The Cherry Blossoms Have Risen Shina

By Angelika Friedemann

Shina's marriage to the half-Japanese Akira has finally broken down after three years and she draws a line under it. She builds a new life for herself with her daughter, far away from all the bad experiences of their life together. But she is not granted the peace she longs for. Akira's and her paths keep crossing. Then her six-month-old son is kidnapped.
When she comes face to face with the man who is to murder her and her offspring, she learns who wants her dead, and at that moment not only does the last piece of a perfect world collapse for her, but she literally hopes for the end.
Deadly intrigues, coupled with old traditions of the Far East, ice-cold contempt for death, shocking human studies of unrestrained indomitability and merciless dictatorship meet.
Centuries-old customs still have an influence on some people today. Far Eastern mentalities compete with European thinking and ways of life. 3.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angelika Friedemann
• Release date: Dec 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215510964

Angelika Friedemann

Die Autorin: Wenn die Menschen nur über das sprächen, was sie begreifen, dann würde es sehr still auf der Welt sein. Albert Einstein Ich versuche, die Aufmerksamkeit der Leser zu fesseln, sie zu unterhalten und zu erfreuen, möglicherweise zu erregen oder tief zu bewegen.

Book preview

Die Kirschblüten sind ausgegangen

Angelika Friedemann

The cherry blossoms have risen

Shina

Published by Kevin Friedemann at Smashwords.

Copyright 2023

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author, Angelika Friedemann.

Picture-Source: piqs.de.

Summer grass is all that remains of the warrior's dream.

Silence! Cicada noise penetrates, into the rocks.

The cicadas sing, invisible cicadas of near death.

In the crow trap, the summer moon dreams a fleeting dream.

Silence! The sound of cicadas penetrates through, into the rocks and tells of Shori-Ninja.

Chapter 希望

Akira Hideyoshi D'Leciere left his car and let his gaze glide over the house, which was barely visible in the darkness of the night. He couldn't explain it, but he sometimes felt as if it had an ominous effect on him and right now, this sensation was very strong. The sky was also gloomy, cloudy, not revealing the beautiful garden he had created with so much love. Even from the flowering bushes that lined the short path to the right and left, there was none of the sweet fragrance. It left more of an impression of lifelessness - disquiet - threatening danger. Nonsense.

Shina seemed to be asleep and he sighed softly. He felt the gentle fan of the wind, the light salty smell of the nearby sea. Taking a deep breath, he stayed outside for some time. The air was cool, but that was exactly what he enjoyed. It drove away his anger and his guilty conscience.

Today was his third wedding anniversary and he had been on the road all day, although he had promised his wife a day together. She had brought Mariko, the two-year-old daughter, to her friend Giselle's, and now? He had even forgotten to get a gift, a bouquet of flowers, even though she had given him a very fine blue kimono in the morning. He, on the other hand, had not thanked her for it, as she had already left with Mariko. With her presents, he always had the feeling that she wanted to buy him.

He stroked his black hair and took another deep breath before entering the house. Soft crying sounded from her room. He switched on a light in the hallway and immediately every sound died away. She opened the door and he noticed the reddened eyes before she lowered her eyelids and bowed.

Are you hungry? Her voice sounded low, dragging, suppressing sobs.

Gomen, that it has become so late.

I presume your honourable mother is better? she inquired politely.

Et, she is better. Despite her illness and the pain, she cooked for me. As always, delicious. A real delicacy. She is so loving and attentive.

I'm glad.

He took a few steps towards her, wanted to take her in his arms, but she hastily moved away. I still have to tidy up. You must be tired. Good night. She hurried out of the hall and closed the door to the kitchen.

Akira followed her. He was sorry that everything had gone so haywire. He had been looking forward to a nice day with his wife, as they had spent little time together in recent months. His mother was ailing and he had been with her almost every day, after his work at the Asian Institute, and so had come home late, like today. He had even ceded his training hours to his co-workers Tatsuda and Henry due to lack of time. He even let his exercises at home slide. He suppressed the fact that this was not the only reason.

He opened the door, just caught sight of her clearing the lovingly laid table. He looked into the kitchen, noticed the pots, the prepared dishes and only at that moment did it dawn on him how much time and effort Shina had spent preparing the Japanese meal. He came home, had already eaten and was praising his mother's food. He should have thought of that, that she would cook something special.

