Takeo's Chronicles, page 122
“My lady,” he said before her temper could flare. “If I may ask, why are you not out celebrating the victory with your son?”
He released her wrist. She jerked her hand back and stared at him. That had been a bold move on his part, and he hoped the innocence in his voice would be enough for her to let it go.
“Well, if you must ask,” Zhenzhen replied, “I think it’s important for Nobu to be seen by the people as victorious on his own. Were I to appear at his side for every celebration, people might think his victories were thanks to me. Also, I think it’s only fair that while he receives his reward, you should receive yours, too.”
And at the same time, this keeps me from appearing at Nobu’s side and thus taking any credit for the victory.
A grin slipped across Lady Zhenzhen’s red lips, and she reached for him again, slower this time. He caught her hand again, but this time by linking his fingers into hers and squeezing tight. She tightened her lips, but the move appeared affectionate, and she let their hands drop to his stomach.
“My lady,” Takeo went on, “if I may be so bold—”
“I think you’re being quite bold enough,” she cut in. “Your lady has needs. Surely a warrior of your stamina doesn’t tire so quickly.”
“Nobu, and the oni,” Takeo said. “I must know your thoughts.”
Lady Zhenzhen glared, but seemed more annoyed than anything else. After the army had returned from the battlefield, victorious and with Lord Pircha’s head on a stick, it had taken only one briefing by Qing to sour the shogun’s mood. Zhenzhen wasn’t upset that Takeo knew, but that he’d shared the knowledge with his sellsword friend.
“What is there to tell?” she said. “It’s a deal that was made without my knowledge.”
She pulled her hand from Takeo’s and started to trace the scars on his chest again, down his hardened stomach, rolling her fingers into the grooves between gnarled flesh and chiseled muscle. Occasionally, she pressed down with her nails in a playful manner, just to make him wince.
“But you must have an opinion. He is your son. Is the deal forever sealed? Could it be broken?”
Zhenzhen sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Of course it can be broken,” she mumbled. “The oni can retract their offer at any time. Nobu could die before the ceremony is done. It’s a fragile alliance, Takeo, one you need not worry yourself with. You just keep winning battles, and I’ll keep your nights warm and your sword well used.”
She reached for him again, and he didn’t stop her this time. Her determination was clear. He could only hope to distract her.
“I can’t help but think that, as a mother, part of you wants to end this,” Takeo said.
Zhenzhen half snarled, half scoffed, as she jerked to a sitting position. The sheets fell away, revealing her womanly curves and glaring eyes to the world. Despite all that had happened between them, Takeo found it difficult to meet her gaze.
“And what would you know about being a mother?” she snapped. “And exactly what part of me would want to end this? The part that wants to see my Nobu as the world’s master? Or the part that wants to see him immortal? Hm?”
“But he’ll be an oni.”
“And what’s so bad about that? Not that I have to justify myself to the likes of you, but I fail to see what makes being an oni so terrible. Have you not seen them, Takeo? Have you not seen their power, their strength, their wisdom? No reward comes without sacrifice, and my Nobu will be the pinnacle of existence. He’ll command not just this world, this life, but also the next, and everyone will know him, and everyone will remember him. In what reality could I possibly want to stop that?”
“I think you’re letting power cloud your judgment. Haven’t you seen how this bothers Nobu? I watched him weep in their presence and tremble with fear. The boy doesn’t want this. Don’t you care about him?”
Lady Zhenzhen’s hand flew, and the back of her palm slapped across his cheek. A feeble blow, by his account, but it struck hard enough to turn his cheek and sting his skin.
“My son,” the shogun whispered, “is all I care about. And you will watch those insolent tones in my presence, ronin.”
Takeo was still, his eyes downcast, cheek tingling, and heart contracting. It wasn’t the blow that hurt the most, but the reminder.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied.
She smiled. “That’s better. Now then, let’s put all that nonsense behind us. All is forgiven. Though, now that I think of it, perhaps you could work on another apology. Something involving your mouth, but without words, hm?”
She giggled. Takeo swallowed.
“If that is your command,” he said, “but I must see Lord Virote soon, and I think I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
Lady Zhenzhen scowled and rolled her eyes. She made a play of thinking it over, which by now Takeo understood was just a form of teasing.
“Well, I can’t see what that old man has over me, but I suppose you may go,” she said, waving a hand. “However, don’t think you’ve gotten out of this so easily. I expect to receive my apology when you return.”
“That may be some time, my lady,” he said.
She reached out and twirled a hand into his short hair, then jerked him forward to kiss him roughly. As she pulled away, she bit down and pulled on his lower lip.
“I can wait,” she whispered after releasing him.
Takeo dressed as quickly as he could without appearing eager, all the while feeling the shogun’s eyes on his naked form, and then retreated.
There were no guards outside Zhenzhen’s chambers. She sent them away whenever Takeo came around, but only just out of earshot, and they knew better than to leave out of sight. As Takeo walked the hallway to the stairs, the two guards came walking towards him to take up their posts outside Zhenzhen’s door. Takeo didn’t look at either of them as they approached, his mind too absorbed in the fact that he’d never known a victory that tasted so bitter.
