Chapter 8 Where Fire Cannot Follow #2
I stared at him. "You heard bruised ribs from those few sentences?"
"His breathing was shallow. Controlled. He was rationing air."
"That wouldn’t be anything else?"
"No." Hiro shook his head. "I know Reo. We've bled together. Trained together. Fought side by side more times than I can count. When a man takes a hit to the ribs, his voice changes. It sits higher in the chest because he can't pull from the diaphragm without pain."
I swallowed.
"Also, Reo would have wanted to stay on the phone longer."
"Why?"
"Because we're in the kitchen." Hiro's eyes held mine. "He knows I don't cook. He knows you do. If he weren’t hurt, he would have asked what we were making. He would have hinted for a plate."
My stomach dropped.
"But he needed to get off the call. Which means he's probably with the island's doctor right now."
“So, he’s badly hurt?”
“Yes.”
"And Kenji did that to him?"
"Of course."
The words landed like a slap. Heat crawled up my neck. "That's not okay."
"It's our way."
"I get it but. . ." The words flew out before I could stop them. "Reo didn't deserve to get his ribs bruised just because I saw a fire that traumatized me."
Hiro didn't flinch. "Reo disobeyed a direct order from the Dragon. He knew the consequences."
"Consequences? He's supposed to be Kenji's right hand. His Roar. You don't beat the shit out of the people who are loyal to you."
"You do when they go against your word." Hiro's voice stayed calm. "Reo moved that pyre on purpose. He wanted you to see it."
I froze. "What? Why?"
"I don't know why. But Reo doesn't make mistakes. Everything he does is calculated. He put that fire outside my brother's window knowing you might see it. And for whatever reason. . .Reo thinks your seeing it will benefit you."
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to make sense to us. It made sense to Reo." Hiro ran his fingers through his messy hair. "And now he's paying the price for it."
“I like Reo.”
“We all do.”
I shook my head. "I can't just accept his being in pain."
"You have to."
"Why?"
"Because this is who we are, Nyomi. This is the family you're joining. You can't come in and try to change everything overnight. These traditions, these rules—they've kept us alive for generations."
"They're barbaric."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "But they work."
I moved my gaze away from him, and balled up my hands, doing my best to calm myself.
Hiro's voice softened. "Listen to me."
I pursed my lips.
"Your presence is already changing things."
That made me look at him.
"I see it in my brother." Hiro's eyes held a warmth I hadn't seen before. "Kenji is softer with you around. Not weaker. Softer. There's a difference. He's starting to consider things he never considered before. He's starting to feel things he buried a long time ago."
My throat tightened.
"You don't have to fight our ways, Nyomi. Just keep being you. Keep loving him. Keep feeding us." A small smile tugged at his lips. "Keep calling me brother and hugging me."
I let out a shaky breath.
"Change will come. It's already coming. But it has to happen slowly. Organically. If you try to force it, you'll break everything, including my brother."
I stared at him for a long moment.
This man, who had held a knife to my throat while sleeping.
This man, who had just held me while I fell apart.
This man, who was telling me truths I didn't want to hear, but needed to.
"I hate this," I whispered.
"I know."
"Reo is hurt because of me."
"Reo is hurt because of Reo. He made a choice. He accepted the consequence." Hiro stepped closer. "That's what loyalty looks like in our world. It's not pretty. Sometimes loyalty is very fucking bloody, but it's real."
"I still don't like it."
"You don't have to like it." His voice was gentle now. "You just have to understand it. Do you?"
“Yes.”
His eyes held mine. "Don't give my brother shit over what he did to Reo."
The ocean receded. Just like that—the warmth, the brotherly softness, the man who'd just held me while I fell apart—all of it pulled back like a tide before a tsunami.
What remained was something older.
Colder.
The thing that lived beneath the water.
Hiro's eyes didn't change. His posture didn't shift. But the air between us went thin and sharp, and I understood with sudden, perfect clarity that this man had killed people.
Many people.
And he would do it again without hesitation if his brother required it.
Even more. . . if I bothered Kenji over Reo, Hiro would be knocking at my door. And it wouldn't be Mr. Nice Guy with the cooling ocean breeze hugs.
“I’ve got to just. . .swallow it, Hiro?”
“Yes.”
My grandmother's voice echoed in my head: "Baby, you can't change a man by fighting him. You change him by feeding him, loving him, and being so damn yourself that he forgets what he was fighting with you about in the first place."
I had so much I wanted to counter with Hiro, but instead. . .I let the words burn away in my throat. “Fine.”
Hiro looked at me for a moment longer before reaching out and lightly brushing my arm with his fingertips. It was such a gentle, almost brotherly gesture that it momentarily stole my breath. “Thank you, sis.”
I frowned. “I’m learning.”
“You are.”
“A lot of this is against my will, against my morals and ideals but. . .I’m learning.”
“And that’s perfect.”
“I feel like I should do something.”
Hiro scanned the kitchen and then grinned. “It looks like you’re doing a lot.”
I smirked. “But is that enough?”
“It’s always enough, because in the end. . .you are enough, Nyomi. Whether you cooked for us or not.”
Hiro. . .
My heart ached. “Thank you for helping me today.”
"Kenji needs you. I need you. The Claws, Fangs, and yes even the Roar needs you.” Hiro pulled me back into that ocean breeze hold.
My breath caught.
“Which means it's okay for you to need us too."
I closed my eyes.
"You're not alone in this. Whatever horrors live in your head. . .they're our horrors now too. We share them."
“Oh, Hiro.” Calm spread through my chest. “I needed this.”
“Good.” He shifted a little. “But more important, sis. What are you cooking? It smells so good in here.”
"I’m surprised you think it smells good because I ruined the oxtail."
A surprised laugh rumbled through his chest, and then he let me go. "Then we'll make more."
“Fact. We’ll just make more.”
He released me and rolled those massive shoulders like he was settling back into his body.
Then, Hiro actually looked at the kitchen—not just scanning. His gaze moved across the prep stations where ingredients still sat in neat little bowls. The pastry station with its miniature tarts. The sample plates arranged for tasting. The sauces and doughs.
"Wait." His brow furrowed. "What is all this?"
"We've been testing dishes all morning. Small batches of everything for the cocktail party."
“For the Claws?”
I winked at him. “Is there any other cocktail party I’m supposed to be doing?”
“Better not be.” His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "These are samples?"
“Yes.”
Hiro was already heading for the food.
“Oh, wait a minute. No. Hiro, stop!”