Shina, I am sorry that things went wrong today. I would have preferred to be with you, to have eaten with you. Gomen.

Is trivial.

Lie, so dewa ari masen. I mean, I care equally as you do. Aishiteru.

He held her tightly, put his finger under her chin, pushed that up so she had to look at him. Her gaze was blank, looking through him as if he were invisible. He bent over her lips, which felt cold and brittle. She let it happen but did not return the kiss.

We're going away for the weekend. Just the two of us. Mariko can stay with Henry and Nathalie.

She detached herself from him. Don't promise me anything, because I don't believe it after all. I have work to do.

He watched her for a while, turned away as she paid no attention to him, took a shower, lay down in bed, clasped his hands under his head and waited for her. After a while he got up, sighing softly, and found her in her small room, staring into the night. A gap in the cloudy ceiling allowed the lacklustre moonlight to shine into the tiny room and reveal her silhouette.

Shina, what's wrong? I'm really sorry, but that's not the end of the world. Come to bed.

She said nothing in reply, appeared in the bedroom a little later in a nightgown and lay down next to him.

Why are you wearing such an ugly nightgown? You let yourself go more and more. What has become of the once beautiful woman? You walk around worse than my great-grandmother, he grumbled, pulling her against his body, feeling her tremble and immediately regretting his harsh words.

Gomen. I have enjoyed every day with you and wish for many more years with you. Sugoku ureshii.

He stroked her body, noticing how she stiffened. Somewhat astonished, he bent his head up, caught sight of the tears that were making their way through the lashes and glistening in the weak moonlight.

Shina, what's wrong? He touched her cheek with his fingertips.

Nothing, everything is fine. Nothing has changed over the years.

What do you mean? Shina, what's been going on with you for months? You've been avoiding me, getting quieter, more depressed. You lie next to me like a board, and when I touch you, you move away. This is no longer a marriage, and you seem like a stranger to me. I imagined a wife differently.

Please forgive me Hideyoshi-san for being such a dishonourable, inferior woman and for making you feel so bad. As your dear mother says, you should have married a good Japanese woman. You would be happy today and wouldn't have to be angry with me. Let's finally get a divorce.

She jumped out of bed, rushed out of the room and he heard her throwing up in the bathroom. He was surprised by these words, pondering what was going wrong in his marriage. Sure, he was rarely home, often left her alone. But other men also had to work and were not at home all the time. So that couldn't be it. But what else? His sick mother? Only his duty and his honour as a son required him to be there for her, to help her. A Japanese woman would know all that. But Shina wasn't, she was just a Frenchwoman who didn't seem to have any understanding for it. He had to talk to her and sort this out. They were probably too different, weren't they? Sometimes there were worlds between them. It was not easy for him to understand her, the European. Even his mother had repeatedly found that Shina could not and would not fit in with him, with his Japanese customs and traditions. His dear mother, of all people, had tried so hard to turn Shina into a Japanese woman. Only Shina didn't understand. Probably shouldn't have married her so soon? They had hardly known each other.

As she did not come, he got up, hearing at the same moment that she was apparently taking a shower. He sighed, lay down and fell asleep a short time later.

Chapter 信頼

A week had passed since that day. Akira was packing his things into his travel bag when the phone rang. For a moment he was tempted to ignore it, but it answered.

Akira, can you come here? I fell down earlier and fainted. I feel so bad. Everything is spinning in my head, he heard his mother's voice and groaned inwardly. Not today, he thought. He looked up, saw Shina standing in the doorway looking at him. Dismayed, he noticed how sadly she looked at him, even though she had smiled at him minutes ago, now she turned away and left the room.

Non, Shina. We're going to drive. Mother, listen, I'll just drop by. If you're that bad, you'll have to go to hospital for the weekend. See you soon. He hung up, entered his wife's small room. I'll be back in an hour and we'll go. I'm looking forward to our weekend.

She gave no answer, just looked at him. A look so full of pain that it tightened his stomach. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling her body vibrate.

We'll go, I promise, he emphasised and hurried out to quickly get the visit over with. He had to drive right across Marseille, cursing when he had to stop at a red light. On the way, he stopped to buy flowers, confectionery and cakes for his mother, knowing how much it would please her.