“My lord,” one of the guards said as they passed.
“Lord,” the other said.
The two guards nodded with as low a bow as they could do at a walking pace, and Takeo almost missed it. The address snapped him awake, stopping him in his tracks. They stopped, too, and he examined them. The two samurai appeared somewhat similar in age to himself.
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?” he asked. “You two weren’t at the battle, were you?”
“No, my lord,” one said, “but I wish I was.”
“We heard about your clever trap,” the other said. “Faking your own death to turn the rakshasa’s greed against itself. You’re a legend, my lord.”
“Don’t call me—”
Takeo stopped himself and sighed. He kept saying that, yet no one listened. Why bother?
“Yes, well, I didn’t do it alone. I wasn’t even there for the battle. It was the soldiers that won that fight. Best remember that.”
He hoped to deflect their attention. Instead, they beamed.
“My lord, if I may say something,” one said, then whispered, “we’re with you.”
“To the bitter end,” the other added.
They bowed low. Takeo was dumbstruck.
“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say before leaving.
He didn’t bother to bow in return, yet the guards didn’t seem offended.
There is something different about this place, he thought as he walked.
Takeo had won battles before, many, but never had he received the respect he deserved. Under the Katsus, he’d languished under his brother’s shadow, and all his achievements had been measured against Okamoto’s, only to be found lacking. With Emily, her followers had seen him only as a former enemy not to be trusted. Under the Nguyens, their prejudice was too great to see beyond his ronin title. The Hanus, however? They were clearly different, and Takeo could only blame the oni. In comparison to those creatures, a lowly ronin must seem a blessing to fight alongside. Yet that wasn’t enough of a reason to call him a lord. Surely everyone knew he was no daimyo. He had no lands or sworn samurai at his command. He had no royal blood. Yet some persisted, and it made no sense. Couldn’t they see how he struggled to earn any measure of respect among the true lords of this realm? Them calling him a lord made him look a pretender, or rather an imposter, which ruined his chances at earning any favor.
Oh, who am I kidding? What chances? Those lords and ladies will always hate me, no matter what the common soldier or samurai calls me.
He descended the stairs but only made it down a single flight before the presence of Lady Ki, hiding in the shadows of a hallway, interrupted his thoughts. He paused, not because he had anything to say to her, but because he knew she wanted to speak to him. Lady Ki hesitated, pursing those pouting lips of hers and scrunching up her powdered cheeks, seemingly unaware that doing so doubled the lines on her age-wrinkled face and ruined the entire purpose of wearing so much makeup. Takeo tried not to judge, but he considered heavy makeup about as useful as fancy clothing or jewelry, in that it was nothing but a show of insecurity. Perhaps well-hidden insecurity in Lady Ki’s case as she played the tough mentor, but the cracks were beginning to show.
The Lady Ki wasn’t so intimidating anymore.
“I really must be going,” Takeo said to her. “Speak your piece.”
“Why?” she whispered, begging. “Why would you side with them? How could you?”
Takeo cocked an eyebrow. “You sound surprised. Shouldn’t it be the opposite? I expected you to huff and say something along the lines of me being among my kin now.”
“Oh, shut it.” Lady Ki stepped away from the wall and approached, stopping a pace away. “Don’t think you’re the first one to hear my plea, and you certainly won’t be the last. But now that you know, I can’t help but feel like you should have been different. Don’t you see how badly this is going to end, especially for Nobu? Everyone around here is such a rigid thinker, obeying orders without question, stuck in their little boxes of security. Such a blessing for so long, but now it’s a curse. This is one order that should not be followed, can’t you see that? And you were my one hope for breaking that mold. You, ronin, should never had said yes to their deal.”
“You’re convinced this will end badly?” Takeo asked.
He agreed with her, secretly, but didn’t want to say as much. He had no way of knowing if Qing was around. Still, as he hoped, Lady Ki didn’t much care. She pressed on.
“Of course it will,” she snapped. “Where do I start? Lady Zhenzhen foolishly thinks that after Nobu changes form, the lords and ladies will stick to his side. Stupid wench! They will revolt. My husband found that out when he told Lord Yoshida, his most trusted general, and the man retired. Zhenzhen could only get Yoshida to come back on the promise of marriage, if only he would win her the throne. He fell for her promise, too, the idiot. I’ll bet she’s offered half the land her hand in marriage, if only they’ll die in service to her.
“But back to the matter at hand, can’t she see what will happen to Nobu? Immortality is not a blessing when one is forced to live out their days as a monster. Nobu isn’t even old enough to be comfortable in his own skin, let alone skin that is red and covered in warts. He’ll be hated, and it will break him, and he’ll live so long only to watch all those he knows die around him. He’ll never father children, or even marry. I’ll never see him live a normal life. My poor boy, I can’t bear it! How could you let this happen?”
“My lady, I must ask,” Takeo replied, calm as ever. “What exactly did you expect me to do? Kill your daughter-in-law?”
Lady Ki’s jaw snapped shut. Her eyes said it all.
Takeo sighed.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” he said. “The fact that all of you royalty think I’m just a mindless killer, or that you foolishly believe you can control someone who is.”
