Chapter 31: A Mounting Tension
Scopas
Versed in the lewd.
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Chapter 31: A Mounting Tension
(Thank you to Aminta Defender, Sunny, MetalDragon, Adronio, WrandmWaffles, Rakkis157, and Aemon for beta-reading and editing this chapter.)
JULY 11, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
0540
Outside of the old apartment building Ohgi had led me to so long ago, Shinjuku waited.
The lobby was empty save for the two Sun Guard militiamen standing guard by the entrance. The broken doors of old mailboxes yawned open from the wall. The street outside was uncharacteristically thick with loitering men and women. Any crowd in this otherwise quiet corner of Shinjuku was uncharacteristic in general, but I had ceased to be surprised. A crowd much like this one had greeted me along with the sun each morning for the last several days, ever since the news of Chihiro's identification and death had broken. Word of the two-day-long massacre and forced deportation had only swollen the anxiety-ridden ranks.
As I stepped past the guards and through the door, I felt the pressure of the crowd's undivided attention settle on my shoulders. Men and women, young and old, all stared silently at me. While the noise of a city rising for work seeped in from the surrounding streets, a brittle quiet reigned here, in front of the apartment building where Ohgi and Naoto had offered me a home so many months ago.
"Brothers and sisters…" My eyes swept over the attentive crowd, picking out familiar faces in the gray light of morning. There stood Takahiro, the never-ending font of youthful enthusiasm flanked on either side by his friends, Rin and Miyu. The trio of youngsters stood silent and still for once, their faces drawn. Two rows back stood Kaho, the long-suffering girlfriend of "Trainspotter", better known as Youji, who had joined me in ambushing a convoy of Knightmares, holding her toddler in her arms. Next to her stood a gray-faced Mrs. Maki, whose children Ohgi had once tutored.
So many tired faces, speaking of sleepless nights… Everybody knows what has befallen Yokohama could just as easily happen here, could happen to them… They have all come together to find solace, and so they have come to me once more. A crowd is made up of individuals, all drawn together as their individual wants and needs coincide into a greater goal. By pooling their strength and speaking as one, they advance on their shared objective.
In the wrong hands, a crowd can easily become a mob lashing out with unthinking violence. How fortunate that they are in my hands instead, and that it is up to me to set their objective.
"Brothers and sisters," I repeated, raising my hands up and outwards as the energy of the crowd's attention filled me, palms tilting towards the crowd as renewed certainty ran through me, before snapping them into fists and thrusting them skyward, ready to speak. "Good morning! Japan lives!"
"Banzai!" The cry went up from the throats of the multitude thronging the street, their fists joining mine in the sky. "Ten thousand years!"
"Yes," I called out, the cheers cutting off immediately as the crowd strained to hear me, "the Japanese people are still strong, still fierce, still proud. No matter what insults are heaped up on us, no matter the abuse, no matter the murder of families and friends and parents and children! Ten thousand years, brothers and sisters!
"Ten thousand years would not be enough to make us forget the pain! The loss! The cruelty inflicted on thousands for the crimes of one!"
An ugly murmur of agreement rose from the crowd, and I nodded firmly back, establishing solidarity with their loss.
I'd had a hand in causing it, after all. Unintentional or otherwise.
I should have murdered Chihiro myself while I had the opportunity.
"Brothers and sisters," I called out, sweeping my gaze across the crowd, "I will not deceive you; bad days are coming."
The silence was back, as was the intense sense of focus. Glimmering eyes stared out from gray faces, every line trembling with anger and pain.
"Yes, bad days are coming indeed. Things will get worse before they get better. But…" I smiled conspiratorially at the crowd, "you already knew that, didn't you?"
A wave of nods and a few chuckles rose in reply, and I gave them a moment to express some of the tension, allowing the momentary laughter to fade.
"Yes," I agreed with myself once the rapt silence returned, pitching my voice low, "you don't need me to tell you that hard times are coming. Hard times are always coming… Hungry times, trying times…"
I smiled back at the crowd again and took a step down from the lobby entrance, so I stood only a single step above street level. I knew that some of those in the back would have to crane over shoulders and heads to see me, but today I wanted to remind the Shinjuku crowd that I had risen from the same street as they had. I was one of them, not just an authoritarian voice from above.
Above all else, I had to be beloved by Shinjuku, by the hardscrabble men and women of the tenements and streets if not by its power brokers. In the hard days ahead, I would need that love. It would be the coin I would spend to buy their sacrifice.
"But," I continued, letting my gaze soften as I stretched out my hands towards the crowd, adults and children alike reaching back out towards me in a sea of mute pleas for reassurance, "I also know that you, the people of Shinjuku, know how to endure the unendurable without letting the Japan in our hearts die."
I sought out the eyes of individual members of the crowd, letting them read in me my bonafides, my own life of trauma, and saw their acknowledging nods. "I also know that you are busy people, practical people, who don't have time to stand and be lectured about what you already know, so I'll cut this short so we can all get to the Meeting Hall for breakfast."
A ragged laugh burst from the crowd at the mention of food, as well as scattered applause. I smiled, again letting the tension soften, before raising my hands once more towards the overcast skies, drawing all attention back to me.
"Hard times shall be upon us!" and now my voice was a clarion call, cutting through the hearts and minds of the people like a scythe. "But we will rise to the occasion, brothers and sisters! You are angry – keep that anger alive in your hearts, and know that your enemy thinks you weak and beaten! You are grief-stricken – take the time to grieve, to share memories of the dead with the living, so their names will live on!
"We might join the dead soon enough, but our names will live on and one day be spoken again by Japanese tongues under a Japanese sky! Until then, work hard and train harder! Our time will come soon, brothers and sisters, and I expect everybody to do their duty below the Rising Sun! For when that time comes, we shall rise up and return this injustice so harshly foisted upon us ten-thousand-fold!
"Once more and again! Long live Japan! Long live her people! Death to our enemies!"
