Bride of War by DarkandLovely
Summary:

He had always believed duty to one's country came without question. He never expected to battle between his country and his heart.


Categories: Original Fiction Characters: None
Classification: General
Genre: Action-Adventure , Drama, Erotica, Friendship, Historical, Inspirational, Romance, Suspense
Story Status: Active
Pairings: None
Warnings: Adult Situations, Character Death, Dark Fic, Extreme Language, Graphic Violence, Original Characters, Racism, Rape, Sexual Content , Strong Sexual Content , Un-betaed , Work in Progress
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 43 Completed: Yes Word count: 138054 Read: 14491 Published: October 05 2021 Updated: October 12 2022

1. foreward by DarkandLovely

2. snippets I couldn't help but write by DarkandLovely

3. いち by DarkandLovely

4. by DarkandLovely

5. さん by DarkandLovely

6. よん by DarkandLovely

7. by DarkandLovely

8. ろく by DarkandLovely

9. なな by DarkandLovely

10. はち  by DarkandLovely

11. by DarkandLovely

12. じゅう by DarkandLovely

13. じゅういち by DarkandLovely

14. じゅうに by DarkandLovely

15. じゅうさん by DarkandLovely

16. じゅうよん by DarkandLovely

17. じゅうご by DarkandLovely

18. じゅうろく by DarkandLovely

19. じゅうなな by DarkandLovely

20. じゅうはち by DarkandLovely

21. じゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely

22. にじゅう by DarkandLovely

23. にじゅういち by DarkandLovely

24. にじゅうに by DarkandLovely

25. にじゅうさん by DarkandLovely

26. にじゅうよん by DarkandLovely

27. にじゅうご by DarkandLovely

28. にじゅうろく by DarkandLovely

29. にじゅうなな by DarkandLovely

30. にじゅうはち by DarkandLovely

31. にじゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely

32. さんじゅう by DarkandLovely

33. さんじゅういち by DarkandLovely

34. さんじゅうに by DarkandLovely

35. さんじゅうさん by DarkandLovely

36. さんじゅうよん by DarkandLovely

37. さんじゅうご by DarkandLovely

38. さんじゅうろく by DarkandLovely

39. さんじゅうなな by DarkandLovely

40. さんじゅうはち by DarkandLovely

41. さんじゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely

42. よんじゅう by DarkandLovely

43. Epilogue by DarkandLovely

foreward by DarkandLovely

hi! so.. me sharing.idea 2 of 2 I had? lol 

I wish that I could take the 'ideas' I'm not certain about and put them somewhere separately. lol. Perhaps I should just make a 2022 list? Cause some of these ideas I don't think I'm going to write. I've mentioned before that I have a total of three anthologies planned lol. So it makes sense to have so many 'ideas' lol. I haven't commit to all of them.. and there are ones that I have expressed interest in writing hehe. I don't want y'all to get overwhelmed lol. 

anywhoo, here is the second idea that I mentioned that I had come up with... something unique (I feel) and something I've never written about before. 

Here goes~

 

set to be started sometime next year hopefully 

 

a story idea of a Japanese soldier falling in love with an African American Jazz singer in late 1930s-1940s shanghai. 

He struggles between his duty and obligation to his country and the desire to love her.

 

matsuda ichiro was raised in Kurashiki, prefecture okayama. (near hiroshima) His father died in the first sino japanese war. His mother and grandmother remain. He wants to make the memory of his father proud and happily enlists into the army when the second world war starts. The journey leads him to be stationed at a base in shanghai. There he comes to meet beatrice jones one night, she being a frequent performer to entertain the troops. First listen first sight...he in immediately smitten. 

set in 1943.

Their romance starts as a slow burn. They are both hesitant and unsure of their attraction to each other but eventually they come to accept it. Things take a disastrous turn as the city's chinese population are rounded up and put into concentration camps. She is taken along with her family and is put into one just as he is shipped out to fight in the battle of bairoko. When he returns two years later in 1945, he has become war hardened and cold.

 

Kudo Kosei as Matsuda Ichiro (24)

Halle Bailey as Beatrice Jones (20) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    TEASER ONE 

 

 

    The sounds of jazz filled the small club and the sweet smell of cigar smoke created a thick white fog. The musicians played on, lost in the moment it seemed. Eyes took in the surroundings and  he swallowed thickly. He’d never been to a place like this before but at the request of his comrade Takahashi had decided to check it out. The music was foreign yet strangely comforting. It seemed to electrify him from the inside out and set his very blood on fire. Heading to the bar, he removed his uniform hat and ordered a Russian vodka in clipped nervous English. Another suggestion from his good ole buddy Takahashi. Lifting the drink to his nose. Straight alcohol. No hints of anything else. So deceiving it appeared as smooth and clear as water. Almost like sake with a much more pungent smell.

    “Ladies and Gentleman, give a warm welcome to our next performer. She’s a modest little thing but can sing like a canary. Miss Beatrice Jones!” Feeling the heat from the drink slip into his blood stream, he turned as a woman stepped out on stage. Lifting the glass to his mouth he took another sip. As she turned towards the crowd and gave a soft smile, he choked feeling the burn of it brutally set his throat on fire. Coughing, he swallowed the pain and burn. 

    “My name is Beatrice. I was born in the States but I’ve lived here in Shanghai for the last ten years. If you don’t mind, I’d like to share a bit of home with you.” Her Mandarin was delicately favored with the Wu accent. He took another sip, eyes focused on her in her entirety. A soft piano began to play. The lights from above shined on golden brown skin. Like coffee that had cream in it, it was a rich tawny color.

    “It’s not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me. Oh no… it’s just the nearness of you…”  Small shapely lips smiled as a horn accompanied the piano. 

    “It isn’t your sweet conversation that brings this sensation. Oh no….it’s just the nearness of you…” Her face was small and heart shaped, her nose a delicate button. Enticing almond shaped eyes. She was petite both in frame and height yet an undeniable femininity caressed her. Seemed to invoke slow careful breaths from him…from every man there. Modestly dressed in a tasteful yet form fitting dress, long beige sleeves covered her arms and square shoulders shaped her own.

     Outlining her slender waist and hips, the smallest peek of her slim dainty legs seemed to tease. A plucked feather served as the singular decoration on her, plush and elegant. Her hair was uncovered, pulled away from her face in large tucked pin curls. She began to sway side to side as the vibrations took hold of her… of them all. She closed her eyes and allowed the music to move her, a sweet soulful voice filling the room with crystal clear melody. Completely enraptured, he couldn’t move or breathe for that matter until she had finished her song roaring applause accompanying her departure from the stage. 

    “You alright?” A sharp clap to his back jolted him and he tore his eyes away from the ethereal beauty of the woman. Lifting a hand to his neck, he cleared his throat. 

    “Yes. Ah…” The man smirked and nodded his head back towards the stage. 

    “She’s a beautiful girl huh?” He didn’t answer. Both men were quiet as the band began to play a slow calm tune.

    “First time here?” He ordered a gin and tonic, tightening his jaw at the grinning man. The man somehow irritated him though he was a stranger. He reminded him of Takahashi. 

    “Yes. It will be my last time here.” The man laughed suddenly, a barking gruff laugh signaling the use of a long term smoking habit. 

    “If you’re worried about finding that woman attractive don’t. In here those matters melt away with the music.” Clenching his jaw, he slid annoyed eyes towards the man and made quick work of his drink. Reaching into his pockets, he paid the tab and stood. 

    “I’m not attracted to her.” That damn grin remained on the man’s face as he watched him grab his coat and hat. 

    “They all say that at first. Somehow they manage to always find themselves here searching for the ones they said they didn’t want. Soldier or civilian. Japanese or Chinese. It doesn’t matter. Beauty is beauty and it was meant to be appreciated.” He slipped into his coat and placed his cap upon his head. With a stiff bow of the head, he made his exit from the cosy atmosphere of the lounge. And try as he might he couldn’t stop himself from hearing the sweet soft melody of her voice in his mind as he made it back to his barracks. 

 

 

 

 

TEASER TWO 

 

 

    By now she should have gotten used to the smell. But then she gathered that she never would be able to get the smell of death out of her nose even if she dug her own fingers into her nostrils. 

    “Halt!” The voice of the one the women nicknamed the devil of Mukden. Immediately, some of the women began to shake, their eyes wide with fear. She bit the inside of her cheek as the commander entered the women’s barracks. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Seedy eyes drifted across the still flies, faces ranging in color and size. How lucky was he to be in the midst of such fortune. So many different body shapes. Textures of hair, lengths and limb height.             Licking his teeth, he smirked as his eyes came across one. She curiously didn’t tremble or shake. Interesting. She was short and small. Malnutrition hallowed her cheeks and eyes. What healthy curve there used to be had started to be chipped away. And yet it didn’t diminish her beauty. In fact, it intrigued him even more. Smooth honey colored skin. Lips plump. Cracked. But indeed very bite able. Especially that bottom one. Her hair was in its wild primitive state, frazzled untamed curls pulled back with a piece of cloth. His feet led him past the other rats, insignificant. Standing directly in front of her, he grinned as he watched the muscle in her jaw tighten. 

    “What is your name?” He asked in smooth silky Japanese. By now she knew enough of it to understand minor questions and hold small conversations; what with it being force fed down her throat. 

    “Do you care what my name is?” She replied, keeping her eyes level with his chest. Laughing, he sneered, lips quirked up at the ends like a cheshire. 

    “This place hasn’t completely gotten rid of your defiance.” He lifted a finger and lifted her chin upward, bringing her gaze to his. 

    “Since you won’t give me your name I will name you.” After a short while, he spoke again. 

    “Dog.” Her eyes grew hard and he now gripped her chin. 

    “If I didn’t have enough on my plate, I’d have fun with you.” Letting her go, he took one step back from her and eyed her from head to toe. 

    “I know just where to send you.…little impassioned puppy. Someplace where the defiance and rebellion will be squeezed out of you until you’re nothing but a broken little shell.” Grabbing her arm, he began to drag her towards the door, ignoring her sudden screams and protests. 

    “Ianfu.” Two men took her from him and took her kicking and screaming out of the barracks into a separate building. Full of men, they watched as they shoved her down on the ground. 

    “Ah, a new one?”

    “Has she been broken in?”

    “She’s different. Not like the other ones.” Grabbing her by her hair, the man knelt down and pressed his lips against her ear. 

    “As of today, you will serve the great country of Japan as a public toilet until the day you die.” Letting her go, he stood. 

    “Has Matsuda returned yet?”

    “Mm. He’s just getting off the deployment truck.”

    “Takahata wants her to go to him.”

    “Hey, that’s not fair!”

    “As newly promoted officer it is. You have no say Seiki. Have fun with the others. This one goes to him.” The thousand of eyes it seemed that stared at her, slipping like fingers underneath her clothes. Tongues that licked lips, barely controlled lust in narrow eyes. Teeth grinned, like cats. Like animals. 

    “Ah, Matsuda.” She kept her head down, not enough gumption to face the eyes. 

    “The commander has gifted you with a promotion treat.”

    “That is?” The voice of the man was cold and hard… unemotional and unfeeling. 

    “Your own war bride. Just until we win the war.” 

    “Take her to my quarters.” Hands grabbed her and she began to scream again as they took her off again, deeper and deeper into the pit of hell it seemed until they shoved her into a tent. Spacious, private. The sound of boots entering made her freeze and she balled up her fists. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. She’d heard stories. She’d seen women die because of it…of this. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. 

    Young girls…some barely thirteen or fourteen years of age… beaten…raped repeatedly…sometimes thirty times a day…thirty different men… till their insides ripped apart and their outsides swelled and bruised so much the pain became unbearable. Then and only then did she begin to tremble, tears welling up in her eyes. She….she’d kill herself before she let that happen to her. She’d rather die than live a life of torture to that magnitude. 

    “Do you speak English?” The startling deepness of the male voice sent chills down her spine. Swallowing, she gave a nod. 

    “Do you know why you’re here?”

    “To die.” The boots grew closer until they stopped right in front of her. The man knelt down. He had long legs. 

    “Where are you from?”

    “Does it matter?” 

    “It doesn’t no. Nor do I really care.” The harshness of his words cut into her. 

    “Look at me.”

    “No.”

    “I won’t ask again.” ‘Or what?’ almost slipped out but she bit her tongue to quiet herself. Slowly, she lifted her head. At once, he grew slack, mouth open and eyes wide. Likewise, the man she envisioned was not who knelt before her. Not a stranger. Not a brute hungry pig eager to make her human flesh his meal. 

    “B-Beatrice?” Eyes filling with tears, she clenched her jaw. 

    “How the hell did you end up he-”

    “I thought you didn’t care.” She shot back smoothly, watery eyes growing indignant. It was his turn to tighten his jaw and he didn’t say another word as he stood. She watched as he sat down at his newly provided desk and bent over to unlace his boots. 

    “I’ll fight you until I draw my last breath.” 

    “No harm will come to you.” He answered, tone hard and flinching. 

    “I don’t believe you.” He chose not to answer, standing up to unbutton his uniform jacket. Placing it over the back of his chair, he quietly grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and slipped it into his mouth. Lifting eyes briefly to settle on her, he dropped them once more as he struck a match, the light from the fire burning up the paper and tobacco.  

    “If I wanted to, I could strip you right now and take you as many times as I wanted. The chances of you succeeding in fighting me are very slim.” 

    “I didn’t say I had to win. I just said I would fight. Winning doesn’t matter.”

    “Neither does dying apparently.” She silenced herself as he blew out a long trail of misty white smoke. 

    “If you refuse to stay here, I could always trade you to one of the other men vying for you.” 

    “You wouldn’t dare.”

    “I wouldn’t?” Knowing better than to call his bluff, she drew her fingers up into fists, digging the nails into her palms. 

    “You’re different than the last time I saw you…” She said quietly, letting her eyes drift across him. Indeed, it seemed the youth had been sucked out of his face and in its place was a hardness. A coldness. 

    “I’m sure we both didn’t expect to meet again this way. Or at all.” He replied, taking another inhale of his nicotine. 

    “And here we are.” She wasn’t sure she could call the slightest quirk movement of his lip upward as a smirk but just as quickly as she’d seen it it was gone. 

    “You might not like it but here is the safest place you could be. If I were you, I would take advantage of it.” Snuffing out his cigarette he sighed and began to unbutton his shirt forcing her eyes downward. Though she hated to admit it… he was right. He was a man of his word and his sense of honor and integrity was still so sharp. He wouldn’t harm her. 

    “You will be at my side should I leave the quarters. We will share baths. And should I be deployed, you will not be allowed to leave this place until I return.” 

    “Sounds like slavery.” 

    “Call it what you want. But I call it survival.” Turning to face her, he lifted his shirt up and over his head. 

    “I’ll take you to get some food after I clean up.” She bit her lip, damning her eyes as they slipped down his exposed chest and midsection. There was once a time when the very sight of him like this was only a dream…a fantasy in her mind. He went to go stand at a small face bowl and she licked her lips. They weren’t smitten strangers anymore. The moment of brief but intense love born to a night of jazz and sweet soft kisses had long since passed. Now, who stood before her was a callous calculated murderer and she a newly appointed sex slave by force. It would be in their best interest to play the cards right. It would be in their best interest to use each other up in order to survive the game. 

 

End Notes:

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? 

DL

snippets I couldn't help but write by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

Ichiro and Bea were on my brain y'all. I had to write something LOL. here are two snippets I wrote about them hehe. Hope y'all like them. 

*language warning*

 

snippet 1 

 

He heard it. The sharp intake of breath behind him. It took everything within him not to smirk. Slowly, his fingers kept to their work, unbuttoning button after button of his uniform shirt. 

"What are you doing? Hurry before the water grows cold." He said roughly, letting the shirt slip down his biceps to the floor. She still wasn't used to it. Them sharing baths. She always scurried to the far east end of the small tub, sinking low into the water as if he couldn't reach out and touch her if wanted to. Fingers took hold of his belt and eased the thin metal pin out of the small hole. Pulling it free from the metal holder, he tossed it away from him. Turning, he found her still clothed, staring at him. Lifting fingers to his zipper, he slowly pulled, the metallic sound piercing the quiet space. 

"You have that look." Her voice was quiet and firm. But her eyes, how they betrayed her. They'd followed his fingers movement and now though she tried not to, her very eyeballs stuck to his hands pulling his uniform pants down his hips. 

"What look?" He asked, staring at her just the same. That seemed to break whatever trance she'd been in and her eyes finally drifted away from him. 

"The same as those horny dogs just outside your door." 

"Horny dogs hm?" Sucking her teeth, she turned her back to him. 

"How then, Bea, is a horny dog supposed to look?" He questioned, slipping fingers inside of the elastic band of his boxers. 

"Don't ask something so stupid." At last, the cool air from the room touched his bottom half just as it had his upper. Nostrils flaring softly, he approached her. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her towards the tub, ignoring her audible protest. 

"You've forgotten. You've gotten comfortable. Too comfortable." Turning narrowed eyes upward, she felt her eyes grow watery. 

"What are you talking about?" Naked as the day he was brought into the world, he calmly walked over to his desk, neat clean, and pristine as always. Lifting his holster, he quietly removed the gun from within its confinement. At once, she began to shake and tremble, shock bleeding out the once defiance and disgust from her face. Lifting the weapon, he clicked off the safety. 

"I-Ichiro..."

"Undress. Now." Swallowing thickly, she at once began to unbutton her dress and hastily pulled it off, the whole of it now pooled at her feet. Letting his eyes roam her body, he lifted them to her own. 

"Panties off." He demanded, eyes cold and emotionless, his finger hugging the trigger. Taking a shaky breath, she slowly dropped equally shaky fingers and slipped the thin cotton underwear down her legs until it too met the crumpled dress. He didn't say a word as he neared and she reached behind her to grab the rim of the metal tub, fingers tightly gripping. 

"If I wanted to, I could make you do whatever I wanted." He spoke quietly, eyes staring down at her small trembling body. Golden brown, her skin looked soft. As though her very skin was not skin at all but silk. He'd tried his damndest to not look at her. But...he was a man. It couldn't be helped. Out of all the women he'd seen...Beatrice was the most peculiar. A small slim neck. Soft collarbones. Pliable round breasts, perfect in size proportionate to her willowy petite body. The way her honeyed skin seemed to melt into little hard points of brown fascinated him. No...fascinated wasn't quite the right word. It was a word that still seemed hard to believe. Hard to comprehend. But his throat tightened with it. His vision blurred with it. 

Down a smooth flat stomach, the curves of her hips though small flared out in a tempting display. As if to say their very design and that of her body was made and fit for every vile disgusting thought in the mind of man. Finding the bush of curls nestled in a thick patch on her triangle, he lifted his gaze to hers. She was braver than most. Others would have by now roamed their visage down his body just the same. 

"Ichiro," 

"Quiet." Swallowing, she kept her eyes on his as he drew closer, a single inhale of hers fanning against his chin as he leaned forward to press his mouth against her ear. 

"I could put the barrel of this gun against your head. Make you kneel." Lifting his free hand, he grabbed hold of her chin and made her look at him. 

"I could make you show me that tongue of yours. Put it to work." She closed her eyes now and he let go of her chin. 

"If I so chose, I could watch you suck my cock until I come all over your face. Wrap my hands around your pretty little throat and choke the life from you as I fuck you. I wouldn't be a horny dog then. I would be the very definition of a nightmare." Her breaths were shaky and her fingers gripped the tub behind them even tighter. 

"Don't forget that Beatrice. Ever." At once, he backed away from her, jaw tight. She couldn't meet his gaze now, her lips parted and mouth panting. 

"I'm not like one of your little songs." He had now clicked the safety on and put the gun back into his holster. Turning, he lifted a cigarette to his lips and struck a match. Blowing out the smoke, he licked his lips. 

"Now," Taking another long inhale, he snuffed out the lit part of the cigarette and put it back into his pack. 

"Get in the goddamn tub." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

snippet 2 

 

"Don't make me go back. Please." That caught his attention. In the time he'd known her, she never begged. Never pleaded. Lifting steely eyes, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

"You cannot stop going Bea."

"He's not....it's not what you think." Clenching his jaw, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils and reached for those trusty cigarettes. 

"Give me a reason." It seemed it was hard for her to speak then. He said not a word as he placed the stick of nicotine in between his lips. 

"He touches me." His chest burned at the statement. 

"He's a doctor. He's supposed to touch you." 

"No...not...not like that."

"Like what?" 

"You're not dumb or deaf. You know exactly what I mean." She hissed, annoyance and irritation flushing her features. 

"Show me where." 

"No." 

"Then you'll go as scheduled." He stood up and went to grab his hat when her hand suddenly gripped his. 

"Please.... Ichiro...." He was silent as he looked down at her who now had pressed her face against his shoulder. 

"He hurts me...he....he sticks objects...in...inside of me..." Letting go of his hat on the table, he lifted his hand to press against her hair. 

"How often?"

"Every time I go..." 

"Does he say anything to you?"

"...He told me that I was the perfect specimen. That....he hadn't seen anyone else like me...with my....features." 

"And?"

"He asked me if you and I were...having sex."

"What did you tell him?"

"Of course, I told him yes..." He remained quiet as she continued, 

"He told he that he wondered if you...satisfied me. Some weird sick nonsense about the size and diameter of my sex organs." Taking a shaky breath, she pulled away from him just enough to look up into his eyes. 

"He said the next time I came to him...he'd have a present for me."

"What kind of present?"

"He said he'd tie me to his bed, open my legs and inject a syringe full of semen into me." At that, his nostrils flared wide. 

"Normally he doesn't tell when he does. But he said that I was special...." He let his hand fall away from her hair and placed the cap on his head. 

"I'll visit him." Is all he said as he left her, locking the door behind him. 

*** 

The door had just closed. He stood at his desk, arranging surgical tools. 

"Busy?" Turning, he found Second Lt. Matsuda standing behind him, hands on his pockets. Laughing nervously, he shook his head no. 

"Most of my appointments were early this morning."

"Ah,"

"Though I am about to take a break. For lunch." Going over to the sink, he washed his hands and straightened the spectacles housed on the bridge of his nose. 

"How can I help you, Lt. Matsuda? It must be urgent for you to not make an appointment." 

"I wanted to know how she's doing." For a moment, the older man looked confused but then suddenly he understood. 

"Ah, your war bride." He didn't answer, simply watched as he continued speaking. 

"She's a beautiful one. I wonder where they found her."

"Shanghai."

"Oh?"

"You could say we have a previous history." The man grinned. 

"How lucky for you to have met her again hm?"

"If you look at it that way." 

"Yes, well..." He cleared his throat. 

"Number 7017. What a lovely specimen." The pitiful lump of flesh began to sweat, beads forming at his receding hairline as he seemed to reflect on something. 

"I would like to be frank in my findings with her. If I may?"

"By all means." Clearing his throat again, he went over to his desk and sat down. Papers rustled as he searched through manila files until 7-0-1-7 stared at him from across the room. 

"Beatrice Jones. 20 years of age. Origin is the United States of America. Five feet two inches. One hundred and five pounds."  More rustling of papers. 

"Race: Negroid. Skull diameter is 7.1. Average. Breast-waist-hip measurements 36-25-42. Considerably more hip-heavy than the others we have. I'd say more than ideal hips for birthing." 

"What of her internally?" The question seemed to cause a pale red blush to come to the doctor's cheeks as if he'd had sake. 

"Ah..yes internally...she's perfect in every way." 

"How so?" 

"The average male penis is roughly about four to five inches when erect. 7017 has a vaginal canal of six inches, which makes it perfect for a slightly larger than average member." Licking his lips, he lifted his eyes to his. 

"If you don't mind me asking Second Lt., how many inches are you when erect?" 

"Slightly more than six."

"Ah, very fortunate. Does the whole of your penis fit inside of her during sex?" 

"What business is that of yours?" 

"Ah, perhaps my questions are too personal. It is the researcher in me I'm afraid." He didn't say a word as he watched the man lift a handkerchief and dab at the sweat on his forehead. 

"When I perform my examinations on the toilets, I use this." Getting up, he held up a weird metal contraption, the shape of a duck's mouth. 

"It is called a speculum. It is inserted into the vagina and opens up the orifice an amazing 2 centimeters." Putting the device back onto the table, he smoothed back the balding hair at the top of his head. 

"Allow me to be frank. 7017 has quite the lovely pussy." At that, he took his hands out of his pockets. 

"The color of sakura petals in spring, looking at her makes me quite homesick. Her cervix is the shape of a smooth fleshy 'O' shape, amazingly it looks as though it has tiny puckered lips. As if thirsty and waiting for semen." 

"Waiting hm?"

"I'm sure you've ejaculated inside of her. I imagine those little lips opening to welcome your sperm inside. I want to see it in person." The man turned to look at him, his sick grin widening. 

"She must have thought of you this time. Her labia were soaked with female arousal. I couldn't help slipping a finger into her." His throat grew tight. 

"She tried not to like it but I felt how tight she squeezed my finger. Having her legs spread in front of me was a beautiful sight. The speculum slid right in and her walls opened so easily. I wondered what it would be like to fill her open cavern with liquids....water perhaps...sake even....maybe even milk. She's such a fascinating specimen. I enjoy experimenting on her." He said nothing still, his expression darkening. 

" I want to breed her...with your permission. Seeing her cavern filled with semen would be something I'd love to see. Even more than the protruding belly and heavy breasts full with milk." Breathing harshly, the man lifted shaky fingers up to his lab coat but they didn't make it there as he punched him hard in the jaw. A loud groan sounded in the room and as he turned his head again, he hit him again, harder than the first time, making him crash into his tray of instruments. 

"Fucking pig." He hissed, lifting him up by the collar. 

"Lt. please..." Grabbing a scalpel, he pressed it against the fat of the man's neck. 

"She's not a toy for you to play with." The man suddenly laughed. 

"Is she not? Did we not capture her for the sake of scientific discovery and progression?" 

"No." His voice was low and furious. 

"Was she not given to you for that purpose? How many men have their fun in our conquests, taking woman after woman. Gorging themselves on feminine flesh until they find themselves drunk from the pleasure of it all. How gracious Emperor Hirohito was to gift us our own personal harem. How he thinks of the welfare of his soldiers."

"Shut up." 

"She belongs to us all. Not just to you to fuck. She belongs to the Empire of Japan. Should she serve us well, she will live." Shoving him away from him, he tightened his grip on the scalpel and sliced his cheek, ignoring the whimpers and screams from him. 

"Today will be the last day you touch her with your filthy hands." Bloody, the man grinned. 

"If I don't heed your so-called warning?" Leaning down over him, he returned his grin with one of his own. 

"I'll cut off all of your fingers. Your toes. Nose and earlobes. Slice your shriveled cock in half and shove your testicles into your mouth." 

"If you still have your position. You forget your place. I know the higher-ups. All it will take is one conversation with your superior." 

"Fuck him." He growled against his ear. 

"There will be no one that can keep you from me. I promise you that." Grin now gone, the chilled emotionless gaze made the doctor's blood cold and he screamed and reached up to grab hold of his ear, a piece of his earlobe bloody and detached on the floor. 

"Just in case you still think about it." Lifting up, he tossed the scalpel away from him and cleared his throat. 

"I'm sure you have a line of patients now. Thanks for your time." Opening the door, he ignored the confused faces of his medical staff and headed back to his quarters. 

 

 

End Notes:

I MADE A TRAILER FOR ICHIRO AND BEA ON YOUTUBE. PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT AND GIVE IT SOME LOVE HEHE. 

My new youtube page is called NELLIEELLIECREATES hehe

I seek to have a strictly creative space for my trailers, teasers and other things hehe I hope you guys enjoy my creative works as I make and post them there hehe. 

Ichiro and Bea: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqfQOiOjAmA&t=57s

いち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

*throws this at you and runs away* 


 



ichi 


one

 

    “Jii-chan?” Old withered hands gripped the window ledge and distant clouded eyes looked out past the glass of the window into another world. 

    “Grandpa, are you hungry?” Not even her question could move him and she swallowed, glancing at the caregiver who appeared solemn. 

    “How long has he been like this Mere?” The caregiver, a sweet caring girl of 22, swallowed thickly. 

    “Mr. Matsuda has been talking about her again. All day.” Her. 

    “Grandma?” The younger woman nodded. Eyes glanced back towards the man who seemed unmovable from the window. 

    “It’s been like that since she passed away.” It had been 15 years since her grandmother had passed away. And ever since then… his health had been on the steady decline. 

    “He misses her terribly. In his sleep he talks to her. When he wakes, his eyes search for her.” Giving a small sad smile, she cleared her throat. 

    “Mere, why don’t you leave us alone for a bit? Has Grandpa’s clothes been washed and folded?” The girl blinked back tears and straightened up. 

    “No ma’am. I’ll-I’ll go do that now.”

    “Okay. I’ll see if I can convince him to lay back down.” 

    “Sure.” Meredith quietly exited the room, the soft click of the closed door the sign of her complete departure. Swallowing, she took a breath. 

    “Grandpa?” Still he hadn’t moved. 

    “Grandpa, maybe you should lie back down.” 

    “Who are you?” His voice that had once been smooth and clear now gritty and gravely. His diagnosis of Laryngeal cancer had only grown worse over the years and she knew he was in a lot of pain. He refused medication. He refused treatment of any kind. Rather, he was for some reason punishing himself silently. It hurt her to witness. 

    “It’s Asami-chan. Your granddaughter.” His hands which had been tight on the window sill loosened and palms fell flat against the cool surface. 

    “Ah…Asami. Have you went out to garden with Grandma yet?” Her fingers balled into fists and she couldn’t respond immediately. Mentally, he still viewed her as the energetic little girl she’d once been. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that now she was an adult. 

    “No not yet.” A short stiff grunt of a laugh came from him and it twisted her heart. 

    “That woman still rises so early in the morning to tend to her plants. Creature of habit.” Feeling her heart break, she slowly came closer. 

    “Grandpa…” Another gruff chuckle. Letting his hands fall from the sill, he slowly began to turn. Facing her, his small little smile fell away at once. She didn’t say a word as the cloudiness in his eyes began to clear up. He seemed to return to himself. The present self. Jaw tight, he blinked once or twice before glancing at her again. This time, recognition of her in her present self existed. His eyes drifted past her to the bed behind her. 

    “I suppose you’ve come to coax me to lie down.” Eat. Bathe. Change clothes. Accept treatme-

    “I’ve had enough of lying down.” 

    “Then what about a walk?” Jaw tight, his once gentle eyes lifted hard as stone. 

    “Ten minutes. Nothing more.” Smiling softly, she bowed her head slightly. 

    “Of course Grandpa. Whatever you would like.” Though the hardness in his eyes didn’t wan, the tightness in his jaw did and with a sigh it all fell flat. Outstretching his hand, he waited until she took hold of it. 

    “There is so much of her in you.” He said quietly, eyes on her face as she pulled him closer. 

    “That is why you’ve always been my favorite.” Coming to lean her head against his shoulder, she didn’t speak as they started to head towards the door. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip as they stepped into the pale sunlight of the day, lids closed to prevent the tears from escaping. 

 

*** 

 

    Her grandfather had never been a talkative man. He’d always been reserved. Cool. Observant. That’s what made the two of them so perfect for each other. Her grandmother was outgoing and headstrong. Outspoken too when the time called for it. She also knew when to reign it in and be silent when it too called for it. Full of elegance and refined poise, she was the real definition of femininity and grace. Where he was unmovable and upright, she seemed to bring down his walls and birth a softer, gentler man. Watching the two of them love was beautiful. The small little touches here. Soft smiles there. Quiet yet tender words. They had been like living breathing art. Unreal. Until…until it became very real. Until she had left before he did, leaving him without a soul. 

    She believed that was what triggered it. The cancer. The grief of losing her forced it to spread like a thick black sickness throughout his body. The man who once smiled and laughed so hard his eyes crinkled at the corners was gone. The one who grinned and smirked and teased…the one who had cradled her to his chest and read bedtime stories…all the while pressing sweet kisses against her forehead…that man had long since died. 

 

*** 

 

    It had been hours since he’d been asleep. She’d checked on him not too long ago before she headed towards his office. As a child, she had been forbidden to enter the room. All of the grandchildren were. The only person allowed past the glossy cherry doors was him. And of course…grandma. For years the curiosity of what lied behind them kept her awake. She’d always believed that the two of them were hiding something. 

    Lifting fingers to the door knobs, she grew still. He’d stay inside this room for hours on end and when he’d emerge from it he always looked different. Pained. Tormented. Even as a child, she’d seen it. And it troubled her. Stay in a child’s place she did until….until she didn’t have to anymore. No, she was no longer a child, fearful of disappointing them. She was a fully grown woman who needed answers. Swallowing, she pushed open the doors and stood still, taking in the surroundings. It appeared like a normal office. Thick bookshelves lined the walls and a singular matching cherry wood desk in the center of the room. Go. 

    Taking a tentative step inside, she swallowed thickly as she neared his desk. The room had not been occupied in years. Evidence of that was the dust that lined the chair, books and shelves. Turning eyes down, she simply glanced at what lied across the surface of the top of the desk. Books laid open, documents strewn about. Newspaper clippings and articles. Lifting fingers down, she carefully plucked one such up from underneath the dust. Dated 10th of December, 1937. The title read “Incredible Record in the Contest to Behead 100 People—Mukai 106 – 105 Noda”. She froze, chills dancing up her spine. Letting the article slathered in Japanese political rhetoric drift from her grasp, she saw yet another. Titled, “Nanking Terror— Chinese report on Atrocities”. Her chest felt heavy and her fingers began to shake. 

    They all knew that he had served in the war. They had all been told the story of how the two of them met and fell in love. They’d seen his medals and military accolades. Eyes drifting across the frantic mess before her, she felt her eyes tear up. How much of it was true? How much of it was a lie? Letting a shaky breath escape her mouth, she straightened up. Tears now slipping past her eyelids, she allowed them to freely as her eyes and fingers continued their search. The part of her that gave caution had been silenced and now she had let herself be under the direct influence of curiosity. She had to know the truth. Even…even if it tore her up inside. She had to know who he was. Who her grandmother had been. Stopping her pursuit, her eyes found what appeared to be a notebook. 

    Brushing off the dust hastily, she grabbed hold of it and lifted it. A picture of her grandmother met her eyes first. In a never before seen view. She stood amongst three other women. Young. Her feet were bare and she wore what appeared to be a cloth dress. Her hair had been tied back with a rag. Her eyes were empty and her body appeared tight and nervous. The three others appeared the same way, an expression of fear, anxiety and even a brave attempt at a smile. Under the photo a caption appeared and it made her stomach turn. Ianfu. Mukden. 1945. Taking another shaky breath, she slipped the picture away from the written words underneath. His writing was neat. Proper. Orderly. Just like him. 

 

 

    1937 

    Imperial Capital of Tokyo 

 

 

    It seems that they have done a good deed for our country. Mukai and Noda. They boast and brag upon their return. In the quarters they talk of their kills. Laughing and toasting over cheap sake, they detail the many men women and children they beheaded for sport. How many they shot dead or buried alive. They smirk as they share how many women they took advantage of. Mukai tells of one who bit him until blood drew. It turned him on he said. To see his own blood well up past the teeth marks stabbed into his skin. Because of that, he took to biting her back, biting harder and harder until his teeth went straight through, separating a piece of flesh from her cheek. Blood from her face proved copious but the harsh violent way he took her produced more. He grins as he tells of her screaming as she bled out, digging her nails into his face as he went for another bite, taking her entire her ear lobe. Spitting it onto the ground he spread her blood across his lips and I imagine the same grin he wears now to be the one he wore then as he proceeded to beat and strangle her. Once she had grown unconscious, he brags of cutting off her nipples and slicing her neck. Noda asks if he fucked her one more time before setting her on fire. To which he replied yes. Still warm and wet, her abused swollen hole provided no fight to his shaft now and he pleasured himself greatly inside her bloody mutilated corpse. 

 

The words beneath her turned her stomach and she felt herself retch. Dear God….

 

 

    They did what is best for our great country. So my commander says. So my father would say. But I wonder… Why did I feel my stomach toss and turn like the sea? Why did I having been told that the Chinese are rats to be exterminated feel complete and utter disgust at what was told to me?  Am I not a proud son of the Sun? Am I not a great soldier for the greatest Empire on the earth?

 

 

    The journal was left where it was and feet rushed out of the room, door left ajar as she tried to make it to the nearest bathroom before she vomit all over herself. When her stomach stopped heaving, she began to sob, pressing her face against the bowl of the toilet. Now it made sense. Now she knew why he had forbidden her to step past those doors. Now she knew why neither one of them spoke of their past…not in great detail anyway. Now she understood…why he refused any kind of treatment. In that journal he spoke of his deepest darkest secrets. His darkest sins that only God and his wife had known about. Refusing treatment…suffering this while was his way of trying to atone. His own form of repentance. 

    Lifting up, she wiped her eyes and remained on the floor. As much as it would change her… she…she needed to read it. She needed to know who her grandfather was. She needed to know who her grandmother was. In an attempt to understand…to carry on his story…their story. What legacy they had tried to leave…she wanted to know it all. She was indeed too much like her grandmother for her own good. 

 

End Notes:

A/N: Sooooo I want y'all to know that I meant what I said LOL. about this being started next year LOL. But my fingers and my mind said aye give em a chapter lol. give em a lil snippety snip LOL Ichiro and Bea were on my mind (have been there for days actually) so I just kinda... had to write something lol. This beginning chapter is grim and dark. As will the rest of the story be. It's not your average war romance story lol.

 This is going to take a lot out of me. Just writing this chapter I grew drained LOL. The research is.... it's harrowing. Horrifying. What I am about to embark on is something gritty. REAL. Beautiful. I will need my energy to do so. This original story is based off of a REAL PART OF HISTORY AND THAT HAS BEEN PURPOSEFULLY IGNORED. The tale of comfort women is one that has until recent years been intentionally forgotten. 

Noda and Mukai were real Japanese soldiers who did in fact bet on how many innocent men women and children they could behead. It to them was a competition. They murdered and raped for enjoyment. The title in the story is the real title of the original newspaper liner). I can only hope that they at some point in their lives while they were on earth felt regret and repented. 

Like Mukai and Noda, Ichiro is a product of his environment. And as we see even in this introductionary journal entry... he's already starting to question his upbringing...everything he's been told. By the time he meets Bea...he's so conflicted and confused by it all. I hope you guys like this small little bit so far. Buckle up your seat belts cause it's gonna be a beautiful tragic ugly nasty messy ride~ 

Love y'all. 

God bless y'all 

DL~

 

 

に by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


 


Ni 


(two) 

 

Some days were better than others. Most times than not the pain felt like a knife being shoved down into his throat. Some days were better to talk. Others he found himself completely incapable. Too many damn cigarettes. At least, that is what the doctor told him. Pain slicing through him at a simple swallow, he leaned back into his chair. 

    “Mr. Matsuda?” Turning his head slightly, he lifted a hand to wave, beckoning the voice to approach. The caregiver Meredith came forward, leaning forward in a slight bow. Lifting his eyes to her, he sighed again. Her presence meant that it was time to do either one of two things. Eat. Or see his dementia specialist. 

    “Mr. Ito is here for your appointment.” The latter. Pursing his lips, he gave a curt nod and allowed her to help him up. Silent, the girl helped him enter the house. The kind young man stood at the entrance and upon seeing him bowed low. 

    “Mr. Matsuda.”

    “Where are we to talk today?” He asked in Japanese, lips in a firm line. 

    “Wherever you like.” He gave another nod and headed for his office. He hadn’t been there in years. The past tormented him in dreams and night sweats. Since Beatrice’s passing, the nightmares had all but suffocated him and he could not stomach going there. But, this day…he wanted to show the young Ito who he really was. Opening the door, he stepped inside leaving the door ajar. The poor man looked like a deer in headlights and the urge to pick at him licked his conscious. He said nothing as he stepped into the room, allowing the door to be closed. 

    “I thought here would be a good place.” He began, letting his eyes roam the mess on the large oak desk. 

    “You’ve never gotten to know me in detail. Should you want to know more about my dementia, here is the start.” His throat grew tight almost as if it was trying to close up on itself and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nostrils. Today was a day it nearly killed him to speak. The pain was unbearable.

    “Mr. Matsuda…your file says that you were in the military.” Tightening his grip on his cane, he took a few unsteady steps towards the desk, dust covering what was on top like a thick film. Lowering his hand, he fished through the mess before he found it. Lifting the aged sepia photograph, he handed it to the younger man. 

    “I was 18 years old in this picture. I was extremely green and all too eager.”  Taking the photo, he watched as he looked at it. A gruff little laugh disturbed his gaze and they lifted to the sour-faced old man. 

    “Like everyone else at the time, I wanted to be a ‘good Japanese citizen’. I wanted to be the pride of my family.” Ito swallowed thickly, looking down from his aged wrinkled face to his much smoother, fuller, and child-like face in the picture. 

 

 

 

*** 

 

1936 

Kurashiki Prefecture 

Okayama 

 

    Hands still so graceful and light lifted the cup from the bowl of freshly prepared rice. Lips smiled sweetly and tender eyes watered. Slowly, her knees lowered to the tatami and those watery orbs watched as he ate. 

    “You look just like your father.” He didn’t reply but his chest filled with pride at the compliment. 

    “My handsome Ikki-chan.” Lifting those delicate fingers, she brushed back his short hair, freshly cut. He put down his hashi and smiled at her in return. 

    “I want to make Father’s memory proud. You too Mother.” 

    “You already have. I feel safe knowing that you will be protecting me from afar.” Her touch left his hair and she watched as he took his time, eating breakfast until it was all gone. They both knew that it would be a long time before he tasted it again. 

    “When do you leave?”

    “As soon as I’m finished.” She nodded and the waft of her sweet fragrance wafted across his nose as she got up. In the time it took her to come back, he was already finished, hashi neat and plates clean. He stood by the door, kneeling to put on his boots, fresh from the shoemaker. Leaning up, he turned to find his mother, holding something wrapped in pretty fabric. 

    “I want you to have this, Ikki. When you get homesick, please remember it well.” Outstretching his hands, he grabbed it and quietly opened it. A small vignette of the three of them as a family looked back at him and he felt his heart flutter. 

    “Father would be very proud of you. Please know that.” Bowing his head, he pressed it against him tightly. 

    “Write me when you can Ikki. I look forward to your letters of our victories.” 

    “Yes, Mother.” Standing, he carefully tucked the small package into his uniform pocket and saluted her. Giving him a firm nod, she bowed in return, until his footsteps faded from the door’s pathway. 

 

*** 

 

    “Soon after leaving my mother, I was met with other soldiers like me. Some were younger than we were. I believe a few were 13 or 14.” Ito handed him back the photo which he accepted.  

    “We were greeted by our commanding officer and paired to bunks. “‘The body beside you,’” he said, “‘ ..will be your comrade. He will be the guard of your life and you his. For this great country, we all will gladly lay down our lives.”’  We repeated his mindless words, all of us ignorant to that lay ahead.”

    “What did lie ahead, Mr. Matsuda?” 

    “Nanking.” With a solemn sigh, the young man came closer finally, after standing at the door as if the room would close up on him. Perhaps the longer he dwelled, it would. 

    “This office holds many secrets.  Things only my wife knew about. Some of them she didn’t.” 

    “Did remembering things grow worse when she passed?” Twisting up his lips, he let a hand move the thick dust off of a leather-bound book.

    “No. Forgetting them did.”  Old arthritic hands opened the book, eyes settling on pictures. 

    “Do you believe monsters deserve love, Ito?” 

    “Monsters, sir?” 

    “Yes. Monsters.”  The younger man bit the inside of his cheek. 

    “Take a look around. I will be in the sitting room.” Eyes watched the old man make his way to the door and soon, it was shut behind him. He couldn’t quite describe it… the feeling in this space. It seemed to fray his nerves and cause uneasiness to settle in his stomach. 

    “What is his purpose for this?” He asked himself quietly, taking another glance around the room. A stately grandfather clock sat nearest the desk and the quiet ‘tick, tok’ somehow calmed him as he gathered the courage to approach the desk. Do monsters deserve love? What kind of question was that? As he roamed the thick dusty documents and partially covered books, his eyes found the one Mr. Matsuda had opened. Eyes finding what he’d walked away from, suddenly he felt chills slip down his body. 

 

    Date: 1938  

    Nanjing 

    A gift for you Mother, and Japan

    

    There stood a young Matsuda with a stoic look on his face, with two other soldiers. In his hands, he held up a decapitated head, the remaining corpse underneath him, one of his feet stepping on the chest cavity. He lifted shaking fingers and peeled the plastic page, finding another gruesome picture of him posing with two small tied-up children while another soldier appeared to be preparing to stab them with a bayonet. 

    Recoiling, he felt breakfast come up his throat and barely swallowed it back down. His entire arm was shaking now and his horrified eyes swirled around the room. Turning them towards the door, he quickly hurried to make his escape, the room itself seeming to close in around him. Breath harsh and sweat now providing a thin sheen to his peachy skin tone, his eyes grew watery as he watched the old man sitting in an enclosed sitting room. 

    “Did you ponder my question, Ito?” Trying to get a hold of himself, he inhaled sharply through his nostrils and forced himself to approach him, his body wanting to get far away from him. 

    “It depends on if the monster is repentant.” He answered, throat dry. A gruff gritty chuckle, if it could be called that, filled the space and interested aged eyes met his own as he came to sit beside him. 

    “Repentant, hm? You sound like one of those preachers.” He left the question unanswered, trying to find some sort of footing. Surely, he did that to shake him up. It did more than that. 

    “You have a lot that you want to forget. Clearly.”

    “And?”

    “And what?”

    “Do you think I deserved life? After everything I did?”

    “I can’t answer that.”

    “You have opinions about what you saw.” Again, left unanswered. 

    “I’m far from some decrepit old man in need of his ass being wiped. That you know now.” He glanced at Mr. Matsuda, finding him looking ahead of him, out into the deep thick of the forest.  

    “Now you know where my dementia originated.” 

    “Yes, sir.”

    “You know who I am… who I was.”

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Now that we have an understanding, ask your silly questions.” 

 

***

 

     By the time she got home, Mere was coming down the stairs. Smiling, she set her purse by the door and removed her shoes. 

    “How has today been?” 

    “Well, I’ve been cleaning most of the day. Mr. Matsuda’s room and around the house.”

    “Where’s he been?”

    “He’s in the sitting room with Mr. Ito.” Nodding, she allowed Mere to take her coat. 

    “Has Grandpa eaten today?”

    “Not much. He’s been refusing everything but tea.” 

    “He never likes to eat.” 

    “He’s been talking to Mr. Ito the entire day so… I’m sure by now he’s worked up an appetite.”

    “Sure,” Sighing, she watched the young woman hang up her coat. 

    “Isn’t your birthday coming up Mere?”

    “Yep.”

    “I thought so. We’ll have to do something nice for you.” The young woman blushed but nodded.    

    “You don’t have to.”

    “After all you do for Grandpa and me, it’s the least I could do.” Smiling, she shook her head in a small dismissal. 

    “I’ll fix you a snack, Sami.”

    “Fix yourself one too. We’ll eat it on the porch.” 

    “Okay.” Fondly watching the woman head into the kitchen, she took a small breath and started her way towards the sitting room. She heard the voices of Grandpa and Mr. Ito talking quietly. Though he wouldn’t admit it, she think he liked Ito. Perhaps he reminded him of a younger him… a more ambitious him. 

    “Knock, knock.” She gently interrupted with a small little rasp against the cracked door. 

    “Ms. Asami…” Smiling, she gave a small nod. 

    “Is Jii-chan behaving today?” 

    “I’m not a child.”

    “You know you aren’t always nice to Mr. Ito.”

    “Today, he was. I got to know him very well.”

    “Well, that’s good. I’m glad you kept him company.”

    “Mr. Matsuda, I’ll visit again soon.” A wave of the hand in dismissal was all he got and he stood up, his expression complicated. It was a mixture of so many emotions. Fear. Anger. Interest and insight. 

    “Ms. Asami, I’ll see you next week.”

    “Sure. Do you need me to show you out?”

    “No, thanks.” Curiously, she turned her eyes back towards the reclining man whose feet were up on a cushion. 

    “Why do I feel like you two talked about life or something?” 

    “You could say that we did.” 

    “Hm. Jii-chan, are you going to eat dinner with me tonight?”

    “I suppose so.” 

    “What would you like?” 

    “Kakioko.” Her eyebrows shot up. 

    “Are you sure?”

    “I’ve developed a craving for it today.” 

    “Okayyy then…Kakioko it is.” Helping him stand, she could hear the strained grunts of pain as he walked and looked down at his prosthetic limb. He normally didn’t have any trouble moving with it after so many years but for some reason, she could tell that today his leg was bothering him.  She’d always been curious as to how he’d lost his leg in the war… that being a story he’d never shared with her or the other grandchildren.

    “Where did you go today?” He asked as they began to walk into the hallway. 

    “I went to visit Grandma.” It was amazing how even after all this time, the mere mention of her seemed to transform him. His once hard stiff expression melted into a look reminiscent of how she remembered him. He smiled gently, eyes softer…humored. Miraculously, his voice gravely and coarse now clear. 

    “That woman.” He clicked his tongue as if to chastise. 

    “I told her not to go to the beach alone. But, does she ever listen to me?” Licking her lips, she replied carefully, 

    “What did she do, Grandpa?” There, her voice was girlish and light, a comfort and caress to the past that he seemed in his heart to cherish. He laughed some, a quick short little grunt.

    “She came back with sand everywhere. It looked like she had laid down and rolled around in it. It was in her hair. Her clothes. Bea was so hardheaded.” Glancing up at him, she felt her eyes water as the memories of her transported him back to a happier place. 

    “You get your stubbornness from her, you know.” 

    “Mm.” 

    “Mm.” He teased back, bringing a laugh to her. Though she laughed, tears began to rise and she blinked them back as she led him into the kitchen. 

 

***

 

 

    She couldn’t say she completely regretted it; having spent the last three hours in that room. But now that grandpa was in bed and the house was silent, she was pretty close to saying she did. It had been weeks since she’d ventured towards his office. Curiosity, though, had led her back towards those large looming doors. Doors shrouded in mystery. Now, however, they provided a grim reality… a portal to the past that some would say should best be forgotten. Licking her lips, she buried her hands in her palms her eyes watery. It didn’t sit right with her that the urge to delve deeper picked at her. What if I’m not ready to uncover this? She got up and turned on the shower with a heavy sigh, soon undressing to step in.

    The water gently pelted her body and she let the hot rivulets run across her face, neck, and arms. It was nauseating. It was obvious that he and Mr. Ito had been there. More dust had been brushed off of the many aged books and papers on his desk. One such book had been opened. Pictures. Images that made her throw up. She couldn’t hold it in and rushed to the bathroom much like she did the first time she’d entered that room. 

    Wet fingers combed through her drenched hair. It was so hard to believe… so hard to force herself to see a man whom she didn't recognize. Everything in her screamed that he was a fraud. That he wasn’t her grandpa. It couldn’t be. To confirm her deepest darkest fears, however, she’d gotten her hand on a small stack of letters, some pulled apart from the bundling. Letters to his mother. They proved otherwise. 

 

*** 

 

 

1939 

    Location: Confidential 

 

    Dear Mother,

     I thought of you today. As of late, sakura petals fall in my mind’s eye and I cannot help but want to return home immediately. I am in good health. Forgive me for not writing before now. We were stationed in a city called Nanjing. In a filthy place of squalor, rats ran amuck. Not to be concerned, all that was needed was a little fire and force and they scattered. Do you fare well? How is grandmother? My wish is that once I return home in victory, we can eat cold melon in the summer as we used to do with Father. 

 

    Ikki 

 

*** 

 

    She wondered if his mother had any clue. Any such idea that the ‘rats’ he spoke of so casually were indeed human beings. Human beings that were shown in pictures being thrown into pits and dirt shoveled on them. One soldier had been photographed lifting an infant to the camera, the whole of their tiny body impaled on the entire end of his bayonet. Fresh and sudden it appeared, the fingers of the baby still spread as if to grasp and claw at the air.

     Letting her eyes fill with tears, she wept quietly, the heat from the water serving to close around her like a warm comforting hug. 

 

*** 

 

1939 

Location: Undisclosed 

With a roasted pig

 

    A pig was not in the picture. Instead, the charred remains of a human being had been photographed, tied to a pole. Eyes took in the face of her grandpa and his platoon, some of them grinning and humored. Others smug. What frightened her the most was the expression on her grandfather’s face. It was neither smug nor humored. It was blank. Empty. Cold. Stoic. His lifeless eyes stared back at her, a jarring contrast to the youthful shreds of fat still in his cheeks. 

 

*** 

 

    It was at that moment that she could no longer stay in that room. She did pick up his diary, there a little bit aways from the unnamed album, and left the room, sweaty hands closing the doors behind her. She feared that if she didn’t read it and find out the origin, his origin, she’d never be the same around him again.

    Already, she had begun to question how her grandmother could marry someone like him. A monster like him. The thought made her weep even harder… and a bit of her felt ashamed to even let the words caress her mind. Sniffling, she reached up and turned the water off. Lifting wet fingers to her equally wet cheeks, she wiped the tears away and got out. Her first night discovering who Ichiro Matsuda was would begin tonight. God help her, she was scared. 

    After doing her night routine of smoothing shea butter into her skin and putting on comfy pajamas, she curled up in bed and reached for the beat-up diary with a shaky hand. Turning to page one, she swallowed sand. 

 

***

    My name is Ichiro Matsuda. My hands are stained with blood and I seek atonement.

End Notes:

A/N: Hi. Hello my loves! First, allow me to thank you all for being patient with me while waiting for this story to begin. I have had obligations that have preceded the start of this work and appreciate you all waiting! Secondly, I didn't want to start (though I wanted to several times before) in a rush. I knew this story would take a lot out of me to write and knew that when I started writing that I would have to be in a particular headspace for that. 

This chapter has started off really rough for me. When looking up images and researching, it took me a minute and even after a minute, my brain still couldn't comprehend the gruesome brutality of what I was looking at. The fact that I was looking at real human beings being murdered messed with me. Whew. Yeah. So here's the second chapter. What are your thoughts thus far? I've got two more chapters or episodes as I call em hehe for y'all. I hope this has been well worth the wait  <3 

DL~

** Kakioko is a dish regional to Kurashiki hehe* 

さん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


san 


(three)

    Finally, the racket had died down. It was loud enough that he couldn’t get any sleep. The heat of the night flushed him with sweat and he quietly turned to lay on his side. Eyes remained closed as the door to the dormitory opened and in stepped Takahashi.  

    “Wake up. I know you’re not sleeping.”  Scowling, he proved his point and opened them, casting an annoyed glare upward. 

    “How could I sleep with all that fucking noise?” The cheeky son of a bitch grinned. 

    “Somebody liked it.” He knew what he was referring to. It was plainly obvious that his nether regions had pitched a slight tent at the noise.

    “When’s the last time you got laid Matsuda?” 

    “None of your business.” Takahashi snickered and crawled to lay in the bed next to him. 

    “You’re unbelievably tense, soldier. A pretty woman would definitely solve all of that.” 

    “Fuck you.” Takahashi chuckled and snuggled down underneath the thin blanket. 

    “Last I remember, you got laid in Nanjing. One of those pigs broke your family picture I think right?” He didn’t answer him, his hands starting to form fists. 

    “I always took you for being the soft type. Always quiet. But that day, you really made us all proud.” 

    “Takahashi,”

    “You got so pissed that you lifted your pistol and shot her brother in the head.”

    “It was her brother?”

    “Lucky for you, I know some Chinese. She kept begging you not to shoot him but you did it anyway. Serves her right.”

    “Hm.”

    “And as if that wasn’t enough, you got good enough practice with your bayonet on the father and mother didn’t you?” Sighing, he glanced over to see Takahashi propped up on his elbow, grinning. 

    “I didn’t think you had enough balls to help yourself to her but you did, right there on the side of the road next to her mother’s blown-out brains. I knew you had it in you.” 

    “Stop fucking talking and go to sleep.” That was the end of the conversation and Takahashi’s laughter pissed him off even more. He didn’t need any reminders. He knew what he’d done. The bitch had no right destroying something so precious to him. So, he paid her what was owed to her. Inhaling and exhaling through his nose, he calmed himself. In the new refreshing quiet, he fell asleep. 

 

 

 

 

    

 

*** 

 

    The year was 1943. My platoon had been stationed in Shanghai for two years. During that time, I’d been at base studying and performing minor duties. A part of me wanted to be back in the middle of the action as we had been in Nanjing. A large part of me enjoyed it. The thrill. The rush. The adrenaline. I began to understand just what Mukai and Noda had referred to back when I was just an inexperienced cadet. Even so, even still…the nagging tear at my heart distracted my focus. 

    This persistent tug-of-war between what I’d always known…and what seemed right and wrong. I felt like I was betraying my country….my Emperor… my Father. What we did for Japan was always right. Regardless of what it was. If by our behavior we wanted to bring a positive change to the advancement of our motherland, what then could be wrong?

 

***

 

    “What about those ones?” Eyes looked out to see young girls laughing down the road from them. 

    “What about them?”

    “Should we fuck them?”

    “You would fuck an electrical socket wouldn’t you?” He retorted with a firm frown. 

    “If it felt good then yeah.”

    “Unbelievable.” 

    “Takahashi. Matsuda. Return to base.” Saluting their superior, they gathered the small bunch of them that had been assigned to stand post and got into the truck. 

    “It’s a pity we have to leave. I wanted the one with the short hair.”

    “You act like we’re in chains, Yamanouchi.” Takahashi grinned. 

    “This is our city which means we can do whatever the hell we want to.”

    “But, if our Sargeant-”

    “Fuck him. He’s a stuffy fat fart who doesn’t know when he shits.” Lifting his arm, he wrapped it around his neck and yanked him against him. 

    “When we’re done, we’ll come back and you can have her.” Yamanouchi mirrored his grin. He, however, just turned his gaze towards the window, watching the trees, moving forms of humans, women’s coats, and men’s suits. He’d grown tired of the same shit. When he’d left his mother at 18, he hadn’t left her to be babysat by a by-the-books Sargeant. He’d had enough education. 

    Two years in, he’d learned very well how to shoot a rifle, a pistol and how to load and unload a machine gun. He’d gotten first-hand experience holding a katana. The significance of it, the feeling of it, the connection to it was something one could not and did not acquire in the classroom.

    “Hey, Matsuda.” Letting a bored glare leave the window his eyes met Takahashi. 

    “I dare you.”

    “To do what?”

    “Have fun for once. Get out there and explore what it means to be young and free. Don’t come back until you do.”He scoffed and turned his eyes away but the annoying bastard kept right on talking, as if he hadn’t dismissed him. 

    “Oriental Pearl Lounge. There’s all kinds of pretty things in there, hm?” He winked. 

 

*** 

 

    He was annoying. Takahashi. He didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Couldn’t seem to catch a hint. Perhaps, this war to him was just a reason to fuck until his dick came off. After all, every one of us had our reasons for joining. More than the hatred for his incessant blabbering, I hated, even more, the curiosity that gnawed at my stomach. The nudge that seemed to say, it’s all right. Explore. Have fun. The world is yours to have.

     My father was an extremely disciplined man. The memories I have of him are best described as being a drill sergeant. From the time I was old enough to walk, I underwent an intense militaristic upbringing. Weakness wasn’t in my blood. Matters of the flesh were nothing but a distraction. And yet, I found myself succumbing to one such moment of weakness…days after I had tried to resist. 

 

*** 

 

1943 

Oriental Pearl Lounge and Bar 

 

    The sounds of jazz filled the small club and the sweet smell of cigar smoke created a thick white fog. The musicians played on, lost in the moment it seemed. Eyes took in the surroundings and he swallowed thickly. He’d never been to a place like this before and every hair on his body stood up at the strange environment. The music was foreign yet strangely comforting. It seemed to electrify him from the inside out and set his very blood on fire. Heading to the bar, he removed his uniform hat and ordered a Russian vodka in clipped nervous English. Another suggestion from Takahashi. When you go out, order a Russian vodka. It’ll make your balls grow even more hair. Lifting the drink to his nose. Interesting. Straight alcohol. No hints of anything else. So deceiving it appeared as smooth and clear as water. Almost like sake with a much more pungent smell.

    “Ladies and Gentleman, give a warm welcome to our next performer. She’s a modest little thing but can sing like a canary. Miss Beatrice Jones!” Feeling the heat from the drink slip into his bloodstream, he turned as a woman stepped out on stage. Lifting the glass to his mouth he took another sip. As she turned towards the crowd and gave a soft smile, he choked feeling the burn of it brutally set his throat on fire. Coughing, he swallowed the pain and burn. 

    “My name is Beatrice. I was born in the States but I’ve lived here in Shanghai for the last ten years. If you don’t mind, I’d like to share a bit of home with you.” Her Mandarin was delicately favored with the Wu accent. He took another sip, eyes focused on her in her entirety. A soft piano began to play. The lights from above shined on golden-brown skin. Like coffee that had cream in it, it was a rich tawny color.

    “It’s not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me. Oh no… it’s just the nearness of you…”  Small shapely lips smiled as a horn accompanied the piano. 

    “It isn’t your sweet conversation that brings this sensation. Oh no….it’s just the nearness of you…” Her face was small and heart shaped, her nose a delicate button. Enticing almond-shaped eyes. She was petite both in frame and height yet undeniable femininity caressed her. Seemed to invoke slow careful breaths from him…from every man there. Modestly dressed in a tasteful yet form-fitting dress, long beige sleeves covered her arms and square shoulders shaped her own.

     Outlining her slender waist and hips, the smallest peek of her slim dainty legs seemed to tease. A large plucked feather served as the singular decoration on her, plush and elegant. Her hair was uncovered, pulled away from her face in large tucked pin curls. She began to sway side to side as the vibrations took hold of her… of them all. She closed her eyes and allowed the music to move her, a sweet soulful voice filling the room with crystal clear melody. Completely enraptured, he couldn’t move or breathe for that matter until she had finished her song roaring applause accompanying her departure from the stage. 

    “You alright?” A sharp clap to his back jolted him and he tore his eyes away from the ethereal beauty of the woman. Lifting a hand to his neck, he cleared his throat. 

    “Yes. Ah…” The man smirked and nodded his head back towards the stage. 

    “She’s a beautiful girl huh?” He didn’t answer. Both men were quiet as the band began to play a slow calm tune.

    “First time here?” His next drink recommendation was a gin and tonic and he ordered it, tightening his jaw at the grinning man. The man somehow irritated him though he was a stranger. He reminded him of Takahashi. 

    “Yes. It will be my last time here.” The man laughed suddenly, a barking gruff laugh signaling the use of a long-term smoking habit. 

    “If you’re worried about finding that woman attractive don’t. In here those matters melt away with the music.” Clenching his jaw, he slid annoyed eyes towards the man and made quick work of his drink. Reaching into his pockets, he paid the tab and stood. 

    “I’m not attracted to her.” That damn grin remained on the man’s face as he watched him grab his coat and hat. 

    “They all say that at first. Somehow they manage to always find themselves here searching for the ones they said they didn’t want. Soldier or civilian. Japanese or Chinese. It doesn’t matter. Beauty is beauty and it was meant to be appreciated.” He slipped into his coat and placed his cap upon his head. With a stiff bow of the head, he made his exit from the cozy atmosphere of the lounge. And try as he might he couldn’t stop himself from hearing the sweet soft melody of her voice in his mind as he made it back to his barracks. 

 

*** 

 

    Ikki, 

    How are you faring, my son? Are you healthy? Are you eating enough? Are you on the battlefield? My thoughts and days are consumed with you. I miss you and I cannot wait until you are home. Grandmother is doing fine. Her knees are aching her a bit more nowadays but a trip to the hot springs will clear it up. I am also well. Just missing my son. You make me so proud Ikki. Write to me soon. 

 

Mother 

 

*** 

 

    When I got back to the barracks, words couldn’t place how I felt. Hot. Cold. Warm. Feverish. Muddled. My skin felt hot to the touch. I felt as though I had swallowed a lump of scorching coal. Drunk. In my haste to undress, for some reason, in my hazy brain, I could not stop thinking about the woman. Gasping, I pushed back my comrades and hurried to the bathing quarters. 

    Cool water jet against my heated flesh and I submerged my hair and face under the pleasant pressure and weight. Fragments of lips smiling and singing, the seductive soulfulness in her soprano, the way she caressed the words, the melody….It didn’t register to me at first that I’d begun touching myself, the way the light enhanced the gold tones in her skin and her hips swaying had me lost. Somehow, the notes of melody clear and crystal in my ears somehow morphed into tantalizing hypnotic moans.

     The images turned into moving pictures, my innermost desire at that moment to pull her from the stage, lift her dress and bury my length inside her choked my breath. I couldn’t let go until another form of light entered my body and I let the remnants of my alcohol-induced frailty slip down the drain. Breathing heavily, I lifted my hand from below my hips and to the titled wall, staying until the water turned cold freezing the weakness in my body completely.

End Notes:

A/N: YEAHHHHHH THIS WAS ROUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Whew lawd. What I like is that we are getting to know Ichiro more than what lies on the surface. He's so much more than just a picture hehe. Man, he's perhaps the most complex character I've written yet?? Definitely a challenge hehe. There are so many things I could say about this chapter but I'd rather YOU guys tell ME what you pick out from here hehe. One last update for now! 

DL~

 

よん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


yon


(four)

 

    It had been weeks since I’d gone to the Oriental Pearl club. Try as I might to forget the woman and her song, it had me in a chokehold and I’d simply had enough. Never let a woman have power over you, Ichiro. It’s unnatural. The words of my father ran like a broken record over and over again until I found myself standing outside of the club that night. 

 

*** 

 

    “They don’t open for another ten minutes.” Stiff, he turned to see the nuisance that had disturbed his concentration. Blinking in disbelief, he couldn’t will his mouth to open. There she was standing in front of him, her gaze bold as she looked at him. At his lack of response, she crossed her arms. 

    “Do you understand English?”

    “Do you understand Japanese?” He retorted, jaw tight. Her eyebrows lifted and she cleared her throat. 

    “I haven’t seen you before. You’re new.” He felt his throat grow tight. Her voice was purely musical and it baffled him how she sounded like she was singing just from talking. There next to her was a man who shared a deeper shade of her color and his eyes weren’t as friendly or curious. 

    “Don’t talk to him Bea. Entertaining them is one thing. Talking to them is another thing. We don’t want no trouble while we here.” Head down and face hidden underneath his uniform hat, his eyes found the tops of her black heels. The delicate swish of a startling emerald green dress that he was sure contrasted aesthetically against her skin tone.

    She didn’t speak anymore and he was glad of it, both soon joined by a line of eager clubgoers ready to drink and dance. When the door finally opened, the mass exodus of people flooded in, soldiers and civilians alike. Some he recognized from his own platoon and others he didn’t. It was so peculiar to see varying shades, colors, and stations gathering in this one place of booze and illicit behavior. 

    “You’re here.” A heavy hand slapped him on the back and he snarled up his mouth at the recognizable laughter that crept up his spine like a snake. Takahashi. 

    “I thought you’d like this place.”

    “Get your hand off of me.”

    “Geez, take a chill pill. We’re both here for the same thing right?”

    “I’m going back to the barracks.” As he turned around, he was stopped by a yank on his uniform jacket. 

    “That Negro girl. You like her don’t you?” He shoved his hand away from him and he finally withdrew, lifting his hands in surrender. 

    “Calm the hell down, Matsuda. I’m just asking a question.” 

    “As you remind me all the time, liking and fucking are two different things, right?” There, that grin was back, and careful not to touch him this time, he sighed happily as the two of them headed towards the bar. 

    “You impress me more and more. You’re a hard book to read but full of surprises.” 

    “Vodka. Rocks.” He said quietly to the bartender and removed his cap. Running fingers through his growing hair, he sighed. 

    “I never took you for wanting to experiment with something so… unconventional.” 

    “You don’t take me for a lot of things Takahashi. That’s your mistake.” Gladly accepting the drink, he let the liquid fire consume him. 

    “Guess so huh?” Not a drinker it was obvious that within the first couple sips of the potent alcohol, he was drunk. 

    “I can’t focus on my drills because of her.” He drawled, asking for another shot. 

    “Your body picks whom it wants Matsuda. Stop trying to figure it out.” He snorted in dismissal and tossed the shot back. 

    “You came here to check out the American girls right?”

    “Hell fucking yeah. Get me a girl who looks like Betty Bacall and I’ll be a happy man.”     

    “Whatever,” Quiet, the two men sat drinking until the announcer gathered everyone’s attention. 

    “Let’s give a warm welcome to our pretty little songbird tonight as she serenades us again, give it up for Beatrice Jones!” The band began to play a gentle tune and she stepped forth as the spotlight shined on her, drawing all the attention towards her. 

    “Before I sing this tune, I want to welcome all the newcomers tonight. Soldier and regular. In here, we let all that outside stuff go right?” The crowd replied with a healthy rumble. She smiled, her teeth resembling pearls and lifted slim fingers to grab the microphone. 

    “It doesn’t matter what the color of skin is or where you come from. Long as the music is good and feels good, life for a while will be all right.” Her sparkling eyes drifted across the faces as the horns began to pick up tempo. 

    “My days have grown so lonely. For you I cry.”  Her voice carried graceful seduction, a swift departure from her last performance. Now that he was looking at her more clearly, the outline of her body in the form-fitting dress only made his mouth water even more with a thirst the vodka couldn't quench. 

    “For you, dear, only. Why haven’t you seen it?” Tossing back a shot of vodka, he almost choked on it as her eyes met his. She let her hand slip down the stand. 

    “I’m all for you, body and soul…” 

    “Oh shit.” Takahashi breathed as she smiled demurely at him before leaving their gaze. 

    “Magnetic isn’t she?” Both of them turned to see the old man from the first visit, nursing what looked like whiskey. 

    “Every man in here wants that one. Join the long line of suitors.”

    “I see why. She’s…”

    “She plays well off of her innocent looks. A woman like that is dangerous.” Licking his lips, he sat back against the bar and slipped hands through his hair. The heat from the lights, the bodies, and the booze had their uniforms sticking to them.  

    “Word is that she’s never been with a man let alone kissed one.” 

    “An untouched virgin who plays with the hearts of men. What a bad girl.” Takahashi said with a grin as she swayed to and fro. 

    “Her brother is her manager they say. She’s a hard girl to get close to.” Takahashi glanced over at him but he was quiet, gaze intensely set on her, cheeks flushed with intoxication. The song soon ended and she left the stage. 

    “You gonna make your move?” Grabbing his coin purse, he paid the tab and slipped on his cap. 

    “I’m going back to the barracks. I got what I came for.” His feet led him away from the place he wanted to run towards. The funny thing about him was that he loved a challenge. And he knew just how to maneuver it until he won it. 

 

*** 

 

    “Asami-chan?” Blinking sleepily, she lifted her head to find her Grandpa leaning over her, hands on the kitchen table. 

    “Ah…g-good morning Grandpa…” 

    “You look horrible.”

    “I didn’t sleep well last night Jii-chan.” 

    “Take better care of yourself.” It was said in a scold but underneath, she knew he held concern. Rubbing at her eyes, she sat up with a sigh. 

    “I am going out.” Yawning, she lifted her arms above her in a stretch. 

    “Out?”

    “That’s what I said.”

    “Where?”

    “A match of go.”

    “Ah.” 

    “Get some sleep hm?” 

    “Mm.” A soft pat to the top of her head was all she got and it made her smile as she watched him limp off to get his coat. It was times like these that made her remember the joking, laughing man she’d grown up loving. Rubbing at her eyes once more, she got up from the table. Truth be told, she’d been up all night reading his diary. Entries before 1943 were sparse and few and far between but they were there.

     Still in his adolescence, he mostly spoke about memories of his father and his school education. Extremely rigorous and brutal at times, he spoke candidly about the things the teachers made him and his classmates do. It saddened her that the children were indoctrinated with bigoted and xenophobic propaganda. It deeply saddened her to read that they were seen as nothing more than future soldiers. 

    What tickled her though was the scorching chemistry between her grandparents….already. It was in true Bea fashion to go after what she wanted and while she and grandpa hadn’t had many words, it was obvious from the entries that she was more than digging him. Sure, it was completely physical at first… the attraction between them. But, she knew something they hadn’t known. That their love would evolve, grow and last through five decades. 

    “Good morning all!” The sound of Meredith’s voice from the front of the house made her smile sleepily. 

    “‘Mornin’ Mere.” 

    “Ooh, you look exhausted.” She said, coming into the kitchen. 

    “I am exhausted. Now, that you’re here I’m going to get some sleep.”

    “Sure. Where’s Mr. Matsuda?”

    “He went to play some chess with a buddy of his.”

    “Ohhh okay then. Well, gon and get some rest.”

    “‘Kay.” Lifting heavy feet, she made it up the stairs and into bed. 

 

*** 

 

1943 

Oriental Pearl 

Closing 

 

 

    “Bea, I’m going out for a smoke. Don’t make trouble.”

    “For God’s sake Joe, I’m not a little girl. Go take your damn smoke.” Her brother grinned, leaving her in her dressing room. Sighing, she reached down to unbuckle her heels, thankful to get them bad boys off after a long night in em. A breath of relief whooshed out of her and she sat back against the chair. Taking in her reflection in the large mirror, she began to ease the pins from her hairstyle. After a while, a knock at the door drew her attention. 

    “It’s open!” Going back to removing her pins, the door slowly opened and in stepped a person that was certainly not Joe. Freezing, she let her hands drop from her now fallen curls, eyes on a now familiar face. 

    “You’ve got some guts coming in here Soldier.” She said, crossing her arms. He didn’t answer but he didn’t have to. His eyes said everything. Licking her teeth, she turned in her chair to face him. 

    “It’s not gentlemanly to come in a Lady’s dressing room.” She somehow remained calm but damn it her heart was beating like a wild bird in a cage. She’d never said much about her attraction to the man. She tried to let it go over the couple of months they’d been acquainted. Though he nearly always sat in the back by the bar, she now could easily find him in midst of the crowd. 

*** 

 

    She tried not to look at him. Tried to focus on her set and get off the stage. But, there was something so magnetic about him, the unnamed Japanese soldier who came early and stayed late. Over the two months they’d seen each other, he came to the club like clockwork and ordered the same kinds of drinks. She’d never spoken to him much but somehow, she wanted to fix that tonight. 

    “Bea, what you tryna get into after the show?” In a group of Negro musicians, she smiled at one such man as he gave her sweet eyes. 

    “I’m goin’ home Jed.”

    “Aw a girl like you too pretty to go home so early.”    

    “Is that right?”

    “With that pretty little dress you got on, you need to be dancin.” Rolling her eyes, she took another sip of her frozen daiquiri. Finishing the rest of the dangerously deceiving drink, she cleared her throat. 

    “What y’all gon play next?” 

    “We thinkin maybe some Fats.” 

    “I dance then.” Getting up, she inhaled sharply, lifting her hands to smooth down her dress. Pretty scandalous for her, a luxurious cream silk number that fit like a glove. The neckline was lower than she’d worn before, an elegant halter neckline, two delicate strings of pearls adorned her neck and hung down across healthy cleavage. On her arms, she wore a boa of real ostrich feathers, matching gloves that ended at her elbow, and a pretty hair decoration. Her most suggestive dress yet. Her hair had been parted to the side and curled, pinned up underneath her head to give her the appearance of a short curly pageboy.  

    Like she said before, she’d tried to ignore him. Stories had reached her recounting the inhumane things men like him did to the Chinese locals and anyone else they deemed ‘inferior’. Her brother had warned her time and time again to entertain and that’s it. But damn it, she had to talk to him. Just to say she had. And maybe after this night, she’d finally be able to put away her building attraction to him. After all, he was nice to look at but nothing could ever come between them. It just wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right. So, her brain said as her feet moved at once and they didn’t stop until they led her to him. 

    “I see you in here more often now.” At first, he didn’t even look at her, just kept nursing his vodka like she wasn’t literally standing right next to him. A flicker of annoyance burned her. 

    “Are you always this rude?” There, she’d finally gotten his attention. Those deep brown eyes turned to look at her. He’d taken his military hat off and his hair was neatly kept, clipped just below his ear. Traces of shine. Hair gel to keep it smoothed back. Up close, he was simply gorgeous. Intense monolid eyes stared at her. A lively peach complexion, his cheeks flushed the lightest of pink from intoxication. He had a straight nose bridge that flared out into a slightly wide nasal tip. He had gorgeous pouty lips and a beautifully shaped cupid’s bow. Letting those eyes slide down her body, he remained frustratingly quiet as he lifted them back up to her own. 

    “Yes. I am.” She liked the way his voice sounded when he spoke. It sounded just the way he appeared. Smooth like the vodka he favored. Powerful. Solid. Confident. Rugged. Slightly raspy.

    “Not a people person?”

    “You could say that.” 

    “Hm.” Things were quiet between them, an awkward silence that dug into her like nails. 

    “Are you done singing?” He asked, motioning for another shot. 

    “If I was? Would you leave?”

    “What makes you think you’re that important to me?” Lifting her eyebrows, she shifted her jaw before replying. 

    “Tell me I’m not and I might halfway believe you.” There, he dared to chuckle and the sound of it was brushed against her like rough fingertips on cashmere. 

    “Your purpose for disturbing me must have been to annoy me.”

    “You don’t know me well enough for me to annoy you, soldier.” 

    “You don’t know me well enough to assume I’m here for you, Negro.” Her hand lifted to slap him but she caught it just in the nick of time. Taking his drink out of his hand, she tossed back the shot nice and easy. 

    “Thanks for stating the obvious. Don’t forget about yourself.” 

    “What?”

    “I’m the poor, dumb Negro and you’re the Japanese colonizer. Right?” That seemed to strike a nerve in him because almost immediately his eyes went from cool to ice cold. 

    “I’ll let that comment pass because you so kindly offered me your drink. But, if you and I are gonna get along, we best make proper introductions, don’t you think?” He still hadn't answered her and she wouldn’t lie if she said that the expression on his face didn’t send a chill or two down her spine. Outstretching her hand, she extended it towards him. 

    “Hi. I’m Beatrice. Bea for short but that’s only if I like you. Nice to meet you….?” His jaw tightened and it took him the longest time before he lifted his hand and shook hers. 

    “Ichiro. Ichiro Matsuda.” 

    “Ichiro. Nice to meet you.” 

    “Nice to meet you, Beatrice.” 

 

***

     From that initial meeting, slowly but surely the two of them started to warm up around each other. She became Beatrice, No Negro added and he became Ichiro, no Japanese colonizer. Their conversations had started off strained. Awkward. Unsure. It came with the territory. She’d never felt this way before… about any man, Negro or Non Negro. She’d stopped trying to figure out how quite literally this man, made her enemy by war, could suffocate her heart and force it lame. It seemed he too had finally stopped trying to figure it out. His hooded eyes cast a spell on her and the intensity in them choked the breath from her lungs.

    “I wouldn’t enter without an invitation, Beatrice.” Throat dry, she faced the vanity and reached for her drink, some fruity number that made you forget it had alcohol in it. Taking a gulp or three, she finished it and stood up, facing him with her arms crossed. 

    “Well, that’s because I thought you were my brother, Ichiro.” The way his name rolled off her tongue made him smirk, something she’d never much seen him do before. It electrified her. 

    “I been singing all night, I’m tired and my feet hurt. I’ll ask again, what do you want, man?” 

    “I want to talk.” That brought a laugh to her and she licked her teeth.

    “I doubt that.” She answered with a sigh, reaching up to ease the remaining pins from her hair. Gliding fingers across her brother’s lighter, she slipped one of his cigarettes into her mouth and was just about to light it when it was yanked from her and thrown on the ground. 

    “What the he-” Hungry lips crushed hers, taking every ounce of breath she had. Her eyes grew wide and her hands flew up to his shoulders to push him away but weakened eventually, falling flat against them. Her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth softened. The sound of their impassioned kiss enfolded the room and quiet breath lived between them. 

    “Congratulations. You’ve kissed your first Negro woman.” She teased half-heartedly, moving to push him back. But he didn’t budge. In fact, he took a step closer, sandwiching her flush between him and the vanity. 

    “Don’t ruin the moment.” He breathed against her, leaning down to press a kiss against her tawny shoulder. 

    “Ichi-” Her words caught in her throat as he kissed down across her neck and further up toward her collarbone. Each soft press of his lips against her caused her mind to delve even deeper into intoxicated brain fog. The sound of distant jazz played sweet and soft.

    “My brother is… outside…you have to go.” He didn’t answer her immediately, sighing against her neck. She used the opportunity to wrap her arms around him. 

    “I am being deployed overseas in two days.” He said against her, breathing slow and warm. Her throat grew tight.

    “I thought you deserved to know.” Finally, he lifted his head and raised his hand to caress her cheek. 

    “Ichiro…I…”

    “I wanted you to know how I feel before I left. If it’s of any importance to you at all.” He let go of her finally and took a step back. She grabbed his hand before he could walk away and for the briefest of moments ran into his arms. It didn’t matter at that moment. What he was. What side he was on. Who she was. Or wasn’t. For a minute with everything laid at the door, they were two human beings who had developed feelings for one another… the war be damned. 

    “Be careful…please.” His answer was one last kiss and for the first time, it deepened by way of passion, desire, and tongue. It left her panting like a starving madman and she wanted more. Sucking on her fleshy bottom lip, he gently pried her hands off of his uniform and stepped back, creating distance between them that was appropriate. Swallowing so hard she heard it, he didn’t say another word as he turned on his heel and left the way he came, closing the door behind him with a gentle ‘click’. 

End Notes:

A/N: Juuuuuuust a tad bit spicy in here lol. BRUH. I LOVEEEEEE BEA AND ICHIRO'S CHEMISTRY BRUH. Man. Our leading man is understandably ignorant and harsh at first but I loved how our Queen handled him. Seems she's always had a way of 'softening' him up huh? hehe. TOO CUTE. I wanted to add some aesthetics for you all before I go to bed hehe. I hope you've enjoyed these small updates! Hopefully more soon! 

Love you all. God bless~ 

DL~

 

Bea's dresses: 

(she's such a vintage baddie. FIGHT ME. The B in Beatrice is short for BADDIE.) 

 

ご by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


*explicit battle sequences, death, r*pe. please be warned* 


go 


five 

 

 Rainy days were the worst. When the water fell from the sky and hit the earth, his entire body hurt. Over the years, his wife's presence had been more than simply therapeutic. When they were younger and his leg or back hurt, she'd take him to soak in a large tub filled with some kind of purifying salt. She'd lather her hands with aromatic oils and softly work the knots and kinks out of his muscles until he'd be all but putty beneath her. Sometimes, she'd hum, other times she'd sing... and all the while, the pain in his head too would subside and melt away. 

Hands were an interesting thing. It fascinated him how humans took them for granted. Without the muscle, sinew, and bone, one could not eat, reach, grab, pull... It was amazing how the digits served an important purpose for essential living. Thunder now crackled in the dark firmament. Lightning tore the clouds apart, an impressive show of pinkish-red color flashing throughout the atmosphere. Matsuda...His eyes concentrated on his hands. Matsuda...He tried to stretch his fingers but pain made it impossible... Matsuda...Matsuda...MATSU-

*** 

"-DA! HURRY UP!" Rain pelted them as they filed out of the Army trucks. Blinded by the onslaught, he grit his teeth and ran forward, the call of their superior officer up ahead. 

"Assume positions!" Immediately crashing hard into the thick mud, he aligned his machine gun against him, finger on the trigger. 

"Damned white baboons! Shoot on sight! Don't allow them to advance!" A uniform cry echoed throughout the forests. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he could see the landscape off in the distance. The fortresses they'd safeguarded. Now being invaded slowly by the enemy forces. The firing squad was all deathly quiet, except for their breath. In mid-July, sweat poured down his face and neck, the slippery moisture making his hands slide a bit against the trigger. His uniform stuck to him like a second skin and the humidity licked his face with red hot flames, making it hard to breathe. 

He slowed his breathing, thin streams of sweat dangerously slipping close by his tear ducts. The sound of water sloshing pierced the stillness and the sound of heavy tinkling from equipment rose next and he tightened his position on the trigger. Sharply looking to his left, they all waited for the order to fire. After a little while yet and closer still they came, the Superior Officer lifted his hand. Without warning, bullets began to ring out as they sliced through trees, water, muscle, and bone. 

*** 

She'd had a great evening. Nothing too out of the ordinary. She'd gone out with some girlfriends to a popular eating spot and danced to some swing. By the time she went to sleep, she had been completely exhausted. Deep in slumber, she had been unaware of the chaos that was happening around her. It wasn't until she had been shaken awake by her brother that she grew terrifyingly sober. 

"BEATRICE! WAKE UP!" Jolting awake, she sleepily protested against her brother who took hold of her and yanked her up. 

"What tha hell's wrong withyou?" She grumbled, lifting hands to rub the sleep out of her eyes. 

"The Japs are here Bea."

"Whatchumeantheyhere? They everwhere."

"No...they standing right outside the door with pistols and bayonets." That slapped her awake real quick and she started to panic. 

"Oh God..."

"They gon take us somewhere."

"Take us where Joe?"

"I don't know...." Pulling her out of bed, her brother began to throw open her armoire. 

"Start packin. Put your valuables on you."

"Joe..."

"Do it. They not playing." Still trying to wake up fully, her mind turned into a panicked frenzy and she began to shove clothes and other belongings into suitcases. 

"We never shoulda left Chicago." She said in a clipped nervous tone as he helped her into her housecoat. 

"Maybe you right. But we had a better chance out here than back in the States." She'd shoved her most expensive jewelry and money into her undergarments and hastily threw on some shoes, a coat, and a hat. Heart pounding against her chest her eyes met her brother's. 

"We'll be alright Bea. They'll let us go when we show them our papers." Everything in her wanted to break down and cry but she refused. She swallowed her tears down and reached for his hand. Slowly, he led her to the door. Opening it, the two of them stood still as mayhem happened around them. 

Soldiers pulled men, women and children out of their homes, men women and children that looked like them. They rounded them up in the middle of the street. Some of the women barely had anything on and shivered under thin housecoats or blankets. Young children began to cry and cling to their mothers. Joe tightened his grip on her hand just as a few soldiers turned to look at them. 

"You. Stand here." One of them ordered in heavily accented English. 

"Yes sir." Tugging her along, the two of them joined the others. Lifting his free arm, he wrapped it around her and pulled her close. 

"We're not gonna cause no trouble." 

"No talk. Talk I shoot." That quickly ended and the two of them stood for what seemed like hours. In the dead of night, it was cold and she had begun to shiver. She was fortunate to have put on shoes before being disrupted. Some of them had none and were not allowed to go back inside. 

"Show them the papers, Joe." She whispered against him, her teeth chattering. Eyes watched the group of soldiers move about, entering the empty homes, presumably looking for valuables. To their horrified shock, the captors began to set the homes on fire, one by one. 

