Revelations

Luckily for Oto and his lechery, Hayami had gone easy on him, only pinching his nose between relatively gentle slaps across the face. She left him well enough to retreat from her room like a dog with its tail between its legs. This had given her plenty of time to think. And think she did.

It had been almost half a day since the bedroom incident, yet Hayami was still unable to drive the thoughts from her mind. She had rested long enough in the sheets, wrestling with the thoughts of their bodies pressed together and the gentle pressure of his warmth between her thighs as she mounted him. Her heart raced at the realization that she had slept beside him. Her. In such a vulnerable state that she had never shared with another soul. And the fact that she had even gone so far as to pin his firm form beneath her while she slept was enough to burn her cheeks.

With the time she spent alone, Hayami determined that if she was going to continue to wrestle with the thoughts of the boy, she needed to explain something to him. Something about herself. Maybe not that she was sent to kill him, but that she was a killer and that her father and his knew each other because their families were enemies.

Dressed in a set of relaxed, modern athleisure clothes that she had requested, Hayami wandered the unfamiliar beach house like a curious cat. Her light grey sweatpants, loose and comfortable, flowed effortlessly with her long strides as she moved from door to door, opening each in search of the boy. Stretching out, the navy bomber jacket pulled open enough to reveal the white Henley crop top she wore beneath.

With the final door she opened, a small outdoor path to a separate building was revealed to her. Steam rose from the warming stone steps as the sun, which had finally broken through the clouds, began to wipe clean the remnants of rain from the night before.

Hayami blushed as she stared at the still-damp path, thinking of Oto’s strong embrace and how comforting it was. How he had been able to do what none had before.

Am I— She thought before shaking the words from her head. No, that’s ridiculous.

Tugging at the navy baseball cap atop her head, she hardened her expression before clearing the walkway to the sliding doors of the second building. As she neared the edge, she could hear something from within. Sound of quick footsteps met her ears, followed by the snap of wood, and a cry.

The hair stood on the back of Hayami’s neck as a terrible thought crossed her mind. The terror of one of her father’s goons having found his way onto the estate.

“Oh shit!” She cried out, “Oto!”

Sliding the door open, Hayami rushed into the open room.

“Oto!” She cried out.

“Hayami!” He yelled out in response. “Wait!”

The girl froze at the threshold, her leg up mid-step as she prepared to move deeper. But then she realized that the room was empty. Aside from Oto and a striking mannequin, the space had nothing more than the wooden floors and walls.

That was when Hayami realized something else. Oto was wearing a traditional Japanese outfit, specifically, a keikogi and hakama. The black cloth of the outfit fit his body perfectly and would have matched his hair, had it not been tied up and hidden beneath a white tenugui. And, gripped firmly with the proper handhold just above the men resting atop the mannequin's head was a shinai.

Hayami couldn’t believe her eyes as she stuttered to speak.

“Y-Y-You do kendo?”

“Yes.” He replied, stepping away from the mannequin and lowering the bamboo sword. “Now, please show the dojo the respect it deserves and remove your shoes before entering.”

She was in disbelief. Oto not only practiced a modern Japanese martial art, but also respected the tradition.

Eying him, she saw no hint of deception in his look. Only a seriousness in his eyes and a reverence for the space he stood in. A look that she had only ever seen on one person other than herself.

Her mother.

Hayami’s heart began to race even faster. The feelings she had been wrestling with faded as a single emotion took hold of her. As her cheeks warmed, she nodded to Oto and removed the sneakers from her feet before stepping past the threshold of the dojo. With a respectful bow, she moved deeper into the space and eyed him once more.

He wore his usual smile. The dumb, beautiful smile that got him the views and likes online. But this time, the feeling of how much she hated it was gone. And all that remained was—

Oh my God. She thought to herself as she touched her racing heart. Am I in love with this idiot?

“Hayami,” He asked, approaching with a smirk. “Do-Do you do kendo?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hayami shook off the feeling as she attempted to focus on the question. “Most of my life. I’m Yondan.”

“You’re Yondan?!” Oto gasped in reply, quickly approaching her with an excited smile. “I-I’m Sandan. Will you have a Shiai with me? I’ll have Giles be Shinpan—he’s really fair.”

As Oto took Hayami’s hands in his own, her heart began to beat faster than she had ever felt it race. It was as though it wanted to burst. To tear through her chest and rest against his. She could feel her body warming as the world around her glowed brighter. In an instant, she was lost in his eyes. The beautiful blue eyes that she awoke to.

