Page 41

Chapter 41

Kaneko

F ishing soothed me. I was reluctant to admit it, not wanting to give Kazashita and Irie the win, but it was true. The physical labor eased more aches than it created, and the freedom to breathe deeply of the ocean’s tang fed my soul. Still, given how The Worm and other large vessels had recently met their fates, my new vocation was not without its dangers.

Fear still rippled through the village like a storm-churned tide.

The few shipwreck survivors who had seen the tentacled beasts firsthand spoke in hushed, broken accounts, their words unreliable yet terrifying. Some claimed the creatures had always lurked beneath the waves and were now drawn to the surface in search of easier prey. Others whispered of dark sorcery, blaming the Emperor for conjuring fresh horrors to tighten his grip on power—though that theory held little weight, as the monsters attacked both Imperial and pirate ships indiscriminately. A few religious zealots spun elaborate tales of warring gods and vengeful spirits. Few paid them much mind.

As wild as the stories became, two threads wove through every whisper: No one had ever seen anything like the terrifying tentacles that had grasped and sunk two war ships, and no one wanted to risk their wrath.

I tried to ignore the talk, to take comfort in the fact that no small ships had been reported lost to marauding monsters. Still, I couldn’t help eyeing particularly enormous waves or unusual ripples as they passed.

At the end of an especially long and hot day, as I handed over my haul to a dour-faced Kenji, Irie ambled up, her nose wrinkling before she made it within three paces of me.

“If you think you are stepping one foot inside my shop smelling like the guts of a whale, you’d best think again, young man.”

Kenji grunted, the closest thing to a laugh I’d heard since meeting the mountainous man.

“Sorry, I kind of fell into the fish.”

Irie snorted, covering her mouth and nose with practiced drama. “How does one fall into fish?”

I shrugged. “He trips and tumbles into his net, then flops along with his catch, trying not to get stuck by fins.”

Her howl traveled far down the road, turning heads at nearby stalls.

“Grandmother!” a melodic voice called from a dozen paces away.

Both of our heads snapped toward the voice. Irie shot a glance my way, then blew out a frustrated breath. “Well, shit, speaking of sharks.”

I strangled a laugh at Irie’s curse, took coins from Kenji, payment for my day’s catch, then turned back toward my highly irritated hostess.

“When you meet this one, you’ll probably say a hell of a lot worse.” Irie waved a dismissive hand. “Now, come on, there’s no avoiding a fucking storm. One must sail through it and hope the mast holds. Remember, you’re a slave. A slave wouldn’t look her in the eye or speak without permission.”

“A slave?” We hadn’t used that story in weeks, probably longer. No one on the island thought of me as such. I was just another mainlander who’d been absorbed into their community.

But Irie’s gaze was ice, her jaw set, so I nodded and bit my usually sharp tongue. She was on fire, and this was a show I had to see.

We’d only taken a couple of steps when the crowd parted, and the owner of the voice glided forward. Despite our presence on a forgotten island surrounded by pirates in the middle of a monster-infested sea, Taira walked with the poise of a royal, her chiseled chin high and perfect skin glowing in the sunlight. Flowing raven hair swooped across her forehead and blew in the breeze as though someone fanned her to create the effect.

Taira was the image of Mugen beauty and grace, and I instantly hated her.

“Grandmother,” Taira said again as we neared.

The girl offered a respectful bow, then stepped forward and gave Irie a polite hug. I stifled a laugh as Irie winced.

Taira wheeled to face me. Somehow, her chin rising even further.

“What are you laughing at, slave ? Be silent, or I will have Kazashita- san beat you.”

My jaw dropped. The girl had switched from doting daughter to vile mistress before I could blink. How could Kazashita ever love such a creature?

Taira’s glare became predatory, and I realized I had met the girl’s eyes—and still held them. I quickly lowered my gaze and bowed deeply.

“Kaneko is a member of my household now. He is no slave,” Irie said, surprising me with the ferocity of her defense.

Taira’s scowl deepened as she drank in my dingy, fish-gut-covered frame—then softened, turning back to Irie.

Over the next half hour, I listened intently as Taira prattled on about other girls her age as though they were forever locked in mortal combat. She raved about a supposed friend, then stabbed her repeatedly with accusations and innuendos.

For her part, Irie barely spoke. The old woman simply nodded and asked more questions, encouraging Taira until the girl had exhausted her will to compete. A few times, I noticed Taira glance my way as though checking to see if I was maintaining an appropriate distance, was keeping my eyes downcast, or some other nonsense.

I had barely moved.

As Taira began scanning the crowd for others to assault, and I hoped we might escape her unbearable presence, Kazashita appeared.

“Kazi!” Taira bellowed and waved excitedly, dropping her mask of nobility to morph into a lovestruck teen.

