Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
"Must be pretty freaky then." Hiro reclaimed the sake. "I ask because the image I walked in on this morning now lives in my head rent free and I deserve context."
"You deserve nothing." I settled my hand back into Nyomi's braids.
She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. "Koi."
We both looked at her.
"That should go up on the ceiling. Gold and red koi swimming in a circle." She tilted her head further back and took in the plaster like she was already commissioning the mural. "Lotus flowers around the edges. And a moon."
Hiro put the sake on the nightstand close to him and stared up too. "Full moon or crescent?"
"Full."
"Yes." A long, satisfied exhale left him and he laid back down. "A full moon should go there because. . .that's the moon that witnesses everything. It knows it all. The truth. The lies. The things left unsaid."
The three of us went quiet after that.
Nyomi's breathing slowed and deepened. It wasn’t sleep, but close to it.
I leaned toward my nightstand, grabbed the small remote, and pressed it.
Sound rose into the space. The shakuhachi flute sang low through the bamboo. Then a koto joined it. The musician perfectly plucked the strings one at a time. And all the notes twisted together in the most spiritual way.
It was music for temples. . .and endings. . .
Rest in peace, Hiroko.
Nyomi turned her face slightly toward my throat and exhaled.
Hiro closed his eyes.
I set the remote down and pulled her closer.
With Hiro’s eyes still closed, he whispered, “This is nice.”
Nyomi snuggled up against me. “It is.”
And I wasn’t sure if they were talking about our moment on the bed or the music. Maybe they meant all of it. Maybe there was no difference.
The music played another bar. Then another. The shakuhachi vibrated through the speakers and the koto answered in pure harmony.
Hiro opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long moment like he was reconsidering the koi mural in real time.
A minute later, he sat up, reached into his front pocket, produced a single joint, and held it up between two fingers. It was rolled tight. The red paper was thin, and the ends were twisted closed.
I leaned my head to the side. "Where did you get that?"
"When Reo sent me to grab Hiroko, she was getting dressed." Hiro turned the joint slowly between his fingers. "Her slave was rolling five of these. I thought they were cute and said so. Hiroko heard me, came out, and told her slave to give me one."
I eyed him. "Slave?"
Hiro shrugged. "Love slave. Sex slave. I don’t know. He crawled out of a cage. When he was finished rolling the joints, he crawled back in."
What the fuck?
Nyomi sighed into my chest. "We'll have to figure out what to do with him. Zo should know what Hiroko wanted."
"Either way." Hiro looked at the joint one more time. "Hiroko would have wanted us to smoke this in her honor."
The room held that.
I shook my head. "I'm already pretty tipsy."
"Yeah." Hiro met my eyes. "But you need to get high."
He glanced down at Nyomi, then back at me. "With this war. . .and now we have an idea about where our father is hiding. . .when are you going to get another chance to do this?"
I thought about what was coming.
The chaos.
The death.
The endings.
The beginnings.
What could go wrong? Hiro, my Tiger, and me high. This will be interesting.
I shrugged. "Light it up."
Chapter two
Smoke and Memories
Kenji
Hiro lit the joint with a silver lighter.
The flame leapt toward the joint’s twisted end. The red paper glowed and then blackened.
Once fully lit, he snapped the lighter shut.
The flame died.
As he held in the smoke, all tension left his jaw. His shoulders dropped half an inch. His muscular chest expanded. His eyes went half-lidded and still.
When he finally exhaled, two slow gray columns of smoke spiraled from his nostrils and then dissolved into the air above him.
I smiled.
He shook his head slowly like he was clearing it. "This is good shit."
I quirked my brows. “Is it?”
“Yeah.” He looked at the joint with new respect. "Who knew Hiroko had a good connect?"
I thought of Hiroko in heaven watching us smoke this joint and my smile widened.
The scent of marijuana layered itself over everything. Over the cedar incense. Over my Tiger’s black amber and plum. It was earthy, sweet, and slightly floral.
Hiro turned toward Nyomi. "Come here, Tora."
Nyomi sat up and left my chest, taking away the warmth of her body.
I reached out and ran my finger along a braid that hung down her back.
Hiro eyed her. “Do you know what a shotgun is?”
“Of course.”
Hiro placed the joint to his lips and pulled from it again. The tip brightened. He held the smoke in his lungs and leaned toward her.
Nyomi turned her face to his.
He brought his mouth close to hers.