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.”