Chapter 23 #2
The last thing I wanted was to relive my capture, my time aboard Kichi’s ship, and my eventual sale at auction, but Haru was asking, and refusing to answer would damage this fragile safety he offered.
And I wanted to tell someone—to tell him—how much I’d endured, how much I’d survived.
A part of me, deep within, needed someone to know.
“There was an attack,” I said, my voice shaky. “On Tooi. Wakō came in the night. There were so many of them. They were everywhere. They burned the village and killed . . .” I swallowed hard. “They killed almost everyone.”
Haru and Esumi exchanged a glance, and something passed between them, a shared knowledge of something I didn’t understand.
“Yoshi and I were separated,” I continued.
“I was bound and put on a ship with others taken to be slaves.” The words came easier now, a story I had told myself a thousand times in the dark.
“They sailed us to an island, a holding place. We were kept there while they . . . while they decided what to do with us, while they decided who to sell where.”
“How long were you on the island?” Haru asked.
“Weeks. Maybe a month. I lost track of the days, but it couldn’t have been much longer than that.”
“What happened on the island?” Haru leaned forward, his attention now sharp. “What did you see? Who was in charge?”
The questions came so fast—so specific—like an interrogation disguised as concern.
Warning bells rang in my mind. Why did he want to know these details? What would he do with the information?
For reasons I may never know, my mind drifted to the coin, my new symbol of service.
My role was to gather information, not give it.
Should I share what I saw? What I heard?
All I learned? This was the Prince, after all, a member of the Imperial household, the same household I now served.
Still, something in me hesitated, and I struggled to form the right words.
“I . . . there was a man. Kichi. He was the captain of a ship . . . The Emperor’s Worm they called it. I don’t know who ran things on the island.” I spoke carefully now. “Kichi sorted the captives, decided who would go where, who was valuable enough for what they called special treatment.”
“Special treatment,” Esumi repeated. “Like you?”
I nodded slowly. “There were others. Beautiful ones. Young ones. Some of them were so young, Haru . . . Prince Haru . . . gods, forgive me.”
Haru’s hand found my cheek again. His thumb wiped away a tear. “Kaneko, it is only us here now. Besides, I never cared for courtly etiquette anyway. Just breathe and continue your tale.”
I blinked, unable to process the shattering of tradition, the breaches of etiquette and protocol and so many other revered forms that had become virtual religions of their own.
And yet, a part of me remembered the prince I’d met a year before.
He was the same man, bearing the same indifference to formality and structure, the same royal whose kindness lifted both Yoshi and me when our hearts most needed it.
I knew this man. I could trust him. No matter what my head thought, my heart told me it was so.
I nodded, gulped, then continued. “We were kept separate and fed better. I guess we were prepared for . . . for this.” I gestured to the room and then to myself.
“For pleasure houses. The last thing they wanted was for expensive products to be damaged or made less valuable. I guess, in that way, I was lucky.” My words stumbled. “I—the island was—”
“Yes?” Haru prompted. “The island was . . . ?”
“The island was terrible,” I croaked out. “I don’t remember much. I tried not to . . .” I looked at Haru. “Forgive me. It is . . . It was . . . Gods, it was so awful.”
Something shifted in Haru’s expression. Understanding wrapped in sympathy. “Of course. You have endured enough without me demanding details.”
Though he pressed on. “What of Yoshi?” Haru asked, his tone gentler now. “Were you separated during the attack? Do you know what happened to him?”
And that question broke me. All the control I had been struggling to regain shattered. The tears came again, harder this time, and my body racked with sobs I could not contain.
Haru held me again, this time closer, tighter, with all the strength his arms could muster. At one point, I felt Esumi join the embrace, his cheek resting on my back as his arms tried to encircle us both.
“I don’t know,” I choked out, my words muffled against Haru’s chest. “I don’t know if he’s alive.
I don’t know where he is. It’s been a year—more than a year—and I have nothing.
No word. No sign. He could be . . . Oh, gods, Haru, he could be dead .
. . or he could be suffering worse than I am. He could be—”
I couldn’t finish, couldn’t breathe past the grief that had been building for months, the grief that now rushed out of me like a swollen river bursting from its banks. I buried my face in the Prince’s chest and let grief flow freely.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I am so sorry, Kaneko.”
“I should have protected him,” I said through the tears. “I’m older and stronger and a better fighter. I should have kept him safe, should’ve died before letting them take him, but I couldn’t—I wasn’t strong enough—I wasn’t enough, Haru.”
