Chapter 28: Grinding Responsibility
(Thank you to
Sunny,
Restestsest,
Mitch H.,
Adronio, and
MetalDragon for beta-reading and editing this chapter. Hope you enjoy this first chapter of 2023.)
JUNE 30, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1015
The sun beat down, the scorching heat undiminished by the tepid breeze rolling off the distant waters of Sagami Bay. Noon was still an hour and a half away and the true heat of the day wouldn't come until two hours after that, but it was already unbearable.
Spring, I decided,
is well and truly dead.
At the very least, I could take solace in the fact that, as the
de facto ruler of Shinjuku Ghetto, nobody expected me to haul chunks of broken concrete and twisted rebar to waiting wheelbarrows, as I had done in past summers. Indeed, using my authority, I had done my best to ensure that nobody else was expected to do likewise; all above-ground work had moved to a nocturnal schedule, to the rejoicing of all the work crews toiling within the encircling wall.
There were complaints, of course. No matter how universally approved any given decision might be, there would always be complaints. I was sadly aware that their presence was something of a fundamental axiom of society. There was no such thing as a hundred percent approval rating, not so long as those surveyed were free to speak and their words were accurately recorded.
Mister Nishizumi Tsutsumi, the source of many of those complaints, had managed to draw me out of the coolness of the Rising Sun Headquarters' basement before the evening hours, out into the unrelenting heat. Mister Nishizumi, or more properly, Councilor Nishizumi, represented almost a third of the northwestern district of Kamiochiai on the Council of Notables, the governing organ Naoto had set up to help him handle the management of Shinjuku. Since the elder Kozuki had left for the countryside, that group had rapidly become my personal nemesis.
Of course, if I were being honest, I really only had myself to blame for that particular metamorphosis.
"There he is, I think," Masatsugu, the leader of today's three-man security detail, said. "Looks like he's got four others with him."
"Any of them armed?"
The question was mostly
pro forma. Of course Nishizumi would have armed bodyguards. Shinjuku had become drastically safer once the Rising Sun took full control over the entire Ghetto, but nobody with property worth stealing would wander around unarmed given any other option. As a Councilor, Nishizumi both had access to enough supplies to make him a potential target and, thanks to my attempt to garner legitimacy, no shortage of people willing to carry arms for him.
"Yeah," came the laconic reply. "I think two of them that I can see? They just have bats, though. Old baseball bats on their shoulders. The rest could have knives or whatever. You never really know."
"You never really do," I agreed, and winced at how tired I sounded. I would have to do a better job at injecting energy in my voice once I got within earshot of the Councilor. The man was a politician and would have no qualms about leveraging any perceived weakness. "Let's go say hello to the fine Notable, shall we?"
As it turned out, the first greeting came from the Kamiochiai contingent.
"Commander! Welcome to our little slice of heaven!" The Councilor's greeting boomed out into the street, empty under the baking sun save for our respective parties. According to Nagata, Nishizumi Tsutsumi had been part of Japan's Merchant Marine before the Conquest. The ex-sailor clearly hadn't lost any of his capacity for leather-lunged bellowing over the six years he had spent away from the sea. "It's damn hot today, isn't it?"
"Truly an excellent reason to spend the next hour in the Meeting House's basement," I agreed, returning his quick bow with an abbreviated bob of my own, running my eyes over his party. The two openly-armed men both wore Sun Guard
hachimaki and presumably were members of the militia unit drawn from Nishizumi's constituency. Nominally, they were just as much my men as my security detail. Nominally. "So why are we still out here on this street instead of making our way inside?"
"Hey," Councilor Nishizumi, a deeply tanned man in his late thirties sporting a prematurely gray beard, replied with a joviality that rang false in my ears, "nothing wrong with the street! The boys have done a fine job with the repaving work!" The former merchantman paused, before adding, "Send my congratulations to young Kozuki, will you?"
"I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear from you, Councilor, as always." Deciding not to stand on ceremony as I traded barbs with the man, I swept past him and continued on my way towards the newest Rising Sun Meeting House, located only a few blocks away. "You might be happy to hear that I was, in fact, the one who ensured the repaving crews reached as far to the north as Kamiochiai. As such, I am very pleased to hear that you like the new roads."
The Notable was only a pace behind me, following me just as I had known he would. Behind us, his party - his two militiamen, an aide, and a boy a few years older than me who I assumed to be a message runner - fell into step behind my two trailing guards. A petty power play, admittedly, but so had Councilor Nishizumi's choice of meeting location. We could have met in the shadowy interior of the Meeting Hall, but that would have started the meeting in "my territory."
As if this entire city isn't "my territory," I thought with a repressed sneer.
Some days, it feels like this city and its people are merely the Notables to toy with, to hold hostage to their whims, for all that they acknowledge my position. I swore that I would fight for an independent Japan; I didn't swear that I'd recreate the Republic of Japan in all of its maladaptive oligarchic glory.
Long ago, in a different life, I had read a line somewhere about how gratitude was the currency with the shortest half-life. Nothing I had seen from the Council of Notables in the two months since I had taken responsibility for Shinjuku and all those who dwelled within it had disproved that forgotten author's assertion. The gifts I had given and the privileges I had extended had turned into entitlements and sacred rights with remarkable speed. Those first few weeks, when the first and second shipments from Kyoto arrived, had been the good times.
From that highwater mark of cordial relations, my relationship with the Council of Notables had slowly degraded. Their willingness to cooperate had dwindled as the supplies allotted to their districts from the Rising Sun's stockpiles diminished, as had my willingness to tolerate their incessant wheedling.
I still didn't think that I had made a mistake when I had given the Council of Notables control over their home detachments of the Sun Guard. In a way, I had just formalized the current situation, while spinning the facts to suit the narrative that I was in full control of Shinjuku.
The Notables had been elected to the Council by the votes of electors, who were in turn nominated by the various tenements, blocks, and streets within each district. The Notables, therefore, were the local magnates, those with sufficient resources or influence to convince or cozen their district electors to vote for them. They were the people who the young men and women who made up the militia would naturally go to for orders or for help.
By recasting their
de facto control of their people as the result of procedures and consensus beyond my decisions instead of the usual outcome of the human tendency to form hierarchies, I had turned that potential vulnerability into a tangible sign that I wasn't a power-hungry lunatic eager to consolidate power in my own hands.
That I was having enough trouble managing my responsibilities as it was without any further consolidation of power was not something I felt the need to share with the Council of Notables. They expected me to seize every scrap of power I could and had prepared to dig in to resist my encroachment once Naoto named me the authority in Shinjuku. They had told each other that my Britannian blood and tender years would make it inevitable that I'd go mad with power, that I'd prove myself just a gangster who had somehow manipulated the softhearted Naoto.
They didn't understand me, nor did they understand Naoto. Anybody who thought the elder Kozuki was softhearted was a fool; he was simply strong and wise enough to show mercy when he could and should. In truth, I envied his skill at diplomacy and political maneuver. Similarly, they misunderstood me. I had no desire to fight the Notables for power, and so, to their vast surprise, I had simply given it to them, a gift instead of a contest. Entrusting the Notables with their Sun Guard units outside of times of emergency had been the clearest way I could signal that the Rising Sun wasn't just a gang and I had no desire to be a king.
At the time, I had been hoping that such a clear signal, coupled with the free distribution of the food I had purchased with gang money, would lead to mutual cooperation and understanding. For a while, it had. Then, the first Notable had turned down my request to use their Sun Guard as a labor force for a specific project in another district. Another would only agree to a similar request if their district got an extra meal every day for a week, which would have decreased the amount available in all other districts. Battle lines were drawn in the Council.
Past that point, the rot of factionalism had begun to bite in earnest.
It would have been easy, so easy, to force a solution to this problem. The Rising Sun maintained its monopoly on coilguns and ammunition, radios and medicine, and most crucially, over the majority of the stockpiles of food, clothes, and construction materials. The Council of Notables was riven with internal divisions, and while most continuously connived, a distinct minority were loyalists who never asked for more or quibbled when I requested the use of their young people for the greater good of Shinjuku.
It would have been the Britannian thing to do.
Realizing that had been enough to show me the trap that temptation represented. Even with the best of intentions, coercing support from the people of Shinjuku would forever contaminate the public relations well and tarnish my name. I would set myself and my organizations apart as yet another oppressor in a line of oppressors, come to take and take. Once I crossed that line, even to guarantee unity among the governors of Shinjuku, it would be easier to cross it again in the future.
And once I reached that point, I might as well start dressing like a Britannian, because that's what I would be.
With that nightmare scenario in mind, I had set myself to a task I was ill-equipped for and heartily disliked: playing politics.
Which isn't even part of my brief! That was Naoto's job, his and Ohgi's, to a lesser extent! The whining was just as self-serving as any of the endless complaints from the Council, but in the private sanctuary of my mind, I had little compunction about delving into selfishness.
"So, Councilor Nishizumi," I began, slowing slightly to walk beside the man instead of a pace ahead, "what was it exactly that you wanted to inspect at the Meeting House?"
"Your man," the sailor-turned-politician began, "is being a real pain in my ass, Commander. He just came in here, took over the old Post Office, and started throwing his weight around! Considering how much crap your boys hauled inside, he must be sitting on a whole mountain of resources! As the Councilor for Central Kamiochiai, I wanna see what he's hoarding!"
By the end of his miniature rant, Nishizumi was practically spitting the words out; the last word, in particular, was like a curse in his mouth, and it was hard not to wince at the accusation. Given how desperate everyone was in the wake of the Conquest, even the mere
accusation of hoarding was a matter taken very, very seriously in Shinjuku, both back before the Rising Sun had established hegemony and after.
"I can see that you are quite concerned about this matter," I began, trying to remember how Naoto had spoken to the Councilors on the handful of times I'd accompanied him to meetings, "but that doesn't sound like the Nagata Takeshi I know. I trust him and Kozuki Naoto trusts him; they've known one another for years, after all. I doubt he'd throw all of that away just to put the screws to you, Councilor Nishizumi."
To my irritation, only the reminder that Naoto trusted Nagata dented the Notable's hostile expression even slightly. "Even good men can have bad friends," Nishizumi rebutted, thankfully lapsing into silence as we approached the Kamiochiai Rising Sun Meeting House, where Nagata stood waiting by the door for us.
It was immediately obvious that there was no love lost between the two men.
"Nagata," I said, stepping out ahead of Councilor Nishizumi and greeting my lieutenant, "thank you for agreeing to meet with us today. I'm sure you're quite busy as it is."
"Commander," he acknowledged, and I tried not to wince at the title someone in the Rising Sun had slapped onto me. I suspected Inoue was the responsible party, judging by the way her lips twitched whenever someone used the title in her earshot. "I'm always happy to make time for you. I hope the trip all the way out here wasn't too bad?"
"A little heat won't stop me," I replied, full of false heartiness, which fell away as I continued. "Especially considering the… concerns Councilor Nishizumi has raised."
"Concerns, eh?" Judging by the way the Councilor's lips twitched, he had clearly intended to punctuate the sentence with a gob of spit but had thought better of it at the last moment. "Yeah, I've got some
concerns, if that's how you want to put it. Commander," his voice rose, full of belligerent certainty, "Like I said, your man here is a hoarder! He's skimming off the top of the distribution for my district, for Central Kamiochiai, and keeping it squirreled away for his own use! Believe me!"
"I certainly believe that I've heard you say all that and more," I coolly replied, turning to look up at the former sailor, who stood a solid two heads taller than me. "Indeed, I believe that's why I'm out here this bright and sunny morning. I have heard your concerns and shared them with Nagata here. We three will inspect the measuring devices and the stores here at the Kamiochiai Meeting House and hopefully put your mind at ease in the process."
"Right," Nishizumi nodded curtly, his temper, for the moment, back under control. "And in the interest of fairness and transparency and such, you won't mind if my man Shun here," he hooked a finger over at the skinny man I had apparently correctly identified as his aide, "tags along as a witness, right?"
"Well," I said, smiling blandly up at the man, "I can certainly respect your love of transparency, Councilor Nishizumi, and fairness also. So, in the name of fairness, I think Nagata should be allowed to bring along a witness of his own, wouldn't you agree?"
Before the Notable could protest, I turned to Nagata. "Nagata? Would you kindly find us a witness and lead us to the distribution room, or wherever you're keeping the cups and the scales? Let's hurry up and get on with this."
That conversation more or less set the pace for the next hour and a half. As Masatsugu and my other two guards cooled their heels in the Meeting House's dining room in the company of Nishizumi's two guards and his messenger, I did my best to keep the peace between Nagata and Nishizumi as we examined the cups used to dole out rice and flour, the scales that weighed the measure of biscuit, and the larders that provided for the thrice-weekly communal meals.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Nishizumi took every chance he could to snipe at Nagata. The usually quiet and mild mannered Kozuki Organization member was uncharacteristically giving back just as much as he got, once even snarling at the Councilor in reply to some snide comment or another. While the root of their tension was still unknown to me, it was clearly a deeply personal and mutual resentment they shared.
