This was amasterpiece.
Custom-forged. Hand-engraved. The black amber resin alone would have cost a fortune, not to mention the gold detailing or the fucking dragon nib withruby eyes.
For me, this pen was more sacred than any diamond.
Kenji didn’t just walk into a store and buy this. No. This was a backroom commission. Quiet phone calls. Under-the-table strings pulled. Money that didn’t get discussed, just wired.
I swallowed hard.
This pen. . .the ink. . .even the box. . .easily costtensof thousands.
"The ink is handmade too,” He spoke like he hadn’t completely wrecked me. “I was told that it dries nearly black, but under candlelight it glows purple. I thought you would like the duality, but I can have them—"
"Kenji. . .this is perfect. It’s all. . .perfect. It’s. . ." I made sure to not blink, too embarrassed to let myself show tears. “No one has ever given me something like this before. Forget the fact that it is expensive and luxurious, but this says. . .”
He studied me. “What does it say, Tora?”
“It says, ‘I see you and I love every part.’”
“That Tora is an understatement. I more thanseeyou and because of that. . .I want to spoil you. I went around Paris searching for the right pen just to tell you that I am amazed and impressed with your writing career, but. . .I couldn’t find anything that deserved your hands.”
A sob hit my throat so fast I had to clutch the pen tighter just to ground myself.
“So I had one built and even still. . .I’m not sure it is enough.”
“It is enough.” Tears pressed against my lashes.
He must have seen them because he leaned forward and kissed each eye, stealing away my tears.
And in that moment, with the chopper slicing through the night, and a chaotic Tokyo leaving us, I didn’t just feel protected.
I felt chosen.
And that terrified me more than any oncoming war.
Chapter six
The Hidden Island
Nyomi
The flight blurred after that.
I remember the steady thrum of the blades above us, twisting into a lullaby of metal and wind.
Kenji’s huge hand held mine. His palm was warm. Our fingers remained threaded together.
Within comfortable silence, I watched the veins on the back of his hand and the way his thumb moved in slow, unconscious circles over my hand.
I couldn’t imagine all the things that were on his mind. What did it truly mean for him to go to war with his own father? How much would he gain and how much would he lose?
I caught the way his jaw tightened. I knew enough about father wounds to understand that even justified rage still didn’t setone free. Sometimes it shackled a person’s heart and mind even tighter.
I leaned against his shoulder, and his body was all steel and calm. The ache behind my ribs deepened for him.
Twenty minutes later, we landed under moonlight. The rotor blades slowed with a long metallic groan. The sky outside the window was a deep black. Stars scattered across darkness. When the wheels touched down, a soft jolt traveled through the floor and up our bodies.
Kenji’s hand tightened on mine just slightly.