Some of the women began to scream and cry and that seemed to set off a grisly chain of events. One of the women that had started screaming was shot, blood soaking the dark pavement as she fell crumpled to the ground. Utter chaos happened then as folks began to scatter in different directions. She began to hyperventilate then, eyes wide and teary as the soldiers unleashed a barrage of gunfire upon the crowd. Hands grabbed at her and forced her away from Joe, making her yell. 

"NO! STOP! LET ME GO!" Joe, no longer peaceable, tried to resist, turning to clock one of the soldiers in the face. The man who had her was pulling her away further and further and God, everything was going so fast... all of it was moving so fast she barely had time to process what was happening. Time, though, stopped all too soon when he moved to come towards her. Before he could go anywhere, two soldiers attacked him, one from the side and one from the back with their bayonets, stabbing him through the chest and just under his ribcage. He let out an agonized groan but it was quickly silenced as yet another aimed a rifle at him and pulled the trigger, messily splattering blood and brains into the air. 

"JOSEPH! JOSEPHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She wasn't sure when she had started screaming but she heard herself wail and weep, calling out to him with shrieks of sorrow. Fat heavy tears blinded her vision and she made every move to resist the hands and arms that held her captive. It did no good as they hauled her away further and further away. Everything moved in slow motion and at the moment they threw her into a windowless trunk, she had gone limp. 

***

The moans of the dying made his eyes watery. He'd tried as much as he could to carry his fallen comrades back to shelter. Some of them had expired long before he'd lifted them up, others staring up into nothingness before the soul left their eyes. Snarling up his lip, he hoisted up another wounded soldier and inhaled sharply through his nose as he helped him back towards base. 

"Matsuda, return to the frontlines." His commanding officer ordered, coming to take the man from him. 

"Yes sir." And so, there he crawled back into his spot, once flanked by many comrades, now just a few. Focusing his telescope, he rested his finger lightly on the trigger. It humored him that the Americans thought that they were being quiet as they approached but their heavy footfalls gave them away easily. Shoot on sight. Swallowing, he waited until they were a tad bit closer before firing. He'd avenge his fallen comrades with their blood. Like flies, they started to go down, and holes of blood-covered their uniforms. Within minutes, he'd cleared the line of them and soon got to his feet. 

Grabbing his katana, he pushed past the thick foliage of leaves and branches. Some of them were still alive and reached for their weapons. Those he cut down almost immediately. But, then there were those who were significantly more wounded who tried to grab their weapons. That humored him. One such man had eyes blazing with blue fire. Hatred. Blood trickled out of his mouth and he'd fallen so hard that his helmet had been knocked off. Wet blonde-brown hair plastered to his forehead. 

"God...damn...Jap..." He hissed with haggard breaths, reaching for his gun there a little ways from him. The insult made him laugh and he knelt, he watched the ant scurry and wiggle. Clicking his tongue, he tsked the dying man. 

"You're a useless soldier. A waste of a body."

"Fuck you...yell...yellow monkey..." He grinned. He'd tired of toying with him and with a sigh stood up, lifting the katana above his head. 

"Tennōheika Banzai." With a clean swift cut, he sliced off his head. Lifting to pick it up, he gripped it by the hair and spit on the dismembered corpse. 

When he returned to camp, he'd collected about three or four heads and laid them at his commanding officer's feet. 

"Well done, Matsuda. Our Emperor would be proud." To the praise, he bowed, lowering his entire body to the ground in reverence. He stayed put until a hand tapped him on the back. 

"Let's return to base and celebrate this victory."

"Yes sir." 

***

"Grandpa?" The room was quiet and she hadn't seen any signs of movement as she peeked her head into his room. 

"Grandpa-" 

"I'm not dead yet. Calm yourself." Exhaling in relief, Asami came into the room. 

"You didn't come downstairs for breakfast or lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Jii-chan, you have to eat." He didn't answer her and she sighed as she neared his bed. Pausing, she froze at the scene before her. He'd removed his prosthesis and it leaned up against the wall, signs that he's hastily removed it. To add to the fact, as he lay in bed, signs of bloody fluid had leaked into the sheets, something she'd never before seen. 

"Grandpa, your leg..."

"It has done this from time to time over the years. Fluid is collected in the stump."

"Is that healthy?"

"I doubt that it is."

"But-"

"What did you come for Asami?" He said with a brash tone cutting into her. 

"I'm concerned about you Jii-chan...that's all. I do not mean to irritate or disturb you." He sighed heavily and began to sit up on the edge of the bed. 

"Today is a bad day. I apologize."

"No, grandpa...it's....it's fine. Can I bring you anything? Is there something that Meredith can make you to eat?"

"Broth. A few crackers. And some vegetables from Bea's garden." 

"Of course." As she turned to walk away, he'd reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing her a still. He was silent as he looked up at her, but his eyes expressed everything his mouth couldn't. He was in pain, that she could clearly see. But, more than pain, she was looking into the true face of suffering. Such agony had marred his face in the form of deep-set wrinkles of age. Harsh lines had etched themselves around the sides of his mouth due to frowning. She remembered when his mouth smiled and laughed. His eyes once had been warm and friendly...full of life. 

Normally they were detached and lifeless. But on this day, the emotions he loathed himself to feel or admit came bubbling up to the surface just as the blood that had escaped from his leg. At some point, it had to all be released. Gently tightening her grip on his hand, she smiled sadly and approached, coming to wrap arms around him. 

"It's okay to miss her grandpa." He slowly let go of her hand. 

"It's okay to say that you're hurting." She continued as his arms came to hug her in return. 

"It's okay to feel." 

"No...I don't have the right to feel." 

"Why not?" 

"If you knew what I've done... you would wish me dead." At that, she remained silent. He didn't know that indeed she was in process of knowing. While she had conflicting emotions about it all... about him... he was still her grandfather.

"Grandma loved you and so do I." His arms were loosening from around her and soon they hung at his sides. She took the cue and let go of him. 

"Staying in here cooped up in the dark is not going to make you feel better. Eat with me, Grandpa. Come on." He didn't complain as she helped him stand. Grabbing his crutches for him, she gave them to him, and together they began to make their way downstairs, slowly but surely meeting Mere who had prepared them lunch. 

***

Sometimes, it's best to leave the past in the past. To move forward, we must forgive ourselves for our ignorance, mishaps, and wrongdoings. What if I can't? 

End Notes:

 

A/N: This chapter was heavy. *sniffle* I want to give Ichiro the BIGGEST hug. He was so indoctrinated. So brainwashed. He's literally battling himself... the thin line between his beliefs, his spirituality, and what is right and wrong. It's heartbreaking to write. Can we talk about Asami for a moment? She's such a brave queen. Can you imagine reading such gruesome crimes against humanity and knowing that YOUR GRANDFATHER participated in committing them? That's a HARD pill to swallow and sort through. Even still, Sami is trying to weed through the past and present in more ways than one. His memories and hers. A part of her cannot bring herself to hate her grandpa. More than this, I believe she's trying her very best to UNDERSTAND him. 

My heart hurts for Bea and the loss of her brother. I imagine that the moments before the Imperial Japanese Army or even the Nazis stormed into homes and in the blink of an eye ruined lives, the victims did ordinary mundane things not aware of what lie ahead. 

I wanted to add another note. This story's setting is currently in 1997. Asami is 24 years old. :) I've got some pictures of the perfect people for Asami and Meredith. 

 

Lisa Asano as Asami Miller (24) 

Natalia Castellara Calvani as Meredith (19) 

ろく by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

six 

roku 

* PLEASE BE WARNED. GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF R*PE. UNFORTUNATELY, IT IS A PRETTY COMMON THEME IN THIS BODY OF WORK FOR SAKE OF KEEPING HISTORICAL ACCURACY. DEATH. LANGUAGE. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AMONG OTHERS ARE ALSO DEPICTED. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.* 

 

 

 "Ms. Miller, may I have a word with you?" Following the doctor into the hallway, she gripped her hands tightly behind her. Whatever it was that he was going to say was not good. Her gut just told her so. 

"As you know, we've been sustaining the progression of Mr. Matsuda's laryngeal cancer with medication," 

"Yes." 

"I regret to inform you that despite this, it has metastasized." The news hit her in the gut. 

"It has spread to his lymph nodes. Respectfully, are you aware of what those are?"

"Yes, sir." Nodding, the doctor swallowed and continued grimly, 

"With cancer spreading to a person's lymph nodes, the survival rate is less than 7%." Though she remained quiet, her eyes had started to grow teary. 

"How..." Clearing her throat, she spoke again, voice stronger. 

"How much time does he have?" The doctor, Mr. Williams, had been the family doctor for years and over time had grown to form a bond with everyone, specifically Grandpa. 

"At best, Sami...six weeks." He dropped the professionalism, the distraught emotion on his face mirroring hers. 

"Thank you for letting me know." 

"Of course."

"Does Grandpa know?"

"I just informed him."

"How did he take it?" 

"As usual. No response. Just a nod." Her heart began to break into pieces. 

"I'll return for my weekly visit next week. Perhaps during that time, we can discuss hospice care." 

"Sure." Lifting a hand to her shoulder, he gently squeezed and left her standing in the hallway, closing the door just as she'd begun to cry. 

*** 

Tears wet her cheeks. Grief crippled her and she could not stop shaking. The ride was bumpy and it felt like she'd been in the back of the truck for hours. Inside the dark, others wept and wailed. The stench of vomit and urine filled the space. With a sudden lurch forward, the vehicle stopped. The sound of heavy footsteps traveled around the side of the boxy cabin and at once, the doors to the truck were pulled open. They began to pull and yank them out, ignoring the screams and protests. They spoke in angry harsh Japanese, some of it she understood. 

"Line up! Hurry up!" Fear sliced her in half and she still couldn't stop that damn shaking. 

"Women over here. Men over there. Now!" They all hurried to follow the instructions and she found herself next to a girl who only appeared to be 14 or 15 years old. She had blood on her face and she assumed that her parents had been murdered before the journey. One of the soldiers stepped forward and began to peruse them. Her heart beat so fast she felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. The eyes of the man analyzed everything about them, reaching for their faces. His gaze skimmed everything from their eyebrows to their teeth. 

"Niu," He called to one of the soldiers who came forward with a salute. As he came to a stop right next to her, he grabbed hold of the girl's face beside her. She openly sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. 

"This one." The soldier came forward and grabbed her, ignoring her pleas and screams. He tightened his grip and pulled her away from the bunch of them. Some of the others, he ordered to be assembled in a line. Those he had no interest in were forced into a small grouping. 

"I will make this clear to you all only once. If you decide to run, these will be your consequences." The one she assumed was of senior rank said, arms crossed behind his back. The women in the line were forced to kneel and blindfolded. Some of them began to sob and plead for help, others began to pray, voices shaky. Without warning, rifles were aimed at them and fired, silencing them all as they fell crumpled in different directions. As if that wasn't enough, the soldiers advanced upon them and began to hoist up some of those who had not been killed. Their groans of pain turned into yells of agony and pain as bayonets were shoved into their bodies over and over again. She felt her legs grow numb and almost went down, save for one who caught her. 

"Don't give them the victory of seeing you fallen." She whispered against her fiercely, tightening her hold on her arms. 

"Stand up." Tears blinded her vision and when she blinked, all was clear but for a moment. Sniffling, she moved her feet to get feeling back in them and slowly stood up straight again. 

"Niu." The officer called to the soldier, who once again, came forward. 

"Sir!" 

"Demonstrate to the females what else will happen should they entertain thoughts of escape." 

"Yes sir!" He turned on his feet and grabbed the poor girl of before, throwing her onto the ground. She began to scream as he crawled on top of her. Lifting a heavy fist, he began to beat her. In between hits, he ripped apart her dress, popping buttons and tearing the fabric open with his bare hands. 

"NO! NO!" She hollered as her breasts came into view. Licking his lips like a hungry animal, he began to help himself to them, shoving her clawed hands back against the dirt. In this time, the woman beside her had grabbed hold of her hand and the two of them gripped each other with a bruising force. 

When the man was done with her top half, he began to unbutton his pants, shoving them down just enough to reveal his erect member. Raising his fist again, he began to batter her until she became silent. Now no longer fighting him, it was easy to lift open her legs and penetrate her. The man wasted no time, humping her with quick fast movements. The bloodied and bruised girl wailed as he roughly plowed into her. A rough grunt left his throat and he pulled out of her, tucking his member back inside of his pants before lifting up to stand. Taking a provided rifle, he knelt once more, a slight distance between them.

To the horror of everyone watching, he began to stab her with the bayonet, fast choppy blows into her sex organs and stomach. The sounds that came from her are ones that no living person should have ever made and they caused several women in their small group to hunch over and vomit. When the soldier was done carving her, he turned the weapon down to aim at her. In the midst of her screaming, he fired a shot to the head, silencing her for good. All this time, the men had been quiet, their faces shiny with tears. 

"Now, let's deal with the males." 

*** 

Drying her eyes, she sniffled and took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She'd have to let her mother know. 

"Sami? You okay?" The voice of Meredith startled her and she cleared her throat, wiping the rest of the tears from her face. 

"Yeah... sorry. Just had a moment." The younger girl smiled sadly. 

"I know it gets to be too much sometimes. Caring for Mr. Matsuda."

"He's definitely not an easy patient is he?" She said, returning Meredith's smile with a watery one of her own. 

"Nope. But I guess at his age, he's deserved the right to be hankty." She laughed some and shook her head, curls from her updo fluttering prettily around her face. 

"I appreciate you Mere. Truly. You're such a lifesaver."

"It's a pleasure to take care of you both." Linking arms with her, she led her back into the living room, where Grandpa sat watching some black and white program on television. Today had been one of the days he was incapable of speaking and she figured it would be good to just leave him be. With the prognosis clear and defined, she'd do what she could to help make the next few weeks comfortable for him. It was all she could do. 

*** 

"It spread?" 

"Yeah."

"How long does Grandpa have Sami?"

"The doctor said six weeks at best."

"Damn."

"Yeah..." 

"I'll have to cancel my business trip. Seeing him right now is the most important thing."

"Yeah Mom, we'd love to see you." Her mother sighed into the phone. 

"I'm sorry sweetheart...that I couldn't be there more." Sorry that I let all the burden of his care fall to you. 

"It's okay Mom...really. I know you're busy. I can't wait to see you. When are you coming?" 

"At the latest, Thursday of next week. I have to move some schedules around." 

"Sure thing."

"Give Grandpa kisses for me. I'll see you soon honey."

"'Kay Mom." Hanging up the phone, she went to do her nightly routine. Hopping in the shower, she washed her hair, an aloe vera and cucumber scent that calmed her nerves. She had made sacrifices. She'd given up on a masters biomedical engineering degree, given up a nice loft apartment in West Seattle and moved cross country to Essex Junction, Vermont to live as an in-house caretaker for her grandpa. It got to be too much and that's when she'd enlisted the help of Meredith part-time.

God was with her and she was able to get a great job as a medical imaging engineer. When hours began to pick up at work, she had enlisted Meredith full-time. The girl, only 19 years old, had become like her little sister and she cared deeply for her. Whatever it was that she needed, she would be there in a heart beat. Sighing under the warm toasty spray of water, she shut off the shower and got out. 

It was funny but after everything winded down, laying in bed and reading her grandfather's diary entries, his letters to his mother, even some that hadn't been sent to Grandma... it was something that she'd slowly but surely been starting to enjoy. It hurt her, yes, to read the suffering he had caused. It pained her to read his own torment. But what gave her hope was the fact that even in his oppression, the love her grandparents had once shared had healed his heart for a time. Getting into bed, she reached for the journal.

***

1944 

Burma

It had been a year since I'd been deployed from Shanghai. Over that time, I'd seen enough carnage to last a lifetime. 

*** 

At long last, he had finished burying his fallen comrades. In the hearts of the living, they would be forever regarded as gods. 

"Matsuda," Turning, he faced his commanding officer. 

"When you're finished, come with me."

"Yes, sir." Heaving the last of the soil over the mound, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Putting down the shovel, he had started to head back towards the campsite when a smell stopped him in his tracks. Meat. After a long day of shoveling, his stomach growled ferociously. Hurrying, he came to see comrades sitting by fires, eating a healthy meal of rice, meat, and pickled vegetables. 

"Come sit down Matsuda! Eat." It was pure luck that out of all the battles they'd been in, the garrulous Takahashi said with his mouth full. Scowling, he sat down, a plate handed to him. Digging in, he soaked some of the juice from the meat with the rice. 

"I'm surprised you're still alive." Takahashi spoke, spitting rice into the air. 

"You as well you rambling bastard." He replied, annoyed eyes cutting into him. 

"Don't be like that Matsuda. You're my buddy. I'm your buddy." 

"Fuck you and that stupid system. We're not cadets anymore." The man grinned as they continued to eat.

"All I need now is some pussy and I'd be a happy man."

"That is really all you think about."

"Don't tell me your little pepper didn't grow into a bigger pepper when you saw that Negro bitch on stage." He started laughing and so did others. But he wasn't laughing. 

"I don't know why you didn't fuck her when you had the chance. I hear Negro females like it rough. And we all know you like it rough too." By now, he'd stopped eating and his glare was frosty. 

"If the white baboons don't like them, something clearly is wrong with them. They're all diseased as far as I'm concerned. They all can go to hell." Yamano said, pulling apart the tender piece of meat he had in his hands. 

"Matsuda," Looking up into the face of their commanding officer, he swallowed down his food and saluted him. 

"Sir,"

"This meal you're sharing has deep significance." He waited until he continued, 

"It solidifies the strength of the Empire of Japan. It solidifies the sovereignty of our Emperor." 

"Yes sir!" When he left, they finished eating and prepared for sleep. 

"What did commander mean earlier?" He asked, laying down on a tarp. The temperatures at night were just as warm as during the day and already they were flushed and sweaty. 

"You remember those Burmese prisoners we captured two days ago?" His silence urged Takahashi to continue, 

"We sliced them up and cooked them." He shot up, feeling his heart pound against his chest. 

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. That meat you had on your plate was from one of their loins. I should know, I cut it off." Immediately, he felt lightheaded. Getting up, he inhaled harshly through his nose, touching the trees to mark his way. 

"Where're you going?"

"To piss." He answered, making it far enough away before he couldn't hold it any longer. Sticking his fingers down his throat, he forced himself to vomit there amongst the slippery leaves and rough vines of the forest thick. Retching violently, he forcefully spit out a mass of saliva and phlegm, sweat streaming down his neck and arms. 

*** 

It had never occurred to me that we were capable of eating human flesh. And even though a part of me felt disgusted... there was that part of me that felt proud to have literally consumed my enemy...no... OUR enemy. It made me wonder what kind of sick twisted bastard was I. Surely, the intensity of the dank humidity had taken the last of my conscience. I was no longer the Ichiro Matsuda that struggled with weakness.

 No, I was stronger with no conscience. I was now able to do the will of my Emperor just as my father had before me. He'd gone to his death bed with "Tenno heika banzai!" on his breath. Long live His Majesty the Emperor. Though I had vomited, at that moment I felt that being amidst the blood and mutilated bodies power and firmness. And so, I'd stay so that the rays of our sun would shine upon me.  

End Notes:

 

A/N: WHEW WHAT A WEIGHTY EPISODE. LET'S ALL BREATH, DRINK SOME WATER AND TAKE A MENTAL HEALTH BREAK. Y'ALL GOOD? Okay, let's talk about it. This chapter had a lot of tragedy. This story is kinda borderline fiction and non-fiction which is a first for me. It's fiction but then again, mostly EVERYTHING I have or will put in here besides Ichiro and Bea ACTUALLY HAPPENED to people. It's something I'm not quite comfortable with if I am being perfectly honest. When you deal with REAL PEOPLE, REAL PICTURES of REAL SOLDIERS, VICTIMS, PLACES it becomes less about the fictional creative world and becomes more tangible. 

As I'm conducting my research, I discover that some (that's a very important distinction here) Japanese soldiers actually killed prisoners of war, cut off pieces of flesh and ate them. Digging in further, I discovered that it was NOT because of starvation. Yesterday, I looked up the Imperial Japanese Army's diet back in the 40s. When I TELL Y'ALL them dudes ATE GOOD, they ATE GOOD.  Emperor Hirohito made damn sure his soldiers ate like kings. Of course, as things progressed and victories were gained and lost, the food situation changed. BUT. The eating of prisoners of war was not because they didn't have food. They did it to showcase POWER and AUTHORITY over the other prisoners. They did it to say "JAPAN IS THE BADDEST MOFO ON THE PLANET AND WE GON MAKE SURE YOU DON'T EVER FORGET IT." 

Let's all take a moment of silence for those (American,  Hindu Indian, Sikh, Australian, Burmese, etc) soldiers, officers and members of royal family that were tortured and eaten by IJ Army. 

When it comes to Ichiro, it's easy to paint him as this bestial savage who takes pleasure in murdering and killing others. The challenge with me, as the writer, is how do I not hate the character I've created LOL. He's the anti-hero I never knew I needed haha. I am rooting for his journey and HIS healing. 

Let's give ASAMI  a round of applause for her hard work and dedication to Ichiro's care. No shade to her mom or any of their other children but SHADE. Because that's YOUR FATHER. Why would you NOT want to see that he's cared for?? It leads me to ask the question: do you think his kids found out what he did in the war? Seems Sami's mother doesn't know and feels guilty because she's tied up with her career. 

I've got one more update for you all this weekend. I told y'all I been writing! lol. I have a VERY BUSY week coming up so I figured I'd upload what I just finished in case that I not be able to write much this upcoming week/weekend. 

Godspeed and plenty of self care/mental health care, 

DL~

 

なな by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


 


Nana 


seven 


*READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. VIOLENCE, MURDER AND R*PE TRIGGER WARNINGS. THANK YOU* 

 

Dreams were powerful weapons to mankind. They had the ability to incapacitate you, render you powerless and make you submit to their will. He wanted, for once, to stop dreaming. The scribblings in his journal came to life and over and over again he relived the memories until he'd wake in a cold sweat. Perhaps this was his just due. This was his reward. What he deserved. The ghosts of the men watched him as he slept, the women he'd raped and mutilated laid beside him and screamed as they did before dying, the children he'd bayonetted and sliced in half sat on his chest, in their many pieces, and laughed at him. You deserve the pain and suffering. You deserve to die a long and slow death. They whispered to him. You deserve to watch your body rot from the inside out. 

When he'd wake, tears had seeped from his eyes and wet his pillow and pain set his entire body on fire. Grunting, he pushed himself up and reached to open his nightstand dresser drawer. Nearly pulling the whole of it out, his fingers fished around until he found it. Wrenching it out, he gripped a photo with his burning fingers. Watery eyes took in the picture that time and time again served to comfort him. 

Standing in front of the picturesque setting of a tree, countryside, and a white gate, he held his wife close. Hands curled up in a loose fist against the side of her body, he'd turned his head and leaned down some to press his lips against her cheek. His other hand rested on his hip. A demure and gentle expression lived on her face, in the small smile she gave the camera, her hands out of view. Gasping for breath now, he couldn't control the tears that came from his eyes. 

"Beatrice...." 

*** 

1945

January

Mukden POW Camp 

Her legs had grown tired and cold but she forced herself to continue working. She had no other choice. Bending low, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a handful of seed. Sprinkling it into the dug out holes, she covered it up and went to the next hole. Her sackcloth dress was soaked with sweat and the harsh winds of winter chilled her to the bone. Shivering, she continued to work as best she could. Her mouth was dry and she was severely dehydrated. It was a feeling she'd grown used to, her tongue feeling like coarse sand brushing the top of her mouth. If she finished early, the guard would give her a tiny amount of water. It proved motivation to hurry.

It had been two years since she'd been brought to Mukden. In that time, she'd seen it all. Children born only to be shot. Men were forced to stand in below-freezing temperatures naked and doused in ice-cold water until their limbs froze. Women were taken to 'appointments' and never seen again. This place was hell on earth. 

*** 

Crowded into rooms, she hugged another woman as they waited. Shivering, cold, and naked, fear gripped the small group of them. The waiting seemed to drag on for hours before the steel door to the cell was opened. In filed five soldiers, each for the five of them. The door began to close and for a moment, they looked back and forth at each other in deafening silence. But soon, the soldiers started to unbutton their uniforms, signaling their intention. Every one of them began to panic and tried to push themselves against the cold stone wall.

Some of them began to scream as the now partially unclothed men advanced and gripped them by their hair. Fear threading a deep knot in her stomach, she felt like her heart was going to pop out of her body with how fast it was beating. Her breaths were uneven... harsh... gasping. A shot rang out, making them jump. One unwilling participant laid crumpled up on the floor, blood oozing from her head. Tears made her eyes shiny and she couldn't help the low cries that escaped her as one man grabbed hold of her. 

"You're prettier than the rest of them. Dark skin." He said with a slight grin, lifting his hands to grip her breasts. Her hands were tight in fists and her entire body shook and shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth as he pinched her nipples, a hiss of pain at him brutally twisting them. Lifting her hands up now, she gave him a healthy shove, her hands taking her injured breasts in her palms. 

"Don't touch me." She spit, eyes growing defiant. He chuckled but didn't say another word, instead he lifted a hand and slapped her, the sound of impact loud and reverberant. The force of it knocked her down and he didn't give her any time to recover, straddling her. 

"I have heard about your kind. Black skin and black blood." He hushed, his hands wrapping around her neck. Squeezing tightly, he forced her to gasp for air, her hands trying but failing to scratch him. He succeeded in forcing them back with a hand and punched her hard, making her vision blur and black out. Another against her cheek. There busting her lip. Still, she tried to fight back, determined grunts rising from her throat. They only seemed to humor him, however. Once silent, now the room filled with the noise of open and muffled screams, wet gurgling, impact from blows, and rough hard thrusting. 

"The only normal color on you is your pussy." He vocalized in discovery, having spread her legs open. 

"D-don't...touch...me..." She pushed out, bloody saliva oozing out of her mouth. Her consequence was a bruising slap against her triangle and the impact made her cry out in agony. Her legs instantly tried to close up but he forced them to stay apart. 

"Close them and I put a bullet through your head." He threatened, letting go of the now shaking limbs. Extending a finger, he prodded and poked at her, pulling apart her folds and examining them. He stretched them outwards, testing the feeling of the skin. 

"Interesting. Soft." Letting go of her labia, he took that same finger and jabbed it into her small entrance, making her screech. 

"Hm." Wiggling the digit around, he brushed every nook and cranny of her insides, feeling and examining her like an animal. Withdrawing his finger, he took two of them and hooked the tips on either side of her opening. With brute force, he pulled it apart as far as he could go, the action forcing a scream to come from her throat. 

"So pink inside..." He ignored the shouts and yells to stop. She'd dug her nails into the ground so hard they'd broken and started bleeding. To her disgust and horror, he had the audacity to spit, watching the saliva disappear into the stretched hole. Pain made her quiver with fresh sharp prickles as if a million needles stabbed her from her head to her feet. By now the ugly dangling thing between his legs had grown in size and now visibly oozed white liquid. Reaching for it, he began to touch it, bringing it closer and closer to her abused opening. He said not a word as he penetrated her, the force of his intrusion made tears slip silently down the sides of her face, her expression full of anguish. 

He released a shaky groan as he smashed into her, his thrusts uneven and violent. The tears in her one good eye that had not been blackened blinded her vision and she squeezed it shut as he pummeled her insides. He let out a loud exclaim of pleasure and pressed flush against her for a moment, his body weight completely crushing her and the skin of his flesh slick with sweat. Finally, he withdrew from her and licked his lips at the semen that expelled itself from her body. She laid there shuddering, ears taking in the rustle of clothes and weeping from the other women. They shared a few words amongst themselves, some chuckles, and then with the sound of the door opening and closing she opened her eye. 

Failing to will her body to move, all she could do was turn her head. The woman she'd rode with in the black vehicle had curled up into a ball, arms wrapping around herself as if to shield herself. Another laid limp, legs still open, her fingers flexing and eyes staring up at the ceiling. And the last woman was still and unmoving, deep red finger marks around her pale neck revealed signs of strangulation. Her eyes looked upward, lifeless and unseeing. 

*** 

After that, every semblance of their former identity had been erased and the four had simply been given a three-digit number. For some reason, she was given a four-digit number. They'd been split up, she and the woman from the truck sent to work in the agricultural sector, and the other one elsewhere. 

They had been sent to a building called 'Sector 9'; quarters specifically for women and children. After some time there, she'd learned that some of those men who had been abducted with her had long since died, not even surviving two months. She'd finally learned the name of her companion that survived the abduction. Her name was Ruby. Her husband and children had been taken to another camp somewhere in Singapore. Ruby was the only one keeping her fire going. They encouraged one another no matter what came. 

Every day that she woke, there was no certainty that she'd live to rest that night. It threatened to deplete and destroy her. The bitterness and rage she felt towards these Japanese creatures kept her going. She'd never forgive them for murdering her brother. She'd never forgive them for violating her. She'd never forgive them for murdering innocent men, women, and children just for the hell of it. She'd heard stories from some of the women. They called it 'Unit 100'. The place people went never to return. It was well known that people were used in experiments....being cut open alive with no pain medication, forcibly made to have sex with syphilis infected strangers, and put in chambers that made their bodies explode. She'd heard enough to turn her blood cold.

In the two years since at Mukden, she'd come into contact with so many different women. Those from Russia. Ukraine. Lithuania. India. Korea. Even more Americans. Here, the racial divide didn't matter and she supposed that out of everything, that fact was the best thing to happen. It was sad that it took the threat of losing one's life to create a sense of community. 

"Bea," Turning, she saw Ruby scooching her way towards her down the line of rows. 

"Did you hear about Uly?" The one that had been separated from them and taken elsewhere.

"Yeah. I heard. They killed her and the baby." Ruby tightened her jaw and messy scattered seed over the holes she'd neatly filled. 

"Bastards. All of em goin to hell." She didn't argue with that. 

"It feels like this war is never gonna end." It did feel that way. It tortured her to think that she'd die on this cursed plot of land surrounded by the corpses of the innocent. 

"Head to the women's chamber!" The overseer commanded suddenly, his hands on his gun ready to shoot all who opposed. 

"That's sudden. Wonder what they want." She inquired, eyes taking in the sour-faced man. 

"I don't know but they can kiss my ass," Ruby replied, bringing a tiny chuckle to her. They dropped their tools and obeyed, going into the barracks. As they headed in, they passed a building they called 'the urn'. It was the crematorium where they incinerated all their physical evidence. By now she should have gotten used to the smell of burning flesh and bone. But then she gathered that she never would be able to get the smell of death out of her nose even if she dug her own fingers into her nostrils.

"Fall in!"  The guard ordered once they were in the barracks. They did as told. 

"Attention!" The voice of the one the women nicknamed the devil of Mukden. Immediately, some of the women began to shake, their eyes wide with fear. She bit the inside of her cheek as the commander stepped in through the open doors. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Seedy eyes drifted across the still maruta, faces ranging in color and size. How lucky was he to be in the midst of such fortune? So many different body shapes. Textures of hair, lengths, and limb height. 

Licking his teeth, he smirked as his eyes came across one. She curiously didn't tremble or shake. Interesting. She was short and small. Malnutrition hallowed her cheeks and eyes. What healthy curve there used to be had started to be chipped away. And yet it didn't diminish her beauty. In fact, it intrigued him even more. Smooth honey-colored skin. Lips plump. Cracked. But indeed very biteable. Especially that bottom one. Her hair was in a wild primitive state, frazzled untamed curls pulled back with a piece of cloth. His feet led him past the other rats, insignificant. Standing directly in front of her, he grinned as he watched the muscle in her jaw tighten. 

"What is your name?" He asked in smooth silky Japanese.

"Do you care what my name is?" She replied, keeping her eyes level with his chest. Laughing, he sneered, lips quirked up at the ends like a cheshire. 

"This place hasn't completely gotten rid of your defiance." He lifted a finger and lifted her chin upward, bringing her gaze to his. 

"Since you won't give me your name I will name you." After a short while, he spoke again. 

"Dog." Her eyes grew hard and he now gripped her chin. 

"If I didn't have enough on my plate today, I'd have fun with you." Letting her go, he took one step back from her and eyed her from head to toe. 

"I know just where to send you....little impassioned puppy. Someplace where the defiance and rebellion will be squeezed out of you until you're nothing but a broken little shell." Grabbing her arm, he began to drag her towards the door, ignoring her sudden screams and protests. 

"Ianfu." Two men took her from him and took her kicking and screaming out of the barracks into a separate building. Full of men, they watched as they shoved her down on the ground. 

"Ah, a new one?"

"Has she been broken in?"

"She's different. Darker than the other ones." Grabbing her by her hair, the man knelt down and pressed his lips against her ear. 

"As of today, you will serve the great Empire of Japan with your body until the day you die." Letting her go, he stood. 

"Has Matsuda returned yet?"

"Mm. He's just getting off the deployment truck."

"Takahata wants her to go to him."

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"As newly promoted officer it is. You have no say Seiki. Have fun with the others. This one goes to him." The thousand of eyes it seemed that stared at her, slipping like fingers underneath her clothes. Tongues that licked lips, barely controlled lust in narrow eyes. Teeth grinned, like cats. Like beasts. 

"Ah, Matsuda." She kept her head down, not enough gumption to face the eyes. 

"The commander has gifted you with a promotion treat."

"That is?" The voice of the man was cold and hard... unemotional and unfeeling. 

"A war bride. She's yours until we win the war." 

"Take her to my quarters." Hands grabbed her and she began to scream again as they took her off again, deeper and deeper into the pit of hell it seemed until they shoved her into a living quarter. Spacious, private. The sound of boots entering made her freeze and she balled up her fists. Not this again. She'd seen women die because of it...of this. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. 

Young girls...some barely thirteen or fourteen years of age... beaten...raped repeatedly...sometimes thirty times a day...thirty different men... till their insides ripped apart and their outsides swelled and bruised so much the pain became unbearable. Then and only then did she begin to tremble, tears welling up in her eyes. She....she'd kill herself before she let that happen to her. She'd personally ask this son of a bitch to shoot her dead before letting him violate her. 

"Do you speak English?" The startling deepness of the male voice sent chills down her spine. Swallowing, she gave a nod. That was different. Most of the ones she'd encountered did not know enough English to count to two. But this one was fluent, with nearly no accent at all. 

"Do you know why you're here?"

"You brought me here to die." The boots grew closer until they stopped right in front of her. The man knelt down. He had long legs. 

"Where are you from?"

"Does it matter?" 

"It doesn't no. Nor do I really care." The harshness of his words cut into her. Something about his attitude annoyed the hell out of her. 

"Look at me."

"No."

"I won't ask again." 'Or what?' almost slipped out but she bit her tongue to quiet herself. Slowly, she lifted her head. At once, he grew slack, mouth open and eyes wide. Likewise, the man she envisioned was not who knelt before her. Not a stranger. Not a brute pig eager to make her human flesh his meal. 

"B-Beatrice?" Eyes filling with tears, she clenched her jaw. No way... this wasn't happening.... how was this happening? 

"How the hell did you end up he-"

"I thought you didn't care." She shot back smoothly, watery eyes growing indignant. It was his turn to tighten his jaw and he didn't say another word as he stood. She watched as he sat down at his newly provided desk and bent over to unlace his boots. 

"At ease. No harm will come to you." He answered, tone hard and flinching. 

"I don't believe you." He chose not to answer, standing up to unbutton his uniform jacket. Placing it over the back of his chair, he quietly grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and slipped it into his mouth. Lifting eyes briefly to settle on her, he dropped them once more as he struck a match, the light from the fire burning up the paper and tobacco. The sight of him made her heart twist painfully in her chest and she blinked the tears back. God, it was really him. He was here...he was back... but...but-

"If I wanted to, I could strip you right now and take you as many times as I wanted." 

"You'd really entertain the thought?" That characteristic quietness of his swallowed the room and he took another drag of his cigarette. 

"I might." 

"I'd fight you until my last breath then. Know that." He seemed humored and blew out thin cloudy smoke. 

"The chances of you succeeding in fighting me are very slim." 

"I didn't say I had to win. I just said I would fight. Winning doesn't matter."

"Neither does dying apparently." She silenced herself as a long trail of misty white smoke dissipated across his face. 

"If you refuse to stay here, I could always trade you to one of the other men vying for you." 

"You wouldn't dare."

"I wouldn't?" Knowing better than to call his bluff, she drew her fingers up into fists, digging the nails into her palms. 

"You're different than the last time I saw you..." She said quietly, letting her eyes drift across him. Indeed, it seemed the youth had been sucked out of his face and in its place was a person she'd never seen before. Like night and day, the person who came into her dressing room those years ago seemed to have vanished. 

"We both didn't expect to meet again this way. Or at all." He replied, taking yet another inhale of his nicotine. 

"And here we are." She wasn't sure she could call the slightest quirk movement of his lip upward as a smirk but just as quickly as she'd seen it it was gone. 

"You might not like it but here is the safest place you could be. If I were you, I would take advantage of it." Snuffing out his cigarette he sighed. 

"It seems fate wills this reunion. I'll allow it." He began to unbutton his shirt forcing her eyes downward.

"You will be at my side should I leave the quarters. We will share baths. And should I be deployed, you will not be allowed to leave this place until I return." 

"That sounds like slavery." 

"Call it what you want. But I call it survival." Turning to face her, he lifted his shirt up and over his head. 

"Think about your options and ponder them well. I'll give you 24 hours to make your decision." She bit her lip, damning her eyes as they slipped down his exposed chest and muscular midsection. There was once a time when the very sight of him like this was only a dream...a fantasy in her mind. He went to go stand at a small face bowl and she licked her lips. 

They weren't smitten strangers anymore. The moment of brief but intense love born to a night of jazz and sweet soft kisses had long since passed. Now, who stood before her was a callous calculated murderer, and she a newly appointed sex slave by force. It would be in their best interest to play the cards right. It would be in their best interest to use each other up in order to survive the game. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Alas, here we are to the second teaser hehe. Our love birds have reunited once more. That r*pe scene with Bea was RRRRRROOOOUUUUUGGGHHHH. I actually was going back and forth on if I even wanted to have that happen to her. Originally, in my dream she remained a virgin until the end of the war. However, I decided that while that was nice, it's not historically accurate. Nine times of ten, she would have suffered this fate being in the POW camp. It's safe to say that every woman and young girl that inhabited these camps at one point or another was violated. It hurt me to write my Queen Bea going through this suffering. 

Moment of silence for every woman and young girl who was raped and murdered by IJ Army. 

Kay, let's talk about Ichiro and Bea. They didn't ever think they would see each other again. Fate brought them back together (I did hehe I'm fate LOL) How painful it must be to love your enemy...LITERALLY. They love each other and hate that they do...it's sad that they are so conflicted and torn between loyalties to their countries and their hearts. 

That's all I have for now hehe.  I will see you all soon. (hopefully, fingers crossed) 

Thank you for taking the time to read this body of work and go through this journey with me hehe. I appreciate every single one of you. 

Till next time, 

God bless and have a great week.

DL~

 

Pictures: 

"Bea and Ichiro"

Sota Fukashi as Mistuhide Takahashi (27) 

Aida Overton Walker as Ruby (23) 

はち  by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


hachi 


eight 

 

He was unable to sleep and after tossing and turning for hours, decided to get up. She laid across from him in another bunk, her back facing the wall. Her arms wrapped around herself and at the smallest movement, they popped open. They stared at one another in the darkness. She watched him get up and go to his desk, her eyes on him as he lit a cigarette. 

    “I told you I wouldn’t harm you. Go to sleep.” 

    “Go to hell.” Flipping on a small desk light, he turned to lean back against his desk, eyes surveying her. With a huff,  she sat up on her bed. 

    “How the hell did we end up like this?”

    “Your guess is as good as mine.” He replied, blowing out smoke. Sighing, he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

    “All those times my brother warned me to stay away from you…I never listened.” 

    “That makes two of us.” She sighed and covered her face with her palms. 

    “Even now, we’re not listening.” 

    “In here, you have a choice. I’m giving you an opportunity to decide your fate.” 

    “You want me to thank you?”

    “No. I want you to choose wisely Beatrice.” It had been so long since she’d heard his voice. Cold then, now it was frigid and biting. The way he said her name, with a smooth powerful rasp sent chills down her spine. The feelings she thought had disappeared for him slammed back into her with an aggressive force. She watched him smash the butt of the cigarette into an ashtray and run fingertips through what appeared to be freshly buzzed hair. 

    “I expect you to answer by morning.” As he came around to sit on the edge of the bed, she blurted out a question without thinking. 

    “What happened to you?” Those intensely irresistible eyes of his lifted and once again, they were in a staring match. For the briefest of moments, the memory of being in her dressing room played in her head like a moving picture. He’d looked at her with those bewitching eyes of his the same as now. Though mostly silent, he had this uncanny ability to command the room. She’d be lying if she said his masculine energy hadn’t excited her both in heart and body. It had been the way he had easily made her feel so small as he towered over her, leaning in to take what he wanted. A kiss, her first kiss, and it had tasted like heaven. Surprisingly soft, his lips. Smooth and silky, his tongue. He’d had more than one drink that night. Citrus, spice, and brine from the vodka. Sweeter vanilla, oak, and caramel from bourbon. All of it had tasted so good. 

     He broke the eye contact at once and she struggled to swallow, damning her watering mouth.   

    “I left boyhood behind.” She was quiet as he continued, 

    “What happened two years ago between you and I…It was foolish and it should have never happened.” She tried to conceal it but hurt flashed across her features. 

    “We are in our respective places now.” 

    “I guess we are. ” His pounding heart threatened to ruin his entire stance.… Ignoring her, he got into bed and turned away from her, eyes blankly staring at the wall. 

 

*** 

 

    When the sun began to rise in the sky, he rose with it. She slept, though her brow was worried. Throughout the night, she had tossed and turned and finally fell asleep a little over two hours ago. Swallowing thickly, he stepped forward, enough that he stood above her. Leaning down some, he reached out to skim the delicate skin of her brow but hesitated. Inhaling a deep breath, he balled up his fingers into fists. What was he doing?

    She roused not, the small puffs of warm air against his forearm signaling deep sleep. The warmth from her skin took the chill from his fingertips and he wanted to warm his mouth with her lips, the kissable heart-shaped forms opened slightly to allow air in. Everything about her confused him and he didn’t like it. Frankly, it pissed him off. For a time, he’d been strong, his mind on matters of war and loyalty. And then yesterday happened and… here he was. Struggling not to kiss her awake. As he said, he didn’t like it. At all. 

    Leaving the private dormitory, he locked the door behind him. Stooping to tie his boots, he sniffed and began to head out for morning drills. Brisk air hit his bare arms and he felt a slight chill go through him as he came into the group of soldiers.  

    “Attention!” He called, causing the soldiers to assume the appropriate position. Coming to face the group of about 15 or so enlisted soldiers, he spoke again. 

    “At ease.” The small platoon extended their legs outward at once in a uniform fashion, hands firmly behind their backs. 

    “We have new faces I see.”

    “Yes sir!”

    “Step forward if you are newly enlisted.” 

    “Sir!”  Four or five fresh-faced soldiers took a step forward, eyes straight ahead as he approached them, hands behind his back. 

    “State your name.” He ordered one who stiffened up at his sharp gaze. Almost immediately, the boy began to sweat. 

    “Shoichi Okada, sir.” 

     “Place of origin.” 

    “Saori, Aichi Prefecture, sir.” 

    “Why have you joined our Army?” The boy looked nervous and swallowed so hard he heard it. 

    “Because I want to serve our Emperor.” A typical answer. An acceptable one. A more appropriate answer that he would’ve believed was if he’d said his father made him. Letting his eyes fall onto the next one, he tightened his jaw. Okada wouldn’t last long. 

    “You.” The next soldier stood at attention. 

    “Sir,”

    “Name.”

    “Teruo Yamakawa. Kushibiki, Tsururoka, Yamagata Prefecture. I joined because I was bored being at home.” Gaze steely, he bore them into the young man’s eyes and he dared not look back, instead, he looked past him, fingers still stiff in salute. A curt nod of approval was all he got as he moved on. He decided not to make a fuss about him not awaiting his orders. He paid attention, listened well, and was honest. Perhaps, he’d make it. Stepping firmly in front of the last couple of new recruits, he turned to face the long stretch of the track ahead. 

    “Newly enlisted, come to the front. All others fall behind them.”

    “Sir!” Doing as they were told, they assumed positions. 

    “We’ll start with stretching and two laps around the track. Upon starting, Head of the line, sound off.”

    “Sir!” 

*** 

 

    The bed she laid on was surprisingly comfortable and it beat the bug-infested mat she’d been laying on just a day ago. At the thought, she scratched her leg and dug clawed fingers into the sheets. Bringing her eyes away from the wall, she sat up with a sigh. Her feet had grown antsy and she needed to get up and do something. She wasn’t used to laying down for so long. Her routine of being up before the crack of dawn had been beaten into her and it wasn’t just something she could shake. 

    Placing her feet on the cold floor, she sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. The past 24 hours were a blur and she wasn’t sure how she felt about any of it. Eyes taking in the ample room, quirks of his structured and methodical personality looked back at her. The icy coolness of the decor. His ashtray was placed in a way that it had almost perfect symmetry with the rest of the desk. A small vertical clothing rack, neatly arranged in color and size his uniform shirts, pants, and freshly polished boots. It was clear that he valued order and organization. Placing her hands into the palms of her hands, she cursed quietly. She knew the Good Lord had a sense of humor but this was far from funny. “Think about your options and ponder them well. I’ll give you 24 hours to make your decision.”

    He knew when he said it what choice she’d make. The only reason she’d ever consider was Ruby. She let her hands down and her fingers began to pick at the skin on the back of it. But then, she knew what lay ahead for her should she tell him no. Not even Ruby would be able to save her. As much as she hated to admit it, this cold emotionless room was the safest place in the whole camp. For what price, Bea? What price will he require you to pay? If he somehow reneged on his whole ‘I won’t hurt you’ promise and demanded more…physical favors… could she do it? 

    The door being unlocked made her jump away from her thoughts and she froze as he stepped in. Stiffly, she watched as he closed the door behind him. For a moment, they didn’t say anything…they just stared at one another. 

    “Have you made your decision?” He asked, breaking up the tense silence with the question.     

    “Guess you can say that.” She replied anxiously, those fingers picking at her skin again. Nothing she did went unnoticed and his eyes left her hands and drifted upward to her face. 

    “Speak then.” Her jaw tightened and she damned every word that was about to come out of her mouth. Lips dry and chapped, she tried licking them before answering, 

    “I’ll stay.” At her declaration, he showed indifference, taking off his cap. Placing it on one of the wooden knobs on the back of his chair, he leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. 

    “I imagine you’re hungry so I’ll arrange for something to be brought to you. In about an hour or so, you are to bathe and groom yourself well. When you are dressed, we will leave the barracks.”

    “Where are we going?” She asked, expression apprehensive. 

    “My Captain wishes to meet the women awarded to us.” 

    “Awarded? Abducted is more like it.”    

    “As he will see you today, you must look and behave your best. You represent me when you leave this room.” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and looked away from him. 

    “I’ll return shortly with some food.” And like that, the list of orders had been given and once again she was left alone, the door locked shut behind him. The silence was deafening and it coaxed tears to rise to the corner of her eyes. And soon, it comforted her as she began to shed those tears. 

 

*** 

 

 

 

    He returned with an acceptable meal of freshly steamed rice, fish, and some pickled vegetables. Miso soup and shoyu for dipping. A nice hot kettle of Sencha had been brewed at his request. Opening the door, he stepped in and shut the door behind him. Placing the tray on his desk, he began to separate portions onto two plates. 

    “Are you allergic to fish?” He asked quietly, scooping rice out of the bowl onto her plate. 

    “No.” Her monotone answer. Finishing up, he soon took his share and went to sit on his bed. Lifting hashi to his mouth, he watched as she stared at the food, having not made a budge or move. 

    “Beatrice,” That made her eyes meet his. 

    “Eat.” Annoyance flashed up onto her face. 

    “Stop ordering me around. I’m not a dog.”

    “Stop acting like one.” He replied, taking a quiet sip of his tea. Pushing herself up from the bed, she slowly approached the desk and stared down at the food. With shaky fingers, she gripped the plate tight and went back to her little spot on the bed, cautiously lifting the spoon of rice to her mouth. She ate it slowly, moving it around in her mouth as if to test if it was real. Realizing it wasn’t in any way tampered with, she soon nibbled on some small pieces of fish. It humored him to watch her eat skittishly, afraid the food was poisoned.

     Finishing up, he drank the last of his tea. More of this and perhaps she’d start to gain weight. It was obvious that she was malnourished. That he could see from her arms, neck, face, and legs. As she now represented him, he couldn’t let her continue to look like some wounded stray animal. 

    When she was done with what she could eat and drink, he hastily finished what she didn’t and grabbed both plates and utensils. A knock at the door caused him to turn. Trading the soldier the plates for extra soap, towels, and clothing for her, he closed the door once more. Giving them to her shocked person, he began to turn on the water, pleased in the hot water that sprung forth from the bottom. 

    “Let’s get ready.” He said with a glance, starting to unbutton his uniform. 

 

*** 

 

 

    She didn’t think he had been serious when he said they would share baths. Crouching down low in the water, she watched him wash his hair with a bar of soap. How wrong she was. Too many places to look and not…look. Too many stimuli at one time made her brain hurt. Trying to avoid glancing at his very naked body and failing…even the splash of water and soapy bubbles that spread out as he descended underwater unnerved her. What if he had his eyes open down there? Coming back up he lifted his hands to his face, revealing lean yet sinewy biceps. 

    “Hurry up Beatrice.” He said with a slight turn of his head, those sharp eyes cutting into her. Swallowing her heart back down, she lifted a shaky hand and accepted the soap he extended to her. Dipping down beneath the water, she curled up into a ball and hugged herself.

     When she’d come up, he was gone, the partition that had once been in front of the window now behind her, shielding her from his visage. Feeling nervous, she began to lather her dirty matted hair. Using the slip from the suds, she began to work out the knots and tangles. Tears welled up in her eyes and for a moment, she felt thankfulness wash over her. It had been six months since she’d last had a bath. She knew she had smelled like a rotten corpse. Now…now she felt like a human again. Quietly sobbing, she let the slick bar slide bubbles down across her arms and neck, lifting it to her face. 

    When she decided her hair was as detangled as it was going to get, she carefully stepped out. A provided towel to dry herself with and she gripped it closed tightly, peeking out from around the partition. He had his back to her, sitting at his desk. Sheepishly, she scurried to her bed. There laying on it was an army green dress, complete with pleats, matching buttons, belt, and two decoratively sewed patch pockets. To some, it would be considered extremely plain but to her, it was the most stylish thing she’d seen since coming to Mukden. A pair of plain round-toe flats laid neatly at the bottom. 

    Wasting no time, she lifted the towel to dry her hair which had retained surprising length considering she hadn’t put a comb to it in some years. Dressing in the provided dress, she began to flat twist each side of her head, the braid tails long enough thankfully to tuck them together. So focused on her task, she hadn’t paid attention to the eyes that bore into her, watching her movements. Once done, however, she smoothed down the dress fingers gliding over the pretty decorative pockets and lifted her eyes to see his on her. 

    He said nothing as he got up, lifting the cap to hide his still-damp hair. Slipping into her shoes, she began to follow him as his long confident strides led him to the door. Heart pounding in her chest, light of another kind blinded her as the thick heavy door was pulled ajar, leaving an open path for her.

End Notes:

 

A/N: HEY FAM FAM! GUESS WHAT HEHE. I MADE 2-0-0 SUBSCRIBERS OVER ON WATTPAD! *SOBS AND DANCES FOR JOY* I'm so honored and thankful for all the support, love, comment on all three of my platforms but coming from a site that I almost NEVER wanted to upload to I'm glad I did. I almost didn't jump into Wattpad because of it's reputation (still holding that by the way LOL) of mindless kpop imagines and idol fics lol. But as I've started to delve into the world of Wattpad, I've come to know that there are AMAZING writers there. Just gotta dig lol. 

Here we have Ichiro being the good ole a-hole. I really try not to get annoyed with him lol. He's a work in progress I know and years of indoctrination is not going to be undone overnight. But GOOD LORD SIR. WHY YOU SO DIFFICULT. YOU LIKE HER SHE LIKE YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT. DAMN LOL. Whew kay I feel better lol. My heart felt for Bea in the bath. Imagine not washing your body in months y'all. How filthy you would feel. I'm happy that Ichiro gave her the opportunity to feel human again.

In celebration of 200 subbies on Wattpad, I've written a whopping four chapters today LOL. (I may or may not have gone to work so lol) Anyhoo, enjoy and happy reading hehe. 

DL~

 

pictures:

Bea's dress:

It's the one in the middle (the third lady from left)

Her hair:

 

by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


kyuu 


nine 

 

     “Tell me Matsuda, how are you liking your rank?” 

    “It’s satisfactory.” His answer.

    “But, you want more.” Lips smirked slightly and fingers lifted a cup of wine to his mouth. 

    “Greedy bastard.” 

    “You have to admit, Matsuda is one of the best officers on our team.” The group of men agreed and chuckled as they talked of his accomplishments. 

    “I heard of how you destroyed the enemy at Bairoko. Some of the men of your platoon are alive today because of you.” The compliment came from his Captain, forcing him to place the cup back on his saucer and bow his head in reverence.

    “I am not worthy of your praise, Sir.” The older man, his Superior, sat at the head of the table stroking his mustache. 

    “Rumor has it that you’re the son of Yukio Matsuda. Is it true?” He bowed his head lower. 

    “Yes, sir. Yukio Matsuda is my father.” A satisfied grumble from the man made his heart thump against his chest. 

    “Very good. The greatness of the father has passed to the son. You give him honor with your service.”

    “I am deeply humbled, sir.” Lifting his head, he sat straight and rigid once more, hands reaching for his tea. 

    “Perhaps you are sullied by your rank.” Lifting his eyes to the shrewd ones of the aging man, he paused his hand. 

    “Sir?”

    “A man, blessed with good looks and brains, connected to the great and good God of our Land, surely rank of the second lieutenant is measly compared to the more esteemed rank of first.”

    “I am pleased with whichever rank you see fit to give me, sir.” He didn’t argue that and lunch continued on pleasantly. 

    “I have also heard that you have in your possession a rare woman of sorts.” 

    “Yes. A Negro woman from America.” 

    “Interesting. The Negro is a prime subject Nakakawa has shared with me. Many promoted soldiers wanted to be awarded it but your reputation was one I couldn’t ignore.”  He showed no outward emotion to the comment and continued eating. 

    “I wish to see all of the generosity given by our Great Emperor.” 

    “Sir!” He and the other soldiers stood and at his standing, saluted him. The doors to the elegant dining hall opened and in filed the women. All different in appearance, size, and stature, they were made to stand in a single-file line, the five or six of them. Captain Onada advanced upon them like a calculated predator, hands neatly folded behind him. Lifting to take the white face of one of the captured Lithuanian whores, he examined her, making her open her mouth and smile. To the Burmese, Chinese and Korean one he did the same.

     When he got to Beatrice, however, he did something different. He lifted a hand to her hair, feeling the texture of it. Taking hold of her face, he rubbed her skin as if to see if her color would come off. When the pretty golden brown did not, he made a sound of surprise. She stood stiff, her eyes looking down. He poked and pinched her lips, making her yank her face away from him. Chuckling, he glanced back at him, who had not broken attention. 

    “Feisty one, hm?” He didn’t answer. 

    “I wonder how you punish her.” Dropping a hand, he groped her, making her shout. Covering her chest with her arms, she turned her body away from him, eyes now insolent and enraged. 

    “How did you come by this one Matsuda?” He asked, grabbing her arm. Yanking her back to face him, he ran his tongue across his smiling teeth. 

    “She was a performer in Shanghai’s entertainment district.”

    “Is that so? She certainly has the body for it.” A hand fondled her backside, bringing a few choice words from her. Deciding he was done playing with her, he stepped back from her and turned to face him. 

    “At ease.” At once, he relaxed, feet slightly apart and arms behind his back. 

    “I asked you here for an important reason, Matsuda.” 

    “That is, sir?”

    “I want to give you another promotion.” The other officers kept their eyes straight ahead but no doubt they’d be talking about it amongst themselves later. 

    “I am not worthy, sir.” 

    “I’ll determine that. Not you.” Turning lusty eyes back towards the Negro whore, he smirked to himself. Knowing Matsuda, he wouldn’t have anything or anyone humiliate him. She appeared well put together and clean. Out of all of them, she looked the best. Her dress perfectly pleated and showed no signs of wrinkle. Though she wore no hose, her skin appeared healthy. Even her thick coarse hair had somehow managed to be pulled up into an appropriate style. It fascinated him to look at it. 

    “Approach.” The man wasted no time in doing so and soon he stood behind him, ready for the next command. Standing off to the side, he and the other commanding officers and personnel all gathered around. Now, the woman looked justifiably uneasy and it made him want to laugh. How fearful these little mice were. 

    “To receive rank as First Lieutenant, you must do this one thing.” 

    “Sir,” His voice was confident and sure, unwavering. 

    “Draw your weapon and aim at the woman.” He withdrew the gun from his holster. At that, her terrified eyes turned to look at him. She looked as if she wanted to say something but fear wouldn’t allow her. How curious that now all of a sudden she was mute. Lifting the weapon, he aimed it at her, hand, arm, fingers steady. 

    “Take off safety.” He ordered and the click confirmed its completion. She’d begun to visibly shake, her small hands clenched into fists. Her eyes had started to grow teary. 

    “If I ordered you to shoot her, would you?” 

    “With no hesitation, sir.” Several of the upper echelons chuckled. 

    “She means that little to you, Matsuda? This…Negro of yours?” 

    “The victory of our Great Nation is the most important to me. All other matters mean nothing.” 

    “Then, should I let these good sirs have their own taste of her? I imagine she does please you well.” He didn’t speak but then he didn’t have to. His tightened jaw said enough. 

    “Stand down and withdraw your weapon.” He did so and resumed at ease. 

    “Very good. I am glad to see a real soldier in my midst. Others are only here by way of favors from their fathers.”Turning to the Korean servant standing by the door, he ordered him to take the women away and he did so swiftly. Resuming his seat, his eyes gleamed proudly as he took the young man in sight. 

    “Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted to First Lieutenant.” 

 

*** 

 

 

    The ride back was thick with tension, a tight coil of unreleased emotions. They sat in the back seat, her body completely turned away from him. She stared out of the window the entire time. Pulling into the camp’s long extended drive, the air changed into something sinister and dark. When the driver stopped in front of his block, he waited patiently until they both had gotten out before heading on his way. Still, silence clung to their throats as they entered the building. All hell broke loose once they were safely behind the thick heavy door to his quarters. 

    She hadn’t said a word as she turned, violently slapping him across the face. The force of it set the entire half of his face on fire and he lifted furious eyes upward as she panted, her own filled with tears. Turning on her foot, she began to walk away from him but he grabbed her, yanking her back towards him roughly. 

    “How dare you…” He breathed, his voice full of gruff fury. 

    “How dare I? How dare YOU.” She shouted, pushing against him. 

    “You tried to kill me….you really…tried…to kill me…” She gasped, now the tears letting loose down her cheeks. 

    “If I wanted to, I would have pulled the trigger.”

    “And why didn’t you? Why didn’t you shoot me Ichiro?” 

    “Calm yourself and stop crying. You’re going to piss me off.” He said, shoving her away from him, making her fall slightly against her bed. 

    “You’re a pitiful piece of shit. You know that?” She hissed, lifting herself to stand up. 

    “Beatrice,” Said in warning but she didn’t heed it.  

    “What the hell did you bring me here for huh? At least out there, those maggots are honest about what they want. If they want to fuck, they fuck. If they want to kill, rape and beat, they do. And then there’s you. You don’t know what you want.” He had reached for a cigarette but paused his hand. 

    “You don’t know whether you want to hate me or love me. Right? Did your daddy brainwash you that much you can’t even make decisions for yourself?” He turned and grabbed her by the neck, smashing her back against the wall. 

    “Shut your mouth.” He seethed, anger making his voice throaty and harsh. She dug nails into his forearm as he choked her, finding relief as he let go of her throat and gripped her jaw tightly. 

    “If you speak about him again, I will cut the tongue out of your mouth. Do you understand?” Breathing hard through flared nostrils, she for once stayed silent. Letting go of her, he went back to his cigarette and brought it to his mouth. Striking a match, he inhaled the nicotine almost immediately, dark intense eyes lifting to her watery enraged ones. 

    “Takahashi was right. I should have fucked you in that dressing room.” He said, blowing white cloudy smoke in front of him, misting his face for a moment. 

    “It would have put me out of my fucking misery.” She was breathing so hard it sounded like she was gasping.

    “If you’re going to stay here, we have some rules to establish.” He took another inhale before speaking again.

    “Rule number one: don’t talk about my father. If you do again, I will kill you.” She stayed silent as he continued, 

    “Rule number two: show me respect when you talk to me. I’m not your friend. Rule number three: when I tell you to be quiet, listen.” 

    “Rule number four, continue to walk around evading the truth.” She shot back, eyes defiant. He continued to take long almost thoughtful drags on the now dying tobacco stick before snuffing it out. 

    “Your ego won’t let you admit what we both know.”

    “And that is?”

    “You fell in love with me two years ago.” To her surprise, he began to laugh, a sound she’d never heard before. Soft at first, soon a loud humored guffaw. Were it not a serious moment, she might have even joined him. He approached her again, making her stiffen up against the wall. But he didn’t make a move to touch or grab her. Lifting his hands above her head, he trapped her inside of his arms, eyes humored still. 

    “Is that what you’re calling it, Bea? Love?” 

    “Yes. That’s what it’s called.” Her breath hastened as he pressed his nose against her, softly inhaling her. 

    “In another life, perhaps. But not now. Not here.” He spoke, voice now quiet, his breath warm against her cheek. 

    “War has no place for love. What keeps you and I alive is blood and death. That’s what allows us to breathe another day.” Her heart threatened to come out of her chest as he pulled away from her, his hands and arms following. 

    “I make no apologies for what happened today. Now, you know where this ‘love’ of ours stands.” Grabbing his hat and placing it upon his head, he left her suddenly, allowing her to finally crumple to the floor and weep uncontrollably. 

End Notes:

A/N: 

whew this was weighty. I had this chapter in my head yesterday at work so I KNEW I had to write it haha. Man, imagine the man you love putting a gun to your head. No hesitation. That's frightening. This chapter I DID NOT like Ichiro at ALL. Like at ALL at ALL. Such a jerk. He annoys my whole soul. Making my Queen Bea cry. I wanna punch him lol. Just SAY YOU LOVE HER AND GO. SAY YOUR CONFUSED AND WE'D ALL ACCEPT THAT. But him fighting it.. fighting and hurting her in his confusion... it's painful for him too quiet as it's kept. He doesn't particularly enjoy doing it. He just... doesn't know any other way? Yeah. Whew. Let's go to the next chapter shall we? 

DL~

じゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


juu 


ten


* GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIVISECTION*

 

Grandpa had always been like that then. Tough on the exterior. Trying to act as if he wasn’t something or didn’t feel something. But she knew he did feel. He knew then that he indeed loved her. But Grandma was right. He had too much pride… too much ego to admit it. It was something that could never be. Something that never should have happened. Of course, the admittance of his feelings would threaten everything for him, wouldn’t it? 

    “Sami?” Looking up from the journal entry, she found Mere smiling down at her. 

    “Hm?”

    “Reading that book again?” Smiling to herself, she put it down. 

    “Yeah, it’s one you can’t put down.” 

    “What’s it about?” 

    “Oh, just some old war stories and memoirs and stuff.”

    “It looks like a real journal, wow. Whoever published that did a heck of a job.” Agreeing, she tucked the journal away from her into the side of the couch. 

    “Summer’s coming to a close soon. Can you believe it?” Mere sat back against the couch with a sigh. 

    “Summers here are never that long anyway. And now we’re in for a brutal winter.” 

    “Hm.” 

    “Hey, Sami?”

    “Hm?”

    “Are you sad?” Grandpa. Swallowing, she tried her best to answer as lighthearted as she could. 

    “Do you think Grandpa is sad?”

    “I don’t know… I mean… if I only had six weeks to live I’d be trying to get out here and go do stuff.” 

    “Yeah but he’s done a lot. Maybe he wants to be at home and relax ya know?” 

    “I guess.” 

    “Grandpa’s his usual self and as long as he’s okay then I’ll be okay.” Accepting the answer, Mere pat her leg. 

    “I’m gonna make some watermelon skewers.”

    “Ooh, yummy.” 

    “Call ya when lunch is done.”

    “‘Kay Mere. Thanks!” Laying her head back against the couch, she closed her eyes. It tore her up inside. To know that her grandpa was dying a death that he thought he deserved. It broke her heart that he felt so alone. But then, it brought her the tiniest bit of comfort knowing that in the way of fate, soon they would be reunited. 

*** 

 

1945 

Early February

Mukden 

 

 

    The sound of a scraping knife sounded in the quiet room. There, he sat in a chair, head leaned back against her chest. The scraping had produced a melody of sorts and after a while, it would stop before the stainless steel blade was taken away and dipped in cold water. And like that the blade would cut the growing scruff away from his face. He sat with his eyes closed, body language one of contentment and of being lax. But she, however, was stiff, her muscles locked. It had been two weeks since the incident at the Captain’s manor and things hadn’t much improved. She didn’t speak to him unless spoken to and all but refused to bathe with him. She ate her meals during the scheduled times and oftentimes felt guilty because of it… being full. She had requested that she be allowed to see Ruby and he had agreed. 

    It had broken her heart to learn that Ruby had been taken to Unit 100 not long after she’d been taken to Ichiro’s quarters. He’d escorted her inside and stood by her the entire time as she and her friend tried to catch up, hand resting lightly on his weapon. 

 

*** 

 

    “Ruby! My God….” The beautiful woman she’d once planted seeds with was now unrecognizable. It was obvious that she was pregnant and her hair had been shorn. At her voice, she looked up from her spot on the cold concrete. 

    “Bea?” Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded, slipping her hands in between the bars towards her. Ruby was weak but she managed to get on all fours. Slowly, she made her way towards her until their hands intertwined. She had signs of a recent battering, her eyes still slightly puffy. Her lips smiled though and she even showed her teeth. 

    “My sweet sister…you look well.” She complimented, letting her eyes fall on him who stood next to her. 

    “Looks like the bastard is taking care of you.” He moved not and said nothing, eyes just drifting down to look at her. 

    “Ruby…how the hell did you end up in here…” She breathed, clutching her hands tight. 

    “Some Jap son of a bitch wanted me to suck his cock and I refused him. So, he brought me here.” At that, his eyes resumed their view of the wall behind her. 

    “They did a number on me Bea. I ain’t gon lie to you. They beat me real bad and all of em had a turn on me.” 

    “My God in Heaven…”

    “I was in here with three other girls. They killed every last one of em. Now, I’m the last one.” Shaking her hands, she vehemently disagreed, her voice full of anger and disbelief. 

    “No. Not you Ruby. Not you. You ain’t gon die in here like this…” She appreciated her friend’s passion but her eyes had grown resigned. 

    “I miss my husband anyhow Bea. God told me they killed him long ago. Wouldn’t I be a bad wife not to wanna be with him?” To that, she couldn’t speak and hung her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

    “Hey now, don’t cry now sister.” 

    “R-Rub…” 

    “It’s alright. I’m tired of living in this hellhole.”

    “What about the baby?” She asked, grieved. 

    “Figure my baby and me both be set free.” As she wept, Ruby lifted eyes to the soldier standing next to her. 

    “Hey. Jap bastard.” Now she had his attention. 

    “Don’t let her get in here. If you do, I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your days you hear me?” He said nothing but the two of them seemed to reach some kind of agreement in the silence. Extending thin arms out, she hugged her friend. 

    “Do what you must to survive, Bea. If you gotta fuck him, do it. If you gotta suck his dick, do it. Play with him, make him love you… just find a way to survive this place…you hear me?” She whispered into her ear before letting her go. 

    “You ain’t meant to die in here, Bea.” Gripping her hands, she smiled once more and nodded at the kiss she pressed against them. Taking her hands, she put them on her belly for a little while before the animal in clothes told her it was time to go. 

 

*** 

 

    The next day, Ruby had been murdered. She’d been taken to a surgical room, surrounded by a group of new medical interns. She’d been brought in naked, notes and observations written in journals about her form, her body, her distended pregnant belly. Ordered to lie on the table, she for a moment looked at all the young faces, surrounded by old heads, some of them that had inflicted torture upon torture on her. 

    “Before I die, let me say that each and every one of you miserable shits are going straight to hell when you die. I hope you all burn for eternity.” Then, she obeyed, laying on the table. At first, it was quiet, and she looked up at the blinding white light until tears began to slip down the sides of her face. When a man came forward and began to suit up, she watched him and others speak for a while. The old son of a bitch shoved a rag into her mouth and ordered two of the interns to grab her legs and arms. Her heart began to pound in her chest as he reached down to pick up a thin metal blade. 

    At the first initial slice into her flesh, a scream bubbled up out of her that no human should have ever made and she began to thrash and he continued to cut her open, slicing from her sternum down across and under her belly. Taking hands, the surgeon ripped open the chest cavity and further down, split open her stomach, revealing a bloody heap of what appeared to be a child inside. Her screams of agony soon stopped and she fell limp, her blood soaking the sheet underneath her and dribbling out across the floor. 

 

    *** 

 

    Dipping the blade into the water once more, she turned her eyes down at him who waited patiently. It was time now for the neck, his cheeks and shadow of mustache gone. Lifting the small brush, she applied shaving cream to his neck. Tightening fingers on the handle, she tilted his head slightly to the side and began to shave his flesh.

     After hearing about Ruby’s murder, she’d all but shut down. It was like losing her brother all over again. She’d been an innocent woman taken from her husband, her children…and all of them had been viciously murdered at the hands of the Japanese. It enraged her to the point where every time she saw him, thoughts of murder ran through her mind, God help her. Minding how careful she was shaving his jugular, she moved his head to the center. Dipping and cleaning the hair and cream away from the blade, she’d moved it back and was about to shave him but his hand reaching to stop her startled her. Jumping, her eyes widened slightly. He opened his eyes and looked up dead at her. 

    “Your friend. I’m sorry.” 

    “No, you’re not. Don’t pretend you care.”

    “You want to kill me.” It was a simple observed fact and the calm almost casual way he said it infuriated her even more. 

    “If I could, I’d kill every last one of you for taking Ruby away from me. Murdering my brother…you all deserve to die.” He took in her anger and let go of her hand, calmly resting his hands on his lap. 

    “I don’t disagree with you.” The response made her look down at him. 

    “I’ve done a lot of things in this war. Some I’m proud of. Others, I’m not proud of. Things that have made me question my humanity.”

    “You’re not human… you’re an animal.” She hissed, pressing the blade flush up against his Adam’s apple. 

    “I’ll allow you this one time. This one opportunity. It won’t come again.” For the briefest of moments, she entertained the thought of slicing open his neck and letting his blood spill out all over him. 

    “You know what would happen to me. Killing you wouldn’t even be worth it in the end. It wouldn’t bring me my freedom.”

    “Depends on what you classify as freedom.” He said with a sigh and a careful swallow. With a loud sigh, she took hold of his chin and forced his head back right where she wanted it. 

    “Hush and let me finish shaving you.” Clean swipes of the blade now and dip and repeat. 

 

*** 

 

    I knew she wanted to kill me. And at that moment, I couldn’t say that I didn’t deserve it. The whole time, my heart had been pounding and the very real reality that she could in fact slit my throat turned my skin cold. I’d never been to Unit 100 and after visiting Bea’s friend and seeing the misery of the other caged humans I hoped that I never again stepped foot inside.

     Bea’s depression after her friend’s death ignited something inside of me and I hated myself for the way I wanted to cheer her up. I was a walking contradiction. It annoyed me but it didn’t prevent me from doing something anyway. I wanted just for one night to let my guard down again…I wanted to go back to the Oriental Pearl…where inside I was simply Ichiro and she was simply Beatrice. 

*** 

 

    

    When she returned from the crematorium, he watched as she laid the small clay pot of Ruby’s ashes on her nightstand. Standing still, he observed her as she sat and knelt to take off her shoes. 

    “I’ll take my dinner later. I’m not hungry right now.” She said, rubbing her foot. 

    “Accepted.” Sighing, she laid back flat on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

    “When is this damn war going to end…” She said out loud, closing her eyes. But just as soon as she’d closed them, she opened them wide as she felt a leg brush against hers. There he stood at the side of her bed, one of his legs in between hers. The bold position of his body made her sweat. 

    Do what you have to do to survive, Bea. In the full month that she’d been brought here, he’d never been physical with her and she couldn’t lie and say she hadn’t wondered why. The desires of sweaty passionate sessions behind the door of her dressing room had all but passed and now she looked up at him, going back and forth on if it would be worth it to sell him a fantasy. After all, he did admit that he had wanted to rumble and fumble with her back then too. He wanted the same thing I did…he felt the same way I did. 

    In her silence, she’d run it over in her mind.  Seducing him…making him fall in love with her body…and then…then just as he could orgasm, she’d smother him with a pillow… or stab him in the heart. 

    “What are you thinking about so intensely?” He asked, so tall that as he leaned down to hover over her, it appeared as though he was floating. 

    “N-nothing…” She could hear her heartbeat pump into her ears and there it was, a teasing little smirk that set her heart on fire. God, she hated him….hated everything about him. 

    “Don’t lie, Bea.” He breathed, pressing his lips against her temple. One of her reveries started like this…. and it was crazy how smooth it was happening… just like it was meant to be. Licking her lips, she swallowed and lifted her hands upward to his chest and slipped them up around his neck. 

    “It’s… embarrassing. I don’t wanna tell you.” There, the heat of desire darkened his gaze almost immediately and if she were a dog, she’d be panting at the mouth. He moved his leg a little, making her legs come open just a little more. 

    “I’ll keep it safe.” He hushed against her ear lobe, lips poking out to press a light little kiss against it.  

    “I was thinking about our nights at the Oriental Pearl…”

    “Mmhm…” 

    “I miss it…” His nose nudged her own and he withdrew slightly, just enough to look at her. 

    “Good then. We’re going out tonight.” With one last little smirk, he lifted up off of her, leaving her stunned and sweating. 

End Notes:

A/N: This chapter made me legit tear up. I was so close to crying and had to hold it back. The picture that serves as the chapter photo is a exact replica of a 'surgical/examination' room in what was once Unit 731. Unit 731 was the biggest biochemical warfare and human experimentation camp known but smaller ones like Unit 100 also existed all over China and their occupied territories. One of the things that legit gave me chills was reading journal entries of medical professionals describing cutting open pregnant women. No anesthesia was given or used for any of the experiments they conducted... including this surgical procedure. It hurt me to have to bring to Ruby this end but realistically, it's safe to say that it's accurate. I wanted to keep her alive and have her fight the Japanese and be friends with Bea the rest of her life but honestly, it would not have happened. Not there. 

Let's give a moment of silence to all the men, women and children/babies vivisected by Imperial Japanese Army Doctors/surgeons without anesthesia. 

 

Kay, let's talk about Bea's moment of wanting to kill Ichiro. That also I think would be something that would happen... to anybody given the opportunity. Why would you not want to take a chance of revenge? This is a scene that I saw yesterday at work and said yeahhh gotta write that. Ichiro offering her the chance to kill him was POWERFUL. MY GOD. WHEW. 

His inner desires to return to the days where war didn't effect either of them and they could just dance, drink and flirt LOL. That's cute. Whew. Wonder where he's taking her? *cue eyeball emoji*

If you need a breather, I understand. When you're ready, let's go to the next chapter together. 

DL~

じゅういち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


juuichi 


eleven 

 

    They’d left while it was still daylight and all the while the eyes of soldier and prisoner alike stuck to them as they watched him help her into the passenger seat of his new shiny black Buick, a gift complementary from his Captain. Those eyes watched them drive away, exiting the barbed wire iron-wrought gates. The swirling green pastures and hills of the countryside had drawn her attention and he glanced at her once more before focusing entirely on the road. If only for a couple of hours, he wanted to stop wrestling with himself. He wanted for a moment just to forget, drink, and have a good time with a pretty girl.

     He’d gotten his orders. He would be deployed to the island of Iwo Jima within two weeks’ time. Of victory, he was confident but nonetheless, the pre-battle nerves had him jittery. He’d taken her out once last week to be measured at a tailor and unbeknownst to her, had commissioned the making of a dress for her. A dress that she now wore. A pretty canary yellow, it popped brilliantly against her skin tone, bringing a sunny warm glow to her. Small green, red and yellow polka dots made up the fabric. She wore small dusty pink heels, giving him an inward sigh of relief at the sight of her legs and ankles once again in them. To match the color on her feet, he’d had short gloves of the same color made as well and purchased a straw hat adorned with pink flowers. All the colors a the suggestion of the tailor upon seeing her that day. 

    Coming to a stop, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at her. She was simply radiant. She clutched her delicately gloved hands in her lap as she continued to look out of the window. Reaching for her hand, he forced her gaze away from the window finally and their eyes met. She didn’t say anything but her fingers slowly tightened on his as the car once again began to move. 

 

*** 

 

    Don’t trust him, Bea. Don’t do it. By now, it was a never-ending mantra spin wash and repeating in her mind but damn her heart how fast it beat when he looked at her. He had this way of looking at her that made her feel like she was the only woman in the world… like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. What frustrated her was the mixed feelings… the mixed emotions. It angered her. Confused her. Why did it have to be him? Of all people her heart could have chosen why did it have to be a soldier of the Imperial Japanese Army? 

    Biting down into her lip, her teeth stabbed the flesh, pain making the small cut burn. This was the same man who two weeks ago pulled out a gun and aimed it at her. It made no sense… no sense why she couldn’t bring herself to kill him… kill herself…put herself out of this misery. The ride was silent as the familiar views of Shanghai met her and her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Memories of marquee lights, booze, cigarette smoke, and Joe’s laughter played out before her. The sweet sound of Jazz and Big Band…Blues and even Gospel. The sounds of her people now… no more. Passing armored military trucks and personnel, they stopped at a checkpoint. The driver rolled down his window. 

    “State your business.” 

    “I’m escorting First Lt. Matsuda to a dinner, sir.” He handed him his driver’s license and soon a tap on the back window made Ichiro roll down the window. The soldier eyed him, took in his uniform confirming his rank, and glided his eyes over to her. Saluting him, the soldier stood at attention. 

    “Enjoy your evening, sir!” He didn’t reply but saluted him before rolling the window back up as the car continued on. The drive was now a bit tense as she’d withdrawn her hand from him and not squeezed them tight.  

    “Where are we going?” She asked, eying the rickshaw drivers as they ran past them. 

    “Someplace private.” Is all he said, his tone final. They rode for a little while longer before the car pulled up to what looked to be a private estate. Mouth dropping open, she turned to say something but he’d already gotten out and shut the door. Coming to her side, he opened the door and extended a hand. She accepted and allowed help out of the car. The door behind her was shut and soon the car began to drive away. Swallowing, she began to walk up as he’d started ahead of her. Finally catching up to him, she gasped as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they entered through the stone arch entranceway. They met guards who only saluted him, allowing them passage further into the property.  

    Coming up the short stairs, he rapped on the door. Soon, it opened to reveal a Chinese woman, dressed in an elegant qipao. Her red lips smiled at their arrival and she moved aside, welcoming them in. The inside of the house was immaculate and she couldn’t help gasping at the massive indoor waterfall and courtyard. 

    “Welcome First Lt. Matsuda. Your date is beautiful.” Her Mandarin was saccharine and the sound of it made her homesick. 

    “Is it ready?” He asked, ignoring her compliment. 

    “Yes, of course. Everything you requested has been completed.”

    “Good.” The woman led them up the stairs into separate quarters of the home, in a much more European style than before. 

    “Please, enjoy your evening. Dinner will be served on the balcony.” Leaving the two of them alone, she tried to catch her breath as she took in their surroundings. 

    “Make yourself comfortable.” He called ahead of her, leaning against the balcony railing. 

    “Whose house is this? Where are we?” She asked, looking around once again. 

    “You have a way of trying to ruin moments between us don’t you?” He, dare she say, teased, turning humored eyes towards her. 

    “I-I just wanted to know. I have a right to know.” She stuttered, eying her feet. 

    “It’s a friend’s property.” He answered, lifting her chin. 

    “O-oh…” 

    “Relax, Beatrice.” But she couldn’t relax, not as he stood in front of her looking and feeling just as he did back at the Oriental Pearl. He’d chosen to leave his cap in the car, only wearing it upon greeting the military checkpoint. His hair had started to grow past his ears again and he’d taken advantage of the length, smoothing it back with gel. He wore some cologne, possibly the same cologne he’d worn those years ago because the scent of it had her mouth watering. 

    “It’s not the Oriental Pearl but it’ll do. Come, let’s sit.” She let him pull her towards the table. Pulling out her chair, he waited until she sat to seat himself. 

    “Why are you doing this?” She asked, watching him pull out a slim cigarette case. Opening it, he wasted no time lighting it. 

    “Need I a reason?” 

    “So now all of a sudden we’re on a date with absolutely no explanation.” 

    “Isn’t this what you wanted? Did I mishear you?”

    “What?” He blew out smoke and sighed. 

    “You wanted me to be honest about it…the feelings I have for you.” Her heart slammed into her throat. 

    “So here we are.” 

    “I….I don’t understand you.” 

    “What is there to understand?”

    “Put out that damn cigarette so I can see your face!” She quipped, drawing a humored little smirk. 

    “If you want one, just say so.” He quipped back, intentionally blowing the smoke in her direction. Huffing, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Crossed they remained as a servant came to fill their empty glasses with water and place fresh warm bread and butter on the table top. 

    “Stop pouting and uncross your arms.” He ordered as he broke a roll. 

    “Don’t order me around. I’m not one of your little toy soldiers.” He spread a thin layer of creamy whipped butter and ate quietly, those eyes of his stabbing little holes all over her body. 

    “Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.” Finishing the bread, he got up and came to her side. 

    “What are you-” Taking her arms, he broke them apart and forced them down on either side of her. 

    “Ow…” Letting her go, he resumed his seat and lifted his water to take a sip. 

    “I know you have wondered why. Why you.” She did but hell would freeze over before she asked that. 

    “You oppose me.” 

    “I’m…I’m sorry?” At her confounded expression, he laughed for the second time she’d known him, the sound of it both foreign and delightful to her ears. 

    “You don’t listen to a goddamn thing I say. I like that.” 

    “You’re insane.” She reached for her water. 

    “Don’t ask for honesty if you can’t handle it, Bea.” 

    “Whatever.” His voice was smooth and pleasant and that distinct rasp chipped away at her heart piece by piece. With a sigh, she sat back with that trademark purse on her lips. 

    “What drew me to you…besides the fact that everybody told me not to mind you…” 

    “What was it?” He asked, reaching across the table for her hand. 

    “Probably just how you looked at first.” His lifted eyebrow expressed interest. 

    “You just…you looked confident. Powerful. A man’s man.” She was surely stroking that ego of his and she watched the antisocial son of a bitch eat it up.

    “The vodka you prefer told me that.”

    “Did it?”

    “Mmhm.”

    “Mm.” His thumb had begun to stroke her hand. 

    “You can tell a lot about a man by the way he drinks. Some drink with company. Others like you, are content being by themselves. And men like you drink cowboy-style they say back home. Hard. To the point. All in one.” Impressed at her observations, he agreed with them by his raised eyebrows once again. 

    “Impressive.” He complimented, letting the servants place their first course on the table. Pulling her hand back, she began to lift her spoon, the fragrant tomato bouillon nearly making her drool. Blowing gently, she looked to see him staring at her again, like a creep… again. 

    “What’s wrong with you?”

    “You.” He didn’t say anything else, dipping some of the fresh bread into the soup. Things had grown quiet as they ate and soon the second course came. Fried fish with cucumber. 

    “How did you come to Mukden?” He asked, dipping the fish in some sort of sauce. 

    “How else? I was kidnapped.” 

    “Details.” He elaborated, forking a cucumber. 

    “My brother woke me to Japanese soldiers invading people’s homes and forcing everyone out. They rounded up everyone and those who made a fuss they shot.” He was quiet now, eyes intense on her as she continued, 

    “They killed my brother while he tried to protect me…” At that, to her shock, he looked solemn. 

    “I’ll never forgive what you did to him.”

    “I didn’t do anything to him.” 

    “Your people did.”

    “Don’t punish me for what ‘my people’ have done.”

    “No, I’ll punish you for almost shooting me at the command of your Captain or whatever the hell he is.” The once pleasant night had turned sour and tension had rose up between them. 

    “You want details of how one of your soldiers raped me? Will that get you off? Sick bastard.” The second course forgotten, she scooted her chair to get up. 

    “We can never ignore what we are to each other. No matter how much we play dress up.” He made it to her quicker than she’d walked away and grabbed her hand. 

    “Beatrice,”

    “Get off of me!” He grabbed her arms now, forcing her to turn. He wrapped his own around her, tight enough that she could not break away. 

    “I’m a soldier first. That’s what I do. I follow orders. If I don’t, then what good am I to my country?”

    “I don’t care! You would’ve killed me if he had given the order. Right? And then where would we be? You’d be hugging my corpse and I’d be laughing at you from hell.” For the first time, she felt him physically grow still, his muscles tight and stiff. 

    “The days of Oriental Pearl are gone and so are Ichiro and Bea. They died right along with it.” He didn’t argue or put up a fight, just dropped his arms to release her. 

    “I’m done being your little doll. Take me back.” Storming away, she left him standing there hands now closed into fists. 

 

*** 

 

    I felt so many emotions that night. Regret tore into me with such a vengeance that it left me breathless. For the first time, I regret everything I’d done. The suffering, the misery, the pain I’d inflicted upon others. The lives I’d taken. All of it threatened to suffocate me. Fury. It infuriated me that someone had taken advantage of her; my pretty perfect little slice of Holiness. I was supposed to taint and muddy the waters of her purity…and yet someone else had viciously ripped it away from her. From us. My own brutal assaults on defenseless women smothered my lungs and I wasn’t aware that I was hyperventilating. 

    Trying to take in a breath but failing, dizziness smashed into me. Her approach towards me seemed in slow motion but her hands soothed the fire in my skin, and the sweat on my face, neck, and arms. The words that came from her mouth nice and slow coaxed the breath to return. I wheezed heavily until even that slowed and my breath returned to normal. I’d held onto her and didn’t let go, pressing my face against her soft neck, an askance of penance. I wanted her arms to close around me, give me the forgiveness that I wanted so badly but she didn’t, keeping her touch away from me. 

    The ride back to the camp was somber and neither one of us spoke to the other. Upon entering my private barracks, she’d hastily taken off the dress I’d purchased and left it crumpled up on the floor, the shoes tossed carelessly away from her. She went behind the partition, blocking my view of her. And I, I undressed in the quiet and got into bed, turning my back to her as I tried to find sleep. 

 

*** 

 

    What good was a soldier anyway? Was misery, death, and murder at the expense of others really at the benefit of one’s country? 

