Smoke in the Sun
Page 25

kami did not respond immediately. “If you are water, I am fire. Fire destroys all that it touches. I will not destroy the people I love. Not anymore.”
“That’s the excuse of a weak man. You owe those who love you a great deal more than that. I’m not leaving here until you tell me what we should do—until we come up with a plan, together.” Mariko filled her words with all the conviction she could muster. “Though you’ve never wished to be a leader, it’s time for you to be more. To be better and stronger and wiser than this.”
kami kept silent as he studied her through the iron bars of his cell. “I would never presume to tell you what to do, Mariko. I can only tell you what I want.”
“What do you want, then?”
He crossed his arms, then wiped his chin, the wound from his head oozing a fresh trail of blood down his face. Despite his injuries, his battered features managed to look circumspect. “I want you to get as far away from the city as possible, perhaps meet a nice young man—whom I would find deeply flawed—and build a life apart from this world and its poison.” Though kami spoke in an almost teasing fashion, Mariko recognized the truth hidden beneath the sarcasm.
“That’s unfortunate,” she replied in an equally sarcastic tone. “Since it’s clear I don’t like nice young men, I’m afraid I can’t help you with any of that. What else do you want?”
kami pressed his hands to the earth and pushed himself to standing, each of his motions a struggle, every movement marred by pain. Mariko took to her feet with him, as though she were offering him a shoulder to lean on. A hand to hold. The support she had not been able to give him earlier today.
They stood across from each other—bars of iron and blood and darkness separating them—yet Mariko felt his presence as though he stood beside her, his fingers curled around hers, a cloak falling across her shoulders.
“I want to tell you I love you, without chains around my feet,” kami said. “Without reservations.”
Mariko nodded, unable to speak.
He continued. “I want to hold you as I say it. Beneath an open sky.”
She inhaled carefully, her heart thrumming in her chest. “Why?”
“You look like you need to be held.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
“No.” He smiled as he struggled to keep his body straight, every motion visibly taxing. “Sometimes we just need to be held.” It sounded soft, each word like a caress.
She swallowed, the ache in her chest spreading to her fingertips. “Unfortunately for us both, I can’t help you with that. Anything else?” Mariko reached for one of the bars to steady herself.
“I want to touch you,” kami said softly. Shockingly. The moonlight slipped behind a fleece of clouds, the darkness deepening around them.
“kami, I—”
“I want to run my hands across your skin and listen to you sigh.”
Though she could no longer see past the bars, a fire burst to life in her core. This was not appropriate. Now was not the time for him to say such things, let alone for her to listen. “Stop it.” Mariko gripped the iron tightly. “I can’t think of a worse time and place for you to say something like that to me.”
“We do what we must.” He repeated his earlier words.
The clouds passed, and the white light of the moon streamed through the window once more, as though it had always been watching over them. Merely turned an eye for an instant.
Flustered by the flurry of emotions warring within her, Mariko began gathering her things. “I’ll work tonight to devise a different plan for helping you escape.” She stopped, her mind moving faster than her lips. “How cold does it get down here?”
“Cold enough.”
“Have you ever seen any signs of ice?”
kami shook his head. “You don’t need to—”
“Stop talking unless you have something worthwhile to say.”
He laughed under his breath.
Mariko smiled to herself, then tightened the cord around her waist before collecting her things to leave.
“Mariko.”
Again the way kami said her name rippled down her body—the hot chased by the cold—from the nape of her neck toward her toes. She both hated and loved it all at once, this blending of extremes. “What now?”
“I want one more thing.”
She turned his way. Waited.
The chains behind kami clanged together as he took a single step forward, grimacing the entire time. “Come here.”
Under normal circumstances, Mariko would have rebuffed such orders, especially coming from him. But it did not sound like a directive now. It sounded like a plea. As Mariko drew closer, he took another step toward her, his chains losing the last of their slack. kami moved as far as his bindings would allow, until his hands were balled into raised fists.
The closer he came toward that single stripe of moonlight, Mariko could see more evidence of all they had done to him. Every cut. Every bruise. Every burn.
The ink seared into his skin.
Loyalty.
Her heart pounded at the way kami looked at her, the way he studied her …
As though he might forget the lines of her face.
Mariko took hold of the bars in both hands, gripping them forcefully, her fingers turning bloodless. “What do you want, kami?”
His lips curled upward. “That metal pin.”
Ever the Hero, Ever the Villain
His father used to say that a man could be a leader or a follower.
But never both.
In moments like these, Kenshin understood the comfort of taking orders, rather than of being the one to give them. Leaders needed to know what lay around the next bend, even when moving through uncharted territory. A follower need only concern himself with each of his steps. Each of his breaths. He could move forward, oblivious to the path ahead. Trusting in those left to make the decisions.
If Kenshin was only a follower for the rest of his life, then perhaps he could remain as he was now. Comfortable. Adrift in the waters of a summer sea.
Drunk.
Hattori Kenshin had lost track of time. The feeling was a supremely blissful one. He assumed several hours had passed since the elegant jinrikisha had delivered him to the front of the finest teahouse in Hanami. Several hours since the silk screens had slid closed and his first drink had been poured. Now Kenshin found himself lounging on a lustrous cushion, listening to the distant chiming of music, the occasional splashing of a drink. The titters of feminine laughter.
He let his head fall back and his eyes drift closed for an instant. When he opened them again, his vision swam in a slow circle before it focused, seeking something on which to ground itself. Kenshin gazed about. At his feet were fresh tatami mats, bordered in deep purple brocade. Above him swung lanterns carved with creatures from a mystical sea. Their shadows danced along the walls suggestively, the blue flames within glowing bright. When he took in a deep breath, the sweet scents of jasmine and white musk rose into his head, wiping his thoughts clean with their fresh, heady perfume.
Making him forget.
Everything about this place was designed to make a man forget. To let him believe—even for just an evening—that he was all he’d ever hoped he could be. Everything his father had dreamed. That his life was one of possibility, instead of disappointment.
Slurring through a spate of laughter, Kenshin took hold of a small porcelain cup. A delicate hand to his right poured another measure of warm sake. Without even a glance in the beautiful geiko’s direction, Kenshin knocked back the drink, its warmth blossoming through his chest, lulling him into a stupor.
The sounds of laughter and merriment faded to a dull roar as Kenshin continued to drink. He sank into the roll of cushioned silk to his right, leaning his weight upon it and closing his eyes once more. He enjoyed the sensation of depriving himself of sight. All his other senses became brighter in response. He let the sounds around him grow until they filled his ears with their cacophony, the scents hanging in the night air bringing to mind carefree days in his past. Enticing him to forget.
A cold hand clawed into his chest, wrapping his heart in a vise, ceasing its soothing beat for an instant.
Kenshin could never forget.