Annoyingly, this was a situation that could have been avoided had I spent more time with the individual Councilors before or, for that matter, if I'd shared more one-on-one time with Nagata in the last several months. In my defense, I had been busy and Nagata had fully capitalized on his return to Shinjuku to spend as much time as he could with his wife and little daughter, Ami and Yukari respectively, and before he had left Naoto had done a fine job managing the Council.
But perhaps if I had shown more interest in the lives of my subordinates and in the network of social grudges and alliances in the Council of Notables, this whole situation could have been avoided!
It was an unhelpful thought, self-castigating and based on speculation about the hypotheticals. Yes, it would have been helpful to know that Nagata had a long-standing grudge against the man who represented a third of the Kamiochiai District before I had put him in charge of the new Meeting House distribution point in that area. Yes, perhaps I should have asked the three Councilors who represented the district for their input on the Meeting House and its staff.
But what was done is done, and I was thoroughly sick of trying to manage the pair of them. But, while neither Nagata nor Nishizumi had endeared themselves to me lately, it rapidly became apparent that Nishizumi had no evidence of any embezzlement from the Rising Sun's supplies on Nagata's part beyond vague claims about "what everyone knows", nor did the inspection of the measuring devices find any indications of tampering.
"You saw it yourself, Councilor," I said, trying to keep my tone level and my frustration off my face. "We looked all around the Meeting Hall. Every room was made available for your inspection. No signs of any hoarded supplies, no signs of rigged cups or unfair scales. Unless there's some further evidence you can supply, I will insist that you recant your accusations against Nagata."
"Like hell I will!" The former merchantman's stentorian was deafeningly loud in the lobby of the post office turned Rising Sun building. "Mark my words,
Commander, that man is a slippery little shit! He's stealing from you, he's stealing from me, and more importantly he's stealing from my people!"
"Don't blame me for your own failures,
Councilor. " Nagata retorted, his face an ugly mess of blotchy spots, his fists tightly clenched at his sides. "Just because you can't keep your own house in order doesn't mean I'm sabotaging you. Unlike some people I could mention, I don't need to stoop to gangsterism to earn respect!"
"You little shit!"
At Councilor Nishizumi's bellow of rage, I took the opportunity to physically step between the two men, forcing them to separate or shove me aside.
"Enough!" I barked, all but snarling with barely contained frustration. The voice of authority, honed on the Prussian parade grounds and Alsatian battlefields, effortlessly cut through the chaos of the argument like shrapnel through a teenaged draftee. For a moment I stared down both men, cowing them into silence with the unspoken weight of my displeasure. The armed members of my security detail looming behind me were an unnecessary afterthought as the two squabblers fell silent, neither able to maintain eye contact with me.
"Nagata," I said, starting with my old ally and friend. The ex-plumber's arms immediately snapped to his sides as he stood at attention, the lessons from The School making themselves known. "The Rising Sun never lacks work for idle hands. Kindly take this opportunity to start working on preparing your staff for the next distribution. Handling those matters is your responsibility; I will handle things here."
For a moment, I saw defiance flicker in my subordinate as his eyes darted to the Notable beside me, almost aglow with simmering rage. Thankfully, that rage wasn't quite enough to make Nagata forget himself; he took a breath, held it, and let it go. "...Yes, Commander."
Nishizumi looked like he was going to make a parting crack as Nagata left, but thankfully he caught my quelling look and kept his mouth shut. For now, at least.
"Councilor Nishizumi," I began again, my voice not nearly as level as I would have liked, "I understand that you have personal business with Nagata, and I understand your commendable dedication to the welfare of your district. However, unless you have evidence that he has actually committed some wrong against you or yours, I insist that you cease making accusations against him."
Before the inevitable angry rejoinder could come, I continued in a more conciliatory tone. "I won't ask for an apology, as that seems like a bridge too far. And, if you can actually provide evidence," I spread my hands, as if I was accepting something from him, "I would be more than happy to see it. I think we can all agree that while we struggle under the boot of Britannian oppression, betraying each other for greed and selfishness is among the most intolerable of crimes.
"And you don't like Nagata? Fine. He is a valued friend of Naoto's, but I won't force everyone to bow and scrape to him just because of his personal connections. We're not
Britannians, after all, desperately trying to pad our fragile egos." I paused as I gave him an opportunity to respond, levelly meeting his hostile gaze. After the Councilor proved himself wise enough to not take the obvious bait, I continued. "If you have a personal problem with Nagata, that's between the two of you; I'm not your mother and I won't force you to kiss and make up.
"
But," I growled, "When you make your personal rivalry
my problem? When you waste what precious time I have with your nonsense and petty animosity? When you waste
all of our time dragging us out to some warehouse in order to grandstand to a captive audience? Well, now you have entirely exceeded my personal capacity for patience. So, I am telling you now to stop making this my problem. Settle matters between yourselves or get over it. If there is actual theft, bring me evidence that I can use. Solve your problem, or I
will solve it for you, and I assure you that you will neither like nor enjoy my solution."
I paused, looking for any sign of give in Councilor Nishizumi's deeply tanned and lined face. "Am I understood?"
Councilor Nishizumi's jaw clenched, and for a moment I thought he would actually take a swing at me. The old sailor loomed over me, glaring down and all but demanding that I submit. I refused to look away or step back, and for a long, silent minute, we teetered on the edge of escalation.
Then, the big man subsided. The old merchantman slipped away and the politician swam forwards to take his place. "Oh, I understand you," he agreed readily, and for all that his voice was level and his volume approximately normal, his tone was only a small step above a growl.
"I thank you very kindly for your wise advice,
Commander." Nishizumi's expression was closer to a pained grimace than anything recognizable as a smile. "I can see why young Kozuki entrusted his city to your just rule. So, you want evidence, do you? Fine. That's fine. I'll make sure you get all the
evidence you could possibly need to see your way clear to giving my people what's theirs and getting that thieving rat well away from me."
"If such evidence exists," I confirmed, nodding slightly but not breaking eye contact for an instant, "I will review it objectively and follow up on it if I find any indications of rule-breaking, hoarding, or embezzlement."
"Good, good." The Notable's reply came out in a horrible almost-crooning sing-song, his smile frozen and immobile on his face as if it had disconnected from the mind behind it. "Of course, I never had any doubts that you'd do any less, Commander."
"I know exactly what my duties are." I didn't bother to keep the snap out of my voice. "I know exactly who and what I fight for. The people of Central Kamiochiai are not forgotten. Nor are their interests. I will not stand for anybody in my organization to impede or misrepresent those interests, just as I will not permit any factional division while we live under the Britannian hammer."
"Of course you wouldn't," Councilor Nishizumi cried out, mocking horror at the very idea. "After all, there's no way that young Kozuki's substitute would ever stoop to something so unjust as separate standards or crass nepotism! Certainly not. After all," he continued, a smirk curdling on his lips, "there's certainly no way a fine young lady like yourself would ever stoop to something so…
Britannian, now is there?"
More posturing followed, but I stubbornly refused to rise to the bait or give the Councilor the satisfaction of knowing any of his barbs had found purchase. I kept my eyes fixed on the tiresome old man's until his bluster finally subsided, when he gathered his small party and at long last made his exit, all the while making none-too-subtle threats about nebulous "evidence" he would present at the next gathering of the Notables.
I waited until Councilor Nishizumi had left the Rising Sun Meeting House before I called for Nagata.
Despite all of the morning's efforts, the issue of the Kamiochiai Meeting House and its relations with the local Notable remained open. Between the inspection which had turned up nothing of note and the Councilor's own words, it was abundantly clear that the question of unfair distributions was a mere pretense for a more personal quarrel, one I hadn't been aware of before I'd blundered into it. Such, I had found out to my great annoyance, were the ways of politics.
No wonder Naoto had been so eager to shift it all onto my shoulders.
And yet, like it or not, it was my mess to clean up as the only meaningful authority in Shinjuku. I would do my best; to do anything less would be to betray myself and all of the work of my comrades and coworkers. But to resolve this irritation, one among many, I needed to learn where its roots were, so I could rip it out entirely.
As it turned out, they lay in infuriatingly shallow soil.
"He was Ami's boyfriend when I met her four years ago," Nagata said, answering my question immediately and without further prompting. "They were together when I met her, and she left him for me."
"I see." I nodded, grasping for reasonability. "And there wasn't any overlap, was there, Nagata? No possible reason why any third party might reasonably conclude that either Ami was cheating on Mister Nishizumi or that you stole her from the man? Assure me that much, please."
"The relationship was all but over already," he protested, although I saw guilt flash across his face for an instant. "She was already planning to move out before I even met her! She told me that they were through and she was leaving him, so I went ahead and took my chance!"
"...So that's why he accused you of theft, is it?" I sighed. "This entire mess, all that shouting, all over some stupid soap opera tier relationship drama?"
"To be fair to Mister Nagata," Masatsugu put in from where he stood by the only door out of Nagata's office, on the second floor of the Rising Sun Meeting Hall, "Nishizumi's a piece of shit. He used to be a sub-boss for the
Kokuryu-kai, back in the old days. Once the Purist fuckfaces broke them up he spun his group off into their own gang, the
Oni. They were bastards then and they're still bastards now. I don't blame Miss Ami for ditching his old ass."
"I didn't ask for your input, Masatsugu," I replied, turning on him. Seeing my bodyguard's scarred face, a thought occurred to me. "Weren't you in a gang too, Masatsugu? Who was your boss?"
"You killed him," he replied with a broad grin. "Well, not you personally, but me and my crew were King's Men."
I quickly ran the name through my mind, trying to remember where I'd heard it before. "One of the Kawadacho gangs, right? That was the group who used to control the Refrain trade in Shinjuku, wasn't it?"
"That's the one," he confirmed. "But, well… You know how the big boys used to operate, right? The difference between 'core' members and the rest of us, yeah?"
In my mind's eye two groups of gangsters forced their way into a communal dinner, ready to steal our food and anything else that took their fancy. One group was as well fed as any Japanese in the Ghetto, their hair bleached blonde and sporting shoddy imitations of Britannian fashion. The other group was a pack of wretched-looking men: their clothes were almost as ragged as everybody else's, and only the scarves wound around their arms and the knives and bats in their hands announced their status as gang members.
"Indeed," I managed a half-smile at the man. "Well, I appreciate your willingness to work for me now. I am sure that, with your help, the Rising Sun will continue to climb ever higher into the heavens. I appreciate you braving the heat and joining me here for the express purpose of wasting your morning."
"Yes, Commander!" His salute was full of vigor yet sloppy, a gesture he had seen others do and tried his best to emulate. I had selected him for his current duty based on that keenness, and though he didn't know it yet, his place in one of the upcoming School cohorts was guaranteed. Keenness aside, the glowing respect and pride I saw in his eyes when he looked at me made me uncomfortable.
I was respected by my companions and friends in the Kozuki Organization, both the old Kozuki Cell members and the men and women I'd trained with at The School. They knew I was a capable individual, and treated me as such. That said, they'd also seen me when I screwed up, when I was weak, when I was vulnerable, and so none of them looked at me with the hero worship I could see glowing in Masatsugu's eyes.
Except for that one evening when Naoto saw my magic… I shuddered and pushed that memory away. It had been profoundly uncomfortable to see adulation on my leader's face as he gazed upon the fire in my hand.
I turned away from that uncomfortable reverence, back to the familiar territory represented by Nagata's stoic face. "Let me know if Nishizumi tries anything, Nagata. I'll send a unit or two of Sun Guard from other districts, just to help out on some projects in the area, for the next few days. That ought to send a message."
"As you say, Commander," Nagata nodded attentively, clearly relieved that I wasn't delving any further into any potential misdeeds he might have committed against Nishizumi.
I was tempted to tell Nagata to knock it off with the title, that he'd known me when I was Tanya and that he'd more than earned the right to call me by name.
And yet, I thought,
I'm not just Hajime Tanya now. I'm Commander Hajime, head of the Shinjuku Rising Sun. Cringing away from that helps nobody, and if embracing the title and authority helps keep other parasites like Nishizumi in their place…
I returned his nod. "Best of luck with next week's distribution, Nagata."
---------
Back at the Rising Sun Headquarters, the original Meeting House and distribution center in the Waseda District of central Shinjuku, I had another meeting to attend. Thankfully, it was conducted inside and over lunch, a welcome break from the heat of noon.