End Notes:

 

A/N: THIS CHAPTER WAS SPICYYY BOYYYY. MAN. So much goodness in here to discuss lol. Here we have the begininng of the 'change' if you will... the much MUCH needed character development in my poor male protaganist because sooner or later I was gon strangle him LOL. This whole enemies to lovers/ love-that-I-hate-you trope is what I'm here for and it is PAINFUL to read the two of them... but you are rooting for them LOL. UGH. HOW CONFLICTED ARE WE Y'ALL Lol. THEY CONFLICTED AS HECK. 

*sigh* 

I hope you guys enjoy these updates hehe. I gotta go to sleep so I can get up for work tomorrow...today (0:20 am as I'm writing this whew chile) 

Love you! 

sunhalo~ 

 

Pictures: 

BEA'S DRESS (dude did that. I'm just sayin) 

じゅうに by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


twelve 


juuni 


 

 

 

“Mr. Ito, he’s waiting for you in the sitting room.” Everything in him had wanted to avoid coming. After his last visit, he’d been haunted by the images he’d seen. The things he’d read. Stepping past the large doors to the time portal, he found the aged man sitting in his chair, feet like always propped up and crossed. 

    “Good morning Mr. Matsuda,” He lifted an old veiny hand and waved him inside. Something about this man never seemed to sit right with him. He always felt uneasy around him. The tales of his past served to give him nightmares and he’d frankly never had a patient that scared this much shit out of him. Swallowing, he took a step into the room and glanced out at the clear pink, lilac, and orange sunrise. It took his breath away how close it seemed. 

    “I haven’t talked much about my wife have I?” Letting his eyes find the man again, he slowly took a seat next to him. 

    “No, sir.” On the small table by his chair, he had an open photo album.

    “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

    “Start wherever you like.” 

    “The moment I met her, my world went to shit.”  Licking his lips, he glanced down again at the album. 

    “Beatrice was the second woman who ever had my heart and she didn’t waste any opportunity with it.”

    “Where did you meet her?” He questioned, sitting back in the chair. Today seemed to be a day of fonder memories. Talking about one’s wife was always sure to bring happy times.

     “Shanghai. ’43. The place was called Oriental Pearl Club. It no longer exists.”

    “Ah,”

    “She had the most beautiful voice. It mesmerized all who heard it.” 

    “She sounds like a dynamic woman.”

    “Short as hell and prettier than Snow White. But she was hard-headed.”

    “Hard-headed?”

    “Stubborn as a mule and she never listened to a damn thing I said. I still don’t know why that turned me on.” For the briefest moment, the two men shared a mutual little laugh. 

    “She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was the reason I became a better man.”  He sounded tired. Exhausted actually. Still spunky but not as intense. At least, not today. He’d been made aware of his situation and knew that he was now permanently on hospice home care. He had less than five weeks left projected to live, cancer having spread across most of his body. 

    “I’m not a perfect man and I was not the best husband. But, not once did Bea ever leave me. We would always talk about it… what I did to piss her off. What she did. What we could change. How we could be better. Those sorts of things… they mattered to me. Keeping her happy and with me mattered.”

    “Yes, sir.” He replied reflectively. Mrs. Beatrice Matsuda sounded like the kind of woman that a man matured for, fought for, and cherished. 

    “Of course, as we grew older our communication styles evolved and grew better. We learned to work with each other and not fight each other so much.” 

    “You two fought each other? Like physically fought each other?” 

    “Sometimes. Most times, we fought with hurtful words.” He pressed his palms against his thighs and looked over at the man who wanted to travel back in time… back to his Bea. 

    “I disappointed her so many times. But, I’d like to think that just as many times as I disappointed her, I made her proud.” 

    “I know you did Mr. Matsuda. I’m sure of it.” The faint smile on his face stayed put and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

    “I’d trade anything to have her back. She was everything to me. Even if she annoyed the hell out of me.” 

 

***

 

    He heard it. The sharp intake of breath behind him. It took everything within him not to smirk. Slowly, his fingers kept to their work, unbuttoning button after button of his uniform shirt. 

    “What are you doing? Hurry before the water grows cold.” He said roughly, letting the shirt slip down his biceps to the floor.

    Days had passed since their disaster of a dinner. It seemed like they had both regressed severely, not talking to each other as much. And when they did speak, the words were short and clipped. He’d taken her out of the compound once more to reward her for her blessed silence but somehow, that day too had ended in an argument. 

    With his deployment date quickly approaching in the next few weeks, he’d been more than antsy. He didn’t know why this time had him so nervous. Normally, the nerves settled and died down by now. He’d written a letter to his mother and informed her of their progress… the successes Japan had in the war thus far. Letting her know he’d be dispatched to Iwo Jima, she had invited him to visit home if ever permitted a leave. 

    Fingers took hold of his belt and eased the thin metal pin out of the small hole. Pulling it free from the metal holder, he tossed it away from him. Turning, he found her still clothed, staring at him. Lifting fingers to his zipper, he slowly pulled, the metallic sound piercing the quiet space. The sight of her doing the opposite of what he asked was starting to annoy him. She’d been increasingly flippant and mouthy over the last couple of days and rejected any contact or proximity to or with him. 

    After a full month of living together, she still wasn’t used to them sharing baths. When he would force her into the tub, most times by literally picking her up and throwing her in, she always scurried to the far east end, sinking low into the water as if he couldn’t reach out and touch her if he wanted to.             

    “You have that look.” Her voice was quiet and firm. But her eyes, how they betrayed her. They’d followed his finger's movement and now though she tried not to, her very eyeballs stuck to his hands pulling his uniform pants down his hips. 

    “Now, you decide to speak.” He mused, irritation present in his voice. That seemed to break whatever trance she’d been in and her eyes finally drifted away from him. 

    “Don’t look at me like that. It’s disgusting.”

    “How am I looking at you?” He asked, pulling off the thin undershirt underneath his uniform shirt. 

    “Like a horny dog.”

    “A horny dog… Hm.” She turned her back to him. 

    “When you look at me like that, it makes my skin crawl. You’re no damn different than the rest of them.” He slipped fingers inside the elastic band of his boxers. 

    “Tell me what a horny dog looks like, Bea.” 

    “Like you want to eat my flesh… devour me whole… like an uncontrollable beast.” 

    “Interesting.” At last, the cool air from the room touched his bottom half just as it had his upper. 

    “That’s what you think I am. An uncontrollable beast?”

    “No, you’re an inhuman pig.” Nostrils flaring softly, he approached her. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her towards the tub, ignoring her audible protest. 

    “I’ve allowed you to disrespect me without consequence but it stops today.” Turning narrowed eyes upward, she felt her eyes grow watery. 

    “You’ve gotten comfortable around me. Too comfortable.”

    “What are you talking about? Let go of me!” Naked as the day he was brought into the world, he calmly walked over to his desk, neat clean, and pristine as always. Lifting his holster, he quietly removed the gun from within its confinement. At once, she began to shake and tremble, shock bleeding out the once defiance and disgust from her face. Lifting the weapon, he clicked off the safety. 

    “I-Ichiro…”

    “Undress. Now.” Swallowing thickly, she at once began to unbutton her dress and hastily pulled it off, the whole of it now pooled at her feet. Letting his eyes roam her body, he lifted them to her own. 

    “Panties off.” He demanded, eyes cold and emotionless, his finger hugging the trigger. Taking a shaky breath, she slowly dropped equally shaky fingers and slipped the thin cotton underwear down her legs until it too met the crumpled dress. He didn’t say a word as he neared and she reached behind her to grab the rim of the metal tub, fingers tightly gripping. 

    “You need a reminder of who I am because clearly, you’ve forgotten.” He spoke quietly, eyes traveling down her small trembling body. Golden brown, her skin looked soft. As though her very skin was not skin at all but silk. 

    “Are you going to shoot me?” He didn’t answer, instead, pressed the barrel of his pistol against her temple. At that, she closed her eyes. 

    “You tell me if I should or not. All that fucking mouth of yours.” Out of all the women he’d seen…Beatrice was the most peculiar. The most beautiful. A small slim neck. Soft collarbones. Pliable full breasts, perfect in size proportionate to her willowy petite body. The way her honeyed skin seemed to melt into little hard points of brown fascinated him. No…fascinated wasn’t quite the right word. Should he tell it honest…it aroused him. 

    She gripped the rim of the tub so tightly her fingers were losing that mystifying bronze color and he lifted the barrel up away from her temple, letting it now drag down across her cheek. Pushing it into her flesh, he forced her head back to reveal the whole of her neck. Her heart was beating so fast. He could tell by the rapid breathing. Silent now, he teased the barrel down the soft satiny skin between those weighty orbs. 

    “Ichiro,” 

    “Quiet.”

    Down the barrel teased pressing a cold steel kiss to a smooth flat stomach. The curves of small yet round hips flared out in a tempting display. Their very design and that of every other inch of her supple body were created for every vile and filthy desire of man. Finding the bush of dark curls nestled in a thick patch on her triangle, he lifted his gaze to hers. She was the closest thing he’d ever get to Heaven, her tightly closed thighs hid the promised gateway. By now, his member was erect and it jut upward, proud and imposing.

    She’d closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, her breath heavy as he drew closer, a single inhale of hers fanning against his chin as he leaned forward to press his mouth against her ear. 

    “What did I tell you when you first arrived here?” She couldn’t find the words and he lifted his free hand, grabbed hold of her chin, and made her look at him. 

    “Answer me.” 

    “If you wanted to, you could strip me and take me.” Her voice was quiet now and slightly shaky. 

    “I could put the barrel of this gun against your head and make you kneel. If I so chose, I could grab you by your hair and force my cock into your mouth.” His words were chilling and she shuddered as he let go of her chin, leaning even closer over her, close enough that his stiff rod prodded her ribcage. 

    “It would be easy to watch you suck. Enough until I come all over your face.” 

    “Ichiro….” 

    “That would be the perfect way to make your mouth useful.” Lifting a hand, he took hold of her hair and turned her head towards him. Now, those watery eyes looked up at him and he tightened his grip on her hair. 

    “I’ve been too lenient with you. That’s my mistake.” His lips drew closer to her own. 

    “It won’t be made again.” Letting go of her, his emotionless eyes cut into her. 

    “The next time you disobey me…the next time you open your mouth to disrespect me…” He leaned in once more, his breath warming her lips.     

    “I’m going to wrap my hands around your pretty little throat and choke the life from you. I’ll use you like the whore they named you when you were brought in to me. And after I have my fill of fucking you, I will put a bullet between your eyes. Do I make myself clear?” 

    “…yes…” She croaked, her voice breaking.  Her breaths were shaky and her fingers gripped the tub behind them even tighter. 

    “I wouldn’t be a horny dog then. I would be the very definition of a nightmare.” At once, he backed away from her. Her legs threatened to give out and she couldn’t meet his gaze now, her lips parted and mouth panting. 

    “I’m not like one of your little songs. Don’t forget that Beatrice. Ever.” He had now clicked the safety on and put the gun back into his holster. Turning, he lifted a cigarette to his lips and struck a match. Blowing out the smoke, he licked his lips. 

    “Now,” Taking another long inhale, he snuffed out the lit part of the cigarette and put it back into his pack. 

    “Get in the goddamn tub.” 

*** 

 

    He was stunned as he relayed the memory. Mr. Matsuda, however, appeared slightly humored. 

    “I wanted to strangle her just as much as I wanted to kiss her.” 

    “Hm.” He was quiet as the old man coughed, a chronic wet hoarse cough that sounded brutal and painful. He reached for a tissue or two and expelled putrid phlegm, bright green and bloody. 

    “Mr. Matsu-” His raised trembling hand stopped him and he coughed some more up before wheezing for breath. 

    “Sit…” He gasped, a small series of coughs before he sat back in his chair. He did so slowly and with much anxiety. 

    “I must tell you the rest…”

    “Maybe another day. I think you should-”

    “I don’t have time!” He grit out, voice now gritty and rough. 

    “If I don’t tell you, I’ll be forgotten. I’m… trusting you with my story, Ito.” Throat tight, he sat back down, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. When he had gathered his breath, he closed his eyes, the skin of his face, neck, and arms a sickly white. It was obvious that he had lost weight thanks to the repeated rounds of chemo he’d endured over the years. And now, the once healthy well-built man now had been reduced to disease-riddled skin and bones. 

    “Before the battle of Iwo Jima…I almost ruined my military career for that fucking woman.” 

    “What happened?” 

 

***

 

 

    “Don’t make me go back. Please.” That caught his attention. In the time he’d known her, she never begged. Never pleaded. Lifting steely eyes, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

    “You can’t stop going Bea.”

    “He’s not….it’s not what you think.” Clenching his jaw, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils and reached for those trusty cigarettes. 

    “Give me a reason.” It seemed it was hard for her to speak then. He said not a word as he placed the stick of nicotine in between his lips. 

    “He touches me.” His chest burned at the statement. 

    “He’s a doctor. He’s supposed to touch you.” 

    “No…not…not like that.”

    “Like what?” 

    “You’re not dumb or deaf. You know exactly what I mean.” She hissed, annoyance and irritation flushing her features. 

    “Show me where.” 

    “No.” 

    “Then you’ll go as scheduled.” He stood up and went to grab his hat when her hand suddenly gripped his. 

    “Please…. Ichiro….” He was silent as he looked down at her, who pressed her face against his shoulder. 

    “He hurts me…he….he sticks things…in…inside of me…” Letting go of his hat on the table, he lifted his hand to press against her hair. 

    “How often?” He asked, his voice calm and cool. 

    “Every time I go…” 

    “Does he say anything to you?”

    “…He told me that I was the perfect specimen. That….he hadn’t seen anyone else like me…with my….features.” 

    “And?”

    “He asked me if you and I were…having sex.”

    “What did you tell him?”

    “Of course, I told him yes…” He remained quiet as she continued, 

    “He told me that he wondered if you…satisfied me. Some weird sick nonsense about the size and diameter of my sex organs.” Taking a shaky breath, she pulled away from him just enough to look up into his eyes. 

    “He said the next time I came to him…he’d have a present for me.”

    “What kind of present?”

    “He said he’d tie me to his bed, open my legs and inject a syringe full of semen into me.” At that, his nostrils flared wide. He let his hand fall away from her hair and placed the cap on his head. 

    “I’ll visit him.” Is all he said as he left her, locking the door behind him. 

 

*** 

 

    The door had just closed. Doctor Nakakawa stood at his desk, arranging surgical tools. 

    “Busy?” Turning, he found First Lt. Matsuda standing behind him, hands in his pockets. Laughing nervously, he shook his head no. 

    “Most of my appointments were early this morning.”

    “Ah,”

    “Though I am about to take a break. For lunch.” Going over to the sink, he washed his hands and straightened the spectacles housed on the bridge of his nose. 

    “How can I help you, Lt. Matsuda? It must be urgent for you to not make an appointment.” 

    “I wanted to know how she’s doing.” For a moment, the older man looked confused but then suddenly he understood. 

    “Ah, your whore.” He didn’t answer, simply watching as he continued speaking. 

    “She’s a beautiful one. I wonder where they found her.”

    “Shanghai.”

    “Oh?”

    “You could say we have a previous history.” The man grinned. 

    “How lucky for you to have met her again hm?”

    “If you look at it that way.” 

    “Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. 

    “Number 7017. What a lovely specimen.” The pitiful lump of flesh began to sweat, beads forming at his receding hairline as he seemed to reflect on something. 

    “I would like to be frank in my findings with her. If I may?”

    “By all means.” Clearing his throat again, he went over to his desk and sat down. Papers rustled as he searched through manila files until 7-0-1-7 stared at him from across the room. 

    “Beatrice Jones. 22 years of age. Origin is the United States of America. Five feet two inches. One hundred and five pounds.” More rustling of papers. 

    “Race: Negroid. Skull diameter is 7.1. Average. Breast-waist-hip measurements 36-25-42. Considerably more hip-heavy than the others we have. I’d say more than ideal hips for birthing.” 

    “What of her internally?” The question seemed to cause a pale red blush to come to the doctor’s cheeks as if he’d had sake. 

    “Ah..yes internally…she’s perfect in every way.” 

    “How so?” 

    “The average male penis is roughly about four to five inches when erect. 7017 has a vaginal canal of six inches, which makes it perfect for a slightly larger than average member.” Licking his lips, he lifted his eyes to his. 

    “If you don’t mind me asking First Lt., how many inches are you when erect?” 

    “Slightly more than six.”

    “Ah, very fortunate. Does the whole of your penis fit inside of her during sex?” 

    “What business is that of yours?” 

    “Ah, perhaps my questions are too personal. It is the researcher in me I’m afraid.” He didn’t say a word as he watched the man lift a handkerchief and dab at the sweat on his forehead. 

    “When I perform my examinations on the maruta, I use this.” Getting up, he held up a weird metal contraption, the shape of a duck’s mouth. 

    “It is called a speculum. It is inserted into the vagina and opens up the orifice an amazing 2 centimeters.” Putting the device back onto the table, he smoothed back the balding hair at the top of his head. 

    “Allow me to be frank. 7017 has quite the lovely pussy.” At that, he took his hands out of his pockets. 

    “The color of sakura petals in spring, looking at her cervix makes me quite homesick. Have you ever heard of it before?”

    “No.”

    “It’s a wonderful design. The female cervix bares the shape of a smooth fleshy ‘O’. Upon closer inspection and examination, it looks as though it has tiny puckered lips there at its opening. During the act of intercourse, the lips open and accept semen released from the male partner.” Still, he said nothing and by now, the talk of his ‘research’ had his face red and his voice excited. 

    “Her labia, the outer lips that protect the vaginal opening, interestingly were soaked with female arousal. I couldn’t help slipping a finger into her.” The man turned to look at him, his sick grin widening. His throat grew tight. 

    “The speculum slid right in and her walls opened so easily. I wondered what it would be like to fill her open cavern with liquids….water perhaps…sake even….maybe even milk. She’s such a fascinating specimen. I enjoy experimenting on her.” He said nothing still, his expression darkening. 

    “It fills me with regret that we haven’t more Negro maruta to conduct experiments on. I’d love to have a male. They say that the size of the Negro penis is like that of a horse or elephant.”  Dabbing the beads of sweat once more, he sighed. 

    “Anyhow…I want to breed 7017…with your permission. It would benefit us to see how the Negroid female carries offspring. Personally, seeing her cavern filled with semen would be a sight to witness. Even more than the protruding belly and heavy breasts full with milk.” 

    Breathing harshly, the man lifted shaky fingers to his lab coat but they didn’t make it there as he punched him hard in the jaw. A loud groan sounded in the room and as he turned his head again, he hit him again, harder than the first time, making him crash into his tray of instruments. 

    “Fucking pig.” He hissed, lifting him by the collar. 

    “First Lt. please…” Grabbing a scalpel, he pressed it against the fat of the man’s neck. 

    “She’s not a toy for you to play with.” The man suddenly laughed. 

    “Is she not? Did we not capture her for the sake of scientific discovery and progression?” 

    “No.” His voice was low and furious. 

    “Have you lost your way, Lt.? What we do must always be in the name of Japan and of our Emperor. If I didn’t know any better, I’d dangerously assume that you’re in love with the bitch.”

    “Shut up.” 

    “She does not belong to you alone. She belongs to us all. She belongs to our Great and Mighty Emperor. Should she serve us well, should she honor our Emperor with her body’s service she might be worthy to die an honorable death.” Shoving him away from him, he tightened his grip on the scalpel and sliced his cheek, ignoring the whimpers and screams from him. 

    “Today will be the last day you touch her with your filthy hands.” Bloody, the man grinned. 

    “If I don’t heed your so-called warning?” Leaning down over him, he returned his grin with one of his own. 

    “I’ll cut off all of your fingers. Your toes. Nose and earlobes. Slice your shriveled cock in half and shove your testicles into your mouth.”  

    “You’ve forgotten your place. I know your Captain by name. All it will take is one conversation with him and you’re finished.” 

    “Not even he will be able to keep you from me.” He growled against his ear. Grin now gone, the chilled emotionless gaze made the doctor’s blood cold and he screamed and reached up to grab hold of his ear, a piece of his earlobe bloody and detached on the floor. 

    “Just in case you still entertain the thought of it.” He lifted and tossed the scalpel away from him and opened the door. Ignoring the confused faces of his medical staff, he headed back to his quarters completely unbothered by his actions. 

 

*** 

 

    “I was lucky to have had enough time to wash the blood from my hands and change my uniform before being summoned to my Captain’s office. Bea didn’t ask any questions, though I knew she wanted to. By the blood on my hands, she knew I’d taken care of it.” 

    “The meeting with your Captain…”

    “He was rightfully pissed.” 

    “And you?”

 

*** 

 

    His legs had grown tired from standing in the same spot for the past hour. At ease, he had stared at the wall until it seemed the paint had started to blur. The radiator had not been turned on and his toes had started to grow cold inside of his boots. But still, he remained. Still, he maintained his position. At the knob turning, he inhaled through his nostrils as Captain Onada entered. The man sounded out of breath, that’s just how pissed he was. 

    “Attention!” He growled angrily, watching as he fell into the commanded position, saluting him, arm firm and fingers stiff. Coming to turn, he pulled out his chair and sat down, steepling his fingers. 

    “I’m sure you can imagine the conversation I just had with Head Surgeon Nakakawa.” He replied not. 

    “He had a fantastical story of you bursting into his medical office and harassing him. He relayed that you in a fit of rage sliced off his earlobe.” Again, he replied not, eyes straight on the wall ahead of him. 

    “Is it true?” 

    “Yes, sir.”

    “All because of that filthy Negroid whore in your captivity. Is that true?” 

    “Yes, sir.” He chuckled in disbelief, sitting back into his chair. 

    “Now, what would make you do such a thing like that?” He didn’t answer. 

    “Speak, goddammit!” 

    “I merely went to inquire of her health reports, sir.”

    “Her health was of concern to you?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Is the bitch pregnant?”

    “No, sir.”

    “Then what concern could you have?”

     “Impregnation without my consent, sir.” At that, the man, red in the face, pursed his lips. 

    “What are you implying, Matsuda?” 

    “It is to my knowledge that prisoner of war women given to officers are by right their property until the end of the war. Confirm truth, sir.”

    “Confirmed.”

    “The woman made me aware that Head Surgeon Nakakawa told her of his plans to forcibly inseminate her without my knowledge.”

    “Go on,”

    “Upon arrival and entry, Head Surgeon Nakakawa spoke of his findings concerning her physical form. He expressed his desire to inseminate her repeatedly, sir.”

    “Did he ask for consent upon asking?”

    “Yes, sir.” He answered. 

    “At ease.” He at once relaxed, feet apart and arms behind his back. 

    “What reason did you have for cutting off his earlobe, Matsuda?” 

    “If I may be honest, sir?”

    “Speak,”

    “I don’t like the bastard.” 

    “Is that so?”

    “Any pain inflicted upon the Negro female should be first consulted with me. He fulfills personal fantasies with her and disrespects my authority, sir.” Captain Onada for a long moment was quiet, eying him ominously. 

    “Head Surgeon Nakakawa is currently undergoing reattachment surgery as we speak. He demanded that I court-martial and imprison you.” He showed no emotion. 

    “I, however, like you Matsuda. I think you’re a damn good soldier and would serve as an example to all the 30 to 50 enlisted warriors I’ve entrusted you with commanding.”

    “I am not worthy, sir.”

    “Perhaps not. But, I think you should be given another opportunity to make this right. Don’t you agree?” 

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Reacting impulsively on the behalf of a prisoner of war whore will make me question your loyalty to not only myself but our Emperor. You don’t want me to doubt you.” 

    “No, sir.”

    “If I hear of anything like this happening again, I will personally order you to watch the bitch be ripped apart and you will be thrown in prison. Is that clear?”

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Good. Now, get out.” Saluting him, he turned on his boot heel and exited his office.

End Notes:

 

A/N: Hey y'all hehe. How has your weeks been respectively? Mine has been very busy and borderline exhausting physically but I'm here, blessed and thankful to write more of Ichiro and Bea's story hehe. This one was explosive huh? *cue fanning gif* Kiiiiindaaaaa spicy, no? Ichiro's frankness is very refreshing lol. Love how he talks about Bea like yeah that woman got the hell on my nerves but I loved her more than life. hahahahahha. The bath scene was *fanning continues* bruhhhhhhhh that was spiiiiicy. He said yeah you gon make me give you some act right ma'am if you keep it up LOL. SHEEEESH just DON'T KILL HER MATSUDA LOL. Give her the act right but don't take her out LOL. Okay, I quit lol

His interaction with the psycho sick in the head animal Nakakawa was just *chef's kiss* I love how he stood his ground, was honest and unyielding towards his Captain as well. Like look, Ion like the dude and he was overstepping his bounds. So, there lol. 

Hope you enjoyed the read! I've got three more updates for you! This weekend is Father's Day weekend so I will be spending it with family. 

To all the Dads, God bless you and thank you. We love and appreciate you.

DL~

 

じゅうさん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

thirteen

 

juusan 

 

 

 

*GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF BATTLE* 

 

 

 

 

 

    “How is he doing? Is he being nice today?” Glancing up, he felt his cheeks grow warm at the sight of Ms. Asami standing next to him. How hadn’t he heard her come in? Clearing his throat, his eyes drifted past the extensive trees on their property, some of them already starting to turn the colors of autumn. Quite early yet, as it was still summer. 

    “He’s being kinder today, yes. If that is even a thing.” Asami laughed and leaned against the balcony. 

    “He’s been really really under the weather lately.” Yeah, no surprise there. After everything he was going through, he thought it was more than normal at this point. 

    “I appreciate you for seeing him, Takeru.” At the sound of his first name, his blush deepened. 

    “It’s…it’s nothing ‘Sami.” Smiling, she shoulder-bumped him. 

    “I told you he likes you.”

    “Bullshit. The man scares me.” At that, she began to laugh, the sound of it making him smile. 

    “I’ve put Grandpa to bed for a nap which, surprisingly, he did not object to. You know how hard it is for him to sleep.”

    “Hm.”

    “After a couple of Ambien, he’s sleeping like a baby.” Turning to lift those pretty eyes of hers up towards him, she smiled again, her trademark dimples peeking out. 

    “Come join Mere and me for lunch.”

    “I…I don’t think that’s…appropriate.” Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms. 

    “Don’t act brand new.”

    “I’m not. It’s just…I do have a job to keep you know.”

    “Mmhm. Well, your job doesn’t know that I’ve known you since my freshman year of high school. We briefly dated in college. And we’ve been out for drinks on more than one occasion.” To that, his face grew red. 

    “You eating lunch with me is not going to kill you.” Spluttering for words, his efforts died down as she dragged him by the arm into the house. 

 

*** 

 

    Sometimes, when he slept, the memories of his past deeds didn’t play out like a film. No, sometimes, he’d be in the thick of battle. Adrenaline pumping, he’d run through the thick jungles and come to a clearing… a strange clearing of sunflowers. Surely not something meant to be in the middle of the jungle but there it would be. And in the middle of that garden of sunflowers, she’d stand. She’d turn towards him, dressed in her wedding dress, and look at him. 

    “Bea…what…what are you doing out here?” He’d ask, laying down his weapon. Sweat from the run would dribble down his temple and the heat from his heavy combat uniform would almost suffocate him. 

    “War has no place here, Ichiro.” She’d say, her voice just as sweet as he remembered it. 

    “Lay your weapon down, sugar.” He’d slowly put it down to the ground. 

    “Bea, why are you here…you shouldn’t be here…” She’d come towards him and her touch instantly melted him. His uniform suddenly would vanish, being replaced with the trousers and shirt he wore on their wedding day. 

    “I'm your wife. I’ll always be here.” She’d whisper against his chest, accepting his arms around her. They’d hold each other for a while, the scent of sunflowers and warm spring air now rustling them. 

    “You’re tired.” She’d observe, lifting a tiny hand to brush against his cheek. He never argued for he would always be so fucking tired.

    “Rest for a little while sweetheart. Come on.” She’d take his hand and slowly pull him deeper into the thick of the field of flowers, a soft sweet tune caressing him. Before he could open his mouth to speak, his eyes would shoot open. 

 

***

 

    “I don’t like that room, Sami.”

    “What, Grandpa’s office?”

    “Yeah.” The three of them sat in the enclosed day room and ate some tasty watermelon skewers and tacos, two things not traditionally matched but oh-so-yummy. 

    “It’s like a time machine into hell.” Asami was less playful at the comment and she actually looked as though she agreed. 

    “Why has he kept all of it? The pictures…the articles…the news clippings… the sword and gun? How can a man who is truly repentant keep all of that?” Biting into the juicy watermelon and prosciutto, she chewed thoughtfully before answering. 

    “I wondered the same… before I started to know more.” 

    “Know more?” Mere asked, intrigued eyes looking at her. 

    “I’ve been reading Grandpa’s diary.” 

    “Is that the humungous book you’ve been reading?” Meredith asked, eyes big as saucers. 

    “Yep.” Sami answered, reaching for her glass of water. 

    “Let me guess. He brags about all the things he did.” Sami, however, shot down his large assumption. 

    “Actually, he’s immensely regretful.” That shut him up. 

    “I tried not to hate him at first. Reading the things he did…they tortured me and I thought that I was living with a stranger.” Both of them were quiet as she continued. 

    “As I’m reading his entries though…the picture of a different man has surfaced.” Putting down the skewer, she balanced her cheek against her palm. 

    “He’s had to be this certain version of himself for so long…and now…now he doesn’t have to. Can you imagine how he feels?” Solemn, Meredith got up from the table and gently rubbed her back. 

    “I’ll go see if he wants to eat.” 

    “Thanks, Mere.” Now, the two of them alone,  Asami sighed. 

    “My grandfather is a very interesting man. He has so…many layers…so many sides to him. Sides that I bring out, you bring out. Sides that only Grandma could bring out.” 

    “Sami…”

    “I think… I think after looking up at a man so shrouded in mystery my whole life… I can honestly say that now I am beginning to understand him… at his core.” Finishing the skewer, she smiled prettily and reached for a taco. 

    “All this deep soul searching is nice but I still don’t like that room. I don’t care what you say.” The two of them began to chuckle and laugh, trying not to choke on the taco filling. 

 

    *** 

 

 

     “Your meal, woman.” Looking up from where she stooped, she squinted her eyes to see a familiar face. She recognized him as the soldier Ichiro would come into the club with on occasion. In the cold, her legs and fingers had grown numb but she had kept working. Every chance she got to be away from that suffocating barracks, she took it. Rain or shine… snow or cold… she cherished breathing in the air for a little bit. 

    Making a move to stand, it was paused by the dumping of scraps onto the ground. Lifting her eyes upward, she glared at him. The arrogant bastard grinned. 

    “Pick it up.” Eyes drifted down to what appeared to be rotten scraps of food. Rice, what little of it there was, was brown from rat shit and had small pieces of straw and glass sticking out of it. What she was sure was once healthy pieces of meat now was infested with tiny maggots and the smell of it made her stomach roll.

    “I will not eat this.” She said, voice hard. At that, he chuckled. 

    “What a spoiled bitch you are.” Lifting his hand, he slapped her, forcing her lip to split. Bloody saliva trickled out of her mouth as she lifted from the ground. 

    “You will eat what I tell you to eat.” He said haughtily, kneeling beside her. Reaching out, he grabbed her hair and forced her to look up at him. 

    “Matsuda is not here, princess.” Shoving her head away, he smirked. 

    “I remember you. The pretty Negro singer from the club.” She kept her head down and gripped the snow and rocks beneath her.  

    “You’re the one who ruled his drunken thoughts.” She didn’t say a word but unclenched her fingers. 

    “I told him to end it… this back and forth game between you but he didn’t listen. He should have made it permanent and shot you.” 

    “What right did he or you have to decide my fate? We were simply entertaining you.” A vein in his forehead bulged and he stood up. Taking his booted toe, he lifted his foot and stepped on her hand, nearly crushing it. Sharp jagged rocks, glass, and rough dirt cut into her flesh and she let out a shriek of pain. Keeping the crushing weight of his foot on her hand, he knelt and picked up the rotten food, snow, and dirt. Taking it, he forced it into her mouth, grinning maniacally as she began to cough and spit it out, blood and vomit soon erupting from her mouth. Only then, did he take his foot off of her hand and stepped back to watch her sob, clutching her injured limb. 

    “Be thankful you’re his whore and not mine. When you’re done cleaning the shit holes, go to barracks six. Don’t go anywhere until I arrive.” She said nothing, only bowed her head. Satisfied, he turned on said heel and left her there trembling and bloodied. 

 

*** 

 

 

    Machine gun fire ricocheted across the earth and shells exploded like massive fireworks, spraying debris and shrapnel. The screams of the wounded seemed to serenade the sky with the song of battle. 

    “Trap those motherfuckers! Jackson hit 'em’ with all you fucking got!” Deep within underground bunkers, he, however, barked orders of his own. 

    “Don’t let those bastards advance!” Some of his men had fallen but most of the first fleet of American soldiers had been blown to pieces by the land mines they’d placed and bullets. He felt proud of that fact. 

    “Move! Move, Move!”

    “First-line defense, remain your position. All others, follow me to the next checkpoint.”

    “Yes, sir!” 

 

    *** 

 

    He’d left Beatrice at Mukden, entrusting her care to Takahashi who all-too-happily agreed. He had been reluctant to give her over, knowing how he was. He too had held an interest in Beatrice back at the Oriental Pearl. Perhaps, now with him gone, the desires he had would drift back to the surface. Licking the salt from his lip, he commanded his men forward, an explosion too close for comfort sounding back behind them. 

    “Second Platoon, head to the second bunker. Third, Fourth and Fifth platoon assume your positions at the appropriate bunker!” 

    “Yes, sir!” It was only 1100 am and his entire uniform was soaked with sweat. Already, there had been more than enough carnage. Arms, legs, hands, even half torsos and entrails had been strewn across the black sand beach, and even from where they were positioned, they could hear the screams of the injured. 

    “The second wave of enemy soldiers are departing their ship.”

    “Where are the kamikaze stationed?” He asked, taking the binoculars from the recruit. Lifting them, he saw oft in the distance the enemy forces preparing once more to embark on the island. 

    “They are preparing to fire, sir.”

    “We must move.” 

    “Yes, sir.” 

 

*** 

 

 

    “How long did you fight at Iwo Jima?” A couple of hours after his nap, Mr. Matsuda was back in the conversation. He’d found himself summoned back to the dayroom after a small encouraging nudge from Asami. His initial check-up had long since passed. By now, he’d have left. But, it was the way Mr. Matsuda spoke as if in a hurry that made him stay. 

    “I lasted an entire month before getting wounded.”

    “I see. I can’t imagine being there in the middle of the bullet fire… how terrifying it must have been for you.” Mr. Matsuda waved his hand. 

    “Going into battle is not the most frightening part. Losing your confidence and morale is frightening. It is at that point where you begin to feel the arms of death hug you a tad bit closer.” 

 

*** 

 

    He’d smoked nearly all of his cigarettes.

    “Seiki, report your findings.”

    “Sir! There are 850 enemy troops approaching our right flank. We have gunners who are manning Type 92’s to keep them at bay. So far, 45 of the 100 assigned have been killed.” 

    “First Lt. Matsuda,” In the cramped dugout, the air was thick from the many bodies crammed into the limited space. Turning his head, he found the owner of the voice. A young draftee who had been grazed by an American bullet. His eyebrow was still leaking blood, though less profuse as it had before. 

    “Speak, comrade.” 

    “Why has the government left us to die here?” The question took him aback and he blinked at the boy, who could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen. 

    “What makes you say that?” 

    “With all due respect sir… you know we cannot beat them like this… we don’t stand a chance.” 

    “Shut up, Takeda!” One of the other soldiers groused, cutting his eyes at him. He, however, lifted his hand to halt any more. 

    “He has the right to speak.” The boy swallowed thickly as he prepared to answer, 

    “You are correct. Attempting to take over the enemy forces as we are right now is ludicrous. To say, however, that we cannot beat them suggests a lack of faith. Do you have doubts?” The young man’s face grew pale as if he’d seen a ghost. 

    “I would never doubt you or any other commander. I-It’s not that I distrust the government either…”

    “Then what is it?”

    “It’s just…at this point we are sitting ducks and at any given moment we will die. We’ve run out of rations and we’ve been moving to and fro throughout the island, trying to evade them. Why are we not showcasing our strength and power more?”  

    Understandably, his men had lost confidence. The fighting had been going on for weeks now, far longer than either side had anticipated. In that time, he’d had to lay to rest many of his soldiers, most of them young boys…inexperienced children thrust into the world of war and told to either fire a gun or pull the pin to their assigned hand grenade. Death was preferred… no, it was mandated, over surrender. It was an oath many fulfilled as they left the camp late at night in small groups, the sound of explosions soon confirming their deed. 

    “As soldiers, we are not to question the decisions of our commanding officers or our orders. We must, under no circumstance, lose hope or faith in our cause." 

    “Even if we are nothing more than scapegoats?” He was about to reply when yelling and screaming forced the men to cut the conversation short. 

    “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” 

    “Takeda, grab your weapon.” Standing, they all followed his lead as they headed towards the mouth of the bunker. The sight before him chilled him. 40-foot flames erupted from canisters on the backs of the enemy soldiers and instantly lit his troops on fire. Screaming and yelling, some threw themselves down, trying to put out the fire, others flailed wildly… all reason within them gone. 

    “Fire!” He hissed lowly, lifting his weapon. At once, they began to fire their weapons, causing the fire to cease. 

    “Bastards.” He spit, ducking as returning fire hit the bunker. When it died down, he smoothly climbed out of the hole and crouched low to the ground. The others did the same. No fire. No bullets. One such soldier against his instruction began to pop up and immediately was shot, falling back against the bunker entrance. 

    “GRENADE!” 

    “GET UP AND MOVE!” He shouted, popping up with his weapon raised. Firing a couple of rounds, he turned to run into the trees and thick of the forest. He turned, glad to see most of them keeping up with him. It was the turn that brought something he never expected. As if in slow motion, an explosion blasted through the air, sending shrapnel flying. Sudden screams ended almost immediately as it ripped the men who had been running behind him completely in two; limbs and bodies rupturing. Gasping for breath now, he turned to run but it was too late. Another explosion combusted to his near right, sending him flying. 

 

***

 

    Incredulous eyes looked back at him and he winced, hand now gripping his stump. 

    “I hadn’t seen the rocket launchers. They completely decimated my platoon. My leg had been almost completely separated from my body, hanging on by a thin piece of muscle.” Ito winced. 

    “The pain was nothing I’d ever experienced before.”

    “Did they capture you?” Letting go of his stump, the man reached for his tea. 

    “No. I hid underground.” 

    “How…how did you-?”

    “I had run towards the nearest bunker before getting blown up. The adrenaline, still so high in my body, enabled me to crawl to its opening. There were a few stragglers who were still alive who helped pull me in. Most of the group had perished.” 

    “Damn.” 

    “Once the adrenaline wore off, the pain was too much. I thought for sure that the pain alone would kill me.” 

 

*** 

 

    It didn’t sound like him. Surely, it couldn’t have been. But the rough hoarse voice screaming out, fused with agony did indeed belong to him. His uniform had melted to his skin in some places and was so terribly hot and charred, that it made him grow hot with fever. He’d lost so much blood and delirium was starting to set in. The soldiers scrambled to peel off their uniform jackets, trying to prevent more blood loss. His entire body trembled and shivered and he felt so cold his teeth had begun to chatter.

 

*** 

 

    “The jackets were full of mold and mildew and reeked something awful. But they helped to save my life.” 

    “It was a miracle that you didn’t get gangrene.”

    “Hm.” Silence enveloped them for a little while. 

    “I was so close to dying… but I made it up in my mind that I wouldn’t go…I wouldn’t die without a fight.” 

    “And Beatrice?”

    “And Beatrice…I…I haven’t told you much about her have I?” Just like that, his entire demeanor had changed and it was as if the conversation they had just had a second ago had never existed. He blinked a few times, confusion in his features. 

    “Bea was my wife and she was beautiful.”

    “Was she?”

    “Yes. We were happily married for 50 years. Can you believe that? 50 long years.”  Sad eyes growing soft, he sat back against the chair. 

    “Congratulations, sir.”

End Notes:

 

A/N: First, can we talk about how much I DISLIKE TAKAHASHI. Likeeeeeeee how disrespectful are you, ya ugly?! *vomits* I tried to keep the battle scene as realistic as possible. I read some journal entries from real Japanese soldiers during the Battle of Iwo Jima and Okinawa and it was heart breaking to read how towards the start of the battle they were high in morale and confident.

Towards the end (of presumably their battle and capture) they had lost confidence and one soldier even began to express distain for the Japanese Government. Death (suicide) because a way for him to escape loneliness (as members of his platoon had either died or commited suicide) it was heart breaking to know that sick and weary, he probably never left the battle of Okinawa alive. 

As we see, Ichiro's dementia is growing progressively worse. It's... *sigh* *sobbing* We now know the story of how he lost his leg. *sniff* I have two more updates for you. I'll update them later tonight after Bible Study LOL. 

see you soon~ 

DL

 

okay I'm back from Bible Study lol 

Here is Yosuke Sugino as Takeru Ito (Asami's boo thang let's be real) 

​​​​​​​

じゅうよん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

 

 

fourteen

 

juusan 

 

 

 

*ATTEMPTED R*PE TRIGGER WARNING* 

 

When the pretty Autumn sky had finally settled into sunset, she put on some jammies and quietly left the confines of her room. Silent, her feet led her to her grandpa’s room. As quiet as she could muster, she opened the door and slipped inside. There he laid in bed, still under the effect of the Ambien. He looked so small and feeble. Sick. Dying. Throat tight, she felt deep sadness travel through her heart as she came closer. Her chair from earlier in the evening hadn’t been moved so she sat down. 

    Eyes on him, she listened to his weak breath, the scratchy wheezing that shook his whole chest. In the quiet and still, she could be honest about what she felt… how she felt. It was okay to allow the impending grief to shelter her. In the dark, with only the light of the moon, it was okay to look into the face of reality… as it were… and try to cherish the moments that she had to even look at him…hear him breathe… see him dream. Reaching for his hand, she took it into her own. It pained her to see how small and frail it appeared now after so many years of being big and strong. Mighty and invincible. Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she swallowed her heavy heart and leaned down to press her face against their hands. 

    “Jii-chan…” She allowed it to come, the soft silent tears that soon fell with ferocity and blinded her.

    “I know you’re tired. You’ve been fighting this alone for so long, grandpa.” Her voice trembled with palpable sorrow. 

    “What hurts me the most is that you never asked for help. You never asked for support.” Crying, she sniffled and lifted one of her hands to wipe away the tears. 

    “You won’t be alone this time, Grandpa. I’ll be here every step of the way. Until your last moment, I’ll be here.” Gently placing his hand back to rest on his stomach, she sniffed, trying to clear her vision. There on the nightstand was an open picture album. One she’d never seen in his room before. He must have gone into his office to get it. Lifting shaky fingers, she took hold of it and brought it up to see. A pain of a different kind spread through her body. A bittersweet one. He’d been looking at pictures of him and Grandma. Pictures she’d never seen before. They showed a private and intimate side to him… to them… that both broke her heart and made it flutter. 

 

    The first picture was really old, the focus of the camera blurry and the saturation and coloring slightly off. By what looked like an old Ford car, the two of them stood in an embrace oft by the road. There was no date on the picture and she couldn’t help but wonder when it took place. What was obviously apparent was that the two of them had been photographed while kissing one another. The body language was one of relaxation and snug proximity. They were comfortable. In love. Setting it down, she glanced at the second. Yet another almost too candid moment, the two of them lounged in a field of grass. He laid on his back, hands behind his head. He must have worn a prosthesis that day because both of his knees were pulled up. She sat beside him, legs tucked underneath her to the side. her hands rested softly on her lap. He gazed up at her with a gentle intensity. Her expression, however, was soft but playful. 

    The last picture had to be perhaps her favorite. In this same field of grass and trees, they both faced each other, each on their knees. Caught right before they shared a kiss, they both were in their own little world of bliss and obscurity. His hand rested gently on her petite waist and she waited in anticipation, her arms hung by her sides, fingers caressing small white flowers. 

    “Grandma’s love…it healed you, didn't it Grandpa? She gave of herself so selflessly to you…And you did the same.” Smiling watery, she placed the album back on the nightstand. With gentle fingers, she smoothed the skin by his temples. He’d lost most of his hair from the chemo and what it hadn’t taken, he’d requested it shaved.

    “She was there for you and I will be too.”

 

 

 

*** 

 

    “Take off your dress.” That’s how her morning had started and she was not in the mood. Sleep-deprived and fighting off food poisoning, she had spent the entire night outside with diarrhea and her stomach cramped severely, the pain sharp and stabbing. 

    “No.”  She dared to answer back. Pulling the covers off of her, he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up, forcing her to get out of bed. 

    “Get up.” He sneered, yanking her towards the door. Not allowing her any shoes or anything to cover up, they exited the building, stepping into what was proving to be a bitterly cold day.  

    “Walk up.” He ordered with a hard shove. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and kept going. The alleyways in-between barrack row were trodden with dirt and human and rodent feces. Small and terribly narrow, they only provided a slim view of the sky above, creating a sense of isolation, a never-ending hell. Coming to Barrack 28, Row 8, he told her to stop walking. 

    “Today, we’re going on a little field trip, maruta 7017.” He said with what was becoming his trademark grin. Lifting keys, he unlocked the door. 

    “Do you recognize this place?” Fear sliced through her and she held herself tighter. This was one of the barracks of Unit 100. Said to be the place where victims were doused with ice-cold water and made to stand in the alleyway until their limbs froze. At her lack of an answer, he opened the door and stepped aside, leaving the entryway open. She made no move, staring into the dark room as if she were staring right into her grave. He didn’t say a word, took his hand, and gave her a hard shove, making her trip and fall onto the floor. Stepping inside, he swiftly closed the door behind them. 

    “It’s a wonder he tolerates you. Were you my woman, I’d have killed you long ago.” He said quietly, lifting a hand to turn on lights, lights that were cold and blaring. The intensity of them made her see dots and she tried to blink them away. 

    “How much do you know about Matsuda?” He asked, surprisingly, in English. 

    “What is there to know… he’s just as much of a monster as you are.” Her response made him chuckle and he drew near, punishing her with a brutal slap across the face. Kneeling in front of her, he took hold of her face. 

    “Was a monster. Before he met you.” Wrapping that same hand around her neck, he forced her to stand. 

    “Before he met you, he would have made a woman like you strip before him, lay you on the ground, and fuck you until you bled.” She shuddered, nails digging into his wrist. Their conversation before he was deployed brought a chill to her. 

    “When he finished, he’d stand and calmly resume proper dress. Casually, he’d lift his gun to your head, ignoring your pleading and crying. And BANG!” She jumped. 

    “He’d pull the trigger.” He let go of her neck and turned his eyes to the right. 

    “Matsuda and I grew up in the same town but we never knew each other. I, however, had heard like all the other kids about his father. The great military leader who brought Japan victory against the Chinese rats. He was the son everyone wanted.” She said not a word, chin trembling. 

    “Matsuda was literally groomed for this by one of the greatest men of the Meiji era… He hasn’t gained any of his military career by bragging. He hasn’t gained it by pulling favors or by arrogance. He’s worked hard to accomplish what he’s gotten so far.” Looking at her again, he snarled up his lip.  

    “And then there’s you. There’s something about you, in particular, that makes him soft. Weak.” His eyes left her again. 

    “Perhaps to blame is his mother’s influence after his father died. Her feminine touch has marred his masculine abilities.” Taking a shaky breath, she slowly turned to look in the opposite direction he had.

    “He loves you. I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.” Turning her eyes back towards him, her heart pounded in her chest. 

    “As much as he loves you, he hates you. He wishes he could silence you, his enemy, once and for all, and make it as though you never existed at all. But, he can’t.” Stepping towards her, he grinned. 

    “I, however, don’t have to love or hate you. As the insignificant fuck hole that you are, I can make sure that your…’womanly influence’ does not threaten his legacy again.”

    “Again?” He didn’t reply. Finally, her eyes turned in the same direction he had and the sight of what was before her stopped her dead. 

    “I heard she was a friend of yours.” Her heart shattered into a million and one pieces and she couldn’t control the tears that had started to come to her eyes. No….. no it… it couldn’t….couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Ruby…Not Ruby… Grabbing her by the arm, he brought her closer. 

    “She’s fascinating to look at. It’s amazing how much she resembles a human.” Taking her face in his hand, he forced her to look, grinning as she began to heave. 

    “Maruta 308 is the first in a collection we hope to expand. We’re going to call it the Negro collection.” A shrill shriek left her throat and he let her go just in time as she began to vomit there on the floor. He watched her retch, a smirk forming. 

    “I was the one who introduced her to her death. She, like you, refused to obey me. She was a disobedient ape bitch.” Stooping, he lifted a hand to brush back her hair from her face. 

    “Like you,” 

    “Ruby…….Rubyyyyyyy….” She wailed, curling up into a call. Disinterested, he stood once more and looked upon what remained of the woman. It was simply magnificent what they had done, some of the best medical professionals in the world, let him tell it. They had cut the bitch completely in half, having to saw through her skull to expose her brain. They had placed the right and left half of her in two separate jars and each side showed all of her internal organs. Everything from the tendrils of her spine, heart, and intestines was there to witness. 

    They’d taken the child out of her womb and it too had its own jar. Its features were said to be the mixture of superior Japanese genes and that of the subhuman ape. Its chest cavity had been cut away, revealing its lungs, stomach, and other gastrointestinal organs. Its tiny heart and brain had been pickled separately in adjacent jars. Nakakawa’s favorite, appropriately called ‘The Negro womb’ was in a much smaller jar, even tinier than that of the child. Stretched from housing the child, it had been salted to shrink it and the shape of fallopian tubes and ovaries had begun to form once more. 

    “I’ll ask one last time. Take your dress off.” She tripped over her tears and for a moment couldn’t will herself to get up. But slowly, she lifted up onto fours and reached a hand onto the table to help herself stand. Face twisted in anguish, she didn’t bother to wipe away the remnant of vomit still cornering her mouth and chin. Unsteady fingers unfastened the buttons to her dress and he licked his lips at the skin being revealed. Soon, her breasts were uncovered and he stopped her shaky hands with one of his own. 

    “It amazes me how you and your kind are shaped.” He thought aloud, lifting to take one of her breasts in his palm. He pinched the mound with his fingertips. 

    “Your mouths and lips are useless unless wrapped around the cocks of men. But, your bodies are…strangely aesthetic. 308 had a more curvaceous figure. Her breasts were plump and large and hung low. Your figure is not as wide and fat. Slim…flat stomach. Thick round hips. Your breasts aren’t as saggy. They are round and protrude upwards, nipples are high and appealing.” He spoke his observations openly, taking one in between his pointer and middle finger. Brushing the soft smooth flesh of it, he pinched firmly. 

    “How he didn’t fuck you I don’t know. I can only imagine how wet and tight you are.” Letting go of her, he dropped a hand to massage his nether regions. With a lustful gleam, his eyes traveled down the rest of her. 

    “Turn around.” He ordered, beginning to unbuckle his belt. She felt stiff as she took step by step in a circle, her back now facing him. He roughly pushed her against the table, his breath hot on her neck. Hands slipped down and around her stomach and she felt vomit rise in her throat. Forcing her to bend over, he lifted her dress and jiggled the cheeks of her buttocks. Pressing her face into the table, she took deep breaths, feeling a rumbling in her stomach. Just as he spread her cheeks, a projectile stream of watery diarrhea erupted from her rectum. With a loud disgusted exclaim, he let go of her. 

    “Filthy bitch!” He hissed, gawking in disgust at the feces now wetly sprayed all over his uniform. Grabbing her by her hair, he threw her onto the ground and removed his belt. Striking her, he let out a furious growl as the lashes drew more of the fecal liquid, causing it to puddle underneath her. With one last thrash, he reattached the belt. 

    “Tomorrow, you will clean the latrines with your bare hands. That’ll teach you to behave.” Spitting on her, he stepped over her bruised body and left her there, laying on the floor. In the silence, her laughter turned to weeping. 

 

***

 

 

 

    It was unknown to me when I’d fallen unconscious. The pain was too great for my body to handle. When I came to, I was surrounded by members of the medical staff at Mukden. They assessed me and found that I was too disoriented to comprehend what was happening. Words jumbled together and I felt as though at any moment I’d take my last breath. It would be just over 24 hours before I would reach Mukden’s medical facility. By then, the beginnings of gangrene had started to set in. 

 

*** 

 

    They began to cut off the uniform, only to discover in horror that some of it had melted to his skin. 

    “We must hurry. That leg has to come off. Now.” 

    “What if he wishes to keep it?” 

    “Don’t be a fool. His foot is hanging off. He has no say in this. Not now.” Having been put to sleep, now he laid upon the surgical table limp. 

    “Scalpel.” Handing Nakakawa the small metal blade, he began to cut into the flesh of the leg. 

    “I should cut off his cock while I’m down here.” The old man grumbled, surprising some of the newer, younger surgeons. Nothing else was said as he performed the surgery and soon, the barely hanging on limb was removed. He had cut just below the knee and sutured it up nice and neat, his specialty. 

    “Take him to recovery bay and consult with his Captain pertaining to his future orders.”

    “Yes, Doctor.” 

 

*** 

 

    After such a long sleep, finally, he’d awakened. Opening watery blurry eyes, his gaze tried to adjust to the room. Turning his eyes he blinked as he set sight on a woman. She held his hand close to her face, almost as if she were praying. 

    “Bea?” The woman looked up, her cheeks flushed with color, eyes wet. 

    “No, Grandpa… it’s Asami.” Swallowing, he eyed the nightstand which still had the picture album he’d been looking through and his glass of water. 

    “Water.” Sniffling, she let go of his hand and handed him the glass. Wetting his throat, he struggled to swallow and began to choke. 

    “Jii-chan…” Wheezing, he lifted a hand, coughing the rest of the water up. 

    “It’s fine… I’m okay.” Clearing his throat, he sucked in a breath. 

    “How long have I… been asleep?”

    “14 hours.”

    “Fourteen?” 

    “Mmhm. You needed the rest.”

    “Not that much.” She didn’t argue, sitting back in her chair. 

    “For a moment I thought you were your grandmother.” The comment made her smile. He always had told her she favored her. And that, he always said, was why she was his favorite grandchild. 

    “You tell me that all the time.” He smiled to her surprise and grimaced in pain, making her stand. 

    “I’m trying not to be an old dying bastard. I’ve even opened up to Ito.” 

    “I see.” She said, tone proud of him, full of a smile. 

    “That boy still likes you.” Their college romance seemed so long ago but she couldn’t deny that sometimes, her heart still fluttered when he was around. 

    “We broke up so long ago Jii-chan.”

    “Whatever.” She began to laugh and grabbed his hand once more. 

    “May we go for a walk? I hear it’s supposed to be a gorgeous day today.” As was his way, he grumbled complaints and she helped him up. 

    “….too much like that woman. You sound just like her for fuck’s sake…” He said, frowning as she helped affix his prosthesis. 

    “Come on Grandpa…please?”

    “Hurry up and let’s go. Don’t annoy me.” They took their time and their steps were un-rushed. Down a stair, at a time and out through the backyard into a man-made trail he’d forged so many years ago when he and Grandma would take their walks. They’d go to this beautiful spot overlooking Mount Mansfield. Hugging his arm tighter, she pressed her face against his arm, closing her eyes to stop more tears from falling. On a day like this one, she wanted to remember a happier time. 

 

*** 

 

    Silence. Dead quiet. Never-ending still. A faint noise. It sounded like soft pitter-patter. A sprinkling shower. A delicate boom. Silence. Dead quiet. Never-ending still. A louder noise now. Louder pitter-patter. A slightly amplified boom. Faint voices now sounded like they were shouting… screaming… warped as if underwater. The boom grew louder, dissonant. Ringing ears. Louder. Louder and louder now. MATSUDA! MATSU-

    He shot up, soaked in sweat. Breath haggard, his eyes were wild and he tried to pick up his weapon… to fire against the approaching white bastards. But there was no gun. There was no bunker and no strewn body parts. 

    “Ichiro,” Chest heaving, he turned towards the voice. Beatrice. What was Beatrice doing here? She’d been sitting having taken his hand. Her eyes were wet as if she’d just finished crying. But now… now she stood, leaned over him, hands caressing either side of his face. 

    “Take a breath, soldier. You’re all right.” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest, bare and flushed. 

    “Lay back down.” At the gentle nudge, his back met the bed. He swallowed thickly, eyes trying to take in every detail about her. 

    “When did I-”

    “Two nights ago.” She answered, taking her hand away from his chest. She sat down and made no attempt to touch him any further. 

    “What of my men? Did they make it?”

    “I don’t know. You were lucky to survive as it is.” Taking his eyes away from her now, they focused on the singular window in the hospital room. 

    “My guess is that they had you so doped up on morphine. You’re coming to now… which means the pain will also come.” Silence between them now. He looked down at his body. They’d removed his uniform and he wore hospital trousers. Feet bare. One leg was normal. The other…the other was gone. 

    “It’s a disgrace.” He commented, looking at himself in disgust. 

    “You’re alive… what about that-”

    “To die on the battlefield is the highest of honor.” He hissed, turning angry eyes towards her. 

    “My men died beautiful deaths. And I-”

    “You did the best you could.” Sighing, she stood up. 

    “I’ll return later. I should get back to work.” Turning to leave, he grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. 

    “Under whose orders?” He questioned, tightening his grip on her fingers.  It took a while before she replied. 

    “Takahashi.” 

    “Consider those orders null and void.” She still hadn’t looked at him and he tugged her arm slightly, making her turn. 

    “Sit. Keep me company.”  She still said not a word as he pulled her closer. She sat back down in her chair and he withdrew his hand. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, unspoken words lingering between them. When the pain started to slice into him, she got up at once and went to retrieve a doctor. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: What's my favorite part of the whole chapter you ask? You didn't but I am GOING to tell you ANYWAY. My favorite part of the chapter and the part that brought me the most pleasure in writing was Beatrice s^&*ting allllllllll over Mitsuhide Takahashi. That was the most satisfying thing I think perhaps I've ever written right now. She's forever the Queen in my book.. forever.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Queen Bea. Reign faeva. lol. He deserved so much more than what happened and while I know that realistically, Beatrice would have been shot or tortured for a deep (and nasty let's face it but the girl was dealing with food poisoning) offense in real life, yeah I interjected my author authority here. 

Takahashi is a vile disgusting being. I can't call him a waste of human life because there's always room for redemption (not that we really want or need it from him honestly) but you get what I mean. I strongly DISLIKE HIM. 

So... Ruby... my precious Ruby. I borrowed this from an actual ' Jewish skeletal collection' of Jewish corpses documented by the Nazis to show scientific proof of their abnormalities. Yes, Nazis were really dissecting Jews and other undesirables, placing them in jars of formaldehyde and displaying them like you display a  table or tv. It hurt me... physically hurt me y'all to write that whole scene. I literally had to stop myself from crying afterwards.

May I request a virtual moment of silence for the men and women who were intentionally murdered, mutilated and put on display for an evil and sick agenda. Rest in sweet peace, all the spirits and souls who were never identified and to the only one out of the 87 who was, Menachem Taffel. Yehi zichram baruch. (may their memory be a blessing) 

Yehi zichram mahapecha​​​​​​​. 

(may their memory be a revolution) 

Here we have Ichiro undergoing changes. Physical and otherwise. In my research, I learned that it is extremely hard for some to grasp and accept the fact that they have lost a limb. Think about how traumatizing it would be to have your leg, arm, hand, foot, finger, etc had it all your life, took it for granted and then suddenly you don't have it anymore. That's extreme mental and emotional stress for anybody. Whew. The post traumatic stress took root with this battle (and all the others) but this one left a debilitating physical reminder that he couldn't ignore. 

Can I just say that I enjoy them together? When they aren't fighting and being jerks to each other. They're simply lovely when they allow themselves to just be and feel and exist in each other's space and company. It's hard given the circumstances but... it's nice. Okay, one more update to go and then I'm retiring to bed for work tomorrow hehe. 

 

P.S

I wanted to share the pictures that screamed Bea and Ichiro, referenced in the photo album. 

 

"Bea and Ichiro, " 

 

 

 

じゅうご by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

fourteen 

juugo 


 

 

 

 

The pain that followed my amputation was breathtakingly brutal. I fought a fever the first few days and the shock of losing a limb crushed me. Soaked head to toe in sweat, my skin felt as if it were being seared away from my bones. Through the severe fever and fighting off the infection, she stayed beside me. 

    Some mornings, I was incapable of speech, feeling as though I was losing my leg all over again. On those days, blood oozed profusely from the suture wounds. She’d take a rag and blot the sweat away from my hairline, face, and neck, humming to herself.  When the fever broke and the pain was tolerable, we sometimes sat in silence, other times we tried our hand at talking.

 

*** 

 

    “How did you fare when I was deployed?” The color was returning to his face and though his stump still bled, it was starting to lessen. The question made her look at him and away from the pair of trousers he was mending. 

    “How do you think I fared?” She answered, resuming her gaze on her hands. 

    “Bea,”

    “I fared fine! Takahashi and I went for long strolls in the evening and he took me to the countryside for picnics when he felt up for it. Is that what you want to hear?” Her sarcasm was rightfully deserved but he maintained his emotionless gaze. And silence. 

    “I learned a lot while you were off fighting my country.” She nipped and tucked the needle and thread. 

    “I learned that the Japanese love cutting people up and sticking them into jars of formalin. You even have collections as you call them.” Now, she stabbed the fabric. 

    “It was bad enough that they murdered Ruby and her child. What sense did it make to cut her corpse in half and display her mutilated body like an exhibit?”

    “I didn’t-”

    “I know you didn’t know. How could you know? You were off shooting and killing my countrymen.”

    “And they were shooting and killing mine.” He answered, voice rough. At that, her hands stopped stabbing the hemline. 

    “What would you have me do Beatrice? Lay my weapon down and surrender? Die at the hands of their bullets?” She took a shaky breath. 

    “Emotion serves no purpose on the battlefield. It’s kill or be killed. That’s the end of it.”

    “And what about the innocent people caught in the middle? What of the innocent children? What have they to do with this battlefield of yours?” He balled up his fists. 

    “If they happen to get caught in the crosshairs then there is nothing anyone can do about it.”

    “What if it’s intentional?”

    “What?”

    “Those inhumane beasts cut her child out of her. Sawed it in half and pickled its heart and brain. Is that being caught in the crosshairs?”

    “I have nothing to do with that.” Her nostrils flared. 

    “You’re a coward. A worthless, useless coward.” Anger sparked in his gaze and he reached for her but she evaded him, standing up. 

    “I’ve had enough for today. I can’t stand to look at you.” Throwing his hands on her chair, she left him in the hospital room alone. 

 

*** 

 

    Beatrice didn’t understand. Soldiers were humans too. Complex humans. We felt. Tried not to feel. Loved and hated. We too had opinions that we kept bitten underneath our tongues. It was just the way it was. There existed a daily struggle… the inward fight between right and wrong. The obligation to one’s country and…and to one’s own heart.

 

*** 

 

    

    When she came early in the morning, he was wide awake. His grunts of pain made her turn. 

    “Stop.” He grit out through his teeth. 

    “Don’t.” 

    “You’re in pain…you need morphine.” 

    “No….” Swallowing thickly, she turned to look at him. Wet with sweat, he breathed incredibly fast, nearly gasping in the breath. She bit the inside of her cheek and approached, even in her anger, she was concerned. 

    “Why are you torturing yourself like this? Just get some morphine.”

    “I said… no.” Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms and huffed, cutting her eyes at him. 

    “At least calm your breathing. You’re making me nervous.” He tried to inhale slower, wincing as a sharp slicing pain ripped through his stump. He squeezed his eyes shut now, barely able to lift his head. 

    “Slow breaths Ichiro.” Her voice was closer and he could feel the heat from her hand as it took his.

    “Slow breaths…” Her voice was calm and soothing, fingers lifting a rag to dab at the sweat on his forehead and temples. 

    “B-Beatrice-”

    “You’re not a coward. I’m… I’m sorry for calling you that.” He tried to speak once again but tightened up as another pain cut into him and he gripped the bedsheet for dear life, the veins in his neck popping out in strain. 

    “I haven’t stopped to think about you…what you…well…what you…feel…and don’t.” Though he couldn’t speak, his eyes opened and gazed up at her, giving her his undivided attention. 

    “I don’t know what it’s like… to be a soldier. I… I don’t know what it’s like being raised in a world like that.” Reaching over, she pried his hand from the sheet. 

    “I learned many things while you were away… like I said. Things about you.” The pain had subsided momentarily and he took the opportunity to speak. 

    “What kind of things?” 

    “Your upbringing. How you were raised.”    
    “Takahashi…” He spit out venomously. 

    “Yeah, he can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing.” She agreed, letting go of his hands. All but one. 

    “He was talking about how great your father was… how you admired and looked up to him.” His jaw grew tight. 

    “Now, I understand why you got upset when I talked about him. I’m… sorry about that too. I didn’t kn-”

    “You wouldn’t have.” Taking a shaky breath, she began to pinch at the skin on his hand absent-mindedly. He had observed that the behavior was a nervous tic. 

    “At any moment… should you have desired to… you could have dragged me to Unit 100…. could have offered me up as a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered. I could have suffered the same fate…as Ruby…” Her voice now had tears. 

    “But you didn’t… you haven’t. No matter how much I fight you. Disrespect you. Make you want to kill me. And yet you don’t. Why? Why don’t you just end it all?” He was silent for a long time, breathing hard through his nostrils as another wave of pain came over him. When it had passed, he attempted to answer her. 

    “I don’t know why.” He sounded genuinely conflicted as if he too had pondered and wondered the same thing. 

    “Admit it Ichiro. Admit it.”

    “Admit what?”

    “Stop it. Just… say it. Say what you have been trying to avoid.”

    “What would come of that? Would it cause our countries to stop fighting? Would we miraculously stop killing each other if I admit it?” 

    “No. It wouldn’t. But…at the very least… in all the fighting you have to do, that would be one less thing you’d have to struggle with.” He swallowed hard, so hard she heard it go down. 

    “I love you.” He said so quietly, that she barely heard anything but a breath.

    “What?”

    “I said…. I said I love you goddammit.” He grit out now through his teeth as one last wave of pain rippled through him. Turning towards her, he lifted their conjoined hands and brought them to rest against his forehead. Standing, she leaned down and pressed her face against his. As his haggard breath started to return to normal, she pressed one small kiss against his temple before letting go of him. 

 

*** 

 

    The admission felt foreign. It felt strange. Hearing what my heart knew out loud was nerve-wracking and I felt… I felt embarrassed. Truth be told, I’d fallen in love with Beatrice back in ’43. I’d fallen for her soft smooth lifting voice, the gentle way she caressed the music. I’d fallen for the way she smiled, her entire face glowing as she glanced over the crowd. Her laughter. 

    The woman had reached inside my chest and taken possession of my heart. A heart that was now pitifully laid in the palm of her hand. I hated the influence she had over me… hated that she made me soft. Weakness was still out of question and I tried so damn hard to reassert my ground. Gather familiar territories and boundaries. But, in the end, what good had it done me to fight her? She, made my enemy by war, was the healing balm that calmed and quieted my restless heart.

 

*** 

 

Post-op

Four weeks later 

 

    “How are you doing?” She stood oft by the nearest corner, by the door. Out of the way. His Captain had visited today and he saluted him immediately, making the move to sit at the edge of the bed. 

    “At ease, First Lt. Don’t strain yourself.” 

    “Sir.” The older man came to sit in the chair directly adjacent to him and removed his cap. His salt and pepper hair was combed back from his face and he looked quite stern as he glanced down at his stump, now healed enough to have started rehabilitation. 

    “How is it?” It. As if what he possessed was an infected eyesore. He maintained composure and answered calmly. 

    “It fares better, sir. I am honored you have visited me.”

    “You’re one of the best of the best I have. It’s a real pity that you cannot get back out there.” That reality too had been eating away at him and it had taken a long time to process it. 

    “How fare the men, sir?” The question that weighed on his mind night and day. At this question, the older man tightened his jaw and was reluctant to answer. 

    “Remove the woman.” He ordered, turning to glance at her. She grew stiff but kept her eyes down as the door opened for her to step outside. With her gone, he resumed his position in his seat. 

    “Of the 20,000 warriors sent to defend our homeland, all but 200 chose to honor us with their deaths.” He felt as though he had been punched in the gut and he inhaled shakily. 200 survived. Were captured. That’s what he wasn’t saying. 

    “The remaining soldiers who survived the battle are bravely hiding out until our reinforcements are able to retrieve them.” Taking in the lie, he bowed his head. 

    “What of my service, sir? How may I serve moving forward?” The man looked like he had thought about it too, labored and wrestled with it.     

    “You will still hold your rank as First Lieutenant. I shall still be your commanding officer. We shall commence forth.”

    “Sir?”

    “I’ll assign you to prepare our battalions in hand-to-hand combat as well as with guns and bayonets.” 

    “It would be an honor, sir.”  He salute him as he stood, jaw tightly locked. 

    “You will start as soon as your rehabilitation is finalized. Clear?”

    “Clear, sir.”

    “Long live the Emperor for ten thousand years!”

    “Long live the Emperor for ten thousand years!” With the parting finished, the door opened and she was allowed back inside, keeping her head low as the man glanced across her with a look of disgust. 

 

*** 

 

    Rehabilitation started soon after orders were cleared and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. Having to force my muscles to bend in their new form was excruciating. I pushed myself to the limit… past what I could bare and only then was I satisfied, torrents of sweat soaking the sheets. It was an arduous and slow process, but every step of the way, Beatrice was right there… silently motivating me to continue…to push harder… 

 

*** 

 

    After a month and a half in the hospital wing, he was finally discharged. The doctor had ordered consistent exercises to continue to build up his muscle strength. By now, he was able to lift his stump a few inches from the bed and bend and flex his knee. The recovery rate more than pleased his Captain and he sent his good wishes. Beatrice wheeled him out and to the left, towards his barracks. 

    Those same eyes who had watched them as they had walked to his car now stared at him as she drifted by them. Their pupils cut tiny holes into him, stabbing into his flesh. Keeping his eyes front and emotionless, he ignored the whispering from his fellow comrades. The prisoners of war kept quiet, eyes on the ground. The walk seemed like it took forever and at last, they were able to wheel right in. Unlocking the door to their shared space, both of them grew silent. It was as if they had never left. She cleared her throat and stepped past the threshold, pausing to lock the door. Turning, she saw him trying to stand. 

    “Wait… let me help you.” Coming around him, she held the wheelchair steady as slowly, he lifted up with his arms. Breathing in through his nostrils, he gripped the sides of the chair tightly, his body wobbling slightly. 

    “Here… your cane…” Grabbing onto it, he tried to take a step forward but couldn’t, his gait far too unsteady. 

    “Take your time Ichiro…” She said softly, outstretching her hand. She could tell he was frustrated…beyond irritated that he couldn’t move his body the way he once had. Where it had been easy for him to simply walk, now with half a limb it now seemed impossible. When he was ready, he took hold of her hand and put all his weight on the cane, moving to lift his sound leg forward. He succeeded for a moment, losing his balance thereafter. She yelped as he fell forward, jolting suddenly to catch him. They collided abruptly and nearly toppled over to the ground, save for her leg that had extended backward to give her some support. Breathless, the two of them tried to gain footing and she pushed him back up to stand upright. 

    “Why…why don’t we use the chair for now?” He didn’t say a word as he lowered himself back down into the chair. Wheeling him closer to his bed, she positioned the chair so that he could attempt to pivot. 

    “Give it a try.” She encouraged in front of him. With a sharp inhale through his nose, he lifted up with his biceps and grabbed hold of her. She held him for a moment and when he gave the okay, helped him turn a bit to pivot. Going down a bit unsteady, he took her down with him as he came in contact with the bed. She fell on top of him, splayed across his chest. He made a sound of frustration, a hard little grunt and let the cane leave his hand. 

    “We’ll keep trying.” She said breath winded. Lifting up onto her forearms, she slowly got off of him. He too had begun to sit up and with a hand on her waist stopped her from moving. Lifting the hand now, he gently grabbed hold of her jaw. In the quiet of the afternoon, he brought her lips to his in an assertive kiss, the force taking her breath. She tried to pry his hand away with stiff fingers but it was to no avail and they surrendered against his wrist. Separating, he breathed against her mouth, his eyes now growing dark with tell tale signs of desire. 

    A fervent second kiss happened just as quickly as the first and this time, an enthusiastic tongue drifted up against her lips, asking for entrance. A third one delighted her senses, as she allowed his tongue in, the intentional slow strokes of it against hers setting her skin on fire. She could taste their shared breath; feel the pounding thud of their combined heartbeat against her palm as it flattened against his chest.

     His hand now had slid up the small of her back and she felt herself drift further and further from reason. Separating all of a sudden, her breath was rapid and shallow and she pushed him back with that same hand, now firm against him. He made no move to grab or hold onto her, instead let his hand fall away from her completely. Without a word, she pulled away from him and went to fold up the wheelchair. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONORR. OMG I LOVE THEM. *sniff sniff* Ichiro's a strong man and he has a strong woman behind him that's why he's successful ahem ahem). Equally, in their ways they both are contributing to his success. Ichiro's a very mentally strong man (obvi) and he's focused on the goal at hand... maintaining his service. I think it is admirable that Captain Onada is allowing him to continue to serve instead of honorably discharging him.

Technically, he's a disabled soldier now which means that his worth has significantly lessened than a more 'able-bodied' counterpart. Realistically, I think he'd have been honorably discharged. I considered this but it would have ruined him I believe. Adding the trauma of having all his hard work at a military career stripped from him along with the loss of his limb would have just sent him spiraling into a deep dark abyss. I didn't want to do that to him. 

Plus, that would have ended the story with Bea so I again took some author liberties lol. Realistically, had that happened the two of them would have never seen each other again and Beatrice would eventually have been killed. So yeah, that's not happening lol. not in my book LOL 

My favorite part... him FINALLY admitting that he loves her (PRAISE GOD THANK YOU JESUS HALLELUJAH IT IS A MIRACLE LOL) and the ending lol. hehehehe. These kisses they are sharing is just spicy... umf. The little moments of intimacy is just *chef's kiss* They're still unsure about it...how to navigate them. But...they are no longer in denial.

 I based the lifting and pivoting on my own personal experience with helping a considerably taller patient once. He wasn't an amputee but he had trouble with mobility. I literally did what I wrote Bea doing and he literally pulled me on top of him LOL. We fell on the bed and I was so embarrassed lol. (I think he did that on purpose because honestly, he was one of those really flirty patients who always would hit on me... he was NOT slick). Long story short, I prevented that from happening ever again by asking one of my male co workers to come in with me and big surprise there... it neva happened again lol. andthatconcludesstorytimewithsunhalo lol. 

thanks for reading my dissertation and um lol 

I'll see you soon! 

love you. 

More grace and adundant blessings 

DL~

じゅうろく by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


juuroku 


sixteen 


 

Mid- to late April 

1945 

 

 

    “When you aim your weapon, be mindful of the recoil.” He circled around the group of young men, arm behind his back. In a fresh uniform, he eyed the young draftees as they attempted to learn. 

    “With the Type 92, you must be careful not to injure your shoulder upon impact. This weapon is a machine gun which means that it fires multiple rounds of ammunition simultaneously. “ As he walked down the line of them, live targets were placed in front of them. Some of the men, women, and children began to cry, others stony-faced. 

    “The trigger is highly sensitive and will fire. Be mindful of this also.” To his surprise, one enlisted soldier got up from the ground and turned to face him. Indignation in his gaze. 

    “How are you to instruct us when you can not even get onto the ground to fire the gun?” At once, every single soldier paused, even the ones tying the human targets to the posts. He clenched his jaw and a vein appeared in his temple. He had been waiting for it. The newest class of cadets was far too eager for battle and considerably unteachable. He had maintained patience and good grace but even those came at a limit. 

    “Be very careful, cadet.” He warned, walking right up to the boy. 

    “Of what? Your fake leg falling off?” Other than the slight flaring of his nostrils, he remained otherwise emotionless. 

    “You lost your manhood when the Americans blew your leg off. You can’t teach me anything.” 

    “Arimoto, you’re out of order!” 

    “He pretends to be this high and mighty leader but he is a hypocrite. He doesn’t know which side he wants to be on, ours or the enemy.” 

    “Resume your position, soldier.” He commanded, trying to restore order. 

    “Rumor has it that you have an American woman in your barracks. A Negro whore. Does she fill your head with enemy lies when she screws you?” 

    “Arimoto, cease the behavior this insta-” To the shock of them all, the boy kicked his foot outward, causing the flimsy  temporary prosthetic to buckle and fall off. At once he lost his balance and fell to the ground.  

    “You’re a disgrace. A crippled Japanese Lieutenant who fucks Americans. I’ll take no orders from you.” 

    “He’s drunk, take him back to the barracks.” He thought to let it go, him reeking of alcohol. But this unfortunate soldier had just as quickly ended his career as soon as he’d started it. 

    “I’m not going, Negro fucker.” 

    “Arimoto,” The group of them turned to see Captain Onada standing behind him, face red with fury. 

    “Sir!” He gave a sloppy salute. 

    “How dare you disrespect your superior officer. Have you lost your mind?”

    “Permission, sir.” He asked, drawing the attention away from the intoxicated baffoon.

    “To do what?”

    “Permission to reprimand, sir.” Sniffing, he eyed the young soldier and stepped past him. 

    “Granted. Carry on.” 

    “Yes, sir!” Taking his wood crutch, he struck the boy’s leg, the impact invoking a sick crunch. He hollered, reaching down for his leg, not paying attention as yet another blow smashed against his face. Blood dribbled out of his nose and mouth and he pulled himself up to rest on all threes. Steadying the crutch, he slowly lifted himself up to stand. With his one leg, he calmly made his way over to him. 

    “Let this serve as a consequence for coming to drill drunk. Next time, I won’t be so kind.” Turning, he faced the remaining stunned cadets. 

    “Resume position and take aim.” The crying now resumed in the targets.     

    “Fire,” And like that, it was once again eerily quiet. 

 

*** 

 

    I didn’t need any reminders. In the nearly two months since returning to base, I had been made more than aware of my… recent differences. I knew my fellow comrades talked shit behind my back, snickered, and sneered. They’d watch me by the side of the track in the early mornings that I’d go, doing push-ups and pull-ups to keep my upper body strength. They’d watch me as I did stretches and worked on my leg, pulling it up and in, to keep my lower body fit and tight. And the same with the stump. 

    Less of a man. Robot-man. Cripple. These insults were spoken and whispered in passing or in the mess hall. Quite elementary if you ask me. But it was all they could do. Whisper. After publicly reprimanding Arimoto, no one else dared to oppose me. Be it respect, fear, or both I was glad to have, wield and command it. 

    By the end of April, soldiers had been once more deployed to Okinawa to defend the island against enemy attack. Some called it our last stretch. Others were excited about our victory. Since coming back to base, a few things had become clear to me. Things weren’t as well as the upper echelons portrayed it to be. Since Io To, I’d never heard of the status of the soldiers supposedly ‘waiting for reinforcements’. They’d simply disappeared. There was frantic nervous energy now on the base. A sense of rushing and hurrying. If we bore the flag of the Emperor well then what was the rush? 

    Of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. Perhaps now I could relate to what the soldier had mentioned way back in the bunker. Perhaps he was on to something. 

    It was hard trying to deal with what fate had dealt me. It was hard having to learn a new way to exist in this body of mine. But, my mind would not allow surrender under any circumstances. It was not in my genetic makeup to quit. Just as I had to adapt, so had Beatrice. So had Takahashi. So had we all.

 

*** 

 

    He’d been waiting by the infirmary now thirty minutes. Lifting his dying cigarette to his mouth, he inhaled the last of the nicotine and blew the smoke away from him, lifting his foot to crush it to ash. The sound of huffing brought his gaze upward. There she stood, crouched over breathing heavily. Smirking, he cleared his throat. She glanced up and at his eyes, stood upright. 

    “I’m late… I know.” He waved a hand in dismissal, viewing the evidence of her busy day. Her cream linen dress was covered in blood and her once neat hair had been hastily pulled back and up into a puff shape. 

    “It’s accepted.” Finding her breath, she gave a nod. Without much else to say, the two of them began to walk, her arms folded up against one another, his behind his back. The walk was comfortable for a while before he chose to speak. 

    “Takahashi will be deployed to Okinawa.” Her face revealed her disdain for him. 

    “Is that so?”

    “Mm.” More silence. Feet at a comfortable pace on gravel. 

    “I hope they shoot him.” He chuckled, bringing her gaze upward. He knew she didn’t care for him. But then, neither did he…much. 

    “That’s quite unladylike of you to say, Beatrice.” He teased, lips still smirking. 

    “When have I ever been considered a lady in here?” She retorted with a snort, rolling her eyes.  

    “Once if I remember correctly.”

    “When?”

    “Our last outing. I can’t quite call it a date.” At that, her indignant posture fell flat and now she appeared sheepish. 

    “I have considered trying my hand at it again. A date between us.” In the low light of the alleyway, her cheeks grew warm. But, she still hadn’t said much. Since his admission, things between them had improved…ever-so-slightly. They’d been taking whatever this was between them extremely slow… And to the best of their ability. It was still grossly uncomfortable at times, given their positions… given the war still at hand. But, at the very least, they no longer tried to hide it… no longer tried to fight it. They both had reached the stage of acceptance. 

    “That sounds nice…” She finally input, gripping her fingers together. Inhaling through his nose, he gave a single nod and nothing else was said on their walk. 

 

*** 

 

    She had started to go to the infirmary and it was there that she kept herself busy tending to the wounded. Beatrice was not a woman to keep inside and I had seen what being isolated had done to her. Alone with her thoughts and her memories, a debilitating depression had come upon her. Since going to the infirmary, however, I’d seen a change in her in that time. She was resembling more and more of the woman I’d seen on the stage that fateful night in ’43. A passionate woman. A woman who had found renewed purpose. I had no idea that what I was witnessing was the beginning of Bea’s nursing career. 

 

*** 

 

    Sighing, she sat down on her bed and pulled off her shoe. Rubbing her foot, she groaned. He removed his cap and placed it on the knob of the chair. Going over to the tub, he started to run water. It had been a trying day for them both. She, with the wounded soldiers, and he with the cadets. In the quiet, they shared a collective sigh. 

    “Your birthday. When is it?” 

    “What?” She asked absent-mindedly, looking up to see him undressing. 

    “Your birthday.” He repeated, slipping out of his shirt. He’d laid his uniform jacket next to him on the bed. 

    “July 7th.” She answered, lowering her gaze back to her feet. 

    “Hm.” Is all he said and the sound of familiar rustling told her that he now was naked. She kept her gaze down as the sound of the crutch neared the direction of the tub. A small grunt of exertion and she looked up to see him sitting on the rim of the tub, back facing her.  

    “Yours?” She found herself asking as he lowered himself into the water. 

    “December 29th.” He answered, reaching for the bar of soap. She laid back against her bed, listening to the trickle and plink of the water as he bathed. Opening her eyes, she turned to glance at him. He’d always been…well built. A dedicated early morning routine proved that. While he’d always been lean and strong, he appeared to be even wirier than before. The muscles in his back and biceps rippled and strained as he lifted the bar of soap to his hair, once again a little past his ear. 

    “You might as well get in if you’re going to stare, Bea.” He murmured, lathering his strands. 

    “I’m not staring…” She shot back, entire face heated. He lowly chuckled, but otherwise, kept quiet as he finished soaping his head. Biting the inside of her cheek, she slowly got up and winced at a sharp little pain that traveled through her feet. Gently unbuttoning her dress, she pulled it away from her and laid it on the bed. 

    Feeling her heart start to pound in her chest, she approached the tub. It hadn’t been the first time they’d been naked around each other by any means. But, it was easier to ignore anatomical features when you were angry or in denial. Now, they weren’t in denial and at the moment they weren’t angry at each other. Covering her chest, she inched closer until she stood by the rim. He hadn’t turned towards her but he seemed to know where she stood and moved down, giving her space to get in. 

    Slowly, she climbed in and sunk down, hiding her chest. He turned to look at her, eyes teasing. 

    “I’ve already seen them. No need to hide them.” He mused, flashing his teeth at her. 

    “Perverted son of a bitch.” She exclaimed, splashing him with water. He laughed then, the sound distinctly him… a perfect blend of rich and smooth melody with a slight rasp. Huffing she rose up out of the water and pursed her lips. 

    “Gimme that damn bar of soap. Nasty bastard.” Handing her the soap, he grinned as she snatched it and wet her hair. Lathering, she turned away from him, lips pouting. She heard him go underwater and closed her eyes, enjoying the bar rubbing against her scalp.  A wet exhale of breath told her he’d surfaced again and it was then that she chose to put down the soap. Going for her hair, her fingers grew stiff as she felt his slip into her strands. Her mouth gaped open as he began to scratch lightly with his nails. 

    “I can do it myself…” She breathed, feeling embarrassment flush her. 

    “I know.” He answered, pulling her head back against his chest. Her mind raced with all the comebacks she could muster but they all fell flat as he worked the suds through her hair from root to end. 

    “Ichiro,”

    “Shh.” He hushed against her ear, slowing his fingers into a leisurely scratch. She relaxed against him with a small sigh and he let his fingers drift out of her hair. Lifting those burly arms, he wrapped them around her shoulders and pulled her back against him flush. In the semi-darkness of the room, they remained in their embrace for a moment longer, enough that the heat from the water paled in comparison to that of their flesh. Letting go of her, he pulled away. The sun had set long ago and now with night as her backdrop, she sank underwater, rinsing the dirt and soap from her hair. Coming up, she lifted her hands to wipe the water away from her eyes. 

    His gaze slowly traveled from her face, stabbing sharp little prickles of heat into her collarbone, delicate and small. From her collarbones, they fell to her breasts, each so perfect and molded to her form. His gaze didn’t linger there too long and he lifted a hand, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. 

    Taking his thumb, he gently parted her lips. Her breath had begun to grow heavy and the desire she tried so hard to conceal now openly looked up at him. Withdrawing his hand, he left her completely then, climbing out of the tub. 

 

 

    ***

 

 

    There was something disarming about seeing Beatrice naked. There was a vulnerability in her body language, in her eyes, in her arms as they tried to shield herself that made it hard to resist her. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on and I wanted to know her even more.

     My hands wanted to roam her, touch, squeeze and hold her. My lips wanted to taste, skim and graze her. I wanted to dive into the endless sea that lived between her curved, sensuous thighs. I hungered for the ungodly contact in hopes that she would absolve me of my sins. Weakness. She had long ago proven to be a weakness… where once I fought against her… where once I hated the reality of her…now, my heart embraced her as the only weakness I would ever allow myself to have.


End Notes:

 

A/N: Hey fam fam! I hope your weeks have been productive, well and full of blessings. If not, then I'm believing that next week will be! I wanted to upload some more chapters for you this week. I will be going on a week to two week writing break lol. I've been writing for almost three full weeks straight lol. I need a breath lol.