“If my daughter-in-law gets her way, then one day my grandson is going to be more powerful than you can possibly imagine,” Lady Ki said. “When he realizes that, he’s going to start looking for all the people who put him in this miserable position. I hope you’re alive for that. I really hope you are.”
“Well, it’s entirely possible. I am a survivor, after all. I don’t know why you’re wasting time talking to me when you could just send another assassin after Zhenzhen. You were so close the first time.”
Lady Ki snarled and shook her head.
“And once again, I’m the scapegoat,” she said. “I didn’t send that assassin, you fool. I couldn’t. Lord Nobu and Lord Oiu Nguyen aren’t the only prisoners under our lady’s thumb, and you’re an idiot if you think you’re any different. Mark my words, Takeo, you chose the wrong side.”
And with that, Lady Ki marched off down the hall. Takeo watched her go, only so long as he could be sure she wouldn’t turn around and start into him again. He also stayed, though, because he had unsaid words hanging on his lips.
I agree.
He couldn’t share any of his notions out loud. That would be far too dangerous at this point. He didn’t know what gave Lady Ki such confidence, but Takeo knew better than to follow her lead. Contrary to Lady Ki’s assumption, Takeo understood that he wasn’t a free man, perhaps better than most, as only those who have been betrayed truly know the trust they place in others. He wanted to tell Lady Ki that she was right about Nobu, but he wouldn’t dare unless they were alone in a barren field with no wind and he could whisper in her ear. Otherwise, the risk was too great.
Lord Nobu should not become an oni, and those creatures should never lead humanity. In fact, as far as Takeo was concerned, the oni race shouldn’t exist at all.
Our kind have been ground under the heel of such evil once before, and I will not let that happen again.
He descended the stairs once again until he found a particular hallway leading to a quiet portion of the Hanu keep. The door he was looking for wasn’t any more or less ornate than most, which was peculiar in Takeo’s opinion, considering whom he was looking for. Though, perhaps, that’s how Virote wanted things. Maybe, like Takeo, Lord Virote found refuge in hiding among simple surroundings. Perhaps the room was just for show, and the lord had a grand estate somewhere. Takeo suspected the latter.
Either way, he found the room and rapped the door with his knuckles.
“Ah, that must be him now,” Virote’s muffled voice came from the other side. “Be a dear and open the door. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
The door opened, revealing the lord sitting cross-legged on the floor before a low table in the center of the modest room. From around the door peeked Mako, her light brown hair cascading down as her unassuming eyes took him in. The edge of the door hid her mouth, but he could tell she was beaming at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.
Chapter 19
“Takeo,” Mako said with a gasp.
She popped around the door and threw her arms around him.
He was shocked, at first, as they’d never been much of the hugging type, but he hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around her in return. Mako seemed to understand that she was breaking the mold and pulled away, blushing and dropping her arms to her sides.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. I heard what happened to you, that you almost died, and didn’t know what to do. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he replied. “I should have come to see you first, but our shogun demanded I go to her immediately.”
“No, no, it’s fine, really. I’m just so glad you’re alright. Even though I knew you weren’t dead, I was just thinking about the possibilities, how I couldn’t bear it if I’d lost you so soon after finding you again.”
She was standing in the doorway now, rubbing her arms and pulling her shoulders together in that vain attempt to make herself smaller. It was a peculiar sight to see, for a woman so tall, but Takeo had never thought much of it. He’d known Mako as a child, or at least, when he’d thought himself a child, and she’d always been this way. It was almost comforting to see that some things never changed.
Takeo reached out and touched her arm, lightly.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Mako,” he said. “You’re in good hands now.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lord Virote called out from inside the room.
Mako gasped and stepped aside. Virote peered through a pair of spectacles at a number of different letters arrayed across the table before him. The lord was too enraptured by his work to look Takeo’s way, but that didn’t stop the ronin from bowing as deeply as he could.
“Lord Virote, thank you so much for taking Mako in,” he said. “I didn’t know what happened to her or if she made it back to the keep, but thank you for finding her a place.”
In truth, Takeo was only half thankful. Although he was indeed glad that Mako hadn’t been sent away, he’d been less enthusiastic that Lord Virote had taken her as a servant. Not only was it technically beneath Mako’s status—she’d once been the wife of a high ranking samurai and was also the daughter of a low-ranking landlord, albeit a dead one—but also Takeo suspected this was just another scheme to keep pressure on him. Lord Virote was surely sharp enough to realize the girl’s importance to Takeo, and thus keeping her close gave the old man another method of control over the legendary ronin.
Takeo was determined to take her away as soon as possible, but not just yet. He had one more task to complete. Until then, he had to appear thankful.
For her safety.
“As I said,” Lord Virote replied, still looking over his stacks of letters. “You should thank me later. I’ll have you know that old men require a fair amount of personal care, the likes of which would make a man of your stature balk. Of course, that being said, Mako has been a wonderful partner here in the short time I’ve had her. My last servant was becoming a bit too personal and thought herself quite the conversationalist. Mako, however, is far more reserved and lets an old man concentrate on his work. She would make a fine wife.”