"Alright," I said, pushing the empty rice bowl away and bringing the chatter to an immediate halt, "let's get started. We're all quite busy these days and we've got a lot to get through, so please keep your reports short. If I want further detail, I'll schedule a follow-up so everybody else won't need to hang around."
My six lunchtime companions nodded in a chorus of bobbing heads. This little assembly consisted of an equal number of skilled experts and picked members of the Sun Guard militia whom I felt had shown enough responsibility to shoulder a few of the tasks I could delegate. Much like the Sun Guard, I had fished the experts from the sea of humanity constrained within Shinjuku's enclosing walls.
Taken together with the currently absent Inoue and Nagata, they constituted my Leadership Commission.
The first to speak was one of the experts, a scrawny man even by the malnourished standards of Shinjuku by the name of Junji. Before the Conquest, he had worked at the Japan Broadcasting Corporations' FM radio station servicing the western parts of Tokyo Prefecture as a technician, in charge of maintaining and repairing radio equipment. In recent months, he had become the backbone of our expanding pirate radio network.
"The Gunma Relay is up and functional again, as of yesterday," Junji said, starting the meeting off on a high note. "Seems like it was just a wiring issue, easy enough to fix that I was able to walk your man there through the process via text. I should warn you," he continued, his tone dipping as he tried to convey the gravity of the matter, "the parts issue still needs to be addressed. We can only stretch what we have so far."
When the Rising Sun's activities had been all but entirely confined to Shinjuku, it had been easy to conceal our communications. We had used burner phones and cryptic word choice to reduce the chances that any Britannian intelligence officer monitoring cell traffic in and near the Ghetto would be able to piece our operations together, but that strategy had relied mostly upon the protective camouflage of a city's worth of communication obscuring our handful of calls and texts.
Now that the Rising Sun had begun to spread out into the rural areas of central Honshu, spearheaded by Naoto and Souichiro as Ohgi and Tamaki kept an eye on The School, relying on luck and Britannian laziness was no longer acceptable. Cell traffic, routed through Britannian telecom companies and their cell towers, was too risky. Which was when Junji had brought himself to my attention.
The former radio technician had heard that I was looking for new routes of communication and had placed his professional experience at my disposal. Indeed, he had been practically giddy to tell me everything he could about operating a radio network, which unfortunately led to a lengthy lecture heavily laden with technical details that were, broadly speaking, entirely lost on me.
But more importantly, Junji had come through with a connection to some shady Honorary Britannians with unspecified access to a warehouse full of last generation radio equipment, all second-hand from various commercial stations upgrading their equipment to the current models provided by some noble monopoly or another. Thankfully, Junji's connections had been all too eager to sell whatever outdated surplus equipment we needed at very reasonable rates.
And, after the first shipment had arrived, Junji had set to work with gusto. He had been eager to return to indoor work without any heavy lifting after weeks of helping to pack new insulation into the freshly repaired crawlspaces of various tenements around Shinjuku, although he had been less happy when I told him that his technical expertise had landed him a post on the newly-organized Leadership Commission.
Within weeks, antennas began to appear throughout the Shinjuku Ghetto, each connected to concealed receivers. So far, our crude little network was quite small and almost entirely confined to Shinjuku. Five transmitters, each broadcasting on a different frequency, were scattered around Shinjuku, with the nearest located in a building down the street from the Rising Sun's headquarters.
More recently, Ohgi had managed to get his own receiver/transmitter established in an abandoned farm near The School. Unfortunately, his gear lacked the range to communicate directly with us, so a team had been dispatched to install a relay in a small shack on the slopes of Sakurayama, just over the Gunma-Saitama border.
"Your concerns are noted," I replied, nodding to Junji. "Money's tight, but I'll reach out to my partner to see if he's got anything in our price range. Feel free to ask around yourself, by the way. Surely someone's worked as a janitor in one of the Britannian stations or whatever. If they know about anything easily stolen, bring it to me and I'll see if it's feasible."
Junji nodded and sat down, his report apparently completed.
"I suppose if we can talk to Naoto and Ohgi again, we can pick up the pace of the evacuations?" I turned to the woman next to him, one of the Sun Guard militia officers I'd picked out for special attention. "What are your thoughts on the matter, Lieutenant?"
The title sat uneasily on the shoulders of the recently dubbed Lieutenant Ichiya, who very much lacked any sort of military bearing. And yet, I had dropped that title on her anyway; the Kozuki Organization and its appendages had reached the point where a formalized chain of command was necessary. Even though Naoto, Ohgi, and I were handing the ranks out more or less as a matter of fiat, all three of us had agreed to insist they be respected. So far, nobody had pushed back against the rash of sudden promotions.
This lieutenant in particular had the dubious honor to be the point woman for one of the Rising Sun's most ambitious projects to date: The steady evacuation of as many people out of Shinjuku Ghetto and the Tokyo Settlement as possible.
"It'll definitely help, being able to talk to Gunma again," Lieutenant Ichiya said, belatedly rising to her feet as she realized that everybody else in the room had turned to look at her. "I mean, I guess that's pretty obvious, but it'll really make things easier, especially when some people get lost or whatever. Which, you know, happens, especially during the night handoffs."
Five weeks ago, I had sent out several volunteer units of Sun Guard to establish way stations on the route Naoto and I had agreed upon between Shinjuku and his current location in the mountains north of Takasaki. The way stations traced a line from Asaka just over the Tokyo-Saitama prefectural border to the outskirts of Honjo, just south of Takasaki, and each had hiding spots for two or three trucks and up to one hundred tightly packed people.
Ever since the last way station was finally established - at Ogawa, in Saitama Prefecture, after the original station was discovered and destroyed by the local Honorary Britannian auxiliaries - up to a hundred people every night had slipped out of the Ghetto, following paths through derelict subway tunnels and sewers under the Ghetto walls and out into the surrounding Settlement, where waiting trucks carried them to the first way station.
"Broadly speaking," Lieutenant Ichiya continued, "things are going about as well as we could reasonably ask for. I mean," she grimaced, "shit happens. Trucks break down, someone has a heart attack, whatever. But, the important part is, there's no sign that the Brits have realized anything's up. The only time we've run into anything like a patrol was just a pack of traitors, and they were happy enough to take the money once the driver told 'em a baron up north had bought the cargo."
She's getting better, I thought, noting how the lieutenant's hands barely shook at the mention of traffickers.
Hopefully, she continues along that trajectory. A less jumpy officer would be ideal.
Lieutenant Ichiya had earned her promotion by stepping up from Chihiro's crowd to take her leader's place in her absence. Almost as soon as Chihiro had left the Ghetto, I had begun working to reintegrate her free company back into the main Rising Sun organization, starting by giving Ichiya her rank and handing her responsibilities that extended past the several hundred freed slaves who had fallen into Chihiro's orbit.
Now I nodded at my officer's report, impassive despite my anger. Not at the lie, but rather because the fact that the local Honorary Britannian police had accepted it implied that it hadn't been the first time they'd stopped a truck loaded with Japanese.
And the drivers probably weren't lying, most of those other times.
Sometimes, it was very difficult to remember why I had continued to lobby against the general desire to kill any Honorary we could reach. Intellectually, I knew that excising however many percent of the Japanese population who had taken up oaths to the invaders was counter-productive, especially in a theoretical post-independence state, even more so when that percentage represented the bulk of the recently educated population. Emotionally, though…
Remember, I told myself,
if you could have taken up the oaths and become an Honorary Britannian, if that path had truly represented a better life with upward mobility, you certainly would be on the other side of that line now.
"Very good," I said, nodding at the lieutenant. "Keep up the good work. Let me know if you need further resources, besides-" I raised a quelling hand, seeing the words already forming in her mouth, "besides the usual rations and such. Inoue said she found a contact who'd recently come into possession of two shipping containers worth of Britannian Army ration packs, so hopefully that will be handled for the next few weeks, at least."
Lieutenant Ichiya subsided with a curt nod, and I moved on to the next person waiting. "Miss Tsuchiya, do you have anything to report?"
The teacher gave me a wan smile as she stood to address the room. I'd spoken with the woman a handful of times since we'd first met back in April, the latest of which had been when I had requested her presence on this Commission. All of those conversations had unfortunately been quite stilted and awkward for both of us. Miss Tsuchiya clearly didn't know quite how to interact with me, someone the age of her students yet a major political figure, and speaking with her always reminded me of things and times I'd rather not think about.
Her invitation to sit in on some of her classes with my age-group peers still hung between us. She had reassured me once that the invitation would always be open, should I choose to accept it, but despite thanking her I had never felt the impulse to go. Frankly, I didn't know how attending a middle school level class could possibly benefit me, considering the memories I carried of my previous lives' educational experiences.
And besides, I thought as I smiled encouragingly at the former educator, the head of both the embryonic Shinjuku Educational System and the vocational training program,
I have no desire to see the children of Shinjuku, or, rather, the other children of Shinjuku. Life in the Ghetto with all of its daily tragedies is depressing enough without seeing all of those too-old faces. I see that enough in the mirror… Or without seeing those children with their parents… With their mothers.
Just brushing up against that word brought a familiar stinging pain and an upsurge of memories. Despite the time, they were still as sharp as always, as difficult to handle.
It's like a broken tooth, I considered,
or some exposed nerve that I just can't help probing every now and again. Every time I do so, it hurts, but I just can't quite leave it alone.
Thankfully, despite my earlier admonition, Miss Tsuchiya seemed in no hurry to speak, so I didn't miss any of her words with my woolgathering. Perhaps she had been waiting for my focus to return to her, some teacher's instinct informing her that her intended audience wasn't quite ready yet to learn, but it was only when she saw my infinitesimal nod that she began.
"The recruitment program is outpacing my expectations," she began, glancing down at her notes to check her figures. "It seems like my fellow educators are quite eager to return to their professions. As of this week, I have managed to secure the services of sixty-four primary school instructors, thirty-five secondary school educators, and seventeen college-level lecturers with varying specialties. I've also managed to find fifty-three early learning and childcare specialists who were willing to help run a kindergarten program as well.
"On the vocational training front," Miss Tsuchiya flipped to a different page in her notebook and took a second to refresh herself on the figures before looking back up to meet the collective gaze of the room, "it's been a bit harder going since many of the prospective instructors are otherwise engaged with the construction projects and the like. Still, I managed to find a number of electricians, plumbers, and carpenters willing to teach. I've also found a few former nurses who are willing to conduct first aid classes as well."
"Junji," I said, turning back to the radio technician, who had been taking the opportunity to make headway into a second helping of beans and rice.
He startled to his feet at the sound of his name, gulping down his mouthful. "Y-yeah?" He got out, licking a few errant grains from his lips to the general amusement of the gathering. "What's up, Commander?"
"Get in contact with Miss Tsuchiya and get some classes scheduled," I instructed, ignoring the unprofessional sniggering echoing from certain corners of the room at the radio technician's expense. "Your skills are too valuable to live solely inside your head. Besides, this way you'll have other people to foist handling tech support questions off on, not to mention extra hands to help carry the load as the network expands."
When I'd begun, Junji'd had a distinctly uncooperative expression plastered across his face. At the implication that he'd no longer have to walk unskilled Shinjuku residents turned rural guerrillas through the basics of radio set-up and maintenance, he brightened visibly. Then he paled, as some new and terrible thought dawned on him.
"Wait, but…" I gestured impatiently for him to continue. "Does that mean I'd have to… to teach those classes?"
"Yes," I said, not entirely without sympathy. "I know, public speaking can be a hassle. But, we all have our sacrifices to make for the Cause."
He nodded resignedly at that and retook his seat, turning his attention back to his food as I turned my attention back to my very own Minister for Education, if on a tiny scale. "Thank you for your report, Miss Tsuchiya. Please keep up the recruitment efforts. Have you had any success finding usable textbooks in Japanese?"
"Not much," she admitted, before adding "but I'm still looking, Miss- I mean, Commander Hajime. I'm sure I'll turn something up eventually. They… They can't have burnt everything." Her mouth tightened. "I hope…"
In my mind, Naruko Tenjin Shrine burned again, the last place of worship in Shinjuku gone up in flames as the last doddering priest of the
Kami bled out in a gutter two streets away.
They certainly could have, I thought, seeing a similar awareness writ across Miss Tsuchiya's face,
after all, mere Numbers have no need of culture and less need of books and educational materials. And besides, even if the Britannians hadn't burnt every remnant of Japan in their reach, who would prioritize keeping books safe and dry over six years' worth of flooding, fire, and rot? Especially when even wood for cooking fuel was so scarce…
"I'm sure you'll find something eventually," I said, deciding to outwardly buy into the optimistic dream of some hidden cache of Japanese literature waiting to be rediscovered in the Ghetto, "and I'll pass a message to Naoto, asking him to keep his eyes peeled for any books he might find out in the rural villages. In the meantime, why don't you set those professors you dug up to the work of putting something together for use until more books are found?"
