Chapter 8 Where Fire Cannot Follow
Chapter eight
Where Fire Cannot Follow
Nyomi
Hiro crossed the kitchen.
Barefoot.
Bare-chested.
All that ink and muscle on display as he moved toward me.
I should have told him to stop.
Should have waved him off and pretended I was okay.
But my skin was still too hot. Flushed. Burning from the inside out. The phantom smoke had crawled into my lungs and stayed there. The ghost of flames still licked behind my eyes every time I blinked.
And I couldn't look away from him.
Couldn't find the words.
Could barely breathe as he closed the distance between us.
Then he was there.
Right in front of me.
He wrapped those big arms around me and pulled me close to him. Soon his chest was warm against my cheek. And the scent of him. . .
He doesn’t smell like sake this time.
The last time I'd been this close to Hiro, alcohol had clung to his skin. In fact, he'd been drowning in it. Sleeping in the kitchen because he couldn't face his own bed.
But this morning he smelled like ocean air and wet stone.
Like salt.
Like brine.
Like the cold depths that never saw sunlight.
And the rocks at the bottom of the sea—worn smooth by currents, heavy with the weight of water that had been pressing down for centuries.
I breathed him in.
And sank into the ocean of him.
The watery surface broke. Cool relief washed over my overheated skin—my flushed cheeks, my burning forehead, the back of my neck where sweat had gathered. The heat loosened its grip.
Then deeper I sank until the water closed over my head and sound changed, going muffled.
Distant.
The crackle of flames faded.
The kitchen noise softened to nothing.
Just the low thrum of pressure against my ears and the steady rhythm of Hiro's heartbeat beneath my cheek.
Deeper still.
The cold seeped through my chest. Into my smoke-scorched lungs. I took a breath and tasted salt instead of ash.
Clean.
Cool peace.
The fire couldn't follow me here.
My pulse slowed.
My trembling stopped.
The throbbing in my burned fingertips dulled to a faraway ache—pain that belonged to a woman on the surface, not the one drifting down here in the dark ocean.
And at the bottom, there was that continued silence.
No pyre.
No bodies.
No flames licking at the edges of my mind.
Just cold. Just quiet. Just the heavy, pressing calm of water that had been holding the earth together since before fire ever learned to burn.
I shivered in relief and whispered, “Thank you, Hiro.”
It hit me then. How similar Kenji and Hiro were. These two brothers.
Yet how they were so different too.
Kenji was fire. Sandalwood and burning ginger. He consumed me. Scorched me. Left me branded with bite marks and heat that never fully disappeared.
Hiro was water. Cool and deep. The kind of calm that came after a storm had already torn through everything.
Both dangerous.
Both capable of killing me without trying.
And yet here I was.
Held by one while branded by the other.
Hiro’s chest was firm against my cheek. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I just stayed there in his arms, burned fingers throbbing against the wet towel.
This is so backwards.
Yesterday, I'd been the one holding Hiro. Right here. This same kitchen. I'd wrapped my arms around this man while he shook apart from his own memories. His own trauma. The weight of everything he carried beneath all that ink and muscle.
I'd hugged him so he would know that he wasn't alone.
And now I was the one breaking today.
And now he was the one catching the pieces.
Hiro ended the silence. "What's wrong, sis?"
I smiled at his saying sis.
“Who do I have to kill?”
I widened my eyes because for any other man that would have just been a silly expression, but for Hiro. . .I had no doubt that he would kill for me.
I let out a long breath. "No worries. I'm fine now."
"Try again."
My throat tightened. "I'm just. . .struggling."
His arms tightened. His chin came to rest on top of my head. "Nyomi. . ."
His chest vibrated against my cheek. "You're loving my brother. You’re healing me. Every day. Your food. Your presence."
Hiro. . .
His voice dropped lower. "Let me heal you."
The words cracked something open in my chest.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were already there—waiting behind my lids like predators.
Fire.
Smoke.
Burning bodies.
Ash floating in the air.
I shivered. "The pyre of traitors on fire. I just can’t get it out of my mind."
Hiro stiffened. “They burnt the rest of the traitors this morning?”
“Yes. You didn’t see it?”
“No. I just woke up and came down here.”
“To get breakfast?”
“I was tracking your scent.”
I opened my eyes. “What?”
“I told you that your scent is locked down in my brain."
“Yeah, but I thought that was a joke.”
“I never joke about things like that.”
O-kay. . .
I should have left his hold then. I was calm now and felt safe, but. . .his arms felt too good.