"LONG LIVE JAPAN! LONG LIVE JAPAN! LONG LIVE JAPAN!"
The lingering ghosts of night shaken off at last, the crowd began to dissolve as its members ambled off towards the Meeting Hall for breakfast and work assignments. The noise level began to swell and rise as conversations broke out between chatting friends or chiding parents trying to herd children off to get food before their lessons. No trace of the earlier silence remained, save in a tiny pocket around me as a few stragglers hung back, clearly hoping for a private word.
I looked past them, out over the column of retreating backs, and found myself wondering how many more speeches I would give out under the open air before such gatherings became death sentences.
If the Britannians turn their gaze upon us in earnest and start using artillery to shell any large concentrations of Elevens, the time for speeches will already be over. But, I told myself, turning to look back at Yuyuko, my bodyguard for the day, that's a consideration for the future.
"Time?" I asked, mouthing the word at Yuyuko, who consulted her watch before slashing the air in front of her. Half an hour left, apparently.
Just… Just a moment then.
I nodded to Yuyuko, who stepped forwards flanked by the guards as I slipped back away through the door, retreating into the lobby. "The Commander is taking a quick break! If you have questions or concerns, please form an orderly queue here! We will-"
The door swung shut behind me, cutting off the sounds of the street. Knowing that I was still visible from the outside through the broad windows by what had once been a receptionist's desk, I kept my back straight and my pace unhurried as I turned the corner and stepped into the first floor apartment my bodyguards had appropriated for their guardroom.
Safely out of sight, I closed my eyes and tried to feel my fingers. They were completely numb, as if I had left my hands in an icy stream for an hour. Similarly, the only thing I could feel below my knees was the dim awareness of the pressure exerted by my own body weight.
Just what would Ohgi say if he could see you now? I scolded myself as I picked my way over to a chair, practically collapsing down onto the uncushioned wood. Bad enough that you forgot dinner last night, worse still that you only managed three hours of sleep, but keeping your enhancements running practically all day yesterday only to spin them back up on first waking?
Well, that particular bill was coming due. My enhancement suite, a polite term for a collection of stripped down Imperial spells bashed together, gave me the physical and mental edge I had required for survival as a child laborer. The enhanced reflexes and improved mental processing my magic provided me had likewise made me a force to reckon with during the hit and run raids I had conducted in the mountains of Nagano and the tenements of Shinjuku.
Not without cost, though.
A wave of disorienting fatigue slammed over me as the weight of sleepless nights tried to drag me down. Eyes slamming shut, I clenched my teeth as pins and needles exploded down my arms and throughout my legs, the sudden sensation almost agonizing after hours spent numbed on magical analgesics. My back hurt, my eyes burned, and I was so, so hungry.
Blinded as my eyes dilated open, unable to handle even the minimal light of the ersatz guardroom, I grabbed the wooden lip of the chair with both hands and squeezed down, trying to anchor myself in a swirling audio-visual mess of stimulation.
The deferred emotional reactions were the worst part of spinning down, though. When I was enhanced, everything seemed so clear and easy to understand. Plans appeared almost fully formed before me, the correct and rational decision always ready at hand. Now, all the stray thoughts and tangents rampaged over my tired synapses as the highs and the lows previously smoothed out into minor dips or hills expanded into fissures and peaks.
Somewhere, a door opened. I heard footsteps approaching me, but couldn't find the will or the capacity to react. Exhausted and unenhanced, I was all but sapless, incapable in my weakness.
"Good morning, Commander." I couldn't see her through my watering eyes, but I knew that somewhere in the room, Tanaka Chika stood. "You don't have time for breakfast, I think, but I brought you an apple." She paused, evaluating my state. "I'll cut it up for you."
My exhaustion was so great that I could barely muster any concern at the thought of being helpless and alone in a room with Chihiro's little sister even as she pulled out a knife.
Or, I mused as the sounds of chopping began somewhere off to my left, you simply know that Chika is nothing like her big sister. You have nothing to worry about.
If I could, I would have laughed scornfully at that second assertion. I had no end of things to worry about. But, I would freely concede that Tanaka Chika, Inoue's devoted assistant, was nothing like the bloody-handed butcher who had condemned some thirty thousand of our countrymen to death for absolutely no gain.
Thirty Britannians… Thirty four Honorary Britannians… and consequentially, thirty thousand of our own… Chihiro, you damned fool… And I'm equally the fool for letting you off your leash. I would have killed those Britannians myself, given the chance, and already my operations have led to the deaths of far more of the invaders than your paltry trick, but every risk I took was calculated towards the accomplishment of an objective, no matter how shrouded my reason! But subtlety was never acceptable to you, was it?
Thankfully, Chika had not been in the room when the news of the official Britannian proscription against Yokohama Ghetto arrived four days ago. She had been off running some errand for Inoue, a coincidence I had regarded as a great mercy as Junji read the latest dispatch from Yokohama aloud to Inoue and I.
Less mercifully, Chika had been in the room when the news of Chihiro's unmasking had arrived two days before that, slipped quietly in front of me by a wincing Junji as Inoue and I discussed the latest district allocations with the Leadership Commission. Chika, serving as our stenographer, had dutifully noted the moment when I called for a quick break in the official minutes.
"I understand," had been the twelve year old's only response when I took her aside to explain that her elder sister had been discovered on her mission, her voice solemn and her eyes knowing. "She won't be coming back."
It hadn't been phrased as a question, and the girl – although she was my age, almost to the month – had only nodded politely as I explained that Chihiro might escape and survive to return home yet. Perhaps after losing her parents and who knew how many friends to the Britannians, Tanaka Chika had grown understandably fatalistic. Perhaps she had been savvy enough to realize that I would kill Chihiro if she ever showed back up in Shinjuku again after abandoning her mission in favor of an independent month-long killing spree. Perhaps Chika had put herself in the shoes of a fellow orphan and found something in me that she understood.
