Takeo's Chronicles, page 96
An icy chill swept up Takeo’s spine. He instinctively brushed his arm against his sword, but no warmth flowed into him. It was just a replacement, a standard issue Hanu blade of normal metal. Takeo’s heart sunk.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Takeo said. “Things happen fast on the battlefield. What difference does it make?”
“I’ve also culled through the equipment captured from the Katsu forces, as well as Borota’s body,” Qing went on. “A stash of gashadokuro hammers was found, too, and I noticed how nothing was stained with black blood. In fact, per the reports I’ve heard, the only people and equipment covered in oni blood were you and your sellswords. Isn’t that interesting?”
“The only thing I find interesting here,” Takeo replied, “is your ability to believe absurdities. You’re suggesting that I and my three allies turned on an allied oni in the midst of a battlefield, surrounded by enemies, and survived. I’ll admit that I questioned your trustworthiness from the moment I saw you, but now I find myself questioning your sanity. Are there any other outlandish theories you’d like to share with me? Surely you can’t top that.”
“Maybe,” Qing answered, shrugging. “You wouldn’t believe how odd I think it is that Lord Eun Choi’s clothes were found, bloodied and ripped to shreds. Reports say it was fresh, too. I thought he died of an illness? Why would his tattered clothes be soaked in blood? And why were there bones inside the fort, stripped of flesh?”
I need to leave. I need to get out here. Or maybe I should stay? Who is this girl?
Takeo was rooted in place, despite his better judgment. Words slipped out from his lips. “I’ll bet you see a yuki-onna in every shadow, don’t you?”
“All I see, Takeo Karaoshi,” Qing whispered, “is a man in need of my help fairly soon, and I must warn you of the price. Be sure you do all that you can to serve our Lady Zhenzhen.”
Takeo swallowed. Qing stepped forward, footsteps falling softer than a leave on a pond. She leaned in close.
“Treat her well,” the ninja said, lips so close that her breath tickled his ear. “Deny her anything and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Qing leaned back and then slipped out the door. Takeo waited a few seconds and then heaved a long sigh.
I’m caught in a web of conspiracies and lies, the unwitting dagger thrust back and forth between the powerful in the shadows. No matter the outcome, I’ll be covered in blood, or worse, melted down in spite. I’m certain of it. I need to take control of my destiny and soon. If I don’t come up with my own plan, I’m going to fall prey to another’s.
Takeo exited the room and walked down the spiral staircase into the bowels of the keep. The Hanu seat was a flurry of activity these days, with guards and servants crossing the hallways and carrying supplies about as if their lives depended on it. After Lord Botan’s assault, Lady Zhenzhen ordered the entire palace and surrounding city to have its supplies checked over. She wanted everything searched and counted, sharpened and fortified. It wasn’t just Lord Botan’s close call of course, but also Lord Pircha’s approach along the northern border. Prince Nobu had not been lying when he’d said that the Nguyen family had become a serious threat. Rumor was the Hanu territory was shrinking by the week. As far as anyone was concerned, the Katsu cousins could wait. The real threat was coming to them.
Takeo wasn’t so certain about that, though. As he reached the main hallway at the keep’s bottom floor, he touched his replacement sword and grimaced at the cold, emptiness it gave back. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and then strode on.
As Takeo crossed one of the large, main rooms, he caught a glimpse of Lady Ki passing from one stairway to another. The old lady was dressed as elegantly as always, dowsed in makeup from head to toe. Two guards followed her, attentive and professional. They all paused at the entrance to the next stairwell as her gaze found Takeo.
Although they were too far away for words, Takeo bowed to her nonetheless. As he rose up, she pursed her lips but then gave the slightest of nods. Then she turned and fled up the stairs.
“Sprightly old woman,” Takeo muttered. “Oh, and don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten your promise. No more failures.”
Takeo touched his sword again. I hope.
He continued on, finding his way to his own stairwell and disappearing into the Hanu tunnels of stone. He wound his way up and across, finding one room in particular that was normally reserved for lesser ambassadors of distant daimyo. Even with the door closed, he could hear the quiet cries of a small baby. Takeo knocked lightly.