The look on Miss Tsuchiya's face was almost pathetically grateful, and I didn't know if it came from the understanding and support I'd extended, or if it was because I hadn't brought the cruel hammer of reality down on her head. Either way, she humbly ducked her head and thanked me before sitting back down.
As with seemingly every interaction I had with the woman, I felt wretched immediately afterwards. Ohgi should have been here; he was a teacher as well and could speak to Miss Tsuchiya as a peer, without all these... complications.
It wasn't that Miss Tsuchiya was unpleasant, or that I found speaking with her a burden, as much as it was that I had difficulty handling what she represented. With her teachers rested the last hope of saving some part of our fading and torn culture, to preserve what it was to be Japanese in the minds of the young. The hope that the people of Shinjuku would have a future beyond a life of hard work and drudgery, a future that extended past walls pocked with bullet holes, a future where people would have the time and freedom to sit and read, to learn, to develop new ideas that weren't chiefly concerned with guaranteeing that tomorrow would come.
Sometimes, it was very difficult indeed, to keep that hope alive. The hollows under Miss Tsuchiya's eyes were a wordless testament to her own private troubles and worries. In her obvious gratitude for even the crumbs of support I could offer, I could plainly see how tenuous her own hopes for the future were.
Pointedly turning my face away from Miss Tsuchiya, I moved on to the first figure seated on the other side of the table.
Asahara Hiyashi was just as I remembered him from our first meeting, in the waning days of last November. The engineer looked like a man from a different world, or perhaps a different time. In his fifties, he was at least ten years older than anybody else in attendance, and his smug, almost haughty expression betrayed no concession to six years of hard living in Shinjuku, nor the loss of the lower half of his left leg. For all that his crutches rested against the wall behind him, his neat button-up shirt and slightly stained tie made it look like he had just stepped out of some pre-Conquest office to join our meeting.
"Mister Hiyashi," I began, my tone coolly respectful, "how are your projects progressing? Anything to report?"
"Nothing worth my time," he grumped. "Nothing particularly difficult to manage, except in terms of scale and the need to explain every last thing to the work crews."
"But you are still making progress despite that impediment, I hope?" I knew the answer already; the stench of new asphalt hung over the length and breadth of Shinjuku like morning fog. Every entrance to old subway tunnels was a hive of activity, and buildings with particularly spacious basements were hubs for foot traffic in and out.
"Yes, yes," Mister Asahara replied, his wave impatient. "Things are well in hand. Just over half of the old subway tunnels are navigable now, and those should be sealed against the worst of the wet for when the rain comes back. As for the air raid bunkers, we crossed four hundred of them yesterday. Keep in mind, though, that they won't do a thing against a direct hit."
"Noted," I replied in the same desultory tone as he'd spoken in. "We just need places where noncombatants can hide, not a bunker fit for the Prime Minister, if we still had one. How are the nest installations going?"
The "nests" fell into two broad categories, but both referred to specifically strengthened and fortified rooms in the many cadaverous, unevenly canting buildings across the Shinjuku skyline. The nests at or just above street level had been reinforced with concrete slabs and piles of sandbags; if the Britannians pushed into Shinjuku in earnest, each would be manned by Sun Guard or Kozuki Organization rifle units. If I could get crew-served weapons out of the Six Houses, some of those low-altitude strongpoints would become machine-gun nests.
The high-altitude nests were comparatively skimpy, just rooms that had been lined with thermal blankets to baffle the infrared scanners built into Knightmare FactSpheres, with heaps of sandbags at the windows to provide some additional cover for those inside. These locations would, if necessary, become the haunt of smaller kill teams equipped with long-range scoped rifles and any shoulder-launched anti-armor or anti-air weapons I could shake loose from Kyoto's pockets.
"They're fine," Mister Asahara replied shortly. "They're completely useless at the moment, since you don't have anything to put in them and your militia are too amateurish to be effective, but at least hauling sandbags up twenty flights of stairs gives the men who aren't doing anything productive something to do."
That comment earned a round of angry muttering from the three militia officers present, but a quick glare at the trio brought them back to grudging silence.
"Thank you for your insight, Mister Asahara," I said, not letting an iota of sarcasm reach my voice. "Now, about the special project…?"
"All handled, don't worry about it." For the first time at this meeting, a smile flickered across Mister Asahara's face. "Anybody stupid enough to pilot a
Sutherland in is gonna get what's coming to them, assuming your boys aren't asleep on the switch." For a moment, the old engineer looked almost wistful. "It's been fun, doing something that actually has a bit of scale for a change. After fiddling with pressure cookers and pipe bombs for years, it's a nice return to form."
And what, I wondered,
was that form you so clearly long for, if building wire-detonated anti-vehicle mines and carefully setting them in recesses in the roadbed below the fresh pavement represents a return to it?
I didn't vocalize that question, partially because I knew I wouldn't get a straight answer, and partially because I could tell he was desperate for someone to ask so he could pointedly not answer.
Damned drama queen.
"I rejoice for you," I replied, my dry response in lieu of asking the baited question. "Anything else to report?"
"Not in regards to the work," Mister Asahara replied, elegantly moving on from the unasked question and almost managing to fully conceal the quick flash of disappointment. "But, I do have something else I need to speak to you about. Preferably, alone."
And there's my post-meeting appointment, I suppose.
I nodded my assent to his request, and the one-legged engineer relaxed back into his chair. "Nothing further, Commander."
Ignoring his smirk at my title, I nodded at the militia officer sitting next to Asahara, a lanky specimen with closely cropped hair and a face disfigured by a long, ropy scar that slashed a line from the center of his forehead down along the bridge of his nose and across his lips, terminating at the chin. Even ignoring the badly healed cut that divided his features into two, his face was particularly spare, as if someone had boiled all the fat away from under the skin. Perhaps that had been a further result of his disfiguring injury, some fever melting away at him from the inside.
Without further prompting, Lieutenant Koichi stood. Unlike Lieutenant Ichiya, the man didn't seem to find his new rank discomforting in the slightest, standing easily in a position approximating parade rest. "Commander," he acknowledged, lowering his head slightly in a suggestion of a bow. "Nothing extraordinary to report. Of course, should you wish further detail…" His voice trailed off suggestively, hinting at a wealth of data at my disposal.
Very comfortable with his new standing indeed, I mused, meeting Koichi's eyes. For all that his injury left his face nearly immobile, his eyes were lively, expressive and thoughtful.
Perhaps a bit too comfortable, now that I think about it.
Lieutenant Koichi's special unit of Sun Guard drew from the militia units of several different districts, but most came from the areas of Shinjuku with the longest history with the Rising Sun. In fact, some of his men and women came from the same tenement I'd lived in with Naoto and Ohgi. Many of them had previously assisted Naoto with his "special work", the details of which had only been made clear to me after Naoto had left for the country.
While the newly formed special unit had the same
hachimaki tied around their foreheads as all other Sun Guard units, they also wore navy blue sashes over whatever else they happened to be wearing, setting themselves apart from their comrades. Initially, I had planned to institute an armband, but changed my mind when I remembered that the common way to display gang loyalty had been scarves of the gang's colors tied around the bicep.
Considering the work the special unit, the Internal Affairs Force, would be handling, anything that spoke of gangsterism had to be avoided to the greatest extent possible.
Especially since the IAF, with the most loyal of the various Sun Guard units in its ranks, is the closest thing Shinjuku has to a police force now. I tried not to frown at the thought.
And yet, thief-taking is only their secondary duty. Their main job is to make sure that all of the mutterings don't turn into action. For that, if for no other reason, Lieutenant Koichi is well placed to act as their chief.
"Let's schedule a meeting for tomorrow," I replied, mentally penciling the appointment into my schedule. "We can go over your details in greater length then, without detaining everybody else present."
The intact corner of Koichi's mouth flicked up at that, amused by my choice of words. "As you like it, Commander," the policeman nodded, settling back down into his chair. "Just let me know where and when."
"I will," I assured him, before moving my gaze to the last member of the Commission in attendance. "Lieutenant Fumiaki, what news do you have from the missions to Ibaraki and Kanagawa?"
"A mixed bag, Commander."
Lieutenant Fumiaki was another of the seemingly endless crowd of hardworking men who populated the Ghetto, all callused hands and careworn faces. Unlike most of those hard workers, however, and unlike everybody else in the room with the exception of myself, Lieutenant Fumiaki, also known as Jo-on, was a
hafu. Born to a Korean father and a Japanese mother, the lieutenant had the good fortune to look almost entirely Japanese, something that I could have resented him for if it wasn't for his easy charm and eternally buoyant personality.
"We've been hearing daily reports back from Yoshi and the boys you sent to Ibaraki," he continued, correcting himself by hastily adding "Captain Yoshi, sorry. But," he continued, "communication with Yokohama's been decidedly more spotty. I don't think we've heard from
Lieutenant Chihiro in at least four days or so. And even before that, we hardly heard at all from her and her lot."
Well, that has the potential to be quite worrying.
It was difficult to decide what was more likely, that Chihiro had encountered some enemy action or adverse accident that had destroyed her capability to communicate with us via any one of the number of burner phones she'd left Shinjuku with, or if she had simply pitched another temper tantrum. Either way, it was bad news. While I cared little for Chihiro or her welfare, I had sent two of her more vocal allies along with her, and as their leader, I had a duty towards them.
That said, there's only so much I can do from Shinjuku. I have neither the time nor the freedom to take a day trip down to Yokohama.
I do have the freedom to send someone in my stead, however.
"Someone, find a trustworthy messenger," I said, scribbling a quick note to Inoue on my notepad to entrust one of our portable receivers to the bearer of the note, "someone who knows how to drive. Tell them to pick up a radio and whatever they need and get out of Shinjuku. Once they're out, they're to steal a car and head south, but
be careful! The Britannians mustn't know. Ask Inoue for where she thinks Chihiro set up. If they can't find the lieutenant in a day or three, they're to turn around and head back home."
Lieutenant Ichiya all but snatched the note from my hand and hustled her way out of the room. Considering her personal connection to Chihiro, I was unsurpised that she volunteered for the duty.
Hopefully she doesn't add a secondary message of her own. The thought was reflexive paranoia. Even if Ichiya was keeping Chihiro privately updated, it didn't particularly matter.
Not yet, at least.
Either way, the matter was settled for now. Putting the issue out of my mind, I turned back to Lieutenant Fumiaki with a polite smile. "So, what does Captain Yoshi have to say for himself? Is he enjoying the fresh salt air?"
"This time of year?" Lieutenant Fumiaki asked with a smile. "I know I sure would, Commander! Beats the Tokyo heat, hands down. But," he said, sobering back up, "it sounds like he's made some further progress since his last update. While he's not exactly been heavy on the details for obvious reasons, he wanted you to know that the 'fish are in the sea,' if that means anything."
Indeed it does, I thought, allowing a smile.
It means that Yoshi's made excellent progress indeed.
I had sent Yoshi and his squad of trained Kozuki Organization soldiers to Ibaraki accompanied by two squads of Rising Sun men for two reasons, three if I included Naoto's claim that seeking the blessings of the gods enshrined on the coast would bring us good fortune. The first reason was to set up a subsidiary Rising Sun branch in the prefecture north of Chiba and to recruit more soldiers for our cause among the fishing villages and harbor towns there. The second reason was to seek out and contact the smugglers operating out of those same coastal settlements.
The phrase 'fish are in the sea' meant that he'd finally come to an agreement with at least one smuggling crew that he felt was reliable enough to be good business partners. Based on his previous reports, the crew in question was probably connected with one of the numerous Triads who worked hand in glove with the Chinese government.
The Chinese represented a sea of opportunities matched only by the net of practically inevitable entanglements those opportunities came with. And like the sea, Chinese politics represented an almost entirely unseen depth of unknown dangers and cold secrets. To say I was hesitant about forming even tentative connections with the Chinese would be an understatement; for all that the remnants of the Republic of Japan's government had fled to the Chinese Federation and formed a government-in-exile, I was under no illusion that the Chinese would be any more kind to us than the Britannians.
On the other hand, if I'm already willing to go to bed with collaborators, why not foreign powers as well?
"That's good news indeed, Lieutenant," I said aloud, nodding at Lieutenant Fumiaki and fully aware of how Lieutenant Koichi was staring fixedly at my face, clearly trying to suss out whatever clues he could about the Ibaraki Operation. It was outside his brief and so he had no real need to know, but that he was curious nonetheless was obvious. "If there isn't anything else?"
"No, Commander." With that, Lieutenant Fumiaki dropped back down into his seat, pulling the remains of his lunch back towards him. A practical man, he clearly had no intention of letting anything in his bowl go to waste.