When the news of Chihiro's death had arrived as we all knew it would, Chika had shown little further reaction to the news of her big sister's fate. She had only asked Inoue to be excused for an early lunch before quietly slipping away to some private corner. Crowded as Shinjuku was, the skyscraper's weeping shells afforded plenty of hiding places for a skinny child. Thirty minutes later, Chika had returned red-eyed but ready to take notes for Inoue's afternoon meeting with Miss Tsuchiya.
And now she haunts my steps like a little ghost, I thought, blinking as she appeared with her typical unobtrusive sidle, the opposite of her sister's furious stride, in my slowly recovering peripheral vision, a dish of apple slices at the ready. Always there to feed me at the appointed times, or to pass messages on from Inoue…
It's just a bit unnerving.
It was strange to admit that the last Tanaka made me feel that way. I had never felt so much as a hint of disquiet around the survivors of the others I had lost under my command; some had raged, some had wept, and some had shown an understandable if undignified interest in what benefits they could still expect in the wake of their loved one's sacrifice. Mister Tokihaku, Sumire's widower, stood out in my mind as an example of dignified grief.
But in the cases of all the others who have died executing my orders, the personal dimension was not the same as it is for Chihiro. I trained with Sumire and Manabu and knew their stories, but when they died, they did so as soldiers under orders. For Chihiro… She was a personal enemy of mine and I sent her away to further my own agenda.
But Chika had proven herself reliable. More than that, she had proven herself trustworthy, enough that Inoue had put her in charge of making sure I ate. In quiet moments like this, the quiet girl, eyes huge and dark behind her spectacles, would appear with a small snack or a steaming glass of tea. At scheduled mealtimes, she would guide me with sheepdog tenacity down to the Meeting House's communal kitchen, refusing to leave me be until I had taken on a bowl of porridge at the very least.
A part of me noted that true betrayal could only come from trust.
"Thank you, Chika," I managed, realizing as I felt the grit on my teeth that I hadn't brushed in at least two days. I reached for an apple slice, as much for something to mask the horrible taste of my teeth as for the energy its sugars could provide me. "Just… give me a moment."
"Take your time, Commander," Chika replied in her dull, passionless voice, the antithesis of Chihiro's fire and bile. "Guard Yuyuko is running interference. There is no need to rush yourself."
"Time is too valuable to waste," I muttered rebelliously, but allowed myself to slump back into the chair. I ate another apple slice. Somehow the fruit only made my hunger more difficult to ignore. "Breakfast is at seven, right?"
"It can be earlier, Commander," said Chika, before pointing out that, "you were the one who set your schedule. All I do is keep you to your commitments."
"True," I chuckled, my voice rasping unpleasantly. "True, true… Thank you for your help, Chika…"
I paused, wondering what more I could say. What should you say to a child after you sent their only living family off to die? After you had fervently hoped for their sibling's death?
"I will get you some water too, Commander." Thankfully, Chika filled the echoing silence for me, taking the need to find something appropriate to say out of my hands.
She really is quite good at helping me with my commitments after all.
The bleak humor of the thought wrung a tired laugh out of me, prompting Chika to raise a quizzical eyebrow.
"It's nothing," I waved her down, "nothing…" I sighed. It seemed so patently unfair that the day had only just begun and I already felt so, so tired. "Well… No need to keep them waiting any longer, I suppose."
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and I reached down into myself, down to where the magic went. The formulas flickered through my mind, their equations as familiar as well worn boots.
Where had my exhaustion gone? Where was the fatigue that had felt so crushing, all of the emotional surges that wracked me like a ship caught far out from shore? As my eyelids flicked back up, the world shone.
Destroyed, and remade anew.
Chika stood before me, somber as she watched me hop to my feet, momentarily ecstatic as new life surged through my veins. I smiled at her. "Thank you, Chika. I'll be by for breakfast soon. Make sure the kitchen sets a bowl aside for me, please."
With a jerked nod, Chika turned on her heel and vanished, ghosting out of the room, leaving only glimmering apple seeds behind as evidence of her passing.
Fully spun back up, I stepped past the trio of Sun Guards in front of the apartment building and down into the street itself, down on equal ground with the queue. I smiled at the first of my waiting constituents and dipped into a polite greeting bow. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
Each of the four subsequent conversations followed a similar path; a polite greeting paired with a compliment about my impromptu speech, vague statements about how wonderful Shinjuku was looking these days, and finally some mention of the particular issue or complaint that was the speaker's supposed reason for lingering behind. Those complaints were, to a one, incredibly trite and minor, almost irrelevant.
They were also not the reason for the conversations. No, that particular truth was layered throughout all the rest, through the meandering anecdotes and forced laughter. It was the quiet, desperate need for some reassurance that things weren't really as bad as they looked, that I as the closest thing to an authority figure left in Shinjuku had some plan up my sleeve to keep Yokohama's fate from finding a home in the Tokyo Settlement's ghetto.
I was careful to make no promises.
As the last person waiting to speak with me stepped forwards, Yuyuko tensed beside me. I heard the two door guards approaching as well, leaving their posts to back up my bodyguard. I could almost see their hands drifting towards their pistols, ready for trouble.
Masatsugu had clearly gone out of his way to warn the rest of the IAF about Councilor Nishizumi Tsutsumi.
I turned and gestured for the guards to return to their posts, and glared at Yuyuko until she took a reluctant step back, before turning to bow a greeting to the Councilor for Central Kamiochiai. "Councilor Nishizumi. What can I do for you, the Council of Notables, or possibly Kamiochiai this morning?"
"Commander," the one-time 'legitimate businessman' rumbled in return. "It's good to see you again."
As our previous meeting had concluded with mutually unsubtle jabs, the manifest dishonesty almost brought a smile to my lips. After dealing with the upheaval left in the wake of the almost stupefying act of mass slaughter so recently perpetrated by the Britannians, it was almost refreshing to return to the usual sleaze of politics.