“Come in, come in,” Gavin replied.
Takeo stepped into the large room, ordained with an equally large bed covered in red sheets. Yeira was tucked under them, seemingly asleep and immune to the cries of her infant child. Her beauty was back in full bloom now that she was eating regularly, and her body was almost back to its normal size already. Across the way was a balcony with curtains drawn open, and the rain from outside fell on the stone to make a soft drum that should have lulled anyone to sleep.
The knight was just on the opposite side of the curtains, as far from Yeira as he could get, rocking his tiny daughter who was wrapped up tightly.
“There now, it’s okay. I have you,” he whispered, rocking her gently.
The little baby wasn’t convinced and cried softly. Her little lungs weren’t large enough yet for a full scream, but she made good use of what she had. Takeo didn’t think he’d ever get over how small she was. Only a hair longer than his forearm, Takeo honestly couldn’t believe she’d survived. Gavin could have held her easily with one arm, but always chose to do it with two, which made him look like less like a father and more like a grown man trying to hide a loaf of bread. Takeo stood in the doorway and waited, looking left and right as if ashamed to witness Gavin’s failed attempts at parenting.
“Please, just go to sleep,” the knight whispered, rubbing his eyes before looking up. “Takeo, get over here.”
The samurai grimaced, knowing what was coming, but did as instructed. He crossed the room and said nothing as Gavin passed over the tiny bundle. Takeo took the little girl awkwardly in his arms and rocked her once, twice, and the infant went silent. Gavin smiled.
“Wow,” the knight said. “That is just amazing. I don’t get it. She just loves you, I swear.”
“She’s a baby,” Takeo replied. “She doesn’t know what love is. No one does.”
Gavin chuckled and placed a hand on the samurai’s shoulder. He leaned in and looked down at the little face with its little eyes closed and little lips parted. A yawn escaped from her, and even Takeo felt his chest tighten. Gavin’s smile grew tenfold.
“You’re wrong, my friend,” he said. “Trust me.”
He rubbed a finger down the side of his daughter’s cheek.
“Damn, she's so hot to the touch,” Gavin said.
Takeo nodded. He could feel the baby's warmth through the cloth. “Have the doctors figured out what's wrong yet?”
Gavin shook his head. “They seem to think it's nothing. Besides the heat, she's perfectly healthy. Miraculously, even. A premature like her should be plagued with illness, yet she's fine beyond the heat.”
“Unwrapping her doesn't help, does it?” Takeo asked.
“She's just a warm baby, I think. It's nothing to be concerned with. Honestly, I'm just happy she's okay.”
Takeo didn't say anything, but he agreed with Gavin. He couldn't explain it, but the baby's warmth felt comforting, familiar even.
“Have you chosen a name yet?” Takeo asked.
Gavin frowned and pulled his finger away. He glanced over his shoulder to Yeira’s sleeping form and shook his head.
“We’re still trying to find one we both like,” the knight whispered.
“You mean one she’ll agree to,” Takeo replied, equally low. “Will she at least hold her?”
Gavin looked away. Takeo pressed.
“Perhaps you two—three, I mean—need some time away. I think it will help.”
“No,” Gavin shot back. “That’s not it. Yeira is just going through a difficult time. It happens sometime, to new mothers. She’ll get over it, and she’ll love her just as much as I do. I know it. I mean, how could she not?”
Takeo checked that the baby was fast asleep and then handed her over to Gavin. The knight eagerly accepted the load and held her close to his chest. He gazed at her, unblinking.
“You should stay here, though,” Takeo said. “Perhaps permanently. There's no place for a baby where I'm going. Perhaps it would best for you and Yeira, especially consider her…condition. This girl deserves the father neither of us had, and you’re the only one who can do that.”
Gavin huffed and shook his head. He didn’t look up, though. He had eyes for no one but her.