“Stop.” Haru’s voice was firm, once more the command of a prince. “You were victims, both of you. You are not to blame for what was done to you or to him.”
“But he’s out there somewhere. Alone. And I’m here learning to . . . I can’t . . . I just can’t—”
This time, neither spoke. They didn’t try to stop my tears or soothe my pain. They simply held me together while I broke apart, offering safety and warmth.
Two sources of warmth.
Two anchors in the storm that was my life.
When I finally exhausted myself, when the tears slowed and my breathing steadied, I felt hollow and wrung out, yet somehow . . . lighter.
“I would purchase your freedom if I could,” Haru said. “But royalty cannot act so blatantly, so publicly. Not even the willful son with a reputation for rebellion.” He winced, then added, “Perhaps rebellion wasn’t the best choice there, but you understand my meaning.”
“You think?” Esumi grinned, chuckling. “Say the word ‘rebel’ anywhere near the palace and a hundred Samurai draw their blades. We’ll be short one prince if you keep with that talk.”
I looked between them, between the Prince and his lover, and envied their easy banter, the comfort with which they slid in and out of each other’s minds. They were a beautiful pair, and it brought me some measure of joy to see their happiness.
“In any case.” Haru rolled his eyes, but his lips were curled upward.
“There are already too many questions following tonight’s auction.
” He paused. “Eyes are always watching. Expectations and political implications litter this city like cobbles of the streets, but I have done what I can. I purchased all of your nights for the next few weeks, told the mistress I was quite taken with you and wished exclusive access.”
I looked up at him, hardly daring to believe his words.
“I am to travel south soon,” Haru continued.
“To Temple Suwa for training. This trip was arranged for some time ago—part of my education, they say. Though in truth, I suspect it is also part of my mother’s and the Grand Minister’s design to keep me out of trouble here in the capital.
” He smiled as Esumi chuckled again. “Regardless, I leave in a few weeks. Before then, I hope to find a way to extract you from this place without drawing too much attention.”
“Temple Suwa,” I repeated. The name meant nothing to me.
“It is a monastery in a valley to the south, as beautiful as it is remote,” Esumi explained. “Where nobles send their sons to learn discipline and martial skills.”
“And to get them out of their homes,” Haru chided.
Esumi shrugged. “That, too.”
“I had hoped,” Haru said, “to find some pretext, perhaps claiming I wish to purchase you as a personal attendant for my journey. The mistress might accept that if the price is right and the story is convincing enough.” He met my eyes. “I cannot promise success, but I will try.”
“Why?” The question escaped before I could stop it. “Why would you do this for me?”
“You must ask that? After . . .” Haru smiled sadly.
“Because I told you once not to wait for permission to love, and then the world stole your chance before you could act on that advice. I cannot undo what was done to you, but perhaps I can give you another chance, another opportunity to find what you lost.”
“Thank you,” I said, because I did not know what else to say.
“For tonight,” Haru said, “you need only rest. We will remain here until morning to maintain the illusion, but nothing will happen. You are safe with us, Kaneko. Always.”
Esumi rose, moved to the door, and locked it, then began extinguishing some of the lanterns, dimming the room to something more comfortable for sleep. Haru arranged the cushions on the bed.
“Come,” Esumi said gently. “Lie with us. Not for . . . not for what you were sold for, but to feel the warmth of those who care for you, who will protect you. You need not be alone this night.”
That offer broke something inside me, some last piece of armor I hadn’t realized I’d been holding on to.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and Esumi helped me stand and guided me to the center of the bed.
I lay down hesitantly, still wearing the sheer kimono, still uncertain despite their assurances.
Haru moved closer, positioning himself so I could rest against him, then he guided my head onto his chest. His arm came around me, solid and safe.
“Is this all right?” he asked quietly.
A prince seeking permission? Where had reality gone?
“Yes,” I whispered, afraid words any louder might shatter the illusion.
I felt Esumi lay on my other side. I was cradled between them, between the Prince and his warrior lover who only wanted me to feel safe in their embrace.
“Sleep,” Haru murmured. “None will touch you. I swear it.”
I felt the steady rise and fall of Haru’s breathing, felt Esumi’s body firm against my back. They asked nothing of me but to rest, offered protection without price, treated me like a person rather than property. For the first time since being stolen from Tooi, I felt safe.
My eyes grew heavy. My body, exhausted from terror and tears, began to surrender.
In Haru’s arms, with Esumi at my back, I finally let go.