by Carrie Asai
I wrapped the blanket around me more tightly and sat down at the table. “Damn.”
“We should also consider moving,” said Hiro, sitting down across from me. “Too many people know where I live. And I’m sure the neighbors have seen you—although I think that’s the least of our worries.”
“Bummer,” I whispered, but Hiro had already risen again to put the kettle on and didn’t seem to hear me. I must be his worst nightmare. Just by showing up on his doorstep, I’d completely destroyed the peaceful life he’d built for himself. And now he probably felt too guilty to tell me to leave. He hadn’t asked for any of this, but here I was.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, needing time to think.
I stayed in the shower until the water turned cold. Get back in there, coward, I told myself. I threw on some clothes and returned to the kitchen, rubbing my hair with a towel, and sat down across from Hiro.
He took one look at me and immediately flung a thick stack of bills down on the table. Oh, no. It was the money my father had given me—now somewhat depleted. “What’s this?” Hiro demanded.
I stared at the bills, remembering Ohiko’s last note to me. I had one dollar left from that hundred-dollar bill, and it never left my pocket.
“And this?” Hiro emptied the bag of clothes on top of the money. All of my beautiful American-party-girl–wear suddenly looked horribly garish, even shameful. “Just what kind of game are you playing?” He was obviously struggling to keep from raising his voice. “I can’t imagine this came from anywhere but your father?”
“Yes,” I whispered. No point in lying.
“You’ve seen him?” Hiro pushed his chair back from the table and paced around the kitchen. “What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t see him,” I said meekly. “He sent it.”
“Here?” Hiro’s voice was strained. “How did he know where you were?”
“I called him. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago.” All at once I realized the magnitude of my betrayal. “He…he must have looked up your address and sent it here.”
Hiro shook his head. “This totally violates the spirit of our agreement. I can’t believe you would lie to me like that!” His voice grew louder.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said. I knew I could say it a million times and it still wouldn’t be enough. “I shouldn’t have taken the money.”
“You’re damn right. Don’t you realize what it means for your father to know where you are? Maybe you don’t think he’s a threat, but what if you’re wrong? What about my safety? Why can’t you understand the kind of danger you’re in, Heaven?” Hiro didn’t wait for my answer. “This isn’t a game. For all we know it might be Konishi who had your picture released to the media! And Konishi Kogo is not a stupid man, which means he did it for a reason.”
“It wasn’t him!” I yelled.
“How do you know that?” Hiro slammed his hand down on the counter, and I jumped at the sound. I had never seen him so angry.
I stared down at the table. “I told you. It was soon after I got here. I told Konishi it wasn’t safe for us to meet, and he respected that. He could have come here at any time, but he didn’t. Why would he release my picture to the media? It would only make things harder for him.”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore, Heaven.”
“I’m not making excuses.” I lifted my head and met his black searchlight gaze full on. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re seeing only what you want to see.” Everything was black or white to him. Konishi was my father. Whatever else he’d done, he was still my father. Why couldn’t Hiro understand that?
“And what do I want to see?” asked Hiro, raising his eyebrows.
“Obviously that I’m a stupid screwup who wouldn’t think twice before putting myself and you in danger!”
“And aren’t you?” asked Hiro, still staring into my eyes.
I couldn’t believe he’d said that to me. He might as well have punched me in the face.
“N-No!” I sputtered. “I’m telling you, I did think twice! I shouldn’t have called him, but I didn’t go meet him, did I?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Why isn’t it the point?” I sprang up from the table. I couldn’t sit here with him for one more second.
“Don’t walk away from me, Heaven,” Hiro said, his voice low and filled with warning.
I remained on my feet but stayed where I was.
“Listen to me. I think you really need to consider what you’re doing here. You may not think that answers your question, but it does. Everything is connected. Answer this question: Is this where you really want to be? If so, you need to start being honest with me—and yourself.”
“Ha!” I burst out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hiro asked, his eyes flashing.
“It means I’m not the only one sneaking around and keeping secrets.” I couldn’t believe he could be so hypocritical.
“When do I keep secrets?” He pressed his palms flat against the table, clearly trying to stay calm.
“Oh, I don’t know—” I threw my arms in the air. “Maybe when you leave for a night and don’t even have the courtesy to tell me where you’re going?”
“There is such a thing as privacy, you know,” said Hiro.
A flash of jealousy tore through me. I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out. “So how do I know you’re not just trying to keep me from contacting my father so you can deliver me to someone else? Maybe Ohiko was wrong to trust you.”
Now Hiro looked like he’d been punched. His dark eyes glowed brighter, and he ran his hand through his hair several times quickly before responding. When he did, his voice was quiet and measured but husky. Pretty scary, actually.
“I have taken you in and supported you when you had nowhere else to turn. Don’t you think that if I had wanted to use you like that, I could have done it a thousand times by now? If someone wanted me to kill you for them, I could have easily let the thugs take you that day you were attacked or even let you drown in the ocean. It would have been so easy.”