He spoke, “Where were you going today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would you be over by the cliffs?”
“I wasn’t by the cliffs.”
“But you saw the pyre.”
“No, Hiro. The pyre was burning outside our bedroom window.”
“What?” His whole body went rigid against mine, muscles locking, breath catching. “Outside my brother’s window?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” A long exhale. I felt it move through his chest, felt the way his arms adjusted around me—not releasing, but recalibrating. Processing. "My brother would have never wanted you to see that."
"Well, I did." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "And my head is a bit fucked up, but I’ll be okay."
“It’s alright to not be okay for a while after seeing something like that.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”
“I have and each time I was fucked up from it, I gave that time.”
“How?”
“I just allowed myself to not be okay. You know that. You saw me yesterday.” He sighed again. “What’s going through your head?”
“The vision of it all. The burning bodies. The smell of it. The sound.” I swallowed. “But then there’s the. . .guilt.”
“Yes. . .the guilt.”
“That tears at me even more.”
“And why do you feel guilty?”
“I helped you all by figuring out Sako was the spy.”
“You found a traitor who confessed about other traitors. You didn't light the match."
“I know, but. . .how do you live with guilt? How do you wake up every day knowing what you've done? What you've seen?"
For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, quietly, he spoke, "I still don’t know, sis. All I can say is that. . .I believe. . .you learn to carry it.”
I stilled. “Carry it.”
“The weight never gets lighter, but you get stronger. And eventually, you stop trying to carry it alone."
I pulled back just enough to look at his face.
His expression was open in a way I'd never seen—not the sharpness of the predator, not the playful smirk. This was Hiro unmasked, and he looked so damned sad.
"We need you, Nyomi." His hands came up to frame my face, and his thumbs brushed away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "All of us need you. Kenji, me, the Claws, the Fangs—we need you. Your warmth. Your love and honesty. Your ability to see people when everyone else looks right through them."
“What about the Roar?”
“What?”
“You left him out.” I tried to make light of this moment. “Surely Reo needs me too.”
To my surprise, worry hit his face. “Well. . .let’s hope Reo is. . .still with us.”
“What does that mean?”
“If the pyre was moved, then Reo did it, and that means he did that for a reason that only he understands, and no matter how he will explain it to my brother. . .”
“What?”
“Let’s just say that Reo will need to deal with whatever comes to him today.”
I left Hiro’s arms. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
“I don’t. This is new territory. Reo doesn’t usually go against a direct order from my brother. I was there last night when Kenji told Reo where to put the pyre and that he didn’t want you to see it.”
My bottom lip quivered.
“And this is also new territory because . . .Kenji has never had a woman around us that he’s cared about so. . .I don’t know what my brother will do to Reo.”
“Oh no. I don’t want anything to happen to Reo just because I got upset.” I began to walk around him.
Hiro stopped me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make sure Reo is fine.”
“That would just make it worse.”
“How?”
“First, my brother would get jealous that you’re checking on his Roar. And that would only cause Reo more pain than he’s probably already dealing with. Second, the act of your going to make sure Reo is okay, would suggest to everyone that you think Reo is weak.”
I held out my hands. “Both things are ridiculous.”
“Yet, this is our way. Are you going to accept it or try to challenge our ways?”
“I’m. . .”
He leaned his head to the side.
“But. . .”
“What?”
“How do I find out if Reo is okay without triggering any jealousy or further harm?”
“That’s where I step in.” Hiro pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put the device to his ear.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He held up a finger.
The phone rang and then the person picked up.
“Yes. . .Hiro. . .” Reo's voice came through on speaker, and it was strained. Tight. The kind of voice that came out when every breath cost you.
Oh shit.
Hiro spoke, "I'm up. What do you have for me?"
"The Tiger still wants to get her hair braided and do the movies for the island." Reo paused. A beat too long. Like he was catching his breath between sentences. "You and the Claws will keep her safe. . .while Kenji and I deal with the shipments."
"What time will she be getting her hair braided?"
"Ask her.”
Hiro quirked his brows. “What?”
“I know you're with her right now."
"Hmmm." Hiro smiled at me. "Did I miss anything this morning?"
"You missed a lot, but I'm sure the Claws will catch you up."
"You're too busy?"
"At the moment, I have something important."
"Ah. Then I'll talk to you later." Hiro hung up and looked at me.
I let out a long breath. "Good. He sounds. . .okay."
"No. He doesn’t. He's in a lot of pain. Probably bruised ribs."