I braved a peek to find Kazashita’s face an emotionless mask. He may as well have been carved of stone. His eyes shifted from Irie to me, then focused on Taira.

“Taira- chan ,” Kazashita replied, using the honorific normally reserved for a child or beloved grandmother, a clear slap at the haughty girl.

Taira’s broad smile never faltered, though her eyes flared.

Irie chuckled.

“Irie- san .” Kazashita bowed before turning to me and offering a slight nod. “Kaneko- san , how was your day on the sea?”

“Why are you addressing a slave so informally, Kazi?” Taira half snapped, half pouted as crimson bloomed on her cheeks.

Kazashita hesitated a half second before catching on. “What I do with my friends is none of your concern, though you might learn that treating even the least among us with respect will yield deeper loyalty and more diligent work.”

Taira started to snap back but clamped her mouth shut. A heartbeat later, her cherubic smile again parted her lips, and she gave Kazashita a shallow bow.

“Of course, Kazashita- san, as you say. I must be on my way. I am free this evening should you wish to resume our conversation in a more private setting.”

Taira spun and vanished into the crowd before Kazashita could speak.

Irie could hold back no longer. “I swear, the wakō should feed her to those demons.”

“They’d probably spit her up,” slipped from my lips.

Irie doubled over.

Kazashita shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about all of this. Taira is good at putting on a false face, even when she’s being refused. She will be out for blood.”

“Pshaw.” Irie snorted. “Let her try. What can she do to us that I haven’t seen a hundred times?”

“I wasn’t worried about what she would do to you ,” he said, glaring meaningfully toward me.

Irie shrugged. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. Come, help me with my shopping. I’m sure Kaneko would appreciate company a little closer to his age, and you can protect us from the hawkers trying to shove fish into my basket.”

My control cracked, and a laugh escaped. When Irie chuckled, my amusement grew into deep-throated laughter. Kazashita clung to his irritation but couldn’t hide a grin of his own.

“You two will be the death of me. Can we get this shopping over with, please?” he grumbled.

An hour later, Irie, Kazashita, and I turned from the market to walk back to Irie’s shop. The road was unusually crowded, so Kazashita steered us down a side path that circled around the village’s center. We pulled up short when two shirtless wakō came into view. Behind them stumbled a line of bedraggled, manacled women connected by a long chain that rattled as they trudged forward.

“Out of the way. Stand back,” one of the wakō barked as the caravan approached. The other pirate glared at Kazashita, then stopped as he noticed me.

Kazashita stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Is there a problem?”

“Who the fuck are you? Step back,” the pirate growled.

“That’s Kazashita, you idiot,” the other pirate whispered urgently. “First mate to Fujita Kichi Taichou .”

Kazashita’s blade sang as he drew it from its sheath.

The pirate glared and made to step forward, but his mate gripped his arm. “Are you mad? Attack a taichou ’s mate, and we’ll never sail again. They’ll give us to the sea—if we’re lucky.”

The first man towered over Kazashita, his lips pulled back in a primal snarl. He muttered something under his breath and spat at Kazashita’s feet, then turned and shoved his partner out of his path.

As the wretched slaves passed, Kazashita turned to Irie and whispered, “That was close. I think he recognized Kaneko from The Worm . We need to get back to the shop.”

Irie nodded and turned, but I didn’t budge.

“Kaneko? Dear, we need to go,” Irie whispered.

Then the old woman noticed my widened eyes and followed my gaze.

Midway back in the line of slaves was a girl no older than twelve. While the others in iron hunched and shuffled, this girl glided with her head held high. I marveled at how one in such a state could carry herself with such grace. Beneath the grime, her face was smooth and white as the finest pearl. Remnants of ruby paste clung to her lips where she had once taken pride in her beauty.

“Kibo?” I wondered, louder than I’d intended.

The girl’s head snapped at the use of her name. Her eyes met mine, and tears leaked beyond the porcelain shell she’d created to protect herself.

“Kaneko?” Kibo choked out.

I had only taken two strides before Kazashita’s grip jerked me back. Curious passersby stopped to witness the exchange. It was a fascinating sight: a slave being recognized—nameless becoming known.

“Let’s go. Now.” Kazashita shoved me forward with one hand while tugging at Irie with the other. I tried to resist, but he was too strong, too determined.

“Kaneko!” Kibo screamed. Then she wailed as one of the wakō punched her in the stomach for speaking without permission. I lurched against Kazashita’s grip. I watched the child double over. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she dropped to her knees.

“I have to help her, please. She is my friend,” I begged.

Kazashita wrapped an arm around me and never slowed, though he did whisper in my ear, “There is no help for her now . . . only for you.”

Onlookers parted, allowing us through as Kazashita hustled us back toward Irie’s home. We were so caught up in the madness of the moment that none of us noticed a raven-haired girl with an imperious gaze glaring at us from the opposite side of the road.