Shina, on the other hand, unpacked the things, put them away. She knew what the call meant, that there would be no weekend, as always, if they had anything planned. This was how she had experienced it for a long time and she had got used to it. The reasonably happy first year of their marriage was long gone. Tears came to her eyes. I must put an end to this, she told herself again. The highest form of love is to keep your burning love to yourself and not open your heart to the person you love, Akira had told her years ago, and she stuck to that. He expected and desired that, just as he demanded everything that had to do with Japan, with Bushidô, from her and even from Mariko. She was an annoying appendage for him and his mother, a troublesome gaijin.

He found his mother lying on the couch, a cool cloth on her head. She moaned slightly when she heard her son.

What happened?

I was doing the housework and then I felt dizzy, black in the face.

You should see a doctor. It's always something with you. Get a thorough check-up.

Sorry if your old mother bothers you. I'll probably die soon.

Nyoko Hideyoshi looked lovingly at her son with her narrow black eyes. She was an unusually small woman with a delicate bone structure. Her face had an evenness that was rare, except when she contorted it as she did now, expertly, tormented by pain. Her tininess made her charismatic nature stand out even more. Her black hair shone as if lacquered, was gathered into a knot at the back of her head and held in place by tiny golden pins. She had very fair skin that never saw the sun. Wrinkles around the narrow black eyes and mouth gave evidence of her age. The lips, well drawn if not very full, gleamed a bright red. Delicate, slender hands, adorned with numerous gold rings of great value and long fingernails painted red. Two wide gold bangles dangled from one arm, the other wrist was adorned with a gold watch set with diamonds.

Stop talking such nonsense. You'll be a hundred. Akira tried not to sound too angry. She couldn't help it if she was constantly dizzy and sick.

It's bad when you're old and no one has time.

I always have time, you know that. Maybe father should come for a few days.

Oh, he never takes care of me, only cheats on me and doesn't call me father to that gaijin, it gushed out of her mouth full of contempt and he raised his eyebrows. You are unfair. Get some rest and you'll feel better later. Do you need anything else? I'll drive otherwise and call tonight.

Maybe you still have time to make me some tea?

Akira entered the kitchen and was making tea when he heard her complaining loudly. He quickly rushed into the living room and saw her sitting upright. I told you to stay down.

I can see that you want to leave. So go, otherwise that insignificant onna will scold you and you'll have a bad weekend. She never allows you to be with me, that's why she's always taking you away and spending your money, which you have to work so hard to earn, my poor son, she whined. That mamono is inconsiderate and lazy. She is no good. Separate yourself from that good-for-nothing bakemono.

That's nonsense. I wanted to go on a trip with her. For that matter, Shina would never say anything against me being with you. She's not a demon, please don't call her that.

I know her better. You are too blinded and don't notice how she manipulates you. She whines a bit and you do everything to make her stop. You are far too good-natured, my son. You should give that mamono a good beating more often.

Nyoko grabbed a fan and waved it eagerly at herself with a graceful, skilful swing.

Mother, don't. You are telling yourself something that is definitely not true. The days of beating people up, as you call it, are long gone. Thank Buddha. I'll get your tea.

Go ahead. I can manage on my own. Oh, if only I had never come to this country. At home, the children know what's right. No daughter-in-law would be like that. With us samurai, that time is never over. Have you forgotten what you learned in Nihon-koku?

He frowned, saying nothing in reply. His thoughts wandered to Shina for a moment. He was looking forward to a nice weekend with her. A smile crossed his face, which Nyoko immediately interpreted correctly when he put the tray down. Jealousy seized her.

Maybe when Father is back, you should go to Japan for a while. He's taking care of everything for so long.

Don't call Japan our revered homeland, she rebuked him. He doesn't understand me anyway. He's just a gaijin, like that onna you married, who only used you to help her criminal father, that vile murderess, that evil yûrei.

Angrily, he grumbled rudely at her. Don't. Enough, Shina is not a murderer.

Sorry, my beloved son. It's just the pain. She fell back on the couch, moaning from the front, her face consumed. He put the blanket around her, sat down. He couldn't leave her like this, as she whimpered in pain.

So the morning passed, the afternoon. Towards evening, he tried to reach his wife again and again, but she did not answer.

Who knows where that mamono hangs out while you're taking care of your poor sick mother?, Nyoko clamoured.