So, can we talk about about the little jerk who tried to challenge Ichiro though? Like... sit down. I loved that Ichiro played it so cold and cool. He popped that shin real quick LOL. #thatsfunnyandIenjoyedwritingit lol Also, my other highlight of the chapter is Ichiro and Bea's increasing moments of intimacy.

I wanted to explore the other avenues of intimacy, as there are more than just physical/sexual. There's something so warm and beautiful about Ichiro opening up and sharing an emotional connection to her... craving it. Him being able to express what he feels... in a space where he won't feel judged or criticized... it just does somethin to me. The teasing/flirting is just fire as usual LOL.

Whereas Ichiro receives emotional intimacy, Bea receives more confidence of showing her body which as we all know is HUGE. Considering HER history with being naked and having her body be abused, her coming up out of the water and not hiding anymore.... not closing herself up in a watery cocoon for safety... it just made me tear up.

The act of him washing her hair... y'all. I think that is possibly one of the sexiest things a man can do for his lady. Hair, if y'all remember, to me is a gift from God and sacred LOL so like... the fact that he's transferring his love into the tender care he gives is just *starts crying again*  They are taking things slow as they should. Feeling each other out and getting to know each other.

I have three more chapters to update so please come along with me hehe.

DL~

じゅうなな by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

juunana 

 

seventeen 

 

    Over the following one to two weeks that passed, her grandpa grew considerably weaker. He didn’t have enough energy to go for walks and had to be permanently bed-bound. He could barely swallow anymore and because of it, had stopped eating. Watching him grow more and more feeble broke her heart in two. Some days, she’d stand outside of his room and sob, his own cries of pain too much to handle. Hospice nurses came every day, seeing to it that he was changed, bathed and his stump cared for. They worked tirelessly for 12 to 16-hour shifts at a time and she offered them to stay at the house should they be too tired to drive home. Some took the opportunity, others didn’t. 

    “Sami,” One such day, his weak whimpers were so bad she had to leave the room and she had come to stand in the hallway. Sobbing into the palms of her hands, she let the grief and anguish come out. Wiping her tears, she’d looked up to see Takeru. Wordlessly, she ran into his arms and began to weep. He lifted his arms to enclose her and he held her tight, sheltering her from everything and everyone. 

    “It’s okay baby girl…” His voice was calm and steady and it was everything she needed as her heart smashed to pieces. 

    “Let’s go outside. Hm?” Nodding against his chest, she let him take her by the hand and lead her to the patio. 

    Taking a trembling breath, she sniffed loudly as he handed her some tissues. 

    “I never thought it would hurt this bad…” She bawled, trying to catch her breath. He took her hand and gently caressed it, his expression that of deep sadness. 

    “I…I knew he was… gonna die… but… it… it hurts so much…” She released a watery sigh and withdrew her hand, lifting them to wipe away her tears. 

    “This must be… how he felt with Grandma…” 

    “Sami…” 

    “It’s all he had left of her…he couldn’t destroy it.”

    “Destroy what?” Lifting red watery eyes, she looked him in the eyes. 

    “The room.” His office. 

    “He didn’t want to forget how it happened. How… how they met.” Swallowing thickly, he looked down at their conjoined fingers. 

    “Take…” Looking up, the expression on her face ruined him. 

    “Please take good care of it.”

    “What are you talking about?” But she couldn’t answer because she’d gotten up and started to go back into the house. Take good care of what? 

 

*** 

 

    A car door shut behind her and she felt a hand slide up across her back. Swallowing thickly, she tried to calm her nerves as the two of them began to walk. They’d been here once before… on a day much chillier than this. The click of her heels on the pavement alerted the servants inside of their arrival. Stepping up the steps, a single rap against the door notified their desire to enter. Much like before, a pretty Chinese woman came to the door, a different one. Dressed though in the same style of qipao, her smile was big and friendly as she opened the door. 

    “Welcome, First Lieutenant Matsuda. Welcome, Miss. Please, follow me.” They followed the woman, past the beautiful Greco-Roman fountain and indoor Chinese garden. Going upstairs, she led them to the part of the house where they were both familiar. The elegant European balcony overlooked the garden. Sounds of Glenn Miller and Cab Calloway caught her attention first. How sweet it sounded and she stopped mid-way, mouth open in shock. The woman bowed low and silently left them alone. Going to the elaborately decorated table, he removed his hat. 

    “Sound familiar?” He asked, turning to look at her. Her heart raced and a myriad of emotions flooded her system, making her a bit lightheaded. The tears came first… So detached from the outside world, she had nearly forgotten how they sounded…how good and sweet it was.  Gladness filled her heart next. Then an unspeakable joy burst inside of her and she began to sing and dance along, forgetting for a moment that he was even there. Jumpin Jive….The spirit of Joe rested in the song and she had no choice but to sing for him, let him know that she still had it… still carried him in her heart. She picked up her dress, and moved along to the hopping beat, fresh invigorating horn, and Cab’s scatting. 

    He stood by his chair and lifted his water to his mouth. Watching her get lost in the rhythm was a spine-tingling experience.  She was alluring as she moved, her body seeming to be possessed as she danced and she didn’t return to herself until after the music had continued, playing another tune. Taking deep breaths, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. A pretty pink flushed her cheeks and she lifted her hands into that nervous tic of hers, fingers ready to pinch the skin. 

    “Sorry…I…I just had to for Joe…” Putting the glass back on the table, he began to approach her. The dress he’d purchased for her fit perfectly, outlining a much fuller figure than the last time they’d come to this place. The slightly puffed shoulders of the dress gave an appropriate feminine touch. The sweetheart neckline provided a delicate tease of her neck which was decorated with a simple gold necklace.

     The colors of the dress only accentuated her beauty, rich summery yellow and orange, pops of green exploring a playful pattern of oranges ripe from the vineyard. Her hair now nearing the small of her back was twisted and tucked, giving herself the illusion of a coiffed bang. Her ears were bare and so was her face. She needed nothing else. He lifted a lone finger and caressed her cheek. 

    “An apology is not necessary.” Her lashes were wet from tears and he didn’t want to see them for the rest of the evening. Tonight was about celebration. 

    “You didn’t…need to do this Ichiro.” She breathed as he glided his thumb across her chin. 

    “I don’t need your permission.” He said quietly, reaching up to tease the soft smooth flesh of her bottom lip. 

    “I must confess that I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He said with a sigh, his touch leaving her altogether. 

    “I’ve never… courted a woman before.” She couldn’t help a tiny understanding smile and reached for his hand. 

    “Don’t think too hard about it. Let’s just go with the flow and see where it takes us.” Tightening his grip on her hand, he gently pulled her towards the table. Once seated, she picked up the menu. 

    “Unfortunately, it’s the same as it was last time.” 

    “I wasn’t going to complain.” She said with a small smile, placing it down. 

    “Would you like a drink?” He asked, reaching into his pocket for that cigarette case. 

    “If possible, yes.” 

    “Here she comes,” He said, lighting the nicotine stick with a match. 

    “Your bouillon will be out shortly. May I retrieve anything for you, Miss?” She asked in English, a sugary sweet smile plastered to her face. She knew a fake smile when she saw it. 

    “No, ma’am. I would like a Mai Tai, please. Do you have those?” She asked in a delicate Wu accent, stunning the woman; who glanced towards Ichiro.  His waved hand gave her the clearance to return the language. 

    “Yes, we have Mai Tai. May I get you something else?”

    “A Major Bailey for him, please. Not too much ice.” 

    “Of course.” 

    “Thank you. In case you don’t hear it enough.” She said with a smile, watching as the woman hurried out of the room, sure to tell the others that she knew Mandarin. 

    “I trust that you weren’t conspiring with her.” He commented in Japanese, lifting his water to drink. 

    “You’ll never know will you?” She teased back, lips smirking.  

    “Watch yourself, woman.” 

 

*** 

 

 

 

    Standing outside of his room, he felt his palms sweat. This was far above his pay grade. He only wanted to do his job and go home. The door opened and one of the hospice nurses gave him a friendly smile. 

    “He wrote this letter for you. Please read it at your discretion.” Handing him the folded paper, she closed the door once more. Swallowing his lung, he wiped his palms on his pants and opened the letter. 

 

    Ito, 

    I don’t have much longer. I am trusting you with my story. I’m trusting you with Bea’s story. Whether you do it out of feelings for Asami or not does not concern me. Don’t make this old son of a bitch regret his choices. 

 

 

 

In true Matsuda fashion, he kept it short, sweet, and a little bit crass. What the hell did he want him to do? Why him of all people? Folding the letter up, he pushed off of the wall, nostrils flared. 

 

*** 

 

    Warm. She felt warm. Relaxed. Tipsy. The sounds of Glenn serenaded her and she had kicked off her shoes underneath the table. 

    “I’ve never asked you how you came to Shanghai.” His voice was low and quiet. But his eyes… the gin had made his eyes come even more alive and the way those dark intense eyes looked at her was just as intoxicating as the Jamaican rum she licked from the corner of her mouth. 

    “What do you know about the American South, soldier?” She asked, voice playful and light. 

    “I’ve never heard of a place like that.” 

    “Well then, let me tell you somethin’.” She leaned back in her chair. 

    “You’re takin’ to a Southern Belle as they call it. Wasn’t nothin’ glamorous about my life though.” 

    “Explain.” 

    “I’m from Alabama, originally. Huntsville to be exact.” Lifting her second drink of the evening, she took a sip or two. 

    “Down there, it’s hotter than hell and feels like it too.” She sighed, placing the drink down on the table. 

    “You ain’t ever heard about lynching either, have you?” 

    “No.” Licking her lips, she lifted her foot up to rest on his thigh. 

    “The whites love to lynch us. For no reason at all most times. Just for the hell of it. Because they’re bored or mad about somethin’. They go and find the nearest house, take a group of em with them with guns and other weapons.” She had his undivided attention. 

    “They lynch everybody, it don’t much matter. The men they love to cut up, dismember em’ and take their parts home as trophies. They love raping the women, say we are wild and sex crazy. Then the children they don’t much care for. If they babies they throw em up in the air and shoot em dead.” His throat had grown tight now and she removed her foot from his lap. 

    “They lynched my daddy. Took him and hung him up from the tree in our front yard. For no other reason than because he hadn’t gotten off the sidewalk fast enough for a white woman.” 

    “Bea,”

    “Our family skipped town and moved to Chicago. It was different and the race laws were different but it was better than Alabama.” Taking another drink of her cocktail, she lifted her foot again, placing it back in his lap. 

    “We did that for a while before coming to Shanghai. Momma and the rest found Shanghai too hard to adjust to and moved back to America but Joe and I stayed.” The way he looked at her now was full of contemplation and she would give anything to break up the dreary tension. Wiggling her toes, she watched as the action drew his gaze down and she laughed at the surprise on his face. 

    “Smile, soldier. Everythin’ happens for a reason doesn’t it?” He grabbed hold of her wiggling toes, eyes resuming their intense gaze upon her. Yeah, that was more like it. 

    “I suppose it does.” He answered, sinking his nail into the flesh of her foot. She jolted and sat up with a gasp. He challenged her with a raised eyebrow, a slight smirk teasing his lips. 

    “Now that wasn’t nice.” She said with a pout, sitting back in her chair with arms crossed. His nail left her and in place, fingertips and thumbs began to gently rub and knead the tired limb. A sound she’d never made before came trickling out of her mouth and it made his fingers press in a little more, evoking it again. 

    “You never listen to what I tell you.” He said, watching as her head fell back. 

    “You like that, remember?” She said with a small little chuckle, eyes opening to glance at him. He didn’t answer verbally, instead, letting his fingers answer as they drifted up from her foot to her ankle, from her ankle to her calve. His touch electrified her and left her nearly panting. 

    “Would you like dessert?” The sudden intrusion of the server startled her, making her yank her leg back. She glanced up at the woman, who smiled as phony as ever. 

    “Ah… um… no… I’m fine without it, thank you.” She stuttered, taking the appearance of a child caught doing something wrong. The sight deeply humored him. 

    “I would.” The woman turned to him. 

    “What would you like, sir?”

    “Nothing now. Later.” He answered, briefly glancing up at the woman. She bowed deeply and dismissed herself. With a clearing of the throat, she smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her dress. 

    “Did you want to take a walk?’ 

    “If you’d like.” 

    “Yeah. I think we need some fresh air.” Acquiescing, he got up from the table as she slipped back into her heels. Extending his arm, the two began their stroll.

 

End Notes:

 

A/N: *sad face* Our main man... The character I struggled not to hate but now am like a protective mother over... is... dying. We knew this but still... it hurts to admit it, witness it... *sigh* I have to say that writing the moments he has shared with Beatrice Jones is perhaps my favorite part of this whole body of work LOL. They've come such a long way... *sobs*

They never would have thought that they'd be here... in this place of being amiable towards one another. I feel so good knowing that they have been able to slowly but surely move past the former interactions. They aren't perfect and they both have their faults (that will raise their heads from time to time) but... they're human and they are in love and they are... trying. As long as you TRY, anything beautiful can be born. 

Our Bea's a southern belle hehe from 'Bama. Love that southern twang coming out. Shows that she's comfortable. (could alsoooo be the booze but lol) Her dance for her brother made me cry. I've been a whole emotional mess writing this work y'all I just... man. lol. *that's why I need a break LOL* In a way... it's like... Bea chose to celebrate his life in joy instead of rehearsing the memory of pain. That's POWERFUL. Of course, it's going to take her a long time to heal from her brother's death (understandably so) but... a seed of healing has taken place.

Do NOT ask me why this is the second story with the maile lead having a thing for feet. I DON'T KNOW OKAY. I'm flowing here LOL. I've never really delved into kinks before in my writing in great detail so this is something that both makes me uncomfortable and excited because it shows that I'm growing even more in my artistry. *sniff*

AND WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH TAKERU ITO AND ASAMI MILLER LOL. HELLO. OOF SOMETHING IS SHIFTING WITH THEM TOO. I AIN'T FORGET ABOUT THAT NOW LOL. 

Kay, two chapters to go hehe.

DL~ 

 

Bea's dress and hair (the second one) hehe: 

 

じゅうはち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


juu hachi


eighteen 

 

 

 

 

    Their walk had led them into the courtyard, their steps slow and easy. 

    “Tell me about your family.” She asked softly, enjoying the feel of his arm against her cheek. 

    “Anything specific you want to know?” 

    “Hmmm…” She balled up her lips in thought. 

    “Do you have siblings?” 

    “A younger sister.” Her mouth formed a surprised ‘O’. 

    “Her name was Mitsuko.”

    “Was?” He was quiet for a while and she glanced up at him, thoughts of pushing him too far past his comfort limit in her mind. He sighed finally before answering.

    “She was hit by a streetcar.” 

    “Oh…I’m… I’m sorry…”

    “It happened when we were young.” He dismissed and she nibbled her lip some. 

    “I was born in Kurashiki, a small merchant village. It used to be the main rice supplier back in the 1600s up until 1860s. Most of life hasn’t changed since then.” She listened as they strolled, the soft trickling of the fountains supplying a peaceful atmosphere.

    “My country has a long history of civil war, militarism, and brutality. For nearly 400 years, it is all we have known.” Letting that sink in, she slipped her hand down to his, grasping his fingers. The action made him look down and she could feel his eyes boring holes into her but she kept her gaze elsewhere. He spoke again, fingers tightening on hers. 

    “My father was born and raised in Kurashiki as well in a period called Edo. Not far removed from the struggle of the previous generations of war, famine, and poverty. He grew up in a time when our country was attempting peace within its own borders.” 

    “Hm.”

    “He was very proud to be Japanese. Very proud of our land… our way. He raised me to be the same.”

    “I suppose it’s no different from Americans being proud to be American.” She commented, smiling up at him. He didn’t return her smile but his expression was receptive to her words. 

    “He died when I was eight years old. His vast military influence and prestige encouraged me to follow in his footsteps.” They came to a stop, now under a black starless sky. Chinese lanterns had been lit and they cast a soft dreamy glow upon him. In the low light, he looked striking and mellow. The gin had also relaxed him and encouraged him to open up. Looking up at the sky, she caught a glimpse of a smile… a little one that tugged the corner of his mouth. 

    “At home, there is an old canal…from a time before mine and even my parents. When I was a child, I would chase Mitsuko on the bridge. My mother would always be so worried,” His voice had softened slightly as he allowed the memory to caress his mind. 

    “Rolling hills and mountains that seem to touch the sky. Lush fertile earth and peaceful quiet streams and seas. Modest, laidback people with a passionate spirit who work hard. That’s Kurashiki. That’s Japan.”

    “Sounds beautiful,”

    “We aren’t too different.” He said, eyes drifting down to hers now.  

    “And here I thought you were born a monster.” She pulled her hands away and hugged them behind her back, walking off now a bit ahead of him. 

    “Monsters are made. Not born, Beatrice.” She kept walking, her feet leading her nowhere in particular. 

    “The big bad wolf has a heart. Who would have thought?” Stopping, she turned to see him standing behind her, hands in his pockets.     

    “Your father. Do you miss him?” He dropped his gaze and at that moment, he appeared so tragically human it made her heart break. His whole world had crumbled to pieces when his father had died… just like hers did. She imagined for him, it was harder being that he was a boy. Men needed their fathers in more ways than one. Mothers could raise them, but it was not her place or in her ability to teach, guide, and show them how to be a man. 

    “I miss my daddy too. Joe tried to become the father that we both were robbed of. I miss them both so much.”

    “Your brother. My sincerest apologies.” She drew nearer, pressing a gentle hand against his chest. 

    “It’s been easy to put you in the same place as all the others who are from where you are. It’s been easy to say that you’re all bastards and deserve to go to hell. But,” She laid her cheek now against the place where her hand had once been. 

    “I’ve… I’ve been wrong. I think I understand your heart better now.” She heard him swallow and his arms lifted up to close around her. 

    “You’re chilled.” He observed, voice quiet and raspy. 

    “You’re keeping me plenty warm.” She said, lifting her head.  Lifting a hand from her back, he reached for her chin, his touch was surprisingly tender and light. Pulling her upward, their lips locked in a tender salutation. There was that sound again…it was quiet and sweet as it left her throat, a tiny testament of pleasure. His hand slipped down from her chin and down around her waist, pulling her flush against him. 

    She wasn’t aware that they were moving, his legs leading them back… back until she pressed against a wall of ivy and stone. Lips separating, they pressed their foreheads against each other, breathing, hands and arms flush with heat. She was utterly breathless, caught in the middle of absurdity and incoherency as he pressed tiny little kisses against her neck; soft smooth lips sucked skin and his teeth sank into flesh. At the soft hum that vibrated against him, he let go of the once unmarked skin. 

    His hands carefully explored her body, following the bends, arches, and twists of her curves. His touch was contemplative and intentional as they roamed her, his fingers arousing a titillating hunger and thirst inside of her. Their lips met again, a passionate mess of soft gliding lips and warm wet tongue. His fingers continued their search, taking bits and pieces of her dress in their captivity along the way. At last, they seemed to find what they were looking for.

Taking hold of her thighs, he lifted her up into his arms with ease, her legs enclosing him ever-so-slightly. In the distance, a newer, wilder kind of jazz played and it matched the energy almost perfectly. Her body began to tremble both with fear and delight and as his lips kissed and his tongue tasted, she tried to make sense of the way her body was reacting. Her skin was now extremely sensitive and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She felt lightheaded and disoriented… her thoughts a jumbled heap. Every part of her had awakened to the experience and it puzzled her. The nipples on her breasts were stiff and between her legs, she felt as though she had peed herself when she knew she hadn’t. It was strange what was happening to her. 

    She wanted his lips. His hands. Fingers. She wanted his tongue and teeth… she wanted his breath and warmth…. she wanted every bit and piece of him to mold, shape, and form her into nothingness and into everything. But then again… she didn’t…. she was afraid of the want… the incessant need that built up every time he looked at her…every time he touched her. She was so afraid of what would happen should he take her into his hands and crush her. 

    She’d begun to pant against him as his hands slipped further up under her dress, closer to where the need radiated. 

    “Ichiro…” His voice vibrated a response against her in a quiet hum. So close now, she couldn’t handle it…Digging her nails into his wrists, she brought his hands to an abrupt halt. The action made him grow still and her heavy panicked breaths drew his gaze. She could barely speak, gasping for air, nails impaling his flesh so hard it stung. 

    “Beatrice,” He called, making her disorganized eyes find his. 

    “I…I’m not ready…” Her voice now was small and broken and he inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as he pressed his forehead against hers. He placed her feet back onto the ground. Taking his hands away from her, he cleared his throat. She seemed to calm down some and he offered a little smile. 

    “I think now is an appropriate time to blow out a candle to celebrate your birthday. Hm?” Taking a shaky breath, she nodded. 

    “Sounds nice.”

 

*** 

 

    Jazz, cigarettes and ice cream carried us late into the night and by the time we returned to base, she’d fallen asleep on my lap. Her breath was light and relaxed and her face soft and serene. She looked like an angel. While she rested, my mind was all over the place. Reeling from her rejection, I couldn’t help but reflect on her jarring response. Like a deer in headlights, in that moment she had been transported to another place. A place where she walked with her pain, lived with her pain and was reminded of it at every turn. 

    I was silent as I lifted her up into my arms, walking the short distance to the barracks. With the car now driving away, I opened the door and flicked on the light, taking step by step before reaching our quarters. Stepping inside, I headed towards her bed and lowered her down upon it to lay. 

    Wordless, I went to lock the door. Sighing heavily, I took off my cap and removed my uniform coat. Hanging it up, I glanced back at her as I began to unbutton my shirt. She slept deeply now and one of her heels dangled off of her feet. I figured it wouldn’t be proper to undress her so I left her as she was, save for removing her heels. Climbing into bed, I turned away from her and stared at the wall. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell there for long… on my own misdeeds. When this fucking war was over... then perhaps it would be time. Until then, I had to remain a soldier. 

 

*** 

 

    It was strange. This feeling. He didn’t know what had caused it. Perhaps it was the connection and history he previously had with Asami. Perhaps it was the inward desire to understand the man he’d feared for so long. As he stood outside of the Matsuda house, pulling his pockets nearly to shreds, he made a decision. Lifting his fist, he knocked on the door. After a little while, he could see Meredith through the door’s sheer set of window treatments. Opening the door, the young woman didn’t hide her shock at seeing him. 

    “Mr. Ito? What are you doing here? You aren’t scheduled today.” Swallowing sand, he took a breath. 

    “Is Ms. Asami home?” Shaking her head no, his heart began to pound. 

    “She left out earlier this morning.” He wanted to run but stayed put. 

    “May I come inside?” Blinking, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter. 

    “Um… Mr. Matsuda…” His throat grew tight. 

    “I’ll make you some coffee.”

    “Thanks Mere.”

    “Yeah, sure.” She said with a friendly smile, leaving him in the foyer. Alright, you son of a bitch. Don’t back out now.Said in Matsuda’s rough voice in his mind, he pulled his hands up into fists and headed towards the office. 

 

*** 

 

 

 

    Groans of pain filled the ward and nurses rushed to and fro, carrying tools and other items for wound care. In the time that she’d been there, she’d come in contact with a lot of different people. All walks of life existed and dwelled in the infirmary. It fascinated, horrified and excited her. The infirmary was run by a few captured sisters of a British Nunnery, all who had extensive knowledge of medicine. As they ran here and there over to the wounded, she stood by the door. She’d taken to standing there, waiting to be included. 

    “You, Negro. What business do you have here?” A Japanese soldier demanded, approaching her with his rifle. Instantly, a bad taste was left in her mouth and she didn’t answer, simply glaring at him. 

    “The girl is with me, sir.” A stern faced white woman announced with a humble bow of her head. His eyes rested on her a little longer. 

    “I’m teaching her how to fetch water. For the wounded.” She continued in near perfect Japanese, carefully approaching the two of them. He finally turned his gaze onto the woman and stared at her. Dressed in sterile white, already her dress was stained with specks of blood and other bodily fluids. Hair uncovered from a veil, it was bare and pulled up in a high bun, her attempt at trying to maintain order and neatness. Without another word, he slowly backed away, a breath of relief forming in the throat of the nun. 

    “You’re Beatrice, right?”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    “No ma’am. Margie.” She swallowed. 

    “Margie…” Smiling, she cleared her throat. 

    “I’ve seen you here over the past week or so.”

    “Being here gives me a chance to feel free for a little while.”

    “Your guardian is First Lt. Matsuda. Right?” At that, she was unresponsive, watching the woman lean down to assess a patient. 

    “I’ve seen you two together.” 

    “We’re supposed to be together. I’m his sex slave.” Pressing on one of the man’s legs, she frowned at deep fingerprint impressions. 

    “Edema…” Turning her head, she beckoned another nun, younger and fresh-faced. 

    “Sister Catherine, please fetch the Head Nurse.” The rosy cheeks of the pretty woman instantly lost color. 

    “At once, Sister Margaret.” Standing, she tsked under her breath and they continued to walk, filing down the rows of beds, filled with crying weeping and moaning men. 

    “I may be a nun, but I’m far from a fool.” She said, dropping a brief hand against the forehead of one. Fever. 

    “You’re a smart girl, Beatrice. Sometimes, we must use what God blessed us with in dire situations.” 

    “If you had to, would you?” She asked, watching the woman say a prayer under her breath. 

    “Since it has come down to life and death more times than I’d like, yes. I have.” The simple admission from a nun, no less, surprised her and her eyes grew wide. 

    “I’ve wrestled with myself each and every time, Beatrice.”

    “Bea,” Smiling at her, she gave a nod. 

    “Bea.”  

    “Sister Margaret! Please come this way!” Their conversation was cut short and the two of them rushed towards the gathering of nurses. 

 

*** 

 

 

    Sweat dribbled down his back and his flesh, in the midday heat was starting to turn a nice tanned shade. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, he hoisted himself up to the top of the bar, biceps bulging with strain. Letting the tension leave his body, he relaxed out of the rep and pressed his weight onto his foot. He was trying to stand upright more without the use of his crutch or prosthesis. Proud of his determination, he was starting to improve with consistency. 

    “Matsuda,” Turning, he found newly promoted Major Onada standing behind him. At once, he saluted. 

    “Sir.” 

    “At ease.” He moved not, tightly holding his arms behind his back. 

    “Impressive.” Looking up at the high bars, he raised his eyebrows. 

    “Your mental tenacity is staggering.”

    “I am honored by the compliment, sir.” With a nod, he turned stern eyes onto him. 

    “You’ve done well training the cadets. I’m even more impressed by your leadership and your grit.” He bowed his head in respect.

    “What are your plans after the war?” His question brought his head up and he honestly couldn’t answer. He’d never thought about it… after the war. 

    “Haven’t thought about it?” 

    “No, sir. My thoughts are on the present.”

    “Understandable.” The man drew nearer and reached to grab his crutch. 

    “I suggest you begin to think about your activities after our victory, Matsuda.”

    “Sir?” The man looked deeply contemplative for a moment before unclenching his jaw. 

    “I, like you, have been humble in my military ascension. I have more than enough time, experience and qualifications to be Major General and yet I have remained a mere Captain. I haven’t complained as I’ve sat and watched entitled and less qualified men rise through the ranks; their seats bought with the money of their fathers, uncles and brothers. I’ve bided my time wisely.” He remained quiet as the man continued, 

    “What I have that they do not is this: direct access to the Emperor himself.” At that, his lips parted slightly, eyes widening just a tad. 

    “I haven’t made it a show of bragging. There have been enough jealous men in my career that have tried to sabotage and discredit me.” 

    “Sir…I-”

    “I’d like you to meet the Emperor and become a member of the Imperial Cabinet.” He was visibly taken aback and the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. 

    “With all due respect, I’m not worthy of such a position, sir.” 

    “Says whom?” Me. 

    “I…”

    “You remind me of the son I’ve lost. Both of you passionate, hard-working and humble. Followed orders and led others well.” Lifting his hand, he pat his shoulder. 

    “Think about it is all I’m requesting.”

    “I shall, sir.”

    “Carry on, then.”

    “Yes, sir.” As he turned, he said one final thing in parting, 

    “It is not the leg that makes the man. It is the mind, heart and will. You’ve showed me this and you would do well to remember it.” 

 

*** 

 

    When I returned to our quarters, she was shaving her legs. Careful with the razor, she gently glided it down the flesh of her leg, leaving a smooth path in its wake. She had always been cognizant of our shared space and left little non-verbal clues to elude to her… female moments every month.  I did not understand them. Because of her sometimes highly emotional nature in these moments, I tended to stay out of her way. Tonight, the water, normally pulled in from the underground well and left for me should she bathe first had been drained. The tub was empty. It told me that she was experiencing her moment presently.

 

*** 

 

    Placing his cap on the back of the chair, he slipped fingers through hair now a little more than an inch long. It always grew fast. Going over to his bed, he sat and began to remove his boots.  He could feel her eyes on him but continued unlacing. Lifting the boot off of his foot, he removed the other from the prosthesis. The process then went to removing his uniform jacket and outer shirt. He’d save his pants for last just before removing the false limb and getting into the bath. That seemed to work for him…seemed to be how he expected his evening to go. But at her persistent staring, he knew something else was brewing. 

    “You could always speak instead of stare, Bea.” He exclaimed quietly with a tired little sigh. Lifting his eyes, he found hers dead on him, her fingers tightly clasped in her lap. 

    “Well, I like looking at you.” She replied, tease in her voice. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk and he cleared his throat, pulling off his jacket. 

    “I trust you had a productive day.” 

    “I did.” 

    “Good.” She sighed and got up, slowly walking over to him. Lowering fingers, she began to unfasten the buttons to his shirt. 

    “How do you know?”

    “How do I know what?” Her fingers were slow and steady, calm. 

    “How do you know that I’m not intentionally trying to seduce you?” She unbuttoned the last button before he grabbed her by the arms. Forcing her down onto the bed, he hovered over her. Her eyes widened and her breath started elevating. 

    “That’s how I know.” He said with a soft rasp, taking in the rise and fall of her chest. 

    “You may entertain the thought of it but you aren’t prepared for the repercussions.” Getting up off of her, he continued as he was, pulling the shirt away from his skin. She laid there for a while, just observing him before she slowly sat up. 

    “I’ve already suffered the consequences for not being ready and didn’t like them.” Leaning over, she laid her chin atop his shoulder. 

    “Maybe I’ll like the consequences when I’m ready.” He didn’t respond, his lips forming a deeper smirk. 

    “I trust you had a productive day.” She mimicked his voice, biting her lip in a smile as he chuckled. 

    “I’ll start the water for you.” As she went to get up, he grabbed her hand. 

    “Out there, you know that we cannot be…like this.” She let him entwine their fingers. 

    “I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it while I have it.” She replied, slipping away. She began to turn the lever, humming as fresh hot water began to pour in. 

    “I didn’t think you’d wait.” Her comment caught his attention and he began to stand. 

    “I thought that you’d be like the rest of them. I was so certain that you would make good on your promise and bruise, abuse and maim me until it satisfied you.” He was quiet as he approached, allowing her the opportunity to continue. 

    “I could see it in your eyes. You wanted to. But, you didn’t.”

    “I’ve told you why.” He replied, growing closer. 

    “I know.” He finally made it to her side and leaned back against it. Slowly, he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to his feet. Stepping out of them, he reached down and unstrapped his artificial limb. She kept her eyes away as he pressed it against the tub. 

    “If your Captain told you to shoot me right now, would you do it?” 

    “If you had a knife to my throat again, would you kill me?” The silence now between them was deafening.  At last, his high waisted briefs pooled at his ankle. Stooping, he stepped out of them. Hopping up onto the edge, he climbed in. And like that, he disappeared under the water, ending the conversation. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: I had this scene in my head for THE LONGEST TIME LOL Loved penning it hehe. In this infancy stage of their relationship, they are teaching each other so many things. Respect. Space. Kindness. Understanding. So much more *sniff* 

I frankly don't know what to think about Ichi's captain. Does he have a good heart or not? One moment he orders Ichiro to put a gun to Beatrice's head and threatens her with violation. But here, he's relating Ichi to his deceased son, wanting to extend MAJOR opportunity to him. Thus is the toss and turn of the soldier, right? They have hearts. Sometimes, they fight it. Others, they allow it to rule. He's complex. 

We're seeing a change happening in Takeru. I'm proud of him... 

And please, I love me some Margie. MA'AM. YES. 

Okay, one last update for now hehe. Let's gooooo 

DL~

 

じゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

juukyuu 

nineteen 


 

 

 

    The sunflower field turned into dirt roads. The trickle of rain and petals of sakura. Children laughing, running, playing. The drip of water as it dropped back into fresh cold harvest from the spring. Clear beads and rivulets. Startling blue, rich cerulean. Rich tawny skin. White of winter. Memories of fingers pulling obi apart in haste. Hair crushed in between them. Kimono sprawled across tatami as mere wrapping of a greater offering. Sound. Pain. Joy. Laughter. Pleasure. Tears thread liquid transcendence down until it soaked into the rush grass. 

    With everything in him, he wanted to return. The returning was all he asked for. And so, with a gentle hand, smile and lips, closer and closer. Otousan stood, face stern and kind. Okaasan sat quietly beside his standing form, patience and grace living in her eyes. Mitsuko dangled her bare feet over engawa, expression rambunctious. And then, she was radiant and breathtaking, her teeth smiling prettily. 

    “Tadaima,.”

    “Okaerinasai, Ikki.”  

    

 

 

*** 

 

    The sound of crying woke Meredith up and she jumped out of bed and hastily threw on a robe, prying open her door. As she grew closer to Mr. Matsuda’s room, the crying intensified. Stopping in her tracks, she felt her heart break as she watched Asami crumble into pieces. Her mother, two uncles and one aunt were all standing in the doorway, blocking her view. But Asami stayed in the hallway, hands and arms covering her face. 

    “Sami…”

    “He’s gone…..he’s gone Mere…” She felt her eyes well up with tears and before she knew it, she had begun to bawl. Sinking to her knees, she pulled her friend in close and hugged her tight. 

    “I’m sorry Sami… so sorry…” 

*** 

 

    She had called him and he wasted no time going to her. Eyes misty with tears, he blinked them back as he sped up on the freeway. His heart cracked into little tiny pieces, knowing that he was one of the last people to see or talk to him. 

 

*** 

 

    He stood by the door, heart pounding. The larger than life, uncouth and crass old man from weeks ago now seemed like a distant memory. Who looked up at him now was a human shell, a compilation of eyes, bones and skin. He weakly lifted a hand, beckoning him to come in.  He felt like he swallowed his whole stomach but did as he bade, carefully entering into the room. The hospice nurse sat by his bed, holding what looked like paper. 

    “Mr. Matsuda can no longer vocalize but he can express himself on paper. Please,” She instructed, getting up to allow him to sit. Sinking into the chair, he felt sick as he began to mouth words. Some of them he caught, others, he struggled to see. When the paper was given, he grew still. 

    I’m going to see my wife. 

 

    Clearing his throat, he replied. 

    “You are? That’s exciting.”

     

    He mimed more words that the nurse took down. 

 

    She says that she is pregnant again. I have to go to the store to buy her ice cream. 

 

    “Ah, she likes ice cream hm?”

 

    Yes. 

    

    “Congratulations.” 

    

    You won’t forget me, will you?  The question physically hurt him and he winced as the skeletal hand took ahold of his. 

    Take care of Asami. Love her well. The tears he’d tried holding back now began to slip past his closed eyelids. 

 

    “Yes, sir.” He let go of his hand and closed his eyes. 

 

    I’m going to see my wife. 

 

 

***

 

    It was at that moment that he decided that he had to do it. He had to make sure that no one forgot him. His own children had treated him like a burden and a nuisance. Perhaps they had found out too like he and Asami did. But even so… did it warrant dying alone? Getting off the exit ramp, he tightened his grip on the stirring wheel. It was now personal and while his assignment was over, his work and care done, he would give the man honor. He’d do his best to try to give him a human face and a human heart in a world where he had been told he was nothing but a cruel brutal animal. 

 

 

 

*** 

 

    Grief choked the house in the following weeks. Funeral preparations had been made and she’d turned off her phone from all the calls and texts. She just… just wanted to be in the comfort of silence… solitude. Her eyes were wet from crying and she’d laid on her bed, hugging herself. After a while, she lifted and wiped them away. Grabbing the journal that now housed his immortal words, she hastily opened it, quickly finding where she’d last left off.

 

***     

 

 

    It was over. Everything was over. It seemed fate’s judgement came upon us all. 

    

 

***

 

    Reading had given her solace, the words of her grandfather now like a warm hug. In his absence, she needed something tangible to grasp, hold, cherish. 

 

*** 

 

1945

 

August 

 

    Takahashi was dead. That was the exact message I’d received August 2nd from my Captain. He’d died in action as the last man standing in his platoon. Rather than surrender, he’d fought and chosen death valiantly. The news had made me proud. To know that the annoying flabbermouthed bastard had finished what he’d started made me for once respect him. I couldn’t help, though, but feel a deep unsettling in my stomach. The conversations now between my Captain and I were… charged with different energy. 

    Perhaps he had begun to see me as a confidant of some sort, secrets and information he’d never breathe to the others, enlisted or officer he said to me in utmost confidence. He'd chosen, from conviction or guilt I don’t know, to drop the guise of deceit. Giving it to me straight, he shared the real reality of where we stood in this war. 

 

*** 

    

    Smoke curled upwards toward the ceiling and the man buried his head in between his hands. It was a position he’d never before seen him in and it unnerved him. Greatly. He appeared as though he had a lot on his mind, too many things shifting and calling his focus. In the month that followed the Battle of Okinawa, his hair now appeared more salt than pepper and visible signs of stress began to tell in his forehead and under his eyes. 

    “I told you about Takahashi, yes?” He sat straight in the adjacent chair. 

    “Yes, sir.”

    “He was a good soldier. He believed in our great nation and fought to his last breath.”

    “Yes, sir.” He felt himself salivate at the cigarette Captain Onada lifted to his mouth. 

    “Germany has surrendered to the enemy.” The realization of that dug into his belly and he felt hot on his neck. 

    “If Germany has surrendered, what is next for us?” 

    “We are not a people to give up, sir.” Onada grunted and blew out nicotine filled smoke. 

    “Honorable of you, Matsuda. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” The two men sat in anxiety-filled silence for a while and he watched Onada’s fingers tremble and shake. 

    “I asked you about your plans after the war. Have you reflected on them?” 

    “I wish to return to our homeland.” 

    “To your family?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Kurashiki, yes?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Good people. Good town.” He began to tap his nails nervously on his desk. 

    “We have to begin to prepare, Matsuda.”

    “For what, sir?” 

    “Our final stand.” With one last puff of smoke, the conversation ended and he was instructed to depart. 

 

*** 

 

 

    What happened in the following days served to leave me in a crippling state of pain and misery. As if I hadn’t been through enough in this war, as if I hadn’t suffered enough…life threw the biggest pile of shit towards me and I hadn’t been prepared to do anything but let it hit me. 

    

 

 

*** 

 

    July 27th

    Showa 20 

 

 

    My dearest Ikki, 

    My son… my sweet child. I received your letter with much joy. These days, memories of Otousan comfort me and I can see in my mind’s eye you playing as a little boy. You brought such joy to him. I know with a renewed sense of confidence that he would be extremely proud of you. I am proud of you. Baa-chan is proud of you and so is everyone else in the village. I know you did not know him well but after hearing that the both of you were enlisted and serving together, Mitsuhide Takahashi’s parents and I have formed a cordial relationship. It is nice to sit with fellow women and reflect on our sons and grandsons. How you both are giving great honor to our country… defending our nation and the inhabitants within. Sometimes, it brings tears to my eyes. 

    Ikki, at the end of this year you will turn twenty-six. My goodness, my only son is growing too big for me. I can no longer chase you or play on tatami. I trust that when you return home, you will marry and assume responsibility for our family. It is a mother’s only wish to see her child happy, flourishing and fruitful. 

    Your Baa-chan and I will go to Hiroshima soon. The healing hot springs will soothe and loosen her aching bones. I have friends there and if I am not mistaken, I believe they have a daughter that I think will suit you. While on our trip, I will begin to make preparations. I hope you are ever so well. I think about you every night and pray to God to keep you safe always. 

I shall write to you again soon. 

 

Mother 

 

*** 

 

August 6 

Showa 20 

Early Evening

 

 

    It was time for his face to be shaved. She didn’t think she’d ever met a man whose hair grew as fast as his but in her own way she supposed she liked it. Eying the five o’clock shadow, she washed her hands in the nearby basin. He hadn’t requested it shaved this morning and while she liked the scruffy look of the stubble, it was very uncharacteristic of him. He sat in the chair facing the window. Swallowing, she began to grab the shaving cream, razor and towel. He’d been quiet all day, only giving short clipped replies here and there in passing and it bothered her. Something was wrong. 

    Licking her lips, she approached him. 

    “You’ve been too quiet and I don’t like it.” She started, lifting hands to to cream applicator. 

    “I’ve had a shitty day.” Is all he said, leading his head back, waiting. 

    “I see that.”

    “The infirmary. How was it?” 

    “What is there to say? Margie and I helped more patients.”

    “Soldier?”

    “Soldier and prisoner.”

    “Hm.” He was quiet. Just as she went to apply the cream, her hand paused. Though he sat still, his lashed appeared wet. Blinking, she watched in shock as tears began to travel down his face. At once she put down the small brush. 

    “Ichiro?” He took a deep shuddery sigh and sat up in the chair, back straight. She felt her heart break as the sound of sniffling soon arose to her bewilderment. Slowly, she walked around the chair to face him and reached out her hand to touch his shoulder. He grabbed it before it could make contact and he lifted his head, tears now blinding the vision in his red watery eyes. She grew rigid as he pulled her closer, burying his face against her chest. The sniffles of before now were full fledged cries and his entire body shook with them. 

    Hearing his anguish and grief shattered the last of her heart into pieces and she felt herself tear up at his weeping. He’d freed her hand, lifting his arms to hug her, his fingers clawing and grasping at her dress. She lifted her own slow and careful and enclosed his shoulders, her tough light and gentle. The action seemed to cause more tears, half spoken words swallowed up and released once more, exploding in emotional hysteria. 

    “Okaasan….” He sobbed, voice full of deep sorrow. Okaasan. Mother. He tripped over himself, deep ragged breaths, tears in his throat causing him to gasp for air. At a loss for words, she could do nothing but hold him, hug him tight in the hopes that her touch provided whatever it was that he needed. It was jarring hearing him cry…the icy well composed man now a crumbling bawling manifestation of grief and pain. Mother. What…what happened to her? 

    Questions tickled her tongue but she bit them back, hands slowly rubbing circles into his back. Pressing her cheek against the top of his head, she kept still and quiet until the sobbing ever-so-slowly calmed down back to sniffles. 

 

*** 

 

    I felt not an ounce of shame as I wept, her presence a blanket of comfort to my body. In that moment, I’d laid down everything. All of my titles. First Liuetenant. Officer. Soldier. Even Ichiro Matsuda. I’d laid them all down except one. Ikki. My mother’s son. It took me a while to speak and even as she drew a bath and encouraged me into it, I wept still. 

 

*** 

 

    She’d dressed in her bed clothes first. A simple slip that he’d purchased to wear underneath her dresses. Patting dry her braids, she sniffed and turned to see him still naked on his bed, a towel covering his genitals. He hadn’t moved, water still dripping from his hair, face, feet all over the floor. His eyes were staring into space, his chin trembling. 

    “Ichiro,” Gingerly, she brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, making him finally come out of his stupor. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with deep torment. 

    “You’re makin’ a mess on the floor.” He opened his mouth to reply but he closed it, lips and eyebrows trembling. Taking the initiative, she reached over for his towel and placed it over his head. As she dried his hair, she stopped momentarily as his hands came to take hold of her hips. His palms laid against them lightly and his fingers rested calmly against her. 

    “Bea,” His voice was raspy and rough, distant. 

    “Yes, sugar?” 

    “Sing for me. Please.” Wetting her lips, she completed the request, the notes came easy and soulful from her throat. 

    “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy,” Taking the towel, she dabbed at the water trickling down his neck and around to his throat. 

    “Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high,” Now to his chest. 

    “Oh…your daddy's rich and your ma' is good lookin’.” Leaning down, she reached for his undershirt. Helping him into it, she continued her song, her voice soft and sweet. 

    “So hush, little baby…don’t you cry.” Sighing, he bowed his head now, tears dripping now on his thighs. 

    “One of these mornings, you’re gonna rise up singing. Yes, you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky…” He let go of her and took the bed trousers, sniffling, he pulled them on, tying them closed. 

    “But 'til that mornin’, there’s nothin’ can harm you,” He took a small breath and moved to lay back. Sitting on the side of his bed, she slipped fingers through his short damp strands. 

    “So hush, little baby… don’t you cry.” The last few notes of her song sounded like honey. She accepted his reach and pull of her into bed and wrapped arms around him as he snuggled up against her. Her lips pressed soft little kisses against his forehead and temple and his crying ushered him into a restful sleep, sleep accompanied by her pleasant humming. 

 

*** 

 

 

 

 

    I was completely overcome by grief.  Because it was her, I felt secure… I felt safe in letting the wall down. Beatrice was showing me something I’d never experienced before. It was strange… uncomfortable… addicting. This thing called emotional intimacy. Raw and real vulnerability. I’d only known how to be selfish, take, crush and abuse. My own father never much showed any outward emotion as it just wasn’t something a man did. But, there was something so pure and free about allowing yourself to feel… opening yourself to the pain, hurt, sadness… knowing that you wouldn’t be judged, ridiculed or castrated for it. When I awoke the next morning, I was pleased to find that she was still beside me. 

 

*** 

 

    Lifting his toothbrush, he began to brush his teeth. Turning, he gazed upon her slumbering body, relaxed and at peace as she slept in his bed. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. She belongs there. Resuming his gaze on himself in the small rounded mirror, he dipped his head to spit out the paste. Sliding wet fingers through his hair, he quietly began to shave in the pale morning light. Never in a million years did he think that he’d ever feel so deeply for a woman. 

    It still puzzled him as to the nature of it. The thing called love. He wasn’t at all comfortable with the emotions that threaded through his veins. He knew that the situation between them was dangerous. He’d known it long ago and still his heart had been selfish. Loving someone it wasn’t supposed to. Breezing the razor across the last of the stubble, he cupped his palms with cold water. It put them both at risk. Yet, as he pat himself dry and his quiet footfalls brought him closer to her, he sighed. He could no longer stop himself and truth be told he didn’t want to. Existing in the moment thrilled and exhilarated him. Taking her in, he watched her chest rise and fall. The silent warm little breaths that fanned against his forearm. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against the swell of one of her breasts, thinly covered by her slip. His fingers crushed the pillow underneath her. 

    The desire to have her had grown quite literally every day. In the early mornings, when he’d leave her to rest, he’d exercise until he couldn’t stand it any longer. It had become a ritual of sorts. In the shower he’d stand, stroking and teasing his elongated length to the point of orgasm before stopping. Chills danced up and down his spine and his flesh would grow warm with sweat. Taking the aching bastard in his hands, he’d start again, pushing himself to the brink. It sounded insane to deny himself of orgasm. Over and over and over again. 

    Gently, he pressed a kiss against her, leaning up to lay another just underneath her chin. In this world they’d found themselves in, he needed control. He needed to have something he could manipulate to his liking. Since the woman underneath him prevented him access to her body, he had to decrease the urges… the desires building in him. He knew he could take her anyway… if he wanted. He could rip the slip apart at the chest and kiss and suckle those perfect breasts of hers if he wanted. He could pry open her legs and taste the Heaven he’d yearned for for months.

    Lifting his face away from her chest, his lips kissed her forehead before he pulled away completely. He didn’t want to use sex as a weapon… Not with her. He didn’t want to be an evil son of a bitch…Not to her. He wanted to know… he wanted to learn all the ways he could make her feel good. He wanted to fuck her hard and rough and lick the tears from her eyes as she cried. He’d never fucked slow before but for her he’d try. Slow and steady until she felt every goddamn inch of him.  

    Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he sat nearby in a chair and began to fasten the belt to his prosthesis around his waist. He hated the thought of going to the Ianfu barracks…all the dirty, unwashed and festering holes but fuck him, he needed to release this tension. Dressing in the quiet, he turned on his boot and left her, locking the door behind him. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Yeah this chapter crushed me. In a way, Ichi-bo (just made up that name and I like it LOL) was set free from the crippling pain in his physical body and returned to what he most desired... to be with his family. While I rejoice at that fact, it is also sad because of who he has left behind. He lived a long hard life and grapped with the weight of his sins right up until the last breath. Now, he knows no pain, nightmares and guilt. *goes to cry* whew. Yeah. 

I also had Ichi-bo crying over the death of his mother in my head for MONTHS. Y'all hear me LOL. MONTHS. lol. It was heartbreaking to see him completely break into little pieces. Knowing that his emotion wouldn't be wasted, misused or abused, he released it freely. I can't wait to bring them happiness. I can't say the hard parts are over...reality is that he's a combat war veteran who has severe PTSD. Bea is a former prisoner of war who was subjected to intense emotional, mental and physical trauma and abuse. They're not going to just magically fall in love and poof! these things disappear. 

It's going to take YEARS of hard work, dedication and therapy. 

love you guys hehe. 

thank you for reading and I'll see you in a couple weeks. 

DL~

にじゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


niijuu


twenty 


 

 

 

Feet stood outside of the door to those large looming doors. Gathering up the fear in his throat, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside. 

 

*** 

 

    They had kept his funeral procession small and intimate. Only those who had been invited could attend. As dictated in his will, he had been cremated and sat in an ornate urn in front of his picture. A younger him, a picture of him in his uniform. Asami’s mother had bawled like a baby. His two sons sat nearest the wall. One of them had tears in his eyes but didn’t shed them. The other appeared stoic. There was no pastor or religious rites. But what did play was Louis Armstrong and Ms. Ella Fitzgerald. Two different sounds that when put together created the most beautiful harmony. Like Bea and I. 

    To his surprise, Takeru Ito had been asked to give the eulogy. The man appeared nervous as he walked up the rows of seats. He’d previously asked permission from his remaining relatives and given the okay, now stood at the short podium, palms sweaty. 

    “Mr. Matsuda was someone that I can honestly say has changed my life.” His relatives wept and blotted the tears from their eyes. 

    “I had the pleasure and displeasure of being his care specialist. Mr. Matsuda was crass and had the driest sense of humor.” Throat tight, he glanced over at his ashes. 

    “As we know, he’s an esteemed veteran of World War II and had earned many accolades for his service. But, behind that was a man who was as complex as his uniform.” 

 

*** 

 

    “….At the core of who he was, he was a simple man who preferred to be away from people. He clung to a cold image and if you didn’t know him, he’d intimidate you. If you knew him, you knew that his heart was truly warm. He loved his wife. He loved his family…” 

    The words he’d spoken echoed in his head and he took in the state of the office. At one time, he was sure that it was grand and stately. The remnants of that existed in the almost grandiose carvings of the desk and chair. Covered in thick dust, it seemed that everything had been forgotten. Closing the door behind him, he felt dread slice through his belly. Before he could start, he needed to conquer the fear of this space. That was first. Taking a cautious step towards the desk, he picked up the first thing he saw, a newspaper clipping. JAPAN SURRENDERS, END OF WAR! EMPEROR ACCEPTS ALLIED RULE; M’ ARTHUR SUPREME COMMANDER; OUR MANPOWER CURBS VOIDED.

     Swallowing, he placed the aged browning newspaper clip down. He never got rid of it because he never wanted to forget Grandma. Looking around the room, he lowered a shaky hand to the chair. Pulling it out, he took his hand and swiped away the thick layer of dust. Slowly, he sat. 

 

*** 

 

    “I heard he blew himself up to avoid being captured by the Americans. What a pity. I wish they had’ve tortured the sick bastard.”

    “He was a real demon.”

    “Serves him right. I hope he rots in hell.” She sat amongst the nuns as they chatted about the recent discovery of Takahashi’s demise. 

    “Sisters! That’s not of God! Let us pray for his soul and his salvation.” One of the elder nuns said, mouth drew in a tight displeased line. 

    “It wasn’t of God when he raped us one by one upon arriving here.” Margie said quietly as she mended the pants of one of the wounded. 

    “Sister Margaret!” She said not a word, but her seething eyes lifted up to the older woman, forcing her to shut her mouth. She quickly turned and hurried out of the door. The nuns all eyed each other with a smile as they kept working on their tasks. 

    “Bea,”

    “Hm?”

    “Your soldier. How is he?” She cleared her throat. 

    “He’s not my soldier.”

    “I heard he cut off that psycho doctor’s earlobe for you. If he isn’t your soldier then what is he?”

    “Hush, Jan.” Smirking, the women kept hemming. 

    “He’s fine to answer your question.” 

    “Now that he’s fine, how’s he in bed?” 

    “Janet!” 

    “Oh save it. We’re nuns but we’re women too. Hell, we haven’t been proper since we were forced here.” The younger women began to giggle amongst themselves. 

    “He’s a cripple, Jan. Surely, he can’t do it as well as someone with two legs.” 

    “All I’m saying is that it’s the leg between his thighs and the hips that count.” 

    “I confess that I’ve eyed him a couple of times. He’s really good looking for a Jap.” 

    “The good-looking ones always send you to hell.”

    “Hell that looks like heaven?” 

    “Hush, all of you. Y’all are gonna attract unwanted attention.” At that, the ladies glanced over at the soldiers standing guard at the door. Straightening up, they resumed a quieter atmosphere. 

    Some of the patients had died early in the morning and they were going to have to remove them and make room for new bodies. The injured prisoners they’d personally ‘handled’ and she knew that meant gotten rid of. Throat tight, she looked to her right, down at a Japanese soldier. He’d come in with shrapnel all over his body, in his face, arms, and back. It had taken one of his eyes. Even so, glancing down at him she couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness. 

    From the looks of him, he was young and very inexperienced. Thrown into battle and told to wield a weapon. As she mended his pants, she had the feeling that he would not make it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she kept to her work and kept quiet. Soon, the day would be over. 

 

*** 

 

    Removing his boots, his gaze lifted up to see her removing her own shoes. 

    “Long day, hm?” She nodded with a tired groan and flopped back against her bed. 

    “You?”

    “Yes.” Sighing heavily, she sat up once more. 

    “Dinner should arrive in 45 minutes.” He said, starting to unbutton his uniform jacket. 

    “Okay.” She was quiet as she observed him. Did yesterday even happen? He was as calm, cool, and composed as he’d always been. Perhaps she had dreamt the whole thing. 

    “Yesterday. Thank you.” Blinking, she now stared at a bare chest. 

    “What…what happened?” Fresh pain flashed up onto his face but he kept undressing as if to keep himself busy. 

    “A nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima yesterday morning.” 

    “A what bomb?” 

    “A nuclear bomb.” He repeated, pulling the belt loose from around his waist. 

    “I’ve never heard of anything like that…”

    “Neither have I. But it was created and detonated.” Tugging the belt free from the loops on his pants, he swallowed thickly. 

    “My…my mother…she was…” His voice trailed off and at once she understood. Getting up, she hugged him. He had started to take breaths, deep ones as if to prevent the onslaught of tears she was sure was building up in his eyes. 

    “I’m sorry, sugar.” He lifted hands to her waist.     

    “The Soviet Union has also declared war on Japan.” The news made her grow still. 

    “We’re…finished.” He said, his voice small and breaking. She couldn’t reply… didn’t know what to say to comfort him. 

    “I’m ready for it to be over now.” He said, his watery gaze lifting to hers. 

    “I’m tired.” 

    “I know… I know, sweetheart.” Taking his hands away from her, he sniffed up his tears and cleared his throat. 

    “I suppose that we should begin to discuss the terms of your release. That’s coming soon, I’m sure.” Release. Freedom. Words she never thought she’d hear or see again… now dangled in front of her cruelly. 

    “Let’s… talk about it later.” Nodding, he stood, and together, they began to head to the tub, waiting as the water began to fill it. 

 

*** 

 

    Pictures of Hiroshima. The gruesome faces of survivors. Horrible second and third-degree burns. Bloody patches of flesh. Tears. Children crying for parents now deceased. The visual reminder of what happened broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through…the pain he’d suffered losing what had remained of his family. Pictures of haunting shadows of life right before the blast chilled him. 

    “Mr. Matsuda…” Fear still gripped him. He’d have to delve deeper. 

 

*** 

 

    Life as we’d known it had suddenly come to an end. With little to no warning, Mukden was infiltrated and taken by the Americans and Red Army. In the days just before, the Staff Sargeants and other high-level officials had been in a panic, trying to destroy every piece of evidence they could of their deeds. The remaining prisoners within the holding cells were executed. Little did I know that I had been right. Seemingly overnight, our nation once strong and supreme had become docile.

 

*** 

 

    A loud ruckus drew the nurses' attention, and before they could ask any questions, the doors were kicked open. Armed Marines filed in, weapons drawn. One or two Japanese guards tried to resist and were immediately shot. 

    “EVERYBODY OUTSIDE. NOW.” Visibly shaking, the women stepped out into the humid sunlight. Heart pumping against her chest, she watched as men in uniform she recognized as American gather and round up Japanese soldiers, forcing them to put down their weapons. Her palms and the back of her neck started to sweat. 

    “Where are you from?” Eyes starting to water, she looked up at the owner of the voice. 

    “Chicago, sir.”

    “You?” He asked the next woman. 

    “United Kingdom. We’re all from the United Kingdom.” Nodding, he turned to speak to who she presumed was his commanding officer. They eyed her long enough that she had started to grow uncomfortable. Screaming and crying brought her attention away. Some of the Chinese and Korean women who had been taken to Unit 100 had fallen to the feet of the American soldiers and wailed their gratitude. Some even kissed their boots. 

    Throat tight, she felt lightheaded. It was finally here. She was gonna be freed. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes and soon, at the realization that it was not a joke the rest of the women joined her, sobbing in thanks, gratitude… liberation. 

    Ichiro. As glad as she was, she searched for him through the tears and crowds of the military. Mass chaos surrounded them and as more and more Japanese soldiers were rounded up and made to kneel, she started to fear the worst. 

    Hours it seemed had passed and in that time, they’d been fed a proper meal and given plenty of water. Still, no sign of Ichiro. The women had now taken to sitting on the ground and she tried not to give away the frantic desire to find him. Suddenly, she heard laughing. To her horror, members of what she assumed were the Red Army shoved him forward, watching as he lost his balance and fell. They spoke in hard yet humored Russian, grinning at the tiny Japanese insect they had captured. 

    “Ichiro….” She whispered, eyes tearing up as they kicked him. One took his wood crutch and began to beat him. She went to stand but Margie grabbed her hand. Shaking her head no, she gripped her fingers. Hard grunts now hit the air and several of the American soldiers, relaxed their weapons, joking and laughing at the spectacle. 

    “Crippled son of a bitch. Serves him right.” The men stopped beating him and tossed the crutch away from him. He lifted up onto his arms, trying to stand but was brutally kicked in the face. Blood spurt across the ground. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the man took his foot and stepped on his stump, bringing forth a loud gruff cry of agony. 

    “I can’t… I can’t do this…” She whispered, gripping Margie’s hand so tight. In the afternoon sun, she let the tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. At his enraged groan, she lifted her head to see him scramble to grab his wood crutch. Blood dripped down his temple and his eye was starting to swell and blacken but he hadn’t given up the fight yet. 

    “Look at the little one legged Jap trying to fight the Russians. He’s a bold bastard.” The soldiers laughed and with one last kick, ceased all movement as they abused his stump once more. The Russian language spoken and spit into his face was of a taunting nature and two of the other soldiers knelt to lift him up. He outstretched his hand and yet another placed a black piece of cloth in his palm. Grinning, he continued in that taunting tone as he lifted the fabric to cover his eyes. Stepping back, he jerked his head sharply to the right and the soldiers went in that direction. 

    “No… no where they taking him….”

    “Bea,” Margie’s voice was low, quiet, and sad. You’ll never see him again.  Barely keeping up with the gait they dragged him, soon his sound leg scraped against the ground and they hoisted him up into a truck of rapidly growing captured personnel. 

    “As of today ladies, you are no longer prisoners of war under the Imperial Empire of Japan. Congratulations.” 

End Notes:

 

A/N: HI FAM FAM! I MISSED YOUUUUUUUUUUUU ;____; I had a little two-week break from writing and needless to say, I've come back invigorated and ready to create! hehe. This story is the first story I've written in which I actually NEEDED a whole break lol. That's different. As much as I missed you all, I missed Ichiro and Bea and they've been nagging me to pick it back up haha. Okay, let's get into the chapter. 

At long last, Beatrice and the other prisoners of war are set free. I researched the actual day that Mukden was infiltrated and compromised by the Red Army and U.S Marines and I imagine it happened something like this. The fav scene of this episode was Bea chatting it up with the nurses in the infirmary lol. Them teasing Bea is cute lol. She like he ain't my soldier and they lookin at her like mmhm sure. suuuuurrrrre. 

The hardest scene was writing the Red Army/Soviet Army beating Ichiro up. I felt that in my whole soul. *sobs* my poor baby. 

OKAY. I have a treat for y'all hehe. I was gone two weeks so I'm going to upload a bonus chapter update this week hehe. FIVE chapters this week I hope y'all enjoy them hehe. Let's gooooo 

DL~

 

Visual of Margie/Sister Margaret because she's a baddie hehe 

 

にじゅういち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

niijuu-ichi 

twenty-one 


 

 

 

He found her in the backyard, sitting alongside the trail that led up to Mount Mansfield. Clearing his throat, he gathered her attention. She’d been crying and her pretty brown cheeks were flushed red. 

    “Takeru…” 

    “I thought you’d be out here.” Sniffling, she schooched over, allowing him to sit. 

    “I can’t believe he’s really gone.” She lifted hands up to wipe away fresh tears. 

    “I had every warning. I knew what would happen. But still…”

    “It doesn’t lessen the pain, Sami.” Nodding, more tears wet her cheeks. 

    “I spent time in Mr. Matsuda’s office yesterday.” 

    “You did?” 

    “Mmhm.” 

    “I’m surprised you even went in there.” 

    “I needed to conquer my fear of the space.” His words made her look at him. 

    “I spent hours in there. Looking through all the pictures and newspaper clippings.” She was quiet now as she listened, 

    “I was transported into hell for a long time. And I didn’t sleep all that well. I’ll admit that. But…in order for me to do this right…I have to see with his eyes.” 

    “What is it you’re trying to see Take?” At that, he grew quiet. 

    “I told Mere to take the week and recoup. She’s pretty shaken up by Grandpa’s passing.” Sniffing, she stood. 

    “If you’re hungry, I can make us some gyoza.” She turned to walk away but he reached out to grab her hand. Growing still, she slowly closed her eyes, a tear of two slipping down her cheeks. Neither one of them said anything and in the silence, their fingers entwined. 

 

***

 

 

 USSR 

1947 

 

 

    Black smoke obstructed the light and the air. Eyes watery, he continued to crawl, strategic stones placed  in the dirt to guide him to the opening. Sweat threatened to burn him alive but he kept going, feeling the air disappearing less and less. With haste, he pulled himself along the narrow dirt path and reached outwards, glad to feel the pulley in front of him. Giving it a firm tug, at once it began to be lifted. Hanging on, he dangled dangerously in mid air and the threat of falling to his death increased with every tug upward.

His thick corded biceps trembled from fatigue but he forced himself to push out what air he could and grip tighter, breathing in the heavy black soot. Soon, the chasm grew wider and he began to see the beginning of day’s light. Instantly, the air began to rush down into the space, forcing the black clouds away from his face and body. Gasping it in greedily, he drew in deep breaths as the light grew closer. He could hear the sounds of the men as they hoisted him up. 

    At long last, he made it up enough that he could see black soot stained clothes and bare flesh. Hands reached in and pulled him up and out. Wheezing, he turned to cough and spit, black saliva shooting onto the ground. 

    “Volkov.” Turning callous eyes upward, he found the commandant of the camp staring down at him. 

    “It’s your lucky day. Make yourself presentable and follow me.” He barked in harsh Russian. Leaving them, he watched the big beefy man head into his tent. 

    “What do you think he wants?” 

    “I don’t know.” He replied, his Russian rough. Coming to get on all fours, he slowly balanced the makeshift prosthesis and stood. He stood tall and proud as the vicious winter air stabbed him through. Taking a step, he began to head towards the tent of Boris Morozov, nicknamed ‘the oni’ by those who like him were Japanese. Not bothering to lift the flap open, he came inside and stood by the entrance, posture straight and rigid. 

    “I told you to make yourself presentable. Apparently, your ears aren’t too good for a dog.” He remained quiet, eyes focused behind him. 

    “I must say, Volkov, that I am deeply impressed with you. I didn’t think a cripple could work so hard.” Grinning, the icy blue eyes of his traveled down him. 

    “How long have you been in our service?” 

    “One year and four months, sir.”

    “Ah. Has it been that long?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Impressive. Even your memory supersedes that of your animal friends.” His jaw tightened. 

    “You’ve survived our brutal winter. Though you tremble before me, you have pride. I like this.” It was so cold that he was starting to lose feeling in his toes and fingers. 

    “How many of your friends have you buried?”

    “Too many to name, sir.”

    “And you’ve miraculously survived. Through malnourishment, dysentery and hard physical labor. Ha, if all Japanese were like you we’d have invaded you several times over.” Lifting a pipe to his lips, the man’s smirk fell off his face. 

    “Today is your lucky day Volkov. You’re being repatriated to your savage homeland.” The news at first didn’t register and he kept staring at the wall behind him. He’d lived through many deceptions of the Russian military. Leading those eager to go home into fields and shooting them. 

    “Are you not happy?” 

    “Overjoyed, sir.” 

    “Good then. Here,” Tossing a pack at him, the man sat back in his chair and the smoke from his pipe drifted up into the air. 

    “Get dressed and meet the others by the west gate.”

    “Sir.” Exiting the same way he came, he gripped the pack tightly, glancing down at it. He tightened his jaw and began to rip it open. A warm parka, hat, shirt and pants looked back up at him. Boots beckoned his feet, the inside of them thickly lined with rabbit fur. Disbelief clogged his throat and at once, he felt his heart began to thump against his chest. 

    “Going to the firing line, Volkov?” Glancing up at several of the captured inmates who eyed him jealously, he didn’t reply with words. He began to cough up the bitter and sour taste of the soot that lied at the back of his throat. Quite loud and obnoxious, he cleared his throat of enough of it and spit, a thick slimy glob of black phlegm in the direction of the motherfucker, lifting hard eyes to his disgusted and enraged ones. Fuck you. Taking the clear message, the thin white man came towards him. 

    “I hope they pump you full of lead, you tiny Japanese asshole.” He smirked, turning to him. Maintaining eye contact with the fucker, he dropped his pants, causing the workers around them to suddenly pause.

    “Get one last good look at it.” His face grew red and he backed up. 

    “The fuck’s your problem?” 

    “Just gracing you with all six inches of my tiny Japanese cock before I leave this shit hole.” At his laugh, he was shoved and fell back against the earth. 

    “I hope they cut it off and shove it up your ass.” Grinning, he lifted up and began to dress, the thick wool and fur instantly providing warmth to his nearly frostbitten body. He hurried and put on the matching hat. Without another word to anyone and face now stony and emotionless, he tied the now empty knapsack around his torso and headed towards the west gate. 

    The comrades he’d worked with just a second ago gawked at him, some in shock, others envy, some gladness. He lifted his hand in salute as he passed them. 

    “DON’T FORGET US. SURVIVE AND LET THEM KNOW WHAT THEY’VE DONE TO US.” With a firm nod, he turned his eyes straight ahead, a mixture of uneasiness and jubilation in his stomach. It left him queasy and he felt like at any moment, he would vomit. What if it’s a trap? What if they’re lying? He kept his eyes straight, face empty. Should the bastards kill him then he’d go with honor and dignity. 

    He came to meet a handful of men, all dressed the same as him. They too looked uneasy, some afraid. At his approach, they turned. 

    “First Lt. Matsuda…” Giving them a nod, he swallowed tightly. 

    “Do you think it’s a trap, sir?” 

    “I don’t know.” He answered, gripping the strap of the sack at his shoulder. 

    “We surrendered peaceably… and look what happened. What if they kill us?” 

    “That makes us cowards. How are we to dare return home as traitors?” They all looked at a bitter faced youth, signs of dehydration and malnourishment in his face. His eyes blazed with fire but his body appeared incredibly weak. 

    “I’m tired Totomi. If it wasn’t the Americans, it would have been them. Do you really think we would have stood a chance against both of them?” The boy spat on the ground.      

    “Better to die than to accept defeat.” 

    “Totomi,” He looked at him. 

    “You have your beliefs and I at one point shared them. But, now… after everything is said and done…is it truly better to die or better to live?” 

    “To live is to surrender.” 

    “To live is to survive. Survival is empowerment.” Unreceptive to his words, he turned away. 

    “They want us to die like filthy animals. Should we survive, do we then not have the real victory?” 

    “Listen up you Japanese dogs. We’ll depart in a half hour. Move from this spot and you will not make it on the boat alive.” They all turned to see a commander standing at the front of them. 

    “Is that clear?”

    “Yes, sir!” And so the torturous wait commenced. He wouldn’t believe it… wouldn’t believe that they were going home…not until he was in the middle of the ocean. 

 

 

*** 

 

    One year and four months. That’s how long I’d been in hell. It seemed like it would be my life for the rest of my life. When the ship disembarked, I felt a numbing cold take over my body. All the faces of the men I’d worked beside, ate beside, watched die beside me… those large black eyes of nothing, hope, despair and hatred. Skeletal bodies stood in the daylight and began to fade away little by little. It was then that I allowed tears to be released. In them said so much. 

    Grief. Anger. Remorse. We were no better than the Russians. We were more alike than some wanted to admit. For their cause… for our cause… we became the monsters we feared so they did not get us. We became the thing we hate… desensitized ourselves in order to achieve the mission. 

    Killing. Sliced heads, hearts, frail frozen bodies lay wasted in thick snow. Raping. Taking hold of young feminine flesh and gorging on it over and over and over until it became lifeless and dead. On to the next. Watching the life fade slowly from the eyes, death in hands, bullets and bayonets. Blood, thick and never-ending covered the earth and our hands. 

    We finally got what we deserved. Hell. I wiped away my tears. Now that I’d lived there, I wanted freedom. I never wanted to step foot back into it again. I wanted heaven… I wanted breath, life, a chance to make right all the wrongs I’d committed. I wanted… I wanted Beatrice. 

 

*** 

 

    思ひつつ 寝ればや人の 見えづらむ  夢と知りせば 覚め–らま—’.

 

***

 

Thinking about you,

 

Over and over behind my eyes I found myself back at the bar, smoke and cigars plenty and the sound of her voice brought me one step closer. Vodka in hand, I’d watch her serenade me, her body enticing and beckoning mine.

I slept and saw you

    As the vodka soaked the table, spilling over so she would wash over me, lips, teeth, tongue. A never ending cycle of breath, heat, ripped dresses and warm soft breasts. 

In the dream.

    Breasts that I could finally capture, mold and caress in my palms… those pretty umber nipples I could nibble and pinch, tease and lick with my tongue. Lust. Insanity. We found each other in booze, song and jazz. Her fingers gripping the edge of the bar so tightly, soiled with the dew between her legs, dirtied with remnants of my cum and wet wasted alcohol. Animals. Wild hard fucking. Insatiable. Love. I couldn’t stop. I wanted her to take every piece and part of me, devour it and become it. 

If I had known it’d have been dream,

    Lost. I wanted to be lost. Found. I wanted to find myself…embrace myself… know myself inside of her. 

I wouldn’t have wake up.

 

     There the war couldn’t get us… there my hands weren’t dripping with the blood of babies fresh from the womb, my knuckles weren’t wet from tears and saliva from beating yet another young female face. My arms weren’t stiff and shaky, the whole of my bayonet cutting through muscle, sinew and heart. There, the word soldier didn’t exist. There, I could be a human and she could too. We could be one body, one being, one entity. We could be Bea and Ichiro. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: In my research, I discovered that the Russians were B-R-U-T-A-L in their imprisonment of Japanese prisoners of war. Historically, Russia and Japan had been at war with one another previously in the First Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905. That animosity along with the fact that the Russians were BAMFs that did not give any mercy are thought to be the cause of the treatment the Japanese POWs endured. 

How fitting. The same way they behaved was the same way they were treated. You reap what you sow. Ichiro has now had a taste of his own medicine. The picture used as the chapter picture is a picture of real former prisoners of war returning home to Japan from Russia.

 This whole episode was powerful to me. Wow. Yeah. OH. Volkov. The Russian name given to Ichiro. It means wolf. Let's continue to the next chapter shall we hehe?

DL

にじゅうに by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


niijuu-ni 


twenty-two 

1947 

Chicago 

 

    Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from her brow, she exhaled a sigh. It was nearing midday and the sun was at its highest. Already, toasty brown skin had perspired and flushed red. 

    “Bea, come on in the house.” Turning towards the voice, she stood. 

    “Yes, ma’am.” Wiping her hands on the smock, she removed her straw hat before entering the house. A woman nearly identical to her smiled as she came into the small foyer. 

    “What you doing out there baby?”

    “Pickin’ your weeds Momma.”

    “Sweet girl, you ain’t gotta do that. Here, come on and help me tenderize this meat.” 

    “Yes, ma’am.” The woman smoothed back her sweaty hair and pressed a kiss to her temple before leaving her to her new task. 

    It had been a whole year… a year and four months since she’d returned home. It had been difficult re-assimilating… and even after a year, she hadn’t completely got it. She found herself still bowing her head sometimes, replying in Japanese or Mandarin, and had to learn to stop walking around the house completely naked. It was all she’d known for so long and now… now she had to force herself to forge her own definition of what ‘normal’ meant. 

    Normal would have been returning home with Joe. Normal would have been being back in the swing clubs and bars, singing and performing. Normal wasn’t her normal anymore. 

    Taking the wooden tenderizer, she began to beat the meat, eyes in space. Her dreams were haunted, memories of what once was… what still lived in her mind and behind her eyes. 

    She hadn’t been able to grip reality as it was… a permanent stain on her psyche. It’ll take time baby. Give it time. The low comforting voice of her mother would always bring her back when she’d ventured too far out. She’d told her what she could manage of her experiences… much of it too hard to even utter. She couldn’t bare telling her she’d been raped. It would destroy her. She’d been destroyed enough… having to learn that her son had been murdered. It took Momma a while and she still think she cried about it. But, she was trying to be strong and sound for her.  

    “That’s enough Bea, it’s already dead.” 

    “What you say?” 

    “Look what you doing.”  Glancing down, she felt her cheeks grow warm. She’d flattened the poor slab until it was nearly in pieces. 

    “Sorry, Momma.”

    “That’s okay, we have flat steak instead of roast. It’s okay.” She smiled as her lips kissed her cheek and she removed the meat from her. 

    “I’ma go wash my hands.”

    “Okay, sugah.” Clearing her throat, she took her time as she went up the stairs. It had been a hell of a time but finally, she felt like she was returning to herself. She had lost herself for so long… Stepping into the bathroom, she turned on the water and washed the blood from her hands.  She had worked hard to reclaim herself… hold on to even a bit for herself. Watching the blood trickle down the drain, she swallowed thickly. Lately, her thoughts had been consumed with him. At night, her mind raced and he was well and alive in the recesses of her subconscious. Ichiro. Her eyes flickered closed. The sounds of his agony as those Russian soldiers beat him… it stayed with her. So strong and stoic, she’d never heard much other than a few small laughs or chuckles. It frightened her to think that even he, as unbreakable as he seemed to be could shatter like glass. Lathering her hands with the soap, she allowed another memory to surface. 

    The feeling of his fingers soaping her hair. He wore no cologne and yet to her, he always carried the scent of pine and bergamot… refreshing woodsy spice, and slight citrus. She wanted to press her face into the crook of his neck and just… breathe him in. His natural odor aroused her so much that it had brought that wet feeling between her thighs. Soft and calm, his short nails had scratched her scalp with the utmost care… his thick sinewy biceps closed around her in safety. Hard and unflinchingly male, his body had felt so good against her much smaller softer one. 

    Though neither one of them had acknowledged it, the stiff thing poking against the small of her back had startled her. Yet he hadn’t moved to rub, brush or assault her with it. He kept a respectful distance from her and carried on as if it had never happened. But strange yearnings and desires caused her womanhood to flutter and throb.

    Dropping her eyes, she took a shaky breath, lifting the soap back to its respective dish. Shameful. Washing the soap from her hands, she dried them and smoothed back her hair

    “Bea?”

    “Comin’ Momma.” 

 

*** 

 

 

    His eyes read the candid words and felt his cheeks blush. Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter in the chair. In his entries, Mr. Matsuda had said something so profound. There the war couldn’t get us…There, the word soldier didn’t exist. I could be a human. We could be one body. We could be Bea and Ichiro. 

    It pierced his heart reading it and for a while, he sat in the glow of his revelation. Ichiro Matsuda was just as much a victim as the prisoners he held in captivity. It was hard to even think, imagine or entertain. But.. there was something so telling about his word choice… his repetitive sayings. The war couldn’t get him. Soldier didn’t exist. Until the end, he had to maintain being a soldier. Ichiro. Ikki. 

    It was something one didn’t think about in relation to the Japanese side of the war… the soldiers being victims… it was easy to generalize them all… claim that they were blood-thirsty samurai-obsessed savages who desired world domination. In reality… many of these young men… boys really… they experienced the same trauma as they gave it out. It was powerful. It added a layer to the man he’d feared for so long. As he read, the fear was starting to be brought down and in its place began to live understanding. 

    “Perhaps this was what Mrs. Matsuda began to realize. You were just as much a victim as she was. Just… in a different way.” Running fingers through his hair, he sighed into his palms. The old man wasn’t as much of a bastard as he’d thought. Slowly getting up, he grabbed his wallet and keys. He think he had enough now… just enough to start. 

 

 

*** 

 

    The barge pulled in and he lifted his head from the spot where he lay. Rain was in the air, the moist droplets covering his face in a thin mist. The air smelled different. It smelled like… 

    “Welcome home, gentlemen.” At that, many more heads began to pop up and soon they all began to stand. Turning to look at the blessed soil, and waters he felt his heart grow ache. Home. He was home. A flash of light made him tense up and he turned toward it. A lone man who appeared to be a reporter stood with a large camera. Another flash blinded them and like that he was finished. Clearing the way, he bowed as they all began to step closer and closer to their homeland. Throat so tight it hurt, he stepped onto the pier, his eyes growing watery. 

    “Matsuda.” Looking at the voice, his eyes grew wide. 

    “M-Major Onada…s-sir,” The man no longer wore his uniform and his eyes appeared tired and weary. 

    “Welcome home Matsuda.” Emotion filled him and he simply hung his head.

    “Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes.” 

    “Yes, sir.” Silent tears slipped down his cheeks and he lifted dirty soot-covered hands to wipe them away. Home. Home…. He was home.

 

    *** 

 

 

    It felt good to be back on Japanese soil. But, I had long since gotten used to thick jungles and beaches of white and black sand. I’d gotten used to the streets of Shanghai and the rolling hills of Manchuria. Home had been so many places. And yet, here I was… trying not to weep in front of my superior. 

    I felt out of place. I followed behind him aimlessly, as though I was a lost child following one’s father… hoping his guidance would lead me to clarity. We went to an awaiting car. The early morning routine of the fishermen comforted me, a sight I never thought I’d see again. The ride was silent between us and I watched every little thing pass by, the familiar signs that I was still alive… still a part of this nation.

    Caught up in the excitement, I hadn’t been aware that I’d fallen asleep. The journey had exhausted all of my energy and my body begged for rest. Major Onada shook me awake too soon and I found myself looking at the outskirts of Kurashiki. 

 

*** 

 

    “I will give you my direct number. When you are settled and have reunited with your family, I will invite you to my home.” Tired confused eyes turned to him. 

    “Sir…”

    “I will make good on my promise. Wait by the phone.” Taking a breath, he bowed his head  as he pressed a piece of paper into his hand. Getting out of the car, he watched it turn around and drive away from him. Turning, he faced the town he’d called home…the land that had raised him. Already, eyes of curious and confused people stared at him as he walked past them. 

    “Are you out of town?” One such individual asked, bag and rod told him that the man was planning to go fishing. 

    “Ah…no. I…I was in the Army.” The man’s eyes grew wide. 

    “Bless the gods for your safe return. You honor us with your service.” Accepting his praise, he knelt his head before the old man allowing him to pat his head. 

    “We have done well.” Now, he spoke to himself as he traveled down the road. Swallowing thickly, he continued on his own way, his feet leading him past the familiar structures, homes and stores that he’d ran past as a child. The sun was just starting to come up across the horizon and the roads were empty. 

    Without warning, a tear slid down his cheek and he kept moving, memories of receiving a sweet from Ms. Minoki’s sweet shop fresh in his mind. Step. Step…One. Two. Three tears followed and before he knew it he was crying. A deep dark sadness swept over him and in the stillness of morning, he wept. When you are settled and have reunited with your family, I will invite you to my home. What family? WHAT FAMILY? Now, wretched wails of anguish and crippling grief choked his breath and he released the sound openly…revealing the rips and tears of his heart. 

    Feet seemed never to forget and they led him to the gate of the place he once called home. Fresh pain sliced through him as he stood on the stony pathway leading to the entrance. The trees had started to change, touched with the colors of autumn. Startling reds, golds and apricot kissed the leaves, decorated God’s sacred beauty upon the earth. The sight overwhelmed him and he slowly knelt. 

    Letting his hands drift down, he reached up underneath his pant leg. Unfastening the limb, he let it drop onto the ground. He removed the fur hat and threw it down. Hair past his shoulders, the strands were messy and tangled. They picked up on the cool morning wind. Tears now blinding his vision, he lowered himself to the ground in a sitting position, the holy stones graced with divine light. 

    “Otousan…” Sucking in a breath, he spoke again. 

    “Okaasan….B-Baa-chan…”  Leaning forward in a deep saikeirei, his tears dripped and splashed onto the backs of his hands. 

    “Tadaima…” 

 

*** 

 

    Her feet ached and she couldn’t wait to soak them. Holding her books closer, she came up the small pathway to the house’s stairs. Removing her nurse’s cap, she gave a soft knock before entering. The smell of pineapple filled the foyer. 

    “Momma?”

    “In the kitchen.” Following the sweet smell, she came into the kitchen to see her mother whipping what looked like cake filling in a bowl. 

    “You done with school, Bea baby?” 

    “Yes ma’am.” 

    “You done came back home and wanna be a nurse huh?” She smiled as her momma stooped to pull out fresh sweet sheet cakes. 

    “I’m almost done with the classes. I should be getting a certificate soon.”

    “Beatrice Grace Jones, graduate of Provident Hospital and Training School for Nurses.” Laughing as her momma shook her tail feather a little bit, she pulled her close in a hug. 

    “Ya lil’ girl smart and pretty huh?” 

    “A whole bunch smart and extra on the pretty, Bea baby.” Her mother said, smoothing back her hair. Giving her a kiss, she wiggled her eyebrows as she began to spread that scrumptious filling on the cake. 

    “Let me go freshen up. I’ll help you.”

    “I’m done. Don’t worry bout a thang.” 

    “Mmkay then, I go pick some fresh greens then.” 

    “Gotta deal.” On her way upstairs, she paused. There on the flat top of the staircase rested a letter. 

    “Ma, what’s this letter?” 

    “Don’t know. It got yo name on it so I ain’t bother with it.” Lifting it to her face, she blinked. Ms. Beatrice Jones. It didn’t have a return name or anything. Just an address that looked real funny and hard to pronounce. Huh. 

    Opening it, she grew still. Her heart began to beat faster as she read…

 

    小百合さく 小草がなかに 君まてば  野末にほいて 虹あらはれぬ.

    

I wait for you. In the grassland. Where small lilies bloom. On the corners of the field, the rainbow shows up.

 

There at the bottom a simple initial. 

 

 

    Fingers shaky now, she slowly ascended the stairs, her thoughts jumbled. M. Matsuda. That… this…dear God. An ache that she thought she’d laid to rest stabbed her, the knife twisted painfully, taking her breath. Lifting a hand to her chest, she couldn’t stop the tears that bubbled up from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Oh God… Ichiro…it… it had to be him. There was no one else she knew…. he was alive. he had survived the war. Pressing the letter against her heart, she blew out a breath and sniffed, wiping her tears. He was alive. 

 

End Notes:

 

A/N: This episode was... man. Ichiro returning home... the weight of his family being destroyed and he being alone... can you imagine the grief you would feel if you fought only to come to a home that was empty and devoid of life? To come home knowing that every member of your family was gone? What legit made me tear up was when he bowed at the gate/entrance and began to cry. That did me in. 

I imagine that that was the narrative of some soldiers should they have been fortunate to survive and live through the war. 

You bet your darn skippy I took author liberties here with Beatrice receiving Ichiro's letter LOL. Research showed that the Russians did not allow the POWs to write many letters (if any) so, there's that. I think if you were a higher ranking officer and up, they allowed a couple letters a month. And that was definitely being generous. 

Ichi-bo's letter is a real love poem from 825 AD LOL. I thought it was romantic and fit hehe. ANDDDD SHOUT OUT TO Provident Hospital and Training School for Nurses FOR BEING A REAL SCHOOL/HOSPITAL FOR BLACK NURSES/BLACK PEOPLE WAYYY BACK DURING RECONSTRUCTION. YUH. 

kay, more update? SUREEEE <3 :D 

DL~

 

Here's Bea's Momma 

Ruth Jones 

 

にじゅうさん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


niijuu-san 


twenty-three 

 

 

    Nervous. Sweaty palms. Heart racing. Slight light headedness. 

    “Matsuda Ichiro chūi. Approach.” Taking a step forward, he kept his expression emotionless, body still and rigid. Adorned in a new uniform, he took step by step, his boots freshly polished. Dark navy blue overcoat. Sparkling gold brass buttons traveled in a single file line down the sharp single-breasted collar. Short golden braids decorated his shoulders and on the sleeves lived an ornate golden trim and jarring red. A red and white belt circled his hips, hanging with full lush red tassels. A smaller belt up above his waist, lined with a navy and red trim. In his hands, he held the ornate handle of an officer’s katana, the blade straight against his chest. 

    “Stop.” At once, he ceased movement. 

    “Greet His Majesty.” With a sure voice, he replied. 

    “Tenno Heika Banzai!” Doors opened and the Emperor stepped in. The sight of him made his heart skip a beat and he dug his nails into his palms, eyes forward.  His military advisors followed in behind him, heads bowed. At once, he let his body fall into saikeirei. The room was quiet as the doors behind him were shut. 

    “You may lift your head.” His voice spoke, a firm yet calm authority in it. 

    “I am not worthy, Your Majesty.” 

    “So he is like his father.” That made beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck. At once, he lifted his head, keeping his eyes at his chest. 

    “My… my father, your Majesty?”  

    “Matsuda Yukio. Advisor to Emperor Taisho. Your father.” 

    “Yes, Your Majesty.”