But, even the Notable seemed shaken by recent events. Unlike our previous encounter a mere two weeks ago, Councilor Nishizumi had come to my door alone and unarmed; three concessions in one act. In the language of power politics, a tongue in which we were both fluent, he was unquestionably assuming an almost submissive role, arriving as a supplicant rather than a rival. That he had waited until the prospective audience of the early morning crowd had dissipated before approaching me furthered that impression.
Today, apparently, was not for showboating.
"And you as well," I replied, allowing my voice to soften as I threw the man a bone. If he wanted to deal in good faith, I would happily oblige. "I've got a meeting in ten minutes, so let's make this quick. What can I do for you today?"
"Busy morning, eh?" Nishizumi's smile didn't touch the worry dismayingly easy to find in his eyes. "That's fine. I won't take much time. It's…" He coughed awkwardly into his hand, shifting side to side. "It's just that… Lately, things have… changed."
"Mhm," I hummed noncommittally, simmering as I nodded, allowing the Notable to continue to struggle to find his words. "And of course, the Council of Notables would like some reassurances, I am sure."
If this is the council's attempt to come running to me begging for handouts, or worse yet, demands, after the Britannians just finished murdering a town's worth of our people, I think I just might enjoy "re-educating" them on the nature of our relationship.
"Not today," Councilor Nishizumi denied, shaking his head. "Look… Commander… I know that there's a bit of bad blood between us – hell, between you and the whole Council! – but, well…"
"But things have changed," I supplied, beginning to see what he was getting at.
"But things have changed," the old sailor agreed. "And none of us in the Council is stupid enough to think that the Britannians give a good goddamn about us, any more than they do about anybody else in any ghetto in the Area. An Eleven is an Eleven is an Eleven."
"That's always been the way of things," I pointed out. "We've both lived in Shinjuku for years, Councilor Nishizumi, so please, be blunt. What's changed specifically?"
"Blunt, eh?" Councilor Nishizumi paused, as if weighing up his words, before proving true to his nature and bull rushing ahead. "Fine. Once you and Kozuki and Kaname flattened all the gangs and started rebuilding Shinjuku, and once you proved you weren't just gonna be another bigger gang, we got… Eh…"
He sagged, suddenly, as if the shame and exhaustion was physically pressing down on his shoulders.
"Well, ain't no two ways about it, we got cocky. It was like the Republic was back for a bit, you know? We kinda got drunk on the feeling. Thinking the good times were back, that we had power again, that we were in control again. Then, well…" he grimaced, shaking his head, "we've sobered up now. Thirty-k dead…it's a helluva smack in the face for us. One we sorely needed."
"Sobering indeed," I agreed. "Not to mention the deportations. Junji's still trying to attach some hard figures to those."
"Right, right…" He ran a distracted hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Right… Well, the Council wants you to know that all the normal business is on hold for now. We're behind you now, all the way. You don't have to worry about us. Understand?"
You weren't behind me before? I almost said before pausing and biting back my initial incredulous response. No, think, don't react. Why this little announcement? On face value, it makes sense – if the Britannians could kill us all, cooperation is the logical response. But why wouldn't he announce that in front of the crowd? A show of unity in the face of the enemy would have been a good PR move…
Ah, I realized, finally putting the pieces together. The show of humility, the worry in his eyes, the emphasis on personal matters being put aside… What would Nishizumi, a former gang boss, expect from a rival whose power base had suddenly grown and firmed?
He would anticipate a revenge attack, the settling of old slights. He saw how the crowd responded to me, and was worried that I would take the opportunity to sweep the board clear of rivals. Caught between the Britannians on one side and myself on the other, knowing full well that the Britannians would just see an uppity Eleven, he came to submit before I forced the issue.
Of course, that submission will only last for as long as his terror of the Britannians outweighs his disdain for my leadership. But right now… as he said, things have changed.
"You don't have to worry, Councilor," I said, inclining my head to catch and hold his eyes. "After all, should the Britannians come here in force, death would be among the least of our concerns if we fail. You have my word that I will do whatever is necessary to keep us from sharing that fate, just so long as I have your full cooperation."
I paused for effect before rhetorically asking, "Do we have an understanding?"
Councilor Nishizumi sighed, bone deep weariness worn on his sleeve, yet so too could I see the edge of a smile on his lips.
"Heh, that we do, Commander," he said with a bitter chuckle. "Long live Japan."
An hour and a pair of brief stops later, I walked into the conference room I had claimed for my own on the second floor of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association's Headquarters, a bowl of porridge in hand and just in time for Lieutenant Ichiya's board of inquiry.
Not that Lieutenant Ichiya had been informed that this morning's meeting was slated to be her board of inquiry, of course, nor that she had even been under investigation. As far as she knew, she was simply coming to the Rising Sun's headquarters to deliver her regular weekly report.
It was easier for all this way.
I am sure she would be surprised to learn that her successor has already received word of her sudden promotion as well. Or, perhaps not… the reward should be commensurate with the services rendered, after all.
The habitually nervous lieutenant was seated on the far side of the conference room table, a Sun Guard with a navy-blue Internal Affairs sash quietly lurking behind her. On my side of the table, Inoue and Lieutenant Koichi waited patiently, separated by an empty chair. Inoue had predictably taken the opportunity to catch up on her paperwork and only looked up from the stack of manifests at her side to nod and smile a greeting before signing off some hand receipt. Equally predictably, Koichi was engaged in some whispered side conversation with one of his men, who hastily stepped back as I approached.
"Inoue, Lieutenant Koichi," I nodded a greeting, before turning to include "Lieutenant Ichiya. Shall we just get things started?"
Inoue muttered something approving as she pushed her wad of papers away into a satchel, clearing the space in front of her for a notepad. Koichi merely nodded.
"Alright." I turned and looked at the Sun Guard sitting unobtrusively at the end of the table, a notebook of his own ready to take the official record. He nodded, ready to execute his duty.