"Well, on that high note," I rose from my chair, painfully aware that I was the shortest person in the room as I stood at the head of the table and yet remained shorter than everybody else there except for Miss Tsuchiya, "thank you all for attending this meeting. I appreciate all of the hard work you put into your responsibilities, and I expect nothing less than that level of dedication moving forwards. You are all free to go, although I believe you had something we needed to discuss, Mister Asahara?"
Recognizing their cue to leave, the other four men and women said their goodbyes and made their way out of the private room on the second floor of the Rising Sun Headquarters. After Lieutenant Koichi - predictably the last to leave - closed the door behind himself, I turned back to the engineer again, waiting to hear whatever it was he had that required privacy.
"You'll be having a visitor soon," said Mister Asahara, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact, stripped of his usual condescension. "In fact," he continued as he checked his watch, "you can probably expect her to show up at the Yotsuya Gate in thirty minutes."
"Right," I said, scanning his face for any subtext that I had overlooked, any nonverbal hints. There was nothing but the usual scowl. "So, let's skip ahead a bit in this conversation and assume that we've done the usual polite conversational dance. I assume that the need for privacy is because you are announcing this guest not as a local engineering expert, but rather because you are the agent of Kyoto House placed closest to me?"
"I wouldn't know about that," he demurred, "but you are correct in the basics, Commander Hajime. Your business partners back in the Old Capital requested that I bring this to your personal attention, in large part because you will be held directly responsible for any misfortune your guest might come to."
Damn that pack of old geezers! Why would they send someone they didn't consider expendable to a place like Shinjuku? They might as well have sent their precious and uninvited guest into the heart of Niigata! In fact, I snarled to myself, keeping my face as stoically blank as I could manage,
sending some hapless old fool into Niigata might have been safer, now that the Purists have broken the spine of the popular uprising!
Wait… An uninvited guest… That could be my way out!
"I don't accept that responsibility," I said, speaking just as bluntly as Asahara had when he'd leveled Kyoto's latest threat. "I did not invite the Six Houses to send an emissary, nor did they send adequate warning for me to even consider guaranteeing security. Besides, we in Shinjuku have precious little, as you well know, Mister Asahara, far too little to provide hospitality to any visiting guest from Kyoto."
"Don't bother trying to convince me," came the unfortunately unsurprising response. "I'm just the messenger; I have absolutely no say in the Houses or their doings. I'm not asking you if you're willing to accept a guest. I'm
telling you that a guest is going to show up on your doorstep any minute now, and if anything happens to her, it'll be on your head."
At least he has the grace to not make any pretense of an apology, I thought with an internal grimace.
Still, I suppose this isn't much different than the worthless president of some company demanding a job for his worthless nephew. In fact, if any of Kyoto's ilk existed back in the Japan of my first life, I would bet anything that they made exactly that sort of demand on a regular basis.
"Fine," I sighed, giving in to the inevitable with bad grace. "So, I've got a guest. Who is he, what does he look like, and how long is he going to be around? Should I set aside a toothbrush for him as well, or was he able to find a place in his bags for his own?"
Suddenly, the image of a fat old man dressed in Britannian finery striding through Shinjuku popped into my mind, followed shortly by the likely reaction of the locals to the appearance of such a fool in their midst.
"Wait," I said, speaking up just in time to cut off Mister Asahara's reply, "please, please Hiyashi, tell me that this idiot guest of mine brought their own security. Tell me that they didn't just walk through the Settlement alone and unarmed, and are even now flashing a large amount of cash in front of the very buyable guards posted at the gate's checkpoint."
"I could tell you exactly that," said Mister Asahara, visibly amused, to my great annoyance, which clearly only amused him still more. "And indeed I will. Your guest has their own security, Commander, and the security will handle the gate negotiations. As for the rest, though?"
Asahara's lips quirked up into a smile under his salt-and-pepper mustache. "Send one of your fine lieutenants with an honor guard to the gate, Commander. You don't need any other answer from me; I don't know what your guest wants or how long they will be here, but I do know that there's absolutely no way your militia will mistake
her for anybody else."
An angry retort died stillborn on my tongue as I picked up on the subtle emphasis the engineer had placed on that last pronoun. "Her?"
---------
Tea had been procured from somewhere, and likewise a variety of cookies and sweets. The second-hand tea service now sat in pride of place in the center of the same table I'd conducted my recent meeting around, clean enough to shine despite the numerous chips missing from the pot and mis-matched saucers alike.
And now that those minor details had been handled, I had nothing else to distract myself from the nervous energy coursing through me.
Impatiently, I rose to my feet and paced another lap around the room for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, checking my watch as I circled back around behind my chair. Assuming nobody was running late, Lieutenant Koichi and his detachment of picked men from the Internal Affairs Force should be meeting the emissary from Kyoto on our side of the Yotsuya Gate at any minute.
My handheld radio remained stubbornly silent, though, as it had for the last ten minutes since Koichi had relayed the news that he'd taken up a waiting position a block away from the checkpoint.
Why am I wasting my time like this? More to the point, why am I letting myself get so worked up over this?
It was a reasonable question. In my first life, I'd gone into meetings with senior vice presidents and directors free from worry, confident in myself and my place. In my second life, the periodic encounters with the likes of General Zettour had been undeniably stressful, but that stress had stemmed from the awareness that they could order me to the Front or to a prison cell at any moment. While this new stranger from Kyoto undeniably had power over me, it couldn't match the same level of authority wielded by the Empire's generals.
And yet, while I am undeniably stressed, I am not afraid… I paused, another lap around the meeting room behind me, and pursued the thought deeper.
No, I don't fear this emissary from the fence riders in Kyoto. She can make any threat she likes, and in doing so will just undermine her position and that of her organization as reliable business partners. No, it isn't fear…
It was, I realized after a further moment of contemplation, anxiety. While that sensation was a close cousin to fear, it wasn't quite the same. I didn't fear angering my unasked-for guest. The prospect of miscarrying my first interaction with a member of the secret cabal's ranks, of appearing like some foolish, out-of-her-depth child in front of this potentate…
At the mere thought, I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms dry on my pants.
You are worrying about nothing, I scolded myself.
You are just engaged in pointless, self-sabotaging behavior. You have negotiated with the Six Houses before and achieved your goals.
…But that was back before Naoto left.
And that was the heart of the matter. Somewhere along the way, I had made an undeniable mistake, and that mistake had continued to tumble down on my head as I made blunder after blunder. The interaction with Councilor Nishizumi this morning would have been unthinkable, were Naoto here; not unthinkable that a politician would use his power to pursue petty grievances, but unthinkable because the noble's son would have soothed the man weeks ago with a disarming comment and some personal mediation between the Notable and Nagata.
In contrast, my own efforts had been crude, and while I had successfully punted the confrontation off for another week or so, I was under no illusion that I'd heard the last from Councilor Nishizumi. Making matters worse, that confrontation hadn't happened in a void. I had staggered forwards for the last six weeks, doing my best to hold things together and fully aware that the current state of affairs could only last for so long.
This wasn't supposed to be my job! The wail sounded pathetic, even inside my own head.
Naoto was supposed to be the political leader while Oghi handled the minutiae of internal affairs and administration!
Unfortunately, the triumvirate I had worked out with Naoto and Oghi had of late, for a number of reasons, begun to come apart at the seams.
While my conversations with Ohgi had been short and stilted of late, that had been a function of the radio we were speaking through. Despite the heavy buzz of the static and the constant "overs", the former teacher was always a joy to speak with, cordial and supportive and willing to listen as I complained about the Council or the other hundred headaches that came from running Shinjuku.
We had fallen into a bit of a routine of trying to find some item of good news we could exchange with the other during each of our conversations. He had been overjoyed to hear that I had reached out to Miss Tsuchiya and never failed to ask how the plans to re-establish the educational system in Shinjuku were progressing. In return, he had passed on the news of how he had prevailed upon Major Onoda to requisition a mortar and sufficient ammunition for training purposes at The School.
Despite this, there was only so much Oghi could really do to help me. He could advise me on particular matters, what benefits modifying some internal policy might secure or how to best satisfy some stubborn faction's demand, but he couldn't teach me his skills as a mediator and trusted voice. Not for lack of trying, but the radio and our busy schedules made such lessons impractical. Besides, he'd been away from Shinjuku for long enough that his grasp on the local politics and personalities had slipped.
With Naoto, the conversations had been equally stilted yet entirely free of the easy comfort I felt with Oghi. Naoto was cool and businesslike, his tone clearly audible even over the radio interference. Ohgi called me Tanya; Naoto referred to me as Commander Hajime. He didn't protest when I referred to him by name, but he never reciprocated.
The reason for the new reserve between us was the furthest thing from a mystery, even though we never addressed it directly. We never spoke about Kallen. She hung heavily in the conversational air between us, her presence glaring in its absence.
Kozuki Naoto, twelve years older than his baby sister, had always been Kallen's steadfast protector and had always done whatever he could to keep her from harm. I'd overridden him once before on that matter when I had sent Kallen into Shinjuku-gyoemmae Station. He had barely accepted that brief and one-sided engagement. It had only been in the face of my reason and Kallen's fervent passion that he had caved at all, and even then it had been the one time Naoto had ever threatened me.
And now, I had thrown Kallen into a prolonged deep cover project, seemingly on an impulse, without even consulting him. While I had explained my logic after the fact, once he and his mother Hitomi were well on their way to Gunma, the leader of the Kozuki Organization had acknowledged the logic of my choice over his phone, not bothering to conceal the icy anger he clearly felt. Hitomi had refused to speak with me.
Thankfully, Naoto was enough of a professional to remain in contact, updating me about the progress he had made in establishing hidden enclaves and refuges for the fleeing people of Shinjuku throughout Gunma, Tochigi, and Fukushima. He passed on word of the setbacks he experienced, of the villages discovered by patrolling Honorary Britannians, of the vanloads of refugees ambushed by bandits, of the difficulties of making farmers from ghettoized city dwellers. He accepted my condolences with cool politeness and my advice with demure disinterest.
I had passed on word of my troubles in Shinjuku to him as well, albeit just the bare facts of the matter, stripped of emotion. Naoto had been receptive to my worries, but it had felt like I was speaking to a mere coworker; his suggestions had been vague and half-hearted, his expressions of solidarity mere platitudes.
I worried that I had permanently damaged our relationship.
But it was still the right call to make, I told myself.
A chance to infiltrate an agent into a cadre of Knightmare pilots in training would have been difficult to pass up, but a chance to infiltrate an agent into a cadre of Knightmare pilots in training who were also being groomed for leadership was impossible to ignore. Once she returns to us, Kallen will be a precious resource of institutional knowledge and skills, stolen from the classrooms of the strongest military in the world!
And, a colder part of my mind, a segment shaped by cutthroat office politics and sharpened by the dispassionate calculus of the War College, remarked,
If all it cost to acquire that edge was a single personal relationship, then I secured a true bargain, cheap at that cost.
Even if the cost is Kallen's life or the lives of a hundred Kallens… It would still be cheap.
Even though the part of me that had stood watch on the Rhine and had calmly watched Arene burn knew that statement to be true, another part of my mind recoiled against it. It was the part of my mind that had reeled in numb horror when Manabu and Sumire had died, the same part that had mourned the slaves killed in the crossfire back at the club in Shinjuku. The same part of me that had admitted that the members of the Kozuki Cell were my friends in truth, not just useful tools.
Everything had been so simple, back then, I thought, ludicrously nostalgic for the time when I had been near starvation, where seemingly any problem could be resolved with my knife and adequate creativity.
Hard, yes, but simple. Fight against the gangs, make new connections, scrounge for food and money and weapons…
Besides, I reminded myself,
you knew getting Britannian-trained Japanese soldiers for the Cause would be a fraught business. Sacrifices would have to be made for such momentous gains, that much was never in doubt.
Admittedly, I conceded to myself,
I had expected to recruit from the members of the Honorary Britannian Legions, who would recognize their true loyalties and bring their training with them when they crossed the line. I hadn't anticipated ordering
anybody into Britannian service.
A knock at the door returned me to the present. "Commander," came Lieutenant Koichi's voice, "are you ready? Your guest is here."
"Yes," I replied, internally marveling at how steady my voice was, the anxiety of minutes before dropping away as if it had never been there at all. "Come in, please, Lieutenant. Don't keep our guest waiting."
One of the lieutenant's detachment was the first man through the door, his spotless sash incongruous over his battered and much mended gray t-shirt, a Britannian rifle slung over his shoulder. As he stepped into the meeting room, he turned on his heel with an almost military flair and took up a position by the wall, as smoothly as if he'd practiced that move for a week.
Which, considering how worryingly passionate Lieutenant Koichi is about his newly awarded rank and duties, he might very well have.