    “He was far too humble. Like yourself.” Tongue-tied, he listened in earnest as he spoke again. 

    “Your Major speaks high praises of you. Having now seen you, I understand why. You have the eyes of a warrior.” 

    “I am deeply honored to receive your compliments…” 

    “Your aura is staggering. It roars with the souls of our great samurai. A war cry, it seeks above all else to fight. To live.” He bowed his head even lower. 

    “You’ve survived Bairoko. Io To. Captivity in the hands of the Russians.” The man had slowly circled him but now he came to a stop. 

    “Do you feel like a failure?” His question stabbed his heart. Trying to form words, he bit into his lip, the pain serving to focus him. 

    “It is with much embarrassment that I return to you empty-handed. I bring you no offering deserving of you… not even my life.” The short laugh from the man brought his eyes upward. 

    “Many of your brothers laid down their lives to me. While their lives were each valuable and the sacrifice was great, your offering is worth more to me existing in the shell you call a body.” A solid heavy hand laid upon his back. 

    “Lift your gaze.” Throat tight with emotion, he slowly lifted, eyes on his chest. 

    “You have sacrificed a limb in Our name and you are the model example of what Japan esteems to be. You carry her spirit and soul in your bosom. We are pleased by this.”              

   “It is with great humility that I accept your compliment, Your Majesty.” 

    “Rectitude. Courage. Benevolence. Politeness. Honesty and Sincerity. Honor. Loyalty. Character and Self-Control. The eight codes of bushido. I find every one of them in you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

    “Were it not in the agreement set forth between our nation and the United States, we would award you position of our Imperial Cabinet. However, that is not possible. ” Quiet, he listened to him speak once more. 

    “We find that you will like what will be granted to you instead. The Grand Cordon of the Order of the Paulownia Flowers, a 70 million yen yearly Imperial stipend, and an esteemed invitation to American President Truman’s birthday party.” He felt his eyes water and he bowed his head one last time. 

    “I with all humility accept the gifts of your grace and kindness, Your Majesty.” Lips firm, he gave a nod. 

    “Prepare for flight in two weeks’ time.”

    “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

    “Dismissed.” Standing at attention, he saluted him before turning on his heel. Taking step by step, his footfalls echoed on the marble floor as he came to the door, they soon closing behind him. 

 

*** 

 

    It hadn’t taken him long but already he had started. With fervor, he typed, letting the words flow freely. Don’t forget me. Pausing, he fished through his notes. As long as he drew breath, he’d never forget him. He’d make sure that by the end, no one else would too. While he had time before his next assignment, he’d take the time to work on it some more. Slowly but surely, he’d get this done. And with its completion, he hoped that he was transformed. 

 

*** 

 

May 8th, 1947 

 

Warne Ballroom 

 

 

    Violins strummed sweetly and servers in crisp white tailcoats enticed guests with hors d’oeuvres seated on sterling silver platters. Esteemed rich white politicians dressed in white togas laughed, lifting flutes of champagne to their mouths. Women in Roman-Greco dresses made of silk rushed against the floors. She felt her heart race and wet her lips, trying to prevent herself from picking at the skin on her hand. It had been such a long time… such a long time since she’d performed in front of people. 

    Truth be told, she was still in complete shock. She’d received a letter from The White House of The United States upon arriving home one day. This letter her momma couldn’t prevent herself from opening and she volunteered it up, asking her to read the tiny typewritten words. 

 

*** 

 

   Miss Beatrice Jones, 

    It is our honor to extend to you the opportunity to attend The 33rd President of the United States, Harry S. Truman’s 63rd birth-day party. It has come to our attention of your various talents, having traveling abroad. 

    Per many recommendations, we humbly invite you to the Cosmos Club’s Warne Ballroom on the evening of May 8th Nineteen Hundred and Forty Seven at 8 P.M. Please be aware that there is a strict dress-code. The theme of the party is classical Greco-Roman mythology. 

 

    Sincerely, 

    The White House 

 

***

 

    Her mother had nearly fainted and she had to help her go sit in the living room. She was in the same state of disbelief. Her? Some little Negro girl from Huntsville, Alabama? They had to be making a mistake. So she thought. She told her mother she wasn’t going and she almost about slapped her back ten years. 

    “You goin’ Beatrice Grace. What you mean you not goin? You can’t refuse the big white man in the big white house.” 

    “Momma they made a mistake…I ain’t sang in front of people in so long…”

    “Start practicin’ cause you goin’.” With a renewed sense of energy, the woman hopped up and rushed to the phone. 

    “I gotta tell yo Aunt Della. Girl, she gon have her a fit. And we gotta find you a dress.” 

 

***

 

    And here she was, palms sweaty and her neck feeling hot. Prominent eyes had already slipped down her body, ignoring her face. Taking a breath, she cleared her throat and straightened up. She knew what they saw. They saw easy prey. Lust lived in their eyes, open in plain sight. Smiling at the waiter, she took a deeper breath and began to make her way towards the small prepared stage. Tonight, she’d reclaim herself. Tonight, she’d give them a show unlike anything they’d ever seen. 

 

*** 

    “You say you’re from where?” 

    “Kurashiki, sir.” 

    “Pah, where the hell’s that? Sounds like one of those Jap towns.” He took down the shot of whiskey nice and easy. 

    “It is, sir.” Growing red in the face, the man baulked. 

    “So, that would make you a Jap then…”

    “I am here to represent the Emperor, so yes, that makes me Japanese. No hyphen.” His green eyes grew wide and he smirked as he lifted a fancy cigar to his mouth, lighting a match. 

    “Something wrong, Major?” 

    “Ah, no…ah… you’re here representing Hirohito huh?” The disrespect towards him caused his eyebrow to twitch and he blew out thick fragrant smoke. 

    “The Emperor, yes.” 

    “So we see you have a fancy medal on your uniform. What’s it mean?” His wife dived in, attempting damage control. 

    “It’s the Order of the Paulownia Flowers. It’s the second to the highest honors given. I’m humbled to have received it.”

    “And how did you receive it, may I ask?” Some puffed up son of a bitch asked, mouth all snarled up. 

    “David!” His wife. 

    “I wanna hear him say it. He earned it by shooting and killing our troops.” Steely blue-grey eyes narrowed at him. Taking the cigar in between his index and middle finger, he pulled it away, releasing some more smoke. 

    “With all due respect, the soldiers here received honors and medals for the exact same thing; shooting and killing the soldiers in my country. We are no longer enemies. Your country is attempting peace and so is mine. Let us pay respect to those who died on both sides and call it a truce. Hm?” Nearly everyone at the table had grown as white as the sheet collecting the droplets from the water in his glass. 

    “Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome our featured performer of the evening. She’s entertained the likes of Clark Gable, Bill Crosby and Elizabeth Taylor and tonight she’s here to give us a treat! Please welcome Beatrice Jones!” Turning his head sharply, he grew still. Deja vu smacked him in the stomach as he watched her croon in a soft seductive voice. 

    “The poets say that all who love are blind. But I'm in love and I know what time it is.” A mellow piano played in the back, no other instrument but it and her voice. The ethereal singing caused a hush to drift across the room and soon, everyone turned to face her.

    “The good book says go seek and ye shall find.  Well, I have sought and my what a climb it is.”  Cigar now forgotten, he felt his throat close up and sucked in a breath through his nostrils. Beatrice… It…it was her. Taking in the soft little sway of her hips, he finally snuffed out the cigar and accepted another whiskey. Already under her hypnosis, he couldn’t hide the way his gaze slipped down her body as she moved. 

    “…Never treats me sweet and gentle. The way he should. I got it bad and that ain't good…I got it bad, so bad. Though folks with good intentions. Tell me to save my tears. I'm glad I'm mad about him. I can't live without him…” Her impassioned voice stirred the crowd and all were silent. Pain. She sang from a place of longing… a place of truth. 

    “The Negress can sing, that’s for sure.”

    “Yeah, I’d treat her sweet and gentle.” Slowly sliding eyes over to the two assholes snickering, he tossed back the shot. The heat from the whiskey was pleasant and warm and he relaxed into his chair. He supposed he couldn’t be too upset. She was a vision of beauty and grace…the sight of her satisfied him. She stood in the center of the room, dressed in a stunning melon ensemble, elegant, lush and sheer layers of flowy chiffon and silk brushed the ground. 

    The form fitting dress underneath the layers clung to her delicate figure. Small shoulders were encased in short puffed sleeves, an angel trim gave her a divine glow. An off the shoulder neckline displayed a healthy amount of cleavage, just enough to make the mind wonder. Petite waist. Curvaceous hips continued swaying and short shapely legs. Slender arms extended, expressing her emotion. 

    “Lord above me. Make him love me. The way he should…” The piano drifted sweetly and soon, she finished, eyes closed and head back the slightest bit, revealing more of her neck. Deafening applause filled the hall and she smiled prettily. 

    “It’s a privilege to entertain you all tonight. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sing one more tune for you.” 

    “Encore!” Someone protested, sending a laugh across the air. 

    “Well, don’t mind if I do. This one’s a little up tempo number. It reminds me of being back home in Alabama, out when Momma said I shouldn’t have been. The sound of real hoppin’ jazz playin’… let me take you there for a minute,” Whistles and catcalling was soon drowned out by the sound of a rich energetic horn, piano and light drumming. She listened for a minute, lost in the music. The more they played, she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, fingers now slipping suggestively down the microphone stand.

    “Mm… that sounds good to me Jimmy… keep on sug…” She cajoled, making some of the men’s mouths drop. The women started to look uncomfortable, displeasure in their tight firm lips. Even so, the musicians seemed under her spell and the instruments intensified. 

    “All my life. I’ve been waiting for you. My wonderful one. I’ve begun. Living all my life. All my love. Has been waiting for you. My life is sublime. Now that I’m giving all my love…”  The President was lock-jawed but his eyes slid down her oscillating body just the same as every other man. A big fuck you to his wife, who sat there with a plastic smile. Smirking, he turned his eyes back onto her, giving her his undivided attention. 

    “You seem so lovely, so far above me. I’m almost afraid to look. But I adore you, I pledge before you. A heart that's an open book…All my life. Hold me close to your heart. But all else above. Hold my love. Darling, just hold my love…” With the sharp hiss from the horn, the song had ended and applause roared through all the ballroom. Curtseying, she bowed her head. 

    “Thank you…” 

 

*** 

 

    It had started to grow chilly but it was far too stuffy inside. She didn’t want to go back.. not yet. Out here, it was quiet. She’d had enough male attention for the evening. Their eyes craved for what she carried in her hips and her song, licking lips with hunger intensified by all the booze. She had forgotten how fun it was… playing with them. The power she wielded had almost been destroyed… power she’d reclaimed tonight. It felt good… like a piece of her had returned from some dark deep abyss.

     She’d danced with the President himself and when his hands held her far too tight past what was appropriate, she withdrew into a peaceful stillness. The summer air once warm was now cool and it raised goosebumps on her arms. The sun was starting to set, lilac, pastel orange and red. A weighty coat was placed across her trembling shoulders, distracting her attention.

She was about to say something but something stopped her. Refreshing woodsy spice, and slight citrus drifted up from the coat. Tinged with the sweetness of cedar from a cigar. Breath trembling, she slowly turned her head and felt her knees grow weak. Clothed in the shades of the setting sun, dark navy, gold and red he stood behind her, body just as powerful and confident as she remembered. 

    “I…Ichiro…” Fingers lifted and caressed her cheek, sweet and gentle. 

    “Beatrice,” A cry of joy pierced the air and she raced into his arms, releasing the tears in her eyes. Her wails of anguish turned into exclaims of joy. She told her heart’s story in the matter of minutes and it made him hug her tighter. She allowed her knees to finally give and he allowed the tears to well up in his eyes, hoisting her up into his arms with a firm lift. 

    “It’s you…. Oh God it’s you….” she wept, clutching his uniform in between clawed gripping fingers. Lifting a hand from her waist, he wiped her tears. 

    “I thought you were dead…I thought they’d killed you…” 

    “I’m a tough son of a bitch to kill.” Laughing through her tears, her tear filled eyes opened and settled on his. Leaning into his palm, she took a shaky breath. 

    “You’re here…” Lowering her now back to the ground, he pulled her forehead against his. 

    “I’m here.” He confirmed with a quiet voice. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: SCREECHES DRAMATICALLY. ICHI AND BEA SITTIN IN A TREE. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. BRUH. THEY REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOOOOODDDDDDDD. HEHE. Ichiro is such a freaking bad a**. So fearless. Kinda hot, not gonna lie. He problematic but my boy is trying out here lol

I've got pictures and some terms down below for y'all hehe. See you next chapter hehe. 

DL

chūi-  First Liutenant 

saikeirei- means the most respectful bow. Saikeirei is the most formal bow and is performed with a serious tone. This bow can be used to show respect to someone of very high status such as the emperor, or to show a strong sense of apology or guilt. (copied from https://gogonihon.com/en/blog/japanese-bow/) 

Io To- the Japanese term for Iwo Jima 

Grand Cordon of the Order of the Paulownia Flowers- copied from (https://www8.cao.go.jp/shokun/en/grand-cordon-of-the-order-of-the-paulownia-flowers.html) In 1888, Grand Cordon of the Order of the Paulownia Flowers was established as the highest award in the Orders of the Rising Sun.

It is the second to highest honor given above Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum which is only awarded or given to the Imperial/Royal family of Japan (and foreign royalty) 

Okay so now with the codes of bushido outlined, it's easy now to see why Ichiro indentifies himself with the spirit or essence of the wolf. In Shintoism, all life has a spirit. Wolves are predators, stealthy and fearsome creatures. To me, it makes sense hehe. Samurai. Warrior. Wolf. Alpha-male. Predator.  He my lil wolf-boo. ( SECOND because Kieran is the first baby he always at the top lol. I'm done for real now lol)

 

Ichiro's Formal uniform or as we call them in the States "Full dress uniform" Can you imagine him in this uniform looking like this? *swoons* BRUH. SEND HELP.

Bea's dress and hair style:

 

にじゅうよん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


niijuuyyon 


twenty-four 

 

 

Walking through hell for so long, it felt good to hold a tangible piece of Heaven. Her scent was an aphrodisiac, patchouli, and vanilla. There all over, it whet my appetite. Soft and supple, she felt so good under my fingers. Like a starving, dying man I salivated for sustenance that only she could provide. 

 

*** 

 

    “What are you doing here?” She’d lifted her hands to wipe still falling tears. 

    “It’s too long of a story to share here.” Sniffing, she sighed. 

    “I’m about done here anyway.” His gaze on her was intense as ever and she felt her cheeks grow warm. 

    “Where are you staying?” He asked, watching as she removed his coat from around her shoulders. 

    “Where are you staying?” She mirrored, handing it back to him. 

    “Answer the goddamn question, Bea.” Chuckling, she pursed her lips. 

    “Some Colored hotel you wouldn’t know the name to.”

    “Then come back with me. Have a drink with me.” Turning slightly, she turned her head away from him. 

    “I don’t think that’s a wise decision.” 

    “No?”

    “You know what will happen if I go back with you.” He couldn’t resist himself and pulled her into his arms, his lips now against her vanilla-flavored skin. 

    “What will happen and what you want to happen are two different things.” He heard her unsteady inhale of breath as he brushed his lips up into her hair. 

    “What will happen is you share a drink with me as I’ve asked. We’ll talk.” He neared her ear now and it took everything in him not to sink his teeth into her earlobe. 

    “What do you want to happen after that, Bea?” She turned in his arms, her gorgeous almond-shaped eyes shiny with tears and dark with a growing desire. 

    “There’s eyes on us. Back up.”

    “No.” 

    “For God’s sake,” Slightly pushing him back, she fixed her hair that hadn’t been out of place, the plentiful thick strands tied up away from her neck with a matching ribbon the same color as her dress. 

    “If you want, you can come with me. I’m about to leave.”

    “Acceptable.” 

    “Okay then. Let’s go.” She tried walking past him but he caught her hand, causing her to stop. She let him entwine their fingers and bring her hand up to his mouth to kiss. She took her time slipping her fingers away from his and entered back into the fray. 

 

*** 

 

    I watched her leave first, a small fur stole slipped around her shoulders. My heart beat heavily in my chest and I couldn’t get up fast enough. She was within my grip again and I’d be a fool to let her go. Downing the last of my whiskey, I bid the important ones goodnight and made my exit. A dainty hand came out of the window, letting me know it was her car. Getting into my own, I instructed the driver to follow her. As we drove, I let the cool night air whisper against my warm flesh. Letting my head rest against the back of the seat, I closed my eyes.

     It seemed fate allowed it… this…again. I didn’t want to fight or ignore it any longer. The war was over. Our countries no longer battled… no longer murdered with destruction in mind. If our countries desired to forge a new definition of peace, then I wanted to find peace too. With her. However fledgling it was. I wanted it. Like the selfish bastard I was, I’d make it happen. 

 

*** 

 

    A single knock at her door alerted her. Scrambling to finish up, she checked her hair one last time. She’d had it pressed and reaching now to mid-back, she was pleased to see that the curls still were holding up good. Clearing her throat, she glanced over herself one last time. Turning, she went to the door. Digging her nails in her shaking palms, she steadied it and twisted the knob, opening it. He stood at attention, minus the salute, and the sight of him made her chuckle. 

    “At ease, soldier. This isn’t boot camp.” Leaving the door open, she went to grab the decanter of rum. 

    “You gonna come in or are you gonna keep starin’ at me like a creep?” He entered the room smoothly, closing the door behind him quietly. 

    “You want a smoke?” She asked, pouring the second glass. 

    “Yes.” 

    “Figures. You smoke like sailors drink.” She joked, putting the top on the decanter. Pulling out one of her cigarettes and her small set of matches, she turned to find him still standing, now by her bed. 

    “I thought we were more comfortable than this. You’re hurting my feelings.” In response, he removed his dark navy trench coat. 

    “Better,” She said as she neared him. Lifting his leg, he unlaced his boot and pulled his foot free. 

    “Much better,” She praised with a small teasing smirk. He placed the boot on the ground, reaching over to take the other from his prosthetic foot. With a heavy sigh, he began to unbutton his uniform jacket when she handed him the cigarette. Taking it from her, he slipped it in between his lips as she lit a match to hand to him. 

    Reaching up, he grabbed her hand and lowered it, the match igniting the nicotine. His gaze drilled holes into her and she felt heat creep up on her neck. Stepping back, she watched as he blew out the smoke, his eyes slowly roaming down her body. Slightly narrowing in an intense focus, they drifted back up, setting everywhere they gazed on fire. Dear God. 

    Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms. 

    “You got a problem?” Lowering his fingers to grasp the cigarette and pull it from his mouth, he blew out the smoke quietly. 

    “No.” He answered, voice hushed. 

    “Good. Remember, you’re in my room.”

    “That you invited me to.” Pursing her lips, she headed back towards the drinks, the flow of the satiny robe trailing behind her. She knew she probably should have put on something more… appropriate.  The shimmery gold negligee she wore outlined every curve she possessed, and she knew she looked like aurulent sin. The matching robe gave a touch of modesty and elegance.

    “I don’t enter without an invitation. Remember that.”

    “Yeah, yeah. I invited you in and you’re sitting there like a bump on a log. I thought we were supposed to be talking.” 

    “You’re doing plenty of that already.”

    “Asshole,” At her response, he smirked and leaned back in the chair. Grabbing her drink, she tossed it back and with a pant wiped her mouth. 

    “You stress me out. For God’s sake. I spent a year thinking that you were dead and you just show up out of the blue like none of it ever happened.” His smirk waned ever-so-slightly. 

    “Talk to me Ichiro. What happened?” 

    “I was taken to the USSR as a prisoner of war.” Pouring herself another drink, she grabbed his and approached him again. 

    “I saw hell with my own eyes. Every day, I thought I was damned to rot there.” Taking the supplied drink, he took a drink or two.  

    “It was recompense for everything I’ve ever done.” Taking off his cap, he placed it on the table. Blinking at his hair, she watched him take another drink before tossing the rest of it back. Handing the glass back to her, he ran fingers through the messy jet-black bangs that rested at the apple of his cheek. He’d had the rest of the hair cut and trimmed into the style she was familiar with. Crisp, clean, short. Pushing his bangs back from his face, he drew in more nicotine.

    “They forced us to hard labor. It didn’t matter to them… young, old, as long as you could move your body, it meant you could work.” Pouring him more rum, she listened as he continued, 

    “They put me in the coal mines.”

    “Dear God,”

    “I worked under conditions not even fit for a rat. It didn’t matter that we were starved and dehydrated. Countless men died in that black hellhole.” She’d remained quiet, handing him his glass. Setting it down on the table, he swallowed thickly, glancing up at her. 

    “I wrote many letters, not even knowing your address. We weren’t allotted many but each and every one I addressed to you.” 

    “I received one.” He didn’t hide the surprise in his expression and she smiled prettily, cheeks growing flush. 

    “It was a poem I think… about you waiting for me in a field of grass or something like that.” It could have been the whiskey and rum that turned his cheeks pink but they blossomed in such gorgeous color. 

    “You’re the reason I’m here.” He spoke, the rasp in his voice oh so delightful and deep. 

    “I didn’t do anything…” Crushing the cigarette with more force than what was necessary, he reached and grabbed her by the arms. Drawing her closer with a forceful pull, he looked up at her, now in between his legs. 

    “Words like that are going to piss me off, Beatrice.” He said, letting his hands release their tight grip on her arms. She couldn’t speak and found herself mute as the warmth of his large palms pressed against her waist.

    “I am here because of you.” He repeated, breath fanning against her chin. 

    “Ichiro…”

    “You comforted my dreams when I fell from exhaustion.” Spoken now against her lips, those damned eyes of his had her in captivity and didn’t show signs of letting her go. 

    “You encouraged the will to live to persist when I was desperate for death.” With a breathy sigh, he spoke again, his voice a whisper, barely there. 

    “My hands are stained with the blood of so many. But, when you take hold of them, the blood disappears and becomes clean.” Her eyes began to water and she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. 

    “I’m glad that by fate, one of them reached you.” He lifted his hands once more and to her shoulders, gripping the robe in between his fingers. Pulling it down her shoulders, he let his lips roam and explore as they pleased, up against her throat, soft little kisses pressed there against the fragile skin. A small little whimper vibrated against his lips as he gently bit into her neck. 

    “Ichiro,” Meant to be said seriously came out as a soft moan. She felt moist between her legs and the feeling of his member poking against her served as a sweet call and response. Alcohol emboldening him, his mouth slowly moved back down, kisses growing closer and closer to her erect little nipples, now clearly outlined against her negligee. 

    “Ichiro…” Lifting his head, she pressed her forehead against his. 

    “Easy daddy…” The energy between them they both felt… both wanted. 

    “I’ve overstepped.” He said matter-of-factly, swallowing thickly. Leaning forward to press herself against him, she closed her eyes and pressed her nose in the crook of his neck, his scent sending a pleasurable shudder through her.

    “It’s late and I’m not in my right mind. I should leave.” Pulling away from him, she pulled the sheer robe back up across her shoulder. 

    “Stay. Please.” She said softly, reaching for his hand.  His jaw grew tight and yet her hand remained outstretched, waiting… yearning for his touch. 

    “The least you can do after giving me all this grief is hold me…let me feel your heart beatin’.” Slowly, his fingers lifted and entwined hers. Leading him to her bed, she watched as he sat, his gaze inebriating her as she slowly let the robe slide down her shoulders. The lush garment fell to the ground with a hush. Lips and fingers reached, sought, found, around her waist, in his soft inky strands. Strong palms, feeling the roundness of her derriere, lifted her up and brought her even closer. Slipping onto his lap, they spoke naught, their eyes, bodies, lips, and teeth reunited sweetly in joyous reunion. 

    Wrapping solid safe arms around her, he led them to lay and she followed, closing her eyes against the robust heart that beat against her ear. She allowed the tears to escape and his kiss against her temple to beckon her into slumber. 

 

 

*** 

 

    She wasn’t a figment of my imagination. She wasn’t a cruel delusion brought on by delirium. She was real. Soft youthful flesh of cheek, nose, and small plump lips. Smooth unmarred brow warm and at peace. I felt my heart fill with emotion. What I wanted was in front of me, my deepest desire breathing against my chin. I kept quiet and observant as she moved, turning now to face the window. 

    Heavy with sleep, she lifted a hand up and back, pressing the back of it against my chest. Feeling the evidence of my presence still, her hand relaxed and her body flattened against mine, her back leaving no space in between. I couldn’t breathe, my heart now ringing in my ears. She was real and with my hands, now I could take her once again in my possession. 

End Notes:

 

 A/N: As the kids say nowadays I STAN THEM. lol. I'm a sucka for them I really am your honor LOL. ;__; They so spicy BRO. I CAN'T TAKE IT. It's the "easy daddy" for me. OOF. LET'S GO BEA. This scene was in my head for months and I was so glad I finally released it LOL. Though, in the scene, Bea didn't stop him and they got jiggy LOL. That'll come later. lol. lotsofitwillcomelater *cough cough* SO. Um. Yeah. Ichiro's a hottie and Bea's a baddie. We love it. lol. Soooo I obviously cannot count. (I'm tired lol) I said five chapter update soooo yeah no it's six LOL. I have ONE more if y'all can hang lol. Okay, here we go~ 

 

LOOK AT THIS NIGHT GOWN. BEATRICE GRACE IS NOT PLAYING GAMES WITH THIS MAN OR ANY OF US OKAY. SHE STEPPIN ON EVERYBODY NECK 

 

 

 

にじゅうご by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

niijuu-go 

twenty-five 


 

The light of the sun flashed bright into her face and she groaned, trying to turn her head away. With a sigh, she slowly forced herself up into a sit. It was quiet, the peace of pale light and silence, birds singing early morning odes. Lifting her hands to rub her eyes, she yawned. A sleepy gaze found him sitting at the table. He’d removed his prosthesis. His uniform shirt and his pants. The sight of him in a sleeveless tank and briefs woke her up and she took her time getting out of bed. Watching as he reached into a bowl, her hands lifted across his shoulders, causing him to grow still. 

    “Morning, sugar.” She spoke drowsily, leaning down to hug him. 

    “Good morning,” His voice was even raspier and husky from the morning and she smiled against him, her lips pressing against his neck. 

    “You hungry?”

    “Partially.” Pulling away from him, she observed as he lifted the rag and wrung out most of the water, slathered with suds. 

    “I’ll order some breakfast for us.”

    “That won’t be necessary.” He said, starting to clean his skin. 

    “And why won’t it?”

    “I’ll eat while I’m out.” Swallowing, she lifted her arms above her head to stretch. 

    “And where is it you think you’re gonna go?”

    “I’ll find somewhere.” Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes. 

    “It’s too early in the morning for your shenanigans.” Swiping the rag from his hand she let it plop back into the bowl and removed it from the table. Wordless, he watched her refill the bowl with water at the appropriate temperature and amount of soap. 

    “If you gon clean it, clean it right.” Returning to the table, she placed the bowl back down with a slight huff. 

    “Beatrice..”

    “Hush.” She said, wringing out the rag. Nice and soapy, she knelt below him, propped up on her knees. He seemed stunned as she began to gently wash the residual limb. At the contact, he jerked, the limb lifting away from her. 

    “I…I can do it on my own. I don’t need your help.” 

    “I know you can,” She said, ignoring the stutter and embarrassment in his voice. Laying a warm palm against him, she softly brought his leg back towards her. 

    “You haven’t been cleaning it as good as you should be.”

    “Bea…” 

    “Don’t complain. A man lets his woman care for him.” At that, his cheeks grew warm and rosy. 

    “I am your woman aren’t I?” He couldn’t answer and she chose the moment to lift up, going to get a towel. Turning, she felt her heart slam into her chest. He was a vision of temptation sitting there and it made her shudder with delight. One of his arms rested on the table, hand closed tightly in a fist. The other hung down loosely, that hand also in a fist. He sat up straight, leaned against the back of the chair. His legs were somewhat close together and stiff with tension. The most obvious thing gaining her attention was the aroused shape of his manhood.

     Like a gift in pretty wrapping, the well-shaped form laid perfectly against his adjacent thigh. At her eyes on him, on his evidence, the blush from his cheeks grew down into his neck and the tips of his ears. Without waiting for an answer, she resumed her position on the floor. Grabbing the rag again, still warm and pleasant, she scrubbed the healed scar tissue. 

    “What are we doing?” He’d started to breathe heavier, his eyes intent and dark as they watched her every move. Taking the rag, she gently pat the skin dry, now clean and free of the slight crust that had formed. 

    “I don’t understand your question.” He said, voice hushed as she eyed her handiwork. Satisfied, she let her gaze drift up his large masculine body. Starting with the thick outline that attracted her attention. There was no mistaking it, the curve and flare of the head clearly defined. Her triangle tingled just looking at it and her thoughts grew muddled. Up solid muscular thighs and to his shirt… it couldn’t hide the well-developed muscles on his abdomen and pectorals. And then, there were his shoulders, broad, powerful, and well-knit. 

    “You’ve made clear that you want to fuck me.” Plush pouty lips formed the words and narrowed monolid eyes cut into her. Before he could respond, she reached up to grab the bandages. Laying it against his dry skin, she began to wrap the stump. 

    “We’re not back at Mukden. We’re free now. I want to hear you say what we are to each other.” Those lips now frowning, he relaxed with a sigh, his legs spreading wider. The room was quiet as she finished wrapping and she swallowed tightly. Inhaling through his nostrils, he opened and flattened his palms. Lifting his hand he laid it gently upon her hair. Heart pounding, her eyes closed as he caressed the strands with light fingers. 

    “You are an impossible woman.” His voice wasn’t angry or irritated. Rather it was slow and smooth, matching thumbs as they glided across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and pressed against her lips. 

    “You’re so needy.” He observed, his lips smirking deeply. Her cheeks grew warm and she opened her eyes to look up at him. Parting her lips, his fingers joined his thumbs as they came to close around her neck. Her breath caught in her throat and she lifted her hands to wrap around his wrists.  Grip light, he pulled her up, forcing her to get up onto her knees. Closer he brought her still. 

    “I do want to take you into my hands and fuck the breath from your lungs. I want to make you cry. Beg. Plead.” His voice rushed across her as burlap against skin, rough and throaty.

    “I want to satisfy the burning privation in you…” Lips now a hair’s length away, his warm breath, still tinged with last night’s alcohol fluttered pleasantly against her mouth. 

    “I want to fill you with so much pleasure that you’ll never want to find it with anyone else. I want to be the only one to crush, crumble and make you whole again.” His lips finally kissed hers and she moaned softly at the forceful entry of his tongue into her mouth. Separating, she opened her blurry eyes to see those seductive lips of his smirking, a smile soon appearing. Rare and captivating, he chuckled slightly. 

    “I have many wants that I intend to fulfill so I won’t get rid of you. I have no choice but to keep you.” Letting go of her throat, he watched her lift herself up to stand, completely breathless… void of words. 

    “Consider that a confirmation of what we are.” She lifted a hand to her neck and pulled away from him, going to the phone. 

    “H-Hi…u-um… I’d like two breakfast specials, please. Yes… yes, thank you.”

 

*** 

 

    I wasn’t much good with articulation. At first. That came with time and even then it was average at best. I wasn’t a man of words. I preferred to show instead of talk. I couldn’t tell her that she made my heart beat so fast that I felt it would come out of my chest. I didn’t know how to tell her that I envisioned a life together, as silly as it sounded. A war veteran and the prisoner of war he’d once held captive. Fate seemed to will it, the seed blossoming in 1943. I couldn’t be a fool and deny it. I, in my selfish irrational want, called her mine mentally, emotionally…I even claimed hold of her intellect. I was, by nature, possessive and I refused to share her with anyone. 

    I knew that I was breaking her down, chipping away little by little at her resolve. With every kiss and touch, I tried to devour the fear that lay inside her and empty it. I wanted to prepare the place where I would eventually dwell. She wasn’t quite ready yet but…I could see it in her eyes. Growing every day like unripened fruit turning with the season, it was encouraged with care. Soon, it would be ready to be picked, eaten, and enjoyed. I, also by nature, was an extremely patient man and was determined to enjoy the harvest of my efforts. 

    Breakfast came and it was strange. I’d never before seen anything like it and truth be told, was hesitant to eat it. Seeing her eat so heartily made my chest flutter. Memories of her emaciated frail body sometimes haunted me in nightmares. I decided that I would try…this new thing called the American lifestyle. 

 

***

 

    “How can you eat this?” Cheeks full of what she called ‘pancakes’, she chewed and swallowed before glancing over at his plate, untouched. 

    “What do you mean how can I eat this? What’s wrong with it?” 

    “It’s all bread.” Offended now, she licked the syrup from the corner of her mouth and sat back, arms crossed. 

    “It is not.” 

    “This flat cake is bread. The circular dough is bread. The-is this a fried potato?” At his confused and disgusted face, she burst out laughing, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. 

    “I find nothing funny about this. How the fuck am I supposed to eat this, Bea?” Grinning, she wiped the tears away. 

    “You telling me you don’t have pork, bread and potatoes in Japan?” 

    “Sure we do.”

    “Right. So see, it ain’t much different…” Taking her fork, she pointed to the items on the plate. 

    “These are eggs, same as what y’all have back home. I ordered yours over easy cause that always seems a popular choice.” Frowning, he sat back in his chair, delighting her with, dare she say, what looked like a tiny pout. 

    “That’s called bacon. It’s nothin’ but pork strips that are fried. That’s the potatoes or home fries as we call em’.”

    “Home…fries?”

    “Yes, home fries. Now, those are biscuits and they taste real good with butter, honey or gravy drizzled on em’…even syrup or jam.”

    “Jam?” Lifting the small jar of preserves, his eyebrows lifted in understanding. 

    “It’s down home-cookin’ like we are used to.” 

    “It’s greasy.” Getting up, she took her fork and picked up some potatoes and a tiny bit of the eggs. 

    “It’s good. Gon’ try some.” 

    “No.”

    “Ichiro,”

    “I said no.”

    “You are acting like a child.” That pout on his face grew deeper and God in Heaven he looked so darn cute right then. Softening her voice, she tried it another way. 

    “Just try a teeeeeeeny little bit for me, daddy. Please?” Hook, line, and sinker. HOME RUN! He scrunched up his nose for a moment before giving in with a defeated little sigh. Leaning forward, he slowly took the food offered and chewed it, moving it all around in his mouth.     

    “Well? How’s it taste?” 

    “It’s… all right.” 

    “See, there you go! Just step out on a little faith.” Picking up his own fork, he slowly picked some more potatoes. With a pretty smile, she sat back in her chair and breakfast resumed on schedule. 

    When they were finished and he ate all he could tolerate, they proceeded to get dressed. She’d gone into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth. Slipping into her dress, she opened the door. 

    He sat on the side of the bed and began to put his artificial limb on, lifting the straps to tie them around his hips. With his undershirt on, he put his legs into his pants and stood to put them on.  Reaching for his uniform shirt he put it on and tucked it nice, neat and taunt. Buckling his belt, he glanced up to see her watching him. With a flirty smile, he brushed past her to enter the bathroom. When it was all said and done, he reappeared, hair once messy now smoothed back from his face, wet with water. Going for his cap, he placed it onto his head

    “What time is your car arriving?”

    “Less than fifteen minutes.” He answered, pulling on the outer uniform jacket. 

    “Are you going back?” 

    “Japan?”

    “Yeah.”

    “No. Not yet.”

    “What do you mean not yet?”

    “I’ve been sent as the Emperor’s ambassador. I must stay on assignment for a remaining six months.” Her lips formed a small ‘O’. 

    “Where will you be staying? Somewhere I can write?” 

    “A place called Los Angeles.” Nodding, she went to grab a piece of paper and a pen. Writing her address, she handed it to him. 

    “When you get settled, write me. I put my Momma’s house phone number too in case you wanna call. But, it’s best to probably write so it won’t annoy her too much.” Staring at the paper, he acknowledged it with a brief nod and into his pocket it went. Fifteen minutes went by quick because the honk of the horn sounded outside. Almost immediately, her heart began to sink in her chest. 

    “Walk with me.” He said, outstretching his hand. They took the stairs slow, one at a time and on her way down, she’d pressed her head against his arm. 

    “I don’t want you to leave.” 

    “I don’t want to either.” Step. 

    “I just…got you back.” Step. 

    “We’ll see each other again.” Step. 

    “Promise?” 

    “I promise, Bea.” Step. Step. Step. Her back smashed back against the wall suddenly and his lips took possession of hers. The contact set her ablaze and she gripped his uniform tightly in her hands. She offered up a sweet little hum and he swallowed it with one last kiss.

    “I’ll write as soon as I can.” Breath uneven, she unclenched her fingers and straightened his uniform. 

    “Okay…I believe you.” Fingers entwined and they continued down the flight of stairs. She didn’t want to, but she let his fingers slip out of her grasp and watched as he slid into the backseat Throat tight now and eyes watery with tears, she wrapped her arms around herself, hearing the rev of the engine. As the car began to drive off, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He gave her one last parting, a wink, that made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Closing her mouth, she smiled softly and gave a nod as finally it pulled away. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: No words. Spice is life at this point lol. WHEW. HOT HOT HOT alert lol. *sniffs* They've once again been forced to be apart from each other so soon but I promise it won't be that long until they are back together again hehe. I love the bits of humor moments between them too, they are the cutest LOL. The breakfast scene has to be my favorite scene of this chapter lol. 

That's all for this week hehe. I had a goal of how many chapters I wanted with this story and we've surpassed that LOL. SO. lol. I'm allllllmost done but we've got a little bit of a way still to go. Ichiro and Bea's story will be told completely hehe. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this week's updates~ <3 

God bless and have a fantastic week hehe 

DL~

So.... this is only here for science okay lol So, this dude goes by beastlybadwolf on tiktok and instagram. I literally came across his videos completely by accident. Y'ALL. When I saw him...his physique rather... I said omg that's EXACTLY what Ichiro looks like in my head lol. I got entirely too excited LOL. So, I present to you Ichiro's body visual and hair at some point oop LOL. *you'rewelcomehehe* 

 

にじゅうろく by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

niijuu-roku

twenty-six 

 

 

 

June 

1947 

 

 

    Miss Jones, 

    Since you’ll have me, I will travel from California to Chicago in a few days’ time. I’ve purchased a train ticket and expect to see you in about two to three days. I look forward to seeing you. 

 

 

 

 

*** 

 

    

    “So, who this man again in this letter?”

    “My beau momma.”

    “Mmhm. Where you meet this beau yours?” It had been rehearsed…. she’d formulated a whole story as to explain him… It hurt her to even consider lying to her momma but she wasn’t left without much choice. 

    “We met at one of my performances.”

    “And you say he a veteran?”

    “Yes ma’am.”

    “What branch he serve in?”

    “Army.”

    “Ah-huh.”

    “Now Momma, he’s comin all the way from California to see us. He wanna meet you real bad.”

    “Where his people from?” A sharp slice cut into her stomach. 

    “He’s of Japanese descent Momma…member I told you before?” Her mother had the same look on her face that she did when she’d told her the last time. One of severe displeasure. Her whole face twisted up like she smelt something rotten. 

    “How the hell you end up pickin’ one of them damned Japs Beatrice Grace? Gawd in Heaven, they no good.”

    “Ma…”

    “I don’t care what you say. They no good. Far as I’m concerned, all of em should gon back where they came from.” 

    “But what if they from here?” She countered, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress. The sour face intensified. 

    “If they was born and raised here, where they supposed to go? Ain’t they jus’ as American as we are?” 

    “Hm. All these well educated and fine Negroes up here and you go and get you one of them rice eaters.” 

    “That ain’t nice.” 

    “Well, I lookin’ out for you. You the only chile I got left. I be damned I lose you.” Swallowing thickly, she kissed her temple. 

    “I didn’t ask or intend to fall in love with him. Believe me when I tell you that.”

    “Hm.”

    “Just…just give him a chance. Please?” Finally letting go of her frown, the woman surrendered with an eyebrow lift and a sigh. 

    “Fine. We’ll see bout this boy. What’s his name again?” 

    “His name is Will.” 

    “Okay then. If ya done begging over your man, come on and help me in the garden.” Smiling, she let her go. 

    “Yes ma’am.”       

 

 

***

 

    Stopping, he sat back in his chair. Lifting his beer to his mouth, he took a swig. This must have been the period where all those letters came from. Placing his bottle back onto his table, he lifted fingers to glide through his hair. It’d take hours to read through them all. The ones already skimmed through were brief ones he’d sent a month after President Truman’s party. Mr. Matsuda had experienced the hardest time adjusting to American life and he wrote about it frequently in his letters to Mrs. Matsuda. He was sure that it was a chaotic scene. Japanese-Americans interned for the duration of the war, now returned to their homes to find them occupied with Black residents and sent to temporary slums. Anti-Black, Anti-Asian sentiments and white supremacy were at an all-time high, something else he spoke about in his letters. 

    Mr. Matsuda had no choice but to assimilate into the everyday culture and quickly. He’d changed his name to Will and crafted a story to offer to anyone who could, would, and did ask. While the Japanese population was next to nothing in Vermont, LA had traditionally always had a high influx so the fabrication made sense. Born to first-generation parents in the city of Los Angeles, he served in the United States Army and was honorably discharged right before Japan surrendered due to his leg amputation. 

    Lifting his beer again, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. For someone who prided himself on being brutally honest, he also made a pretty good liar. His letters humored him in all honesty. They reflected him at his core. Never much of a talker, he kept them short and sweet and to the point. 

It made sense…those times were incredibly and increasingly dangerous and he needed to survive. Creating another identity wasn’t so much of a lie as it was a necessity. Picking up another stack of letters, he unbound the aged twine that held them together. He’d take a break and read some more. 

 

*** 

 

    “What’s your name again?” 

    “Will, ma’am.” 

    “Mmhm.”  It had only been thirty minutes since the man had showed up in their yard and already Momma looked like she smelt something rotten. Truth be told, her palms were sweaty and it had taken her a while to fully process his arrival. He’d given her a call while at the train station and she was glad he did. It gave her time to prepare some. But what she couldn’t prepare for was her heart about to beat its way outside her chest laying eyes on him. He definitely looked the part, his Americanized style making butterflies dance in her stomach. He’d cut his hair even shorter than before, the sides clipped short, not buzzed as before. His bangs weren’t as long as before either but still long enough to comb and shape.

     Dressed in a pressed pair of grey-brown pinstripe slacks and matching suspenders, his broad shoulders and thick biceps were emphasized by a form-fitting cream collared shirt and a red, gold, and cream tie. 

    “Gon invite your man inside. I get some tea.” Her momma said with a frown, turning to leave her on the porch. It felt weird to call him her man. Saying it out loud was completely laughable. And even so, the words Ichiro and Boyfriendmade her cheeks grow red like a schoolgirl. He didn’t move; his hands were inside of his pockets and his humored gaze and smirking lips made her take a deep breath. Slowly taking a step off of the porch, she took her time as she approached his boxy masculine silhouette. Only when she’d grown close enough to catch his cologne did she speak. 

    “Glad you made it safely.” 

    “Mmhm.” His voice quietly agreed and the expression on his face was changing. Silence now ensued between them but he refused to see it turn awkward. Lifting his hand, he brushed his fingers against her cheek in greeting. 

    “Someone’s birthday is today, hm?” Cheeks crimson, she looked down at her feet.

    “Happy birthday, Bea.” She let him bring her downcast gaze upward to his. 

    “T-thank you.” Smirk now having turned into a small friendly smile, his gaze was warm as it roamed her face, taking in her appearance. She looked awfully pretty in a rich blue dress with little white flowers. The illusion of an outer coat tied closed at the neck and waist, providing a slim peek of skin. Otherwise, the rustle of her skirts, soft round shoulders and 3/4 sleeves expressed elegance and a delightful dose of femininity. Something he appreciated and missed. The war had kept her mannish and boxy but such an enticing and lush silhouette was that of a woman in the right dress. 

    To complete her look, she wore a fitting pair of deep navy heels and a hat, rightly tilted to the side a bit, bows decorating the back and side. While he thought she looked good in whichever color she decided to wear, the color blue encouraged large butterflies to attack his gut. Perhaps because it was his favorite color. 

    “I coulda came to you, you know. To LA. You ain’t have to come all this wa-”

    “I didn’t need your permission.”

    “I know…but…”

    “I haven’t even been here a half hour and you’re fussing at me. Christ, woman.” She’d taken hold of his wrist and slipped her fingers in between his. 

    “I could go back to the airport.” 

    “You wouldn’t dare. Don’t be like that Ichiro.”

    “Give me a proper greeting then.” He had this way of saying words like they were commands and it annoyed her. The way he spoke electrified her though, quiet and calm and full of assertive dominance, that signature rasp made her lose her breath. She could feel the eyes of her mother cutting into her from the window but she tightened her grip on his hand and stepped closer until her body pressed against his. Lifting her chin, she gently lifted onto her tip toes, her lips parted. 

    Deciding to meet her half way, he graciously lowered his head and shoulders and the action caused their lips to meet. Heat crashed into her almost immediately and as their lips softened and molded against each other, she relaxed against him, letting his hand go. Slowly lifting hers to his chest, she exhaled in relief. Only to take a breath did she separate before another kiss was shared. She’d missed him… the way he smelled, the way he felt under her fingers, the smooth softness of his mouth. 

    Respectfully, he kept his hands inside of his pockets but she knew he wanted to wrap them around her. Pulling away from him abruptly, she gathered her breath and let her hands fall away from him. Clearing her throat, she balled up her lips and with a quick lick to them, gently coaxed one of his hands from his pockets. 

    “Better?” 

    “Much better.” He said, pressing a small kiss against her temple. 

    “Come on in and meet Momma.” 

 

*** 

 

 

    Ruth Jones was a resilient and unyielding woman. She stood a little taller than her daughter, not by much. If I had to guess, she was five feet five inches. Beatrice had definitely inherited her beauty; their skin color varying in shade, her mother’s a slightly darker yet delightful cinnamon color. They both appeared nearly identical with small but full lips and those almond shaped brown eyes. While Beatrice had considerably thicker hair than her mother, she kept it long whereas her mother kept her naturally wavy hair in an attractive short cut. 

    It humored me just how much the two of them were alike. It also amazed me, in my observation, to see how young she appeared. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume that the two of them were sisters instead of mother and daughter. The time inside of the house was considerably awkward and we spent most of the time sitting and looking at one another. The lips of her mouth twisted up, her eyes drifted down my appearance time and time again, as if by luck should she blink, someone else would appear to sit there. I kept my gaze neutral and muted and stared at her just the same. 

 

 

 

 

*** 

 

    “Is this all he does? Just sit and stare at you?” Spoken like he wasn’t even there, she turned annoyed eyes towards her daughter. 

    “You ain’t said nothin’ to him either Momma. Y’all just been starin’.” 

    “Don’t talk much, Tokyo?” Beatrice’s eyes grew wide as they cut over at her mother. But he, however, was used to being insulted. In fact, the insults only increased since moving to Los Angeles. 

    “Will. My name is Will.” Sitting back into the chair, she crossed her arms. 

    “Mmhm, you said that before.”

    “Momma.” 

    “What?” 

    “Stop it, please. You’re bein’ rude and I don’t appreciate it.” The woman took the longest time to release her frown. 

    “I just want the both of you to think about what you’re doin’. Whatever this is between youYou know damn well these Japs don’t like us and we don’t like them. What the hell y’all two look like bein’ out in public together and of all things being inappropriate?” Still, he said nothing and Beatrice about turned into an apple the way she flushed with embarrassment. 

    “I’m lookin’ out for my daughter, Will. Respectfully, she should date someone within her race. Nothin’ against you.” 

    “On the contrary, you’ve stacked everything against me. Something I completely understand.” He finally decided to speak and both women grew quiet as he continued, 

    “It’s natural for a mother to want to protect her children. I do not fault you for this at all.” 

    “But?” Her mother supplied, mouth twisting back up into a sour frown. 

    “I have every intention of continuing to date your daughter, with or without your approval.” She bristled at his cool statement and she took a breath as if to next speak but her mother beat her to the punch. 

    “What world do you live in? Your kind nearly destroyed the world and you in my house tellin’ me you gon do whatever you want to with my daughter anyway. Some nerve you got!” 

    “My kind were born right here in America, same as you. My kind were taken from their homes and thrown in concentration camps, punished for a war that they had no part of.” He not once raised his voice at her but his tone was low and weighty. 

    “No disrespect is meant towards you or your home when I say this, ma’am. Beatrice and I have been through too much bullshit to allow emotional and irrational fools to force us apart.” 

    “Oh? How long y’all been datin’? Bea’s just now mentioned you.” Longer than you think. 

    “Give or take almost two years now.” Calm as ever, he took another sip of water. 

    “Almost two years? And you just now mentionin’ him to me?” 

    “I knew you wasn’t gon like him.”

    “Tuh,” Placing his water back onto the table, he briefly glanced between them. 

    “She and I have made incredible sacrifices and took major risks to give this relationship a try. To both of our surprise, we’ve lasted this long already. I’m pleased in that.”

    “Your parents? How they feel ‘bout you datin’ a Negro girl?” 

    “They accept her.”

    “Without even seein’ her?”

    “That’s going to change shortly.”

    “Hm.”

    “I want her to accompany me back to California. Meet my parents and see my environment a little bit. And I want to see hers.” At that, Beatrice looked nervous, eyes downward and hands clutched tightly. 

    “Seems like you got more than just courtin’ in mind, Will.” He lifted his eyes towards her mother. 

    “Well, I think you’re one persistent bastard.” 

    “Momma!” To that, he replied with a grin.

    “I’m definitely a persistent bastard.” Her mother clenched her jaw. 

    “I’m not a perfect man. I don’t have all the answers and Beatrice and I are learning as we go. What I can assure you, Mrs. Jones, is this: I love her. I would not be here if I didn’t.”  She uncrossed her arms and relaxed them and with a sigh, all of the tension left her face. 

    “I understand you have preconceived notions about my community and I assume that’s normal given what we have all just experienced. But, I implore you to give me a chance. Your daughter has.” She was quiet for a long while, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

    “What does it matter if I approve or not? Y’all gon keep bein’ togetha.”

    “It matters to Bea.” He answered, turning his eyes onto her. Reaching now for her daughter’s hand, she swallowed tightly, glancing at him once or twice more. 

    “You sure about this man Bea baby?” Smiling a tad, she gave a small nod. 

    “I’m sure Momma.” 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Heyyyyyy Family! How y'all doin hehehe. My week is going well!! God is good and I'm happy to share my updates with y'all this week hehe. I scaled back some with only four chapters, like I was updating before. hehe. Now, I know what y'all gon say and BEFORE y'all come for Bea's mom let me remind you of the time period and events leading up to this moment.

Ruth is...a piece of work that she is (that's where Bea gets it from oop) She's very protective of Bea, she's her last remaining child. I'm sure anybody would be afraid. Now, let me say that I absolutely LOVE how Ichiro handled her. He's not afraid or intimdated by her in the least and he lets the insults about him roll off his shoulders.

Being in America has definitely changed our leading anti-hero huh? He's encountered people, places and things that have given rise to a new way of thought. He's had to create a new identity while being in the States and honestly, I rather like it. Will Matsuda.  It sounds strong, just like him.

I've got pictures and stuff for you hehe. 

Enjoy this week's updates hehe. 

DL~

** P.S- I sincerely appreciate all the comments I've gotten! I read each one hehe. I'm so glad you lovelies are enjoying the story hehehe** 

 

Ichi-bo's outfit: 

His hair (without gel of course but just for reference) 

 

Bea's dress (the blue one) 

にじゅうなな by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


niijuu-nana 


twenty-seven 


 

 

 

    

    Her mother was right when she said I had considered more than just dating. A part of me had been tugging with the reality of marriage as early as ’45. Of course, then it was inconceivable and only a fool’s dream. Even then, I knew that the connection I had formed with her was one I wouldn’t replicate with anyone else. I’d poured far too much of my time and energy into one woman and if by chance, she rejected me and turned me down, I reasoned that I’d stay by myself. 

    After all, what use did it serve to marry for the sake of tradition? If I couldn’t have marriage the way I wanted then I didn’t want it. If I could not have Beatrice at all then I didn’t want a relationship. Simple as that. 

 

*** 

 

    Green leaves, trees, beige sidewalk, and black gravel streets. Signs of laundry mats, grocers and clothing shops. Mundane ordinary life. 

    “Where are we going?” The ride had been silent and she’d glanced out of the window at all the passing houses and establishments. 

    “Some place I think you’ll like.” Is all he said, his body relaxed back against the backseat. Turning his head, he found her gaze on the scenes outside, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. With a small purse of his lips, he reached over and pulled her hands apart, entwining their fingers. 

    “Nervous?” He observed quietly watching as she turned her head to look at him. 

    “A little bit.”

    “Don’t be.” 

    “Easy for you to say.”

    “Let me surprise you for fuck’s sake.” There, she grinned and sighed, moving to press her body against his. Head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, eyes down on their hands in his lap. 

    “Fine, daddy. Surprise me.” He didn’t reply with words, only a smirk and the ride resumed as quiet as it began. 

 

*** 

 

    Though I’d never before been in Chicago, I had come in contact with a few prominent and up-and-coming Negro musicians. I’d met them in a bar of some night club and we’d become friends thanks to the booze and music. They’d been touring in LA and were surprised that someone like me enjoyed their music. All thanks to a pretty brown thing a million miles away. Where they asked and I told them. Chicago. How funny one or two of them were native to the city and with more booze and cigarettes invited me to one of their shows. Of course, if I brought my ‘pretty brown thing’ with me, entry was free and the bar tab would be paid. I took them up on it with the hopes that she’d like this unusual and spontaneous effort. 

 

***  

 

 

    She sat up now, eyes on the neighborhood they entered. Familiarity punched her in the gut and she tightened her grip on his hand, taking in the notable differences of advertisements. 

    “Ichiro?” 

    “Hm?”

    “What are we doing on the south side of Chicago?” 

    “Is that where we are?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Is that a bad thing?” 

    “Depending on where you go it is.” Letting go of his hand, she dug her nails into the skin of her fingers. 

    “Joe and I got our start here… performing.”

    “You did, hm?” Lifting his own fingers, he brushed her cheek. The action caused her to stop stabbing her nails into her hand. 

    “Mmhm.”

    “Why are you so unsettled?” He asked, reaching for her. 

    “Just thinking back on some past memories…that’s all.” She answered, face now pressed against his chest. 

    “This place birthed me… birthed us. We definitely had growing pains here.” Lifting her head, she smiled up at him. 

    “Makes me wonder who the hell you’ve met in California.” 

    “You’ll see.” 

 

*** 

 

    A sweet and slow saxophone played in the smoke-filled club and couples danced nice and close as they entered the place. At the sound, Bea stopped and closed her eyes, the sweetest little smile on her face. It said, I’m home. Taking her hand, he guided her through the fray of bodies and cigar smoke, leading her to the bar. Taking a seat, he pulled her in between his legs, hands light on her waist. 

    “Hungry?” He asked, his eyes warm like melted chocolate. 

    “Mmhm.” 

    “Tell him what you want.” 

    “A tutti frutti cocktail and a half sandwich, light on the pickle.” A voice spoke behind them, making her jump. Looking up at the man, she let out a scream and jumped up to hug the big bear of a man. Grinning, his massive arms came around her petite little frame nice and careful. 

    “Oh my Gawd…. Mook…” Handsome white teeth smiled and a smooth black hand lifted to lay against her delicate hat. 

    “Hey there Bea.” Letting go of him, she turned to see Ichiro comfortably leaning back against the bar, lifting a vodka to his mouth. 

    “How’d… how’d you know?” 

    “How else? I told him.” The man affectionately nicknamed Mook drawled, the South still on his tongue. 

    “I can’t believe this…” A hearty laugh shook the man’s chest and he lifted her face by the chin. 

    “You growed up into a real pretty thing there Bea.”

    “Yeah, and you growed up into a bear, Mook. How the hell’d you get so damn big?” Humored eyes watched the exchange, lips in a small little grin. It was funny that in her element, she seemed to loosen up. Comfortable and free now, she spoke with that Southern accent of hers he liked hearing. 

    “I always was big, girl. You just was too small.” 

    “Watch it. Lucky Joe ain’t here to sock you one.” 

    “Tutti Frutti and half sandwich, light on the pickle.” The bartender called behind them, bringing their attention forward. 

    “Oh my gawd… where are my manners…. Mook, this here uh… this is Will Matsuda. Will, this is Thelonious Monk.”

    “We met.” He acknowledged, eyes glittering with tease. 

    “Yeah, I met your fella back in LA. I see why you sweet on him. He the kinda guy you like.” 

    “Shut up.” The two men grinned and Mook chuckled. 

    “I told him all about you and Joe.”

    “Did you now?”

    “Mmhm. Told him how naughty you was as a girl. Got all that mouth from Joe I tell ya.” 

    “Still does. Drives me up a fucking wall.” He vouched, winking at her pursed lips. 

    “Poor girl needed a sister to set her right. Joe was too tough sometimes.” 

    “Yeah and he taught me how to deal with no good Negroes like you.” Ichiro choked on his vodka and half coughed half laughed. Grinning one of her own, she pursed her lips and reached for her drink, the sweet liquor pleasant on taste. 

    “Goddamn, Beatrice.” Now laughing more than coughing, he grinned and the two men watched her drink a bit more before placing the glass down. 

    “Y’all gon learn not to come for me. I’m feelin’ real unfriendly after all this surprising.” 

    “Well, if I were you, I’d give your man a big ole smooch cause he threw all this together for you, you ungrateful girl.” 

    “All of it?”

    “Course we brought in the people but everythin’ else, yeah. Charlie Parker and Dizzy agreed to play just for you.” A kiss to her temple and Mook was gone, smoke, sweat, and that sweet sweet new jazz playin’ real good in the place. 

    “Well then, guess I better thank you.” Voice now low and soft, she took another sip of her cocktail, already feeling warm. She’d chase it down with a couple of bites of her sandwich but first, she wanted to taste his drink. Not much caring about everyone else, she pressed flush against him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck. A kiss didn’t take long since they both wanted it and she hummed against his mouth, welcoming the press of his hands against her lower back. Breath heavy and warm, she pressed her nose against the side of his cheek. 

    “Thank you.” She whispered against his mouth and she couldn’t quite help the way her tongue darted out to take a little bit of vodka away from his lip. Eyes now intense, he lifted to grab her jaw, pulling her head upward. Without a word, he kissed her again, letting his tongue slide up against hers. Moaning softly into his mouth, she let him suck on the tip of her tongue before pulling away, a little bite on her bottom lip before completely letting go of her. Head spinning, she pulled the bitten appendage into her mouth before opening her eyes, setting them on him tossing back the rest of his vodka. 

    “Eat before you drink anything else.” His voice, deep and throaty spoke against the rim of his glass before placing it down on the bar top. Feeling that she should, she didn’t much complain or protest, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite out of it. 

 

*** 

 

 

    I tried to be a gentleman but goddamn. Beatrice always pushed me to the edge and it took everything in me not to fuck her senseless. Call me a piece of shit and I’d agree with no hesitation. If she dared to kiss me like that again, I’d say fuck it and fuck her all the way to hell, drunk or not. Not even God or the Devil would stop me from pulling her into the nearest empty space and having my way.

    The heat from the vodka blended nice and easy into my blood and it felt good to let it have its hold on me. It felt even better watching her enjoy herself. To say I was pleased was a vast understatement. Watching her smile and laugh, dance and shimmy filled my heart with overwhelming emotion. Places like this and times like this were meant for her. She deserved to be free and uninhibited all the time, allowed to just move and vibe, sing and dance as she wanted. 

    As I lifted my second vodka to drink, I watched as her dancing was interrupted by a man who too like I had been watching her. Placing the drink down quietly, I inhaled deeply through my nostrils. 

 

 

*** 

 

    “You alone, mama?” The gruff voice of the man asked and immediately, she grew sweaty.  He was tall and big and handsome too, dark satiny skin and dark eyes. The way he looked at her made her heart beat fast and her stomach grow queasy. Like a horny dog sniffing for his next meal. 

    “No, I’m with my man.”

    “I don’t see him ‘round. You too pretty to be alone. It’s not safe.”

    “Oh yeah?”

    “All these men in here lookin’ at you, I’d say it ain’t safe.” 

    “Men like you?” He smirked and took a step closer. 

    “I’m not a bad guy ya know. Jus’ seein’ somethin I like.”

    “Well, way I see it you can see all you want to. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He took another step forward and slid a hand down to her waist. 

    “Why don’t you share a dance with me, pretty girl.” 

    “I’m good thanks.” Taking his hand she tossed it away from her. 

    “Just one.”He persisted, hand now taking her arm. 

    “I said I’m good now don’t annoy me.” Teeth grinning, he lifted his hands up in surrender and took one step back, watching as she turned to push through the crowd of people.  

 

*** 

 

    She found him halfway and breathed a sigh of relief, lifting her hands to his chest. 

    “Something wrong?” He asked, taking her by the waist. 

    “Mm um, nothin’s wrong.” Eyes lifted up to see the man she’d been talking to sit down and smoke, welcoming the ass of some unknown woman on his lap. 

    “Dance with me, sugar.” Once again in his sight, she pulled on his hand and led him away from the middle of the dance floor, closer to the stage, closer to where the music was its sweetest. 

 

*** 

 

    Watching that bastard touch her infuriated me. The utter nerve to even fantasize about playing with something that wasn’t his pissed me off. Jealousy ripped through me; tore me open and I shook with visible rage. He still played with puppies, craving manhood so badly that he fucked anything that walked. I had been there. I understood what it felt like to feel less than a man. At some point, you needed to come to heel. You needed to mature. Get out of line and you needed to be reprimanded back into alignment. My eyes watched him slip out of the back with the woman who’d planted her ass on his lap earlier. I was up for some realignment. Being the man I was, I’d be good and goddamned if he sniffed what I called mine.

 

    *** 

 

 

    Dark fingers lifted a cigarette to his mouth and soon smoke blew out through his lips. His other hand was lowered and tangled within the hair of who he assumed was the woman from earlier, now on her knees, mouth and head bobbing on his cock. 

    “You got one of the best mouths Lilah…. fuckkk…” His own fingers tightened his grip on what he held, a beer bottle that he’d broken, jagged sharp edges ready to taste blood. 

    “When you done, go find that pretty yellow thing from earlier.” She hummed a response and soon stayed still as he held her head still, thrusting into her mouth. A loud gruff moan cut through the lulling saxophone and piano from inside and he grinned at the mess he’d made as she gasped in a breath, cum mixed saliva dribbling out of her mouth onto the ground. 

    “Start swallowing it. It’s either you swallow it or I shoot it inside you next time.”  Licking the corners of her mouth, she wordlessly got up and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. Turning, she opened the door to the back and slipped inside, leaving the two of them alone. Emerging from the dark, he cleared his throat and spit, getting his attention. 

    “Well, well what do we have here…”

    “Gotta smoke?”

    “For you, Tokyo? Nah.” He didn’t answer as the man took a drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke in his face just to spite him. 

    “That pretty Negro you with. She with you?”

    “She is.” Taking him in real good from his hair down to his shoes, the man smirked. 

    “Little Jap boy likes brown sugar. That’s uncommon.” Still, no response. The man finished his cigarette and dropped it, lifting his foot to snuff it out. 

    “How much do you want for a night with her?” His gaze darkened. 

    “What?”

    “I ain’t stutter, Tokyo. Name your price for her.” To his surprise he began to laugh, his expression dangerous and frigid. His grin sent a chill through the man.  

    “She’s not for sale.” 

    “That’s a shame. Figured she’d do well with a big black cock to break her in. It don’t surprise me you don’t know what to do with her, little man.” The muscle in his jaw flexed and his jaw clenched hard enough that a vein bulged in his temple. 

    “Only little boys brag about their size.” The man instantly bristled and pushed off the wall. 

    “The fuck you say?”

    “You’re trying to out-piss me and it’s funny as hell.” He took a step closer, eyes cutting into the immature piece of shit. 

    “It infuriates you that she’s with me but that’s okay, you’ll get over it.” His mouth snarled up and he blew out smoke, eyes narrowing on him. 

    “I came out here to tell you to leave her alone. Man to man.” 

    “Nip motherfucker, you’ve got some balls approaching me. You don’t know who I am do you?” 

    “I don’t give a fuck who you are.”  His hands shoved him and he let him.

    “I can make you disappear, boy.  You understand that?” He dropped the cigarette and snuffed it out. 

    “That pretty yellow bitch wouldn’t miss you much, not with my cock buried in her. She’d forget you even existed.” Grinning, the man spit near his feet. 

    “You’ll experiment, play with her pussy, and then go back to your own kind and brag about it. It’s dog fuckers like you that piss me off. Take your little eggroll with you back on your side of town, boy.”  He made the move to walk past him. Without a sound or word, he tightened his grip on the bottleneck and shoved the jagged edges up into his body, puncturing his clothes and into the skin of his stomach. The shock of the attack left him winded for about a second or two and warm wet blood dripped onto his fingers.  Bulging whites of eyes and a choked groan of pain erupted as he shoved him back into the brick wall. 

    “I’d let you think I disappeared but I’d always be watching and waiting.” He rasped roughly in between his teeth, a loud yell answering him as he impaled him with quick deep jabs. 

    “Hell would be heaven once I got to you.” Letting the bottle smash into the ground, he watched the man hunch over and weakly scream out. With chilling tranquility, he opened the door to the back, and quietly entered, blending in with the people as screams were heard from behind him. 

 

***

 

    I was far from a saint and I never would be. I knew what I was. I was a beast with skin and I was more than okay with that.  She saw my bloodied hands and took my face in her own, eyes searching me, asking, wondering. So pitifully in love, this animal would risk burning for eternity if only to feel her lips calm and quell the heat, fire, and rage from my brow. Gaining her answer, she swallowed thickly and pulled me out of the club, amidst the trombone, horn, and piano. 

    Calling for a cab, she quietly told me to put my hands in my pockets. I did so not because I was ashamed or guilty of what I’d done. I did so in hopes that yet again, should I be graced to touch her again, the blood would leave my hands, my heart, mind, eye, and soul and she’d fill me with her good and pure light. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Mannnn Ichiro Matsuda is not the oneeeeeee bro. He out here stabbing dudes in the alleyway for his woman. Sheeeeesh bruh lol. There's something delicious about the chemistry between him and Bea, I must truly confess. It's like a piece of good cake. lol. Our anti-hero hearing wedding bells hehehe. He  said give me Beatrice or give me nothing LOL. My favorite chapter this far to write hehe. 

There's some really inflammatory and ugly Anti-Asian rhetoric and terminology in here and for that I apologize, if it offends anyone. They do not reflect my personal views. Now that that disclaimer is clear, let's go to the next update shall we? 

DL~

にじゅうはち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

 

niijuu-hachi 

twenty-eight 

 

 

 

 

    The ride back to her mother’s house was quiet and tense. She turned her body away from him and he looked out of the window at the glittering pavement and night-covered yards and houses. When they finally reached her driveway, the cab driver glanced wearily into the mirror at the two of them, unexplainably dark energy crackling between them. 

    “Payment, sir.” The Asian man took his eyes off of the woman and moved them to his. Feeling sweat bead up on the back of his neck, he watched as the man reached into his pockets, pulling out a wallet, hands stained with blood. Almost too calmly, he handed him more than the ride was worth and got out, opening the door for the lady. Gas and tires screeched away from them, leaving them once more in silence. She reached up to remove her hat and began to talk up the dark pathway to the front door. 

    “You’re upset.” Turning, she found him much closer than she expected, hands hanging down by his sides. 

    “Upset isn’t the right word.” She replied, reaching into her purse for the key. 

    “Then, what is the right word?” Exhaling as she felt his arms come around her, her hands slackened against her purse. 

    “You didn’t have to kill him.”

    “I didn’t kill him.”

    “You don’t know that. He could be dead by now.” 

    “If you’re expecting me to apologize for what happened, don’t. I won’t.” Turning to face him, she gripped her hat tightly in her hands. 

    “What’s the difference, Bea?”

    “What?”

    “When I cut off Doctor Nakakawa’s earlobe, you didn’t react like this. Some stranger in a club and now you’re pissed. What’s the difference?” She opened her mouth to respond but found no words. 

    “You know what kind of man I am. What I’m capable of.” 

    “Yeah but…”

    “I won’t change just because you and I love each other.” Jaw tight, she let him pull her close, his mouth now against her jaw. 

    “I’m liable to do a lot of things you’re not going to like because I’m in love with you.”

    “So if some man tomorrow decides to look at me you’re gonna stab him?” 

    “No. If he tries to come on to you and disrespects you, I will stab him.” Releasing a short exhale, she rolled her eyes. 

    “You’re impossible.”

    “You know that already.” Kiss against her bone. 

    “Violent and mean.”

    “You know that too.” Another kiss there a little lower against the underside of her chin. 

    “Ichiro, for God’s sake… please.” Lifting his eyes upward, he sighed against her. 

    “I’m drunk, I want to fuck the living shit out of you and he pissed me off. What do you want from me?” He exclaimed roughly, letting go of her. Cheeks even in the dark of night he could see had grown red, her mouth gaped open. 

    “I’m trying, Bea. I’m trying to be a saint but fuck it, I’m never going to be a good and proper man.”  

    “I haven’t asked you to be anythin’ other than who you are.” She shot back, arms crossed. 

    “I was myself tonight and you’re now bitching at me.”

    “Well, that’s because you stabbed a man in an alleyway, Ichiro! All he did was ask for a dance.”

    “He touched your waist. Don’t forget that part.”

    “Okay, he touched my waist. Who the hell cares?”

    “I didn’t like the way he talked about you. Didn’t like the way he looked at you.” 

    “He’s a man, just like you.”

    “He’s not your boyfriend.” Rolling her eyes, she pursed her lips up. 

    “All a man can do is look, Ichiro.”

    “Not without eyes, he can’t.” 

    “Ya know, you and your wounded male ego are getting the hell on my nerves. You just can’t help yourself can you?”

    “Bea baby? That you?” The sound of her mother cut through their argument and she cleared her throat, lifting a hand to push him back a bit from her. 

    “Yeah, Momma. I’m… I’m comin’.”

    “Will out there with you?”

    “Yes ma’am. I’m about to leave shortly.” He answered, eyes not once having left hers. 

    “Come in when you are ready.” 

    “Yes ma’am.” They both replied and soon it was quiet again. 

    “Come on over here and sit down.” Pulling him by his shirt sleeve, they went over to a porch swing and sat. With a stressed exhale, he sat back and leaned his head back, swallowing so hard she saw his Adam’s apple bob sharply. Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened them to turn them to look at her. 

    “Bea baby…your mother calls you that.” It wasn’t a question but stated as an observation. 

    “Yeah, she does.” His lips smiled a little bit. 

    “Okaasan called me Ikki.” 

    “Ikki?”

    “Mmhm.” Swallowing, she moved to lay down against his lap, bringing her legs and knees up. 

    “Listen. I’m territorial over you and I won’t apologize for it. You’re lucky I don’t mark you with pee.” 

    “You’re disgusting.” Full out grinning, he glanced down at her. 

    “My ego is far from wounded. An immature little fuck like that does not raise concern on my part.” His voice was hushed and she opened her eyes to look up at him. 

    “Anyone who disrespects you disrespects me and I have an issue with that. I’m allowed that much.” There she went, blushing again and the color was lovely. 

    “Maybe I was out of line tonight…maybe I could have handled it a different way. But, I didn’t.” She watched as he lifted his arm up across the back of the swing, his fingers and palm now brown from dried blood.

    “On the battlefield, I was able to release the tension, the anger, the frustration… whatever I was feeling. It was easily quelled with a bullet or a bayonet. I don’t know how to navigate this civilian world. It’s strange.” Now she understood the underlining motive for his behavior. She was proud of him, knowing that he wasn’t great with words or expressing himself verbally. She could tell that he was really trying. 

    “I haven’t been able to… put it to rest. Any of it.” His mother and grandmother’s death. The end of the war.   The horrors he’d seen and the things he’d done.

    “Me neither.” She replied honestly, giving him an encouraging smile. 

    “Sometimes, I wake up thinking I’m still in the female barracks with Ruby. Others, I dream of being put into Unit 100.” Her eyes left him and fell to his hands. 

    “We’ve survived the worst time of our lives and yet nobody showed us how to move on, how to live on, or how to let go.” She’d hit the nail on the top of the head because he gave her a single nod in agreement. 

    “We’re gonna have to figure it out together, sugar.” 

    “I’d… like that.” She turned her body towards him and snuggled up against his lap, glad that his arm came down and covered her. 

    “Don’t stab anybody else… please.” 

    “…I’ll try.” 

 

 

*** 

 

    They’d sat out on the porch for a long while and she finally opened the door and allowed him inside. Taking him upstairs, she washed his hands, watching the blood trickle down into the sink. Leaving him, she’d gone into her room and changed into her night clothes. Coming out, she found him standing by her door, feet bare and shirtless in the hallway. 

    “I ruined your birthday.” He said quietly, lifting clean hands and nails now to rustle his hair now free of gel. Messy bangs framed his forehead and the cutest little pout poked out his bottom lip. Dear God in Heaven how was this the same man who not even three hours ago nearly killed someone? 

    “No cake, no candles, no lavish dinner this time. Just booze, jazz, dancin’, and blood.” She said with a small grin. Stepping into the hallway, she pressed her face against a firm pectoral. Lifting her head, she poked out her lips. 

    “Maybe you did mess up my birthday. But there’s one way you can make it right.” He let his fingers glide across her now uncovered curls, their soft thickness pleasant. Taking her by the back of the neck, he leaned down and kissed her, real nice and gentle which surprised her. Gliding fingers down from his pectoral, she allowed her fingers to touch and roam him, feeling the satiny skin of his ribcage. Further down, fingertips were light as they breezed across taut and well-defined abdominal muscles. As her touch increased, so their kisses deepened and she hummed against his mouth, welcoming a single squeeze of her derriere. Lips separating, his hands let go of her bottom, palms now pressing flat against it. 

    “Goodnight, Bea.” 

    “Goodnight, Ikki.” His cheeks grew flush with color and he appeared slightly embarrassed. Hands sliding away from her, he turned away from her, going into one of the guest rooms her Momma must have prepared for him earlier that day. At the soft click of the door being closed, she nibbled on her lip, turning to freeze. Her momma stood there in her housecoat and bed scarf and her icy eyes cut into her. 

    “M-Momma…” 

    “That boy wanted to have his way with you tonight in my house.” Cheeks warm, she lifted a hand to her neck. 

    “But he didn’t…” Her mother uncrossed her arms. 

    “Seems you and him have real deep history.” 

    “Yes ma’am.” With a sigh, her mother pursed her lips. 

    “Gon to bed now Bea baby.”

    “Yes ma’am.”

    “And happy birthday again.” Welcoming a kiss on her forehead, she entered her bedroom and closed the door. 

 

 

*** 

 

    I stayed with Beatrice and her mother for another two days before my departure. I’d gotten to see some of their favorite parts of the city and though the whole time her mother had a sour look on her face, I enjoyed the time with them. We stayed away from the South Side, to Bea’s relief. I got to witness her and her mother in their everyday happenings, starting from cooking American breakfast together to taking me along to a grocery store. It was humbling to see how resilient and strong the Negro race was. Like the hardy lotus, they made wherever they dwelled beautiful, be it in dirt, mud, or shit.  A part of me didn’t want to leave but I had to return for one last imperial assignment. 

 

 

***

 

 

    She didn’t look too happy as he packed his suitcase into the trunk. Oft in the distance, her mother sat on the porch, keeping a watchful and stern eye on them. 

    “When’s the next time I’ll see you?”

    “November.”

    “Hm.” Her pout diffused now and she accepted his answer with a nod. 

    “I’ll fly here to Chicago and then we can make another flight.”

    “Where to?” She asked uncrossing her arms. 

    “Alabama.” Disbelief smacked her across the face and she knit her eyebrows together. 

    “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

    “I told you I want to see where you were born.” Pursing her lips once more, she shook her head. 

    “So once you see where I was born, then what?” 

    “We fly to California and spend the end of the year together.”

    “That’s a whole lot of flying. Which means a whole lot of money.”

    “Don’t concern yourself with that.” 

    “Hm.” 

    “Leave it alone, Bea.”

    “Fine.”

    “Give me a hug.”

    “There you go ordering me around.” Grinning, he slipped hands into his pockets, waiting until she begrudgingly walked into his chest. 

    “I’ll write.”

    “Yeah yeah yeah.” Biting her lips in a smile, she sighed against him and enjoyed his warmth. 

    “I love you.” He whispered against the top of her head. He’d only said it once before and it seemed so long ago. Hearing it a second time made her heart skip a beat. 

    “Love you too, Papa.” Her voice was soft and tender. Kissing her sweetly, he pressed another against her cheek and let her go, feeling her mother’s eyes cutting into him. 

    “Call me when you make it home.”

    “I will.” Smiling at her, he got into the cab and watched her wave in the rearview mirror until even she faded out of sight. 

 

*** 

 

    In those three months, my uniform, which once felt so familiar and safe, now felt constricting. I wore it with honor and with pride, yes, but Beatrice made me want to cast it aside for civilian comfort. I didn’t know what it meant to be a civilian and frankly, neither did she. I wanted to learn what that was like…together. I’d sat in on several talks between the United States and Japan, translated several transcripts, and even spoken on the Emperor’s behalf at several post-treaty events. I hoped that what I was doing was truly helping shape our countries into a new era… a more peaceful era. I no longer wanted to hold a weapon, no longer wanted to fight. No, I now wanted a simple life… wanted a life with Beatrice free from war, pain, or memories of the past. 

    When we met in Chicago in November of ’47, the cold chilled my bones. Rivaling the cold  I’d felt in the USSR, a shiver shook me and she lifted a winter hat, a hat it appeared she’d made for me. Removing my military cap, she placed the warm hat on my head with a small smile. A smile I returned. 

 

*** 

 

    The heat had flushed his skin pink and beads of sweat had gathered and dripped down his temple and the back of his neck. Beatrice hadn’t been lying. It was hotter than hell down here. Glad he’d taken her advice and dressed light, he reached out to pull her hand, bringing her to a stop. He could feel her anxiety and brushed his thumb against the back of her hand in an attempt to settle it. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled and exhaled. 

    “Let’s go.” Entwining his fingers with her gloved ones, they continued down the trek of country road. She was dressed in a fine cream dress, a gorgeous lace pattern adorning the whole of it from the chest to the bottom of her skirt. A matching belt in the same pattern circled her tiny waist and on her hands, she wore a grey-silver pair of gloves, length to about her forearm. 

    On her head, she wore a matching hat of the same color. Cream heels on her feet and hose on those shapely little legs as was appropriate. She was simply beautiful to behold and he didn’t conceal his staring as they walked. He wore a light daffodil shirt, sleeves pulled up to his elbows. A pair of brown leather suspenders and light brown tweed trousers. On his head, he wore a grey newsboy cap. 

    “When we were run out of this town, we ain’t have nothin’ but the clothes on our backs. No money. No belongings. Not even a car.” She spoke, her voice sending chills down his spine. 

    “We ran down this very road as the Klan hunted us. Ran down this road screaming and crying as their dogs came after us.” Taking a shaky breath, she took in the thick forest lining the road, the threadbare road free of persons or vehicles. 

    “We ran until our feet bled. Finally, the dogs were far enough away, having been called back to their masters. They stopped following us with their torches and guns. They shouted one thing to us as we kept running. ‘Come back here Niggers and we’ll skin you alive.’ For a long time, we believed them… scared to even consider coming back. We didn’t want to come back.” 

    “Bea,”

    “You get to see me as I am behind the dress, glitz and glamour. Just a lil nigger born in Huntsville.” He’d heard it enough by now. The racial slur hurled at the Negroes in LA, mostly from the whites but sometimes from people who looked like him. It didn’t sit right with him. Where once he would have been that son of a bitch joining in, now it disgusted him. Who were they to side with the whites when they called them chinks, dog-eaters, and fish-heads? 

    Being in America had only confirmed that he’d been wrong… everything he’d ever thought about blacks was wrong. Beatrice was the first to show him… she was the first to teach him that they weren’t animals that took up too much space or air on the planet. No, she was just like him, her people like his own who battled what he was observing as white supremacy.  

    Making her stop again, he forced her to turn around to face him, his hands now gripping her arms. 

    “Stop it.” Eyes firm, he loosened his grip on her arms and drifted them down to grasp her hands. Eyes grown teary, she remained quiet as he spoke again, his voice firm with conviction. 

    “I see a survivor. I see a warrior….a strong, intelligent, and beautiful woman.” She lifted her hands now to grip his wrists. 

    “Those white motherfuckers fear you. They know the greatness in you and that is why they go to such lengths to repress it and make you fear them.” Forehead now against hers, his words, heat, and breath breezed hot against her mouth. 

    “Don’t refer to yourself like that ever again. Do you understand?” Taking a shaky breath, she gave a little nod. Satisfied, he let go of her, expression now vehement. Their walk continued and in the middle of the afternoon, birdsong captured their ears. It was chilling to think that such a peaceful place was once a horror scene.  

    Soon they came up to a slight fork in the road and he noticed her hand started to tremble. Grasping tightly to it, he pulled her forward. Trees lined each side of the road and as far back as the eye could see. It was eerie here, a thick and deafening silence where once birds chatted. Feeling goosebumps rise on his skin, he took in a house up ahead. Part of the house had been burned but what remained was a partial roof, chimney, and window. 

    The closer they grew to it, the deeper her breaths got. She let out a whimper and ripped her hand away from him, her eyes filling with tears. Lifting her hands, she covered her face and knelt there by a tree, full of leaves. They lynched my daddy. Took him and hung him up from the tree in our front yard. 

    She let out a wail of anguish, eyes now staring blankly on the tree in front of her. 

    “Daddy……” She wept, growing still as he slowly knelt beside her. It was as if he suddenly saw through her eyes, a tall burly man hanging in front of them, his trousers torn to pieces, hands tied behind his back, eyes empty and half-lidded. His mouth gaped open as if he’d tried to take one last breath. There on his legs, streams of blood painted his rich brown skin red, a white hand holding a knife coming to cut his penis off, a gush of blood spurting onto the ground as his testicles went next.

     The sound of the rope brushing against the tree with the wind and his large bare feet swinging in the breeze made him want to vomit. There by the front door, his wife held their children, Beatrice and Joe and they all wept, sounds of sorrow clear in his ear.  

    “Bea,” Though he made no sound, tears now fell down his own cheeks and he wrapped arms around her. 

    “Beatrice.” He called again, the sound of her grief and agony split his heart in two. Lifting her face, he turned her gaze away from the shadows, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. 

    “Look at me. Look at me, sweetheart.” She struggled, mouth sucking in wet breaths, eyes still blinded by tears. 

    “I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry for what happened to you… to your family.” She gathered her breath, her lips trembling now. 

    “I asked you to come here and I shouldn’t have.” 

    “No,” She answered shakily, taking another breath. 

    “I… I needed this. I needed the closure.” Sniffing, she exhaled as he wiped more of her tears. 

    “I might never have gotten it if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.” Lifting her arms, she pulled him into a hug, breath warm and soft against his neck. 

    “I’m what his wildest dreams are made of. He’d be so proud of me.” 

    “He would.” He agreed, his lips pressing little pecks against her temple and to her cheek. Withdrawing from their hug, she watched in silence as he moved his body into a deep bow, face pressed against his hands. Heart pounding, she pat her cheeks dry and balled her lips as he slowly came up to rest his buttocks on the top of his feet. 

    “Your family didn’t end here.” He said quietly, turning to look at her. She blinked at his statement. 

    “It was just reborn.” Taking his hand, she firmly grasped it. 

    “Maybe you’re right.” Leaning to lay her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and began to hum a tune. Her daddy’s favorite. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: This chapter was powerful to me. Bea and Ichiro have their demons, their past that they haven't sorted out yet. What I love that is that Bea tells him that nobody told them or showed them how to be a cilivian again. I imagine that's what it was like for returning veterans/survivors on both sides. How hard it was to reacclimate into ordinary cilivian life. After a while, when all you know is firing a weapon, fighting and even killing, to just... suddenly stop must be crippling. Confusing. Insanity. 

 

Ichiro is a man who doesn't know how to express himself well emotionally and verbally, if you haven't already noticed lol. Physical touch is his best shot because it's tangible. It's his love language... well one of them anyway hehe. I am proud of him though because he's becoming more and more verbal as time passes... even though it makes him uncomfortable. Opening up to Beatrice still makes him uncomfortable but he relishes and craves the emotional connection. 

*whispers* I love him...he's violent and slightly deranged that's really just extremely misunderstood and hasn't been taught how to properly socialize and integrate into society. lol. We love that LMBO. 

Their time in Alabama did me in. Him providing and reciprocating emotional support and genuine empathy towards Beatrice is A HUGE I MEAN MAJOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT from earlier in the story. WAY TO GO ICHI-BO. WOW. 

Kay, I got one more chapter for you hehe 

DL~

 

Pictures: 

Bea's dress: 

THIS RIGHT HERE IS A WHOLE ENTIRE LOOK. OMG SHE A WHOLE BADDIE BAD.

Ichiro's look:

にじゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

niijuu-kyuu

twenty-nine 


 

 

 

    A hand helped a woman from a sleek black car. Gently, it placed the woman’s smaller one on his arm. Up marble stairs, doors were pulled open, and bright light and glass twinkled up above them. Out of all the couples to make their arrival, they were the most peculiar. Eyes took in the tall strapping man in a Japanese military uniform, his hands in pristine white gloves and a matching white plume sticking out of his cap. His arm piece shocked them most of all. Dressed in a form-fitting black velvet dress, a sheer overlay swished against the floor, leaving nothing about her petite hourglass figure to the imagination. On her arms, she wore a snow-white shadow blue fox beret and matching oversized fur stole, the tails of the fox draping delicately against her frame. 

    Whispers surrounded them as they entered the grand ballroom and an obvious hush fell across the invitees as a butler removed her stole and took her beret. Tawny skin was abundant and her cleavage was ample yet tasteful thanks to the cut of the neckline. 

    “She’s pretty for a nigger. I’ll give her that.”

    “Wasn’t she the one who performed for the President in May?”

    “I think so.” Her hair was pulled back from her forehead and pinned, a large puffy bouffant towards the bottom gave her an incredible shape and it was oh-so-classy. 

    “What’s the Jap’s name again?”

    “Matsuda I think.” Said man removed his over-the-top military hat and once more offered her his arm to which she accepted. Eyes glued to their forms as they took seats, near the President’s entourage. Lips pinched and pursed as the man leaned in to whisper something to the woman. Soft soothing strings played and light laughter and clink of glasses spread throughout the space. 

    “If I may have your attention, please.” The voice of the 33rd President captured everyone’s attention and all chatter soon ceased. 

    “Tonight is a special evening for a member of our audience. He has greatly impressed us as an envoy and ambassador of Japan.” At that, eyes once more turned to him, who appeared unbothered as he lifted a stout whiskey to his mouth. 

