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“How intense?” He spins the yari in a wheel so fast, it blurs before my eyes.
I look him up and down. “I don’t want your wife on my doorstep tomorrow, complaining about your cuts and bruises.” I swing the spear, warming my muscles and familiarizing myself with the weapon.
“Remember, blades don’t have eyes or feelings,” Katsuo says, entering a ready position. “And if that man of yours comes knocking on my door, I’ll take my frustrations out on you tenfold.” He rushes me, and our spears clang as the metal meets.
My arms vibrate with the force of his blows. Despite the dangerous blades, we use the butt end of the spear to hit each other. I take his hits, relishing in the distraction the pain presents. I’ve never handled emotional turmoil well. But this? Channeling everything through physical torment? I’ll do this however often and for however long I need to not dwell on Lakeshia’s rejection and Shinji choosing her.
Not enough! I’m not sore or tired enough.
I discard my spear and wait for Katsuo to follow suit before I launch a barrage of kicks and punches. He counters, connecting his foot with my ribs. I shy away, nursing the sore area.
Katsuo shakes his head. “Is Lakeshia pregnant?”
For a second, his question shocks me into stillness. I relax my stance and shake my head.
“If not fear of impending fatherhood, why am I here?”
“You won’t understand.” I retrieve the spears and replace them on the wall.
“Make me.” When I don’t immediately respond, my cousin motions his head toward the door. “Drink with me.”
I follow him to the bar he keeps fully stocked. Although Katsuo no longer lives here, he maintains the home for our sparring bouts and his son’s lessons. I suspect he and Portia sometimes use the master bedroom, but this is his house and what they do is none of my business.
He pours two tumblers of whiskey. While I stare at my glass held within the circle of my hands, he sips from his.
“I think I’m falling in love with her. No, I know I am.”
Katsuo compresses his lips. “What about Shinji?”
Despite his neutral tone, I sense the judgment behind the question. For my cousin, his chance meeting with Portia was the first time he fell in love. As fiercely loyal as he is, he would never understand my current dilemma.
“He fell for her back in Jersey.”
“What do you expect me to do with this information? You married Shinji. You committed yourselves to each other.”
“I’m still committed.”
“Is your husband?”
“For the time being, yes.”
“If she’s the problem, I can?—”
“Don’t end that sentence if you want to walk out of here tonight.” I push my whiskey away and glare at him.
“Shinji—”
“Katsuo, if you touch a hair on my husband’s head, our grandfather will need a new heir.”
“Then explain in full.”
I forcefully push out a pent-up breath. “Shinji and I would share her. He’s damn near got me believing in the complete family he envisions with her as our center, but she doesn’t want me. Or maybe she doesn’t trust me. And I can’t completely blame her. After all, I threatened to kill her if she didn’t agree to carry our baby.”
Katsuo’s lips twitch, the slight movement almost imperceptible.
“What?”
“Your method is more expedient than mine.”