The next man through the door was what the Britannian-aping gangsters of the Eleven Lords and the
Kokuryu-kai had wanted to be. He wore a tailored suit with a matched tie and pocket square, both in a tasteful mahogany, and only his Japanese features and association with Kyoto House betrayed his Honorary Britannian status. A bulge under his jacket, flattered into near invisibility by clever adjustments to the suit, hinted at a concealed pistol. Following the Internal Affairs Force man, he took up a position by the wall on the opposite side of the door.
An impressive choice of guard, I thought appreciatively, noting the economy of motion and the way the man's eyes roamed over the room, searching for hidden threats and ways of ingress with a professional's detachment. I had briefly wondered if Kyoto was really treating this meeting with the gravity Mister Asahara had implied, but the obvious quality of the guard put such thoughts to rest.
Anybody they sent this man to watch over is clearly someone of value, someone who can make decisions or can speak directly with those who do.
And then a girl only a few years older than me all but
skipped through the door, utterly incongruous compared with the two men who had preceded her. I closed my eyes, but when I opened them, she was still there, neat as a pin in her tweed two-piece suit and smiling at me.
For a moment, I wondered if I'd suffered some sort of mental break.
Ah, I thought, my face cracking into a wry smile to answer the girl's own radiant expression,
so this is how it feels to be on the other end of the introductions. I've always wondered if it was really that shocking to see a young girl in a leadership role, and, now that I've seen it from the other side of the table, I suppose I have my answer.
Then, I remembered how it had felt to always be greeted with incredulity, astonishment, and all too often, a surprising degree of hostility. In my second life, it had been a continued source of private irritation to me, that no matter what I accomplished and no matter what respect my deeds might garner, so few of my fellow Imperial officers would take me seriously in face-to-face meetings.
Looking closer at the girl, apparently Kyoto's emissary since all I could see behind her were a second suited security man and Lieutenant Koichi, I could see signs of a similar concealed frustration. For all that the energy behind her smile seemed sincere, the expression itself was an unnatural thing, fixed and carefully practiced.
It's her chosen armor, I realized,
just like how my past insistence on Imperial professionalism was mine. Only, for all that my age and gender made me a vulnerable target, my undeniable power as a mage and War College credentials gave me tools to push back instead of just holding the line via personal presentation. That damnable Silver Wings Assault Badge helped too.
"Welcome to Shinjuku," I said, bowing over the table between me and the visitor in greeting. "On behalf of the Rising Sun, I sincerely hope that you had a safe and easy journey here."
"It is good to be here," came the reply, and for a moment, I was back in my first life, visiting the Old Capital in all of its ancient majesty. The Kyoto Dialect, slower than Standard Japanese, harkened back to a different time and a different Japan, just like the city itself did. I hadn't heard anyone use it in my time in Shinjuku, except perhaps for the call with the Kyoto bigwig.
It was a relic of a past world, a Japan from before the Republic, never mind the Conquest.
"Yes," she continued, and I realized that she had approached the table without my notice, resting her hands over the back of the nearest chair, "it is indeed good to be here. I have been eagerly awaiting the chance to meet you, Commander Hajime. Although, would you take offense if I called you Miss Tanya? At least," she giggled, "when it is only us girls talking."
The moment dragged on for just a bit too long, and I suddenly realized that it was my turn to speak.
Focus, dammit! You're fucking it up again!
"Excuse me, but," I coughed, gesturing at the three men lining the walls, and Lieutenant Koichi where he stood in front of the door to the room, "just us girls is a bit of a stretch, wouldn't you say? But, I'm not one to stand on ceremony. If you want to call me by name, I don't have any problem with that…?"
I trailed off, leaving the meaningful silence hanging, waiting for her to offer me a name. It would be a false name, almost certainly, as the Six Houses were secretive by necessity and by nature, and I doubted any of their higher-ranking members would give out such information freely, no matter how young they were. Still, I needed something to call this envoy, and I didn't want to accidentally cause offense by simply assigning her a name.
"Lady Sophie," the girl promptly replied in Britannian. Despite the fact that her pronunciation of the language was perfect, almost as if she were a native speaker of the tongue of our overlords, it still sounded like an abomination after the smooth tones of her
Kyoto-ben. "But," she continued in our language, "you can call me Kaguya, though! Or Lady Kaguya if you really must. The last name is not important."
"...Charmed," I said, gesturing for her to take a seat as my mind whirled. "Lady Kaguya, would you please join me for some light refreshments? I'm certain it won't live up to your standards, but some tea's always nice after a journey, no matter how safe and easy it was, yes?"
"Ooh, please!" Kaguya clapped her hands, her expression abruptly joyful as she slid into her seat. "Here's a real Six Houses secret, Miss Tanya," Kaguya, smiling slyly, said as her guards tensed. "I have a really huge sweet tooth! Whatcha got, huh?"
I blinked, trying to keep up with the sudden hairpin turns in Kaguya's presentation. First the shift from Kyoto Dialect straight to Britannian, and now her high diction was abruptly abandoned in favor of a speech pattern that wouldn't have sounded unnatural among the attendees of Miss Tsuchiya's classes, all refinement vanishing. As I pushed the tray of sweets over towards Kaguya, I noticed her guards relaxing now that her so-called "secret" had been revealed.
The fact that they tensed up at all over any such revelation is an interesting hint, I considered as Kaguya devoured a third of a cookie in a single ambitious bite.
Clearly, even though Kaguya is important, she isn't the only person these men report to. Equally clearly, someone else gave them orders to intercede if Kaguya crossed certain lines. Interesting indeed.
"So," I began, trying to take some level of control over the conversation back, "I have no wish to seem ungrateful for your company, Lady Kaguya, but I am very surprised by your presence here. Not that you are unwelcome here in any way," I quickly added, "but I am accustomed to dealing with your organization through intermediaries and interlocutors."
"These are some good sweets, Tanya," Kaguya replied, thankfully after swallowing her current bite. "I'll have to remember to send you some
yatsuhashi once I get back home in thanks!"
"I… would certainly appreciate it," I said, speaking slowly as I poured over her words, searching for a hidden meaning that I suspected wasn't there at all. "I haven't had
yatsuhashi in quite a long time."
Not since my first life, in fact, when someone gave me a box as a souvenir gift.
"Don't tell Lord Taizo or Lady Annabeth," Kaguya stage-whispered, leaning in over the table like some conspirator in a play, "but I don't really like them very much. I know they're traditional and all, but they're just not sweet enough to really scratch the itch, you know? Now, these," she hefted a store-bought chocolate chip cookie, taken from the supplies Inoue bought to distribute among the take-home boxes for families with children, "are really good! Do you have more?"
"...Yes," I replied, trying to match the two names to anybody I remembered from the news, or from Diethard's reports. Neither rang any bells. "I'm sure we can find some more for you to take home with you if you so choose."
"Yay!" Kaguya cheered, reaching for another cookie. "Seriously, Miss Tanya, you've got no idea! It's always 'look out for your weight, Kaguya,' or 'it's not ladylike to eat cookies, Kaguya' or something! You're a real lifesaver!"
"I am, of course, happy to be of service to the Six Houses," I replied politely, trying to figure out what the point of this baffling visit was. Certainly, it wasn't just to eat cookies. Surely someone of the young lady's status and wealth could go to a Britannian store and buy her own if she was so hungry for the damned things, instead of scarfing down the limited quantity we had expended scarce resources to purchase. "Perhaps if you explain more about what brings you to Shinjuku today, I could be of even greater service?"
"Ah…" And suddenly, Kaguya's eyes had turned unaccountably shifty. "Well, there were several items of business I needed to handle in the Tokyo Settlement, you see, and since I'd be in the area…"
"...You decided to drop by for a social visit?" I asked, finishing my visitor's explanation for her as it trailed off into silence.
"Absolutely!" And suddenly Kaguya was all smiles again, nodding in energetic affirmation for a moment before catching herself. "I mean," she said, starting again, "recently, there has been much discussion about the Rising Sun Benevolent Association and its sister organization. As I was in the Tokyo Settlement already, I felt I could improve my understanding of the situation with a private fact-finding trip of my own." And then, the smile was back. "Surely you don't mind, Miss Tanya!"
"Not at all," I replied, the smile tight against my face. "I am, of course, eager to assist the Six Houses in any way possible. After all, we both strive towards a common Cause, don't we?"
What a disappointment. It's highly unlikely that this Kaguya has any real responsibilities or input on Kyoto House's policy if she's got sufficient freedom and time to swan off to Shinjuku on a whim. Even a treacherous conspiracy apparently has deadweight members. Still, even though impressing or pleasing her will likely gain me nothing, angering her could still shift the Six House's general estimation of the Kozuki Organization unfavorably.
"In that case," I said, falling back on old memories from my first life about how to handle important pain-in-the-ass clients, "would you like a tour of Shinjuku? I can't say that we have a great deal worth seeing, and certainly nothing that could compare to your own lovely city, but if I can assist your fact-finding trip, I would be happy to guide you myself."
This time, all four of the men lining the walls shifted uneasily, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for their obvious distress. The last thing the Kyoto House personnel wanted was for their principal to just go strolling through the crowded streets of Shinjuku along an unsecured route; it was a security nightmare, especially considering the number of weapons and people accustomed to violence contained within the Ghetto's walls. For the Internal Affairs Force men, I was sure they were both concerned about my personal security and leery of allowing outsiders to poke and pry into our efforts to rebuild Shinjuku as a fortress.
I crushed that sympathetic impulse relentlessly.
Impressing Kaguya is of tantamount importance; the only thing more important is keeping her safe from harm. While keeping her in a locked room would be second only to kicking her out of the Ghetto as far as fulfilling the second condition goes, it would constitute a failure of the first condition. Both security teams will just have to suck it up and do their jobs despite the unreasonable demands.
"Well…" And the wheedling tone was predictably back. "I mean, I am sure it would be lovely to explore your city, but it's simply too hot for a fair maiden such as I to venture out at the moment… So why don't I just stay in here with you, Miss Tanya?"
Kaguya smiled like the sly child she was, clearly accustomed to wielding her childishness as a mace whenever it was convenient for her. I smiled back, for lack of anything else to do. It was galling how little control I had over this conversation. Yet, for all that Kaguya was obviously directing this dialogue towards some end, she was still acting cagily, her eyes flickering to the two suits standing by the wall.
Clearly, the girl from Kyoto wanted something and only the presence of her guards, perhaps more accurately described as her minders, and her own sense of propriety was stopping her from voicing her demands. Equally clearly, I would have to be the one to figure out what those demands were and meet them, were I to bring this meeting to anything like a satisfactory close.
"Well, that suits me," I said, giving conversational ground before her with a smile I hoped was graceful. "I'm not really a fan of going out into the heat of the day myself, not if I can avoid it. But," I eyed the sweets tray, all but stripped of its load, "I'm not sure what insight you'll be able to glean about the Benevolent Association or the area it administers from here, especially since I seem to be out of cookies to feed you."
She giggled at that, a disarming gesture that made me want to smile along with her.
This girl is an obvious politician, I thought from the reservoir of cool reserve behind my pasted-on smile.
I know that she's actively manipulating me towards some end, and yet I still feel the impulse to do whatever I can to make her smile. She must be some favored daughter or niece of one of the Houses, wanting for nothing and spoonfed politics and manipulation from childhood.
"Oh," Kaguya said, smiling fondly at me from across the table, "I think I can get plenty of insight into your organization from right here, Miss Tanya." She sipped her tea, smiling with a delight that was surely feigned, considering the fact that the tea was just the bagged stuff the Britannians used, instead of the loose leaves or
matcha a scion of the traditional Kyoto elite would prefer. "So, why don't you tell me about yourself, Miss Commander Hajime Tanya?"
She has, I realized,
something like the same charisma that Naoto has. Some benefit of an aristocratic background? But Naoto didn't have an aristocratic childhood, as he was a bastard officially unrecognized by his father, and he stayed in Japan with his mother. Maybe it's just the confidence that comes with knowing you are born into a powerful family, then? She doesn't have the same raw magnetism, but she's spent a long time honing what advantages she has.
"Well," I began, my eyes glued to Kaguya's features, hunting for any minuscule facial movements that might give me some insight into what, exactly, she was fishing for, "you already know my mother's family name, because I carry it as well. My mother was Hajime Aika, and she…"
I paused, remembering Kaguya's age.
She might have two years on me, but definitely not three.
"...She did as circumstances forced her to preserve both our lives," I continued. "I never knew my father, except that my mother claimed he was a Britannian sailor."
"Don't worry about censoring yourself, Miss Tanya," Kaguya butted in, and I realized that the flush of interest was mixed with well-hidden irritation. "I shouldn't really need to tell you, of all people, but being of a young age and of the 'fairer sex' doesn't mean that I can't handle ugly truths."
