Chapter 24

One hand taketh

Kenji stared at his hands resting on his laps. Even from the grave, it seemed that his father would make everything in his power to make his life difficult. What was he supposed to do with this information? He sighed.

"Does Sakurako…?"

Yumiko shook her head.

"I haven't told her. I never really saw the need to, but if you two are to take things any further, you will need to take a decision."

He nodded weakly. In his sleeve, the sweet note the young woman had written him burnt against the skin of his forearm. He clenched his fists. His lips turned into a hard line. The familiar anger sparked in his chest; he wanted nothing more than to let it rekindle and allow it to set emblaze his entire being. Yet it also felt uncomfortable. His knowledge simply wouldn't allow him to be consumed by blind rage. He hadn't forgiven his father actions, but he somewhat understood their context and motivation. Yumiko wrapped one of his fists with her long pale fingers, interruption his internal monologue. He didn't look at her.

"Kenji. You have no obligation to withhold that information from her, nor do you need to tell her everything. There is no right or wrong answer. The choice is entirely yours."

He nodded anew.

Kenji expected to spend the night awake, his mind working this new conundrum. Yet, he fell asleep almost immediately. He was awoken by the light of the morning sun softly filtered by the shoji. He sat up and shivered. The first chill of fall had descended upon the estate. He dressed up quickly and made his way to the mansion. The air was crisp and the dew on the grass sparkled. He had witnessed this bucolic scenery numerous times during the summer yet now, with his heart heavy, he felt mono no aware, the impermanence of life, for the very first time. Had this vernal idyl been just a dream? Something to be enjoyed and then released? Then again, if he kept his knowledge to himself, this could continue as before. There could be talks of the future, of time to be enjoyed together, there could be the ephemeral warmth of hands secretly held and the promise of more… But could he truly cherish and protect Sakurako while withholding such an important information from her? Or was revealing it fulfilling this very oath? Moreover, if she found out by herself, would she blame (or worse, hate) him for not telling the truth? Would he then just be no better than his father, with his lies of omission and half-truths?

"My oh my, Kenji. What's with the long face this morning?"

Kenji looked up, startled. He'd reached the house. Sakurako stood on the steps, grinning at him. He spoke before he could even think.

"My father killed your grandfather," he blurted out.

The young woman cocked her head sideways, an uncertain smile on her lips. His eyes widened with horror at the realisation of what he had just said.

"I… My father… He was…"

His mind raced in a panic, unable to find a way to backtrack. He stared at the woman he had learned to love, his face a mask of despair. His brain screamed, urging him to run away but his legs remained firmly planted on the ground. Sakurako's expression grew soft as she walked down the stairs and closed the distance between them. She took his hands in hers and shook them once, then twice, as if making up her mind.

"I know, Kenji. I know."

She's guided him silently to the orangery. Kenji held on to her hand, fearing that he might not feel the warmth of her skin ever again. He'd cursed himself every step of the way, unable to understand why he'd said such a thing. Her words had barely registered. She knew? Of course she didn't? How could she when he hadn't even known!

Sakurako lead him to a small wrought iron table in the far corner, a spot where they had enjoyed reading on rainy days. He sat and looked down at his hands, shoulders slumped forward. She grabbed the other chair and dragged it across the tiled floor so she could sit in front of him. Their knees almost touched. He leaned back instinctively and looked away.

"Kenji…"

She took his hands in her. He bit his lower lip.

"Kenji, look at me."

Reluctantly, he turned to face her. Her brown eyes had a soft expression that did not at all match the panic in his own.

"I…" He tried to speak but realised he didn't know what to say.

"Let me do the talking. I'm the chatty one, remember?" she smiled and winked. He felt a pang in his stomach; what if he lost of all this? What would he do, then?

"I know about your father. I've known for a long time."

"How?" A whisper.

She shrugged.

"Your father was a famous assassin, Kenji. The Ishin didn't officially claim all of the assassinations, but everyone knew who was killing whom. My family had direct ties to the shogun; making the connection wasn't really difficult."

Kenji nodded.

"I'm sorry. Because of my father… your life..."

She shook her head and squeezed his hands.

"Kenji, had the hitokiri battosai not killed my grandfather, someone else would have. It was war, and he was on the losing side. Plus I didn't really have time to care or think about it, growing up. I mean, my father was all about destroying the Ishin, but by the time I was old enough to understand what he was going on about, he was little more than a blubbering drunk stuck in the past. I had a vague understanding of the famous assassin and what it meant for our current situation, but aside from my father, my entire family was doing its best to restore the family name. I was not brought up with revenge on my mind."

Kenji felt relief wash over him. Yet, he was still anxious.

"How did you figure out that I… That I was my father's son."

Sakurako stared at him for a moment. He held his breath. She burst out laughing, letting go of his hands. Panic stricken, he looked at her, awaiting his fate. She shook her head and gave him a loving look.

"Oh you silly goose. Look at you! It wasn't really hard. I mean, I didn't think much of it when I saw Ai's hair, but when I saw yours, and I saw you execute that perfect batto justu, it just clicked. Somehow, I had managed to find myself in the presence of the relatives of the hitokiri battosai while on the other side of the globe. How crazy is that?"

"Were you angry?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow and cocked her head.

"Why would I have been angry?"

"Because my father ruined your family. Because my family is affluent. Because you grew up destitute. Because you almost had to…" He couldn't say the words. He didn't want to imagine other men touching her, even if it hadn't happen.

She pulled her chair closer. Their knees touched.

"What your father took, your sister gave back to me, many times over. I am happy here. I have things I could never have dreamed of in Japan. Had my grandfather lived, who knows what situation I might have been in. Maybe I wouldn't even have been born! Had he lived, I would never have ended up here in England. Here with you."

She blushed and looked away, unable to sustain his gaze. He had never seen her act that way. Feeling bold, he cupped her cheek with his hand, forcing her to look at him. She smiled shyly. He smiled back. He leaned in and before their lips touched, he whispered.

"Thank you."

NOTES

Sorry about the long delay! I was simply stumped. I'm leaving for Japan soon but I will try to keep this going so I can finish it. I have partial drafts of the other chapters so it should go pretty quickly.