You know that's not true. We were going away for three days. She's probably sitting in the garden.

This lazy onna just sits around and doesn't work. She keeps giving the child away, she doesn't care about you. You should never have married her. A Japanese woman wouldn't be like that. She would spoil you and honour you, like she does me.

Let's drop the subject. She's the woman I wanted and everything else you're making up isn't true.

You are deluded. This onna is deceiving you. Who knows whose child this is? She lost the other one quickly, so that no one would look at her ...

That's really enough. Leave Shina alone with these infamous vulgarities, he blurted out angrily, jumping up.

Nyoko Hideyoshi wailed loudly, holding his hand to his head, his face consumed with pain, whereupon he was immediately annoyed that he had grumbled at his esteemed mother like that.

Gomen, Mother. He bowed slightly. Would you like anything else, or I will go home.

Even my beloved son is shouting at me. Oh, if only my karma would end. Again a moan sounded from her mouth. I am so miserable, after all. All because of that wicked iteki. Maybe you could make us some more fresh tea? I'll cook your favourite dish later.

Mother, I want to go home and not eat.

I've been shopping and otherwise it's going to be bad. It costs so much after all. Your unworthy father gives me so little money.

I don't want you to cook for me and father gives you ... he quickly interrupted himself, seeing tears rolling. Well, all right, he relented, partly to erase his slip. His behaviour towards her was inexcusable.

You know, my son, we should travel back to the land of our ancestors. Who knows what else these bakemono are hatching to bring us further disaster. But the kami will continue to stand on our side, protect us from this and protect us.

That's not right, he tried to stop her tirade.

Have you forgotten what you were taught? You should remember Bushidô: Self-discipline, duty, honour to the state, your homeland and your family, your Japanese family. These iteki don't count. They will never become real civilised people. They are disobedient, they know no honour, they are a disgrace, they disrupt our chowa and they know no kigai. Every rônin would have known in the past how to act when the heiwa in their own house is disturbed: kigai. Only this iteki does not know. Wazawai ha ketai ni shôzu.

She took the small, very precious porcelain bowl in her hand, sipped loudly and admired the décor, very traditional Japanese.

Mother, what is this? Shina does not disturb my peace. No harm comes from her.

You are blinded, my beloved son. She has bewitched you. She is a kami from the dark regions, an evil yûrei, an oni. You have been away from the land of Nippon too long to be able to judge. Let us fly home and you will know, feel, what I mean. What does Seneca say? Evil does not live in the world of things, it lives in man alone. What you think is the summit is only a step. Believe me, it is only an evil oni.

Oni are usually depicted as ugly, huge creatures with sharp claws, wild hair and two horns on their heads, human-like. In the course of time, their association with evil was transferred to themselves and they became messengers and causers of mischief. They were portrayed as absurd, sadistic brutes whose only purpose in life was destruction. Foreigners and strangers were contemptuously referred to as oni.

Shina is my wife and definitely not evil. She is kind-hearted, sweet and not lazy. Again his tone sounded a little sharper, to which Nyoko immediately moaned softly, her features contorting painfully. Tears ran down her cheeks and she sniffled, moaning as she did so.

He stayed with her overnight because his mother was very tired of cooking and she was getting worse again.

It was not until the afternoon of Saturday that he drove home and found Shina sitting on the ground in the garden. He immediately noticed that she was wearing the same clothes, trousers and jumper, as the day before. He pulled her up as she did not respond to his coming. She was freezing, despite the warmth brought by the still balmy December air. He lifted her in his arms, carried her into the house. He felt as if he were carrying a lifeless doll. Shina, what happened?

She looked at him as if she did not know him. He made tea and with a cup in his hand he stepped into the living room but found it empty, so he searched all the rooms, called her name and found her again outside in the garden. Come inside.

It is so peaceful, you would think this cruel world does not exist. There is no hatred, pain, lies, sadness, humiliation, degradation, only peace. Why did my father have to die then and not me? It would be peaceful and quiet for me today. Softly, draggingly, her words sounded. Confucius wrote: 'There are nine things to which the superior man pays careful attention: In seeing he pays attention to clarity, in hearing to distinctness, in his countenance to kindness, in behaviour to courtesy, in speech to honesty, in action to conscientiousness. If he has doubts, he asks others. If he is angry, he considers the consequences. When faced with a personal advantage, he asks whether he is entitled to it. That's what my father taught me many years ago.