“You’d think so,” the knight said. “I’m not going to lie. I've thought about it. You want to know something funny? I actually thought about leaving you before she came, back when we first joined with the Hanu. I figured you didn’t need me anymore, and I considered running off with Yeira to do, well, I don't know what. Yet, now I'm here, and I'm holding her, and something else comes to mind.”
Takeo cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“If I'm to be a good parent,” Gavin continued. “Then I should follow the example of the best parents I know. At first I thought about Emily’s mother—how she just ran off to live a sheltered a life on a farm somewhere. But you know what? Look how that turned out for her? She’s outlived one of her children already, and might outlive a second if Nicholas doesn’t grow a brain. But then I thought of Duncan’s father, old Mr. Macalister. Now that man had foresight. He didn’t have much, but he used everything in his power to get his son in the best situation he could. He fought like hell to get his son a knighthood, and because of that, Duncan not only survived, but thrived. He sacrificed himself, you see? He gave up the last of years to give his son the best chance he could.”
Takeo’s throat thickened. “Gavin, what are you getting at?”
The knight turned his smile on the samurai, happiness twinkling in his eyes.
“Lady Zhenzhen has offered to teach her,” he said. “Give her an education and a place to thrive, in exchange for my services. Isn't that something?”
Takeo went still, his eyes wide.
“I know,” Gavin said, misunderstanding Takeo's expression. “Isn't that amazing? Not only can I help you and her by freeing this world of its wars, but in doing so, I'll give this girl opportunities I never had. Think of the safety she'll experience in this keep, behind these walls? Think of all the benefits and connections. She won't grow up a poor farmer, begging for scraps at the mercy of the seasons. With an education and connections, she might grow up to be a wealthy merchant, or enter a skilled trade, or who knows what else? She'll have options, a chance, something I never did. I can give it all to her. I know you think she needs a father more, but honestly, what good is a father when a hungry warlord comes looking for a new bride? Or a new tyrant takes power and decides to burn a few villages? How selfish would I have to be to leave her nothing but a dirt farm that will go fallow or yield terrible crops? Look at where we are now, in this castle, in this room. She can live a life of protection and privilege, if only I fight with you. No, I’m sorry, Takeo. I’m not going anywhere. I’m coming, and I’ve more reason than you do. The woman I love more than anything else didn’t leave the world; she just entered it.”
Takeo clenched. He wanted to argue back, but the words wouldn’t come. He knew this was his best chance at convincing Gavin to leave, but there was only one problem: Gavin was right.
“Fine, fine,” Takeo said, glancing away. “But I won’t hold you to it. Know that you can leave any time you like, and I’d encourage it. I can do this without you.”
Gavin laughed. “No, you can’t.”
Takeo stayed silent.
“But on that subject, though, did you find out if what the prince said was true?” the knight asked. “Is Borota coming back from the dead?”
The samurai sighed and hung his head. “Yes, it would seem. We have only a year until the truth comes out.”
“Shouldn’t we drop the secrecy, then? Tell them the truth, that Borota betrayed us?”
Takeo shook his head. “There’s a secret war being waged in the Hanu family, and I’m desperately over my head. I hardly know the players, let alone the stakes, and I’m going to end up with my head on pike if I don’t get a grasp on the situation soon. You, Yeira, and that little one there will lose all the privileges you just talked about, too. Knowledge is power, my friend, and right now, Borota’s last words are the greatest weapon I have. He said I was dangerous, that I threatened all they stand to gain. Who are they? The oni? Lady Zhenzhen’s side? Nobu’s side? Lady Ki? Virote, maybe? What do they stand to gain, and why did I threaten it? Also, why did Borota wait until the last moment to betray me? He could have left me to die outside that fort, when we first ran to it, but he charged and saved me. It doesn’t make sense, outside of one explanation.
“Borota wasn’t sent to kill me. He was only supposed to observe. However, after doing so, he made his own decision to end me, and thus his reasons died with him. Whatever secret I hold is secure again, for one year. That’s one year for me to learn what made me so dangerous that I had to be killed, and hopefully rectify the situation.”