So, I thought, turning that little outburst over in my mind,
that's part of what she's looking for. She hates being treated as a child, despite her willingness to use her child status to her own advantage. But, "I shouldn't need to tell you," hmm? Interesting… If I'm correct, that might partially explain why she's here taking up my afternoon.
"Fine," I snapped, letting my control slip just a little bit for added verisimilitude. If she wanted to know 'me' and wanted an unvarnished 'true' version, I would be happy to cater to her desires. It wouldn't require any lying, just emphasizing a different part of my life's story than what I'd usually prioritize in introductions. "Let's start again, then."
"My mother, Hajime Aika, was a prostitute before and after the Conquest, selling herself to make ends meet and keep me fed and in school. My father was a worthless Britannian merchant sailor who hopefully died years ago. When the Britannians came, our lives went from bad to worse. I was forced out of school and we were both forced from our homes and into Shinjuku Ghetto before the walls around it were even completed."
Kaguya's attention was almost palpable, her eyes rapt and locked onto mine. For a moment, I almost let myself fall into the verdant green of her gaze. I noticed that tiny flecks of gold seemed to float on top of the green as if some mocking creator had set her superior social status and wealth into her very genes in cruel contrast to my own lowly, threadbare existence.
"My mother paid our rent with the only currency she had available," I continued, "and usually made enough for us to both eat a meal each day. It was barely enough to keep us alive, so I decided to join the workforce as best I could.
"By the age of seven, I was spending the bulk of my days on the work line, trading ten to twelve hours of hard labor for a bowl or two of thin soup and clean water. And even with those mean wages, I had to compete for those jobs with all of the other kids in Shinjuku. Of course, people being people, my hair and eyes guaranteed that I would only get work when no other alternative presented itself."
A pattern that holds true to today, I thought with an internal chuckle. It wasn't funny in the least, but it said something unpleasant about my people that it had taken all of my work and sacrifices for them to overlook my mixed heritage.
And even now, if they had an alternative, I am sure a fair number of the Sun Guard and most of the Notables would be all too happy to dispose of me and my services.
"Sometimes, some foreman, softhearted or softheaded, would give me an extra ration; sometimes, some kind adult on the line would share their meal with me. Mostly, I did my best to work hard enough to justify my presence there, next to the adults, hauling away rubble and garbage and, when winter came, corpses, all for disposal."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the Internal Affairs Force man's eyes go wide at that little revelation. My seasonal employment on a hauler crew wasn't something I mentioned very often; while the corpse disposal crews served a necessary and valuable role, transporting the dead from the streets and tenements of Shinjuku to the Ghetto's dump site near the Kawadacho Gate, nobody liked them for obvious reasons. Nobody wanted to think that their beloved would be buried in a landfill, unburned and disrespectfully interred with the garbage.
"I did what I had to do," I said, forcefully and entirely unapologetically. "Just like my mother did what she had to do to keep us both alive. And somehow, amazingly, we both managed to remain alive until I was eleven."
The familiar wave of pain hit just as I had anticipated, but I still managed to keep my face stoically blank. It was one thing to tell my story to amuse some flighty noble girl in search of a taste of authenticity; it was another thing to display my private pain for a stranger's titillation.
After she left, I would permit myself to feel. Until then, I was on the clock.
"I don't know who killed my mother," I admitted, the words cold and sour in my mouth. "She often worked in the brothels frequented by Britannian soldiers, and she was beaten to death in the street outside of one of those establishments. Perhaps it was a dissatisfied customer and his squaddies, perhaps it was just a pack of drunken thugs hunting opportunistically. It could even have been a local group of thugs, angry that she was sleeping with the enemy. I never bothered trying to find out; it didn't seem to matter. Done is done, and I doubt anybody involved in her murder remembered her face two days later."
How about that, I thought uncharitably, eyes fixed on Kaguya's.
Is that unvarnished enough for you? Enough of a glimpse at how the rest of us live to scratch your voyeuristic itch?
For her part, Kaguya gave no sign that I should stop, so I obligingly continued to talk. "After that, I was lucky enough to fall in with Kozuki Naoto and Kaname Ohgi. At first, Mister Kozuki wanted to find some other place for me to go, afraid that I would be caught up in their private war against Britannia, but I convinced him to reconsider."
"How?" I blinked at Kaguya's sudden interruption. "How did you manage to convince them to let you stay? How did you convince them to take you seriously?"
Ah, I thought,
so that's what you're after, is it, Lady Kaguya?
I felt like a fool for going into such depth about my childhood. Clearly, it had all rolled off the young mistress's back, the information irrelevant for her purposes. She wanted respect, and, seeing that I was held in high regard by my friends and associates, wanted to learn my "secret."
Fine. If that's what the lady wants, that's what she'll get.
"It was a difficult process," I admitted, leaning back in my chair and feigning relaxation. "My first step was convincing them to not just kick me back out onto the street, or worse, killing me as a suspected Britannian spy.
"Not," I raised a hand, cutting off the shocked interruption I could tell Kaguya was on the cusp of vocalizing, "that they would have. But I didn't know that; I was not in exactly a trusting frame of mind. Life is cheap in Shinjuku and who would mourn another orphan gone missing, or some wretched
hafu found the next morning by the haulers making their rounds? So, I had to convince them not to kill me."
I really have been in need of someone to talk to, I mused.
What with Kallen and Ohgi elsewhere and Naoto… currently disinterested in a heart-to-heart, it's been a while since I had the chance to speak to someone who wasn't a subordinate of mine in some way. That said, Lady Kaguya might be a potential ally, perhaps, but she's certainly not a friend. So, not too much frankness.
"They thought I was Britannian at first, and that was the first thing I needed to change. I am Japanese, just as much as anyone else in Shinjuku, and I would be damned if I was mistaken for a Brit. I said as much and swore loyalty to Japan. And in that moment… I knew it was true. It hadn't just been an act of chance that I ended up an orphan in a stranger's apartment. There had been a purpose after all, because I had come to fight for their Cause if they would have me." I smiled, nostalgia momentarily taking away the bitterness of dredging up old memories even as I obscured my motives in a fresh layer of deceit. I was, after all, still making a sales pitch; no need for her to learn what my true thoughts had been back then.
"Of course," I laughed with forced casualness, as if I were some old man spinning a yarn involving some anecdote from the misty past, "I immediately ruined my defiant pitch by breaking down and crying. In retrospect, even if either of them was the kind of man who was willing to kill a child, that definitely put an end to any thoughts along that line. Especially when Naoto hugged me."
Naoto… For a moment, I smelled the old leather of his jacket and felt his warm arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest as I wept.
Will you ever forgive me, Naoto? But, I did what I thought I had to do. I knew there would be a price, but…
"So, that's how I found my way to both a new home and more importantly, a new reason to live. Before, I had worked as hard as I could to keep myself alive and to lift as much of my mother's burden from her shoulders as I could. Now I had a new family, a family of rebels, fighting for the freedom of our people." I smiled self-deprecatingly as I spread my arms in a hopeless shrug, inspired by half-remembered TV broadcasts of politicians playing to the crowd. "What else could I do? I set myself to learning how I could help advance the Cause."
"But you were just eleven," Kaguya objected, her voice surprisingly soft, lacking any trace of the demanding noble. "How could they possibly have let you join their fight, especially if they were of the moral caliber you ascribe to them? How could you have possibly convinced them to let you join in earnest?"
I shrugged, "As I said, it was a difficult process. I think they decided to keep me on as a charity case, perhaps with some idea of treating me as a mascot or whatnot. That got me a foot in the door, so to speak."
"Or to put it differently," Kaguya said in a thoughtful tone, "you played upon their perception of you as a child in need of protection until they brought you in close to their confidences. But then what? How did you take the next step into becoming their leader?"
"Well," I replied, slightly uncomfortable at how Kaguya had characterized my actions, "to start with, that wasn't the next step. The next step was proving that I could haul my own weight, just like I had back when I was on the work crews. I had picked up enough survival skills while living in Shinjuku to prove I could hold my own, and at the first chance they gave me, I demonstrated those skills."
Not entirely true, but there's no need to bring up any inconvenient past lives or other unnecessary complications.
"And then," I leaned forwards in my chair towards Kaguya, "then I took the initiative. There was a gang that had been giving the Organization some… trouble. I saw an opportunity while out on reconnaissance, and turned a simple scouting into opportunity."
I smiled at the Kyoto House member, giving her just a small glimpse into how I had felt that night. "Some gang members were loading a vehicle with… items. I don't remember what it was now, weapons or drugs, something like that. I slipped into a blind spot and ambushed them while they were driving off. The first sign those poor bastards got that they'd picked up a passenger with their cargo was when I split them open like-"
And for a moment, leaning so far over the table that I was almost touching noses with Kaguya, I was back there in that truck cab. That hapless pair of gangsters had been my first kills in this life, and the smell of their bowels opening in death mixed with the blood soaking my arm to the shoulder had been a ticket back to the trenches west of Kaiserslautern. After years spent in toil, in keeping my head down and avoiding any attention, it had been such a return to form, a return to when I was strong and respected… It had been intoxicating.
Then, I was back in the present, noticing how both of Kaguya's security were on the brink of reaching for their concealed weapons, how Kaguya's eyes were wide and dilated with emotion, although to her credit she hadn't recoiled away from me.
"Well, in any case..." I coughed a bit awkwardly as I slowly sat back down in my chair, the tension in the room dissipating almost all the way back to where it had been moments before.
"Afterwards, we drove that truck to our own safehouse and claimed its cargo for our own. And then the others cleaned the mess out of the cab, as I was pretty much falling asleep on my feet. After that," I said, speaking in a deliberately nonchalant manner, as if I hadn't lost myself in remembered emotion for a moment, "I no longer had any worries about not being taken seriously. The key, Lady Kaguya, was proving my competency in an
undeniable manner. Of course," I added, "after that, I had to prove that I was something other than just a lunatic, someone capable of planning, capable of managing details beyond the simplicity of slaughtering our enemies. That took longer, but I had bought adequate breathing space to build that reputation."
"I understand." Kaguya's voice was even and seemingly entirely unruffled, despite my little act out. Reluctantly, my respect for her rose a degree. "You built a reputation as an individual who had useful skills and the necessary will and initiative to deploy them effectively. And from there, you have simply been following that road, I daresay? Proving your competence again and again, and in the process eroding any perception of yourself as a child?"
"As my mother taught me," I replied, "I am doing what I must to fulfill my goals. However, my goal is no longer just my personal survival; as long as the flag of Britannia flies over the Home Islands, that struggle is pointless - die now or die later. My goal is to see the sun rise over a free Japan once again. To that end, I will do as I must. If that means that I must take up arms to free my country despite the fact that I just turned twelve back in March?" I shrugged. "So be it."
"I see," Kaguya said, barely suppressing a sigh as she did so. Despite her attempt to cling to civility, her disappointment was clearly legible, her previous enthusiasm suddenly absent from her face. Clearly, she had hoped for something more, perhaps a step-by-step guide to securing her own influence and power. "Well, thank you for your story, Miss Tanya. I'd… I had heard so much about you, and I thought…"
"You thought that if a girl who was even younger than you could assert herself as a leader in her own right, you could emulate my path to likewise establish yourself as a player in your own organization?" I lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, already knowing myself to be correct before Kaguya nodded. "Lady Kaguya, if I might be so bold, what are you trying to accomplish? Why are you so eager to gain power? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are from one of the Six Families, aren't you? Surely your family will educate you and prepare you to become their agent as you mature."
Kaguya let out a very unladylike snort, openly incredulous and almost smiling at my apparent display of ignorance for a moment before sobering up.
"Miss Tanya," a ghost of Kaguya's amusement still hung in her voice, but her eyes were suddenly much older, host to a very adult cynicism, "I admire your optimism, although I suspect that it may be rooted in ignorance."
"Perhaps so," I allowed, trying not to take offense at the comment and failing. What could this
child know that I didn't after three lives? "Enlighten me, please."
"I'm a woman," Kaguya said as if that explained everything. Considering the expectant pause that followed, perhaps to her it did.
"So am I," I replied reasonably, "and so are almost a third of the Sun Guard at last count." My lips twitched at that, a humorless smile squirming across my face. "It seems like women have a better chance of surviving here in Shinjuku, what with the gangs recruiting more heavily from the young men and the Britannians preferring… well, let's call them less lethal corrective measures with Eleven women who cross them, instead of the simple bullet to the brain most men who cross them get."
"R-right," and it was Kaguya's turn to blink with momentary surprise, momentarily put off her point. "But, you don't understand, truly you don't. The people who I work with, the people who run the oth- the people who run the Six Families, they are traditional. They are the last survivors of the old noble lines from the Empire, our empire," she clarified, "the ones who became the not-so-secret masters of the Republic."
