“For what?”
"This is calledbuyo. It’s a traditional dance theater. Sword performance."
My head found the curve of his shoulder, and his hand settled on my hip, warm and possessive through the silk of my phoenix gown.
The three figures had stopped at the edge of the 4D display and waited.
This is going to be interesting.
More figures emerged from the shadows behind them.
Musicians.
Three of them, dressed in dark traditional clothing. One carried a shamisen—I recognized the three-stringed instrument from our first date. Another held a bamboo flute. A third settled behind with an odd-shaped drum. And the koto player I'd noticed earlier adjusted her position and got closer to them.
"When I was young, my father would leave for long trips. Weeks sometimes. Months." Kenji's thumb traced lazy circles on my hip. "My mother never turned on the television. She said screens were empty. Cold. Instead, she would bring performers to the house to entertain me."
I tilted my head to look at him. “That’s so cool.”
"It was. There were tons of them. Musicians. Dancers. Storytellers." A soft smile touched his lips. "I would sit with her in the great room and watch for hours. I felt like the luckiest boy in the world."
My heart squeezed. “Your mother was awesome.”
“She was. . .and although. . .she’s not here. . .” He sighed. "I wanted to share her tradition with you. Similar to your dinner for me at Hiroko’s club, showing me parts of you. I want to give you a piece of my childhood."
I reached up and touched his jaw. "Thank you."
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my palm. “You’re welcome, Tora.”
Then the music began.
I put my view back on the performance.
The koto sang first—a single, haunting note that hung in the air.
The shamisen joined, plucking a melody that made my chest ache.
The flute breathed soft and mournful.
And beneath it all, the drum began a slow rhythmic beat.
Like a heartbeat.
Like footsteps approaching.
The woman moved first.
She glided along miniature Tokyo, weaving between buildings that rose to her shoulders.
Her fire-colored kimono rippled as she danced past Ginza’s towers, and her movements were playful and teasing.
She spun between skyscrapers, and her fingers trailed along rooftops, as a coy smile spread across her painted lips.
Further behind and almost hidden, the two men stood on opposite ends of the 4D city.
One near Shibuya, on my left. The towering buildings of that district blocked his view of the other side.
One near Shinjuku, on my right. The dense wall of skyscrapers hid everything beyond.