    “He has made great strides towards the peace of our respective nations and I sincerely hope that he will remain as a dear friend of the United States.” Grey-blue eyes singled him out and so did the eyes of his cabinet. 

    “Let’s give First Lieutenant Ichiro Matsuda a round of applause.” Almost robotically, the guests began to clap and he, well he remained sitting, lifting a glass of water to his mouth to drink. 

    “Something else special about tonight is that it is his birthday.” Surprised and some delighted gasps echoed in the atmosphere. 

    “How old are you turning Matsuda?” 

    “Twenty-eight, sir.” 

    “Wow. Handsome fellow at 28, huh?” His attempts were strained and awkward at best but he simply shrugged. For his efforts, he managed a grin. 

    “Will the lovely Ms. Jones entertain us again tonight?” Put on the spot, she felt her neck grow hot. Everybody in the room looked at her and she felt her palms sweat. 

    “You don’t if you don’t want to,” He said lowly under his breath, taking another drink of his water. 

    “No… it’s all right. I’ll sing.” Slowly, she began to stand and a round of applause started up. Taking a light hand, she laid it on his shoulder and leaned down to whisper into his ear. 

    “For you only,” Pulling away, she began to head towards a prepared microphone, man sitting at the piano already. The instrumentalists all gathered their respective musical objects, waiting. 

    “Good evening Mr. President. I’m honored to be before you once again.” He lifted his glass of champagne. 

    “Thank you First Lieutenant Matsuda for being friends with us and having a grand time here.” He didn’t move nor did he look anywhere else, his gaze all hers. 

    “I’ll sing what’s on my heart if that’s all right.” Turning to the band, she spoke so softly that you could barely hear her. Turning towards the crowd once more, piano and soft drums began to play. 

    The very thought of you and I forget to do. The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do. I'm living in a kind of daydream. I’m happy as a king. And foolish though it may seem. To me that's everything…” 

    “She’s singing Billie.”

    “Figures.”

    “What you think they got goin’ on? They awfully hugged up.”

    “Jap havin’ his fun ‘fore he go back home. That’s all.” The chatter behind and off to the side of her she heard clearly and it ignited a fire inside her chest. Closing her eyes, she let the music have its way and when she opened her mouth again, her voice was much clearer, much stronger. 

    “The mere idea of you, the longing here for you. You’ll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you. I see your face in every flower. Your eyes in stars above. It’s just the thought of you. The very thought of you, my love…” Now a lone horn played on and she had begun to swing her hips to and fro, swallowing down the last bit of nervousness, opening her eyes to settle on his. Moving nice and sweet, she wet her lips and sang the last verse over again, makin’ sure sweet Alabama twang was all throughout. 

    Eyes having closed, she closed out all of the applause and cheers, opening her eyes to seek him. He sat back in his chair and slowly, lifted his hands to join the applause. Bowing her head, she offered a smile and did a little curtsey. On her way back to her seat, she stopped a waiter. Lifting the offered drink, she tossed it back nice and easy, the burn of the alcohol pleasant and smooth on its way down her throat. 

 

*** 

 

    The words of the song ignited a deep burning fire inside of me. Her eyes as they made contact with mine, the way her fingers slipped down the slim microphone stand, the way her alluring hips swayed to the music. I’d already been nursing a semi-erect stiffy but her little performance caused more and more blood to gather inside my pants. It didn’t matter what the pinched lip bastards said to gain my attention or how they tried to engage me, my focus was strictly on the woman now across the room. If I had more time, I’d make things go much slower. But then, I didn’t have a problem with things speeding up. After all, we’d been taking things slow. Some would say too slow. Perhaps a little up-tempo couldn’t hurt. 

 

*** 

 

    Conversational, light jazz strummed and it was saccharine to the ear. Watching her lift her fourth drink to her mouth, he took a sip of his third. 

    “What are your plans when you return to Japan, Matsuda?” Annoyance lit up his gaze now, having been distracted from his observation. 

    “Matsuda?”

    “Marry. Settle down.” He replied noncommittally, eyes flickering back towards his little dime. 

    “Makes sense. It’s time.”

    “Think so?”

    “Well yeah. You’re a tough son of a bitch and handsome for a Jap. Any girl’d be lucky to have you.” He left the comment unanswered, the taste of warm grain and burn of the Stoli making his eyes slightly water on the way down.  

    “Strong shit, huh? Guess we got those commies to thank for their good vodka.” 

    “So, what’s up with that Negro girl, huh? You like her?” Eyes slid across to the speaker, some turkey-necked son of a bitch with a red face and grinning teeth. 

    “She’s awfully pretty. Built like a wet dream.” 

    “I’m used to fat ugly ones. The ones that clean my house. But that one right there?” A sharp whistle pierced the air. 

    “Every man in here, President himself, wouldn’t mind having a night with her.” He took off his hat and laid it beside him on the table. To their surprise, he began to laugh and safe to say the sound of it was not humorous. Rather, it disturbed them. 

    “This is why you’ll have nothing but wet dreams.”

    “What’re you talking about, boy?”

    “Excuse me.” Slowly standing, he gathered his hat and with a slight bow of his head, turned on his heel. Bastards. Their approach was all wrong. With a woman like Beatrice, you had to do the right things at the right time. She was no fool and she wouldn’t entertain indiscretion. With a woman like his, you had to cross your T’s and dot your I’s. 

    At a clearing of the throat, the conversation between them stopped. The President looked awfully upset though he tried to hide it. With his wife but a hair’s length away, there was no doubt that her eyes and ears had been on them too. 

    “First Lieutenant Matsuda,” Both of them eyed the woman who was more than intoxicated, swaying slightly on her feet. In her stupor, she’d started to press herself closer against him. 

    “It’s time to go.” He said to her, receiving a pout. 

    “I’m enjoyin’ the music and evry’thang. Can’t we stay a lil’ longer?” 

    “I was just about to ask Ms. Jones for a dance.” Too bad you horny fuck. 

    “It’s late and she’s clearly inebriated. I should return her home.” 

    “I’m not ee-nee-breeated…” She drawled, pout growing deeper. 

    “Sir, allow me to thank you for the evening tonight. You’ve honored me well and I’m deeply humbled.” 

    “I see why he sent you. You’ve got balls of steel, Matsuda. It’s a pity you weren’t on the American side.” 

    “Thank you, sir.”

    “Well, go and take our lovely little lady home.” 

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Stay in touch, here?”

    “Of course, sir.” 

    “Good.” Clapping him on the back, he headed back towards his wife who sat with lips pinched and white. 

    “Let’s go.” Now lifting a hand, he beckoned the waiter to gather their belongings. Placing her hand on his arm, he slowly escorted her towards the door, feeling even more eyes on them now. Slowly, he draped the fur around her shoulders. She took her beret and placed it on her head with a huff. 

 

*** 

 

    It seemed we always expressed ourselves best with the help of booze. Things she or I wouldn’t normally say came easy. Like a liquid hug, it both comforted and emboldened us the same. Seems this was our routine, our thing. Our way of letting free the word vomit trapped in our throats during sobriety. Course, Beatrice never could hold her alcohol well. It didn’t take much for her to get shit-faced and even now, looking back on it I still find it cute.

     We made it back to the apartment I’d been renting and once inside, I shut the door behind us. Watching her toss her purse on the couch and wobble towards the bedroom, all kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head. Were I the man from 1939… 1940 even… I’d have taken advantage of the situation. But, the man from 1947, the twenty-eight-year-old Ichiro Matsuda decided to give it a different try on this night. 

 

*** 

 

    He stood by the doorway, lifting a cigarette to his mouth. The strike of the match crackled perfectly with the lush black velvet that trickled down to the ground, heeled toes stepping out of it. As he watched intensely, she reached to her side and unzipped her black shaper. Unclipping the garters attached to her hose, she shimmied out of that and her fingers pulled apart the many pins holding her hair in that elegant shape. Strands tumbled down her back at once and now in just her sheer black stockings, brassiere and underwear, she fell against the bed with a loud exaggerated sigh. He pushed off from the door and entered the room, unbuttoning his uniform coat. Untying the knot to his red and white sash, he folded it neatly in halves and placed it on the table. Lifting his eyes, he now found her sitting up, her gaze sultry and inviting. 

    “I see why you pulled me ‘way from the party now.” She spoke, glued to the fingers that unbuttoned his base shirt. 

    “Why did I?” He asked, deciding to humor himself with her. Pursing her lips, she couldn’t hide the tooth that sank into her bottom lip the moment the shirt was pulled away, revealing gorgeous fawn beige skin. She didn’t answer right away, lifting to extend her leg outward towards him. Smirking, he acquiesced her silent request and neared her, grabbing hold of her calve. Placing the flat of the heel on his chest, he lowered his fingers to unclasp and loosen the straps that bound her tiny ankle. Taking the shoe, he let it drop to the ground and repeat the action with her other leg, her sigh of relief her thanks. 

    “You haven’t answered my question, Beatrice.” Pulling back her leg, she bent it at the knee and gently pushed him back with her foot. His eyes drifted down at her foot, her cute little toes freshly painted with a startling shade of red. She didn’t say a word yet, those tickling little appendages gliding down his stomach. Reaching the very visual sign of his arousal, she lightly brushed the outline with the tips of her toes. 

    “You got me all to your lonesome now, sugar.” Her voice was a soft lilting drawl, the alcohol bringing out every ounce of her Southern roots. Her next words took a hammer and chipped away at his self-control. Those fucking eyes of hers looked up at him, already speaking well what her mouth released.  

    “Fuck me.” His hand reached down and gripped her foot, yanking it up and forward, pulling her to the edge of the bed. The action took her breath and his lips didn’t give her any chance to catch it as they smashed roughly against hers. Leaning down now slightly, he let her wrap those shapely little legs around his hips, her arms now encircling his neck. Taking her by the throat, he forced their mouths apart. 

    “You don’t want me to do that.” He rasped against her panting lips. 

    “Yes, I do.” Her voice now a mere whisper, it chipped away at him some more and he inhaled through flared nostrils. 

    “You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly, Beatrice.” 

    “So what I’m drunk…” She whined, pouting as he removed her legs from his person. 

    “You don’t understand what you’re requesting.” Back at the table now, he reached into his cigarette case and pulled out another one, the previous one forgotten, fire extinguished. Striking the match, he closed his eyes and inhaled the nicotine. 

    “Yea’ I do.” Getting up, she wobbled towards him and clumsily pressed her body against his. 

    “I want you and that big sausage of yours to make me feel good, daddy. I’m ready to be real friendly with it.” Turning slowly, his gaze bore down into her and he blew out cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth. 

    “You wouldn’t remember any of it.” Taking her by the arm, he lightly pushed her back against the bed. Inhaling more nicotine, he exhaled slowly. 

    “I want you coherent and sober. I want you to remember everything.” 

    “Ichiro,”

    “There’s no appeal in fucking you while drunk.” Leaning down, he pressed his face against her hair. 

    “Go to sleep. Sober up. We’ll discuss this again.” Kissing her temple, he withdrew from her completely, leaving her burning from rejection and alcohol-induced sweat. 

 

*** 

 

    It took everything in me that night not to do it anyway. My cock was so fucking hard it literally hurt and when I stroked it later in the shower, I hissed from the pain. I meant every word of it. The fantasies of intoxicated sex now had subsided and more than anything, I wanted her to be alert and cognizant… I wanted the pleasure to be real, organic, and potent, not induced or sustained by booze. When I came inside of her, I wanted her to remember how full I made her. 

    Sex and I had always had a strange relationship. The pleasure of a woman had never been a high priority nor necessity really. Selfish and self-seeking, it had always been about my satisfaction only. Influenced by the cultural mores of the time, I viewed women as nothing more than objects to be used to satisfy myself or for the purpose of offspring.  

    But, my views were changing. I was changing. I wanted to show Beatrice and myself that I wasn’t like the dirty fuck that had raped her. I wanted her to know that she was important, valued and most of all, I wanted her to know that she deserved to be put first. 

    When she woke up the next morning, I’d done it and heart pounding, I couldn’t stop the tiniest shred of fear from slicing me in the stomach. 

 

*** 

 

    The smell of coffee woke her up first. Groaning, she weakly lifted her arm only to let it plop back down onto the bed. Her head hurt like a bitch. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted her head, mouth parched. 

    “Ichiro?” She asked groggily, eyes still shut. 

    “Hm?” His voice vocalized and she groaned again, managing to pull herself up into a sit. 

    “My head hurts so bad…” The sound of drink-ware clinking against wood sounded and a chair scooted back. 

    “Take these.” His voice was suddenly so much closer and much louder than before, making her wince. 

    “It’s two aspirin.” He continued, voice now much softer and quieter to her relief. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked up to see a glass of water and two aspirin in an outstretched palm. Reaching for them and the water, she quickly took the medication and finished the glass of water. 

    “You need to eat something.”

    “What time is it?”

    “Nine o’clock.” 

    “Hm.” 

    “I held off on breakfast until you woke up.” 

    “‘kay.” Watery eyes watched him head back to the table, prosthesis off and using a cane. Quietly, he sat back down and resumed the drinking of his coffee. 

    “Put something on, Bea.” At that, she glanced down to see that she was still in her brassiere and underwear. Embarrassment flushed her and she frantically reached for her housecoat. 

    “When did I go to sleep in my undergarments?” She whined, tying the robe closed. A simple shrug from him made her lips purse. Hair messy and disheveled, she frowned as she got out of bed, bare feet now inching closer to him. 

    “How is it you look so put together?” Smirking, teasing monolid eyes glanced up at her from over the rim of his mug. 

    “I can hold my liquor. You can’t.”

    “That’s not nice.”

    “Truth hurts, sweetheart.” Grumbling, she sat with a pout. 

    “Tell me what you want to eat. Bread I assume.”

    “All the bread that’s available. Hotcakes, biscuits, toast, jam, lots of fruit and eggs, scrambled.” He chuckled at her long list of requests and got up to order. Head in her hands, she stayed still until the door rang. 

    “Go on,” Lifting, to see him drinking a fresh cup of coffee, she scowled. 

    “You’re a tall order you know that. I’m hungover and you makin’ me get my own breakfast.” The corners of his mouth curled up but he said nothing as she got up protesting the whole way. Taking the tray, she turned. 

    “Next time you get drunk see what I-” She suddenly went quiet and he heard the tray being placed down. The rustle of paper told him she saw it and his heart began to pound against his chest. 

    “What is this?”

    “What does it look like?” Eyes finding the paper, she read aloud the neatly written sentence. 

    “Marry me, you idiot.” Still, he said not a peep, eyes cutting over to hers. 

    “Who is the idiot. You or me?” 

    “You sound upset.”

    “You called me an idiot.”

    “Would you prefer ‘woman that can’t hold her liquor’?” 

    “No!”

    “Then, idiot suffices.” Her expression made him crack and he began to laugh, gut-wrenching laughter that softened his mouth. Sucking her teeth, she glanced down at the ring he’d placed by the paper. Cheeks warm, she gingerly picked it up. A sparkly lil’ thing, it looked like a small rose, the diamonds arranged in gold petal molding.  Just enough sparkle to make heifas jealous but not too much to make her uncomfortable. 

    “It’s not funny, Ichiro.” Retrieving her tray, she came back to the table and put it down, dramatically she’d add. 

    “It is funny….as a-all hell…” He managed, laughter still clutching his chest and throat. 

    “You’re so mean to me. Seriously, only a woman like me would put up with you and your antics.” Grinning now, he lifted a hand to wipe the tears that had formed at the corner of his eyes. She kept that adorable purse on her lips as she lifted the top off of the tray. Watching her cut into her hotcakes and drizzle syrup and butter, the light caught his ring sitting pretty on her finger. She ate silently, eyes glaring at him. 

    “So… I take it you’ve said yes, then.” Sticking out her tongue, she chose not to answer and continued to eat. Bringing his mug of coffee to his mouth, he winked at her, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks. 

 

End Notes:

 

A/N: TALK ABOUT CALIENTE. THIS IS PIPING HOT. whew. Bea gon play with this man one too many times enough that he gon go off the deep end. My favorite part of this chapter is the end lol. The way he proposed to her was just... so him LOL. Not sappy, sweet or even romantic. Kinda rude, BIG on the awkward and VERY funny... 

Buttttt she put the ring on thoughhhhh lol. So, looks like she said yes lol. It's been 6 years since they met each other in the Oriental Pearl club in Shanghai. 4 since they were reunited at Mukden. They've been working on this thing for a good solid three years now give or take. '45 was only a couple months really LOL. They have a ways to go but they feel like they want to take the next step. Grow through it together. Learn through it together. I feel good leaving it here for now hehe. 

I will be starting to study for my PCTB soon so I may not be writing and or updating as frequently in the near future hehe. Just a heads up. 

Thank you for reading hehe. I'll see y'all next week!

*OH and before I get comments like omg you said sausage? really, sausage? etc.  yes I did write sausage lol. Deal. It's historically accurate lol.*

DL~

 

LET'S GET INTO THESE PICTURES BOYYYYYYY 

Beatrice aka Ms. Jones if you nasty's mood for the evening: 

(in white) 

Hair:

Lingerie when she was tryna highkey seduce Mr. Matsuda: 

 

Her ring: 

 

 

 

 

さんじゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjuu 


thirty 

 

 

1948 

Mid- January 

Kurashiki, Japan 

 

 

    The crunch of snow filled the road, and up above the sky let large snowflakes loose, cold and icy as they fell upon the flesh of arm. Cheeks and noses were deep red and hands were nearly frozen. Up above, the steam of a chimney gave hearts a beat or two more and feet hurried. Sliding thick wooden doors back, two slipped inside. 

    “Ah! Welcome back!” 

    “Tadaima.” 

    “Come in and dry off.” The two followed a woman into the house, sliding off their wet cold shoes for slippers. The house felt warm and cozy, like a comforting blanket. 

    “Minato! Ichiro-kun and his wife are back!” Feet led them to the sitting room and at once, they lowered to sit. The man’s eyes were kind and friendly and he smiled boyishly. 

    “We won’t be here long, Minato-kun. Just until we get settled.”

    “Off the plane and already you’re burdening yourself.” Those eyes fell to her who sat next to him, legs tucked to the side of her. Lifting a cup of hot tea to his lips to blow, Minato grinned. 

    “I didn't think you’d come home with a wife.”

    “Fiancee. We’re not legally married yet.”

    “Who needs a paper when in your heart you are already married?” He watched his friend’s cheeks grow pink. 

    “I understand. And hey, don’t worry yourself Ichiro-kun. You haven’t been home for more than a couple of weeks. Relax.” 

    “You didn’t have to let us stay here… I’m indebted to you.”

    “Stop. You’re family.” He offered no argument and bowed toward Minato’s mother who brought in cups of warm tea. 

    “You’ve always had a place here, Ikki. Don’t forget that you and Mina-chan are like brothers.” Bowing his head lower, the woman gently pat his head. 

    “What is your name, dear?” Blinking at the woman’s question, the woman appeared frazzled as she tried to think of the words to respond. 

    “Ah…Bea-Beatrice. My name is Beatrice.” The older woman smiled at her and beckoned her with a hand. 

    “Please help me in the kitchen, Beatrice-san.” 

    “Of course, madam.” The men watched her get up and soon the women were gone. 

    “How’d you meet her?” Minato asked, lifting the kettle of steaming tea. 

    “It’s…a long story.”

    “We have nothing but time.” 

    “1943. Shanghai. Some jazz club.” Lifting eyebrows in surprise, the man across from him put the cup down. 

    “Shanghai, huh? You were stationed there?”

    “Correct.”

    “What was she doing there?”

    “She’s a singer.”

    “Ah,”

    “My comrade pestered me to go so much that I went just to shut him up.”

    “And, that’s when you saw her.” Cheeks glowing red, he opted not to reply. 

    “With all respect to you, she’s a beautiful woman.” 

    “Hm.” 

    “It’s not every day that a man like you gets with a woman like that.” His eyes lifted to those of his friend. 

    “It’s good to see you pave your own way.” 

    “Things will be difficult for her and I.”

    “They’ll be difficult only if you make them difficult.” He swallowed. 

    “Our country has just encountered one of the greatest tragedies in the modern world. You bringing a black American woman back to Kurashiki is honestly the least of everyone’s worries.” Minato smirked. Scowling now, he lifted annoyed eyes upward once more. 

    “You sound like one of those fucking monks Mina-kun. In your father’s books?” 

    “I’ve reached a moment of enlightenment, yes.”

    “Enlightenment my ass.”

    “Still put off by Buddhism hm?”

    “I’m more of a Shinto man. You know this.”

    “We’ll agree to disagree. No one way is right.” The two friends grew quiet. 

    “She’s good for you. Your Beatrice.” 

    “Is she?”

    “She’s changed you.”

    “Is that a good or bad thing?” 

    “Our fathers and our grandfathers would tell us that women were useless. Their purpose and their destiny are tied to the home. What good is a woman if she can bear no children or please her husband? Remember my father asking yours that?” 

    “Hm.”

    “My wife Etsuko has provided a different outlook. Because of her, I’ve changed my thoughts towards the opposite sex.” He was more than intrigued now but kept his facial expression neutral. 

    “It is my belief now that the yin is just as powerful as the yang. Together, when merged, that is when one reaches enlightenment.” 

    “Women are divine you’re saying.” Minato’s eyes teased him. 

    “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”  

    “And what makes a woman divine, Mina-kun?” 

 

*** 

 

      Hands dipped into a basin and pulled out stalks of leek. Laying them flat on a piece of teak, a knife began to cut. 

    “You don’t have to be afraid, dear. We welcome you here.” The poor thing stood by the doorway, looking out of place and nervous. She’d been given one of her kimonos from her younger days, dark sage cotton with hand-embroidered cream lilies. Her obi had been tied in a simple yet elegant pattern and her hair had been fashioned into two braids, each hanging down her shoulders. 

    “Thank you for your hospitality, madam.”

    “Auntie Junko.”

    “Auntie?” She appeared confused. 

    “You are special to our Ikki. Therefore, you are now family to us.” She felt her throat grow tight. She had the question on the tip of her tongue but the woman seemed to hear it and responded over the calm steady chop of white onion. 

    “We are a simple and humble people, Beatrice. A people of dirt, earth, and water. What matters to us is the heart.” Stopping the chopping, older smiling eyes glanced around at her. 

    “It does not matter to us what color you are on the outside. Should your heart be pure and call Ichiro its owner, everything else will come easy.” She resumed and finished chopping the onion. 

    “As I’m sure you know, Ikki has lost his remaining family. His father died when he was young. His mother and grandmother were all he had left.” Yes, she was well aware, the memory of his crumpled weeping body graced her mind. 

    “We were deeply grieved to hear that Riko-chan and Granny Yasu were killed by the bomb. So many lives were lost in Nagasaki too. It grieves me still.” Now to carrots and those she sliced nice and thin. 

    “Ichiro has always been a quiet boy. Never one for trivialities or nonsense. Very much methodical and rigid, just like his father.” A small smile slipped up onto the lips of Junko. 

    “He never had a man to guide or shape him after his death and his only hope was that of the military, the one thing left of his father he had. Riko-chan tried but her feminine touch would disrupt the masculine energy within him. Without you, he’d be lost beyond finding.” 

    “Me?”

    “His eyes are empty and cold…lifeless. But, when he looks at you, light and love make them glitter. You breathe life into him.” Speechless now, she watched as the woman continued, cooking and talking as though she was a friend. 

    “In his heart, he desires to be your family. With you now as all he has, I believe he will finally begin his metamorphosis from a caterpillar into a butterfly.” Setting the blade down, she turned to dump the freshly chopped vegetables into a hearty-smelling broth. 

    “You must learn how to let go of the deep crippling fear within you so you can nurture him when he reaches his final stage.” There was something about this older woman… her presence like a warm and deep hug. How was it that she’d just met her and already could see so clearly what she tried to hide? 

    “Your yin energy has been fragmented. But, she is there and she can be saved and made strong again.” Tears welled up in her eyes. 

    “How?” She breathed quietly. Outstretching her hand, she gently took hold of hers and pulled her closer. 

    “Take time to reunite with her. Don’t be afraid or ashamed of her. Let her free.” 

 

*** 

 

    Keys jingled and boots crunched the snow. Breath released as mist now in the frozen air and brown cheeks were icy. Gripping her bag, she headed up the familiar pathway. It had been months since she’d been back. Setting the bag on the porch, she lifted her fingers to unlock the door. House warm, she blinked in surprise as she stepped in. Meredith. 

    “Mere?” Though the house was warm, it was empty of life. Placing her keys on the kitchen counter. Everything was in its place as if they had merely stepped out for a winter hike. Feeling her eyes grow teary, she sighed and closed the door behind her. 

    Sliding off her boots, she felt an overwhelming presence, a presence familiar and bittersweet. Grandpa. It was strange that she could suddenly smell his cologne, the one Grandma liked the most. She remembered as a little girl watching her. He’d sit at the table for breakfast, a blend of Japanese and American foods before them. Leaving the stove, she’d wrap her arms around him and press her nose just underneath his ear. It always seemed funny watching her smell him. He’d do nothing but smile, allowing her to do as she wished and when she’d finally pull away and return from the stove, his eyes would glance up at her. 

    So that scent seemed to beckon her and her throat choked with tears, she was helpless to permit restraint. Her feet followed the warm woodsy smell and felt her hands shake as it led her to the doors of his office. Go inside. It seemed to say. 

    “Jii-chan…” Sweaty palms lifted to the doors and slowly, pushed them open. Eyes widening at the scene before her, she felt her knees grow weak. Sitting at the desk was Takeru Ito and he typed furiously, seemingly in a trance of some sort. The room had been cleaned and dusted, the objects and papers once sprawled across the desk surface now neatly displayed or put away. He looked different, once a clean-shaven face now had a short neat, and trimmed mustache and beard. His hair was long enough now past his shoulders and he’d left it as was. She couldn’t lie and say it didn’t look glorious. 

    “Takeru?” At the sound of her voice, his fingers paused. For a moment, both of them stared at one another, it being months since one had seen the other. She supposed she’d changed too in the time away from the house. She’d cut her hair and pressed it, the strands now bob-length. She had gained a bit of weight after the funeral but it still carried well. 

    “Sami…hi.” She didn’t remember his voice sounding so strong and sure before and it made her drop her mouth some. 

    “H-hey…um…” 

    “Long time no see, stranger.” 

    “Yeah… you could… could say that.” He sat back in his chair and smiled at her, his eyes warm as she remembered them. 

    “You cleaned up in here.”

    “I’m trying to take care of what he left us.” 

    “Us?”

    “What’s in here is just as much yours as it is mine. More yours than mine anyway.” 

    “Hm.” 

    “Come on in. I won’t bite.” Swallowing, she slowly inched closer, awe written all over her face. He’d managed to restore the room to its glory days, the wood polished and shiny. He’d had the carpet removed and exposed the original wooden floors, a nice gloss to them too. The clock he’d fixed and the uniforms that had been shoved into crates now were on display, clean and free of dust. 

    “It looks amazing in here, Take.” He smiled so deep that his eyes grew narrow with a smile of their own and crinkled up in the corners. She felt her heart beat faster. 

    “Thanks.” Setting them on her, he sighed. 

    “How’ve you been baby girl?” Spit thick, she tried to swallow it down and not choke, clearing her throat before answering. 

    “Fine…I mean…not fine but fine.” He nodded, understanding perfectly. 

    “I’ve gained weight. My mother would call me fat.”

    “Who cares what your mother would say.” He answered, voice now a bit firm. 

    “You look beautiful.” Brown cheeks turned pink. 

    “You’ve certainly changed. Beard, long hair. What’s up with that?” 

    “What about it?” Crossing her arms, she pursed her lips. 

    “It’s not like you.”

    “I was scared of a lot of things ‘Sami. Scared to be me…scared of your grandfather. I was a complete coward.” Running fingers through those thick obsidian locks, he glanced down at his laptop. 

    “He didn’t leave here without teaching me a few things.” His eyes looked back up at her. 

    “I’ve gone through nearly everything and I want to give them and their stories justice. They deserve to have it told the way they were…unfiltered and raw.” 

    “Take,”

    “By the end of this year, I think I’ll be done.” Closer she came and she glanced down at the manuscript nice and neat on the laptop screen. 

    “You didn’t have to…do any of this.” 

    “I wanted to. I needed to do this for me too, Sami. I’m doing my best.” Sniffling, she wrapped arms around him and hugged him, pressing her face against his shoulder. 

    “Thank you…” Lifting a hand, he gently caressed her hair.

 

*** 

 

 

    My conversation with Minato was strange. I felt like another world had opened up to me. The idea… no the thought of women being divine beings was something I couldn’t understand. As he spoke, I listened, not forming opinions or assumptions about anything. 

 

*** 

 

    “My father gave this to me and I think it would serve you well in your married life.”

    “We’re not married yet.”

    “So you’ve said before, friend.” Minato had gotten up and went over to a chest. Unlocking it, he reached inside and pulled out a paper book. It was old from the looks of it, the binding to the pages needing rework. 

    “It wasn’t until Etsuko and I shared our first night that I finally believed.”

    “You were that horny, huh?” Grinning, the man came back to the table and placed the book in front of him. 

    “When you and Beatrice share your first night, you’ll understand too.” Fingers lifted the cover and flipped it back, freezing at what was beneath him. A drawing of a female sex organ stared back at him and he lifted his eyes, mouth deep in a frown. 

    “You’re fucking kidding me.” Minato sipped his tea, a smirk on his face. 

    “The female orifice serves as a portal. The place you wish to go and the heaven you wish to find is inside of her, Ichiro-kun.” Throat tight, he glanced back down at the drawing. Ornate and beautiful the woman’s genitals were depicted as flowery. To add to the emphasis, flower petals surrounded her. The image was drawn inside of what appeared to be a traditional mirror and a poem of reverence was created near the left-hand side. 

    “Take it with you. Read. Study and learn. Consider it an early wedding gift.” Closing the book, he placed it down by his leg. The shoji slid open and in stepped the two women, carrying a large pot. Kneeling down carefully, they placed it on top of a burner filled with hot coal. 

    “Dinner is served.” Schooching next to him, Beatrice gave him a smile. 

    “It looks delicious. Ms. Beatrice, you helped?” Cheeks girlish and pink, she nodded. The sight of her was so irresistible that he lifted her chin and made her look at him, her blush now deepening. 

    “She did well for her first time. She’ll be prepared to feed you in no time, Ikki.” Eyes now warm, he took those same fingers and brushed her cheek. 

    “I’m sure she will.” Smiling to herself, she began to lift the ladle, spooning fresh broth, meat, and vegetables into pretty decorative bowls. 

 

*** 

 

    Our stay with Minato and his mother was pleasant in the months to come. It pleased me to see Bea grow accustomed to our daily life and routine. In the mornings, she’d rise with Aunt Junko, and together, they’d go to the forest, heavily bundled with coats and baskets. They’d pick fresh winter berries, fingers cold and red from rubbing the snow from them. She seemed to enjoy foraging and would proudly show me what she’d discovered upon their return. 

    Minato and I would rise early also and we took to chopping firewood and cleaning. When we were done, I would go into the village center and offer blacksmith services. I’d been scouted by the owner back in February and it gave me a chance to start earning an income. When I’d return and see her there waiting for me, I’d lift her hands, take them into my own and warm her fingers with my warmth. I’d steal a kiss from her lips and she’d push me away playfully. As blissful as this was, as much as I wanted to stay…I knew that the time to leave was approaching. 

 

 

*** 

 

Mid-March 

 

    “Will she stay with us?” 

    “I don’t know.” The smoke of a pipe drifted into the air. 

    “It would do well for her to stay and let me prepare her properly.”

    “If she wishes to go with Ikki then she is free to.” 

    “Of course. I just miss having female company.” Lips smiled and a head leaned back against an open window. Winter still clung to the air but spring was on the horizon. 

    “I know, Mother.” 

    “She will make a good wife to him already. She just needs more time to heal.” 

    “What happened to her?” Another female voice asked, head now against the chest of her husband. 

    “Her innocence was taken and her spirit was violated.” 

    “She confided this in you, Mother?” The woman nodded and with a solemn expression took another inhale of the sweet tobacco. 

    “Her aura is heavy and it weeps as though it is grieving.” 

    “Gods…”

    “She has left her family in America and she misses her mother greatly.”

    “Poor girl,”

    “Etsuko, you’ve done well taking her under your wing. She needs a sister to mind and keep her.” 

    “She’s a sweet girl. I don’t mind at all.”

    “And Minato, you as a brother figure. It’s important for her to see that she is worth protecting.” He bowed his head. 

    “We must allow these two to grow apart for a while. In order for the marriage to be harmonious, they require separate time.” 

    “If that is the will of the gods then it is so.” 

 

*** 

 

    Sweat beaded on her forehead and her legs were about killing her but she remained crouched, fanning the old fashion stove. In a floral shirtdress, she’s tied up her hair with a scarf. Ichiro had surprised her one day with a few dresses from back home. 

    She had gotten used to the kimono but there was something so special and sweet about wearing her own clothes. Deciding that the fire had been stoked enough, she lifted to stand. It was still quite chilly outside even though April was approaching so she thought a stew would be appropriate.  

    Lifting the blade, she slowly cut the carrots. She was nowhere as good as Auntie Junko but she liked to think that she was getting better. Her hand was still clumsy but she was getting it mighty fine. 

    “Little Sister,” Looking up to see Etsuko, she placed the wide blade down. 

    “Hi,” 

    “What are you doing?”

    “What’s it look like?” Grinning, the older woman came to her side and hugged her. 

    “Ah, we’ve got carrots hm?”

    “Mmhm.” She’d found out that Etsuko knew English a few weeks ago and from there, they mostly always conversed in that manner, easing her homesick heart. 

    “I think this is about right hm?” 

    “What?” Glancing over, she found Etsuko holding up a carrot. 

    “Um,”

    “This might be Minato’s size.”

    “Etsuko, what the hell are you doing?”

    “I’m cooking with you, silly.” 

    “No, you’re waving a carrot in my face.” The older woman grinned. 

    “I’m trying to help you here.”

    “By waving a carrot in my face?” Turning to her, she lifted the carrot, a nice and thick one. 

    “Have you heard of yin before, Bea?” 

    “Who?”

    “Yin.”

    “No. What’s that?” 

    “It’s what makes us women.” Swallowing, she watched as Etsuko took hold of the carrot with both of her hands. 

    “It’s what makes us divine, Bea. The femininity inside of you.” 

    “O-okay and… what does that carrot have to do with it?” 

    “This is how you dwell in your power.” To her horror, she began to move her fingers up and down, making her eyes grow wide. 

    “Etsuko, stop…”

    “A married woman must know how to please her husband, Bea. I’m showing you how.” 

    “No…” 

    “There you are, fighting it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not a filthy thing.” Feeling her heart pound, her downcast eyes slowly lifted. 

    “This is a sacred act, little sister. It’s holy.”

    “I-I’ve never seen it like that.” She stuttered as Etsuko moved her hand faster, the water from the basin slipping across and down her fingers. 

    “He’ll do anything you ask and desire because you please his body and spirit. When our men become far too hard and unyielding, we must make them soft again.” She felt a tingle below her waist and watched the woman now with sparked curiosity. 

    “Start slow as before. It depends on what he likes, whether your hand is wet or dry. Starting out, I wet my hand to provide slip. Enjoy yourself. Listen to his breath, the way he groans, the way he responds to your touch.”  Her tongue licked her lips. 

    “When you feel ready, you can take him into your mouth. Take your time with this part and be careful of your teeth.”

    “M-my teeth?”

    “They’re sharp. We don’t want to hurt them.”

    “Oh.” 

    “Like this,” Lifting the carrot to her mouth, she slowly licked the top of it, dragging her tongue up the side of it. Gently she pushed it into her mouth. 

    “Etsuko… I think I got it…” The woman pulled the carrot out of her mouth. 

    “If I made you feel uncomfortable, I apologize. It was meant to be a teachable lesson.” She said again, now putting the carrot aside in the scrap bin. 

    “Embrace your desires and be confident in them, Bea. It’s okay to get lost. He’ll find you.” Smiling gently, the woman gave her a nod in farewell and left her once again by herself. 

End Notes:

 

A/N (1): Heyyyyyyyy y'alllllll hehehehe. How y'all doin'? Hope your respective weeks are going well on this good Monday! hehe. I've got updates for y'all this week! I apologize for updating late, I had issues with my internet last week. Because of that, you guys are gonna get a double update so to speak hehe. I updated four chapters last week and then three for this week so there is plenty to read hehe. Kay, here's my original A/N.

A/N (2): Grab y'all raincoats and umbrellas (don't forget the fan too) cause it's about to HOT in here hehe.

Can I first say that I love this little family unit that Ichiro and Beatrice have formed? I cannot imagine how homesick Bea is being away from her mother. It's clear that she has chosen to live with Ichiro in Japan, a MAJOR and some would say ABRUPT move, despite knowing that her mother hates (the idea of) him. Also, the move was honestly for both of their safety, seeing as how things back home in America for both of them weren't great. I love how warm and welcoming Junko and company are towards her. 

These updates are literally in heavy Japanese mythology and history so be forewarned of that! Ichiro's conversation (and gift from) with Minaro is one that also is not terribly uncommon. In my research, I found that shunga which translates to spring pictures, are as defined by google, " ...an erotic artistic tradition that emerged from early modern Japan, featuring graphic images of sexual activity. Centuries and centuries ago, shunga was something that was embraced and a normal part of daily life. Seen as humorous, informative and even protective amulets.  These graphic drawings were seen as visual guides fo soon to be married couples as well and that's what I played up on here. hehe. 

LIkewise, as Minato is talking to his friend, Etsuko is serving as the one to have a sort of 'sex' talk with Beatrice as well. She's never really had one before now and she's completely inexperienced, skittish, and ignorant of even her own body. I think it was shocking and endearing of Etsuko in the last scene lol. I woulda been looking at her like I know you NOT doing THAT with the carrots I'm about to put in dinner LOL. 

Hope you enjoy these updates! It took a LOT of research, time and energy LOL. I'm thinking of going on another short writing break soon LOL. To all of you, thank you for the love, support, reads and comments hehe. 

See you all soon~ 

DL~

 

Suzu Hirose is Etsuko Inoue 

Masaki Okada is Minato Inoue 

Matsuzaka Keiko is Junko Inoue 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

さんじゅういち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

sanjuuichi 

thirty-one 

 

GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF THE FEMALE GENITALIA

 

 

    The book Minato gave me proved…interesting. On the nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d light a small candle and study it. The visuals and text were incredibly detailed and it humored me to think that at one time, Minato’s father had spent late nights reading the same thing. This night, I came across another picture of the female genitalia. Glad that I was alone because this night I couldn’t help sliding my hand down below my waist as I read.

 

*** 

 

    “The woman is a mysterious creature. Folklore has it that she was created from the tears of Amateratsu. From the beginning of time, the woman has been regarded as representative of the spirit world, conduit, and mediator between the realm of the living and dead, and carriers of fertility. It is this fertility that we will discuss now.” His eyes fell to the drawing of the genitalia. He’d never truly taken the time to look at it before. In the past, he’d pried open legs and shoved his cock in, no questions asked or observations made. But, taking the time now, he lamented that he hadn’t appreciated it before. It was strangely aesthetic.

     The flesh on each side of the slit appeared puffy and hairless, the cluster of hairs gathered at the top of the mound. Legs spread, and the fleshy pink inner lips traveled from the top of the mound down to just before what appeared to be the anus. There clearly drawn was a bud of some sort, varying in size from tiny to about the size of his thumb. Down his eyes took in the spread open hole, fleshy and pink. Inviting. Licking his lips, he read the next section.

 

***  

    “Pleasuring the woman is not a quick endeavor. You must have patience. To make things pleasing for you, the orifice must be extremely moist. To stimulate the genitalia, follow the steps below. 

    1. The bud at the top of the slit is a highly sensitive area. When touched or licked, it causes extreme pleasure to the woman. While it is easy to go there first, sometimes it can feel unpleasant and unwelcome by the female. Start around the seed. Kiss the flesh, caress it, however you please. It is best to start lightly and build up pressure.”  The thought of licking it made his cock throb and there his hand went, going to stroke himself. 

    2. Take your time. Should you not wish to wait, the woman should please you with her hands. Have patience. Enjoy her. 

    3. Use your fingers. Be attentive to her breath, sounds, and the way she moves her body.

 

*** 

 

    He wanted to fill up her little hole with his fingers and stretch it out, prepare it for his hungry cock. The thought made his breath catch in his throat and he let go of his shaft, the urge to cum cutting his belly open. Panting, he glanced down at the pitiful bastard as it twitched and bobbed, wanting more. 

    4. Explore the rest of her body. The woman will reveal where she likes to be touched best. Listen. 

    Inhaling deeply, he blew out his breath and turned the page. Fuck him. The head of an erect dick pressed against the flesh of the depicted slit. 

    5. When you have satisfied her, she will be willing to welcome you inside her. It is at this time that her yin energy is at its highest and it seeks to devour your yang. A spiritual exchange is to happen. Once you enter into the orifice, intense light and pleasure will overwhelm you. This is when your energies mingle and conjoin. As you move your bodies against one another, you both seek enlightenment together. She the conduit, the gateway shall lead and guide you closer and closer. When pleasure has reached the pinnacle, your yang energy will flood her holy portal and it will tightly grasp you, absorbing your offering. 

    What a ride his imagination had taken and in his mind, he came inside of her, holding her still as he filled her, her moans sweet and clear. Without warning, he ejaculated with a surprised grunt, his head tossed back. Breath hard and uneven, he bit his lip as spurt after spurt of semen shot upward only to dirty his skin as it splattered wetly against his stomach and chest. Trying to catch his breath, he hummed quietly, eyes closed.

    “Fucking woman,” He whispered to himself, a tiny smirk teasing his mouth. 

 

    *** 

 

    The shunga definitely helped me develop my technique and deepen my appreciation for the female body. I no longer would view it as a useless object to get me off. Beatrice’s pleasure mattered to me and I was very dedicated to learning newer and better ways of maintaining her satisfaction. 

    When morning came, I woke up before the crack of dawn. My sleep the past few nights had been shit and all throughout the night, I’d dreamt of my birth home crumbling into pieces or being lit on fire. It gave me chills and I’d wake up with tears hugging the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t let my family home be destroyed. I’d sell my soul before I let that happen. Lucky for me, Minato was also awake, meditating. When finished, he turned toward me. 

 

*** 

 

    “Long night, Ichiro-kun?” Hair messy, he frowned, his entire body unhappy.  

    “You could say that.”

    “The morning blood flow. Guess that means someone’s healthy.” 

    “Fuck off and stop looking at it.” Minato chuckled and with a sigh, lifted his arms above him in a stretch. 

    “You look like you have a lot on your mind.” 

    “Your mystical buddha tell you that?” 

    “No, common sense did. The bags under your eyes are horrible.”  

    “So is your face.” He shot back, voice sour. 

    “What are you going to do about it?” Minato asked, exhaling as a bone popped. 

    “Beatrice. Can she stay here with you?” Opening one of his eyes, he let his arms fall down to his sides. 

    “No, we’re going to take her to Yoshiwara.” Probably not the best joke because his entire face darkened and the look in his eyes sent a chill through him. 

    “Calm down, Ichiro. I’m just joking.” He didn’t budge and the man now rolled his neck. 

    “She’s welcome to stay here as long as she likes.” 

    “Good.”

    “How long will you be away? Whatever is on your mind sounds like it will take a while.”  He reached for his prosthesis. 

    “I’m going to my family home.” Understanding, Minato swallowed. 

    “I see.” A knock disrupted their conversation. 

    “It’s Beatrice.” The two men glanced at each other. Closing his robe tighter, he cleared his throat. 

    “Come in.” Sliding back the shoji, she peeked her head in. 

    “Am I interrupting?” 

    “If you were, I wouldn’t have told you to come in.” Pursing her lips, she came in and closed the door behind her. She’d put on a sleeping robe to cover her shoulders and body. To his gratitude because she also wore a light and flowy nightgown. Coming in, she plopped down next to him. 

    “Oh, good. You haven’t put it on yet.”

    “Beatrice,”

    “I keep telling you you have to clean it every day.” Her eyes turned to Minato’s humored ones

    “Minato, could you please bring me warm soapy water, a rag, and some gauze if you have it?” 

    “Of course.” Leaving them alone, he felt his heart thump hard against his chest. This would make the second time she’d been here when he had a hard-on and he was convinced she just had an affinity for it. He supposed it served her right. It was all her fault, anyhow. 

    “How’d you sleep, sugar?” She asked, reaching now to move his robe up a bit. 

    “Fine,” He answered, watching intensely as she slid hands around the stump carefully. 

    “Don’t lie.” She answered back, glancing up at him briefly before back at her task. It was obvious, it was there and still, she worked around it. 

    “Like shit.” He chose to answer honestly, inhaling deeply as she unwound the gauze.     

    “Me too.” At last, the last of it was removed and she blinked at the pinkish red staining the end of it. 

    “Ichiro,”

    “It does that sometimes. It doesn’t hurt.” Worried, she took a breath. 

    “Yes, it does. It keeps you up at night. That’s why you can’t sleep.” She answered, brushing the sensitive skin with her fingertips. He inhaled sharply. 

    “You don’t have to pretend. It’s just us.” He swallowed the truth and reached down, laying his hand on top of hers. Their combined heat soothed his residual limb. In the pale morning light and cool breeze, they shared a kiss, one of greeting and longing. He wanted more, she knew it by the way his lips lingered. But she pulled away. 

    “Here you are, Ms. Beatrice.”

    “Thank you, Minato.”

    “No problem.” Shoji once more shut she went to work, wringing out the warm soapy rag. Hands now away, she was able to take her time and clean the scar tissue, still leaking blood after three years. Not too much now to cause concern but it definitely confused her. He was all healed up so there was no reason for him to bleed after all this time. 

    “I’m going to leave today.” 

    “Where are we going?”

    “You won’t be coming with me. Not yet.” That got her attention. 

    “Mind explaining?” 

    “It’s something I have to do. As the only son.”

    “Your family.” He nodded, watching her fingers now pat the skin dry. Smiling, she grabbed the gauze now. 

    “I understand.” Silent now, she softly hummed as she wrapped. 

    “How long?” 

    “Six months to a year.” Her hands stilled. 

    “That long?” 

    “I haven’t been home since my departure in 1937. My mother was there three years ago. It’s been vacant now for that long.” She began to wrap again. 

    “I will not let my ancestral home be destroyed or neglected. It’s my responsibility to care for it.” 

    “I know…” She had more to say but she bit it off with her teeth. 

    “It’s also my responsibility to prepare a place for my wife.” Lifting her gaze, he laid his palm against her cheek. 

    “I want to bring you home. To our real home.” Her eyes grew misty with tears but she dared not shed them. Pressing her cheek into his palm, she just closed her eyes and gave a single nod. 

    “When it’s ready, I’ll come to get you.”

    “Are we going to wait till then? To get married?” 

    “We’ll marry you guys right now if you want.” The two of them jumped and turned to see Minato, Etsuko, and Auntie Junko all at the door, eyes peeking in. 

    “Get the fuck out!” He growled, making Minato and Junko jump up. 

    “I’m just saying…” Etsuko’s last word before closing the shoji, her laughter fading down the hall. She mirrored the nosey woman and started laughing. Leaning forward, she pressed her face against his chest. Weak now, he allowed a smile to soften his face and wrapped arms around her. Pulling her down against the bed, he watched as she caught her breath and lifted a hand to wipe her eyes. Cheeks warm, she looked up at him, his arm sliding across her waist. 

    “I must give and bring honor to my parents. I have to do everything properly. No matter how much I want you to be my wife now.” Pressing his forehead against hers, he whispered his reply against her. Lifting slow fingers, she laid her palm against his cheek. 

    “I understand.”

 

 

*** 

 

    I wanted nothing more than to drag her to the nearest temple and marry her. But, what good would it do? Where did rushing get the both of us? Our love did best with space to ebb and flow as it pleased. Rushing would disrupt it. In my heart, I knew her as my wife. My body burned to have the same revelation. And it would. The right way. 

    After a while, we both got up and dressed. A simple shirt and trousers. I ran a quick comb through my hair and opted not to attach my prosthesis. On my cane, I turned to be rewarded with the sight of her, standing there so beautifully. In a light orange-beige dress, she stood, her hands clutched nervously. The splice neckline showcased her delicate collarbones and neck and her hair had been combed and brushed back into a tasteful bun. On her feet heels of the same color. She was stunning. 

    I felt dizzy for just a moment and balanced myself on my cane, gripping the knob tightly. Swallowing hard, I stood straight and approached her. Reaching for her hand, I gladly took it into my own and she blushed, her eyes appreciatively gliding down my form. Smirking, I lifted her hand to my lips. 

 

*** 

 

    The group of them went into town. It gave him great pleasure watching her laugh and joke with Etsuko, her face alive and well. Holding onto each other, the two women chatted amongst themselves and he wanted to know what they whispered so discreetly.  Aunt Junko had decided to give her a tour of their village and she started with Ms. Minoki’s sweet shop. 

    The old woman greeted them with a smile and it flooded him with childhood memories. It was bittersweet, watching her eat the fruit-flavored dango that he and Mitsuko had enjoyed as small children. Smiling at him, she lifted one to his mouth and he accepted it, eating it with a pleased little sigh. Cheeks full of color, Etsuko pulled her away to explore the antiques upstairs. 

    He couldn’t help but feel a lingering heaviness. He wanted her to always know laughter, joy, and freedom. He wanted their marriage to work… he wanted it to last. But, more than anything, he wanted closure. She’d had gotten closure in Alabama. He needed closure too. She’d changed so much since the last time they’d been together, back in 1945 at Mukden. She’d been able to at least try to discover herself and what she wanted… whom she wanted to be. He needed to do the same. He needed to grieve and feel. Cry, weep and lose himself in the emotion. 

    As they headed into the Bitan district, he let her hand go, watching as she ran up to the bridge that spanned the distance of the canal built long before their time. When he’d shed everything then he would rebuild. He’d rebuild and reclaim.

 

***

 

    Within the next year, I took the time to find myself. Let parts of me die. Open myself up to whatever the healing process looked like. I let go of and created new rituals. I tried, with the morning sun and flow of blood, to welcome peace into my body. At night, I laid on the tatami, memories of my mother and father watching as I fanned the brutal summer heat away from Mitsuko as a baby. Some nights they crippled me and I fell asleep having wept into exhaustion. Others, they proved to be a comfort.

     It took me the longest time to even slightly recover from the loss of my mother. She was the first woman who ever had my heart. She was the first to love me with such unconditional and pure love. I carried my mother, father and sister in my heart for a long time. I still, after all this time, do. As the years passed, it has grown easier and easier and I finally feel at peace. The restoration of the house was the first taste of the closure I needed. It wouldn’t be until later that I would finally put them to rest and lay my grief aside.

    Clinging to what brought me comfort, away from the blood, flesh, and carnage that haunted my dreams, I started going to Aichi Temple. It served to focus my energy and mental stability. Praying to the gods and sitting amongst the deities of nature inspired me and helped me to renew my purpose. The identity of the soldier I laid there amongst the trickling waters of life and quiet rustling trees. I could let him die, finally. 

 

*** 

 

1949 

   Early February  

 

    “Excuse me,” The birdsong had been most calming and now, having found the moment disturbed, lifted annoyed eyes upward. A Buddhist monk, appearing to be around his age, had stopped on his passage, eyes looking down at him. 

    “What do you want?” He replied rudely, mouth twisted up. Unphased, the monk drew closer until he sat on the ground next to him. 

    “You are growing through your suffering. Your aura is especially bright today.” 

    “Who are you?” The man smiled, humor now dancing in his eyes. 

    “I am just a passing monk.”

    “That apparently does not mind his business.” He retorted, turning away from him slightly. 

    “You have inugami in you. I’m sure you know this by now.” 

    “What do you know of inugami, monk?” 

    “I may be Buddhist but I am Japanese too.”  He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. 

    “You have had to war with what you are naturally gifted to protect. You’ve endured much suffering.”

    “Stop talking as though you fucking know me.” There in his voice lay warning. This bastard was a second away from pissing him off. He sounded like Minato… trying to be mystical and holier than God. It was starting to piss him off. 

    “I mean no disrespect, friend. I merely am reading what your aura wishes to share with me.” Still, he said nothing, eyes on the gorgeous mountain views ahead of him. 

    “It is time for you to find your enlightenment. You’ve more than earned it as a reward for the trials you've gone through.” 

    “Tell me then, great monk of the universe. How will I find it?” He didn't hide his sarcasm and the monk again, smiled. 

    “It is not how you will find it. It is what you will do to gain it.” At that, eyes turned to meet the man who appeared to now be meditating, arms and hands relaxed and in a pose.

 

*** 

 

    Little did I know that that man was no ordinary monk. He found his enlightenment not by seeking his Buddha alone. No, he used the act of sex to commune and fellowship with his god. It was a concept that was completely foreign to me and it was something I could not fathom.

 

*** 

 

    “You’ve done well in controlling your yang energy, friend.”  Lips pursed, he found the man now standing naked there away from him. At the public bath, the Shinto and Buddhist practitioners desired to cleanse their physical bodies in preparation for a divine meeting. The man glanced down at the result of the morning flow of blood there jutting up between his thighs. He didn’t ask about nor did he glance too long at his residual limb and soon lifted his humored gaze away from his member. 

    “It has been locked inside of a gate of holy red twine. Presumably by your own meditations.” 

    “Fuck off.” He simply replied, brushing past him. The man didn’t gaze at him with lust, no, what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up was the otherworldly stare that seemed to pierce him. It was as if he were in the presence of a god. 

    “You desire to consume the yin energy of a kitsune. Have you any idea how to usher her into reception?” At that, he froze. 

    “What did you say?” 

    “You, friend, must accept that the body and the womb of a female is just as divine as the phallus and testicles of a male. The revelation of this will enable harmony. That is what you seek, right?” It gave him chills, the words of the man, who now as he turned had walked away and lowered himself into the bath. 

    “Learn join suhai.” 

    “What is join suhai, monk?” 

    “The body of a woman is like shaved ice in summer. It is cold and shocking. And yet, it tastes sweet and cools the heat from the brow, mouth, and loins. Respect the womb and it will give you many offspring. With equal worship and dedication, there will be harmony, peace, and balance.” With all of that said, the man finally disappeared underneath the water. His words stirred his shaft and he glanced down at it as it jerked. Perhaps this bullshit held some weight to it. Perhaps, the book Minato had given him was right.

 

*** 

 

    As time passed, I began to keep the information I’d learned and the techniques of female pleasure I’d never before heard of safely tucked away. I hungered for her with unparalleled intensity and I finally wanted to bite into the fruit that I’d watched grow so patiently. As the heavens heard my prayer, the spring of 1949 came quicker than I’d expected and soon, she was to be within my grasp once again. 

 

*** 

 

    

    Her stomach had been in knots all morning. She’d received his letter a couple of days ago and she had been in such disbelief that she’d read it over and over again. 

 

 

    Come home. I am waiting for you. 

    Ichiro

 

 

    Short, sweet, and to the point, she‘d been unable to stop her excitement. It hadn’t taken her long to pack her belongings. With everything in the third rickshaw, they were off. Like so many years before, swirling green trees, leaves, and people breezed past her, living now in a slower mode of motion. 

    “Are you excited, Bea?” Etsuko held her hand and she tightened her grip on it. 

    “I’m ready to see him.” The older woman smiled and left the comment unanswered. 

    It had been an entire year since they’d last seen each other. In that year, she’d done a lot of growing. A lot of failing. Crying and healing. She felt like she’d finally left the cocoon and flown on her own wings. 

 

*** 

 

 

    “I HATE HIM.”  Sobbing, she curled up into a ball and lifted her fingers to cover her face. 

    “Who, Bea?” 

    “Every man who has ever touched me without permission. Every man who broke me.” A soothing hand rubbed her back. 

    “Do you hate Ichiro too?”

    “….yes….”

    “Why?” 

    “Because he’s a part of them… him…he’s just as responsible.” She breathed through the emotion, letting it rip her apart. 

    “I don’t know why I fell in love with him…” Words came to be too much and instead of words, she let her tears speak for her, all of it screaming loud and clear one thing. Free me. 

 

***

 

    There were so many nights that she couldn’t sleep, haunted by nightmares of the past. Of Ruby’s cut-up body in the jar of formaldehyde coming alive and talking to her. Of her baby opening its eyes and screaming. She’d wake up screaming, seeing her brother and her father hanging from the same branch outside her house, the house they had to flee. 

    Sweat would soak her and she’d force herself to stay awake for hours and hours, afraid to go back to sleep for fear that she’d wake up on the operating table of Unit 100, surgeons lowering the scalpel to cut open her chest. 

    She’d cry out for Momma, for Joe, even for Ichiro. She’d cry out for them to come to save her… pull her out of the pit of hell she found herself back into. And while she’d cry, scream and break into a million more pieces, Etsuko was there. She’d hold her, rock her and brush back her hair. She’d run a warm bath for her or heat some milk with lavender and camomile flowers.  

    It had been a year of anger, fear, and grief. A year of discovery. Restoration. Reclamation. She knew she had a long way to go and knew that she’d need continual therapy. But, she had done it all… given it all. And now, now she was at the point of wanting to receive. She wanted to receive all the good that God had for her. She wanted to receive love, life, and happiness. 

 

*** 

 

    “What are you doing?” Looking up, she found Etsuko peeking into her room and screamed, diving underneath the covers of her futon. 

    “N-Nothin’…why don’t you ever knock?” The woman grinned. 

    “Don’t be ashamed. I keep telling you that.”

    “I’m…I’m not.” 

    “What do you think?” 

    “About what?”

    “Your power?” Swallowing, she felt the sting of embarrassment nearly burn her alive. It felt weird and she couldn’t even believe that she had even done it. But curiosity had led her to reach for a handheld mirror and open her legs, bringing the glass upward for her to see. 

    “It’s kinda pretty in a way.” 

    “It’s very pretty. It’s special and meant to be adored. Don’t forget it, little sister.” The sound of the shoji shutting closed made her breathe a breath of relief. Lifting the futon away from her, she pressed a hand against her chest. Reaching for the thrown aside mirror once more, she opened her legs and stared at it again. It was strange. Looking at herself this way. Her eyes took in the various colors that made her…her. Mound full of thick coily hairs, down a little, further laid her small little opening. Throat tight, she drifted fingers down to lightly examine herself. 

    She was soft down there… kinda slippery too. Her outer lips were puffy and smooth. Her inner lips seemed to travel down the entire length of her, a slight brownish pink. In awe, she angled the mirror a bit more to reveal more. The thought of Ichiro’s girth stretching her open made her quiver and she quickly closed her legs, her heart slamming against her chest. That was enough… She wouldn’t be satisfied until his fingers replaced hers and her thoughts became real. 

 

*** 

 

    Cheeks blushed and she turned to look out at the houses as they now changed. She wanted to receive him, finally. She wanted to accept and take his love in all of their forms into her being and hold tight to them. She needed him and it was okay to admit that, now. She wanted to reintroduce herself to him and to his heart. She wanted to introduce her body to him, trusting that he wouldn’t abuse it.  The rickshaw began to slow down, bringing into view a wooden itabei of scorched cedar lined the entryway. 

    “Ready?” 

    “Yeah.” 

    Twisting heeled feet outward, she was helped from the rickshaw. Heart in her throat, she took a step forward. The fence seemed to extend and expand endlessly, healthy trees framing the sides. The mon was shaped like a sturdy black helmet of sorts and it made her mouth drop in awe. Walking up the old stone pathway, she gawked at the beauty of it all. This was Ichiro’s birth home? It was magnificent and screamed affluence. Coming through the gate, she turned and felt her heart stop. Standing by the door he stood, a cigarette in his fingers. Etsuko, Minato, and Auntie Junko all stopped too. 

    “Ichiro…” Lifting his eyes, he blew out the nicotine-filled smoke and smiled softly. 

    “Welcome home, Bea.” 

 

End Notes:

 

A/N: WHEW MAN. A lot to unpack here. So, if it seems rushed, I don't mean it to be. I write it as I see it so I kinda see it like a movie. You know how sometimes, movies will transition and cut through multiple scenes before moving on to another major part of the story? It's like that for me hehe. To be honest, writing this made me a little bit emotional lol. It's graphic yes, but the way I see it, it's the 'education' that Ichiro never got to receive from his own father.  It's special in that sense. A time, usually of bonding between father and son, the last bit of boyhood before being thrown into a man's world wasn't afforded to him. It's honestly like a full circle kind of moment for him. He's still discovering what being a 'man' means to him. 

Apart of what makes him grounded is his beliefs/faith. As mentioned earlier, he was raised and grew up in a Shinto background (as were mostly all Japanese at the time, even in some cases today. It is Japan's national/indigeous religion, accompanied by Buddhism as the second main). His faith keeps him grounded. It helps him to stay close to his father's memory. In a lot of ways, it has helped him heal. As copied from theculturetrip.com, Shinto is an animistic religion, meaning its practitioners believe that every living thing – and even inanimate objects like rocks – is animate and possesses a spirit. These are called kami and important ones are worshipped by humans. 

That's why there's a lot of reference to animals. Ichiro as explored in further chapters is referred to as housing the inu and okami which mean dog and wolf. (sound/look familiar?) Beatrice, the kitsune or fox. I'll get into it as we get to the chapters haha. But yes, just a little background. I told y'all I been researching for this to be right lol.

 

As copied from Wikipedia, Amateratsu is:  also known as Amaterasu-Ōmikami (天…大御神, 天…大神) or Ōhirume-no-Muchi-no-Kami (大—孁貴神). She is the goddess of the sun in Japanese mythology. She is one of the major deities of Shinto. Believed to be the mythical ancestress of the Imperial House of Japan. 

OH, another thing I want to explain is the use of phalluses. When I tell y'all I researched this thing DOWN. You'll know in the next chapter or so the presence of the male sex organs as guardians of fertility and regarded as holy. While it makes sense lol. I wanted to dig into the feminine aspect of fertility within Japanese mythology because well, we're holy too LOL. So, there's that. Hopefully, I give it justice LOL. 

I love this period of healing, of breaking, of discovery within themselves. Bea at the end touching herself honestly made me tear up. NO LIE lol. I was like omg, it's not even a sexual touch or exploration. It's more of a whoa, that's me and I'm beautiful and I'm worthy touch. CAN WE GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE PLEASE. This chapter was a pleasure to write hehe. 

Two down, two to do hehe. 

DL~

other terms:

mon: ceremonial outer gate

itabei: fence

join suhai: literally means vulva worship. 

 

さんじゅうに by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjyuuni 


thirty-two 

 

 

 

I couldn’t get to her fast enough. I moved as fast as I could given the cane but she helped, meeting me more than halfway. She jumped up against me and I wrapped my arms around her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she pressed her nose against my neck, inhaling my scent. I wasn’t sure how pleasant it was, being that I had just been in the yard, planting seeds. It didn’t much matter to her and she followed her nose with her lips. 

    My heart threatened to fail with how fast it was beating but I managed, allowing the emotion to fill my entire body. It was good to have her back in my arms. It was good, so good to hold her against me and feel her breath against mine. I promised myself to never again allow that much time to pass between us. 

 

*** 

 

    “I missed you so much…” She breathed against him. Letting her back down, he lifted a hand and took hold of her underneath her jaw. Pulling her back against him, he leaned down to press his lips against her cheek. Arm still partially around his neck, her fingers curled up slightly as he kissed her tears. Lifting her other arm, she gently laid it upon the hand that held her jaw. 

    The scene before them out of a classic poem, the three watched him kiss her nose, brow, to the other wet cheek. Finally to her lips. He let the cane fall out of his hand and lifted it to caress her hair, gently gripping her head. 

    Humming against him as he deepened the kiss, her open and pliant mouth permitted his tongue entry and the kiss was passionate and wet. Lost in their own world for a moment, the three watching felt as though they were intruding and lowered their eyes. Soon, the sound of their lips separating made them lift them again. Cradling her to his chest, he finally made eye contact with them. 

    “Thank you for bringing her safely.” Aunt Junko smiled brightly, waving a hand. 

    “No need to thank us, Ikki-chan.” Cheeks now warm, he let go of her and cleared his throat. 

    “Dozo, Dozo. Please” Kneeling, she retrieved his cane, and together, they entered the home, the others soon following. 

 

***

 

 

    “It’s exactly like I remember it, Ichiro-kun.” Eyes took in the wide lacquered engawa and open amado (sliding storm shutters) to reveal the massive traditional sitting room. He’d placed five low tables, each complete with low chairs and cushions. 

    “It’s incredible. I can’t believe you actually lived here.” She gawked, careful not to let go of his leading hand. Chuckling, he glanced back at her. 

    “Is it really that hard to believe?”

    “Well, yeah. Hell, you’ve seen where I grew up.” 

    “You deserve a place like this instead.” He mused as he pulled her along. They all entered the room and sat at the arranged tables. 

    “My home was in a bad state when I got here. I had to redo the roof, rehab the floors, tatami, shoji… everything needed a re-do.” 

    “Damn.” Sitting back against his chair, he smoothed his hair back behind his ear. It was the longest she’d ever seen, pulled into a small bun. A neat and trimmed beard and mustache adorned his already handsome features. It added just the right amount of ruggedness to him. 

    “You did an amazing job, Ichiro-kun.” Eyes on her, they slipped over to Minato who still gawked at the restored and nostalgic aesthetics of the house. 

    “Thank you.” 

    “Have you asked Riko-chan, Grandma Yasu, and Yukio-kun to bless the space?” Junko asked, eyes kind and gentle. 

    “I have. Their altars are in the other room.” Pleased with his answer, she sat back with a smile. 

    “You are all more than welcome to stay for the night. I have to go into town and gather some extra rice.” 

    “I’ll go with you.” She piped up, clutching her hands together. 

    “Actually, I think it’d be best for Minato to go with him, Bea. In case they end up buying more than just rice.” Aunt Junko spoke up, laying a hand on top of hers. Inquisitive eyes met the older woman but he didn’t say a word, just gave a nod of agreement. 

    “I won’t be long, Bea.”

    “Let’s go while it’s still early,” Minato said, lifting to stand. He soon stood himself. And like that, the women were now alone. 

    “Beatrice,”

    “Yes, Auntie Junko?”

    “He’s going to stop by Aichi Temple and request a priest to marry you. You must prepare for him, my dear.” 

 

***     

 

    Indeed I had. Minato and I stopped by the temple and offered prayers at the shrine of love and marriage. All around there to protect the deities were two erect penises, one of stone and the other of iron. Bowing my head, I prayed to the goddess of fertility to bless Beatrice’s womb, that she grant her health. It had been foretold by that Buddhist monk that she and I would be blessed with many children and it was my duty to ensure that she was well cared for. 

    As we spent time amongst the trees, sunlight, and air, we were greeted by a kannushi. 

    “Inugami,” At once his body grew stiff and throat tight. Looking up at the man, he found himself unable to speak. 

    “You wish to wed a kitsune. And you are here to petition the other gods for their blessings.” The man had a bright light that shined around him and it nearly blinded him. He dropped his eyes. Minato bowed low before him in reverence.  

    “You needn’t petition others when you, yourself, hold the divine power of two. Whatever you wish to have, it will be so. Should your fox desire children, so she shall have them aplenty.” He inhaled through his nostrils but otherwise kept silent. The man took slow steps towards him and lifted a hand to lay upon his back. 

    “The battle within you must have been hard. You are born of inu and okami. Both protectors, both wild and yet one more rabid than the other. You have begun the journey for balance and peace within.” It felt as though the man touched his very soul and he allowed him, closing his eyes. 

    “They will coexist with one another. They’ll work together.” 

    “Harmony…with the kitsune.” He breathed out, letting his eyes open. The man removed his hand and he stood once more, hands together tightly in fists. 

    “Her playful nature will never cease. But, she will submit to you. With years, she will increase with wisdom and calmness.” The otherworldly gaze pierced him. 

    “I shall do as you wish. Please, follow me to the registry.” The mere presence of the man had beads of sweat lining his temples and Minato gave him a serious and firm nod as he followed him into the temple. 

 

*** 

 

    As we returned home, my chest grew tight and I felt like I was going to vomit. Heaving there on the side of the road, Minato observed as I gasped, coughing and spitting the bitter taste of bile from my mouth. Later, he told me that he could see the spirits melding around me. I felt as though I was not myself and denied dinner, to Beatrice’s dismay. The entire night, I wrestled and tossed, caught in the throes of night sweats and heat. My dreams were strange. In them, a wedding procession occurred along the roads that led up into the mountains. In a time long long ago. Feet traveled and the smell of incense sweetly caressed the air. Instruments played odes of celebration and thanksgiving. 

    Bodies of foxes moved in uniform, anointed in kimono of miko and kannushi, that of samurai behind and flanking the sides. The view spanned what seemed like miles and I could see humans peeking out through the trees. The smell of incense grew stronger and I was thrust into a different lens. There in the middle of it I stood but I didn’t look like myself. My hair was white and long, traveling down my back. My eyes a pale amber yellow. My ears were pointed and elongated, like that of a dog.

     I wore a ceremonial kimono, colors of a house I was not familiar with. Crimson, chrysanthemum, and white. I turned to my left and there Beatrice was, dressed in shiromuku. The maidens around her were foxes and yet she retained a human form. Her beauty stunned me. Thick red paint lined her eyebrows and further down on her eyelids and waterline, creating a sharp fox-like appearance. There between her eyes, a delicate flower had been painted. Her lips were adorned with more of the color and they smiled. Gold kanzashi peeked down from underneath her covering, displaying her deified status. Reaching for my hand, she turned her eyes forward, the light of day now turning to dusk. Lanterns were now lit with fire and they glowed, floating a path of light in the darkness. 

    

 

*** 

 

    Groaning, he turned on his side, his skin sweaty. His eyes opened suddenly and he panted for air. He felt as though the heat would burn him alive. Shivering in the coolness of the morning, he lifted the covers he must have kicked off up and around him. He was soaked head to toe in sweat and his vision was slightly blurry with tears. Every night, he’d been dreaming the same dream. Some nights, they’d turn into the twisted forms drawn in the shunga and he’d wake with cum all over his blankets. Lifting an arm to shield his eyes from the sun, he breathed in slow, trying to steady and center himself.  

    “I’ll wash your futon when you are away.” Jumping up, he turned to see Aunt Junko peeking in from a crack in the shoji. 

    “A-Aunt Junko..ah…”

    “Don’t be embarrassed, Ikki-chan. The gods are giving you their blessing. You have shifted, that’s all.”

    “Shifted?”

    “Yes.” He covered himself up more and sat up, skin itchy. 

    “And Beatrice? Has she shifted?” 

    “I believe she has, yes.” The older woman bowed her head. 

    “In a few days’ time, the priest will come. Are you ready to take her as your wife?” 

    “I’ve been ready.” Junko smiled but otherwise said nothing else, sliding the shoji closed, leaving him in silence and privacy. Allowing his nagajuban to fall down his shoulders and away from his body, he lifted up and slid open the adjacent shoji, an outdoor tub waiting with freshly pulled water. At last, what he’d most wanted would be reality. Where once was filth, now, the two of them could birth something beautiful.

End Notes:

 

A/N: OOF I love this chapter! The imagery, the detail... it's lush and vivid. Wow. Gorgeous hehe. They are soon and sooner to be married hehehe. As I stated a chapter or so back, erect male organs were seen to protect the gods/goddesses of fertility so it makes sense they make their appearance here. I think it's powerful that he dreamt of himself (perhaps in his spirit form) and of Beatrice getting married. In what's known as a Fox Wedding or Kitsune no yomeiri. If y'all wanna read more about this interesting part of folklord, here's a cool article about it! https://hyakumonogatari.com/2013/07/19/kitsune-no-yomeiri-the-fox-wedding/ 

 

depiction of fox wedding: 

**important tip for next chapter is that it is said that when it rains while sunny out that it is a procession going on.** 

 

Since we've been talking about inugami (dog gods/ dog spirits) my inspiration for Ichiro's spirit form/dream form is none other than my baby daddy, the one and only, nice try and so sad to all the other dudes out there, Sesshomaru from Inuyasha LOL. I've loved him since middle school baby. lol. WHEW. Somebody make me an anime character so I can marry this dude lol. 

I realized that I unintentionally modeled some of Ichiro's mannerisms off of Sesshomaru (welp lol here we are)  

Look at this hottie *starts sobbing* 

さんじゅうさん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjuusan 


thirty-three 


 


** GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT, LANGUAGE AND SUBJECT MATTER. PLEASE BE ADVISED** 


this is the moment y'all grab y'all raincoats and umbrellas cause it's bout to be a rain storm lol 

 

 

    Kannushi went forward in a single file line, followed by shinshoku and miko in twos. A chime tingled through the air, alerting passerby. Eyes and bodies gathered, watching as the seemingly endless array of attendants and those presumed to be family followed, each dressed in appropriate celebratory kimono. The villagers marveled at the bride and groom, who walked underneath a massive red fan. 

    “Oh, she’s not Japanese.” 

    “She’s beautiful though,” Whispering amongst themselves, they couldn’t help but feel happy. They recognized the groom as one of their own. Matsuda Ichiro. Son to the town hero, Matsuda Yukio. Those who watched knew what had become of his mother and it pleased them to see members of their community step up to represent his family. He’d been away for so long but how he was welcomed and celebrated upon his return. He appeared stoic and serious, his foreign dark-skinned bride demure yet nervous. 

    “He’s given so much for us. It is thanks to his protection that we are alive and well.” 

    “Banzai!” One or two sets of arms lifted. 

    “Banzai!” The young man turned emotionless eyes towards them, as more of them lifted their arms. Soon a small resounding ‘banzai’ spread through the crowd and it was then that the village son broke through his stoicism, a small smile spreading onto his face. Gripping the hand of the miko tighter, she glanced up at Ichiro. His smile spread to show his teeth and she returned it with one of her own. They turned their eyes forward and into Aichi Temple they went, soon disappearing from view. 

    Standing at the entrance of the temple, they lifted their hands, accepting purified water to be poured across them. Bowing before the shrine, all gave reverence. Coming to the two of them, the priest handed them both a small pouch, its contents unknown. Together, the two of them went up and laid the offerings down at the feet of the gods. Finding it acceptable, the priest stepped inside and so, the groom and bride entered after him.

    The kannushi stood at the entrance, gatekeeper of passage. Letting his eyes drift across all those who had attended, he declared in the still silence, 

    “Matsuda Ichiro, the inuzami, and the okami have chosen your bloodline. Your father, a willing vessel of the inuzami, brought great honor to the gods. They are pleased that you have followed in his path.” He spoke not, with the help of two shinshoku performed a bow to the floor in seikeirei. 

    “You desire to marry this woman, a woman from a faraway land. The kitsune have taken favor of her.” The both of them remained quiet, both bowed. 

    “What is the name she will offer to the gods?” 

    “Inoue Masami.” Aunt Junko answered, head down. In a loud voice, the kannushi spoke again. 

    “The groom, Matsuda Ichiro, and the bride, Inoue Masami enter the temple!” To the announcement, everyone bowed as the two of them stepped past the threshold. He could hear his heartbeat inside of his ears but kept a constant flow of breath in and out of his nostrils. To a small platform nearest the altar they stood. The tingling of the bell was hypnotic and the incense proved to fill the space with an earthy yet pleasant smell. Pouring the sanctified sake, they were given the cups, each varying in size. Lifting the cup twice to the lips, the third time, they each took a drink. 

    Placing the cups down, she watched as Ichiro cleared his throat and turned to face her. In his hands had been placed a scroll. Lifting it, he opened it and amidst the tinkling of the bells,  read what was contained on the parchment. 

    “Beatrice, I vow before the gods that with my love and devotion, I shall provide a safe, happy, and harmonious home and life for you and our generations to come. I shall till the earth until I strike fertile dirt with the work of my hands. You shall have me as your faithful husband until the end of our married life and I humbly beseech the gods to grant us passage together into the afterlife. This I pledge before you now and infinitely.” Said in English first, he repeated every word in his native tongue, using her newly given Japanese name. Taking a shaky breath, she was handed her scroll and with a soft voice, read her vow, feeling thousands of eyes cut into her. 

    “Ichiro, I vow before the gods that I shall embody yamato nadeshiko. With patience, humility, and benevolence, I promise to love and support you with a gentle hand and a kind voice. I vow to remain virtuous, full of grace, and faithful to you for the rest of my days. I pledge to you now and indefinitely to give you my heart, mind, and body always. May we be granted passage into the afterlife together.” Junko and Etsuko stood teary-eyed as they finished their vows. The head miko then stepped forward, handing them the sakaki branch. Together, they laid it down upon the altar, the tingling of the bells seemed to confirm its action. 

    “Should the groom and his bride wish to exchange rings, now is the time.” From either side, a miko and shinshoku silently stepped forward, providing a simple ring band, melted from iron and plated with gold leaf. He felt proud knowing that he had made them by his own hand and taking the smaller one, reached for her hand. The engagement ring had been removed beforehand and her tiny finger provided a clean slate. Sliding the ring up onto her finger, he was given the engagement ring which soon joined the other. She took the larger one and did the same.  Hands joined together, they turned and bowed. Roaring applause filled the temple and the two of them smiled against one another, foreheads and noses pressed together. 

 

 

*** 

 

    That day was a day that I’ve never forgotten about. I don’t think that I can remember a time when I’d been that happy. In my heart, a part of me felt bittersweet that my mother and father were not there to celebrate with me. But, I felt assured of their watchful gaze and from the depths of my core, knew that they in their way gave their blessing by way of sunshine in the horizon. It had started to rain while in the temple and with the sudden spray of sunlight, lips smiled and laughter joked that it was because I had married a kitsune. I too found it funny that such an occurrence happened. I didn’t find it to be a trick. No, I felt the sun on my face and took it as a sign from my mother, father, and grandmother. The rays seemed to say, well done Ikki. 

    As we traveled home, travelers and passersby threw up dirt in celebration with wishes and prayers for harvest in our lives. I held her hand tightly to me, glancing down at the look of bittersweet joy on her face. She too felt the same. Her mother was so far from her and so was the rest of her family. I knew in her deepest heart’s desires that she would have wanted her brother to give her away in their father’s absence. Nearing our mon, I helped her step up onto the platform and let go of her hand. She withdrew into the house with Etsuko and Aunt Junko. At the doorway, I made yet another vow. Whatever she wanted, I would give it to her in and to the best of my ability. I knew that she wanted a wedding in America so I would honor her family and her beliefs with a Christian wedding. It was the least I could do. 

    She emerged into the great room in a vibrant red and white thousand crane kimono. Her hair had been fashioned into a tasteful updo, a thick abundant cloud. Dainty kanzashi adorned her crown, a white, gold, and green jade sakura placed there just above her left ear. And another to lay across the whole of her bun, a long rigid piece that dangled, catching the light. A slim plain comb at the top of her head and a smaller floral arrangement just in front of the comb. Lips painted in red, she took my breath away. I couldn’t speak, not even with sake. She’d rendered me mute. 

 

*** 

 

    

    “Cat got your tongue, Ichiro-kun?” Minato teased, slapping him on the shoulder. Grinning, he watched as his friend moved not, eyes still staring at his new bride. 

    “Leave him be.” Aunt Junko scolded him with a soft knock on his head. 

    “Don’t be timid, Beatrice. Come, join us.” Cheeks warm, she tried to swallow her spit and not choke as she sat down next to him. His eyes on her made her nervous. 

    “You’re scaring her. Loosen up.” Etsuko said, lifting a cup of sake to her mouth. He blinked and cleared his throat, finally finding his eyes drawn away. 

    “Let’s eat and get drunk! I’m ready to celebrate for real!” The loud intoxicated declaration from Minato made them all laugh and the two of them lifted cups of their own, gently toasting one another before consuming the potent spirit. 

 

*** 

 

    The celebration ended late and she’d withdrawn first. Junko had followed her and joined her in the bedroom. The older woman watched as she paced the room, fingers pinching the skin on her hands. 

    “Beatrice…dear…”

    “I shouldn’t be this nervous.”  Coming to her, she took her hands and caused them to be still. 

    “It’s healthy to be nervous, dear.”

    “It’s not the first time I’ve had sex…” Letting go of her hands, she lifted one of her own to breeze the pretty kanzashi that decorated her hair. 

    “No, it’s not. But this is the first time you’ll experience pleasure.” The young woman’s cheeks grew flushed. 

    “This is the first time you will take him into your body and hold him near. The first time you will feel your body express the love that is in your heart.” The woman’s eyes began to tear and she withdrew her hand. 

    “I know it’s been hard. Being away from your mother. The distance tears at you.”

    “I chose to go with him… I chose to leave her behind…” 

    “No, my child. You didn’t choose to leave her behind. You chose to make your own way. You chose to follow your heart. As a woman, she can understand that.” The woman sniffled and lifted hands to wipe her tears. 

    “Ichiro can feel your heartbreak and he will make it right. Trust in him.” Allowing the woman to hug her, she lifted her arms to hug her back, tightly. 

    “Thank you Auntie Junko…for being exactly what I need.” 

    “I always will be, sweet one.” Pulling away from her, she smiled warmly. 

    “Now, I can share with you a little something I picked up from my travels to France many many years ago. I never had the courage to wear it for my husband but, I imagine you might have just a tad bit more than I.” 

 

*** 

 

    It was nerve-wracking. Standing outside of our now shared room. It was silly to think that after all this time and everything we’d been through, I’d be here nearly shitting my pants. I’d removed the ceremonial kimono and traded it for a much more comfortable yukata. I stood outside for a moment more before pulling aside the shoji. It was eerily quiet as I stepped in and for a moment, I wondered if Beatrice had gone to bed. Softly closing the shoji behind me, I took a step or two forward, keeping my steps as light as possible, given the heavy prosthesis. 

    Entering the second inner room, I froze. Ice and heat covered my body from head to toe and my mouth gaped open. Beatrice wasn’t asleep by any means. No, she stood by an open window, the scene of her standing amongst nature still stays with me today. What covered her body was gauzy and sheer and there with the moon and starlight caressing the curves of her body, I felt a deep hunger stab me. She began to remove the dark blue robe but it failed in shielding her decadent little body from my gaze. Just as she reached up to pull the other sleeve free, she glanced back. That glance sent me into a frenzy. 

 

*** 

 

     She swore that her heart was going to burst through her chest at any moment. His gaze drifted down her body appreciatively. 

    “I wasn’t sure that you were still awake,” He spoke quietly, his big boxy frame drawing nearer. She shivered as the fingers of one of his hands skimmed her back. 

    “I was waiting for you.” She replied, voice soft. He didn’t reply to that, his hand slipping up and underneath the robe. With a light touch, he pulled the remainder of it down and away from her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips kissed her on the neck, slow and languid. Eyes fluttering closed, she released the breath she’d been holding as his other palm met her waist. Relaxing against him, she hummed as his tongue followed the line of her neck upward, lips pulling the skin into his mouth. Breath panting, she bit her lip as he gently took the skin of her jaw between his teeth. Every touch and kiss, his very breath electrified her and it seemed to quiet the fear that ate at her. She wanted more. She needed more. 

    His hands lifted from her waist and gently pulled one of the kanzashi free from her hair. Skin flushed with heat, she remained still as he took his time, one by one the beautiful decorations rustling as they hit the floor. At long last, her hair tumbled down her back. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, he turned, burying his face against her strands. Turning in his arms, she welcomed the press of his forehead against hers, their hands entwining. Pulling her the short distance forward, once more she was flush against him. 

    Lifting their hands upward, he let hers go to wrap around his neck. He followed the curves of her body, down her back, the dip of the small of her back. Hands loose, his palms stuck to her derriere, heat burning. Up above, they shared another kiss and another. Taking her by the jaw, he brought her gaze to his. 

    “I’m ready this time, Papa…” She breathed, eyes filled with unashamed desire and longing. His gaze searched her for any such inkling of deceit, nostrils slightly flared. When he could find none, he let her go. Her touch glided down his chest and fell to the knot tying it closed. Loosening the tie, she laid open palms against warm pectorals. Finally, he lifted her up into his arms, turning to wordlessly head towards their marriage bed. 

 

 

*** 

 

 

 

    I took my time laying her down. For the longest time, I just stared down at her, fearful that if I blinked, she’d disappear. Those fucking eyes of hers, dark and sultry looked up at me just the same, the desire within them shameless. I wanted to take her by the throat, force her to open her mouth, and shove my aching length in. The provocative and teasing defiance on her face made me want to fuck her into submission. Soon. I repeated the word over and over again like a mantra as I struggled not to just rip the thin gauzy material to shreds. I remember my hands shaking as they touched her and I gripped them at her waist to stop them. It wasn’t nervousness that consumed me anymore. It was a voracious hunger that spread from my stomach to my balls like a warm sharp tear. Looking now at all that was mine, I slowly went in for the kill. 

    My brain was muddled and I tried to remember everything…anything from that fucking shunga on how to start… where to go first. Giving up, I decided that it was best to let my body choose where. Those dark little nipples seemed a good place and with my lips, I gently kissed one, her inhale of breath sharp. The other I paid the same respect. 

    Lifting up, I was thirsty for her lips and took them against my own. Laying my hands now flat against her breasts, I made no move to squeeze or pinch. Letting my hands conform to the shape of them, I simply enjoyed the smooth heavy feel of them. I noticed the change in her kisses the longer I touched them. They were more sensual and open. Trusting. It was the trust that made my heart and stomach flutter. I had done it. I’d proven to her that I was worthy to be trusted. I’d proven to myself that I was worthy of having and receiving her trust. Tongues now softly gliding against one another, I ever so gently squeezed them.

 

 

***

 

 

    Her breath now openly panted and she arched her back as his lips gently sucked underneath her breast. Teeth now taking some of the flesh in between them, he wetly trailed his tongue up the side. By now, her nipples ached, tight, and engorged with so much blood it kinda hurt. He’d managed to evade them completely, opting to tease her areolas with a light finger. He’d placed love marks here and there across the two of them, some tiny, others bruised and big.   Her nether regions tingled and convulsed with need and his playing was driving her crazy. Half of her wanted to beg him but she bit the inside of her cheek. She was still too defiant yet to beg. 

    As a reward for her patience, he finally gave her what she wanted, lifting his hands to push her breasts up into a larger mound of soft pliant fat. With a broad flat tongue, he licked them one at a time side to side, pulling them into his mouth for a tiny suck. Moaning softly, she arched her back once more as he swirled around them, the warm wet on her sensitive areola maddening. Her body trembled and she found herself breathless at the pleasure slowly killing her. She wasn’t sure how much more of it she could handle. Her triangle was soaked with arousal and she felt a sharp heat that spread across her stomach, growing more and more intense the more he kept on. 

    “Ichiro…” She moaned weakly, reaching for his hands. At once, he looked up at her, wetly letting her nipple pop free from his mouth. 

    “Too much?” He asked, thumbs now massaging them. Giving a weak nod, she panted as he loosened his hold and let go of her breasts. Coming to lay on his side, his hands now reached to pull her against him. She lifted a palm to rest against his chest, breath heavy. 

