I reached for the gauze and wrapped her palms. “This will help. Keep them from irritating you while you sleep.”
“I’m sorry, Jiro. I know I’m not easy to be with right now.”
“Akiko, stop. I’m here for you no matter what. We’ll get through this. Together.”
“I keep replaying it over and over. I walked out with the trash, same as always. I was sorting trash into the bins, about to go back in, when I saw it. That message. Hanging on the wall like it was meant for me: You took from me. I take from you. What else could that mean, Jiro? It has to be Reina. It’s because of me?—”
“Us, Akiko. We both survived. We both ended the Sakamoto legacy.”
“Exactly. We took from her. Now she wants to take from me—my restaurant, everything I’ve built. You think that’s a coincidence? You think some random troll wrote that?”
“I don’t know, okay? I’m as lost as you are. But listen, we didn’t do wrong. We did what we had to. If we hadn’t fought, we’d be dead, and that cult would still be out there.”
“Maybe I imagined it,” Akiko whispered.
“You didn’t,” I said, too fast.
She looked up.
“I mean, maybe you saw something. Stress does weird things. I’ve read about PTSD.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m broken?”
“No. Of course not.” I hesitated, choosing my words. “I think you went through something traumatic. We both did. And that doesn’t just vanish. We survived what most people couldn’t even comprehend. We can’t expect to walk away clean. If you want to try therapy again, that’s okay. I could even join you for a few sessions.”
“But you’re not the one seeing Reina.”
“True. But I’ve got my own scars. Just not visual ones.”
Akiko stood, letting the towel fall. I picked it up while she slipped into her robe. I then grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped her hair. When she finally turned, her eyes locked with mine.
“I want to go there,” she said.
“Go where?”
“The compound.”
“It’s gone, Akiko.”
“But I can’t shake this feeling. Something in me says I need to go, that I’ll find answers there.”
“There’s nothing left, from what I’ve heard. An empty lot with ash and rubble that’s still for sale.”
“Then I’ll sift through the ash.”
3
Akiko Ono
The next morning, I woke to Jiro’s arm draped across my waist, his body warm against mine. There was comfort in that—knowing that no matter the chaos we faced, we always found our way back to each other. We never went to bed angry. We said what needed to be said and let time do the rest.
I turned toward him and pressed my face against his chest. God, I loved the way he smelled—clean skin, sleep, and something I could never quite name but always wanted to bottle.
“Good morning, my love,” he murmured, pulling me closer.
Last night still echoed in my chest, everything I’d said and felt. But Jiro never made me feel ridiculous for falling apart. He never flinched. He just held on. He always had. He kissed the top of my head, soft and unhurried. I reached down.
Well, someone was awake.
