Reunited – Chapter 34

We’re on the road for an hour and then a black sheet is thrown over my cage on wheels. This would be the perfect time for me to break down into tears, but I’m replaying those last few minutes with Kazuo in my head.

“What if I told you Jiro was alive?” “You’ll have to hold on till tomorrow night.”

Are they real or did I imagine them? I’m going to have to believe they’re real. Hope is the only thing keeping me alive right now, hope that I’ll live, the baby I’m carrying will live, and that I’ll be reunited with Jiro and my family again.

I lie down in a corner of the cage, reach through the bars and lift the black sheet a centimeter so I can peer out. I’m being wheeled through the streets of a city. The cobblestone roads are crowded with people, horses, and other animals. Sellers hawk food and groceries from modern storefronts. Little kids run and play, a few stopping to throw things at my cart. Kids are cruel.

After fifteen minutes, we stop and I swallow to keep the bile in my stomach. When I look out again, we’re on a bridge over water. I’m definitely at the castle at the center of Tengoku, the capital city. I don’t need a map to tell me this news. I studied the satellite photos and remember the castle with the moat around the perimeter. There’s a long squealing, squeaking noise so loud I have to cover my ears, and then quiet as I’m brought into the castle grounds. The horse stops and someone throws back a corner of the black sheet enough to gain access to the door. He unlocks the cage, blindfolds me, and I’m led from an outdoor space to an indoor space, through hallway after hallway, turn after turn until finally I’m in a small room with only a bed in it. No windows and no other entrances but the door I came through.

The guard leads me to the bed and ties me to it via my already-bound hands.

“It’s evening. We’ll bring you food and then you’ll sleep.” He leaves with no other comment. Someone brings me thin soup with rice, I eat it, and the door is locked. I sleep with the overhead light on.

In the morning, the door opens again and a small, old Japanese woman enters with a guard right next to her.

“You’re awake finally. Good. We’ll get you cleaned up soon, and you’ll be brought out to court to meet your new master and his son. Now…” She sits next to me on the bed and reaches for my abdomen with her hands. I shrink back.

“Don’t move,” she commands, her face malevolent and cold.

I lie still, and she flattens her fingers and pushes at my belly in a few places while thinking and humming.

“Hmmm, the doctor will examine you tomorrow and have your implant removed.” She extracts a long, thin tube from her sleeve, unscrews the cap and pulls out a stick with cotton on the end.

“Open your mouth.”

I figure I have to or the guard will pin me down, so I open and she swabs the inside of my cheek. Returning the stick to the tube, she stands up and gestures to the guard.

“Get her up. We’ll take her to the bathhouse.”

They’re going to run my gene profile, and she doesn’t think I’m pregnant. Maybe I’m not actually pregnant? I don’t have positive proof I am, just Risa’s accusation and my gut feeling. No. I am pregnant. I have to believe it.

In the bathhouse, the old woman and two younger girls hold me in different positions so they can get every possible centimeter of me clean while the guard watches everything. I was getting used to letting all of my friends and family see me naked, but this is too much. While my hands are wet, my ring is wrenched from my finger, and the old woman slips it in her obi. I lunge to get it back but the guard grabs me by my hair and pulls me into the girls’ grasps.

“She has tattoos. Osamu will not be happy about that.” The old woman lashes out and slaps me across the face. “How could you debase your body like that, you stupid girl?”

I don’t say a word and do my best not to cry, as my body is scrubbed, and my hair washed, dried, and twisted into a tight bun that makes my scalp throb. If this guard were not standing over me right now, I’d jump up and fight my way out of this place. I’m pretty sure I could incapacitate these women before they sound the alarm. My karate skills lay dormant inside of me, ready to spring to attention. But I know it’s no use against all these women and a man with a sword. And I’m certainly not going to apologize for the tattoos I love, so I give them the silent treatment.

I’m wrapped in a white cotton robe, and a heavy, silk kimono with a huge obi. After I’m cleaned and dressed, I’m led through hallway after hallway, as fast as my legs can carry me in this outfit. My pace, practically running, doesn’t stop the old woman from yelling at me to hurry or the guard from poking me in the back. I’m surrounded by red and black lush draperies, mirrors rimmed in gold, plush red settees and women dressed in formal kimono at every bend. They don’t make eye contact.

