Chapter 97

**Orian POV**

Finally, my body succumbs and I fall to my knees once more, done by the deed of a man I thought to be my brother.
Now he is less than nothing and more than an enemy.
Sherly scurries over to me and clutches onto my arm, trying to heave me up. “Help me take him to his room.”
“No,” I bark, making her balk on impulse. “Call the pilot and prepare the plane.”
“Where to?”
“Japan.”
***
I hobble down the wide corridors lined with polished wood, each plank carefully chosen for its rich grain. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries and calligraphy scrolls. An ignorant eye that would only see traditional artistry, I only see long-suffering as I mute the memories that scream at me. Without me even having to announce myself, soft paper shoji screens slide open with a whisper.
I step inside and the floor is covered with tatami mats. At the center of the room, Daku sits cross-legged on the floor, deep in meditation. His posture is impeccable, his back straight and his hands resting lightly on his knees, palms up, as he breathes with controlled precision. He’s dressed in a black kimono, the fabric flowing around him like ink. I go before him before my knees thud to the ground and I bend over to bow before him. When I lift my torso, he’s already observing me with quiet solemnity.
“Santos took from me not just a mother figure when he killed obaasan,” I begin. “Not just a woman I respected, but one I revered. Now there is only you. My own brother has desecrated our bond in a way I couldn’t conceive. The blood debt is high, all-consuming. I am not here for your aid or advice. If obaasan was here, I would beg her forgiveness and offer her my apologies for what I will do next. No one will be spared. For I will make oceans run red with blood.”
This time, Daku bends, bowing deeply to me in equal esteem.
“Let all who have wronged you tremble beneath the weight of your vengeance.”
Daku offers me one of his imperial rooms. All that he demands is that I spend my recovery time here with them to restore myself. I couldn’t look at a puppy-eyed Yua and refuse. That night I lay lax on the extravagant bed with her standing beside me, staring sorrowfully at my burnt self.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I say, to ease her torment. “It doesn’t hurt as much as the pain in here,” I say, prodding a finger over my heart.
Yua pouts even more and she reaches for a small tin of salve, the familiar scent of herbs and oils wafting up as she opens it. She scoops out a small amount, warming it slightly between her palms before spreading it gently across the one side of my face. The skin there is rough, uneven, feeling the subtle tremor in my body as it touches the area. The salve is thick, soothing, meant to keep my skin supple and ease the lingering discomfort that the scarring sometimes brought. Her fingers move with practiced care, her touch light as she works it in, careful not to press too hard on the tender area.
“Can you get her back?” she asks quietly.
“She doesn’t want to come back,” I admit to both her and myself. “She thinks I’m more dangerous, worse than a monster, oblivious to the one I created. Like everything else, he didn’t keep her because to just use her or because he loves her but because he abhors me. He’s using her to hurt me and it’s working.”
She nods grimly. “As it was before and as it will always be. This family will never fail you.”
Her hands linger on my face, the delicacy of her porcelain palm as she cradles my cheek before she draws back‌. With an angelic face, she smiles with a malevolent glint in her sweet, round eyes. “Father says there is nothing worse than a traitor. Let Torin know the full measure of your wrath, Ichiro.”
***
I lift from the bed, being bed bound harms me more than the blade Torin used to skewer into me. And yet that physical pain is but a distant murmur compared to the roaring agony of my anguish. I straighten and fix myself upright with my head hung; the pain pulsing as if it has a new life of its own. The door opens and I close my eyes in fleeting frustration.
“Yua, I don’t think I can stomach any more of your herbal teas.”
“Good thing I have none.”
My eyes flick up to see Akari, still the epitome of superficial elegance and superiority. She struts over to me in a flowy, floral dress with her hair like the essence of the night streaming behind her. She stares down at me with a suggestive smile. I edge back to refuse, but she moves herself in between my legs and my brows collide as I look up at her questioningly.
“I’d prefer the tea,” I say flatly.
She laughs it off and remains where she stands. “And here I thought you would be happy to see me. You rarely visit.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So I’ve been told,” she says, her eyes darting to my bandaged stomach. “Yua told me everything, and I’m hardly surprised. Torin always struck me as a man of low principle who valued his own agenda above all else.”
“Really?”
“No, but you can tell that he has a high opinion of himself. Someone that self-obsessed should never be trusted.” Her face sours, superficial charm wilting to expose her true self. “And Hadassah, she—”
Her breathing catches. I don’t even know when I stood up or even when it happened. All I know is that I’m staring blankly at her with my hand locked around her throat warningly. She can still breathe, bristling in my grip as smiles carelessly, assuming that I wouldn’t dare hurt her.
“All I was going to say was that she doesn’t deserve you.”
I clamp down with crushing force, and she squeaks before trying to pry off my wrist.
“She deserves more than me.”
I release her so roughly that she fumbles and crashes on the ground with a slide as her dress spills around her. Akari gasps and glares up at me, half aghast and half affront, but she holds her nerve. Despite glaring back at me fiercely, tears well in her eyes.
“Why? If you feel that way, then why pursue her?”
“She deserves more than I could ever be, and better than he could ever offer.”