"Ah," I replied eloquently, finally understanding what Kaguya was saying. "So, I assume you're receiving a very full and in-depth education on the intricacies of tea ceremonies, flower arranging, and how to run your husband's affairs, once you acquire one?"
"Yes!" For a moment, Kaguya almost glowed with happiness, clearly overjoyed to finally meet someone who got her point. "Do you know how it feels, just being seen as an object, some investment just waiting to mature before it can be cashed in on? It's like they just see me as a bloodline and a womb on legs! My guardian and all the old men are in on it! I'm just as smart as any of them, and I'm not so stupidly tied up in all the old traditions and worries about profitability and all that rot!"
"Indeed, I do know what it's like to be seen as an object, a vessel transporting tainted blood." The biting words, dry as a desert, sprang unbidden from my lips. "I'm a
hafu, Lady Kaguya, with the bad luck to look as Britannian as one of the Emperor's spawn. Do you think that was lost on the fine people of Shinjuku? Or, for that matter, on the JLF's own Major Onoda, whom your agent put me in contact with, knowing full well that he both despises Britannians and holds women in contempt?"
By the time the second sentence had passed my lips, Kaguya's face had already gone ashen. She was clearly smart enough to realize how foolish and self-absorbed she sounded, complaining about being valued only for her heritage to someone whose heritage was so easily despised.
On the other hand, I
did know how it felt to be seen as lesser for reasons beyond my control. Further, I remembered from my first life how often traditionalists had harped on about how women should stay in their place, and that had been in a considerably more liberal Japan, one that hadn't been subjected by a foreign power governed by an absolute hereditary monarchy of all things. With that knowledge, it was difficult to hold Kaguya's hasty words against her and easy to let her off the hook. After all, she was still a child.
And a child in truth, not a cuckoo with the memories of two lives crammed into her head. Probably.
"But," I waved my hand in a conciliatory fashion between us, as if I were literally trying to clear the air, "I do understand, Lady Kaguya. You are clearly intelligent and driven; just marrying you off to secure some alliance or agreement would be a foolish waste of your potential by your family."
"So, will you help me?" Kaguya asked, her voice low and intense as she leaned forwards over the table, nearly upsetting her half-full teacup as she interrupted me yet again. "Think about it, Miss Tanya! I know that Old Man Munakata's been playing hardball with you, forcing concessions for every scrap of support he throws your way, even the kind of support we provide the JLF with for free! And I know you've got plans and ambitions - did you think we hadn't heard about your evacuation program? You need support for that, right? I can be that for you! Just help me!"
I leaned back slightly, letting my hands relax on my chest as I met Kaguya's wide-eyed stare.
So, I thought,
the old man on the phone's name is Munakata, is it? There's a Munakata on the Numbers Advisory Council, isn't there? A Lord To-something or another. And how did you know about that, Lady Kaguya? And don't think I didn't notice how you just slipped up and referenced "we". I doubt a mere daughter would say that, even the daughter of a family head.
"And how," I said, not breaking eye contact, "do you propose that I help you, Lady Kaguya? What leverage can I possibly call upon to help you? Not that I wouldn't help you if I could," I added, reading the thought on her face, "but what can I do that would assist you? I don't see how I could possibly influence the internal politics of the Six Houses."
"Oh?" Kaguya's eyes flashed with amusement as she settled back in her chair, once more in control of herself now that we were negotiating terms. "But you already have, Miss Tanya! You see," she scooted forwards again, probably to the edge of her seat, clearly excited, "by your actions, you've shaken everything up! Before you showed up, the JLF had settled into a rut, Prince Clovis was comfortable on his throne, and nothing was happening, but now…"
She held up a hand and started ticking off fingers. "You've managed to tilt the balance of power in the JLF strongly towards the more aggressive elements-"
"You mean Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe," I noted, taking the opportunity to get some of my own back by interrupting Kaguya for a change.
"That's right," she nodded in approval. "The lieutenant colonel managed to net all of the credit for setting Niigata on fire as well as the bulk of the recruits from that province, as well as the credit for securing a supply of Knightmare parts and support materials. He's been pointing out how it took the Britannians
ages to get control of Niigata again when they were just facing peasants with small arms! And that's just one of the icebergs you've thrown into the machine!"
"I think you're mixing your metaphors," I remarked, my dry humor covering my private considerations. I remembered Onoda's news that our actions had set Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe's star rising, but the man had clearly capitalized even further on his newfound reputation for action over the intervening months.
"Details!" Kaguya waved an impetuous hand before an enthusiastic grin broke through her huffy mask of noble disdain. "Anyway, remember how a bunch of Honorary Britannian-owned businesses got smashed up and shut down after that Christmas thing your guys touched off? A whole lot of them belonged to Old Man Munakata! It's kind of a double whammy for him since he's also one of the most traditionalist of the family heads, but he's the one who's supposedly responsible for supporting your organization, which is kinda radical compared to the stodgy old JLF central command! So now the traditionalist bloc in the Six Houses is weakened because Lord Tosei looks like he can't control his own project!"
That explains the seemingly personal animosity from my previous main contact with Kyoto House if that accidental riot we started destroyed some of the assets of his master. Maybe that's why I got saddled with Major Onoda. I smiled at the thought.
And then I actually got a working relationship established with the major, so instead of him killing me we both ended up benefiting against the personal inclinations of this Munakata Tosei.
"You've made your point," I replied, cutting in before Kaguya could drop another bombshell in my lap. As fascinating as this was, I needed to get to the meat of what Kaguya was asking for before her increasingly twitchy security detail hauled her out of the Rising Sun building by force. "But none of those actions were tailored towards influencing Kyoto House. That was just an apparently happy byproduct of fulfilling other objectives. Also, I should note that I am already stretching the Rising Sun's resources to the breaking point just to keep my people here in Shinjuku clothed and fed as it is, and that's not even mentioning how Britannia could attack us at any minute.
"So I repeat: what can I do to help you?"
"Work for me instead!" Kaguya's eyes gleamed with frenetic energy. "I promise I'll be a better partner than Old Man Munakata! I'll give you what you ask for without making you grovel and beg! Just do what I want, attack what I want you to attack, and keep stirring the pot! That way, I can claim the credit for your successes at meetings and stuff, Munakata looks even weaker because he can't keep his own house in order, and best of all, instead of waiting around forever for the perfect time to throw Britannia back out, we can finally reclaim our land from the invaders!"
It was only at that last sentence that I realized I had once again fallen for Kaguya's trap, seeing only what I had expected to see and, presumably, what she had wanted me to see. I had seen the power-hungry noble, eager to find her own authority. I had seen the girl who would become a woman, looking for a way to establish some autonomy. I had missed the zealot completely.
She really is just like Naoto, I observed, remembering how he had reacted to my magic, how he had all but declared a holy war when we had bombed the Station.
I can work with this. Moreover, if she's sincere in her willingness to actually provide what I want, when I want… I really can't refuse to work with her. With her support, feeding Shinjuku might actually become a reality. A winter without hunger, with adequate heat and medicine for the sick…
Still, I had to put up some token objection, if I didn't want to look like I was being railroaded in front of Lieutenant Koichi and his man. "You paint an appealing picture, Lady Kaguya," I replied politely, "but, correct me if I'm wrong, wouldn't that just make the Rising Sun your private army? I'm not entirely certain if I want to simply hand over our autonomy to you. After all, we fight for a free Japan, not for your advantage in your noble intrigues."
"You're missing the point, Miss Tanya," Kaguya replied, dismissing my objection. "I'm not a soldier or a fighter or whatever. I mean," she gestured at herself, "that's pretty obvious, right? I'm not going to be bossing you around, but if I can reasonably say that you're doing what I want, well, that's just as good for my goals as actually telling you what to do! Besides, unlike
some people in the Six Houses, I want what you want!
I remember Japan, Miss Tanya! Your goals are mine! Just back me up when I need your support, and I'll give you my support in exchange."
"...An alliance, then," I said aloud. "An alliance between the Rising Sun Benevolent Association and…?"
"An alliance between the Kozuki Organization and the House of Sumeragi," Kaguya replied firmly. "And between all of our associated groups, of course. Sumeragi Industries, Rising Sun, so on and so forth."
"I hesitate to ask, this late into our discussion, but…" Kaguya tilted her head inquisitively, waiting for the question. "But do you actually have the authority to make this agreement stand? Or am I going to need to confirm this with whoever the head of the Sumeragi family is?"
"Well," Kaguya replied, drawing noble arrogance up around her like a cloak, for all that her grin undermined any true haughtiness. "You are of course free to confirm my offer with the head of House Sumeragi. Her name is Sumeragi Kaguya!" She waited for a beat before adding "you can have her number if you like," with a winking smile, the mock arrogance vanishing like mist.
"You're the head of House Sumeragi?" I stared at the other girl, who grinned cheekily back. "You are one of the Six, the oligarchs who control Kyoto House? The ones who some say are the greatest batch of traitors in the history of Japan?"
"Yup!" Kaguya chirped back in reply. "Sumeragi Kaguya, also known as Lady Sophie to our Britannian friends. Pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure!"
I looked past Kaguya and locked eyes with Lieutenant Koichi. "Not a word of this leaves this room," I commanded. "Nobody is to know who she is. You both heard her," I met the other soldier's gaze before turning back to Koichi, "she's just some middle-ranking Kyoto House member's daughter, visiting here on a lark."
Lieutenant Koichi nodded, his eyes thoughtful in his mangled face. After a moment, he seemed to remember his military rank and saluted me, his subordinate quickly following suit.
"Lady Kaguya," I turned back to my guest, who was still smiling at me, "you have a deal. Help me and I will do my best to help you in exchange. Help me keep my people alive, and I will do what I can to expand your power and influence in Kyoto House." I extended my hand across the table.
Suddenly remembering how the previous Kyoto House potentate I had negotiated with had ended our conversation, I awkwardly added, "Long live Japan, and long live the Imperial Family. Revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians." It had borne ritual weight when I'd heard it, and I had taken it as a quirk of their organization, or of the social class their leadership stemmed from.
"Thanks!" Kaguya chirped, taking my hand and pumping it once, twice, and three times. "That's probably me! Anyway, pleasure doing business with you! We're gonna achieve great things together, Miss Tanya!"
---------
JULY 4, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
0700
"-eight cars loaded with barley, and finally, no fewer than ten cars loaded with 'special goods' with Kyoto and Tokyo Settlement Assessors stamps already paid for and applied."
The Sun Guard messenger flipped his notebook closed with a flourish, a broad smile on his face as he did so. He was clearly proud of delivering his report in good time, beating any other competing report of the new delivery to my door.
"Thank you, soldier," I replied, too drowsy to remember what the man's name was at the moment. In my defense, I had been asleep five minutes ago. I couldn't be expected to remember names before I'd had at least half a cup of coffee! "Your prompt report is appreciated. That will be all."
"Ma'am!" He fired off a truly sloppy salute and strode out of my office, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving me at my desk with my mug and the hand-delivered envelope that the conductor had passed to a Rising Sun member working as a janitor at the station when his train from Kyoto had arrived.
If someone from the Six Houses wanted to kill me, I doubt they'd use ricin or any such nonsense, I reasoned as I cut the envelope open, dumping the single sheet of paper out.
"Dear Commander," the letter read. "Hi there! I hope you like your surprise gift! Consider it my way of saying thank you for telling me your life story. It was super sad, but also really inspirational. I can see what N. saw in you, and what your people saw in you. Stick with me, and we'll go far. Let's be good friends! S.S."
"Sophie Sumeragi, I assume," I said to the empty room, wincing at how dry my voice sounded.
Maybe some water before I enjoy the first coffee of the day.
I looked down at the brief letter again. I was confident that the special packages that Kaguya had bribed both ends of the track into sealing without further inspection contained weapons, the weapons I would need to make the lives of any Britannians trying to force their way into Shinjuku utter hell. With those weapons and the huge shipment of food, medicine, clothes, cigarettes and other small luxuries, and toiletries I had just received the kind of material support I needed to strengthen my position in Shinjuku against the discontented Notables as well as the invaders.
And so the deal is fulfilled already… I stood up from the desk and walked over to the window of my office on the second floor of the Rising Sun's Headquarters, a few rooms down from the room I had met Kaguya in. The window squealed as I forced it open, but it rose nonetheless, letting the breeze still cool with the night into the room. The lighter flicked to life, and soon the letter was just ash.
I was in Kaguya's debt, and that was an uncomfortable place to be. I had no idea how ruthless she would be as a creditor or how soon she would expect a return on her investment.
And yet, no matter how ruthless she might be, Shinjuku will live for another few weeks. If that means putting myself into personal debt, then isn't that what it means to be a leader?
I wonder if Naoto would be proud of me?