Several minutes of turning corners and walking later, I’m led into what must be a throne room. The old woman points to a small floor cushion off to the right of the throne and commands, “Seiza.”

I lower myself to my knees and look around. No one sits on the large throne in the center of the dais, nor the other smaller seat to its left. Across from me, Tomio Miura waits, come to collect his payment for giving me up. Sachi and Emiko stand next to him with Nobu and Yukio Yamamoto and Risa.

Risa smiles at me, her eyes narrowed, showing me she’s won. She’s dressed in a deep pink kimono with her hair pulled up and makeup done. If I didn’t know how awful she is, I’d think she was pretty.

A man to the right of the dais strikes a large gong and everyone in the room bows except me until the old woman behind me pushes my head to the floor. When I’m told to sit back up, all the chairs on the dais are occupied.

The man in the center must be Daisuke Fujiwara. My upper lip starts to sweat. He is completely decked out in traditional samurai warrior gear from head to toe. He has a massive and scraggly dark beard and small black eyes. Sitting straight-backed so the armor on his chest flattens and fans out, his hands in fists on his knees, he is straight out of feudal Japan, like we’ve stepped into the past. This is a man that rules by fear. No wonder Hideki and Kohaku didn’t want to talk about him.

The man next to him must be his son. He’s in his early thirties or maybe even late twenties, it’s hard to tell on this world where everyone lives a lot longer than we did on Earth. His cropped short hair shoots from his head in patches, but he’s average in all other respects, bland and unassuming. A woman sits seiza at his feet. She’s well-groomed and in a lovely kimono, but her cold eyes are on me. Everyone in this room hates me.

“So this is the girl with imperial blood. This little thing…” Fujiwara leans forward to get a closer look at me, but I keep my face passive and stare straight back. “And she’s hafu! Disgusting! How come nobody told me this?” he roars, and the audience across from me shrinks except for Miura.

Daisuke turns to Miura and Miura huffs. “I gave you her genetic records. You could see for yourself.”

“We tested her ourselves. She has the genetic markers, but hafu?” Fujiwara spits on the ground between him and me. I don’t flinch. I keep Sakai’s passive face on and blink calmly at Fujiwara. Huh, I’m a disgusting half-breed. Maybe this means I’ll be cast aside. “You people brought non-Japanese from your filthy planet. How could you let this happen?”

His son leans forward to study me. My scalp prickles, and I still my body to stop a chill from surfacing. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll breed her line whole again.”

My heart stops. I wish we had never come here.

“You don’t object, Osamu?” Fujiwara asks, and Osamu shakes his head indifferently at me. “Fine. We’ll keep her.”

Keep her. Like a dog or a cat. What will happen to me here if I’m not rescued? Will I be rescued?

“Now, other business,” Fujiwara booms. He seems to have only one volume at which he speaks. “My regent will provide you with payment, and then there’s the other matter of the lady-in-waiting.”

Miura clears his throat and gestures to Risa to step forward. “Yes, we’ve had a volunteer who’s interested.”

Risa steps in front of the dais, no fear on her face, sits seiza and bows to Fujiwara, his son and wife. What’s this?

Osamu’s wife leans forward and studies Risa with a small, warm smile. A lot more warmth than I was given. “She’s adorable. Can you speak our dialect?”

“Yes,” Risa replies, and switches her speech. “I’ve been listening and studying your dialect in every town we’ve come through. With your help, I’m sure I can manage.” She bows again.

Good gods, Risa. What the hell are you doing?

“I’m pleased.” Osamu’s wife sits back. “You’ll make a great addition to my staff.”

Risa’s head swivels to me and her lips twitch up on one side. She’s sticking close to me to watch me suffer, the bitch. Oh, if only I could have a moment alone with her, I’d beat the crap out of her. My chest heaves with anger, but the thought of Risa suffering at my hands makes me smile back. You won’t get the best of me, Risa. I don’t care what gods forsaken situation I’m in, you’ll never win. Never.