Hayami, no, focus. She tried to pull herself back. He’s—he doesn’t even know you. You can’t—it’s impossible. Just—just kick his ass and watch how he reacts.

“Sure, but nothing so official as a Shiai. Let’s just have a practice spar. Stop short of striking.”

“Deal!”

Hayami watched as Oto rushed towards a far corner of the room for another bamboo sword. He was excited, like a child on Christmas morning or their birthday. She could tell how much it meant to him to have a sparring partner. And, as much as she loved to win, she would make sure that she didn’t destroy his confidence. Yet another strange shift that he brought about in her, and she couldn’t explain.

“Ready?” Oto asked after handing over the shinai and taking his position.

“Ready. Don’t hold back, ‘kay?” She smirked. “I’m not going to. I still have to beat more sense into you after earlier.”

“I’m telling you! You sleep wrestled me. I’m the one who was taken advantage of.”

“Nuh-uh-uh! Enough. Let the swords do the talking.”

With a bow, Hayami watched as Oto’s normally aloof demeanour quickly hardened. His sword tapped the end of hers, gently vibrating as he tested her hold over the weapon. With a gentle flick of her sword in response, she gauged his response.

Okay, if he’s—

But in the time it took her to think, he had moved. As though he had seen her mind wander, the boy took advantage of the situation and, with a flick of his wrist, deflected her weapon. He approached, the edge of the bamboo stopping at her ear without touching.

Wait, no…

“Hah-HA!” He exclaimed proudly. “Pretty good for a Sandan, huh?”

“Oto, how?”

“Father brought in various Kendo Hanshis to train me over the years. I’m just waiting to be old enough to test once more.”

Oto rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced at the awestruck Hayami. His cheeks became red as he tried not to look too closely at her. But she could see it on his face. A look he had worn before. Excitement. Admiration.

Love.

“Oto—” She whispered.

“Hayami,” He cut her off. “Could-could we go again? That was fun.”

Something suddenly churned inside of her, a feeling she had never felt in all her years of training. It was as though butterflies had taken flight inside of her. She was light and eager for more. Not only for the challenge, but also for the companionship with Oto.

“Sure.” She finally replied with a sincere smile. “But we’re wearing bogu this time. I’m not going to lose this round.”

“Deal!” Oto exclaimed as he reached out and took her hand. “Come, let’s get it together.”

Hayami allowed him to pull her, following closely as she enjoyed the feeling of his touch. She had become so focused on his grasp and the suddenly intoxicating smell that wafted in his wake that the bookshelf she passed by barely registered in her vision. It was only a small photograph at the center of a collage of Oto’s Kendo accolades that caught her attention. And even less than that. A single person.

Hayami stopped, Oto’s hand slipping from her grasp, and she returned to the case and pressed her hands to the glass. Her racing heart shifted from joy and love to panic and torment.

“Hayami?” Oto asked, returning to her immediately. “Looking at my old awards?”

“Oto, who’s that?” She asked, poking a finger at the glass.

“Who’s who?”

Leaning in closer, Oto observed the image with an understanding nod.

“Ah,” He replied woefully. “That’s from several years ago, now. When the dojo was first made. I don’t know much about the people in the picture, but that man there, he’s my father.”

Oto pointed to a man who stood at the edge of a group of a dozen figures. Lanky, like Oto, but with golden hair and sharp, blue eyes. But that wasn’t who Hayami was focused on. It was the woman next to him. A tall, fit woman. One with a familiar smile, silver hair and amber eyes.

Hayami’s face, reflecting in the glass, resembled the woman's. It was too uncanny a resemblance to be a coincidence. And the longer she stared, the easier it was for her to tell that it was her mother looking back at her.

“And the woman beside him was his wife at the time. Mother of my brother. He was that one there.”

Hayami’s heart continued to race as she looked between Oto’s father and her mother. And knowing how her own face looked when she was displeased, she could see the sadness in her mother’s eyes. The longing. And her sideways stare at another figure. A man on the other side of the picture. A broad figure with a powerful presence. His short hair was already wearing its fair share of grey for his age.

Hayami’s father. The Boss.

And then, her eyes shifted to the final face in the picture. The one at the center of it all. A boy of sixteen who resembled Oto, not in face, but in stature alone. Their appearance was so different that she would have never guessed them siblings, as, unlike the one beside her, the brother's hair was white, and though he shared the same piercing blue eyes, his were cold and calculating.

Her heart stopped. She knew his face. Of course, she knew his face. Not from then, when he was young, but from many years later. A face that still haunted her dreams every so often. A face she swore to herself she would never forget.

Oto’s brother. The face of the first man the boss had ordered her to kill.