Page 61 of The Tainted and the Tamed
His grip on her arm softened. “Yes.”
“You should be vowing to do that whether I stay or go, not offering it as bait. Truly, I don’t know who you are. I was a fool to get so close to you.”
This time, he let her pull away.
“You do know me, Saki,” he said quietly. The hitch in her step said she heard him. “As I know you. You belong here with me. I’m far from perfect. Even you have your flaws. But we can be a little less imperfect together. You can help me make this country a little less imperfect. Please. Stay.”
With that, he felt the last of his dignity leave him. There was no reason to hold onto it if she was not with him. There was no reason to hold onto anything.
“You’re the only light in my sky,” he said. “The only one I’ve seen in centuries.”
She walked through the doorway, leaving a broken man behind.
He was well and truly drunk by the time Tanabe arrived. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Of course. He’d just missed his first meeting of the day.
“Chairman,” she said curtly, “you are far too old to be coping with life this way.”
“With alcohol?” He swirled the clear rice wine in his cup thoughtfully. “What better way would you suggest?”
“How about not acting like a petulant child, sulking in your room and avoiding your responsibilities?”
He eyed her disapprovingly. “I’m supposed to be minding you, not the other way around.”
“It never did work that way, did it?”
She surprised him by sitting down across from him. When he had finished gaping at her, he reached for another cup.
Since Tanabe did not object, Haruki poured for her and nudged the cup her way. She picked it up daintily, sniffed it, and then tossed the contents back. As the burn of the alcohol hit her, she shook out her head.
“When I first came here, I was shocked at what a mess you were,” she said, smacking her lips. “I couldn’t believe someone who pulled so many strings in concert just to save me could be living like this.”
“Like what?”
“Wallowing in self-pity. When you didn’t return to the capital that spring, I was almost unsurprised. I thought, ‘That makes more sense. That’s the man I’ve come to know. Not the courageous one who took on the majority of the Diet over a disgraced chairman’s daughter.’”
Haruki clucked his tongue. “That wasn’t bravery. That was practicality. The faction that supported your father was already unhappy. Ending your life would’ve resulted in more infighting—maybe even another period of warring states.”
Tanabe leaned back on her heels. “Sothat’sthe reason? Now I finally know, after all this time. You did it out of self-preservation.”
“I did what had to be done.” He squinted at his sun-drenched garden behind the glass. “Besides, you were innocent.”
“Why is it,” Tanabe began, “that in your view of things, everyone is innocent but you?”
Haruki raised his cup as if in a toast. “We’re all blood drinkers here. Well, Momoko eats livers—but all of us are killers. You, on the other hand, have maintained your innocence. Your goodness. I can’t remember the last time I was good.”
“The day you saved me. The day you saved Ms. Mukai.”
“Ms. Mukai was different. I was guilty as hell after what I did to Chiyo.”
“You didn’t have to help her.”
“Helping her almost got her killed. Now she’s leaving—she’s going to die anyway. What was it all for?”
“The point of it was to live your life for once—for Ms. Mukai to live hers. For a minute there, you were almost a person again.”
Haruki laughed. “I’m not a person. I’m a monster.”
“There you go again.” Ms. Tanabe drummed her fingers atop the table. “You’re afraid. You’ve made terrible mistakes. You’re mired in guilt. That makes you more human than you’ve ever been.”