After years of fearing being the subject of a military tribunal… How ironic is it that when I finally experience one, it is from the other side of the bench?
"Alright," I repeated, shaking the stray thought away. "I, Hajime Tanya, Commander of the Kozuki Organization and acting board member of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association, call this board of inquiry to order. In attendance are Lieutenant Inoue Naomi, board member of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association, and Lieutenant Koichi, representing the Internal Affairs Force, as well as the accused, Lieutenant Ichiya, commander of the 14th Sun Guard Company, also known as the Naka Free Rangers."
The room was silent except for the scratching of the stenographer's pen as I turned to Ichiya. "Lieutenant, you stand accused before this board of inquiry of willful participation in unsanctioned actions, of communicating with members on deployment in contravention of standing orders, of disobedience of the same, of conspiring against the Kozuki Organization and its leadership, of concealing evidence of the same conspiracy, and of providing material support to an outlaw.
"Lieutenant Ichiya, do you understand the charges against you?" I paused, and when no response was immediately forthcoming, repeated "Do you understand the charges against you, or do you require an explanation before submitting your plea?"
"I…" Ichiya shook her head slowly, disbelievingly at first but with mounting concern as she looked from unsmiling face to unsmiling face. "No, I don't understand… I don't understand any of them. I don't remember seeing anything about any of them written down anywhere…!"
"In order," I replied, speaking over her rising panic, "willful participation in unsanctioned actions describes voluntarily aiding an attack or raid not approved by the Triad, or by the Leadership Commission in their stead.
"Communication with members on deployment is forbidden according to standing orders, on the grounds that unregulated communication could reveal operational details to the enemy. Disobedience is self-explanatory.
"Conspiracy against the Kozuki Organization indicates voluntary participation in the planning of acts contrary to the interest of the Organization, while conspiracy against the leadership is the same only against the well-being of the leadership. Concealing evidence is again, self-explanatory, while providing material support means that you assisted a noted enemy of the people of Shinjuku."
The stenographer bent over his pad, pen scribbling industriously. Next to me, Inoue was doodling in the margin of her otherwise empty page. Koichi looked just as cadaverous as always, except for the small motions of his head as he looked from me to Ichiya and back, faint interest gleaming in his eyes.
"Now that the charges have been explained to you," I continued, "how do you plead?"
"Not…" Ichiya swallowed, fighting for some shred of professionalism, her eyes darting and nervous. "Not guilty…? Yes, not guilty!"
"Very well." I turned to the stenographer, who looked up briefly from his page. "Let it be known that the defendant has pled not guilty to all charges."
"Noted," the man nodded, his hand twitching back into motion.
"Examination will now begin." I turned to Koichi, split-faced and expressionless but for an unsavory sparkle in his eyes. "Lieutenant Koichi, would you do the honors?"
"Certainly, Commander Hajime," the scarred man replied, unfolding himself from his chair to stand as I regained my seat and took the opportunity to shovel rapidly cooling porridge into my mouth. "Lieutenant Ichiya, you remained in contact with the former lieutenant Tanaka Chihiro after her departure from Shinjuku Ghetto, did you not?"
"Well, yeah?" Ichiya's reply quirked up into a question, with just the slightest patina of fear coloring the inquiry. "Why wouldn't I? She's… she was my friend as well as the one who'd been in charge before I took over after she got sent out. Why wouldn't I have stayed in contact?"
"Strike her question from the record," I told the stenographer, looking up from my breakfast. "The defendant does not have the right to ask questions, save when the board of inquiry specifically grants her said permission."
"Noted."
"So," Koichi pressed on, one corner of my most enthusiastic lieutenant's mutilated mouth flicking up into a joyless smile, "you admit to both unapproved communication and disobedience at the same time, as you fully admit to knowing that Tanaka was sent away on the Triad's authority. Very convenient; thank you for keeping this short. Now, let's discuss the content of your communications with Chihiro, shall we? They were carried out via your cell phone, correct?"
"Y-yes." Ichiya looked increasingly pale, the last remnants of her confusion deepening into fear. While the specific point of this exercise might still be lost on her, she had clearly grasped the gravity of her situation. Inoue looked up from the pad, met her eyes, and dispassionately returned to her doodling.
"We are told," Koichi revealed with just a touch of the theatrical, "that on the night of her departure, Chihiro publicly cursed Commander Hajime in particular and the Rising Sun Benevolent Association in general. We are told that she made several threats, both general and specific, against both. Despite this, and despite repeating those curses and threats as well as expanding to a few new ones, you continued to communicate with Chihiro and kept her up to date on affairs in Shinjuku independent of the designated official radio channel. Is this correct?"
"L-look," Ichiya began, licking dry lips, "I don't know who told you all of this, but… Yeah, Chihiro talked a lot of shit! We all know that, right?"
The room remained silent as Ichiya scanned desperately for support.
"Well, she did! But… she drank a lot, right? And she was my boss. Besides, it's not like she was going to do anything against us! Why would I betray her confidence by passing on random shit-talk like that?" Ichiya once again got no response. "Look, can I just know who you heard all this from? They might be lying!"
"No," Koichi replied, utterly unperturbed, "you may not. Note," he turned to the stenographer, who looked up again, "that Lieutenant Ichiya has admitted to conspiracy against the leadership and concealing evidence of that conspiracy on behalf of Tanaka Chihiro."
"Noted."
"Now," Koichi said, his tone never rising from its quiet interest, "we have established that you understood that Tanaka Chihiro had been sent to Yokohama, where she made pointed threats against the leadership in general, particularly Commander Hajime on the basis of her heritage, and on the basis of her involvement in humanitarian relief efforts for Honorary Britannians in the Tokyo Settlement.
"You remained in communication with her after the killings of Honorary Britannians in the Yokohama region had begun, did you not, and continued to pass along intelligence about the mood in Shinjuku?"