    “I’m being overzealous.” Lifting her face, she shook her head. 

    “It ain’t that at all…I…I like what you’re doin’.” His cheeks now were the cutest shade of pink but his eyes were oh so intense. He let his hand drift down from her back and grabbed a cheek of her derriere. 

    “You’re makin’ me feel real good, baby.” She breathed against his mouth, accepting a kiss. 

    “Am I?” He hummed against her mouth, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth. 

    “Mmhm.” Coming to lay on her back, she pulled loose the tie holding his hair up and it cascaded down gloriously, teasing her ribcage as he leaned down to kiss her. He withdrew his hands from her completely, lifting to sit up. His yukata was still on but it had gaped open, allowing her to see his beautiful body. Licking her lips, she watched as he ran fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. The collar now hanging down across his broad shoulders, the muscles in his back rippled and flexed as he reached to pull his prosthesis upward at the knee.       

     Slowly, she sat up and came to press herself against him, arms around his neck. He kept quiet as her lips kissed his neck.  Lips now in a smile as she pressed her nose against him and inhaled. He began to unfasten the wooden leg. Tiny hands slowly coaxed the yukata down his biceps and he lifted his arms out of it, now just as naked as she was. Her kisses on his back turned into tiny little nibbles and it turned him the fuck on. Loosening the leather laces to the brace, he slowly eased his stump out of the holder. A breath of relief left him and he tossed it away, the heavy piece of shit clattering against the floor. He hated that prosthesis. It hurt to leave it on for more than a couple of hours at a time and he'd much rather just use his cane. 

    He closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch, the tiny teeth that bit into him, the soft lips that kissed him. Her hands slipped down from his pectorals and lightly grazed his abdomen. Tongue softly teasing his ear lobe, he leaned his head back against her with a breathy sigh. Down and further still her hand inched and his gaze watched her fingertips gently touch his erect length. Shy and unsure, she didn’t fully grasp him. Her touch was nervous and curious and he let her explore. Spreading his legs wider, he observed as she traced the shape and mass of his head with a lone finger, following the underside of it. He inhaled sharply and exhaled much slower as now it trailed the many twists and turns of the veins housed on his shaft.

    “Hm.” Her voice vocalized and further down the meat of it she teased. 

    “Something wrong?” He asked, voice quiet and calm. 

    “It’s kinda beautiful.” Smirking, he turned his eyes to the side to look at her. 

    “Kind of?”

    “You know my experience with these things. They’ve always been real ugly to me.” Now, she grasped, wrapping her fingers around the whole of him. 

    “But yours looks really pretty to me.” He was about to reply but his thoughts went to shit when she started stroking him. A louder breath left his throat, a mix of a sigh and a hiss. Not too fast, still just teasing. Still just feeling and exploring. 

    “It’s got a curve in it like a banana… I like bananas.” 

    “Beatrice,” His voice growled, gasping as she started increasing her speed. 

    “Am I doin’ it right?” Reaching down, he brought her hand to a stop. With his free hand, he reached up and grabbed her chin. 

    “You’re doing it perfectly, sweetheart.” Her tawny cheeks blossomed in color and he pulled her mouth to his, kissing her deeply. 

    “Take your time. Build pressure.” 

    “Build pressure?” Now guiding her hand, he began to stroke himself again, almost torturously slow. Panting against her mouth, he moved their hands upward to rub the head. 

    “Like that….just like that.” He breathed, voice shuddering. She was at a loss for words and she squeezed her thighs together behind him. Pleasure softened the frown lines of his mouth and it grew slack and gaped open. His teeth bit into his bottom lip and when his half-lidded eyes opened to meet hers only to roll back again, she felt herself grow even more moist between her legs. They’d picked up the speed now and the once small sound now produced a louder faster noise from their hands, skin against skin. His breath was hard now, moans gruff and soft now escaping within them.

     With a firm stroke, he stopped their movement, gripping her hand. God, he was perhaps the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on, the blush in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears and down in the lightest shade to just under his jaw. All of it matched the pretty and threatening colors of his shaft, the mushroom-shaped head a deeper pink. He let his hand fall away from her chin and released her hand from around his twitching length. 

    “Too much?” She mirrored his question of earlier, heat creeping on her neck when he chuckled. 

    “Not enough,” At her half-shocked-half aroused expression, he licked his lips. 

    “Lie back down.” Pleased that she didn’t argue or protest and her back once more met the futon, he once again laid to the side of her, fingers now in her hair. 

    “Are you tired?” 

    “Nuh uh.” Tracing dizzying little circles against her back, he pressed his lips against her forehead. 

    “How do you feel?” His question made her sigh against his chest. 

    “I feel…unsatisfied.” Turning his eyes down at her, he ever-so-slightly tightened his grip of her hair. 

    “Do you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “How can I satisfy you?”

    “You can touch me.” 

    “Touch you where?” One of her legs lifted up and across his hip, giving him a very clear sign. Softening his fingers, he let them slide away from her hair and down her back. 

    “You haven’t answered my question.” 

    “Yes, I did.”

    “No. You haven’t.”

    “Down…down there….” Chuckling at her embarrassment, he pecked the top of her nose. 

    “Don’t make fun of me…” Making her pouty lips squish together, he openly laughed now, making her cut her eyes at him. 

    "Any other time you have so much to say.” Grinning, he pressed his lips against her smushed ones. 

    “Use your words. Where do you want me to touch you?” She mumbled something and he loosened his grip on her cheeks. 

    “What was that?”

    “B-Between my…my legs.” Letting go completely, his gaze darkened, filling with ravenous desire. 

    “That’s better.” He whispered against her mouth, a seductive smirk on his face. Reaching down, he grabbed the leg she’d strewn across his hip. With no effort at all, he lifted and pushed it back, hand firm underneath her knee. 

 

*** 

 

    Beatrice had the prettiest pussy. Her mound, covered in thick tight coils. There a bit further down laid her clitoris, the engorged little bud that I couldn’t wait to lick and suck. The shape of her outer lips were puffy, soft, and hairless, unlike that of her mound. Thin pink fleshy inner lips spanned the whole of her sex, opening up towards the bottom to reveal a gorgeous little brownish-pink entrance. Like a ripe white peach that leaked its juice when you bit into it, her sex glistened with her nectar, shiny and slick on her inner thighs. Though I hadn’t touched her much, already she showed her excitement in abundance. Looking at her slit made my mouth water. I wanted to be transported back to summer days and hot sticky nights with her taste.

 

*** 

 

    He pressed his face against her mound and inhaled her for what seemed like the thousandth time. Sweet and musky, her scent was mouth-watering. Opening his mouth, he let his breath hush against her, and from that, she squirmed. Lifting his face, he pressed kisses against her, tiny little ones, here and there. He began his descent and the lower he got, the intensity of her smell grew. Using his lips, he kept his touch extra light as he kissed her clitoris. A greeting of sorts, it caused her to inhale sharply. 

    Turning away from it completely, he allowed his tongue to lick her inner thighs, as close to the apex of her thigh as he could get before pulling away. Bucking against his face, she rubbed more of her silky and slightly sweet taste against him and he greedily licked it up, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh. Pulling at it gently, he sucked until a pale red mark was left in its wake. 

    Admiring his handiwork, he licked his lips, glancing up at her. Hands left her waist and traveled up to her breasts, giving them a soft squeeze. Now back down to her thighs again, he held them apart at the knees as far as they could go, taking in her spread open sex. 

    “Beautiful.” The word was simple but he released it as a gruff rasp and it sent chills up her spine. He wasted no more time, lowering to devour her. With one last kiss of grace, he adorned her outer lips with open-mouth pecks before taking the whole of them into his mouth. She moaned openly, the pressure from his lips, sending sweet shocks of pleasure zipping up her body. Wiggling her hips, she dug her nails into the palm of her hands, willing herself to breathe somewhat normally.

     Opening her eyes, she drifted them down. The sight of him running the flat of his tongue up across her slit made her buck up, back arched. It was strange to hear the sounds that came from between her legs, soft wet sucking, and breath. Letting go of the futon beneath her, she drifted them down and into his hair. Even stranger the sweet-sounding moans that he invoked but she couldn’t help herself…couldn’t quiet herself even if she wanted to. The soft wet warmth of his tongue narrowed now and flicked her clitoris once, twice, and again, circling it. His lips closed around the erect little bud and he latched on with firm and soft sucks, following the swivel of her hips. 

    “Ichiro,” She whined, hands now fisting his hair. His own relaxed against her thighs and he separated from her clitoris with a soft groan, the vibration rippling through her. Lifting up on his biceps, he kissed, licked, and bit his way up her body, her gasping for air soon brought to an abrupt end as he inhaled every bit of it, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Slipping a hand from her hair back down and underneath her hips, he played with her sensitive slit, a finger light as it teased down the length of it. 

    “Mmm…”  Nearly black with arousal, his eyes watched her face contort as he teased her wet little opening with the tip of his finger. 

    “Do you like when I touch you here, sweetheart?” Gently, he brushed her perineum, the soft wet sensation making her fist his hair again. With a loud wail, her hips lifted off of the futon. 

    “Oh!” The need and desperation in her face and the way she bit her lips to shreds and pouted them when he pulled away almost made him say fuck it. Again, so close and yet not close enough and up to brush her clitoris with the pad of his thumb. 

    “I like it so much, daddy. Feels so good…” She breathed, his feather light touches against her opening driving her nearly insane. 

    “Put them inside me…please…” Lidded eyes looked up at him. There it was. The beg. Slowly, slipping his finger into her, he honored her request. She bucked up against his hand and her hands fell away from his hair, weakly pressing back against the futon. Fingers now gripping the futon beneath her, her hips begin to roll and sway on their own slowly; trying to draw him in even more. Her channel squeezed his finger with a death grip and he shivered against her, breath soft and warm against her mouth.     

    The thought of her squeezing his cock made him nearly feral. Raw hunger now stared down at her. In a minute, he’d give her something even better than a finger. Following the demand of her body, he started to thrust into her nice and slow. 

    “Ooh… mm…..” Lips taking hers, he surrendered his mouth to her, pleased in the initative of her tongue shyly seeking his. Pausing his finger, he rested it against her, slowly rotating it. She moaned into his mouth and her hips followed his movements, hungry for more. Wetly separating their kiss, he closed his eyes and let his nose trail up her cheek. 

    Already so wet, she trembled and throbbed, her channel still just a bit too tight. He knew once he was inside her, he’d lose his shit. He didn’t want to hurt her…much. Slippery and slick, he enjoyed the sounds her pussy made as it received the pleasure he gave and slid in another digit before stopping again. Her whine humored him just as much as it turned him on. That’s what she deserved, for all the times she’d fucked with him. A slow and torturous orgasm would set her just right.

    Moving his fingers in a small little circle, he slowly stretched them, opening her channel a bit more. Eyes intent on her face, he slowly started to thrust again. Just when her breath started to hike, he’d stop, grinning at her bratty breaths and whimpers. 

    “Ichiro…”

    “Hm?” 

    “Stop playin’.” That grin now deeper, he breathed his next words against her pouted up lips. 

    “Take your punishment and I’ll stop.” After a little while, he started to thrust again, harder than before. She responded so well that with his free hand, he grabbed a soft breast and lifted it up, sucking on her nipple. A soft wet thwap rose between them and he let go of her breast with a quiet pop. Feeling her convulse around his fingers, her moans increased in intensity, growing louder against his chin. Just before she came, he withdrew his fingers, watching at her hips bucked and she gripped the futon for dear life. That pretty little hole of hers, now well teased visibly throbbed, beckoned his shaft. Licking his lips, he took his hand, soaked with her translucent excitement and stroked his aching member. 

    She made the best picture, the best shunga one could ever imagine. The drawings paled in comparison to her trembling little body. Her perfect breasts now showcased his handiwork, pale red blotches there by her nipples, the underside, even there just underneath her underarm. Easing up on his strokes, his eyes took in the relaxed open legs, the glossy nectar now once more covering the whole of her sex and inner thighs. The look in her eyes perhaps was the most arousing thing. Small plump lips panting, she laid beneath him, vulnerable. Willing. Her eyes spoke loud and clear. Have your way with me. Do whatever you want to me. I surrender. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: AND THIS WAS JUST THE BEGINNING. *FALLS INTO A PUDDLE OF GOO* whew. WHEW. I know, y'all. This was almost too much for me to even write LOL. I was like oh. whoa. WHOA. I figured I'd stop here hehehehe for now lol. Let y'al chew on this for a lil bit. OUR BABIES IS MARRIED NIE. LOL. WOO HOO. I think he performed join suhai well huh lol (he ain't even done lawd hammercy he just warming up oh my lawd) 

I hope y'all enjoy y'all week hehe see you soon! 

DL~

 

 Picturessssss hehe: 

Ichiro and Beatrice's wedding kimono at the temple: 

Her kimono change once entering 'her new home' as a 'changed/married' woman:

Bea's hair:

Her hair ornaments:

This spicy lil number Aunt Junko gave her to wear on her wedding night. She KNEW he was gon act up LOL. 

their rings that Ichiro made himself: 

I'ma leave this here. It fits the ENTIRE chapter. 

 

さんじゅうよん by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjuuyon 


thirty-four 


**GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEX WARNING. PLEASE BE ADVISED** 

    The sunlight was just coming up past the horizon when he’d pulled away from the Matsuda house. Fingers tight on the stirring wheel, he got onto the freeway. Last night…wasn’t a mistake. No, not on his end. He hadn’t intended to…she hadn’t intended to. But they did. Over and over again. It had felt so good, so right. The dashboard lit up as a number called him. It was her. Taking a deep breath, he accepted the call. 

    “Morning.” She didn’t reply all at once but he knew she was on the other end. 

    “Listen, Sami… I…I didn’t mean for it to happen.” 

    “Me neither.”

    “I don’t regret it though.” He heard her intake of breath now and got over into the next lane. 

    “You’ve changed Takeru. I don’t know… who you are anymore.” 

    “Guess that makes two of us.” She sighed into the phone. 

    “Maybe you did it because you want to connect with Grandpa more.” Fingers tight again on the stirring wheel, he got over back into the proper lane with a little more force than what was necessary. 

    “No, Asami. I made love to you last night because I’m in love with you. It had nothing to do with your grandfather.” A stunned silence now filled the car. 

    “I’ve always been in love with you. Even after our breakup, you’ve never left my mind, baby girl. Not once.”

    “Take-”

    “You’re in denial. I get that. If you need time to sort it out, just tell me that. I understand.” Again, silence. Without replying, she hung up on him. Feeling his heart pound against his chest, he relaxed his fingers. In silence, he drove, his mind running a million miles a minute. She was afraid. She was so scared to let herself go and jump off the deep end into something real and raw and beautiful. That’s the reason she broke up with him in college. She just couldn’t handle the intensity of her feelings, his feelings, their feelings. 

    He tried to hold on to the person he thought she needed him to be. But not anymore. Getting off of the freeway, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He’d give her as much space as she needed. But, he would stop apologizing for things that he didn’t feel sorry for or regret. Last night was nothing short of magical and he’d wait… he’d be patient until she allowed him to experience her again. 

 

 

*** 

 

 

    Happiness is a fleeting emotion, something that like the waves of the sea toss to and fro. It takes hard work and patience to have enduring happiness. Sure, sex is a natural part of a relationship. But, it should not be the main focus or the main event. After the sweat and cum dries, if you aren’t right for one another, it will never succeed. You cannot force someone to love you or reciprocate your energy. Your energies must be aligned well before you get into bed.

        

*** 

 

    The cat-and-mouse game between them was thrilling and it excited her to learn more about their respective bodies. All the places that brought her pleasure he’d discovered. He’d tasted, licked, sucked… bitten, and marked them until she nearly begged him to stop.  

    In the quiet of the night, she’d discovered some of his places too. He was extremely sensitive on his ears, chest, and stomach. The sight of him trying not to moan out loud as she bit into one of the defined bricks of muscle that lay housed on his belly made her grow more and more aroused between her legs. Hands couldn’t resist slipping down his body, fingers wrapping around his pulsating rod. Slow strokes to it made a glassy liquid gather at the very top. It fascinated her to watch the thin string lift away, clinging to her finger. 

    There, a low gruff sound seemed to come up from his gut and she liked it. It sounded like he wanted to sing. Beautiful and rough, smooth and clear. She wanted his voice to release itself from the prison of his throat. Her touch made the hairs on his body stand up. She’d stopped and looked up at it from between his legs, now spread apart. The desire to want to put her mouth on it stabbed her. It was strange that to her it appeared as a bulging overripe fruit; with one bite into it, the overwhelming sweetness would flood her senses.

    With a deep breath, she ran the flat of her slick little tongue over the veins threading and crisscrossing underneath his skin. All breath, she heard it get caught in his throat as his hips bucked up. Lips now pressing soft kisses against him, she took in the heaving chest, the fingers clawing the futon, the slight pulse of his abdominal muscles. Making her tongue narrow, she traced the shape of him up from the top first, curiously the flesh of his now angry head quivering as she lightly touched it. His fingers now gripped the futon with an almost bruising hold, his head tossed back. Veins in his neck appeared as he clenched his jaw tight. 

    Mouth panting now, he relaxed once more and his grip loosened from the plush padding of the bed. With a feverish gaze, his gorgeous brown eyes glanced down at her there between his legs. Lowering a hand, his fingers grazed the back of her cheek and curled underneath her chin, making her look at him. 

    “I’ve… never done this before…I feel silly…” Her voice was far from confident and she seemed slightly embarrassed. Call it her humble beginnings. His tongue licked his lips and his fingers slid down and across her hair in a breathtaking gesture of tenderness. 

    “Don’t.” Thumb soft, it glided up across her jawline. 

    “Your tongue feels good.” His voice was low and raspy, he smirked. Her cheeks flushed.

    “I can’t wait to put it inside you,” His arousing words gave her courage and assured her that she was making him feel good, continued slowly. Letting her tongue press against the veins on his shaft, she resumed her game, tracing the shape of him. He held on to her chin as she glided down and around the upward curve, closing her lips to kiss and suck it. 

    Grunting once more, he jerked his hips up, pushing the thick mushroom head against her cheek. She felt soaked now between her legs and squeezed them together. She couldn’t wait either. She was curious to know how this pretty banana would feel inside her. Poking her plump little lips out, slowly she drew it into her mouth, tightening slightly with a gentle suck. A breathy hum finally delighted her ears, his timbre so low she barely heard it. Pleased, she allowed more of him into her mouth. Be mindful of your teeth. Etsuko’s voice echoed in her head and she tried her best, given her complete inexperience. 

    Hand now holding him, she enjoyed the way he felt in her palm and lifted, releasing him with a soft solid pop. Moving even further down, she took a moment to admire what was before her. Hairless and smooth, his scrotum was a dusty rose color, the mass gathering of blood making it appear darker, almost purplish-blue. His testicles were oval-shaped and pulled up taut. Gently, she pulled one into her mouth, careful not to squeeze so tightly with her lips, one and then the other. The sensation made his fingers grip her tighter, now moved just underneath her chin. Pulling away, she was too eager to take him back into her mouth and a soft groan answered her. 

    It didn’t take much more or any less, a gentle hand and tongue ushering him closer and closer to the precipice of release. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, his now fluttering stomach and harsh hissing growls. In the exquisite moment of rapture, he allowed a hard breathy groan to rip from his throat, and she voiced her surprise as the warm liquid began filling her mouth. A softer satisfied pant left his chest and she closed her eyes, waiting until the twitching shaft finally relaxed in her fingers. Rolling the slightly salty and sweet around in her mouth, she lifted away from him. Eyes opening, it was no surprise that his were already on her. Sleepy and intense, they watched as she opened her mouth, letting some of the jelly-like substance and saliva slip off of her tongue, choosing the taste was pleasant enough to swallow the rest of it. 

    “God-fucking-dammit, Beatrice.” She grinned, licking the corner of her mouth. 

    “Come here.” 

 

*** 

 

 

    I had long since grown tired of our game. It made me shiver, watching my cum dribble out of her mouth. Another one watching her swallow the rest of it. With her fingers and tongue, she’d broken the seal that restrained my yang energy and now she could devour it to her heart’s content. The desire to paint my pleasure, my worship, my love all over her body hit me like a punch to the gut. The feelings racing through me were foreign and uncomfortable and I had no choice but to let them run their course. That night, I learned a new concept. Love-making. 

 

*** 

 

       Fingers lifted a small golden brown leg upward by the thigh and pulled it back. Bodies pressed flush, each laying on their side. The nighttime had chilled the air slightly but warm skin against another did the two just fine. Here, the height difference between them didn’t matter and they could enjoy what they wanted most, each other. Mouths hungrily claimed each other, lips and tongues a passionate mesh. 

    A singular sound, a female moan filled the quiet room. Down below, his hips created delicious friction, his shaft sliding up and across her slick awaiting slit. Smooth and soft. Bits of pleasure. Choked breath. Limbs tangled up like branches of trees, his sound leg draped across her one and his stump rested comfortable and close against the flesh of her adjacent thigh.       

     Lifting her arms, she encircled his shoulders, reaching up to grasp his hair. She wiggled her hips, pushing more against his shaft as the upturned head caressed her clitoris. Slowly, slipping her tongue past her lips and out to touch air, his lips descended, pulling the pliant muscle into his mouth, sucking on it. 

    Leaning her head up, she returned the action as his tongue soon found itself possessing her mouth. His hand left her thigh, leaving it to hang over and across his steely bicep, and took a breast in his palm. A deep groan vibrated into her mouth and she let one of her own answer in reply. His voice spoke, breathy and quiet, letting his lips fall away and slide down to her jaw. 

    “Give me consent.” His hips stopped gyrating against her. 

    “Give me permission to enter.” Said roughly as commands, there lied a cognizant understanding that at any time in this present moment, she retained the right to deny him. Letting her arms relax against his shoulders, she pulled them away from him completely. Now laying flat on her side, she took the pillows in her hands. 

    “Let this be my invitation, sugar.” He inhaled sharply through his nose as her slick wetness ground against him. Still, he made no move. 

    “I want to feel you inside me. I need to feel you.” That made him release the breath he’d been holding. Access granted, he resumed his grip on her thigh, and with a sharp little tug, he pulled her body closer and up a slight angle, lining up their bodies perfectly. Reaching down, her fingers glided down across the staff once more erect and engorged. Pressing it against the swollen lips of her vulva and labia, she guided it down to her entrance. Letting go, she took a deep breath, eyes focused on his. Without breaking contact, his hips gave a small push. Thanks to her copious wetness, his head slid in with ease but she was impossibly tight. At another small push, a strained whimper from her made him pause. 

    “You’re forcing me out, Bea. Relax.” He hissed, pressing their foreheads together. 

    “Don’t fight me. Let me in.” Voice softer, he gave her a sweet kiss against her mouth. Breathing against his lips, she closed her eyes, head turned slightly, giving him more area to adorn with kisses. That seemed to calm her down and the gentle kisses and licks against her ear lobe helped encourage her inner channel to loosen slightly. 

    “That’s it, sweetheart. Just a little more.” A gasp replied instead of voice as he moved down to her neck. Her hips wiggled a little bit and the friction allowed him in even more. Finally, loose enough that he could complete entry, he pushed one final time, the action bringing forth an arched back, embedded nails into his buttock, and shaky high-pitched cry. Panting against her, he groaned quietly, fingers gripping her thigh with an almost bruising force. Soft wet heat welcomed him in and she conformed to the shape of him like a warm comforting hug. It pained him to withdraw but he did so only to dive back in. 

    She dug her nails even more into his skin as their hips fell into a comfortable uniform rhythm, where once they were disjointed and awkward. Perfect. He felt so perfect. Just right. The fullness she felt was dizzying and the slow, deliberate grinding of his hips against hers made her nearly crazy.

    “Mmm…Ichiro…Oh!” She arched her back as a sudden hard thrust made her crumble. 

    “Say it again.” He rasped against her ear, dark passionate eyes staring down at her. 

    “I-Ichiro…” Nostrils flaring, he began to thrust into her with sudden force, choking her breath from her. Loud and filthy, a lewd thock pierced the air and her wanton moans followed, bitten off by her teeth. A louder unrestrained groan and breath gasped against her and he suddenly came to a stop. 

    Bodies trembling against one another, they basked in their shared ecstasy, impassioned lips, tongue, and teeth making a languid wet mess. A tantalizing groan vibrated against her mouth and she slowly began to circle her hips, eyes rolling back as he followed. 

    Reaching down to grab her hand still there against his buttocks, he lifted it up and around to rest against his neck. Still slow and sweet, their hips fit like puzzle pieces. A broad flat tongue trailed up across her jaw, teeth soon embedding themselves into her skin. Her fingers slid up into his hair and he entwined their fingers just as his hips began to pound into her again.

    “Oh, Goddddd Ichirooo…” Forceful and deep now, she was rendered speechless, her hand fisting the futon underneath them. Rough… broken…sweet…sobbing…Open-mouthed groans and wet fast slapping of flesh produced a heady harmony and they couldn’t escape the impending crescendo that set them both ablaze. Voracious eyes watched in delight as her breasts bounced and bobbed under him and his hand reached for one. Squeezing gently, he let go of her other arm. Pausing for the last time, they stayed still for just a moment. She turned slightly onto her back, her leg now weakly resting over and across his lower abdomen. 

    Her body in a beautiful little arch, he grabbed her waist with a hand and began to violently pummel her, holding her nice and still as he battered her pussy. A scream echoed through the air and he couldn’t stop the short rough growl that left his throat. Delicious. She was the perfect vision of submission, the ultimate manifestation of euphoria. 

     Tears now were in her voice and to his satisfaction, they soon hugged the corners of her eyes. Pleasure suffocated her and her helpless sobs made his stomach and balls grow tight. Fingers now slid down in between her legs, determined to give her her reward for being so obedient. Drenched and sticky, he brushed her clitoris with a slippery finger. A whimper, moan and tears now pushed past their limit slipped down her cheeks. Rubbing just as fast as he fucked, he felt her channel flutter and pulsate, a sign she was so close to her release. He felt the heat rip through his belly, knowing that he too was not too far behind her. Leaning down, he licked and kissed her tears. 

    “Cum for me, Bea…” He groaned, glad that it didn’t take long for her body to obey him.  Her orgasm shattered her with a cry of rapturous abandon. She went still, back arched as spurts of clear liquid erupted from her, saturating his thighs and scrotum. Wheezing in the air, she grew slack, hips bucking. The sight of her squirting took him over the edge and he came with a loud wordless moan. Soft moans breathed against him as the warmth of his semen filling her spread throughout her nether regions. He pulled out of her, sleepy eyes turned downward to take her in. Well, fuck. Pressing a kiss against her lips, he bit into her bottom lip. 

    “Mm baby…” She mumbled voice slurred as if she was drunk. 

    “Hm?” 

    “I…Ipeedonyou…” Lips grinning, he sighed contently against her chest. 

    “I liked it. ” She weakly pushed him and he began to chuckle tiredly, pulling her flush. Lifting his sound leg, he laid it across her hip and she accepted a kiss. Arms wrapped her up in a safe little cocoon and she sighed against him. Eventually, the two of them fell into a deep sleep.

 

***

 

    That was the first night in a long time when I had no nightmares. Sleep found me easy, and Beatrice and I lived forever in my dreams. It was the strangest thing, to dream of stepping into different worlds and times. Each time, we laughed and enjoyed ourselves… enjoyed each other. There was no such thing as war. No such thing as pain or heartbreak. Just the two of us, our happiness was infinite. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Hello my loves hehehe. How have your weeks been? I hope good hehe. Well, I kinda left y'all on a cliffy last week and the three-chapter update I have for you all is full of spice, everything nice and some that isn't hehe. Because this is the only time in the work that I will write intercourse between them in this explicit manner, we have three chapters of it LOL. Quite unusual for me, I think. I normally write... more LOL. But with Bea and Ichiro, once seemed enough. Effective. One goooood time (or three in this case but still kinda one LOL) ANYWHOO. 

If Takeru Ito doesn't chill on that whole baby girl, (got a baby face but is a total hottie), I KNOW SOMETHIN LOL. In a way, it's almost like Takeru and Asami find themselves in the same boat Ichiro and Bea once did. They love each other but well clearly on Asami's part more than Takeru's they are in denial. I love that he's willing to wait until she sorts things out. Their night together was out of this world and he doesn't regret a single thing (HOT.) as he shouldn't hehe. Our Takeru's character development is staggering isn't it lol. He went from a shy scaredy cat to a whole confident assertive man. (OOF. HOT). 

Now, let's switch gears and talk about our main couple. Can I just say that I absolutely love these whole three chapters? It's vulnerability. It's raw. Real. Gritty and rough. Beautiful. Wild. Surrender and submission. Trust. Ichiro and Beatrice Matsuda née Jones were the two LEAST LIKELY PEOPLE THAT YOU EVER WOULD HAVE EXPECTED TO GET TO THIS POINT BUT HERE THEY ARE.

Here, they've grown. They've learned. Matured. What made me emotional was that... the very man who hated her, could have at any moment used, abused, and destroyed her body, her life...allowed himself and his heart to love her, accept her, and cherish her. They understand each other as no one else could, they went through the same hell, the same pain, heartbreak, and ruin. And yet, the two of them have in my opinion come full circle hehe. 

They used to hurt each other but now, now they love, adore, and trust one another. Now, they exist in a tender vulnerability and overwhelming intimacy. I just adore them. Their moments as you will read are so very special. It means so much more than just smut or erotica. These are two people who deserve every bit of pleasure they give one another and share together. 

I hope you enjoy the chapters hehe. I will be going on another small writing break from this piece. I have an idea of what I would like to write next after this work is completed but I'll save it for a later date hehe. I have not forgotten about Yeonwang or Delphine, for those that are asking hehe. If you've been with me for a while and are familiar with the way I create, then y'all already know LOL. If not, then, hi! I'll make the disclaimer that I do not, under any circumstances, FORCE my writing. Not for an update. Not because you want an update. Under NO circumstances. This also applies to my older works (that I have verbally confirmed that I will complete or continue). With that said, thank you so much for understanding. 

Please leave me your thoughts, comments, and things hehe. 

sincerely yours and Godspeed, 

DL~

さんじゅうご by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjuugo 


thiry-five 


**GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL INTERCOURSE, LANGUAGE) 

 

 

 

She woke first, twilight still darkening the sky. A heavy leg trapped her and a healthy heart beat against her ear. She listened to the sounds of his breath in sleep, the deep rise and fall of his chest against her. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept this good. Nights back at Mukden were riddled with nightmares and some nights, he wouldn’t sleep at all, he’d sit in his chair and smoke until he was out of cigarettes. 

    Lifting her head, she felt a soft smile come to her face. He looked so young when he slept. His brow was smooth and unworried. His full kissable lips were parted slightly, air drawn in slow and relaxed. She watched as he pulled away from her to lie on his back. Needing his warmth, she inched closer until they were flush again, her hand curled against his stomach. She closed her eyes, listening now to the distant birdsong that seemed to paint the early morning with life. 

    She’d flown with the birds last night, she’d spread her wings and soared high above the earth it seemed. It didn’t make any logical sense how a man could make a woman feel…like that. Biting her lip sharply, she turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. There was something definitely spiritual about their love making… something holy. Her fingers slid down her stomach and rested there against her womanhood. She felt a little bit sore but…she wanted to take him inside her again. And again. Cheeks warm, she dared to dip a finger into her still sticky and dewy tenderness. Her tiny ones paled in comparison to his bigger thicker ones. God, the way they had made her feel. The image of his tongue and lips hungrily helping themselves to her made her pinch her thighs together and she removed the little bit of the finger she’d inserted. 

    The morning light began to shift and the house was quiet except for the occasional slide of shoji that let her know they weren’t completely alone. What if they had heard her last night? Oh God… she’d die from embarrassment. Ichiro though, she knew he wouldn’t care. He never cared. He lived in the moment, something that the war had taught him. Something the USSR had confirmed and affirmed. Live in the moment and don’t think about anything else. A soft close-mouthed groan made her turn her head. He’d lifted an arm above his head, shielding his eyes from the ever-approaching light. 

    “Bea?” His voice was gruff and rough from sleep and it sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. Licking her lips, she turned towards him.

    “Mornin, sugar.” A sweet kiss against his lips made him pull his arm away from his face. Opening hazy eyes, his infamous frown was back on his face. Yawning, he grumbled out loud. 

    “I need coffee.” 

    “I think Auntie Junko might be the only one awake.”

    “Hm.”

    “Sleep good, papa?” 

    “Mm.” Smiling as he turned to press his face against her breasts, she lifted her leg to drape him, their positioning slightly resembling the one from last night. Having another point of view of him made her smile. She liked this one. She also liked the feeling of his morning wood rubbing against her. She liked that a lot. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and his lips, she felt herself smile. 

    “I never woulda took you for being a cuddle bug.” 

    “A what.” His voice was flat, sleepy, and irritated. 

    “It means you like bein’ all up on me.” 

    “Hm. Don’t flatter yourself.” Playfully pushing him away, she sat up with a huff, lifting her arms above her head to stretch. His fingers drew soft circles against her back. Things grew quiet between them and it was comfortable.

    “I dreamt of my mother.” The statement made her look down. Waiting for him to continue. 

    “She was in the kitchen teaching you how to make breakfast.” Smiling, she leaned into his touch. 

    “Our way of life is much simpler here and we aren’t as fancy as Americans. Our stoves don’t plug into a wall. They burn wood, paper, and pulp.” Reaching up with his arms, he grabbed her and pulled her back down with a sharp tug, satisfied in the splayed, close limbs that pressed against him. 

    “You were there, crouched at the stove, fanning the flames to keep them burning. Dressed in one of Okaasan’s kappogi. Hair wrapped with a handkerchief. She kept a watchful eye over you and instructed you to come to help her slice the freshly caught fish.” His voice was soft as he spoke and one of his hands drifted down to rest against her hips. 

    “When you were done preparing the meal, she noticed me standing there finally.” She returned his touch with one of her own, a hand against his chest. 

    “Did she say anything?” It took him a moment before answering and she could see the shiny tears that he blinked away. Clearing his throat, he sighed deeply. 

    “She said ‘Well done, Ikki.’” Well done. Even that made her throat grow tight with emotion. 

    “She was giving you her approval.” Turning her head to look up at him, she watched as he let his hand glide across her hair gently in reply. Smiling, she leaned further up and kissed him softly. 

    “I won’t ever be able to do things like her…Aunt Junko…Etsuko even. But, I’ll do my best to learn.” A gentle knock against the shoji made them tense up. 

    “I do not mean to disturb you. I wish to let you know that we will be departing today.” Aunt Junko. Her presence faded from the door and he looked up at her. 

    “If I wanted a model housewife, I would have married one.” Cheeks flushed, she let him go as he sat up finally. 

    “I don’t require you to be anyone else, Bea. You and you alone are enough.” 

 

*** 

 

 

 

    I prepared the furo for a while until the water was nice and hot. Sitting on the marble slab that edged the tub, I finished removing my nugujuban as she dipped underwater. This bath was my favorite one out of the two bathing rooms in the house. It always had been. Clearly influenced by Roman-Greco influence, my father had meshed our Japanese culture and the other perfectly. Much larger than our style of tub, it could comfortably fit three or four people inside. The tiny cramped tub of Mukden seemed inferior when compared with this one. 

    That tub, that place was in a different time and my mind tried to conjure up memories that refused to let me go. Small wet hands and arms forced the images and shadows away. She lifted a small container of medicinal water to wet my hair and body. As the earthy rose clay and kelp soap bar slipped down and across my skin, she lifted my face upward, lips kissing mine. Here was our excuse to stay a little while longer amidst the warm steam and quiet splash of the water. With it, time escaped us. It seemed to stop altogether.

 

*** 

 

    She pulled herself from the bath and came to stand in front of him. Droplets of water covered her body in tiny little beads, trails of clear coasting down the flesh, and her skin was still sudsy from the soap. Glossy breasts, erect nipples. The visual bruises displaying his possession, glistened thanks to the water, the color a much more muted red now. Just looking at them made his cock stiffen back up. It amazed him how her hair seemed to elongate even more when wet. Quite long already, it nearly reached her bottom when the water doused it. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Reaching out to touch him, she pulled her body in close, quiet as his palms pressed against the cheeks of her derriere.

    Words weren’t needed; touch, breath, lips, and tongue spoke loud as to their need…their desire for one another. She lifted her legs up on either side of him, one then the other up onto the cool marble to rest. Delicate limbs and soft wet hair, cold. Fingers reached in between them now and led him to his refuge, safety, warm silky heat. With both ease and greed, she sucked him into her body, her pussy swallowing him whole.  A rough groan filled the bath, hands now gripping her cheeks. 

    At a loss for words, she pressed flush against him, until no space or air existed between them. Slowly, she rotated her hips back and forth in a soft rocking motion, the testament to her pleasure a muffled moan against his shoulder, her teeth biting into the flesh. With little effort, he lifted her by her derriere and brought her crashing back down to meet him. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades and held on as he took her for a ride. The sounds they made were desperate and needy and in the quiet of the morning, a sharp heavy thwomp created a wet slimy mess between their conjoined sex. 

    “T-Too much…Ichiro….it hurts…” She mewled against his ear, voice now more pained than before. At once, their hips stopped moving and she tried to catch her breath. His hands lifted up away from her bottom and caressed her trembling body. Arms now came around her, holding her tight. 

    “I’m sorry.” His voice was full of regret and pain cut into his chest. Her lips kissed just underneath his chin and up further against his cheek. Lifting hands, she took hold of his face, thumbs smoothing the now prominent worry lines in his brow. A kiss to the top of his nose. Another there by the corner of his mouth. 

    “I’m…tender down there right now…Let’s do it a little slower.” Her hips began to move, setting a slow soft rhythm the pace and lips once more met. His hands and eyes were tender and warm and he carefully took her hair into his fingers, pulling her head back. His tongue licked her and his lips kissed her light and sweet. 

    “Mm…that’s it, baby.” She breathed, delight and pleasure once more in her tone. He slowed his breath and closed his eyes as foreign sensations flowed through his body. He wasn’t used to this. This slow way. The inner muscles of her pussy submerged his shaft in a tight spongy chokehold and how sweetly it massaged him in complete and total forgiveness. With a shaky breath, a drawn-out groan soon rumbled against her mouth.

    “Beatrice…” Her hips now upped the speed just a tad, enough that a soft quiet clap wetly rose up. A sharp convulsion of her channel made a sudden snarl rip itself from him. 

    She began to milk him, a consistent and powerful tremor that took his breath and he couldn’t hold them back anymore. Moans hit open air, clear, smooth, and deep, slowly rising… slowly ascending in a rhythm of their own. Lips smashed against each other, their respective moans were now conjoined… now in unison. A little more and the two of them crumbled into pieces, holding on to each other for dear life as their climax overwhelmed them. Hard uneven breaths fanned against her chest and it brought a smile to her. Gentle fingers combed through his hair and her kisses quieted and calmed him. 

 

 

*** 

 

    Beatrice taught me so many things and I enjoyed learning from her.  Masculinity wasn’t always meant to be so hard. So rigid. So unfeeling. I found that allowing myself to release how she made me feel…the sounds one thought only a woman should make, freed me. It became a language between the both of us free of words and saying everything that needed to be said, with no effort, judgment or embarrassment. Beatrice did quite like whenever I moaned during lovemaking. It made me feel good, knowing that in even this way, I could please and satisfy her. 

    In the fledgling stages of our marriage, we learned a lot from each other. Made a lot of mistakes. Tried to unlearn some ways. Some behaviors that we found hurt one another. Sometimes, we succeeded and other times we failed. And, we worked on things, patterns, and ways that made our relationship stronger. The two of us began to discover what a simple, peaceful life meant to us.

    Before we both knew it, a year had passed us. Then, two. Some nights, many nights, shadows and ghosts of the past had haunted me and haunted her. Sweat-soaked nightmares and memories. Blood and an aching stump. Her small hands rubbing the tension and stress out of my shoulders, neck, and scalp. Her tears on futons and pillows. Her pretty little mouth weeping Ruby and other miscellaneous names. When it rained, and body heat was ample, sleep found us well. And, sometimes, when the snow was its heaviest, my leg hurt like a bitch and I closed myself in another room in fear that my crippling pain would make me say things to her I couldn’t take back.

As I reflect back on it, I no longer feel quite as guilty. We were both so beat up, so abused by our former lives. We had to go through the growing pains. Healing pains. Together. She’d seen the worst side of me and I’d seen the worst side of her. And still… she was the only one who understood me. She was the only one who could ever complete me. 

    By the summer of 1951, I, still to the word of the former Emperor, received my stipend and had enough to afford a comfortable life for us both. I took great pride in providing for her. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with it but she accepted it. Though it was not required of me to work, I had found a job in the Bikan districts selling hand-painted toys. Beatrice too had found a small gig in the Bikan district, preparing medical supplies for the Americans headquartered in Tokyo. It was good for her; Gave her a taste of home. 

    Etsuko and Minato had adopted three orphans that had survived the bombing of Hiroshima and after so long of sometimes jarring quiet, our house was filled with childish laughter and noise. Watching them run and play in the gardens did something to me. Of course, I knew that eventually Beatrice and I would have children. Over the two years since we’d been married, we’d agreed to wait until we both were in a better place, a routine of normalcy and daily obligations taking precedence. 

    The long summer days turned into hot humid nights and over again. Until, one day, amidst the scorching heat, I made a decision. That day would be the day I impregnated her. 

     

 

*** 

 

1951 

July

 

 

    The air from the fan didn’t do much but blow hot humid air around. With a miserable groan, she sat on the engawa, sweat from her skin dripping down to soak her slip. Letting one of her legs hang down over the engawa, she’d brought the other up, balancing her elbow on her knee. They’d been experiencing a major heatwave for the last week, not entirely unordinary for Kurashiki. Humored eyes watched her through the window, a knife and steady hand slicing the fresh fruit he’d picked up from the market. All seasonal to the region, he started with the hakuto (white peach), not much caring to peel the skin away. He liked the fruit as a whole, skin and all. When he’d cut them how he liked them, he set them aside and next cut into figs. 

    “Ichiro?” 

    “What is it?” 

    “You ain’t tell me it was gon be this damn hot here.”

    “You should be used to it by now.”

    “Hey!” Chuckling, he placed the neatly sliced fig into another bowl. Now onto the grapes. 

    “I know where I come from is hot but damn, it feels even hotter than hell.” 

    “That’s possible?” He mused, dipping the grapes in icy water, leaving them and the melon to sit and grow cold. 

    “If Alabama is hell then Kurashiki is hell’s asshole.” To that, he couldn’t help his laughter and he poured water into two bizen ware mugs. 

    “Where the hell do you come up with that shit, Bea? Fuck.” Sticking out her tongue, she pouted as he placed her mug down. 

    “The heat don made you get more mean.”

    “Has it?” 

    “Yeah. Sweating so much took all your brain cells.”  Choking on his water, he coughed, teeth grinning and eyes watery. She returned his grin with defiant eyes and a smirk.

    “Maybe you’re right.” Clearing his throat, he sat back, palms pressed against the deck. 

    “It’s certainly made me horny.” It was her turn to choke and she nearly broke her neck turning to look at him. 

    “Don’t look at me like that.”

    “When are you not horny, baby?”

    “Blame the heat.”

    “Nice try, sugar but I ain’t buyin’ it.” The two shared a laugh and she laid back against the porch. 

    “I feel like my skin’s gonna come off it’s so hot.” She complained, lifting that useless fan to blow more humid air across her. 

    “That fan is pointless. You know that right?” 

    “Well, smart ass, it’s all I got at the present moment.” Eyes opening, she watched him get back up and head back into the house, soon returning with the bowls of fruit he’d prepared a little while ago. 

    “I’ve been thinking,” He started, placing the bowls down on the porch. 

    “About what?”

    “Kids.” Their eyes met and her cheeks grew warm. 

    “Ooookay.”

    “I want to make a child. Today.” 

    “Wait wait wait. Whoa. Hold it.” His eyes lifted up from the fruit and his eyebrow lifted. 

    “Is there a problem?”

    “I mean… Ichiro… you can’t just… you gotta ask for that kinda stuff, papa.”

    “Shouldn’t a wife want children?” 

    “Not every wife wants kids believe it or not. Not that that applies to this situation. You already know I want kids with you.”

    “Hm.”

    “That’s not the issue.”

    “Then what is the issue?”

    “Your delivery.” As she reached for a piece of fig, he grabbed her hand and forced it away, pressing it against the lacquered floor. 

    “How would you like me to ask you?” 

    “Nice and sweet. Plenty of kisses. No commanding me like I’m your personal baby-making factory.” Loosening up on her hand, he entwined their fingers and lifted the back of her hand to his mouth. 

    “You’re right. I’m… working on that.”

    “I know you are.” 

    “Let’s start over.”

    “Let’s.” Leaning in close, he gently kissed the corner of her mouth. 

    “I’ve been thinking about children lately, Bea.” 

    “Mmhm?” Now a full kiss on her lips. 

    “Are you ready for that?”  Humming her approval, she rewarded him with another kiss. 

    “Good job,” She praised, smiling against his lips. 

    “Honestly, lately I've been having dreams of being pregnant. I just ain’t shared em with you.” 

    “Oh?” His voice couldn’t hide the satisfaction at that piece of information. It was the gods’ blessing, their way of preparing her for this day. 

    “Mmhm.”

    “Then?”

    “I think you and I in a good place, papa.”

    “We are.”

    “Yes.” Pulling back from her, he took hold of her chin. 

    “Yes, what?”

    “I think we’re ready for a baby.” He leaned her back against the floor and with one last kiss on her lips, removed himself from her vicinity. 

    “Good, then.” Her eyes watched as he left and returned one last time, a futon and a couple of pillows in his hand. Mouth dropping open, she watched in shocked silence as he spread the futon out near the edge and threw down the pillows. Dark and intense eyes locked with hers. 

    “Take off your slip.” 

 

***

 

 

    Shocked, she slowly lifted her hands to the straps and pulled them down, the garment growing slack at her waist. I never tired of looking at her breasts and I couldn’t wait to touch and kiss them. Maybe the heat really had taken what was left of my brain cells. In its place lay a dark carnal hunger that I had tried to keep at bay. I could, of course, have placed the blame on the wolf and dog gods, for they had chosen my family, my bloodline. But that would be dishonest. No, I was enough of an animal without their influence and I was starving for her flesh. That day, I would let my desires roam free. I’d celebrate her the way I wanted to. And, I’d destroy her just the same. 

 

*** 

 

    Nicely tanned and golden brown, her skin glittered with sweat droplets but she shivered as if she was cold. She laid in front of him in the futon, legs and knees pulled up. He’d kept quiet as he brought the bowls of fruit closer now, glad they had still remained chilled. 

    “Put your legs down…please.” Slowly, she did as told and her eyes watched as he grabbed a long pair of hashi and dipped them into the bowl, bringing with it a single piece of fruit. A fig. A surprised gasp sounded as he lowered it to rest there in the valley between her breasts. Appreciating the contrast in color, he repeated the action, this time sliced grape halves, alternating between the two in a single file line down her body. 

    “You wouldn’t remember it but we once had a conversation.”

    “W-what was it about?” Actually gulping, her eyes stared up into his, taking in his humored smile. Leaning down over her, he hovered above her, the size of his big tall body immediately dwarfing hers. 

    “We had a conversation about me fucking you.”  Her entire body now felt like she was put in an oven and set to bake on slow. The look in his eyes was ravenously dark and wicked. She found it hard to speak now, the energy he was giving off made her mute.

      “You’re not familiar with the way I do things, not entirely. It wasn’t the time and place to talk about it, then.” A chill went through her and he grinned slightly. 

    “I’m a sadist.” Speaking low against her lips, he sighed. 

    “I’ll tell you what it means. I like causing pain during sex. I want it to hurt.  Until you beg me to stop… until tears are running down your face.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she laid underneath him, body trembling. 

    “Wrapping my hands around the throat and choking the air out, biting and bruising. Spitting and degredation. I like it all.” 

    “I-Ichiro…” His hand breezed her cheek. 

    “You’ve forced my hand so I must make adjustments.”  His lips poked out to press against hers, teeth gently sinking into her bottom lip. 

    “Making you feel good gives me much more satisfaction. I won’t hurt you…much. ”

 

*** 

 

    She was afraid. The fear mingled with the arousal intoxicated me. As much as she was afraid, I could see the way her gaze still remained open… trusting. Apprehensive yet she had more faith than fear in me. It seemed to melt my bones until I was nothing but a puddle of goo, easily moldable.

    She tried to process everything I’d said in a matter of minutes. This, being the calm before the storm. This, being my attempt to give her options… choices. I wanted to give her agency in deciding how I fucked her. As the love of my life and future mother of my children, she more than deserved that right. I wanted to try… yet again… to blend the best of both worlds… worship and destruction… pleasure and pain. 

 

*** 

 

    By now, the chill had worn off of the fruit laying there displayed so prettily on her naked body. 

    “I need permission. I need conditions before I proceed,” He let the pad of his thumb brush her bottom lip.

    “I need to know that you still want the same thing I do.” It took her a while longer before she spoke. 

    “I trust you, baby. Because I trust you, you’ll always have my permission and consent.”  At long last, she leaned into his touch and when her eyes looked up at him, the sensuous expression on her face made his cock jump. Licking his lips, he remained quiet as she continued,

    “I want you to bite and bruise me… I want your hands around my neck.” His jaw tightened at the seriousness of her statement. 

    “I like lookin’ at my body when you’re done, sugar. Makes me feel like I’m all yours.”  She whispered now, leaning up to lay a palm against his cheek. Her words certainly affected him and he looked like he was struggling…trying to hold on to whatever was left of his self-control. 

    “Make it hurt… just a little. If it hurts too much, you’ll stop.” 

    “I will,” He confirmed without hesitation, voice raspy. 

    “Because it’s you, I will.” Letting her hand fall away from his face, she laid her arm back now against the lacquered wood. Those eyes of hers, the rise and fall of her chest, her bitten and licked lips hammered in the final nail in the coffin and her next words buried him nine feet under. 

    “Fuck me.”

End Notes:

 

A/N: Anybody having flashbacks of the night in the D.C hotel after the Ichiro's farewell dinner party? Man, To have Beatrice tell this man that she trusts him, to have her admit that she shares the same desires that he does... and has complete faith in him that he will not overstep or abuse her trust... that made me tear up not even gonna lie. We've come a long way from the date night in the courtyard garden. She's more than ready to receive him and his love. How far they've come... how hard they've worked to get to this point, to have enough fledgling restoration to open themselves to each other. I'm a whole mess y'all lol. 

 

I decided to try something new hehe. It's called Nyotaimori. Copied from google, it is: Now considered an art form, Nyotaimori is eating sushi off a perfectly still, naked woman's body! A marriage of food and sensuality. The nude woman's body serves as a food plate. The woman is generally expected to lie still at all times and not talk with guests.

I applied fruit instead of sushi because Kurashiki in Okayama Prefecture is considered the fruit kingdom! They specialize in hakuto white peaches (I think that's like their signature fruit like how each state has a fruit, mascot, etc. Where Ohio is known for the buckeye (literal, Ohio State Bucks and the chocolate/peanut butter buckeye) Kurashiki is known for the white peach. I think it's definitely a classy erotic reference especially for the season they are in hehe. The visual of Ichiro legit eating fruit off of Bea's body gave me chills. Whew. 

 

I love the open and honest communication between the two of them too. That did me in. Their little session in by the morning bath is one of my favorite parts about this episode. The understanding and willingness to adapt was just *chef's kiss* 

Kay, one more chapter update and we're all caught up hehe. 

DL~

 

さんじゅうろく by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:


sanjuuroku 


thirty-six 


BASED ON THE TWO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS, Y'ALL ALREADY KNOW WHAT'S GOING DOWN LOL 

 

 

 

She looked magnificent, the fruit arrangement varying in color, smaller pieces here, bigger pieces there. But what made his mouth water the most were the neatly arranged slices of peach he’d placed on her mound. Salivating, he sucked the spit back into his mouth and swallowed it. He wanted her consent and now he had it. With a clear and definitive understanding between them now, he decided to provide the views of his body that he knew she liked in return, a measly gift of thanks. 

    Lifting to untie his nugujuban, he let it slip down and away from his shoulders. Naked as the day he was born, he stood still as those fucking toes of hers came to press against his pectoral. Slow and intentional, her foot moved down his chest, ribcage, and stomach. A sharp inhale at the touch there made him inhale sharply. 

    Eyes on what she really wanted, her toes soon followed the shape of his erect cock, spreading to slowly massage him. He remained wordless as his head fell back against his shoulders. Coming now to grab hold of her foot, he pressed it against him firmly, using her limb to slowly stroke the meat of him. A deep groan rumbled up from his chest and he lifted it upward, not satisfied until he had his mouth on the little fuckers. A surprised little moan made his lips smirk, humored eyes looking down at her squirming and wiggling around. 

    “Stay still, Bea.” He hushed, gently licking her big toe. 

    “I… can’t…”

    “Try,” He played with her senses with breath, tongue, and varying degrees of pressure and though it took her by surprise, he could tell she liked it. She’d lifted her leg and spread it up and back to rest comfortably against the futon and her dewy little peach glistened with aroused excitement. Removing her pretty red toes from his mouth, he took hold of her ankle and pushed her other leg back, bringing the whole of her sex into view. 

    Slowly, his kisses trailed up her calve, teeth pausing to bite into the tender muscle and flesh. He took his time in his ascension of her body, tongue slipping into the fold between her calve and lower thigh. Already, he could smell the fragrant fruits up above him. He’d purposely denied breakfast just for this reason. He’d purposely put on his prosthesis for this. He wanted to enjoy her with no limits whatsoever. 

    Leaning forward to rest onto his forearms, he neared mid-thigh and softly bit into it. The smell of her naturally sweet musk and peach beckoned him and he couldn’t resist tasting her with open-mouthed kisses and licks. With a turn of his head, there finally he rested at her plate of temptation, ready to feast. Reaching up with his hands, he grasped both sides of her waist, palms warm but sturdy. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her for the briefest minute. Soon, he took one of her outer lips into his mouth and with a gentle suck let it free, a broad tongue licking across her inner lips to the next one. 

    “Mm…” Now, circling her clitoris, a cool icy breath against it made her buck up.  Her hands slid down, palms against his head, fingers keeping him close. She moaned again as that tongue of his teased her perineum. Inside he slipped and he openly groaned against her, her channel squeezing the tip of his tongue. Pushing the slick warm muscle further in, he moved it nice and slow. 

    Opening his eyes, he enjoyed watching her ride his face and pulled it out. Glistening with her dew, he lifted his chin and bit into one of the peach halves. Immediately, the juice slipped down his chin and wet her mound. The combination of her musk and the juicy flesh of the peach made him dig his nails into her sides.

     Finishing it, he greedily went for another.  His fingers lifted and softly slid inside her as he ate the second to the last half.  Biting half of the last one, he pulled his fingers out of her. Lifting up to hover, he was careful not to disrupt the remaining fruits still awaiting his stomach. 

    “Open your mouth, Bea.” Slowly, she did, welcoming the last bit of the peach and his glossy fingers. Taking his offering, she cleaned his fingers of her essence and savored the interesting yet pleasant tastes mixing in her mouth. 

    “Mm.”

    “Taste good?” He asked, voice low and raspy. 

    “Mmhm.” 

 

***

 

    I took my time, as what good did it do to eat in haste? I enjoyed my meal on her body and in between her legs. She made the prettiest offering, one even the gods would be pleased with. Seeds of fig and the juice of the grapes trickled down her sternum but my favorite part of it all was biting into the last two kakuto halves, one I’d placed atop both of her erect nipples. How still they sat balancing amidst the hardened nubs of stony flesh and blood. Sweet and aromatic, the juice erupted, dripping down the sides of her breasts in a wet sticky mess. A memory of my childhood graced my mind as I ran my tongue down and under the sides of the mounds of fat. 

    My mother would scold me as a small boy for always making such a mess at dinner. I was quite picky, like my father, and what I didn’t like, I played with. It took much discipline and many years before I stopped playing with my food. Years before I learned how to properly clean up my spills and drips and splatters. Even so, as much as I did it to appease my mother, I quite liked to make them. Even now, my actions weren’t by accident. The messier she was, the better. 

     Lifting her legs up into the air, I pulled her as close to the edge of the engawa as I could, pushed them together, and hoisted them across my shoulder. Shaking with desire, I wasn’t subtle about entering her body nor was I gentle about it. Smooth wet warmth sheathed me and as a reward, I pounded her with firm heavy thrusts. 

    I wrapped my fingers around her tiny little throat and squeezed her just hard enough to make her strained breath squeak as it hit the air.  She was so fragile and small beneath me and it gave me a euphoric rush knowing that I held her very life in my hand. At any moment, I could crush her windpipe, and still, she trusted me not to. Tears slipped down her cheeks and her eyes rolled back once more before I came to an abrupt stop. Easing my grip on her neck, I allowed myself to view the result of my hard work. Trembling and gasping breath, shuddering broken whimpers and purrs. I leaned down, enjoying how small she appeared under me, and licked the tears from her cheeks. It was time to worship again. 

 

*** 

 

    Her legs now hugged his hips on either side and she soaked up the sweet soft kisses he pressed against her wet cheeks. There, his hand still remained around her neck but it didn’t squeeze as firmly as it did before. Didn’t squeeze barely at all. Just seemed to hold her by the throat. She tried but couldn’t seem to stop the shaking of her body. 

    “Do you want me to stop?” The question was quiet and warm against her eyelids. Is it too much? Am I hurting you too much? The underlining questions in his voice made her open her eyes to look up at him. Her hands had taken hold of the futon beneath them and gripped it for dear life but she released the tension, released her fingers of the hold. Lifting them up, they glided down his lower back and across the cheeks of his ass. 

    “No…I don’t.” Pleased with that answer, his hips began slow sweet undulation and he bit into her lip as her thighs tightened against him. Their kisses were gentle and tender and mellow easy lips pressed together. Long, deep strokes of his shaft to match and it caused her nails to stab his flesh. Nice and slow, his entire length caressed her and her arms lifted to encircle his neck, pulling him flush against her. He felt the urge to climax twist his belly and with one last kiss on her lips, came to a stop. Pulling out of her, his fingers once more wrapped around her neck. Lifting her up into a half sit, he licked and sucked on her jawline.

    “Get on all fours.” It amused him how eager she was to obey him and he knew the position was new for her. They’d never made love this way and he was glad he’d chosen the good prosthesis today because, without it, this view wouldn’t be possible. Just looking at her made his cock twitch and for a moment, he observed and touched her. 

    Back in a soft arch, the sweat of the day made her toasty brown skin glisten and she tried holding still as his hands roamed her. First to the small plump cheeks of her derriere. Soft and firm, the pliant round muscles filled his palms and he squeezed them gently. He listened intently to her breath and hearing it still calm and relaxed, spread the masses of flesh apart, revealing a tiny little brownish-pink hole there in the middle. 

    “Pretty,” He complimented, taking his thumb to brush against it. She made a sound of protest, jerking away from his touch. Lifting his eyes upward, he laid his palm against her buttocks. 

    “You don’t like that.” She allowed him to pull her back toward him, pressing a kiss of apology against the small of her back. 

    “I won’t touch there again.” He hushed, kissing up her back and to her shoulder. Pulling away from her, he lifted his swollen shaft upwards to rub and trace the shape of her slit. Completely exposed and open, her cavern was wet messy and slimy from its earlier beating and it looked so empty. He wanted to fill it up, like the American pastries that had made it into the hands of children in Tokyo as they circled the American soldiers. Thick and sweet, the filling gushed out when you bit into it. 

    Smirking, he let go of her derriere and let his hands fall to his sides. It was clear she wanted him inside and her whine told him so, not too happy at his teasing.

    “If you want it, take it, Bea.” Breathing now a bit faster, she clenched the pillowy futon and licked her lips. With a shaky breath, she pushed back and down, her channel sucking him in nice and smooth. Enough that she’d taken in the head, she stopped, already a panting moaning mess. Her hips bucked like crazy and her entire body trembled with pleasure. Slowly, she began to twist, twirl and wiggle. 

    “All of it.” Lifting his hands to her hips, he slammed her back against him with a forceful tug, bringing forth a wail from her mouth. 

    “Oh God….Oh God…” She sobbed, fingers now mere claws. He could understand the tears that budded at the corners of her eyes and uneven shaky breaths. His stomach pulsated and throbbed and he grit his teeth in a low rough grunt, jaw tight and firm. At that moment, it took every shred of his willpower not to cum then and there. He felt as though he’d reached a part of her he’d never before discovered, a deep, sinful dive that made him feel like he was literally a part of her body…her depth threatened to choke the very life out of him. His own breath was hard now and he felt sweat and the sun lick his back. Hands wanted to grip and pull, hips wanted to fuck even deeper but not yet… not yet.

    “Ride me, sweetheart.” Palms now flat to give herself support, she dug into the bedding and thrust back just the way he wanted…the way she wanted… hard and heavy.  Lost in the tides of her ocean, he surrendered up to her reciprocity; he accepted the pleasure she gave with every thrust backward. The solid earnest thwack of their bodies meeting and the fast little unsteady movements of her ass cheeks as they quaked and bounced forced a harsh impassioned growl out of his throat. Clasping them, he forced her still.

     Breath coming out as short gruff pants, his hands slipped up her glossy back and reached around to squeeze her breasts. They didn’t stay there long, opting instead to grasp her by the hair. Long enough to seize with both hands, he yanked her head back, making her look up at him. Without a word, he gently nudged her with a soft roll of his hips and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes nearly crossing as they rolled back. Letting one of his hands fall free from her hair, his fingers came up around to take hold of her just below her chin. 

    A pink tongue darted out, curling upward. Keeping the gait slow and languid, he leaned down to give her what she searched for, the press of their tongues sweet and slow. Humming into her mouth, he closed his lips around the slick muscle and sucked. A sharp plunge into her forced their mouths apart and a sweet cry reverberated, disturbing the peaceful stillness of the day. With that warning, he began to pummel her throbbing little hole with sharp violent thrusts and desperate filthy moans and screams now escaped her wanton and loud. 

    “Yes, daddy….yes….yes….yes…”  The way she squeezed him made him breathless and he couldn’t do much else but answer her with the dense wet clap of their conjoined sex. 

    “Fuck me fuck me fuuuuuccccck meeeeee….” She sobbed, tears of ecstasy once more sliding down her cheeks. Breathy open-mouthed groans and the tight strained muscles of his stomach signaled his approaching release. With one last yank of her head back, he watched her orgasm rip her to pieces, intense squirting soaking the both of them. As she crumbled he kissed her, a satisfied roar vibrating against her as he climaxed. Shuddering against her, he panted with a choked groan as long deep spurts of his cum filled her up. He wasn’t ready to leave and stayed inside for a while longer before pulling out. His cock deflated with pride and he tried to catch his breath as he took in his equally flaccid wife as she laid out, unable to move from her position. 

    To his gratification, a sudden loud spurt rose from her satiated pussy, and out of her hole oozed creamy white semen. Long thick strands of it fell onto the futon and he licked his lips as she weakly mewled. Hands reached for her and pulled her close. Soft gentle kisses tickled her back and she melted under his tender touch, lips and tongue taking her earlobe into his mouth. Down to her shoulder and there, he pressed a kiss against her sweaty brow. 

    “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Hm?” She couldn’t speak yet but a sleepy vocalization answered instead. Lifting her up into his arms, he smiled against her as she lifted her arms and legs around him. 

 

*** 

 

    It took her a while to come back down but she grew centered the more I held her. She laid as putty against me as I washed her body, her small little sighs of pleasure making me smile. I whispered into her ear praises; things I wouldn’t have had the courage to say outside of that moment. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to sit on my lap, hands rubbing lazy circles against her back. Our afterglow was atmospheric and special and we stayed like that until she fell asleep. I held her tight as I stepped out of the bath and carried her into our bedroom, onto a fresh and clean futon where I watched the water dry from her body and she curled up against me, wanting…needing my nearness and body heat.

     As I lay watching her, tips of fingers smoothing back the soft fine hairs that rested upon her hairline and temples, I felt the strangest emotion come over me. It was soft and gentle… a tender flutter of my heart that made it feel so full I thought it would burst apart. It overwhelmed me… this intense feeling of love and adoration for my sleeping wife. Now, you understand, Ichiro. This was what Minato tried to convey to me before…and at once I knew. I understood just what he meant. She was indeed a divine being of light, love, and stars and I, son of the wolf and the dog, was granted grace and abundant mercy to hold her heart. 

    There, silently, I closed my eyes against her warm breath and soft limbs and fell into a deep slumber. I always seemed to sleep best with her wrapped around me. That night too, I slept without nightmares or terrors. 

    Days later, we journeyed to Hiroshima. She held my hand as I nervously tried to stop them from shaking. It was a special day… the day we went to visit the resting site of my mother and grandmother. It seemed surreal… something I’d needed for seven long years. My feet carried us forward, never forgetting the way. It passed shadows of Mitsuko and I as we ran past our mother, ignoring her warning to be careful.

     Childish and carefree laughter tickled the wind as I watched us run ahead of me and then we vanished, my eyes now finding a house that had once housed people now vacant and seemingly burned to rubble. What met me was not a shadow of my sister. The form of a person who once sat on a stoop looked at me amid the remaining stairs. Throat tight, I felt tears fill my eyes. What had this person been doing when the bomb hit? Had they stepped outside for an early morning smoke or to watch the sunrise? 

    Tightening my grip on Bea’s hand our feet pulled me away from the house and we were powerless to stop them. Shells of twisted metal, blasted stone, and black earth. What once was the large and looming city center there now was simply a shell, the shape of the large dome and foundational concrete all that was left. The air felt thick, heavy, and full of death and grief. On our way yet, orphaned children peeked at us, having been playing ball, there, a watchful matron of what appeared to be an orphanage standing by the door. The faces of the children carried the grief of parents no longer there… they wandered aimlessly as I once had. 

    For a moment, I was silent, incapable of speech. Soon, without my control, I began to cry, there in front of me was a ghost, the house. Fresh pain ripped me open and at the vision of my mother standing there in the courtyard, I completely lost it. I didn’t recognize myself, torment and anguish present in my voice, shaky leg, and hands. At that moment, I felt as though I had shed yet another skin, another part of me that had to die. 

 

***

    “Let it out, papa.” Bea’s voice was low and comforting and she lifted her arms to wrap him up in safety. Her lips against his forehead and fingers rubbing gently against his shoulders caused him to draw breath. 

    “She’ll always be with you, Ichiro. She’ll never leave you.” Shaking, he wordlessly pressed his face against her neck. Her presence soothed, calmed, and comforted him in a way that only his mother’s had before her. It broke his heart and gave him peace at the same time. Sniffling, he lifted his head, welcoming her small palms against his cheeks. 

    “I… wanted you to meet her…properly. I…wanted to share our family…with her.” Smiling, she pressed a kiss against his forehead. 

    “We are sharing our family with her, sugar.” Taking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach. Lifting red watery eyes upward to her gaze, he tightened his jaw. Beatrice’s increased sensitivity to smell and quite notably the lack of her monthly cycle was the first sign. Aunt Junko had examined her with a trusted family midwife and it had been concluded that she was indeed pregnant. The news left him stunned and he felt too many emotions to name. Joy. Excitement. Anxiety. Fear. So many thoughts ran through his mind. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he wasn’t capable? Did he even deserve to be a father? He could only imagine what she was feeling. 

    “She’s here. She sees and I like to think she approves.” 

    “I think so too.” Smiling prettily at him, she took her thumbs and wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks. 

    “Her love will remain, forever.” Turning to look at what now were remnants of wood and stone, he tightened his grip on his cane. It was worth the trip coming here. His heart would carry the pain and heartache for a long time but eventually, he knew that with years’ time and Bea and their growing family with him, he’d heal. He’d make peace. This was the start of the closure he so desperately needed.  

    “Let’s go home.”

    “You… you gonna be okay?” 

    “Mm.” And in this way, the two of them turned and began to walk away from the rubble, hands gripping each other tighter than before. They’d be just fine. He’d be just fine. 

 

*** 

 

 

    The winter of 1951

 

 

    The snow fell and the wind was brutal and harsh. Inside, the house it was warm. I was glad that I’d taken the warmer months to chop plenty of wood and with Aunt Junko and Etsuko’s help, we’d stored plenty of pickled and canned food in the pantry. Beatrice had over the months reached out to her mother via letters, announcing her eventual return to the States. After many arguments and many discussions about it, Bea and I had agreed to move back to the United States… for a time. 

    She liked living in Kurashiki and she expressed the desire to remain close to the close-knit neighbors who now fondly called her ‘Masami-chan’. I loved that she had grown to love the place of my birth but we both knew that her heart grew heavier the longer she was away from her family. At four months pregnant, it was important for her to have familiarity, it was important for her to have the touch, voice, and smile of her mother to guide her way through this new and frightening journey. It was scary for both of us but, I felt proud…even through my fear, I didn’t regret a thing. Our love created a living being, a being that had grown, her belly a soft rounded shape. I took pleasure in watching her body change little by little. 

    With our decisions made and intention set on Chicago, we began to plan and save. The Imperial stipend was very much appreciated and it would see to our safe passage and take care of any needs we would have once back on American soil. January came and passed. February too. When March came, we bid Aunt Junko, Minato, and Etsuko goodbye. We bid Kurashiki goodbye and began a new journey. This time, she wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone. This time, we had each other and we were unbreakable. 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Yeah, I'm a mess. Just... everything from their last scene of love making to them going to Hiroshima just...yeah. They deserve so much....I love them. That's all I can say hehe. I had gifs and stuff to aid in visuals but I think that it's pretty explicit and visual enough honestly hehe. Ichiro to' that thang UP baby whew. Sis was speechless... a literal crying, sobbing wreck. LOL. WHEW.  Soooo... I kinda looked into like the dynamics of like a dominant/submissive relationship and I read that like literally the stimulation and stuff can actually make the receiving person dissociate. They literally go to another place mentally and it takes like... a lot of after care? for them to come back to the present. So, that's what Ichiro was doing at the end, caring for his baby boo as she came back down to earth hehe. 

Yup, anyways, love you guys. Thank you for reading this far hehe. I appreciate all the love and support hehe. I'll catch y'all in about a week hehe. 

God bless and stay safe~ 

DL

さんじゅうなな by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

 

 

sanjuunana 

 

thirty-seven 

 

 

 

* GRAPHIC LANGUAGE WARNING. THANK YOU* 

 

The rain was heavier this day than it had been yesterday. Two feet stood on a familiar porch, fingers holding a cigarette. Cool air and gloom seemed to penetrate the air but the heated voices coming from inside of the house sparked a fire. It'd been thirty minutes and they were still going. Relaxed fingers lifted the cigarette to awaiting lips and ears continued to take in the argument. 

*** 

"You think your father would approve of this?" There was silence for a moment before she spoke again. 

"You think your brother would approve of you and that man on my porch?" Bea inhaled slowly, preparing her words. 

"I think Joe woulda liked him real good. With time."

"Time huh?"

"Papa too if he had had the time to know him." Her mother now was quiet. 

"I know you upset about how I did things Mama but... I ain't tell you we was leavin' cause I knew you was gon' try to stop me." 

"Sure as hell woulda! You took your fast lil' tail all the way across the world for a man you barely know. Ain't thought I was important to know nothin'." Balling up her lips, she took a deep breath. 

"I did everythin' right that I could. I introduced you to him. You ain't like him, which is your business, not mine. I decided to go with him so he could re-connect with his roots and I thought that I'd be welcomed back here." She knew that when they returned to the States, she was going to get hit by her mother's emotions. She had prepared herself for it. But, not well enough it seemed.

"You have always been welcome here Beatrice Grace. Don't act like you ain't been." Her mother's furious eyes drifted down to her showing stomach. Her throat tightened slightly. 

"I'm sure you know him real well by now. Your belly proves that. But I don't." Her words stung, no, they cut deep into her heart, and as angry as she was, she was hurting more.

"I never thought I'd see the day my daughter would come home pregnant...pregnant and unwed. Was that Jap son of a bitch out there worth it? All the ridicule you gon get from the neighbors? Did you not think of how hard that baby life gon' be when he grows up?" 

"What the hell difference does it make?" Her voice yelled suddenly, making her mother grow still in shocked silence. 

"Would it have been better to have been raped by one of them Klan bastards? You'd rather me have a life of misery and pain havin' a half white child than one with a man I love? What the hell kinda mother are you?"

"Lower your voice in my house!" Biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes dropped down to her stomach. 

"You ain't concerned about my child, really. You concerned about yo' damn self." The front door finally opened and the man of discussion stepped in, footfalls heavy. Coming to stand just outside of the kitchen, he slipped his hands into his pockets and watched the two of them. At his piercing gaze, her mother turned her back to the both of them and began to cut up some potatoes. 

Without a word, he walked over to Bea, who by now was shaking, head down, shoulders and neck tight. She allowed his touch in the form of hands that slipped up to caress her waist. 

"It hurts me real bad to hear you talk to me like I'm some low-down slut, Mama." Now, her voice was breaking and everyone in the room could hear her tears. His hands now moved to the front of her stomach and his solid careful warmth there made her release the tension in her neck and shoulders. She leaned her body weight back against him and lifted her own hands upward to entangle their fingers. 

Now, done with the potatoes, her mother rinsed and dried her hands. Putting down the towel, she faced the two of them, mouth firm. 

"The first time his family saw me, they didn't make one comment about the fact that I was a Negro. They never said a word about it. Do you know what his aunt told me the first time we met? She said they didn't care about my skin color, they didn't care that I wasn't Japanese. All they cared about was that Will loved me. They opened their arms and their home to me and treated me like a member of their family. What does he get coming back home with me? Nothing but hatred and insults." Her mother was quiet. 

"You talk about him like you know who he is. But you don't know a damn thing about him. He fought for the country he grew up in and loved with all his heart. He watched his friends die one by one and almost died himself. Lucky that all that the war took of him physically was a leg. He is one of the most honorable men I know. " That made the woman bristle and she set angry eyes on the man who now held her sobbing daughter. 

"He took me as his wife despite knowing what society would say... what people like you would say. Fixed up a home for us with his bare hands and worked odd jobs, despite facing discrimination from some of his own people, knowing that all they saw was a cripple with a crutch." 

"Bea baby,"

"You don't know the hell Will and I have been through..." He whispered something against her temple and his arms hugged her a tad bit tighter as she lifted her hands to wipe the tears from her eyes. Sniffling, she took an uneven breath.

"I'm... I need some air for a minute." Eyes followed her as she excused herself and stepped outside. Now just the two of them, the energy changed almost immediately. Curiously enough, as tense as it was, it was slightly tinged with fear. Fear that he would use to his advantage. Just this once. 

"Out of respect to Beatrice, I went out onto the porch earlier to refrain from what I really wanted to say." She looked at him as if he was gum underneath her shoe. 

"I've asked her to step out for a moment so that I could make myself perfectly clear to you." Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth twisted up like the branch of a gnarled tree. 

"Excuse me?"

"I am who I am and I do not need to explain or prove myself to you or to anybody else. Let's make that clear first." His expression was calm and his voice even more so, but it chilled her to the bone. There was underlining rage that dwelled just behind the easygoing gaze. Drawing closer to her, his presence made her fingers tighten on the knife she held. 

"The second and most important thing I have to say to you is this," Her whole body stiffened as he leaned down, mouth closer to her ear. 

"This will be the first and last time you disrespect Beatrice in my presence." Fury lit her up and she lifted the knife upward, the blade pressing against his chest. 

"How dare you. Who the hell do you think you are?!" His eyes drifted down to the blade against him and upon lifting them back up to meet hers, a small bit of that carefully pulled back rage had been released, making him look menacing and dangerous. 

"I'm a very bad man who has done very bad things, Mrs. Jones." His voice had grown harder and it caused the knife in her hands to shudder. 

"I am offering you an opportunity of mercy." 

"What kind of opportunity?"

"To continue to see your daughter and your grandchild when it is born." Fear mixed so well with fury on her face and it made him grin. The action of it caused the rest of the fury on her face to vanish, leaving only crippling fear in its wake. Good. Very good. 

"You're threatening me...in my own house." 

"A threat is a statement of intention. An event of harm likely to happen." She made a noise of protest as he drew even closer, using his height to dwarf and intimidate the much smaller woman. 

"I will make sure that you never see her again." Tears began to well up in her eyes and she lifted them upward to meet his. 

"If you won't appreciate and love her then what good are you as her mother? I'll remove you so that all she has left for family is myself. Permanently." At that, her eyes widened and she dropped the weapon, the blade loudly clanging onto the floor. 

"You're...a child of Satan....you....you're evil incarnate..." Taking the time to back up, he once again resumed a calm demeanor. Hands now in his pockets, their eyes met one last time. 

"Be wise, Mrs. Jones. Take the opportunity as it's been presented." 

*** 

It had been only a couple days since we'd returned to American soil. The first place we'd come to was the house of her mother and upon returning, Beatrice had been brutally shamed and disrespected. The entire scenario set my chest on fire and it took everything in me to not strangle the bitter old bitch. My hands itched for wrap themselves around her neck and force every ounce of life out of her. Of course, I know what you're thinking. That's Bea's mother. My response now is what it was then. I don't give a fuck. I meant every goddamn word.

If she would not fulfill her purpose for being in Beatrice's life then I would get rid of her. Plain and simple. That conversation was, in my way, my attempt to attempt peace between the two of us. Old habits died hard and then again, some of them never did. It's just who I was. Who I am. Like it or leave it, accept it or don't. I was extremely overprotective over the little family I'd created and I didn't feel an ounce of shame or guilt for what I would do to keep it safe.

After our little talk, it was no surprise that Ruth Jones got her act together. Seems that she chose wisely after all. She apologized to Beatrice and to some extent to me as well, though the latter was very half-assed. That was quite all right with me. She tolerated me and I tolerated her just the same. Years passed before our relationship improved. 

*** 

It had been about two months since he'd heard from her. Over those eight weeks, he'd wanted to call her, text her, check on her, anything. Instead, he had poured his energy into finishing the manuscript. It was surreal, looking at it now neatly piled onto his desk. His palms were sweaty and he wiped them on the fabric of his sweats before reaching for it. Gingerly picking it up, he took a thumb and flipped through the pages, the smell of fresh ink and the crisp rip of the paper making his heart beat faster. It was done. It was finally finished. Feeling his chest grow full of pride and satisfaction, he blinked away slight tears. I did it, Mr. Matsuda. I finished it for you. 

Just as he'd placed the finished manuscript back onto the desk, his cell rang. Blinking at the bunny emoji he'd assigned for Asami, he felt his heart throttle his chest. Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips and answered it, careful not to sound overly excited. 

"Hello?" It was quiet on the other end, only for a moment. 

"Take...it's...um... it's me. Asami." Smiling into the phone, he relaxed in his chair. 

"I know it's you, silly." Tone warm and comfortable, it made her laugh some. 

"I called for two reasons."

"Mmhm?"

"One is to apologize. I shouldn't have hung up on you like that the last time we spoke. It was rude as hell and... I'm sorry."

"Forgiven. You've been forgiven." Her second inhale was deeper and more anxious. 

"The second reason I called was because...I...I wanted to explain myself. I...I needed time to sort everything out. Not just with you but... with me too. Everything." 

"I understand completely. I came on entirely too strong, I should've reined it back in just a tad. I'm sorry my intensity made you confused and unsure. Sounds like the kind of situation we'd find ourselves in, hm?" At that, she began to laugh and the sound of it warmed his entire body. It had felt like years since he'd heard Asami genuinely laugh. 

"For sure! I mean... you were always the quiet intense one and I was always the happy-go-lucky girl..."

"With a personality bigger than life itself." 

"Yeah...I miss being that girl." 

"You can always start anytime you want to, Sami. When you're ready for it." 

"Yeah...I um... I think I'd like to try again. Now." He was quiet, fingers lightly playing with the edge of the manuscript. 

"Let's get coffee. Breakfast too if you haven't already eaten." Smiling once more, he let his fingers relax. 

"I haven't, actually." Her voice was quiet for a while before it sounded in his ear again, stronger this time. 

"Good. Meet me at Lucky's?"

"Half-hour?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds good."

"'kay."

"See you soon, baby girl." 

"S-see you soon." Biting into his bottom lip, he felt a smile come to his face as they hung up. Sometimes, the best thing to do when you want a woman is to wait for her. She's already stubborn as hell anyway... by nature. Once she figures shit out... what she wants... she'll come back to you. When she does, let her fall into your lap with grace, Ito. Mr. Matsuda's words breezed across his mind and lit a fire in his chest. Pushing back his chair, he lifted the manuscript to place it into a clear liner. Standing up, he rustled his hair, deciding with the slight grip of his fingers that he was going to cut it. Like that, he headed towards the shower. 

*** 

Nervous mahogany fingers tapped on the lacquered pine countertop. This was ridiculous. You would think that she was meeting a complete stranger with the way her heart was about to come out of her chest. It was only Takeru. Maybe her unease came from the fact that she'd grown comfortable with his shy quiet nature and her ability to be the more talkative one, the more dominant one...until he flipped the script. Cheeks now rosy, she brought her eyes down to her still tapping fingers, a similar reflex to the one she attributed to her late grandmother. 

She had tried to make up every excuse as to how it had happened... that night. Tried to convince herself that it was only because of the alcohol, the music, and the atmosphere they'd been in. But the truth as her grandpa would say it: was a mother fucker sometimes. He'd tell her all the time that Takeru still liked her but she'd always brush it off. Lifting her eyes upward, her fingers grew still on the table. In her sight now, he smiled upon recognizing her and started to head her way. The truth caused her to hang up the phone. It caused fear to cling to her belly. It caused her to now clutch her fingers together to get them to stop tapping. 

"Hey, Sami." Swallowing sand, she looked up at him with all the courage she could muster. The truth reflected so clearly in his warm gaze and she licked her lips. She couldn't bring herself to admit what she already knew. But now, seeing what she felt in her heart look back down at her, she supposed it was now okay. 

"Hey Take."

*** 

Eyes were focused on her every movement as her dainty fingers flipped through the pages. Her face was stern with concentration and he enjoyed watching the slight nuances in her eyebrows or her lips as she read. The coffee shop was still pretty active after peak time. Voices chattering and laughter, the smell of freshly roasted espresso, and the slight sweetness of foamed milk filled the space. In this time, he took his time observing her, a sliver of calm oblivious beauty amongst the hustle and bustle of madness. 

She'd kept her hair short, the full glossy curls framing her face and neck almost too perfectly. The autumn day brought sunshine instead of rain and he was glad because it kissed her gorgeous skin; a lovely shade of cinnamon. Sitting there in light brown corduroy overalls, a cream scallop neck turtleneck, and a warm cozy cream cardigan, her shiny clear coated nails tapped the tabletop. 

Somehow, even though she wore no evidence of it, to him, she carried the scent of clay, paint, and earth and the memories of them blended together into a passionate alcohol-tinged blur made his cheeks grow warm. Asami Miller always had been and always would be his dream girl. 

"Any thoughts?" He asked, daring to disturb the beautiful sight in front of him. Aside from nut-brown eyes that had grown teary, she remained quiet as she continued to read all the way until the end. When it seemed that she was finished, she finally spoke. 

"It's perfect Takeru. I'm... I'm speechless..." Pride filled his chest and he offered a small smile, reaching for his cup of coffee. Silence still ensued as the waitress brought their breakfast to the table. When she left, he spoke. 

"I hope that my measly work gives credit and honor where it is due." She smiled prettily, the corners of her eyes folding some in teary delight. 

"Please, stop it. This isn't measly by any means. You've always been way too damn humble for your own good." They shared a laugh. 

"It's as if Grandpa is really alive and well, speaking through the pages. Just like his journal." Her smile deepened, showing both of those darling dimples. 

"You captured his voice, tone, and personality perfectly."

"You think he'd be satisfied?"

"He'd probably say something like, "'That bastard Ito finally grew his balls and did something right. Outside of you, Asami.'" They grinned at each other and soon broke out in laughter, the kind that hurt rolling stomachs and felt like pure joy in the bloodstream. 

"Sounds just like him. Ugh." He agreed with a smirk, sitting back in his chair. 

"He'd probably be sitting back in his chair watching the two of us with one of his trouble-making grins as Grandma used to call them." Taking another sip of his coffee, he placed the mug back onto the table. 

"I know you miss them." Though her lips smiled, her teary eyes fell down to the manuscript. 

"So freaking much." Reaching across the table, he gently entangled a couple fingers of hers with his. 

"They were your world; the reason you kept going for so long, Sami. I cannot imagine how debilitating it must have been to suddenly... have all of it stop. You gave up and sacrificed so many of your dreams and goals because of love." Her fingers gripped his and soon the rest of them entangled together. 

"I never said anything but I watched you... watched how hard you labored to try to provide quality care for Mr. Matsuda. You did so well. I'm so proud of you." Her bottom lip trembled and he could see she fought not to cry but gave up...allowing the tears to slip down her cheeks. 

"How did I not realize...that I wasn't alone?" Sniffling, she lifted her free hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen and lifted a watery gaze upwards. 

"Grandpa was right... I'm too much like grandma for my own good..." Squeezing her hand, he let go of it.

"Mrs. Matsuda was an amazing woman so it doesn't surprise me." Sniffling some, the two of them began to eat and engage further in small talk. She asked about his job and if he had any new patients. To her surprise, he informed her that he had quit his job not too long ago. She tried to stop herself from choking on her eggs. 

"Wait... what do you mean you quit your job?" Running fingers through what appeared to be a fresh haircut, he shrugged. 

"Mr. Matsuda's death showed me a few things. One, I think I'm an empath. Two, because I think I'm an empath, I feel things way too deep and can get attached way too easy." Blinking, she let him continue, 

"Your grandpa's death crushed me. A man I hadn't known until the later part of his life, a man I feared like the boogeyman. You remember me telling you I was scared of his office?" She nodded. 

"It took me a long time to get to the point where I could even step foot in there and not freak out." 

"So, basically you worried that your... heightened sensitivity would pose a problem?"

"Yeah." 

"I can see that." 

"I um.... I found I really enjoyed writing Mr. Matsuda's memoir. So, I think I might try freelancing and see if I like it. In the meantime, I'm pulling on my previous tech background and I'm working part-time as a UX/UI developer." 

"Right on, Take. That sounds like a good fit."

"What about you?" She sighed. 

"Well... I thought about it and I think I might go again for my master's. I've had enough of a break. I'm ready to get back in the ring." 

"Thatta girl." Cheeks rosy, she forced herself to sit up a bit straighter. 

"I'm...also ready to explore our...relationship...if um... if you-"

"You already know I do, Sami." Their hands slowly embraced each other again. 

"Maybe we can figure this thing out together...a little bit at a time."

"I'd really like that, baby girl." A shy smile lit up her face and she withdrew her hand to pick up her fork. 

"So, what are you going to name it? Grandpa's memoir?" 

"At least buy me dinner first before asking that." She play threw a napkin at him. 

"Dork." 