There wasn’t anything to say. He was right. Hiro continued:
“And as for where I was last night—how about you?” Hiro picked up the tank top I’d worn the night before. “This reeks of smoke and alcohol. I leave for one night and you turn into party girl?”
“Why should I tell you where I was?” I lifted my chin. “Maybe I’d like some privacy, too.”
“Fine. You’re on your own. I have to go to work,” Hiro said, going into the living room. “I probably won’t be back until very late.” He stalked out of the kitchen. “Don’t even think about leaving this house,” he added, then slammed the front door behind him.
I wanted to scream at him to come back. I wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry I was and ask him to forgive me. But I didn’t. I just sank back down onto the kitchen chair and thought about how the fragile new world I’d built for myself had shattered. It was over. What had I done?
And then the phone rang.
Hiro, I thought. He’s already sorry. He wants to work things out. I scrambled up and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“It’s your father.”
In spite of myself I shivered. I hadn’t heard Konishi’s voice since that first phone call, which now seemed an eternity ago. His voice was urgent. “Have you seen the news?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my body frozen.
“Listen to me, Heaven….” My father’s voice reached me as if over a vast space. “I did not order that picture circulated. Whoever it is that wants to harm you has leaked this story to the press. They’re getting frustrated. They want to find you, and they won’t rest until they do. There is no time for games, Heaven. You must let me help you.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” I moaned, forcing the words out of me, still unable to muster the “no” I felt in every fiber of my being. Tears pressed behind my eyes. Why was I telling him no? Hiro didn’t w
ant me anymore. I had nowhere else to go.
“Heaven. Please think about what I have asked you,” my father begged. I had never heard him use that tone before. “You know that I could have come to you if I’d wanted to—but I didn’t because I was afraid I might lead them to you. You must meet me somewhere tonight where we can talk at more length.”
Meet him. If I went to meet him, I knew I would never come back. I just wouldn’t be strong enough. Yet there were so many reasons I wanted to see Konishi. So many questions I wanted to ask him. Why did you let Ohiko die?
“Where?” I whispered.
“I’m going to give you the address of a restaurant in Little Tokyo. It’s called Kobayashi. The owners are friends. We will be safe. Meet me there at midnight.”
“Yes.” I began to cry as I wrote down the address on a slip of paper by the phone. He was right—I couldn’t hide from him forever. I didn’t want him to come here. I didn’t want to put Hiro in any danger just because I’d been silly enough to place a call to my father’s cell phone. How could I have been so stupid?
“Don’t cry, little Heaven. Soon you will be safe.”
The line went dead.
I put down the phone and went to check the locks on the doors and windows. I tried desperately to think of some way I could go to see my father and still be honest with Hiro, some way to do what he’d think was right. But it was too late. I’d made my decision, and the rest was up to fate.
Ohiko was dead. Nothing could change that. Right or wrong, I had to face my father.
When darkness came, I changed into my jeans and pulled on a clean black T-shirt and sweatshirt, then sat down at the kitchen table and began to write Hiro a note. Dear Hiro, I started:
First, I want to thank you for your generosity. You helped me when I had nobody else to turn to. I also thank you for teaching me and agreeing to be my trainer. I’ve learned more than you could ever imagine. I’m sorry it didn’t work—I guess I just wasn’t cut out to be a samurai. You asked me to accept death, but I know now that I can never do that—my true path is finally clear to me. By the time you read this, I will be with my father. After you left today, he called. I’m sorry I didn’t wait to tell you, but it’s only because you were right—contact with my father wasn’t part of the deal, and that’s why I’m leaving. I don’t know what he has to say, but I know that I have to listen to him say it. I owe it to my family. I owe it to Ohiko.
I tapped the pen against my teeth (an old habit) and thought about how to end the note.
As it turns out, I’m better at being taken care of than doing things for myself. But maybe I really can do more to find out who killed Ohiko from home than in hiding. I will always remember you, and I am sorry for causing so much trouble. I’m sure you’ll have a more worthy student someday. Good luck with your journey.
I signed the letter With love, Heaven and slid it gently under the teapot where Hiro would be sure to see it. Then I uncrinkled the excerpt from the Samurai Creed, which I’d been carrying in my pocket since Hiro gave it to me, and propped it up next to my note. Since I wasn’t going to be a samurai, there was no point in taking it with me. And it would just remind me of Hiro.
I wanted to stay with him so badly, I realized as I stared at the note and the creed. I would miss his goodness and his wisdom. I would miss the way he laughed when I managed to get a laugh out of him. I would miss that feeling of oneness when we trained together, our bodies moving in unison. He was a skillful teacher.
I sighed. It was the student who was the disappointment.
I fitted one of Hiro’s baseball caps firmly on my head and went to the hall closet, where we’d been storing the Whisper of Death, and pulled it out. I found a poster tube under Hiro’s futon and slipped the Whisper into it. A perfect fit.