He looked down at her in horror, heard the phone inside, ignored it.

Your mother is calling for you. I'm still sitting down.

Damare! You come inside, pack some things and we'll leave. She will be without me for a few days. It is also called honourable mother. You know that's what she values. A Japanese daughter-in-law would know that, but you don't want to learn it or you're being deliberately stubborn.

Non, you belong to her, not to me. That was never the case. They were just mindless, foolish illusions, self-delusions, vapours that quickly evaporated. She told me then and I should never have married you.

What did she tell you?

He will marry a charming Japanese woman who will give him peace. Akira will never be able to integrate into Western culture, any more than I can. It is part of his heritage and he would be incomplete without Bushidô, without Japan, without his homeland with all its beauty. There he has everything he needs and there he will find the right woman. My son has had many women in the meantime, but that never served his inner self, only the physical. Women are like bitches in heat, constantly mating with everyone. He despises European women, just as I do. My beloved son has not allowed any of these women to touch his heart. That should and will only be a lotus flower of Japan and never a barbarian, an iteki. Never one of the women who jump into every bed, but only a pure woman, such as one finds in my revered homeland. He does not belong here, not to one of those ugly Europeans, but to Nihon-koku and to me, for I love him very much. My beloved son would never be happy. His heart belongs to Nippon and there lies his karma and mine. We will both return soon, and then my beloved son will belong only to me. I will never tolerate my son binding himself to a disgusting iteki as I did at the time. My son will never belong to you and for that I will do everything. Everything. Akira belongs to me and Nihon-koku. Leave my son's house and stay away from him in the future. There are plenty of men you can have intercourse with. Men who will pay you for it, just as my beloved son does. I hope you understand me and that I never have to see you again. You would regret it if you did. My beloved son belongs only to me.

She didn't mean that. What are you telling yourself? She is a loving, concerned mother who only wants the best for me. Shina, we belong together, with our daughter. Please come I want to be alone with you for a few days. You've been looking forward to it. He pulled her up and held her tightly, feeling the quivering body. Let's go. He took her hand, pulling her inside. Pack your things. I want to leave right now.

You have to go to your honourable mother, otherwise she'll be depressed and I'll get..., she quickly broke off, turned around, ran hastily into the small room, the former guest room, which she was allowed to occupy.

He looked at her, briefly thought about what she had wanted to say, but pushed it aside. He quickly packed his travel bag in the bedroom, finished with it, entered her room and saw her sitting on the couch.

We can drive. Come on, pack some things. His tone already irritated.

Shina stood up, took underwear from one of the boxes stacked in a corner, jumpers from another and jeans from the small cupboard, some cosmetics from the desk.

A little later they drove away. As a precaution, Akira had switched off his mobile phone because he did not want to be disturbed now. Shina, his marriage, but especially the harmony in his house were more important. She sat quietly beside him while he thought about the words she had spoken earlier in the garden. He was still confused, could not understand what had prompted her, did not understand her train of thought. Sometimes it was difficult with her, the gaijin.

It's the first time in over two years that I'm travelling with her, he noticed, and something like a guilty conscience spread through him.

Shina glanced at him furtively from the side. He looked stunning, she thought today too. Even features, as if chiselled from bronze. Slightly slanted eyes, high cheekbones, thick black hair that fell to his shoulders, broad shoulders, narrow hips, a well-trained body. No wonder all women fall for him, precisely like I did at the time and now ...? What did I get in return?

They stopped near Marcoux in the Provençal Alps, looked for a hotel room. After dinner, they walked a little through the town. The cool air smelled of coniferous forest, of freshness, quite different from the salty sea air in Marseille. He noticed how Shina slowly relaxed.

They stayed there for four days, enjoying the time. Akira was pleased to see how she was transforming, at least to a small extent, into the woman he had once met. She was almost bubbling over with her old zest, cheerfulness and ideas. They talked, laughed with and at each other, and she was the passionate, sensual lover he had missed in recent months.

Only where she got the countless haematomas, small scars, which he noticed in shock and horror, she did not say. Despite his repeated questions, she evaded, only looked at him as if to say: You know.

Chapter 信頼

Two days later, he came home early in the morning and was surprised to see his mother there. He heard her talking to Mariko, who said something in Japanese that his daughter did not understand, of course, and then she switched to French.