*** 

The sound of retching filled the empty hallway. Well, almost empty. A pair of large bare feet stood in front of the door, an equally large masculine body against the staircase banister. After a few more minutes, the sound of spitting and running water was heard before the door opened. Large shocked eyes stared up and a pretty set of lips grew slack and wide in surprise. 

"Ichiro...um...what are you doing up so early?" 

"Listening to you vomit. Clearly." That mouth drew into a frown and those eyes of hers narrowed. 

"Why?"

"I know when you're not in bed, Bea."

"And it alarms you?" He didn't answer but his face gave away his answer so easily. Smiling softly, she came closer until she pressed her body against his, face against his shirt-covered chest. 

"I ain't goin' nowhere sugar. You know that by now." 

"What is making you vomit?"

"This child of yours in my stomach." That made him grin. 

"I guess since you're up that means you want breakfast." That grin grew deeper, naughtier. 

"Clarify what you mean by breakfast, Beatrice." He hushed, lowering his head to press a kiss against her neck. 

"I'm hungry for a lot of things this morning." Her wordless breath responded as he laid a cheeky kiss against her chest, the exposed parts that the thin-strapped nightgown didn't cover. 

"The o-other breakfast, you ravenous man..." She said with a half laugh, half gasp as he gently pulled at the neckline of her gown with his teeth. 

"Easy Papa easy...Momma sure to get up soon."

"Too late. I'm already up." The two of them froze to see her very displeased face glaring at them. Clearing her throat, she left his arms and pulled one of the straps that had fallen down her shoulder back up. 

"M-mornin' Momma...um..." 

"If y'all done being inappropriate, meet me in the kitchen after you freshen up, Bea baby." 

"Yes ma'am." As she turned to head back into the bathroom, she suddenly grew slack and he jolted out to catch her before she fell. 

"I will meet you downstairs." With one simple sentence, he'd completely negated any authority her mother had over the situation and he could see that it annoyed her. Nonetheless, she didn't fight or argue. She just stood there watching as he helped her daughter's unsteady legs walk back toward their shared bedroom. With a suck of her teeth, she headed downstairs to start prepping for breakfast. 

*** 

It had been a month and a couple of weeks since we'd started living with Bea's mother. In that time, so much had happened. The changes in Bea's body were not subtle anymore. The once small slight bump of her stomach had grown more round, making it very visible and apparent that she carried a child. Her feet and ankles became considerably swollen, especially after being outside with her mother during their garden time. Bea was just as active as her mother and it made me smile sometimes to watch the two of them. 

They liked early Saturday mornings to garden and the two of them would be in their own little world. Bea would plant and her mother would uproot. Tomatoes, cucumbers, mint, basil, and thyme. It fascinated me to watch their dirt-covered hands wiggle around and pull up treasures supplied by the earth. The two of them would speak in hushed tones, foreheads glistening with sweat underneath their wide-brimmed hats and their laughter trickled up like a spring. 

Despite our less-than-friendly interactions, when it came to her daughter, Ruth Jones had learned that I didn't fuck around. I was eager to learn... to be taught. Already, I'd learned to place her feet on pillows or soak them in a bath of cool water when they swelled. When Bea complained of lower back pain, a cloth full of ice or one heated by warm water would alleviate the problem. Through all of her physical changes, my personal favorite had been the enlarging of her breasts. They'd grown heavier, fuller, and even more appetizing to look at. 

I took care when caressing them as she sometimes complained of tenderness. However, those complaints always seemed to die down when I would lick and suck her nipples. Her increased sensitivity there caused extremely intense orgasms. I had a hard enough time keeping my hands to myself as it was but I felt no shame for how I ravaged her. On a serious note, her dizzy spells and trouble sleeping...they concerned me. And that is what I inquired about once I made it downstairs. 

*** 

Her entire body language changed the minute he entered the kitchen. She grew tense and stiff and her chopping grew harder. 

"Wash your hands." He did so wordlessly. 

"You can start by deveining the shrimp." It seemed this morning's breakfast would include seafood. Taking the small paring knife that had been offered, he got to work, eyes down on his task. It was quiet and uncomfortably tense between them. 

"Why does Beatrice lose her balance?" His sudden question made her jump and he lifted his slightly humored eyes up to look at the spooked woman. 

"If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it by now. So long as you make yourself useful and don't disappoint her, you and I will be on good terms." His statement made her even tenser. 

"What if you don't make yourself useful to her? It's your fault that her belly is big. What if you grow tired of playing house and decide to leave her?" A valid motherly concern. 

"I will never abandon Beatrice. She is my wife." 

"Far as I'm concerned y'all playing house. I ain't ever seen y'all get married."

"That does not negate the fact that it happened." 

"Hm." It was quiet for a while longer before he spoke again. 

"I want to learn everything I can from you on how to care for her." The quick cutting of her eyes at him made him speak once more. 

"Provided that you are not able to. I do not desire to take away your moments with your daughter."

"But you sure as hell would take me away from her permanently."

"With conditions as I've stated several times before. You've made your choice, Mrs. Jones. A choice I respect and will honor." Placing the deveined shrimp in the provided bowl, he went to the sink to wash off the knife and his hands. 

"Beatrice wanted this child as much as I did so we both share the fault and blame for her current condition." Towel drying his hands, he turned to face the smaller woman who had moved on to chopping celery. 

"It makes you uncomfortable that we are intimate in front of you. Do you wish us to do so outside of your home?" An obvious 'yes' came up on her face but her mouth spoke something different. 

"I would appreciate it if you kept night activities... at night." She placed the knife down on the cutting block. 

"I refuse to stop making love to my wife because it makes you uncomfortable. We both do our best to not disturb you and she is more than mindful of you. If re-marrying her in your presence would settle things then I don't object. I'll make it happen." Going to fill the pot of water, he placed it on the stove and turned the burner on. 

"When we are able, we will vacate." Ending the conversation, he one last time washed his hands and left her alone in the kitchen to finish preparing the breakfast. 

*** 

Work. Me. Me and Work. It was something that Beatrice and her mother argued about going on two weeks before they reached some sort of stalemate. She argued that I was a deadbeat who did nothing but watch her like a threatening shadow. Bea, however, argued that nearly every day, during hours that she was outside of the house, I would search for work. It held true but I didn't feel the need to confirm her words. Contrary to the belief of her mother, it wasn't quite as easy to find a job in the current social climate. It was now June of 1952 and hot talk was that of the McCarran-Walter Act. It repealed the bigoted and discriminatory laws that prevented Asian people to become American citizens.

Little did her mother know, Beatrice and I would go to the immigration office and stand in line, every time, for hours. So many of them shared Japanese origin, others Chinese, others Filipino or South and Southeast Asians. So many languages, some familiar, others completely foreign along with smells of rich tangy tamarind and incense. 

Amongst the crowd, the two of us received so many different kinds of looks. Ones of pure disgust. Betrayal. Confusion. Indifference. Even so, we all stood in that never-ending line waiting for a chance to be given the opportunity to walk through the gates of passage. A chance to leave war, poverty, and death behind to make new paths of hope, freedom, wealth, and whatever our hearts desired. 

And all the while, those who deemed themselves 'native' to this country stalked the perimeter, eyes blazing full of hatred and displeasure. Thin lips turned their faces into one big line, blue, brown, and hazel eyes narrowed and mouthed opened to damn and curse us. 

Bea and I would always leave much earlier than the others, oftentimes due to her feet starting to swell. She'd take hold of my hand nice and tight, ears attentive to the strained breaths I would release as we would walk. I didn't care about any of those things, really. What was wealth when one could take it away? What was freedom when they put you in a birdcage and teased you with it? What I wanted was to be left alone. 

I wanted to have my family and my wife and be left alone. Hard to do, however, when this God-forsaken country reminded me every day that I was an unwanted crippled Japanese piece of shit, a menace to American society. A thing that they might consider entry but only for the law. 

*** 

"Now, Papa... you're gonna behave yourself right?" 

"It depends." Lips poked out in a purse. 

"Ichiro,"

"Beatrice."

"You can't go in here upsetting these white people. Now getcha act together." Sliding a hand across her lower back, his mouth came close to her ear. 

"Fuck these white people." Irked eyes upward made him grin. 

"Be that as it may, sweetheart, they the only ones that's gonna let you live here with me legally. You wanna mess that up?"

"We have a perfectly fine and legal house back in Kurashi-"

"Beatrice Jones and Ichiro Matsuda?" Straightening up, she turned to him and reached up and ran quick hands down the lapels of his suit jacket. Running eyes over his appearance, she swallowed an anxious breath and turned to face the bald-headed man standing outside his office. Taking the lead, she first headed into his office, head and eyes straight ahead of her, not focusing on the stunned incredulous eyes that drifted down across her appearance, briefly on her stomach. And he next, his eyes not focused ahead of him but on the still-staring man. They glanced at each other briefly too before the office door closed. 

"So...you want citizenship, boy?" He asked as he came around to sit at his desk. He didn't answer right away, just stared holes into him. 

"Can he talk?" He asked Beatrice, who replied that he could. 

"Well? I don't have all day." His voice was frigid when he spoke but there lingering on his mouth was a slight smirk. 

"Yes. I want citizenship." Not off put by his tone, the man sat back into his chair, cheeks and ears red. 

"Why should I give it to you?" At that, Beatrice who once had been sitting stood up. 

"Sir, I-"

"I wasn't talking to you, girl. Sit down." She was slow to do so but she did it, gripping the chair tightly on her way down. By now, the smirk was gone and his gaze had a certain glint to it. 

"Let the boy speak for himself." 

"I don't understand your question." 

"Slow on the uptake huh?" He glanced once again to Beatrice, who sat real pretty and still in her white and red polka-dot dress. 

"You waltz in here like you're somebody important. With a pregnant nigger." Now, he turned his eyes completely onto Beatrice. 

"Is it his?" The question stabbed deep into her but she carefully composed her face and gripped her hands together. 

"Yes, sir. It is." 

"You sure or is that just what you told him?" To that, she didn't answer and her lack of response made him laugh. Sparkling green eyes drifted between the two of them and for a moment, it was silent as a door nail. 

"You got yourself tied up real good, boy. Didn't anybody tell you that nigger women are no good? They sneaky and conniving. Real good at tricking, though, by the looks of that bloated belly she got she been tricked out plenty." Licking his teeth, he turned his gaze back onto him. 

"So you want citizenship to fix the mistake growing in her stomach. Is that why?" His entire face had grown dark and the hand visible and gripping his cane had started to lose color.

"You got something you wanna say, Matsuda? I don't like how you're looking at me." Beatrice stood up and started to walk towards him. Gently, she reached for his free hand to which he gripped it with bruising force. 

"The child is not a mistake. It was very intentional." To that, the man's eyebrows lifted. 

"You're in love with her."

"Yes."

"Two diseases walking side by side." Sitting up straighter, the man opened the manila folder on his desk. 

"Well, let's see about you, Mr. Ichiro Matsuda." He was quiet as he read. 

"You were a member of the Imperial Japanese Army. 1937-1945. That in its own right would get you denied. And, were you in my neck of the woods, shot." Eyes dipping down to read more, he lifted them and drifted across his stiff hand on his cane. 

"You were imprisoned by the Commies. That must have been where you lost your leg." His lack of answer enabled the man to continue. 

"President Truman is the only reason why you're standing here in front of me today, boy. He contacted my department personally on your behalf. Spoke too highly of you. He thinks, for whatever reason, that you deserve American citizenship." Flipping the page, he glanced down at some stills from all those dinners and conferences he had attended while serving as envoy to the Emperor. 

"Tell me who the President of the United States was in 1845." At that, Beatrice's lips pursed slightly. Silence ensued. 

"How you gonna prove you a good citizen of this country and you don't even know its history, Matsuda?" Closing his file, he sat back once again in his chair and eyed the two of them for a while longer. 

"This office will require a literacy and American History test be taken by Mr. Ichiro Matsuda before being considered for citizenship of the United States of America. Should he not satisfy the requirements of this office, he shall expeditiously vacate these United States or risk being banned from reentry or imprisonment. 

"Along with that, Mr. Matsuda will submit something else with the results of his literacy test." Beatrice spoke up now, voice nice, sweet, and vicious. 

"That is?"

"A marriage certificate." 

End Notes:

 

A/N: WHEW HELLO LOVES! *sobs* Sooo I know I said I was gon upload later but literally, I could not WAIT lol. I have missed you guys! Thank you for being patient and waiting, I know it's been since what like August? Whew! I am finished with my program except the PCTB PRAISE BE TO GOD! *sobs more* lol. Whew it has been a JOURNEY YOU HEAR ME. This week I am studying to prepare myself so yeah. I hope your work weeks have all gone well! 

A lot has happened in this chapter LOL. I didn't realize I was writing THIS much and was like wellll I'ma flow. If it's one thing I'ma do it's flow LOL.  First and foremost, Ichiro MUTHA *censored* MATSUDA. THIS MAN RIGHT HERE. REALLY THREATENED HIS WIFE'S MOTHER. YES HE DID LMAO! Like for real for real told her I will kill you if you don't do what you're supposed to lol. I hollered man. He is just... there are NO WORDS lol. To a point, in my opinion, Bea's mother went too far this round. Poor Bea. Kiiiiiiinda on Ichiro team on this one likeeeeeee *yikes* 

Like don't assume ANYTHING because YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING lol. Ma'am your daughter lied to you (with completely good reason) first of all okay lol. The man ain't who she said he was. He will snap you in half and bury a piece of you in all 50 states LOL. DO NOT MESS WITH THE MATSUDA. 

On that note, these people be trying our guy don't they? How about for round two we have the ignorant immigration director?! Yeah in case you didn't know, down south they were KILLING BLACK PEOPLE who dared to vote or even breathe in the direction of a voting center. Let that simmer. Had Klan members showing up in full regalia to their house threatening to burn their house down and string em up if they left they house to vote. They was NOT playing out here. Literacy tests were a REAL LIFE THING, please look them up. They were vile and evil, directly targeting African-Americans, specially though from rural parts of the South. 

You know like I know that Ichiro was gripping that cane that hard to prevent himself from knockin ole boy in the head LOL. Whew. He lucked up that day lol. Anywhoo, I'm gonna stop my commentary for this chapter. I missed y'all. 

DL

 

さんじゅうはち by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

sanjuuhachi 

thirty-eight 

 

 

It was utter chaos. You would think that even though there were only seven or so people that it wouldn't be as hectic but she'd thought wrong. She had to pray to God above to keep her tongue as her Aunt and mother both fussed about her hair and was she going to wear the dress without a hat? Taking deep breaths, she lowered her hands down to the slight wave that passed across the skin of her belly. The small flutters and butterflies that had made her feel strange now were full-fledged movements. 

Glancing down at her bare stomach, she watched with a gentle smile as a small lump appeared to her side. A soft finger poked back at it and it disappeared. Smiling increasing, she sat at her mother's vanity completely nude. Door shut. Just for a moment, it could be her and her child. 

"Are you excited too baby? I'm gonna marry your Papa today. Again." Looking up at herself in the mirror, she let her eyes roam her naked body. 

"The first time you weren't in my tummy yet. But this time it's extra special because you're here too." Tears began to well up in her eyes and she let them cascade down her cheeks. It has been strange... this whole pregnancy thing. Her body hadn't known what to think, what to do. And yet... it had. It adapted and grew. Big. Wide. Full. Slow and sure, careful. Perfectly nurturing and caring for the precious life it held inside. 

She hadn't actually stopped to think about it much; just let things happen... run their course. The emotions that crashed into her. The never-ending appetite. The tender breasts and legs that would give out. It wasn't easy... but was it worth it? Absolutely. Her momma's guidance grounded her. It gave her strength on the days when all she wanted to do was cry. When all she felt when she looked at herself in the mirror was big, fat and ugly. 'You getting more and more ready now Bea baby.' She hadn't been entirely sure what that meant but feeling her child turn, shift, and press against her stomach for the first time had been nothing short of miraculous. 

"Do you remember the first time you kicked me?" There, the shift. Listening. Attentive. 

"I was layin' down with your daddy. The mornin' was nice and bright but all we wanted to do was lay around in the dark. So we did. Just as your daddy put his hand around my belly, you kicked." Laughing out loud, she grinned wide. 

"He went all still and quiet. I was in such disbelief that I gasped real loud like somebody threw cold water on me. And then you did it again." Stroking the soft skin of her bump, she let the tears well up again. 

"He pressed his palm flat against you and hugged me tighter. It wasn't until I had my hand there too that you kicked one last time as if to say you were there and you were glad we were there too." With a small sigh, she lifted a hand to wipe her tears. 

"I wonder if this is how you felt, Ruby." She had been dreaming about her. Sometimes, they'd be sitting down on Momma's wraparound porch, dressed in casual dresses, and talking. Picking up from where they left off. Other times, she'd be back at that cell hand pressed to Ruby's belly from in between the bars. But then Ruby's hand would be pressed against her own. She'd cry and weep and her friend would just smile with resigned eyes.

 She was about as far along as she had been then. Everything engorged and big and more growing still to do. At 7 months now, had Ruby been ready? Of course, she'd already had children before... that hadn't been her first pregnancy. But...how had she coped with knowing that all these beautiful, painful and emotional moments with her child would come to an end? She imagined her being in that cell laying on that hard cold concrete, talking and confiding in the only thing that was there to listen... her baby. 

Thoughts of it broke her down and there were times when she'd cry for no reason... just out of nowhere. She was anxious. She was scared. She was increasingly uncomfortable and her sleep was disturbed. But even so, she was thankful. Grateful. Blessed.

"Bea baby, Pastor Bailey has arrived." Sniffling, she cleared her throat and hastily wiped her face now. 

"Yes ma'am."

"I'ma help you get dressed."

"Okay, Momma. Thank you." Sitting up in the chair, she waited until the door slowly came open and her mother peeked in before gripping the arms of the chair to prepare to stand. 

*** 

He'd been out on the porch smoking a cigarette when the sound of a throat clearing cut into the silence. Eyes turned to find a man by the door, hand still on the knob. The two of them didn't say much and he was the first to withdraw his gaze, focusing on the sprouts and leaves of the new vegetables Bea and her mother had planted. 

"You gotta nother smoke you can spare?" Placing his in between his teeth, he reached into his pockets and retrieved one, giving his lighter to the man, who accepted and thanked him. It was quiet out here, out in the early morning. For a summer day, the morning was cool but it felt good to him. The women had taken over the kitchen and it had grown stuffy inside the house. The older man glanced over at him as he blew out the nicotine in his breath. 

"Name's Mack. I'm Bea's uncle." He gave a single nod of acknowledgment. 

"What's yours?"

"Will." 

"Ah, okay. Well, Will. Nice to meet you. Pity it couldn't have been before today." 

"Hm." 

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

"No." Mack returned his earlier nod with one of his own. 

"I assume you're out here to tell me that you'll bury me ten feet under if something ever happens to her, right?" The man, to his surprise, actually laughed, smoke shooting out from his nostrils. 

"Ruth already covered that base it sounds like." He said in between chuckles. 

"I ain't gon lie to you, I'm overprotective over Beatrice. But, from what I've observed so are you. So, in that way, I guess we understand each other." Interest peaked, he turned to look at him. 

"Della and I don't know nothin' about you. Other than the fact you some Japanese guy Bea somehow found and brought way back here from outta nowhere according to her momma." His tone was calm and heavy, friendly even.

"Way I see it, if Beatrice wanted us to know about you, she woulda told us." More smoke wafted between them. 

"Unlike her Aunt and Mother, I feel different. Bea ain't no little girl no more. She a grown woman who lives her life the way she want to. Her decisions are her own and she got plenty good reason for some of 'em I reckon. Like why she ain't tell us about you. Sure there was a pretty big reason." He didn't answer outside of an exhale of nicotine. 

"Rightfully so, Will, I'm curious as all hell about you. You're one mysterious guy."

"Am I?" Mack grinned. 

"Yeah. Mista tall doom and gloom. Ya neva smile and half the time you look like you constipated." With a sigh, his entire body relaxed and the apprehensive tension left his shoulders. 

"There are never things that soldiers smile about unless you live long enough to take a shit."

"So you are a veteran?"

"Yes."

"Ruth mentioned that. Served in the Army?"

"Yeah." 

"Yeah, I reckon there are plenty things you saw that wouldn't make a man smile much." 

"Are you a veteran?" 

"No. It was pure luck. I have flat feet and by their standards, I was too short. Somehow, that didn't make me able-bodied enough to serve in the Corp." 

"Ah," Quiet hugged them for a while longer before, 

"I noticed you ain't got no kind of family out here. No man to talk to. Why's that? You'd think they would be here on the biggest day of their son's life."

"It's complicated." Is all he said, lifting his cigarette back up to his mouth. 

"Hm. Guess so then. Well, " To his surprise, he lifted his hand and gently clapped his shoulder. 

"How you feelin' bout everything? We men handle things different than women do. But, that don't mean we ain't feeling the same thing they are." Flicking the butt across the porch ledge, he just as quickly pulled out another one and lit it, an unspoken confirmation. 

"I been where you are, son. Young. Scared shitless. When you approaching fatherhood, everything scares you. You start thinking bout everything. Doubting everything." 

"Hm." 

"You see your woman go through her changes, watch her belly grow and her fear increase. So it make you just as scared. Though, you'd never tell her that. We try to be strong, solid, and supportive like a pillar. Cause that's what we been told to do. I reckon it would be okay to let that wall come down once in a while." He seemed to be digesting his words well though he still hadn't replied. Mack took the cue to continue, 

"Every one of us are scared, Will. Ruth is scared. Her only daughter about to become a mother in a few months. She sees herself in Bea... wants to try to prevent her from making some of the same mistakes she did. She's also grieving still. She neva got over the death of her husband, Joe or her son." 

"Hm."

"Della was there through it all. Tried to convince her sister not to run off with Joe but she did it anyway, causing a rift between their parents that neva was the same. It's like history repeating itself." The man ran fingers across his short hair. 

"Ruth told me about y'all conversation. Where you threatened her." Eyes now back on the growing garden, he was quiet as the man talked. 

"She didn't understand like I did... you wasn't threatenin' her cause you were some heartless bastard. You did it cause you were tryna do what you know best how to do. Protect what's important to ya. Besides, she doesn't think about the fact that men can be afraid too with these things. You're scared-"

"Out of my fucking mind. Yes." He cut in before blowing the last of the nicotine-filled smoke out of his mouth. Dropping the cigarette instead of flicking it he crushed it underneath his shoe. Mack didn't say a word, only smiled, nodded, and lifted his hand to his shoulder one last time before going back into the house. 

"Welcome to the family, Will. You'll be just fine, son." 

*** 

Excitement doused her body but nervousness was there to dry her off. Taking one last look at herself, she watched as the arms of her mother came around her shoulders. 

"I look like a whale in white Momma... Lord Jesus." Her mother's gaze was full of emotion and she shook her head against her. 

"You look like my pretty Bea baby. My smart, pretty Beatrice Grace." 

"You think he'll think I'm pretty?" It took her mother a while before she answered, watching her daughter analyze and pick everything about her appearance apart. 

"I know he will, Bea." Lifting her daughter's head, she made her look at her in the mirror. 

"Straighten up baby. You a Jones woman. Never let 'em see you lookin' down." Feeling pride hit her in the chest, she swallowed down her self-depreciating feelings and gave her mother a strong smile.

"That's right. Now, let's gon down here and get you married to that crazy man of yours." No argument to that, she turned to face the door. Giving her a small smile, her mother opened the door and waited until she walked out into the hallway before following her. As they came down the stairs, the chatter below started to wan. Her Aunt Millie and Uncle Darryl were here from North Carolina, Aunt Della and Uncle Mack from Michigan. Pastor Bailey. And then there was her man, sticking out from amongst them like a sore thumb. Their eyes cut into her and she tried to shoo away the feeling of self-consciousness as their gazes fell to her pregnant stomach. 

"Well, there's the pretty bride." Mack smiled big and wide and stood up from the couch. Aunt Millie wore her shock well on her face, and she kept looking back and forth between her and Ichiro. She didn't say much, just gave a tight pained smile as she got up to hug her. Uncle Darryl kissed her on the forehead but otherwise didn't interact with her. 

"Don't pay them no mind. They haven't seen you in a real long time. They just shocked." Mack whispered against her temple as he wrapped large warm arms around her. Her fingers started to pinch the backs of her hands. Pastor Bailey took a good look at her, her condition and cleared his throat. 

"If the bride and groom are ready then we will begin." All other family pulled away from her at that moment, leaving just the two of them. He watched her pick at her hands and with a couple heavy footsteps crossed the space in between them. Reaching for them, he grasped them in his hands, causing the action to cease. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop in the living room. But, somehow, as soon as he looked at her, all else seemed to fade into the background. He didn't say much, preferring to let his touch speak for him. 

Letting go of her hands, he lifted both of his own and took hold of her face. Eyes downcast now met his. The silent conversation that seemed to take place between the two of them, her hands lifting to press against his chest, the life that lit a small warm fire in his eyes as he looked down at her, the lips that pressed a single kiss against her forehead, the entire exchange left everyone breathless. Whatever he said in his actions she received with a breath and small smile and soon their hands dropped to entangle themselves. Turning towards the pastor, they stood side by side and never once let go of each other. 

"Bea, are you ready?" Bailey asked, smiling at her. 

"Yes, sir." His gaze firmed up a tad but still warm as he looked at Ichiro. 

"And you, son?" A single nod. 

"Well then, let's begin." 

*** 

Screaming filled the house in the wee hours of the morning. The agony of a woman etched itself into the walls and neighbors were awakened. Knocks on the door and hurried concerned footsteps entered. 

*** 

"How you began is of no importance, really. What matters is that you have a story. A history. An unbreakable bond. In just minutes, the two of you have shown us all that you have just that." 

*** 

"Millie, get towels from the linen closet! Della, you call the midwife yet?"

"She said she on her way. She 30 minutes out." 

"Poor girl, she need somebody now." 

"I birthed babies before. I fill in till the midwife get here." One of the neighbors next door spoke up but there was no time to argue or debate. 

"Good enough, come on." 

*** 

"Family can be funny sometimes. The unit can be twisted up and dysfunctional. It can be large and warm and understanding. Plenty of questions. Plenty of curiosity. Fear. Worry. Just how are we going to do this? Are we going to survive? These questions we all ask ourselves at times. For those about to become new parents, it is frightening." 

*** 

Opening the door, they found Beatrice on the floor naked as the day she was born, her nightgown ripped off and thrown away from her and in tears. 

"Bea baby...momma's here." She knelt over the sobbing woman and tried to get her to sit up. 

"Momma..."

"I know, my girl. Let's get you comfortable. Come on." Her and her Aunt helped her sit and lift to stand. 

"She can't be naked like this, Ruth." Millie.

"It's her choice. Bea baby, you want something on?"

"No!" 

"There we have it. Come on, up, girl, up. Let's lay you down." The women helped move her back to the bed and laid her on her back. 

"Looks like we well past early labor now. She almost ready to start pushin." The woman from next door, now known as Loretta, said as she accessed the appearance of her dilated cervix. 

"How open is she?"

"Bout as big as she can get." 

"How long early labor last her?"

"Bout 8 hours already." They ceased speech as a contraction ripped through her, long and short breathy wails escaping her mouth. 

"Breathe, Beatrice. In through your nose now, come on." Soaked with sweat, her body trembled from the pain and she couldn't do anything but weep. 

"Where's my husband...where...is...he?!" She grunted, trying to fight against the urge to push. 

"I ain't... pushin' till he... get... in... here." 

*** 

"God works in mysterious ways, don't he? He knows what we need and when we need it. Without us even havin to tell him or ask him. He knew you would need this man. He's your backbone, he's your strength when you get weary. As strong of a woman that I know you to be, Beatrice Grace Jones, sometimes you need a moment to be weak." 

*** 

"ICHIRO! Oh Godddddd ICHIROOOOOO...." 

"Who the hell is Ichiro? What she goin' on about?"

"Who the hell else, Millicent? That must be Will middle name or somethin' get him in here before she passes out." 

"Men ain't allowed in the woman's birthin room. She gon have to-"

"Gawddamn it, if you ain't gonna get him I'm gonna do it. Move the hell out my way!" Beatrice hissed, trying to get up, amidst the arms strugglin' to hold her down. 

"Now, now Bea, focus on ya breathin baby. We'll get ya man. Focus on ya breathin." 

"If you ain't gonna help her birth this damn baby then git the hell out the room, Millicent Lee. GIT!" Ruth hollered, causing the woman to flinch. Turning on her heel, she flung open the door and ran down the hallway and down the stairs, her heavy footsteps thumping on the way down. 

"Loretta, can you go and get Will?"

"Sure thing. Um..."

"You'll know him when you see him. Big tall Asian man."

"Yes ma'am." 

*** 

"Sometimes, it ain't good for a man to hold all of his pain inside. It ain't good to be alone. That's why God made a woman from the rib of Adam. He formed and molded her into flesh and blood, a gift for Adam. A helpmate. What's your name, son?"

"Will." 

"We as men can be lone wolves sometimes. Our big wide shoulders carry so much of the world. What I see is that you need a safe space. You crave it so bad and I'm sure for years, being in the military, you didn't feel like you had any place to go where you could just... let all the weight fall. I get it. I see it. Beatrice is your safe place. God knew you needed her to be your peace. That's why he made her. Just for and only for you." 

*** 

Coming onto the front porch, the heaving woman scanned the men sitting in a little cluster on the porch, all with cigarettes mashed up into their mouths. All but one sat. He stood up and stood still, composed. Except his hand revealed his anxiety as it lifted a shaky nicotine stick to his firm flat mouth. That had to be the one. Like a needle in a haystack, he was most obviously different from the others and yet he seemed to blend in just as well. 

"Is Will out here?" She took the liberty of asking even though she knew. His dark gaze lifted and for a moment, she stared into his bewitchingly intense monolid eyes. 

"S-She...She wants you." Is all she could utter, watching as he took one last inhale and snuffed out the remaining stick, slipping it into his pocket. Without a word, he brushed past her, entering into the house behind her. Swallowing, the woman cleared her throat and soon followed him, who was nearly up the stairs by then. 

*** 

"It gives me hope seeing you two. The journey hasn't been easy. I don't have to know you to know that. And maybe the journey ain't gonna be easy moving forward. But when times get rough and you don't know how you are going to make it another day, Beatrice, grab hold to him. Will, grab hold to her. Don't let go." 

*** 

It reminded him of a battle scene. All the blood. The pain, the agony, the suffering. A battle that only his wife was fighting. For a moment, he couldn't move. It was like his feet were nailed to the floor and all he could do was watch her writhe and scream, tears, blood, and sweat. All he could do was witness the miracle, the power, the divinity that existed within her little naked body, as it contorted and stretched, trembled and thrust to bring forth the tiny being that had been but a seed breathed and made from their love. 

"Will! She needs you now. Come here." The firm voice of her mother smacked him out of the reverie and he came into the room. The woman who had fetched him now knelt on the bed, in between her legs. Drawing closer, his chest felt like a balloon and at any moment, with one prick, it would explode open. Jaw clenched tight, he neared her until the contraction passed and she for a moment relaxed. 

"We should move her to another position now. Gravity will help." The woman from the porch ordered, getting up from the bed. The small cluster of women helped her rotate to the edge of the bed and it was then that she finally noticed him. 

"Ichiro... you're here..." 

"Would you like to try upright, Bea?"

"Yeah..." On three, they stood her up and she reached for him.

"Hold me daddy... please hold me..." Their fingers entwined and a sigh of relief hushed through her as his arms came around her. Light gentle fingers brushed back her hair from her face and lips pressed kisses against her brow. 

"You're unlike anything I've ever seen." His voice spoke softly against her temple. 

"I am in awe of you, my beautiful little fox." Language lost on the others, whatever he'd said made her smile and open her eyes to look up at him. One of his hands drifted down her back and began to slowly rub her tailbone. She seemed to melt under his touch and accepted it well with a tired closed-mouthed smile and content-closed eyes. 

"Rag." His hand requested and was given and he lifted it to blot the sweat from her hairline, nose, forehead, and chin. Bending down a tad more, he kissed her lips. 

"Are you ready to push?" He asked against her mouth, tiny loving pecks against her bottom lip. 

"Yeah..." Her breath had started to change and her brow now furled up. Pain started to enter her face and at once, she slipped her hands up the backs of his biceps and gripped his shirt. 

"I'm...I'm ready..." 

*** 

"With nothing left to be said, I proudly take your hand, Beatrice, and join it to this man, Will. Under the sight of God the Father, The Holy Ghost, and the Son, you are husband and wife. Yoked together until your souls depart from your mortal bodies, through trouble and calm, peace and illness, don't let go." 

*** 

Nails embedded themselves into him. 

"Push Beatrice!" Her screams and moans sent chills through his body. 

"Good girl, pushh...good now breathe." Blood soaked the towels that had been placed underneath her and she grunted, teeth clenched as she worked through the last of the contraction. As it passed, exhaustion weakened her and she fell against him, nails finally departing from his skin, taking with it the blood of his sacrifice. 

"Bea, we almost there. Baby's head I see it. Try grabbin' that chair and squatting." 

"No.... I can't...." She breathed, voice depleted and empty. 

"I'm so tired..." 

"Don't quit on me, Beatrice." It sounded harsh and hard coming out of his mouth and the woman coaching her flinched. 

"You ain't gotta talk to her like that, she's tryin' the best way she can." 

"No... no he...he right." Breathing hard through her nostrils, she tried to stand upright. 

"You right Papa..."

"No quitting?"

"No quitting." She agreed and he helped her get to the chair. Taking a seat behind her on the bed, he reached for her hips and slowly held them steady as she lowered herself down onto the plush cushion. Relaxing against him, she welcomed his hands as they slid up her shoulders. 

"When you ready, Bea baby. When you feel like you gotta push, push with everythin' you got." 

"Deep breaths, here?"

"Yes... okay..." It didn't take long for the contraction to start and she did her best to breathe through it but the intense pain incapacitated her and she gripped the sides of the chair, soon a sobbing mess. 

"You're doing so well. I'm proud of you." He encouraged her, dabbing her face of sweat. 

"So tired daddy... I want it out.... please..." As close as the chair would allow, he pressed his body against hers. Prying her hands away from the sides of the chair, he kissed her fingers. Her wrists and forearms received the same and he took hold of her arms just underneath the elbow. Pulling her back, he lifted her arms up and around his neck, forcing her hands to hold one another. 

"You gave me your word that you wouldn't quit." He whispered against her temple. 

"You're almost there. It's almost over." She sniffled, chin trembling as he pressed his face against hers. A wail rose up from her throat as she pushed and she gave it all she had, with the remaining strength she had left. 

"Her legs bout to go out, hold em' open for me, Will." He reached down and grabbed her under the knee and held fast, the muscles in her thighs trembling and unstable. 

"Good, a little more! Baby is halfway out. Push, push push!" With an almost enraged grunt, she hugged him close and bared down until the last of the baby finally came out. The shrill piercing cry of her child, despite her haggard breath, made her break down. Body going completely slack, only the arms of her husband kept her up and her exhausted sobbing made his throat heavy. 

"It's a girl! A beautiful little girl!" Emotion high, her mother began to cry and she rushed to hug and cover her daughter. It took a while before the umbilical cord was cut and the baby was cleaned and wrapped in a couple of blankets. By then, all Bea wanted was to see her. Gladly giving the woman her child, all stood in awe as she held her tiny little form against her chest, dipping her nose to smell her and press kisses against her head. 

"I think we should give the parents time with their baby now, what you think?" Teary eyes and smiles agreed and soon the two of them were left to themselves. 

*** 

As soon as the door closed, I remember starting to cry. I was in disbelief. Shock. Awe. A tiny human looked up at me, confused watery eyes trying to take everything in. I was instantly afraid... so fucking scared in that one moment that I wouldn't ever be worthy to love something so small and precious. I rummaged through Bea's drawers to find something comfortable for her to put on and settled on one of her robes. For just a moment, she separated from her as I helped her into it, pulling her back to rest against her breast. As happy as the moment was, watching the two of them, I felt a pang of intense guilt rip me open at the stomach. 

Memories of bellies housing children, innocent babies that did no man any wrong, knives I held in my hand, watching others in other hands... rip and cut and tear, silent bloody lumps, others almost fully and fully formed, enough that they had lungs to take in air, mouths to cry. The moment between the mother and the child... so many I'd crushed and stolen. I wasn't worthy. I didn't deserve to have my beautiful wife look up at me with happy tears. I didn't deserve to have her beckon me closer, to call out to me with that damned soft sweet voice of hers. But even so, I came closer like a defeated dog, tail in between his legs. 

*** 

"Ichiro," He stood in front of her but he didn't move, didn't do anything but weep, the emotion of everything too much for him. He hung his head low and his shoulders shook under the weight of his past. She knew it was tormenting him.... trying to steal and rob him of this moment of fatherhood. 

"Ichiro, look at me." He said not a word, just shook his head no...his breaths ragged and choppy. 

"You gon hurt my feelins if you don't look at me. You're gonna make me think I did somethin' wrong, Papa..."

"No." His voice was gruff and hard. 

"You have done everything right. Everything...more than what I could ever ask for..." 

"Then why won't you do as I'm askin'?"

"Because." The word was biting and harsh. 

"I don't deserve it." 

"Said who?" Tears now dripped onto the floor. 

"After everything I have done, who would think I'm worthy of this?"

"You ain't answer my question. I asked you who told you that?" It was quiet for a while before, 

"No one."

"No one. Right." Reaching for his hand, she took hold of it and he let her. 

"It wouldn't matter even if somebody did said it. My momma. My Aunt Millie. It don't mean a damn thing, not to me it don't." 

"Beatrice,"

"I decide what you're worthy of. You hear me?" Jaw clenched, finally, his eyes lifted and met her own teary ones. 

"You're more than enough for me, Ichiro. As you are... the man you are right now... that man deserves me." His fingers closed around hers. 

"This little girl deserves you as her father. No one else." Shaky breaths and sucked-up tears filled the room and he lifted his free hand to try to wipe them away. 

"I'm gonna fuck up, Bea. I'm terrified of fucking this up."

"We're both gon fuck this up, Papa. You ain't perfect and neither am I. We gon make mistakes. We been making mistakes. But haven't we always figured our way out?" He gave her a nod. 

"Right. We figure this out like everything else." 

"Mm."

"I ain't gon give up you. Don't you dare give up on me. I'll never forgive you if you do." He took in her words and finally closed the space between them, pulling her against him in a hug. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, the last of his tears slipping down his cheeks. To their surprise, the baby was quiet, choosing to sleep rather than cry.

"You wanna hold her?" Letting his fingers glide down the mess that was her hair, he allowed himself a smile, teeth and all. 

"Yes." 

*** 

I didn't know what the hell I was doing... how even to hold the tiny thing they called a baby. But looking down at her as she pressed against my chest, I felt my throat tighten. The sight of her nestled against my bare skin melted me into an endless sea of light and joy. A feeling I let myself feel. Taking a careful finger, I traced her little nose, a nose that she got from her mother. Small yet plump lips too from her mother. The shape of her eyes, her chin, the full head of hair. That... that I recognized as belonging to me and it made me laugh. What was certain was that this tiny little thing they called a baby... was most definitely mine. She was all mine. 

 

 

 

 

A/N: This whole entire chapter made me emotional. Like... I started thinking about my own mom (who is deceased) and what she must have been feeling while carrying me. It really was a personal chapter for me, so much of my heart went into this. The beauty and blessing of a mother... to be able to give life, bring life into the world. Yeah, I'm getting choked up. I miss my momma lol. I ADORE Bea and Ichiro's entire interaction, I love them together. How they talk to each other, how they act around each other. Just love THEM. My favorite part beside the privilege of writing Bea bringing their baby into the world was Ichiro receiving her at the end. I legit cried writing it... his fear, his guilt... his overwhelming love. This chapter is so powerful to me. I hope you enjoyed hehe. 

Love you all. 

DL

 

Bea's wedding dress:

Ichiro's look:

 

さんじゅうきゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

 

sanjuukyuu

thirty-nine 


 

"I would like to dedicate this book to a man who lived, loved, regretted, and eventually found freedom. He was one of the meanest, hardest yet most gentle people I ever had the pleasure of getting to know. This is the work that he didn't have the courage to finish, these pages hold his deepest darkest secrets, his words completely uncut and unscripted. I hope that you get to know and respect Mr. Ichiro Matsuda the same as I did. Thank you." Flashes of light punctured the air and the handsome man began to come down from the stage. 

"Mr. Ito! What is the name of the book? Mr. Ito, what will his granddaughter do with all of his war artifacts?" 

"You will have to see the title when it comes out next week. And as for that, I think you should ask Ms. Miller that, yourself." Pushing through the slew of voice recorders, note-takers and bodies, he made his exit from the press conference. It was finally done. His job was finally done. And now, now he could focus on other things... move on to more and better and greater. Though, he knew that a part of him would always and forever carry just the tiniest bit of Ichiro Matsuda with him. Getting into his car, hurriedly, he drove away and decided to take the scenic route. Slipping on his shades, he caught Asami's number pop on his wireless caller. Accepting the call, he smiled as he answered. 

"Hey, pretty lady."

"Hey babe." 

"What's up?"

"Nothin. I just finished watching you on the television."

"And?"

"You looked really hot." Her admission made him chuckle and grin like a kid in a candy store. 

"I did, huh?"

"Yeah. Kinda makes me wanna see you right now."

"Bad girl, you know you're supposed to be studying." 

"Weeeellll... I wanna study somethin' else for a little bit." His eyebrows shot up. 

"Now, you're just being a naughty girl, Asami." Her little giggle excited the hell out of him and he licked his lips. 

"I guess I have no choice but to come see you, hm?" 

"Guess so." 

"Be there in twenty."

"Can't wait." A smirk slipping up onto his mouth, he pressed on the gas just a little harder, the change in plans sure to be very appreciated and welcomed. They'd been playing it safe... playing it slow and steady for just over a year. He was more than ready to take the next step in their relationship and couldn't wait to see just how she felt about it. She didn't let him in her honey pot that often, tried to keep his hands out of the cookie jar. But times like these made it so damn hard to resist her, pun intended. Should he tell it honestly, he'd known from the first time they'd been intimate that he wanted to ring it up and put a little bow on it. The few times they'd made love after that only solidified the intensity of his feelings. Little did she know that he'd been planning and waiting. On the night of the book release, it seemed the perfect time to press go. 

*** 

It's funny how fast years go by. One moment you have one child and then it's three years later and you have two more. Fatherhood was perhaps one of the greatest things Beatrice could have ever gifted to me and to this day, I still remain in complete awe of her. The pressure was on me to get three things after the birth of our daughter; my citizenship, a job, and an updated prosthetic leg. The one I had was completely outdated and it was the one that caused me the most pain. The other one I only wore for special events so it never was used much. I preferred just my crutch or cane but seeing a man work with only one leg always caused people to stare. 

We'd decided that upon Riko's second birthday, we'd be in a house of our own and I'd work somewhere that would provide a decent life for the three of us. Ah, I forgot to mention that. We named our first daughter Riko after my mother. It wasn't customary in Japan to have two first names but because she was an American, we decided on Ruby, after Beatrice's friend from the war. Her full name, as listed on her birth certificate, is Ruby Riko Matsuda. A name I am very proud of. 

Coincidently, once Riko was born, Ruth Jones became a different woman. We'd never been on good terms. Until the day she died, we still bumped heads. But one thing she never had to doubt or worry about was if I loved her grandchild. I tried my damnedest to be the best father I knew how to be and I suppose my efforts proved my worth as a father to her. Even now, still I say and would say it to her face on that matter. Fuck her. The old crone and I grew to laugh, cuss and joke around each other throughout the years, a tough kind of love and that was just fine with me. 

Aside from the day my first daughter was born, the second proudest day of my life came when I received my citizenship to the United States of America. That day I'll never forget. 

*** 

Cream heels clicked on the asphalt and eyes followed the magnetic woman as she entered into the building. She wore a fashionable beige and black checkered dress, so form-fitting that it appeared painted on her body. It outlined her petite waist and slender yet round hips and small cap sleeves emphasized her dainty shoulders and bare arms. Short matching cream gloves covered her hands and she wore a sheer plate hat, streams of sunlight drifting through to cast beautiful shadows on her warm tawny skin. 

A man just as good-looking as her walked beside her and the two of them immediately drew attention. He was dressed in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick sinewy biceps and tailored white trousers, a slim black belt to provide a pop of contrast. He kept his hair in a more traditional style, a short yet tasteful pageboy. The two of them strolled up right to the office of Head of Immigration. Upon opening the door and setting eyes on them, the man's jaw dropped. 

"I'm sure you remember us from a year ago. Beatrice Matsuda." Taking her outstretched hand, he gulped as she mosied her way into his office and he could barely take his eyes off her ass long enough to see the cool gaze of the man that had accompanied her. Quick to close the door behind them, the man reached into his pocket and plucked out a handkerchief, dabbing at the sweat on his big fat forehead. 

"Don't you look different." Sitting in her chair, she lifted her leg to cross it and the exposed skin of her legs made the man red like a cherry. 

"I'm not the bloated pregnant nigger I was last time, huh?" 

"Most certainly not." The man drawled, not even hiding the fact that he was ogling her. 

"Yes, well, as promised, we're back! Aren't you glad to see us?" 

"You, of course. Him, no." She laughed, drawing a quick chuckle from the man. Ichiro, however, was less than humored. 

"Let's cut the bullshit, shall we?" Her voice was oh-so-sweet and he ate it up like white on rice. 

"You have something for me I presume?"

"Our marriage certificate. As promised." 

"It's a pity you're wasted on a mook like him. A real American man would be proud to have you as his wife." 

"Now, that's where I draw the line. Last time we were here, you humiliated him, made him feel less than every bit of the man he is, and disrespected me to Kazoo." Reaching into her pretty black purse, she pulled out an envelope. 

"I'm sure you've heard all about the men who served on the Japanese side of the war. Of course, we called em' monsters, beasts that deserved to be exterminated, and brutes. Truth is, they might not all have been like that." Getting up, she took her time approaching his desk, the slow switch in her hips seductive. 

"Let me tell you about my soldier man. He's every bit the animal you think he is." She whispered into his ear, drawing a surprised little moan from the fat fuck. 

"I had to talk him down from coming in here and cutting open the fat turkey neck you call a throat." Wide eyes lifted to her frosty ones. 

"Now, here's our marriage certificate. And," Reaching into her purse again, she retrieved another envelope. 

"Here are the results of his literacy test. A little spoiler, he passed 'em both with flying colors." Tapping it with her fingers, she smiled at him and stood up straight, pressing down imaginary wrinkles off her dress. 

"The next time my husband has to come up here to visit you, I won't be here. If you were wise, you'd give him every damn thing he asks for." 

"You threatenin' me nigger?" Lips smiled but her eyes carried hellfire. 

"No, sir. I'm not threatening you." One last time, she pressed her lips against his ear, making him stiffen up. 

"I'm warning you, cracker." She gave one last smile his way, teeth included this time. 

"I trust we should receive his papers within the next couple of weeks, right?" 

"Yeah. Couple weeks." 

"Ain't that good news, Papa?" Going right up to the seemingly mute man, she smoothed down his shirt and gave him a nice big smooch. 

"I think our job here is done huh? I'm ready to eat, what you say daddy?" He gave her a very satisfactory answer, a kiss that took her breath clear away and a palm full of her derriere. 

"Let's get a move on then." Fixing her smeared lipstick, she readjusted her hat. 

"Have a good day now, sir." She started to head towards the door, however, he stayed put, eyes staring holes into the man. The look on his face chilled him to the bone and he couldn't breathe properly until finally he released his invisible grip on his neck and closed the door behind him, joining his wife. 

*** 

I received my papers as promised about two weeks later. To my and Beatrice's surprise, something else had been in the mailbox. A small package with names we recognized. Tearing the parcel open, we found 22 neatly bound envelopes with the Imperial family seal on them. A check for each month over the last year and a half that had continued to show up to our home in Kurashiki. Counting up the total amount, it more than satisfied the needs we had and then some. Pressing my forehead against the bundle, I silently thanked the gods for their favor. Hopefully, it would convert well in American dollars. 

There tucked in the corner was a folded-up letter and before I could get to it, Bea had already started to read it. Minato and Etsuko had welcomed a child of their own in the time we'd been gone and their family was growing well. They demanded we visit. Aunt Junko was taking care of the house in our absence and she had welcomed a companion of her own, a stray dog that would follow her home. It made me smile, envisioning the animal following her into the kitchen as she cooked. 

In celebration, we went on a date and Beatrice's mother watched Riko. I wanted to make another child but Bea wasn't ready yet. She was still trying to get into the swing of things and become reacquainted with her body after giving birth. She didn't deny me or refuse me unless she didn't want to be intimate. I wanted to make her comfortable and feel good, so most times our lovemaking wasn't penetrative and included a lot of foreplay. It was there that night in a cabin located in Starved Rock State Park that I helped her re-learn her wants and her needs and re-tap into her power. 

Under the plethora of twinkling stars and black sky, flesh aglow and warm by the fire's light, she slowly let me back into her body, embracing the fear and welcoming the pleasure and pain of being filled up all over again. Slow and steady, it felt so good. Just like our first time. The tears that slipped down her cheeks were ones of relief, gladness, and vulnerability. Our bodies fell into a rhythm of their own and we let them. 

As we lay together in the glow of our climax, we talked about so many things, until we fell asleep with words still on our lips. The beauty and blissful quiet of the forest made me homesick for Kurashiki. It also gave me an idea of where we would want to settle. When we returned to Ruth Jones' house, we developed a plan to put our idea into action. We deserved our own little piece of heaven in this country and I'd make damn sure we got it. 

*** 

Pretty glossy black, curls upon curls. Skin kissed by the sun, a nice healthy color so reminiscent of the other love of his life. Tiny little lips that smiled and pursed, animated voice that babbled nonsense. Bright lively monolid eyes, full of warmth and trust. She consumed his thoughts nearly every day and it pained him to be away from her. Sitting her up on his chest, he felt himself chuckle as she lifted her tiny little hands and clapped them. 

"Happy are you?" Giggling, she clapped some more as he blew against her belly. 

"You're my world. You're everything good to me." 

"Da-da..." 

"Hm?"

"Da-da..." Teeth smiling, he couldn't resist kissing her cheek. 

"Riko." 

"Da-da."

"My Riko." She seemed satisfied by the confirmation and leaned forward to snuggle up against him in her favorite spot, right against his neck. Enclosing her with his hands, he listened as she took a little breath and yawned, wiggling closer before drifting to sleep. 

"Otousan will never leave you. I'll always protect you, my sweet girl." 

*** 

The time finally came when we had overstayed our welcome. Of course, Ruth Jones protested that we didn't have to go. But, Bea and I wanted and needed our own. It was thanks to the gods and to Bea's as well that the money we'd accrued all that time while in Kurashiki had transferred over in American dollars. Money that I would use to build a house, a place where she could plant her own garden, and a place where Riko could run around and get dirty. We gathered our things and made our exit. 

Our journey led us to so many places, places that didn't want us. So, we traveled around some more until we found fortune in Essex Junction, Vermont. By then, I'd bought a couple of nicer prosthesis and purchased a nice secluded spot with over 84 acres of land with plenty of forests, a lake, and babbling creeks. Away from the city with access to Mount Mansfield. The nearest neighbor 15 miles down the road. It was perfect. So I built. 

*** 

Screams and laughter surfaced as hands pushed torrents of water up from the lake to splash. 

"Ichiro, you're gonna get Ruby wet! Quit!" 

"Don't be such a brat and get in like I told you."

"No." 

"If I have to get out to get you, you're not going to like it."

"Oh yeah?" She teased with a grin, sticking out her tongue. 

"Mama, I swim with Daddy." Eyes sparkling, he grinned. 

"The child has spoken. Both of you get in here." Pursing her lips, she smacked her teeth and rolled her eyes. 

"You pickin' ya daddy's side huh, Ruby?" 

"I want Daddy..." 

"Lawd child all you say is daddy this, daddy that. You love your Papa huh?" The little girl giggled and nodded. Hoisting her up on her hip, the two of them began to laugh as they ran towards the lake. Dipping underwater, Bea surfaced to see Ichiro standing in shallow water with his crutch, hugging their daughter close. She pointed with her little finger out into the distance, the cluster of trees in the horizon. Kissing her on her forehead, he agreed with whatever she was talking about. She stayed put as the two of them swam into deeper water. 

"Don't be scared Ru baby. Come to mommy." With the help of her papa holding her body above water on her stomach, she kicked those little legs until she finally made it into her momma's arms. 

"Good job Ruby! That's mommy's baby!" Wrapping arms around her waist, he pulled both of his girls against him and welcomed a sweet little kiss against his mouth. 

"Are you happy?" His warm raspy whisper against her ear made her shiver and she bit her lip in a smile. 

"Very happy, papa." Smiling against her shoulder, he left them to dive underwater, the promise of warm soup to chase away the chill of the night, marshmallows over fire, and a steaming hot bath with his wife awaiting him. 

*** 

Those years were some of the best years of my life. I never wanted them to end. I loved the life we'd created for ourselves. All the hell we endured and suffered seemed even the slightest bit worth it. Our second child, Elijah Aoi Matsuda was born in 1954. We were lucky to have Bea's mother stay with us during her pregnancy and this time, we were much more prepared for a home birth, inviting a midwife who Bea had become comfortable with and befriended to stay with us on the property until it was time to deliver. This time, her delivery was a little easier and quicker than with Riko, for that Bea and I were glad. In '55, Joseph Teruo Matsuda was born and our last child, Ann Koharu Matsuda in '57. 

With the growth of the children came the growth of everything else. The strange lit-up talking rectangle they called television was advertised everywhere and eventually made it into our house, with restrictions of course. Hiking, cooking, grilling on the weekends, and letting the kids play in the forest was regular occurrence. In the summers, Bea would pick freshly grown cucumbers and tomatoes and make an amazing summer salad with chilled goat cheese that Riko helped her with. The boys and I would surprise her on her birthday with something handmade each and every year. Of course, I couldn't help myself in setting order and discipline. It's who I was. Thanks to their mother, I loosened up as they grew older. 

When we entered into the '60s, we found ourselves in the midst of yet another war, Vietnam. Seeing the soldiers on the black and white screen heading into battle sent flashbacks and memories from the war crashing back into me. It was a very turbulent time, full of civil rights and the cry of the people demanding freedom from injustice. We'd had our fill of war and didn't want anything else to do with any of it. 

We went to the jazz lounges to distract ourselves on weekends when the kids wanted to be at friends' homes or their grandmother's, among younger wilder musicians. We weren't entirely too old yet, we still had life. We still had fire of passion dripping through our veins for each other. Booze, cigarettes, and wild, frantic, mellow, calm, smooth jazz. Vodka and a fruity number. Arms, body heat, skin on skin, and plenty of kisses. Some nights, Bea would get on stage and sing a tune or two to prove to herself that she still had it. She never failed to grip the audience and each and every time I was transported back to the Oriental Pearl on the first night we met. Each and every time, I fell deeper and deeper in love with her. 

When things grew to be too violent in the States, we moved to Kurashiki and lived there for a couple of years until things died down. It was good for the kids to gain exposure to the other part of who they were. I enjoyed taking them to the same places my father had taken me as a child and watching them soak up their culture, rich history, and identity. It filled me with great pride. 

We had plenty of conversations with Riko and the others about the other students they went to school with when topics like why they appeared different or why their hair was curlier came up. It helped that Minato and Etsuko's older kids formed a protective unit around them and looked out for them. Oftentimes, I'd go to the school to pick them up. Being the kind of father I was, I'd give all of the little shits one good glare to scare them and the stories of being questioned seemed to wan as time went on.

As fast as it took one to blink, the years blended together and school passed, junior high school, high school. Before Bea and I knew it, the tiny humans we'd once held and learned to walk and talk with had reached adulthood. It was bittersweet, watching Riko leave the house first, to enter the workforce as a nurse, following in the footsteps of her mother. Aoi followed soon after that, to college for trade. Teruo and Koharu stayed with us the longest. Perhaps it was because of our children's desire to spread their own wings and fly that caused it. Maybe not. What I remember is that Bea started to grow ill consistently around a particular time of year. Winter. At the time, she didn't think much of it and neither did I. If I could go back in time, I'd do everything differently. I'd pay better attention.

*** 

"Ru baby, grab the groceries for me."

"Sure, Ma." 

"Eli, get the heavy stuff and bring them."

"Yes, Mom." As her two oldest started for the tasks she'd given them, the strangest thing happened. The air started getting real heavy, almost like a hand was slowly wrapping itself around her neck. Not in a good way, not in the way her husband did it. No, this way didn't feel good at all, it felt like-

"MA!" Brown paper bags dropped onto the snow. 

"OTOUSAN! DAD!" Hands dropped to drift across her body and face and Eli tried to lift her, who had fallen to the ground. Shoji shot open and the face of their father appeared in the doorway. 

"What happened?"

"Mom fell!" Not sparing time to gather a coat, he shoved open the thin screen and came rushing out as fast as his legs would allow. Kneeling, he scooped her up with ease and headed back into the house, leaving the siblings drooped in the snow. 

"Let's get in there, Rub. Come on," Eli said under his breath, bending to grab all he had dropped. Doing the same, the two of them soon entered the house. 

*** 

It took a few minutes of warming up before she came to, a thousand pairs of eyes staring at her. 

"Momma! You scared us!" Ann exclaimed, going right for a hug. 

"Ma, do you remember what happened?" Ruby asked, eyes full of concern. Her own blinked in confusion for a minute as she tried to gather her bearings. 

"I remember watchin' y'all head to the car and then... I don't remember a damn thing." 

"It's all right now. Ka-san's alive and well. Finish taking the bags into the kitchen." His voice cut through and everyone straightened up. 

"Yes, sir." Getting up, they scattered through the house, all rushing into the kitchen to talk. With a heavy sigh, the big body of her husband came to sit on the couch next to where she lay. 

"Don't start makin' it be somethin' when it's nothin' Ichiro." He didn't say a word, just turned those intense eyes down to look at her. 

"My body's going through changes again...it's all right."

"You're working too much. Too hard." His voice was firm and gruff but she knew, knew in the way his hand drifted down from the couch cushion to her waist. It was a cover for his concern. 

"That's the job of a nurse, baby. Work's never done."

"It's not worth pushing yourself to the limit, Beatrice." 

"Okay, Papa.... okay..." She conceded, starting to sit up. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. 

"I probably am workin' a bit too hard lately. I'll admit that." 

"And?"

"And I just turned 50 this year that's what the 'and' is. Hell, my body is freaking the hell out." Pressing a kiss against his neck, she gently bit into the skin there, causing him to release a slow breath. 

"My body can't give you any more babies. I stopped bleeding last year so no more periods. My skin is acting up which it ain't neva did before and I'm startin' to gain weight. I'm getting old, Papa." Brushing her nose against him, she inhaled him, the action making a break in the firm frowning lips on his mouth. 

"You are too, you know. I see them greys." 

"You're the reason they're there, woman. Stressing me the fuck out all the goddamn time." The two of them shared a laugh. 

"Well, I'm gonna keep stressin' you out. It looks good on you, daddy." Leaning her back against the couch, the two of them didn't take long to lose themselves in each other in lips, tongue, and breath, nostrils inhaling each other like an aphrodisiac. 

"Go through this change with me, baby. Let's jus' ride the wave and see where it take us." Her voice whispered up against his mouth. 

"Fine." With a grin of victory, she sat up as he released her. 

"You're sure it's not-"

"Neva that, daddy. Neva." Lips smirked as he got up off the couch, he chuckled. 

"Good. Later, then." A coquettish gaze and tongue-licked lips smiled as she stood up. 

"That'll make me feel a hell of a lot better." Just as she turned to head into the kitchen, he playfully gave her bottom a firm smack. 

*** 

Time had been kind to her and I in the 27 years of our marriage. We were the same and yet we were different. Some things hadn't changed. Our libido most certainly hadn't. When we couldn't get our clothes off fast enough and fucked like rabbits over and over again. When I wanted to take my time, sink into her nice and slow and she wanted to be filled up little by little until the fullness left her breathless and made tears bud at the corners of her eyes. The intensity, the stamina, the raw passion, power, and release. 

And yet, some things had most definitely changed. Sifting my fingers through her hair, the peeks of grey blended with the dark rich brown-black. Her hair was still very full and thick and it was lovely. My own obsidian strands revealed shocks of silver and I didn't mind them. They were beautiful because Beatrice called them so. She enjoyed playing with my hardened aging hands. Gently massaging the fingers, one by one. Followed the thick ropes of veins that weren't there the past decade with her fingertips. When she smiled, the beginnings of laugh lines appeared. When I did, the whisper of crow's feet hugged the sides of my eyes. Waking up in the middle of the night on wet sheets, only to see Bea standing in front of an open window, body shiny with perspiration. 

Skin smooth and supple in places, thickened in others, and all over golden amber. Hers was a body that carried the evidence of having birthed, stretch marks that threaded down and across the cheeks of her ass and across the sides of her stomach, trees of life, the roadmaps to the stars and heavens. Motherhood had made Beatrice even more beautiful, the slight droop of her breasts from years of supplying milk to my sons and daughters now brought me sustenance and renewed pleasure. Heavier wider hips and dimples of fat in thicker thighs. The imperfections she lamented over, I adored, I appreciated and I worshipped. Just as time had been kind to us, it also proved that it could be cruel and unforgiving.

*** 

1977

University of Vermont Medical Center 

He'd drowned out the beeps by now. Eyes staring at the jump of the green line that waved in waves and patterns on the small machine screen so long his eyes had grown watery. 

"Mr. Matsuda? Mr. Matsuda!" A loud voice disturbed his focus and he didn't hide his irritation at that fact, lifting chilly eyes upward. The white man in white. The doctor they called him. He preferred nuisance. 

"How are you today, sir?" 

"My wife is in the hospital. How the fuck do you think I'm doing?" Disinterested eyes cleared his throat. 

"Yes, my apologies."

"What do you want?" 

"I've come to talk to you a bit about what's going on with Beatrice." 

"Mrs. Matsuda." He corrected, eyes growing even colder as time passed. 

"Mrs. Matsuda. There's no easy way to say this but...she's dying." He froze and at once the chill in his eyes disappeared, confusion and distrust replacing them. 

"Explain." He ordered, eyes now finding his sleeping wife. 

"Last year, she had two major heart attacks within the span of a couple of months. It's a miracle she survived them both. What has her in here now are blot clots on her lungs." 

"Spare me the history lesson." He hissed, voice now vicious.

"What caused this?" 

"Ischemic cardiomyopathy."

"What the fuck is that?" 

"Let me put it in terms maybe you will understand. Her heart is failing. Has been failing." 

"No." Rough and low, the one word ripped through the atmosphere. 

"She didn't just get like this. This doesn't just happen."

"She more than likely was unaware of her unfortunate family history. It seems that heart disease and heart failure runs on both sides of her family. She had been predisposed to it at birth thanks to her mother and father." The way the doctor talked about her like she was a living, breathing disease, like it was nothing less than expected... it pissed him the fuck off. 

"If you knew all of that then why the fuck didn't you catch it in time? You're supposed to be our great white savior." He spat, coming to his feet. 

"It's not my job to correct patient negligence. Understand that, Mr. Matsuda. I understand you are upset but your anger is completely misguided." 

"Get out." Glancing at the woman lying in the bed, the doctor turned his back to him. 

"If you pull her out of here, she'll be dead by tomorrow morning. At this moment, the only thing keeping the blood clot in her lung from killing her is our medicine. Think about that before your next temper tantrum." He watched the door close, rage, tears, grief threatening to tear him to shreds. 

"He's full of shit." Drawing nearer to her bed, he lowered gentle fingers to caress her cheek. 

"You're not going anywhere. You gave me your word that you'd stay. Didn't you Bea?" 

 

End Notes:

 

A/N: Good morning! When I tell you that I literally avoided this for so long. I knew it was going to hurt me to write it lol. Ughhhh we're here! Can I just say that the way this man adores his wife's body. I don't find too many stories that discuss the realities of the bodies of the mother. It's glossed over, especially in this era of kpop idol stories and imagines where they have perfect bodies, perfect personalities, perfect intellect, everything is perfect.  

I enjoyed writing Ichiro and Bea as they have aged. The changing bodies, the grey hairs, etc. Another thing I noticed that I don't read about is mid life adults and even older adults having a very active intimate life. It's something we don't talk about, or want to think about, as if sex is only meant to be done with young attractive people. I wanted to show that even through the two of them had grown considerably older, that they still were very much into each other hehe. 

The ending made my heart hurt. I am NOT ready for the last chapter. Please grab your tissues now. I'm not ready to end ittttt omggggg I am not readyyyyyyyy *hugs Ichiro and Bea tightly to my bosom, Bea grinning and Ichiro frowning while looking like a grumpty pants* 

*sniff sniff* Let's finish this as strongly as we started this... together. 


よんじゅう by DarkandLovely
Author's Notes:

 

yonjuu 

forty 

** Grab your tissues. It's here** 

 

 

Feet on cool wooden floors and a shiver and chill. Frost blurred the windows and hands reached for a robe to cover the naked flesh bared to the morning. Slipping into old loafers, footsteps quietly neared a small table. Lifting a vinyl record, breath blew the dust off of the top and lowered it onto the disk. Amidst the rich golds, reds, and greens, the smooth raspy sound of Billie filled the space. Her eyes closed as the smell of pine and cedar drew closer, strong firm arms sliding around her waist. 

"Thinking about your grandma?" Smiling against a mess of bedhead, she nodded quietly. 

"Today is the anniversary of her emancipation from Mukden." 

*** 

So long after her passing, it was strange that she was starting to dream about her. It had been so long since she had, not since she had been a child. Six years old. It had taken her so long to stop dreaming about her and all of a sudden now, here she was again, playing in her dresses and trying to walk in her shoes all over again. 

*** 

"What are you doin' in here Asami?" Eyes that conveyed being busted looked up at the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, save for her own mommy. 

"Nothin'" Pursing her lips, the woman crossed her arms, over a silky beige number, like something from the 30s. 

"Don't lie." Hair long and curly, the grey-free strands fell from over one of her shoulders.

"So, you found it." 

"Found wha-" The closet in her room had turned into Grandpa's office, door ajar. And she, had the voice of a little girl, but she was fully grown. 

"It was only a matter of time until you did. There was always somethin' about you Asami." 

"What'ddya mean?" Offense. 

"You too much like me, girl. Your grandpa kept tellin' you that."

"That's why he loved me so much." Her eyes were warm and clear as a crystal as she looked at all the journals, scattered pictures and ripped out pages. 

"Well, what's your verdict?" Turning her eyes onto the woman, she blinked her very obvious confusion. 

"My verdict?"

"When your Aunt and Uncles found all this cooped up in here, they shunned your granddaddy. Told him to go to hell and hoped he died nice and slow." 

"They couldn't have said that, Grandma. He was their father." Her eyes were now sad. 

"He took it hard. It nearly destroyed him all over again."

"Again?"

"He's died so many times in his life. It's not fair for anybody. At some point, you should be allowed to live. Should be allowed redemption." She contemplated her words. 

"What are you gonna do with all this?" 

"What?" 

"Our lives. Our stories. The hell we went through. What are you going to do with it?" Lifting her arms up to hug herself, she answered real quiet. 

"I don't know." 

"Well, baby, whatever you decide.. put it to good use. Don't let it all go to waste." She was about to speak again but when she turned around, her grandma was gone. 

*** 

Again. Again. So many deaths in his life. And yet the one that he never revived himself from hit him in the most vile way, completely without mercy. As good and grown as she was, she feared she'd forever be haunted by his cries, his screams, and the utter destruction that resulted from his grief. 

*** 

1980

University of Vermont Medical Center 

11 am 

 

"Sir, we will call the police! Please, settle down!" 

"Dad, please!" Who existed before them wasn't a man. It took the form and face of their grandpa but it released sounds she'd never before heard a human make. A deep rippling howl, filled with agony and torment. Teeth bared and breath hissing, he reached for and threw the chair he'd been sitting on against the adjacent wall. 

"Bring her back." He snarled, eyes incoherent in their frenzy of rage. 

"She's dead, Mr. Matsuda, we cannot bring her back!" 

"You lying pieces of shit! Bring her back! Now!" 

"Dad! Stop it!" 

"Get your fucking hands off of me! Beatrice!" He called but there was no response. The woman he called out to laid there in her hospital bed, relaxed and calm as if she had just fallen asleep. She made no move, not a sound. There was no rise and fall of her chest. Everything was just...still. 

"Daddy! Stop it!" Ann screamed before sinking to the floor, arms hugging herself. 

"Dad..." Eli and Joe both... tried for the sake of their sisters to keep composure. 

"What good are doctors if they can't save people?" The man finally loosened up enough in the arms of his sons that they finally let him go. 

"What the hell was the point? What good are they, Bea?" The sound of Ruby consoling Ann filled in the cracks of silence. Blank eyes stared into nothingness, saw nothing as the cluster of them filed around her bedside. Sniffling and choked breath and nearly silent whispers. Saw nothing still as their children left the room, leaving the two of them alone. 

That damned beeping machine no longer made any noise, the patterns and jumping lines were now two singular flat lines. Throat full of unshed tears, he tried to take a breath and bring himself to his feet. Each step closer to her bedside felt as if someone was stabbing him in the gut and by the time he finally stood above her, his gaze was blurred by tears that fell at will. 

"You told me..." Too overcome with emotion, he allowed the words to fall off his tongue and tears to drip from his chin for a moment before trying again. Sucking in a breath, he leaned down over her, hands crushing the sheets on either side of her head. 

"You promised me. You promised me that you would stay...with me. You told me that you would never leave me..." Drops of pain marred the serenity on her face and dared to disturb her beauty. 

"Were you lying, Beatrice? Did you lie to me?" His bottom lip and chin started to tremble and he hung his head now, fingers now fisting the sheets. 

"What am I supposed to do now?" His voice asked, barely there. 

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He suddenly yelled, throat now so tight it hurt to speak. 

"I...I can't...I can't live without you..." Now a whisper, he pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed and leaking.

"How... can you expect me to do this without you?" Opening his eyes to fresh pain, he lifted his hand from the sheet and gently caressed her face, skin still warm. Blood not yet having turned cold. For the last time, he traced her lips with his thumb, gently parting them. Closing the gap between them, he kissed them, relishing how soft they were. 

"My beautiful girl...my Beatrice..." Kiss drunk, he tried to breathe love and life back into her by way of his lips, crumbling finally upon her own finally becoming stiff and cold. A single forlorn wail enveloped the room, followed by hyperventilating breaths and uncontrollable sobbing that turned into rough broken screams. 

*** 

She never again saw him smile after the farewell at the hospital. In a way, she had witnessed two deaths at such a young age. The death of her grandfather's heart, the vanishing of his soul too like her grandmother had turned into ash. The man who had laughed until he cried, until the funny bird feet tickled the corners of his eyes died. The man who had hope, faith, and the desire to live had died in that hospital room. Grandpa's journal during this time was empty. For years, he never wrote one word. His crushing depression and isolation pushed away his remaining children and his increasingly erratic spurts of memory loss and poor judgment made them think he was going insane. And maybe he had. Retreating inside of his mind to cope with everything. 

Now, however, it made sense. It made sense why Aunt Ann and Uncles Joe and Eli stopped coming to visit. Stopped participating in his care. Completely cut contact and severed all family ties and responsibilities concerning him. They had to have discovered his office. The house was free for the gander before she dropped out of college to move in. He'd lock himself in his room, drink himself into a coma, and smoke cigarettes, even though by then the doctor had given him his last warning to quit. They must have ventured in upon cleaning up and going through Grandma's belongings.

Her mother must have seen everything too. But, unlike her siblings, Ruby felt conflicted. She for the longest time tried to deny everything until it served her no purpose to do so. The pictures of him didn't lie. The newspaper clippings didn't lie. His own admissions confirmed everything as truth. Even so, she... she couldn't ever bring herself to completely hate him. She once lamented for not having the courage of her siblings. But now, now she felt different. She felt like she did.

Ruby Riko Matsuda had a bond with her father that perhaps none of their other children had. It had been etched and woven into the very fabric that made her who she was. She, could not by any means, abandon him. No matter how much she may have wanted to. She just... couldn't. She understood her mother more than she knew. And now, now she had an idea of just what to do. How she could make sure that all of their sacrifices would not go to waste. 

*** 

"Are you aware of how much money the old man left her? And you're letting her waste it to do this?" 

"That old man was your father."

"Old bastard. I hope he's burning in hell." 

"Joseph!"

"Don't act like you didn't see it either Rub. You saw what he did to those children, to those men and women. He fucking buried them alive!" Ruby was silent, eyes leaving the enraged gaze of her brother to fall upon her daughter, who stood talking with the contractor. 

"He left her all this land too."

"You have no right or reason to feel jealous Joe. You were the one who abandoned him, not the other way around." 

"The least the son of a bitch could have done was leave you some, Ruby." He did, but that wasn't any of their business. 

"No matter how you feel about him, when talking to me, respect him, or else I'll beat the shit out of you. Both of you. I'm still your oldest sister." Both of them shut up and she sighed, sifting her fingers through short curly black strands. 

"Asami doesn't need your permission or your approval. Have a problem with what she's doing, stick it up your asses and keep going. She was there for him. You weren't." Giving them both a fierce glare, the woman walked down the encampment to join said daughter. 

"How's it going sweetie?"

"Good. They'll be here sometime next year."

"Okay, that sounds great."

"In the meantime, I'm gonna have them level the land and decorate it to make it look like what you and I remember." Smiling, her mother brushed a curl away from her cheek. 

"I wish I had've had the courage to do all of this before now but..."

"What matters is that you have it now, Mom. That's all I can ask for." 

"I'm proud of you, Sami. Grandma and Grandpa would be too."

"You think so?" 

"Most definitely." 

*** 

Time was funny like I said before. Time, the mysterious construct of minutes and seconds and nanoseconds. It somehow always sped up when you didn't want it to and seemed to slow down when you needed it to. Time is the mind and the mind is time. My mind scares me. I feel like I'm forgetting her. Forgetting the one thing that gave my life meaning. I can't forget her. I can't let time take her away from me again. I don't know much but I know that I've spent my life trying so hard to atone for my mistakes. She was my reward. My reward for trying...and...and...I forgot my car keys. Not sure where I put them. But I remember that my name is Ichiro Matsuda. And I was married before. Married to one woman for 50 years. Her name starts with a B. B-something. B...B...B what? What comes next after B? She must have been my wife and I must have loved her. A lot. 

*** 

That was the last entry in his journal that she read before she closed the massive book. It had been a ride, it had been a journey but it had been life changing. With this... with Takeru, her and even her mother... the world would never forget Ichiro Matsuda and Beatrice Jones.

*** 

"Today, on NEWS11, we will be touring two extremely special properties. Created by one amazing young woman by the name of Asami Miller-Ito, a dynamic museum is now open to the public in the beauteous Essex Junction. For all you history buffs and WWII collectors, this place will be sure to delight even the most avid fan! Linda Stewart, reporting. Linda, how is it out there?" 

"It's absolutely beautiful, Glenda! We're here just up the road in Essex Junction, with the lovely Asami Miller-Ito at what she has named, 'The Road to Redemption WWII Museum'. Asami, what gave you this idea?"

"Yeah, so welcome to the Road to Redemption Museum! I really didn't come up with the idea, I think it had always been inside me to do! My grandfather, Ichiro Matsuda was a soldier who served in the Imperial Army of Japan during the war. His life as a soldier in the Army was so extremely different from the man I grew up knowing."

"How did you come to learn of his past?"

"Well, I grew up here on the property and would always come to visit. My grandfather had this room, an office, that he forbid anyone to go into, except him and my grandmother." 

"And one day, you looked?"

"My grandpa had been fighting laryngeal cancer for a long time and he lost his fight about two years ago."

"Oh my God, wow, I'm so sorry to hear that." Asami smiled softly, her eyes warm. 

"Yeah, it was really rough for me. I was serving as his full-time caregiver so it was a major blow when he passed. During that time, I finally sucked up my fear and entered the office. What I found changed my life." 

"I'm sure it did." The camera panned to the house they stood in front of. 

"Can you tell us about the first house here?" 

"Sure! This was my grandpa's birth home. He was born and raised in Okayama prefecture in a small fishing and trade town called Kurashiki."

"It's incredible. Massive."

"His father was a very successful businessman and war veteran, having served in the First Russo-Japanese war. They lived a comfortable life." 

"Wow. Seems like the military was a call that was attached to your grandpa's life from his birth."

"Absolutely. It meant a lot to him to follow in his father's footsteps." 

"If you don't mind me asking, your grandma was African-American, yes?" 

"Yes, she was."

"Tell me how that happened. How did these two people from two different worlds meet and fall in love?" Smiling, Asami bit into her lower lip. 

"That, Linda, is something you're going to have to find out on the tour!" 

"Arghhh! Guys, I tried to get the scoop but she's not budging." The two women shared a laugh together. 

"So, you've also built a museum of another house. What's this?" The camera panned to an old wooden shack and porch that had clearly been restored. 

"This was where my grandmother was born. It's where she lived her childhood."

"Where was she from?"

"Huntsville, Alabama. Born 1925."

"Just incredible."

"Her name was Beatrice Jones, later Matsuda when she married my grandpa. She was kidnapped and forced into a concentration camp in Shanghai that was known as Mukden Labor Camp. She suffered so much and fought so hard to survive." 

"What a strong woman she was. I cannot even imagine." The two of them walked a bit further before the beautiful woman spoke again, 

"With my grandpa and grandma both having passed, I wanted to do something to honor their memory, tell their story and show people that love is possible, no matter which side you find yourself on." 

"They've left an incredible legacy, that's for sure! What are your hours?"

"We're open Monday thru Friday 9 am to 6 pm Eastern Standard Time. The history, the images, and other materials presented in the museum can be very disturbing to some people so please use viewer discretion. We are a war museum so I need to put that warning out there. We do provide a kid-friendly version of the exhibit, toured by my mother, Ms. Ruby Matsuda. The child exhibit is open 8 am to 2 pm." 

"Asami also offers hiking tours, wood-shop, costume pictures, and painting for the kiddos as well so please bring them out! Before we go, can you tell me what that building is there?" The reporter pointed to what looked like the replica of a nightclub, with sounds of Duke Ellington, Artie Shaw, and Harry James coming from the inside. 

"It's a pretty pivotal theme here at the Museum. I grew up listening to jazz, swing, and big band and so did my Mom. Knowing the backstory of a place like this will make it very special when you happen by it." 

"Glenda, this place has me in awe. Don't wait up for me at the studio, I'm about to dive into the museum and check out their eats. Be sure to check out her grandfather's memoir, titled 'Bride of War' co-written by her husband, Takeru Ito. It's for sale in their gift shop so while you're here you might as well grab a copy. That's it for me folks! Jiving with Asami Miller-Ito at The Road to Redemption Museum, I'm Linda Stewart, NEWS11." 

*** 

Their love would forever be immortalized within the pages of the book and the scratch of the record player. A continuous spectrum that spanned throughout the years; on quiet nights in Autumn when the player inside the jazz club would mysteriously turn on and the shadows of a man and a woman dancing could be seen through the windows. Could have been rumor and fable. But then again, she supposed that was another story for another day. She'd let you, the reader, determine what was the truth.

End Notes:

 

A/N: I'm a wreck. A whole mess. Having to write Ichiro breaking down upon hearing Bea died just crushed me. Asami Miller is the baddest ever in life. I loved that she honored them both to that extent. Like, this woman bought the whole house and brought it over across and under the sea and decorated it to look almost identical to the way it had been when Ichiro grew up there. THAT IS DEDICATION OMG. And the same with Bea's childhood home. AMAZING. Asami deserves her flowers and throw in some diamonds while you at it because baybay. 

Now, I know Joseph and Elijah Matsuda not hating on Asami because their father bequeathed his land and money to her. RUBY RIKO SAID IT BEST BABY. SHE MADE IT PLAIN. SIT THE EFF DOWN. YOU WASN'T THERE. SHE WAS. DON'T GET ROCKED. It's disgusting that they treated their father like that...EVEN with his past. I can imagine that that helped speed up the cancer in his body, the heartbreak from being abandoned by his own children. 

The dream Sami had of Beatrice was powerful oh my GAWD. I am so incredibly sad to end this journey because I fell so hard for Ichiro and Bea. This story was an emotional experience unlike anything I think I've ever encountered before... and I know I say that with other works I've completed that have pushed me out my comfort zone but THIS ONE... it was different.. a different kind of emotional investment. I have never had to literally take as many mental breaks as I have with this body of work. Whew.  I hope that this was worth the wait hehe. So, I have a bonus chapter for you hehehehehe. I'll let y'all guess what it is referring to hehehe.  See you there?

DL

 

Epilogue by DarkandLovely

Epilogue 

 

 

Lifting his vodka to his mouth, a sweet sound drifted down into his ears and it made him turn. A woman stood in the center of the room, lights shining on her gorgeous tawny skin. Her voice caressed the notes of the piano, weaved a web around the trumpet and gave the horns a run for its money. Dressed in a startling dark blue slip and matching shoes, the only other decoration that adorned her was a black flapper cap, long dangly pieces of sparkling beads. It drew the eye to her slim throat, small round shoulders and dark red lips. Taking his eyes off of her, he ordered another vodka. 

The sound of clapping deafened him and he was glad to lose himself in it, reaching into his pocket to pull out his cigarette case. He was glad for a moment, just to relax and unwind from the uniform that sometimes suffocated him. Striking the match, he put the lit cigarette in between his awaiting lips and exhaled, the sudden smell of perfume disrupting the minty nicotine haze. Opening his eyes, he found the woman from the stage standing in front of him, skin glistening with sweat.

For a moment, the two of them said not a word, simply stared at one another. She watched him inhale smoke and blow it out, hiding his face behind a mirror of clouds. Enchanting almond shaped eyes watched as he reached for the vodka, ice now melted. Before he could lift it to his mouth, she reached out and grabbed it, lifting it instead to her own, throwing back the shot. Finally, she chose to speak, voice low and soft. 

"I've been waiting a long time for you, daddy." Her voice instantly set him on fire and those eyes of hers, they devoured him; from head to toe she threatened to consume him. He didn't answer, just let his eyes roam every inch of her tempting little body. She placed the glass not too gently back onto the surface of the bar top just as his gaze lifted onto her own once more. 

"You don' t have your uniform on, tonight." She said with a smile, a sweet lulling twang to her voice. 

"No. I don't." Tiny amber fingers plucked the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to sit instead in between hers.

"Guess we all have somethin' we wanna hide from." Inhaling deeply, she let the smoke exit through her nostrils. 

"What are you hiding from, soldier?" He completely turned towards her. 

"What makes you think I'm hiding, woman?" Taking fingers, he slowly teased the beaded tassels that hung down from her cap. 

"How do you know you're not right where I want you?" Brushing them back and across her shoulder, he let his fingertips taste the soft smoothness of her flesh. Taking the short stub now imprinted with her lipstick, she placed it back in his mouth. The horn player played a solo and it echoed the rhythm of their hearts, how fast and in tune they beat. 

"You're not thinkin' of leavin' are you?" 

"Would it bother you if I were?"

Emboldened by the fire that burned on its way down and her own desire, she slipped in between his legs, pressing her body against him. 

"I'm not ashamed to say it would." Her warmth, her lips, those eyes of hers, everything about her he wanted to get lost in, wanted to drown into her entire being. to completely consume him. 

"Stay with me a while. Drink some more." He watched as she lifted his hand that pressed against the bar top. Placing it against her face, she sighed in relief as he accepted the green light and pulled her flush, allowing her to bury herself against his warmth, nicotine and the sharp sour of the vodka. 

"You're the one who left here first. Now, you want me to stay." His touch glided down and across her back, pausing above her derriere. 

"You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Beatrice Jones." She released a breathy sigh as he finally gave in and squeezed one of her ass cheeks. Biting into her lip, she lifted up just enough to look down into his eyes. 

"I didn't plan on leavin' the way I did, baby. Sometimes, things jus' happen." His fingers slid down the back of her hamstrings, choosing to further their exploration up into her dress. 

"But I'm here now... you're here now. Finally." Her eyes closed suddenly and her lips parted, soft pleasure-filled sound and her leg lifted ever-so-slightly to rest on one of his thighs. She breathed heavy, fast, uneven, letting her head fall back against her shoulders. His lips burned as they kissed the column of her neck but icy hot wet relief licked up and across her throat. The pleasure of release and the thrill of being in public left her mute, breaths shuddery and short against his mouth. Breaths he drank in greedily, not satisfied until she could barely breathe from the force of his kiss. 

Slowly his hand came back up from underneath her dress and the people kept on dancing, drinking and laughing. Whether they cared or not didn't matter. It was all good fun, all a mirage they sought after to distract them from what was going on outside. Their eyes met and the electric energy between them needed no words. He hungered for her and she thirst for him. Every thing he'd ever desired she could see there in his eyes. Spilled vodka onto the bar top. Aggressive hands that pulled, yanked and ripped the fabric of her dress apart. The first bite, the first time, the first entry there, rough, hard, breathless. Tears, cap on the floor and hair gripped tight between his fingers. Breath, sweat, warm sticky wet between her legs. 

"It's okay to say you missed me, papa." She breathed, kissing those fingers that promised more heaven, hell and sin. His free hand lifted and with a single finger, glided up underneath the thin strap that had slipped down her shoulder, and guided it back upwards until it rested nice and proper again.

"I did miss you. More than you know, my girl." Smiling against his hand, she gently tugged on it. 

"Dance with me, papa." Powerless to resist her, he slowly stood with ease and two sound legs followed her into the crowd. There was no need for crutches here, no need for canes or wooden legs. As he wrapped arms around her and pulled her flush, together they swayed in time with the music, a slow sensual cadence. 

"How long do we have this time, Bea?" His voice asked her, that distinct rasp against her ear making her thread her hand up into his hair, keeping him just where he was. 

"We have all night, sugar. We can dance all night." He released a sigh of relief and hugged her even closer. 

"If you want... we can even dance forever." 

 

FIN 

 

 

End Notes:

A/N: SOBBING AND CRYING AND HUGGING MYSELF. I JUST NOOOOOOOO ;______; In my head, they're forever together in two places. One, in the Oriental Pearl club dancing, listening to jazz pressed real close. And two living happily on their property in Essex Junction, VT skinny dipping in the summer and cozied up real good by bonfires in late fall. They're up there RENT FREE lol. 

This writing project has definitely changed my life for the better and I'm so glad that I took the chance, despite my fear and being uncomfortable and wrote and finished it. Everything I wanted to accomplish with this work, I truly and humbly hope that I have hehe. Be sweet, love on one another and stay tuned because Yeonwang will be making its return! I am ready to finish that body of art as well. I am going to finish up my studying for my PCTB but I definitely aim to finish Yeonwang before this year is out. 

Love you all. Thank you for your support, love and for riding on this journey with me. 

DL

 

Now you know I'm not going to leave this body of art without showing you what Beatrice Grace Jones wore. FOREVA A WHOLE BADDIE. 

 

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