I took one last look in the bathroom mirror. I saw only the innocent face of a college student going to an art class: just a nice California girl with a thin face and a thick black ponytail. The only difference was the dark circles under my eyes, eyes that were also red from crying.
Good-bye, Hiro, I thought. Maybe we’ll see each other again someday. It seemed impossible that I was leaving the little house on Lily Place forever. In a very short time it had already become an oasis of comfort and calm.
But that was just what I was about to do. I had to face the truth—no matter how painful it was.
I locked the door behind me and set out for Little Tokyo.
Today’s the first day since I started working that I’ve been tempted to call in sick. It’s torture to be here, riding through the streets of downtown, tramping through these high-tech office buildings with my envelopes and packages when Heaven’s life is threatened.
But what can I do? It wouldn’t help anything for me to sit at home next to her. Besides, she needs to reconsider what it is she really wants.
Loyalty is a difficult concept.
It used to be that samurai knew to whom they owed allegiance. They protected one master and one master only. If the master died an honorable death, then the samurai could continue to devote himself to the family. If the master’s death was dishonorable or brought about by a failure in the samurai’s protection, then the samurai would commit seppuku, thereby regaining his honor.
Things are more complicated now. It is not possible to remain loyal to all the people we let into our lives. I don’t know if her loyalty is in doubt or if she’s just young. When I found that money and those clothes, I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. I thought we had no secrets. I thought she trusted me.
No—that’s not right. I thought she had no secrets. There are certain things that I have to hide from her. I know she suspects me. I shouldn’t have gone away last night.
It was selfish. Foolish. We’re going to have to start again if we continue at all.
If we continue at all…
Why is it I can’t imagine life without her?
Hiro
18
The street was deserted.
I walked up and down the block twice, making sure to keep as close to the buildings as possible. As far as I could tell, no one had followed me. I crept up to the door of the restaurant, which was nestled between a liquor store and a garish knick-knack shop, and took a deep breath. The door was made of a thick, heavy black wood and had no glass on it at all, just the Japanese symbol for purity painted near the top in sweeping gold strokes. The heavy iron doorknob turned easily, and I slipped inside, closing the door behind me quietly.
When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that I was in a much larger space than would have seemed possible from the outside. Raw wood beams lined the ceiling and towered up along the sides of the room, creating a maze of smaller grottos full of empty tables set for diners who weren’t there. A delicate waterfall had been built right in the entryway, and water tinkled quietly over the rocks into a large bamboo tub. It reminded me of many of the restaurants our father had taken us to back in Tokyo.
I stood by the door and strained to use all the sensory skills that Hiro and I had talked about. After a few deep breaths I tried to clear my mind of everything but the sounds of the room, searching the rhythms of the building for anything that seemed out of place. The sound of trickling water ran over the softer hum of the building itself—electricity, maybe, or a generator of some sort? A faint ticking came from a clock on the wall, and the only breathing I could hear was my own. Skirting the beams on the perimeter of the room, I peered into the dark corners. Nothing.
The restaurant door opened and I jumped behind a beam, clutching the poster tube to my chest. I could feel my heart beating against the cardboard.
“Heaven?”
A light came on in the entryway, revealing my father’s silhouette. His long shadow fell across the empty center of the room. He took a step forward. Seeing the familiar broad shoulders, the bearish head above his tall, solid body, filled my heart with sadness. More than anything, I wished that things didn’t have to be so complicated. My lips trem
bled, and I felt transformed into a little girl again. Before I knew it, I was in his arms.
“Oh, Heaven,” he said as we hugged. “Thank God you’re all right.”
I clung to him like a little kid, and he patted my head, murmuring soothing words. It had been so long since he’d hugged me like this. I could smell the piney scent of his aftershave and feel the smooth silk of his suit against my cheek. Wasn’t this what I had wanted, especially over the last few years when his moments of tenderness had dried up and the rigid, authoritarian side of Konishi Kogo had taken over completely? The thought that I had doubted him when he might have needed my help and support seemed unbearable, and the tears I’d been holding back finally escaped, wetting the lapel of his suit.
“Come home, Heaven,” said my father, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, his other arm still around me. “We need you.”
I forced myself to pull away from him, taking a step back as I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, trying to collect myself. It couldn’t be this easy. There were questions he needed to answer.
“Why didn’t you help him?” I blurted before I lost my nerve. “How could you just stand there and let him die?”
My father sighed and walked over to a set of tables, where he turned on another small lamp. With a shock, I realized that he looked like he had aged ten years in the weeks since I had seen him. His clothes were still impeccable, but his magnificent black hair was streaked with gray, and the circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than my own. He looked like a man who had completely given up sleep.
“Listen to me, daughter. Whatever the disagreements between your brother and me, you cannot possibly believe that I would want my own son dead.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything? I know you had a gun.” The small light threw shadows on his face, making him look first strange, then familiar, then strange again.
“Do you think I didn’t want to? Do you think I preferred to stand there and watch my only son be killed?” His voice was filled with sadness.