Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Like a dog.
I didn’t realize it then because I was poor, humbled, and grateful. I thought of him as my friend. One time the bastard flippantly asked if I traded the books for nourishment. I didn’t understand his slight and said the content was sustenance enough for me.
It was then that I would do anything for him. Fight the rich kid’s bullies. Keep him safe and bow to the ground for another volume of prose. I was loyal to Michie. A brother.
When Michie discarded his woman, much like he had a wealth of stories his father gave him, I realized he could not be a friend of mine. He gave her away but still ended up being owned by Tatchan yakuza, all because of his debt. A debt that should have cost a life, his life, though he tried to sell his woman to pay that debt. Had Michie been a mere stranger and not a friend of mine, the ungrateful leech’s actions would have concluded with the demise of his entire family. He never knew that, of course.
I saved his woman and, in a sense, the Yamazaki family line.
So now, because he treated me like a dog, paying me in scraps, and discarded the woman he claimed to love, I’ve taken on the role of taunting him. Taunting him by ensuring that he cleans Tatchan funds in Los Angeles for the rest of his life. Taunting him by withholding the whereabouts of his woman. A woman who will never have to use her body to pay his debt.
Michie answers on the first ring. “You found her?”
I pause for effect. Michie signed the contract, retaining his life, and created the ultimate sacrifice out of his woman. It was about ten years in that I shared how she escaped Osaka. My boss never desired her for a mistress, and she hadn’t endured a single day as Tatchan property.
“False alarm. The woman I found lived in your backyard.” I grin into the phone. “Similar beautiful hue and hair. Nevertheless, not her. My mistake.”
“Ah, a mistake.” The sour note in his tone fades. “Friend . . .”
Sensing a thread of hope in Michie’s tone, I reply, “Yes?”
“Have you spoken with Osaka? After all, you said I didn’t deserve to be owned forever.”
“Michie,” my tone’s deliberate, slow, plagued by regret for his dilemma. A conundrum that he caused. “Every time I am permitted to speak with my boss, I implore on your behalf. Every. Single. Time.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Oh, no? No groveling, no begging? “Again, my mistake.” I offer one last apology before hanging up. I rise from the edge of the bed, toss the phone, and fork my hand through my long hair until I’ve pulled it into a knot.
Michie Yamazaki never placed a finger on his woman. Nevertheless, she endured misuse at his hands. That’s its own abuse. Like my mother, my new woman has been violated. The scars are evident, yet she won’t admit it.
I find myself seeking her out. As I knock on the fusuma, the maid slides the door open and exits, boxing Ryann into the room. The maid bends into a deep bow, then apologetically explains that Ryann has just finished showering.
“Let my guest know that I’m waiting for her. Also, find Umito.”
The maid nods, opens the door, and slides it shut behind her. I’m not permitted a simple glance at my future.
Stepping outside, I inhale a lung full of frigid, fresh air. Snowcapped mountains rise in the distance as I await Ryann’s presence. Behind me, the door slides open. I glimpse the maid’s reflection in the waters below, then turn around.
My brow tips.
The maid bows and makes another apology. “Miss Ryann is exhausted. Please return tomorrow.”
Over the next few days, the same scene plays out. The maid bends and bows until her knees clamor for the wooden planks, and she apologizes for Ryann’s lack of presence.
Another day offers another excuse, cushioned by a further apology and fear-wrought eyes. Aware that Ryann’s dismissed me, Umito’s gaze lays prostrate on each encounter over the next four days. I note a glint of curiosity as he silently questions why he’s here, bearing witness to this humiliation.
Is it for another thrashing?
The short answer is no.
Umito has a knack for recalling minor details. He’s also very intuitive. I wanted him to listen to Ryann’s story again while I comforted her. With my past, I’m not optimistic I can be objective.
“Miss.”
The maid cranes her neck from her bow as I hold out a small gift box and a letter.
“Please ensure that Ryann receives this.”
The maid arises, exhaling in relief. As she slips into Ryann’s quarters, not offering an extra inch of the viewing room, I turn to Umito and address him.
“She will explain herself. You will note the tedious details—names, locations—gather required intelligence.”
“Boss, might I suggest—”