“I’m just glad Nicholas came to get me,” Gavin said. “That was a smart idea of his to climb on the roof, even if it was just to look for a possible escape. He saw you, fighting for your life, but also the Hanu army. He rushed down and told everyone, and then saw Borota charge off heading straight for you. We all thought the oni was going to help you. It was sheer luck we arrived when we did. We wouldn’t have made it at all, of course, if you two hadn’t left a trail of dead so thick that the Katsu army avoided it.”
“Luck and skill, in all things,” Takeo replied. “You know, I never did thank you for saving my life.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“But now Lord Botan has my sword.”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Nothing else needed to be said on that topic. There was no silver lining to speak of or shinning hope to point towards. There wasn’t a need to speak the graveness aloud, for such dark foreboding was self-evident. Takeo made a fist, squeezed hard, and then tossed the anger away. Emotions were for the weak.
I already broke one rule. I need not ignore the other. Remain calm.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Takeo said as way of parting.
Gavin made no reply as Takeo left the balcony and made for the door. The knight rocked his daughter gently in the shadow of Juatwa’s warm rains, the soft patter casting a spell over all. Takeo tried to grasp how he'd let the conversation go, let Gavin convince him rather than the other way around, but all he could admit was that children truly did change everything.
Just before the door, something grabbed his wrist roughly. On instinct, his free hand went for his sword while his eyes fell to the offense. He found Yeira had snatched Takeo's arm from beneath the sheets. She was covered in red just up to her cheeks, and her brown eyes burned out at him from the dark.
She pulled on his wrist, drawing him to her. The grip was like iron.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” she whispered. “I want you to know that. I won’t be like the others and just forget what you’ve done. It was my baby, my decision, my life, and you took that from me. I’ll do the same to you. Mark my words.”
She gave Takeo’s wrist a painful squeeze and then released him. He pulled away and stood back up, while Yeira covered herself in blankets. Her hand slipped under the red, and her beauty was hidden. Takeo's throat went dry, and he glanced back at Gavin. The knight was oblivious, rocking his daughter to sleep with tears of joy in his eyes.
Takeo buried the pain and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Chapter 33
True to its reputation, Juatwa was quick to wash away the blood of yesterday’s battles. The moisture and warmth turned the air into a comforting blanket that wrapped about each individual, even as they walked in covered hallways. It was times like these that the poor, the lowly conscript, or otherwise destitute would take to the open air for a cheap shower. Cleanliness wasn’t just for the rich in Juatwa, like it was in other parts of the world. However, when Takeo made his way to keep’s open courtyard, it wasn’t cleanliness he sought but solitude.
He did not to find it.
Nicholas saw him first, or rather the viking’s gargantuan silhouette spotted Takeo as he approached the courtyard. Takeo had been in a hurry, not watching his footsteps, and so exited a stairwell with a heavy foot. Nicholas turned before the samurai could slip away and nodded him over. Takeo, too shackled by manners to ignore it, paced over and stood against the opposite pillar.
“Look at that,” Nicholas said, and pointed out into the courtyard.
Takeo followed and spied two figures in the distance, clouded by rain but discernible nonetheless. One was a hulking mass of purple skin, yellow eyes, and drooling tusks, while the other was a smaller version of the same thing, only up to Nicholas’ waist in height, but didn’t drool. The two were wrestling in the rain, laughing, smiling.
“Krunk seems happy,” Takeo said.
“And so does Emy,” Nicholas agreed. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Watch them. Watch her.”
Takeo eyed the scene carefully. Krunk and Emy were a blur of movement from this distance, each covered in mud as they constantly grappled and fell to the ground, only to break apart and stand back up for another bout. The rain washed the dirt away with a mother’s touch, and they grinned and laughed, yet also breathed heavy. It struck Takeo that the ogre was breathing hard at all, though. He watched Emy attack first, darting like a knife to slam into the ogre, throwing them both to the ground, and he watched Krunk try to pin the rakshasa down, only to struggle, slip, and be pushed back. Takeo clenched his teeth.
