Flame in the Mist (Flame in the Mist #1)(66)

“What should we do about . . . this?” she asked in a simple tone. Detached. Much like his typical demeanor. A tone that did not match the sentiments swirling within. One she hoped would prod him to reveal something—anything—of value.

ōkami looked back toward the night sky. “Ichi-go, ichi-e.”

Mariko took a deep breath. “For this time only.”

He nodded.

“I don’t believe that’s the intended meaning behind it,” she said flatly.

“It’s the meaning I give it. Each breath exists for that one moment only. We live for that one moment only.”

She paused. “Is that how you wish to live your life? From moment to moment, without a care for the past or for the future?”

“It’s how I live my life now.”

“Is that why you choose to follow, instead of to lead?” Here was a chance for her to learn about ōkami’s past. Perhaps even about the source of his powers.

“I have no interest in leading.”

“You are a warrior gifted with unique abilities. Does that not give you a certain responsibility?”

“I do not have the gift—or the willingness—to inspire. In battle, my only responsibility is to be the sword. The axe. The fist.”

Though Mariko tried to harness the sentiment, disappointment settled across her features.

ōkami glanced her way. “Don’t have expectations of me. Don’t look at me and think you should be seeing something else.”

“I’ve never looked at you and expected anything.”

“Liar. You see me. Just as I see you.”

“You see nothing,” Mariko grumbled.

“I see you,” he said softly. “Exactly as you are.”

The air between them filled with all that remained unsaid. All that should be said.

Yet wasn’t.

Worry spiked through Mariko’s core, its point all too sharp. “What if—”

“Don’t.” ōkami stood without making a sound. “Don’t ask me questions to which you don’t want the answers.”

Mariko watched as he tied his black kosode shut.

“I’ll keep your secret for now,” he said.

“Why would you do that?” She had to ask. Though she cursed herself for uttering the words.

“Because if I don’t, there are many who will not hesitate to kill you.”

It wasn’t a real answer, yet Mariko knew it was foolish to press beyond this.

ōkami continued. “But I won’t call you Chiyo, because that is not your name. And if you ever betray us, I will not stop Ranmaru from exacting his revenge.” He paused. “I am not a hero. Don’t forget it for a moment. I will not save you again.”

Mariko sat up abruptly, her features defiant. “I don’t want you to be a hero. And I don’t need anyone to save me.”

“Good.” ōkami walked away, his steps almost halting. Not nearly as graceful as Mariko had come to expect.

As she watched him fade into the darkness, Mariko found she did not know how to feel. She wasn’t sure if she’d kissed ōkami to keep him silent. Or if she’d kissed him because there was nothing else to be done. Nothing else to do but succumb. All those times she’d hated him. All those times her heart had jolted in his presence.

Did she truly despise him?

Or did she desire him?

Mariko lay beneath the stars for a time. Then came to a decision.

She did not truly care about ōkami. She was merely using him. Mariko was here on a mission. Here to discover why the Black Clan had tried to kill her. To discover who wanted her dead. And nothing—not even a boy who could kiss her senseless, could kiss her mind into silence—would ever change that.

For this time only.

ōkami was right.

Tomorrow she would forget this had ever happened.





A LESSON TO BE LEARNED





It had been a long time since ōkami had outright lied to his best friend.

He’d had no occasion to deceive the leader of the Black Clan. Not in many years.

ōkami owed him too much to lie to his face. Owed him far too much to ever hide behind the ease of a lie. It wasn’t that ōkami was averse to lying. He lied quite frequently. And with relish.

Often he lied about things that did not matter, merely for the sake of practicing the skill. After all, when one lived a lie, it became important to continue honing the art of deception whenever possible.

But this was a unique situation.

ōkami knew he should say something soon about—Takeo. Or Chiyo.

Or whatever the hell the girl chose to call herself on any given day.

Chiyo was not her real name. That much ōkami knew for certain. A gifted liar learned to recognize the skill in others. That night, she’d said “Chiyo” too carefully. With too much thought behind it. A name was something simple. Easy. It should roll off the tongue like unabashed laughter.

Not with such clear calculation behind it.

She’d lied to him. As he’d lied to her.

Never mind that she’d purported to save his life. Twice. Why the girl had done so, ōkami could not begin to understand. It was clear she’d disliked him at the onset. Found him lazy and trifling.

Just as he wished for others to find him.