"Yes, but-"
"And when your messenger, a certain Iwamoto Miyako, returned from Yokohama in the company of Ogasawara Sui on July the eighth," Koichi purred, now clearly fully engaged with his role, "what did you do? Why did you refrain from informing the Leadership Commission of this development?"
"Well…" Ichiya trailed off for a moment, before rallying. "Look, I had a duty to my command, to the Rangers! We look out for ourselves because we can't trust anybody else to have our backs! I had a duty to discharge, and so I did! Once everything was safely handled, I noted their presence in my daily report on the ninth! I did bring it to the Commission's attention!"
"Your report on the ninth was late," Inoue interjected, "so late that it only crossed my desk the next morning. Your note was a single sentence appended to the end of a paragraph concerned with an unrelated manner. As you are generally a competent officer, Lieutenant, this seems less like a mistake in report structure than a case of deliberate obfuscation."
"Take a note," Koichi said, turning to the stenographer again, "that the defendant has admitted to harboring an outlaw, one Ogasawara Sui, who was declared an outlaw due to her culpability in the so-called Yokohama Sniper Attacks, an unauthorized spree of attacks on Britannian and Honorary Britannian civilians. As the reprisal of these attacks was the mass slaughter of thirty thousand Japanese in Yokohama, the defendant has also admitted her guilt on the matters of participation in unsanctioned attacks and of conspiring against the Kozuki Organization as well."
"Well," I said, reclaiming the whip hand of the proceedings as I pushed the empty bowl away and looked up at Koichi, who graciously returned to his seat so I wouldn't have to crane my head up, "that accounts for all the charges, I think. Stenographer?"
"Yes." The Sun Guard rose from his chair. "On the charge of willful participation in unsanctioned actions, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of communicating with members on deployment in contravention of standing orders, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of disobedience of standing orders, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of…"
As the stenographer droned on down through the list, Koichi nodding gravely along, Inoue leaned over to whisper in my ear. "So… We haven't done any of these before, but since this is your show, I take it that you've already got a sentence in mind?"
My show indeed…
Show was absolutely the correct term for this so-called "board of inquiry". Ever since Ichiya's messenger, Umeda Kimi, had quietly made a surreptitious second stop at the Rising Sun's headquarters after reporting in at Naka Street three days ago, the day after the news of the slaughter in Yokohama broke, I'd had the show's conclusion firmly in mind. All that had remained was setting up this pantomime of a legal proceeding.
I will not allow a second Chihiro on my watch. This disobedience ends now. If I am to wage a war against Britannia, all internal threats must be excised before they can metastasize. And if I am to save the rest of Chihiro's command, their leader and Chihiro's closest surviving collaborator must be dealt with.
After all, Sui was both already dead and far too lowly to serve as a sufficient object lesson. Leadership as well as followers would be held accountable.
The quiet basement corner Naoto had ordered be walled-off back during his private war with the gangs had been my first stop after arriving at the Rising Sun's headquarters. There, under the silent guard of two women in Internal Affairs' sashes, Sui had been waiting for me.
To her credit, Sui had neither begged my forgiveness nor pleaded for her life. I had frankly anticipated an escape attempt. Surely she knew what was coming, and surely she would react the same way she had in Yokohama after Chihiro's madness had spiraled if the newly minted Lieutenant Umeda Kimi's report was to be believed. Instead, the cornered rat had finally discovered her teeth, and all I had found in that tiny room was a second Chihiro. I had listened patiently to her accusations of treachery, of favoritism, and all I could think about was how this woman might have saved thirty thousand of our countrymen had she shown this same defiant fire earlier.
Technically speaking, I hadn't needed to pull the trigger myself. I had no shortage of willing hands these days, not to mention how many angry, grieving people would jump at the opportunity for some personal vengeance for Yokohama. I had pulled it anyway, the snap-crack of the accelerated bead echoing in that tiny concrete box as Sui's last futile struggles faded away.
It had been painless and quick, though that had more to do with my desire to be done with her than any altruism.
When I executed Sui, I had felt no anger, nor any satisfaction, and certainly no guilt. I had only felt the vague pressure I recognized as magically muffled exhaustion as I holstered my pistol, another item on my daily list checked off as the two IAF soldiers began handling the corpse. Taking Sui's life was simply another duty, and one that I had found far easier to shoulder than offering condolences to grieving survivors or offering hope to a desperate crowd. A burden all the same, but one slightly less emotionally exhausting than the others.
I wondered if Naoto had felt that same weary detachment. Remembering his waxen skin and hollow eyes, that he'd felt the same exhaustion was unquestionable. That he had carried on regardless without any obvious crutch was nothing short of remarkable. He had no magic; perhaps he didn't need any.
But, I thought, looking across the table at Ichiya's drawn face, perhaps I can grant the lieutenant a greater degree of grace than I afforded to Sui. Unlike Sui, she didn't egg Chihiro's foolishness on, as best as I can tell. Nor did she encourage the women under her command to follow in their leader's example. If she had, if the entirety of her command had gone rogue, who knows what damage might have resulted? And despite her poor choice in friends, Iciya has done good work on the evacuations. She was a comrade once.
…Once, my train of thought continued, but now, an example needs to be made. We are not terrorists, striking out at random targets in the hopes of changing something. We are an army fighting for the liberation of Japan.
Breakdowns in discipline will not be tolerated, and misplaced sentimentality will merely damn the cause to a shallow grave beneath the boot of our heartless oppressors.
"Yes," I whispered back without looking away from the stenographer, nodding as he read the finding of the penultimate charge. "I have a sentence in mind."
"Tanya…" For the first time since the board began, Inoue looked… not uncomfortable, but perhaps conflicted. "Are you sure about this? The phone, the disobedience… This is about Chihiro, isn't it? She's already dead. Nothing you do to Ichiya will change that."
