Kensei Jon's Arc

Chapter 29 of 49

The wall came in pieces. Kensei carried boards from the market for three mornings. On the fourth he stood outside his own green and blue house, measuring the front wall by eye, when the woman from next door stopped at his fence. She wore a plain apron and carried a basket. She had watched him before. He had felt it. "Building already," she said. "Two men. And a baby." She looked at the boards on his shoulder. "Whose child is she, then?" The old fear woke in Kensei's chest. It was a fast, cold thing. For years a question like that meant a ledger, a report, a decree. He set the boards down slow. His hands wanted to shake. He held them still. "Ours," he said. The woman's mouth tightened. "Ours how? A man doesn't birth a child. And I don't see a wife going in or out." She leaned on the fence. "People ask. I'm asking plain." Kensei heard the front door open. Jeon-min came out with Ha-ni against his shoulder. He did not slow. He walked to the fence and stood beside Kensei, blunt as a nail. "Her name is Ha-ni," Jeon-min said. "I carried her. I birthed her. He's my husband." He shifted the baby so the woman could see her face. "We have papers. The royal seal. Her name and mine and his. You can go to the clerk and read them." The woman blinked. "The seal." "The seal," Jeon-min said again, flat. "And a trade license for our mending. Stamped. You want a hem fixed, bring it. You want to report us, there's nothing to report. It's all legal." Ha-ni stirred. She opened her eyes at the new voice and worked her small mouth, trying to sort the sound. Kensei watched the woman look at the baby and not the men. Something in her face gave. "I only meant—a child needs looking after," the woman said. Her voice had lost its edge. "That's all." "She's looked after," Kensei said. He found his own voice steadier now. The fear had crested and broken. No decree was coming. There was no decree left that could come. "You can see her any day. We're not hiding." The woman studied them both. Then she reached into her basket and set a wrapped bundle on the fence post. "Rice cakes," she said. "For the baby's people." She picked up her basket and went. Jeon-min watched her go. "That's done," he said. Kensei picked up the boards again. His shoulders were loose. The question that had chased him his whole life had knocked at his own fence, and he had answered it in daylight and kept his house. He looked at the flat front wall he was about to divide. "Hold Ha-ni," he said. "I'm starting the wall today."