Your ugly mother is incapable of raising you properly, but she's too lazy to do anything. Just a stupid, evil iteki.

Grand-mère, what is an iteki?

Mariko, a very, very bad, miserable, disgusting, hideous, very evil, ugly, lying, stupid yûrei. You know...

Mother, that's enough, he cut her off in a sharp tone.

Mariko ran to her father, who lifted her up. Papá, why is maman so bad? sobbed the little girl. Tears ran down her cheeks.

That's not her. That's where the grand-mère got it wrong. She doesn't speak French very well, you know.

Akira, tell the child ...

He looked at his mother and she was silent. Mariko, where is maman?

Before the little girl could answer, he heard his mother nagging: She's trying to make tea, but she's probably out of tea bags or doesn't know when the water is boiling. That ugly, lazy ...

That's enough. Mariko, go play for a bit. I'll just give grand-mère a quick ride home. He put Mariko down, looked at his mother, who stood up majestically.

It is better that I go. The hospitality in your house, my son, leaves a lot to be desired. Such a thing would be unthinkable at home. A Japanese woman would know how to behave, how to honour the kaihatsu. This onna is an ugly, vicious akuma, a mamono, from the dark regions. We should eliminate her so that our wa may return.

Without an answer, he ran to his car and waited for her there. Silently, he drove away. Only when they arrived in front of the house did Nyoko turn to him. You should come inside so you can get something to eat. That mamono doesn't know how to cook, but I told her earlier that you could eat at my place. No wonder you have to go away with her for that, so you can get something proper. It would be best if the child came to me. I have told this unworthy, disgusting person that she is nothing but lazy and stupid, neglects you and the little one, lives at your expense, does not go to work. You have to pay for everything, my poor son. This onna wants to go on holiday, go out to eat, demands a life of luxury, presents, jewellery. Do you know what this despicable person has allowed herself to do? She got up and said she was going to make tea. She brazenly left me alone. I was about to speak to your daughter when you came. Akira, you must do something. This child doesn't know Japanese, she knows nothing of Nihon Teikoku, her revered fatherland, of her real family, Nyoko clamoured.

Mother, please get out of the car. I want to go home. That's enough and leave us alone in future. Mariko is French, not Japanese.

She is a descendant of an honourable samurai family and must be brought up that way, she insisted. Are you forgetting your roots? You should beat her properly, that lazy onna.

She opened the door in a huff, gave her son a nasty look and got out. Seconds later, a loud, sharp scream. She stood wailing on one leg. Akira jumped out of the car, ran to her.

My foot. I sprained my foot, she complained.

He supported her, led her to the sofa. Shall I call a doctor?

Non, a cool rag. Only because of that evil, vile onna. She is to blame for everything and brings us only misfortune. Do you see that you must beat this yûrei? It would be better to commit kigai against her, but first she must sign the company and everything else over to you. If she refuses, beat, kick, strangle her until she is half dead.

Shaking his head, he fetched a towel in the bathroom and so did not see the satisfied expression of his mother, who properly adjusted herself on the couch when she heard him, immediately made the smile disappear and produced a saddened face. Gently, he put the towel around her joint. Then he made tea, cooled the ankle again. Finally, he stayed for dinner, which she cooked for him, despite the aching foot.

Night had fallen when he came home. His house was in darkness and again he was overcome by this unpleasant feeling. It seemed to him as if an evil aura was hovering around it. He entered quietly, slipped into the kitchen to drink another glass of water. There he saw the pots, the finished food that Shina had cooked. Guilt crept up inside him. Hadn't he promised her only a few days ago that her life would be different?

After he had showered, he quietly entered the bedroom, lay down in his bed, felt beside him and found the bed empty. He switched on the lamp, put on his dressing gown, looked for Shina. After searching the house, he entered the garden and just heard the gate close electrically in front. He thought for a few seconds, ran, as he was, to his car and drove after her. Instinctively he knew where she was going, to the beach, her favourite place. There he saw her sitting on the big stone.

What are you still doing outside? It's almost midnight.

She flinched in shock when she heard his angry voice.

As usual, nothing, she answered quietly.

Come back with me. I'm tired and don't feel like spending the night outside. Just because I came a little late doesn't mean you have to react completely inappropriately, he added irritably.