"Thirty thousand dead for nothing," I replied, entirely unmoved. "This isn't justice, but that doesn't render this proceeding meaningless. After all, unlike theirs, Ichiya's death will not be in vain."
Inoue held my eyes for a moment, and I did not look away, allowing the rest of the ersatz courtroom to fade away as I tried to convey my sincerity, my vision to her. I must have succeeded, for after a few seconds she slowly nodded and looked away, toward the doomed Ichiya.
That, it seemed, was that.
At last, his recounting of the charges and the findings complete, the stenographer returned to his seat and I rose again. "As the chairwoman of this board of inquiry, I ask for a verbal verdict on the guilt of Lieutenant Ichiya. On all charges, what say you?"
The formalities, after all, must be observed.
"Guilty," chorused Inoue and Koichi. Ichiya, who had grown increasingly pale as the list of charges she had inadvertently admitted her guilt to was read, swayed in her chair, face ashen gray.
"And I also say guilty," I echoed, a moment later. "As the chairwoman of the board, I name you a dishonored member of the Kozuki Organization and the Rising Sun Benevolent Association for your part in the conspiracy against myself and others. For this, you will be stripped of your rank and your name struck from our membership. For your role in the murder of civilians, both invader and otherwise, I sentence you to death.
"However," I raised a quelling hand, even though the condemned had shown no sign of interrupting, "I am not unmerciful. In recognition of your otherwise unblemished service record, you will be given an hour to write your goodbyes and last statement, and to enjoy a last drink if you so choose. You will then be provided with the final means to reclaim your honor."
Ichiya, lieutenant of the Kozuki Organization no more, looked up from her private hell to meet my eyes. Then, in a shuddering nod, her head jerked up and down as if puppeted by unseen hands, her eyes wet holes in a sallow face. She understood exactly what I was saying, what I had offered her.
Redemption and a place of honor, should she make the only apology the ancient ways had deemed acceptable and appropriate for failure in battle.
Coincidentally, such an expression would all but guarantee that any blame for the whole Chihiro Saga would land on her shoulders even after her death. The choices of the Leadership Commission, the Triad that had set Chihiro loose, would be washed away along with Ichiya's own dishonor.
"Lieutenant Koichi…" I stood and wavered slightly as exhaustion washed over me, now that the deed was done. Even my still-spinning enhancement suite could only blunt the edge. The pressure weighed down on my shoulders like a soaked blanket for a second before I pushed it away.
Focus! I had no time to be tired. Already, my mind was turning to the next item on my agenda. My list was long, and every item clamored for resolution, like a flock of nattering birds. One task was accomplished and yet so many more remained. Every time it seemed like the end was in sight, Junji or Inoue or somebody else would arrive with yet more reports and yet more work.
Good work is rewarded with more work. I reminded myself. And duty is a mountain.
I turned from the room, showing condemned and board alike my back. I had another appointment, and my time here was through.
"Lieutenant, I leave matters in your capable hands. Please ensure that she has a capable second and a cloth to wash her neck."
JULY 11, 2016 ATB
RSBA HEADQUARTERS, SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1130
"Tanya," Ohgi greeted me, the warmth of his voice only slightly sapped by the crackling static of the radio, "it's good to hear from you. How're you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected," I replied, my habitual reserve holding for a moment as I checked that Junji's technician had closed the door behind him.
"Of course, when my expectations were formed by how utterly exhausted you were when we returned to Shinjuku, Commander Kozuki, that really isn't saying too much. Truth be told," I added, trying to inject a note of levity, "I could really use a vacation."
"Well," said Ohgi, and I could almost hear his smile, "you'll be happy to know that in the course of our recent expansions that The School now has an onsen! Let me tell you, Tanya, that nothing takes the edge off a long day quite like a soak. Now, it's no Kusatsu, but I'd say it's just about the next best thing!"
"That does sound really nice," I admitted, imagining the feeling of sitting down in steaming mineral water and allowing myself to relax. After years of filth punctuated by freezing cold showers, it sounded like heaven. "Someday, perhaps…"
"Someday," he agreed with an air of wistfulness. "Not too long, though… After all, nothing's ever certain these days. Who knows when we'll… Well, when we'll no longer have the chance to enjoy another party together, eh, Naoto?"
"Right, right…" Whatever he might have said next disappeared into a burst of static, and I could almost imagine Naoto yawning into the radio receiver. The leader of the Kozuki Organization sounded as stressed as always, but that was, unfortunately, to be expected; like his sister, the elder Kozuki was always prone to overwork. "Well, I'm… glad to hear that you're doing alright… Tanya."
Despite myself, my heart leapt into my throat at the sound of my name. For months now, ever since Naoto had vanished into the hills of Gunma and Kallen into the Ashford ROTC, my fellow half-Britannian had only referred to me as "Commander Hajime," a title that sounded profoundly wrong coming from him. I had reluctantly followed suit, giving him the same title that the people of Shinjuku had given me.
Commander Kozuki never rolled off the tongue as well as Naoto's given name did, though.
"Thank you… Naoto." It was absurd that the simple use of my name should make me so emotional, but for Naoto and Kallen, both of whom walked half in our world and half in the world of their father, names were very important. "I will admit that my load has, in some ways, lightened recently. I haven't heard any pointed comments from the Notables on your leadership skills since the news from Yokohama arrived."
"Right…" The momentary levity dispelled immediately. "Yokohama. We need to talk about that… Lots to get done, before… well, before."
"But first," Ohgi cut in, his smile still audible but with an unmistakable firmness not previously in evidence, "Naoto has something important to say. Don't you, Naoto?"
"Yes." The solitary word hung in the air for a moment, and I could almost see Ohgi shooting a prodding look at his friend, our leader. "I've… I've sulked for long enough. That's over. There's no room for that garbage. There wasn't before, but now…"
"I understand." And I did. Thirty thousand dead had a way of putting things into perspective. "For what it's worth… I regret the pain I brought to you and your mother. If I'd had the time, I would have asked for your input."