Go back and get some sleep. I'm going to sit here for a while.

He pulled her up and saw what she was holding in her hand. He turned pale. What do you want with that gun? Shina, what are you doing? Anger and panic resonated in his voice. Only at that moment did he notice what her face looked like. He violently yanked the gun out of her hand, put it in the pocket of his dressing gown, picked it up, carried it to his car, sped back, leaving her car behind.

Gruffly he asked, Have you gone completely mad? Briefly he glanced at her, but received no reply. You can't go on like this. You might want to think about seeing a psychiatrist. You're getting weirder, quieter and now this. What's going on inside you? I have to work. I can't spend all day holding your hand. The money has to come from somewhere. You demand a nice life, eating out, jewellery, travel, clothes and whatnot. He had hardly said it before he knew he had said crap. She rarely bought anything, never went out to eat. He generally visited restaurants without her and he hadn't given her anything as a gift or brought her anything for years. But that wasn't the issue, he dismissed the thought immediately.

As soon as she arrived, he grabbed her hand, dragged her into the house, into the bedroom, pushed her roughly onto the bed, turned her face towards the light and noticed with irritation the four long scratches on her cheek, how swollen the side was. In addition, her eyes were very red, showing that she had been crying. Her gaze was empty, she seemed to have lost all life energy. He knew that look. She had looked at him like that the night they were together for the first time. Back then she had pointed a gun at him because he had insulted and humiliated her. She had had this emptiness in her eyes for months. Today, too, his heart made itself painfully known. She was chalk white, her eyes looked wide, lacklustre, she looked so distraught, hurt, helpless and so full of fear, almost panic. He saw the tears running down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse. Totally dismayed, he inquired, How did this happen?

It is peripheral, precise, as I am, nota bene, you know it. I am a burden to you, your honourable mother. Sorry, Hideyoshi-san, that I live, spend so much of your money. Humanity is the duty of every individual, only I have the misfortune that my fellow men forget it. Confucius' words don't help. She rose, slipped past him into the bathroom with a limp, stopped in the open doorway. Why don't you hit me properly? You're trained as a shinobi and it would be over. You said when the enemy is strong as a rock, you must become water to defeat him. Your honourable mother and you have defeated me extensively. Why don't you finally kill me? My path has been over for years.

Before he could say anything else, the door was closed and he heard her turn the key. Still shocked, he looked at the door. What had happened? He could not explain it.

She sat in her small room, had rolled her desk chair up against the window and was looking out. I was trained in ninjutsu and learned the secret teachings of the ninja based on the Mikkyô. I have had lessons in many martial arts since I was five years old and one day I took the step forward. It sounds a bit simple, because there is more to it than just fighting. I told you the rules of the ninja, that was part of it and a lot more, he had told her. Yes, he was a deadly fighting machine. He had proved that. Her father had died then, he had saved her. For what? He could put an end to everything with a wave of his hand, but he didn't. He only continued to torture her from day to day. For what? Shina be honest, you know the answer, she said quietly to herself.

Chapter 信頼

Dusk had just fallen and was still in the sleepy light of night. She closed the door quietly, put on her shoes and scurried into the garden. The dampness of the December night was on everything. A cold wind blew in her face, but she didn't feel it, it was only the silence that came to her and that she sought. More slowly, she strolled along one of the small, narrow paths. A small stream flowed lazily to a water wheel, which tipped the water upwards again so that it could flow down again. An eternal cycle. Dragging her feet, she walked along the gravel path, deeply breathing in the fresh air, suppressing the pain that tormented her with every movement. As she stepped around a small bend, she saw him standing in the grey, diffuse backlight. He seemed, at that moment, like a sculpture carved out of stone. He stood motionless, hands clasped in front of his chest, legs spread. He was naked except for his trousers, even his shoes were missing. That was how she had seen him then, she immediately remembered, but that was in another life. A strange feeling coursed through her body today too, forcing her to watch. He moved his hands, arms as if in slow motion. Suddenly he broke off abruptly and turned to her, opening his eyes.

Come here,

Hesitantly she stepped closer.

Stand in front of me. Take off your shoes, spread your legs slightly so that you can stand well.

She did as he said and stood in front of him.

Stretch out your arms, comfortably.

She carried it out, feeling his body against her back as he placed a hand on her ribs below