"That…" Naoto sighed, "that doesn't really help. But I appreciate the gesture."
And that, seemingly, was that.
"Onto business, then," Naoto continued briskly, the brimming emotions that not even radio static could entirely hide slipping away with the topic of his sister. "We've begun to have a traffic problem. The ratline to Takasaki was pretty visible when we were still passing seven hundred or so people a week. Too few safehouses with too many people leaving behind way too many tracks. If you want to increase throughput, we'll need more routes."
"That will take time, though," I noted, not disagreeing with Naoto's assessment in the slightest. "Scouting out new waystations, determining patrol schedules, making contact with locals and establishing supply caches… All of that requires time that we don't have."
"We-" Naoto started.
"I have a suggestion," said Ohgi, accidentally cutting off Naoto's reply.
"Ah, sorry about that. But," Ohgi continued, "I recommend looking north to Ibaraki. It sounds like Yoshi's been doing a good job setting down roots outside of Mito, at least according to the reports Lieutenant Junji has forwarded on to us, and Naoto, we have a few friends up near Katashina now, don't we? It's less of a direct route than heading straight through Saitama to Takasaki, I admit, but what if we go on through Nikko instead?"
"Katashina, eh?" Naoto mused. "Yeah, you could say we have a few friends…"
"Friends?" I asked, practically certain that I was missing out on something here. "Could you please elaborate, Naoto?"
"I've embraced regionality," Naoto replied, a hint of a smile in his voice, "by which I mean, I let nature take its course. Things are…" he paused, "different out here in the countryside, compared to the city. There's fewer people, but they're spread out over a much larger area, which makes it difficult to centralize. Instead of trying to force the issue, Ohgi and I came up with a different pattern."
"Once a training cohort of recruits from Shinjuku is almost done," Ohgi put in, "we pair them up with local recruits, or with members of an allied band."
"Allied bands?" I reached for my notepad. "Last I heard, you were experiencing difficulties with the locals. When did that change?"
While the overwhelming violence of the Conquest had shattered the old pillars of Japanese society, Britannian negligence had allowed those shards to fuse together into new sources of authority as the people sought order in the chaos. In Shinjuku, those sources of authority had been in large part the gangs, who carved fiefdoms out of the cluttered streets with the tacit support of the Britannian backers who used those gangs as procurers and knee-breakers. Authority also stemmed from local self-defense groups, who all too often became gangs in the fullness of time. Naoto's burgeoning rebel cell could have grown to become one such group.
In the countryside, things had taken a different path than in the Settlements. Instead of numerous but geographically limited street gangs, a vast mosaic of groups had sprung out of the rural towns and villages of Japan even as the first Britannian surveyors arrived to parcel them out into noble estates.
Some of these groups were simple bandits, the country cousins of the old Kokuryu-kai, women and mostly men who took Britannian negligence as license to take out their pain on their neighbors. Others had more closely paralleled Naoto's group and had taken up arms against the Britannians and their collaborators. Most of these groups died quickly as punitive columns swept out of the Settlements to burn and kill anything in the offending region. Many of the survivors had found their way to the JLF, but not all.
The mountainous central spine of Honshu, running from Shizuoka and Nagano up through Akita, had long been haunted by guerrilla bands that ranged greatly in size and equipment but were generally united in their lack of success. Some had claimed small victories in helping people escape from the estates of the more… involved nobles, funneling the refugees either to hidden communities in the mountains or to more laxly governed towns. Others took pride in assassinating particularly hated Honorary overseers or policemen, striking back at the Britannian apparatus without provoking a full reprisal.
Almost to a one, the existing guerrilla bands had spurned Naoto's offers of cooperation. They had stuck it out alone in the wilderness for years, without Kyoto's support and while resisting the pressure of the JLF or the other three or four major regional groups to join up. They were dubious, to say the least, of a half-Britannian leader. They wanted to see results before they committed.
I wondered what had changed.
"That's right," Ohgi confirmed, his voice almost cheerful for a moment. "Our efforts have finally begun to bear success. We realized that we had a lot of idle hands, including plenty with specialist skills. It's amazing how much goodwill pitching-in can bring, especially when you've got people who know how to get old water heaters working."
"Everybody likes a hot shower, I suppose." I paused, then asked, "How is Major Onoda taking it? Considering how these new allies are coming to us rather than the JLF, do you see this as a future wedge?"
"Hmm…No. No, I don't think so," said Ohgi after a thoughtful moment. "To tell you the truth, I think that we're beginning to grow on the Major. Or, at least, he's seen the value in working with us. He's been increasingly helpful of late; he even wrote back to some contact of his back at his divisional headquarters and… Well, let's just say that we've been able to expand our training curriculum dramatically."
How much of that is Onoda's changing sympathies, I wondered, remembering the sour old cuss, and how much of that is a result of Kaguya's influence? Doubtless his own ambitions are mixed into all of this as well.
"I want to know more about that, but let's finish the discussion of the refugee issue," I said, turning the conversation back. "You pair new graduates up with members of allied bands, and…?"
"And we give them a few weeks of freedom to roam the land and meet people," Naoto replied, smoothly cutting back into the conversation. "Then, they come back and tell me about who they met, where they went, what they saw, and so forth. And then we reach out to Junji, who does his best to scrape together what the Britannians are saying or doing or talking about in that region, and we ask Onoda what the JLF is doing in the same region."
"Once we've got a pile of intelligence," Ohgi put in, "we assemble a group spearheaded by the trainees who went to that region along with whatever refugees want to go with them and send them out with a radio, some supplies, and instructions to set up a camp. Once they radio back and inform us that they've found a foothold and elected a leader from the group of trained soldiers with them, we give them the order to stand ready and a few objectives, but otherwise let them do as they feel best, so long as they keep their heads down."
"Honestly," Naoto continued, and I could almost see him shrugging, "that's more or less what they would do anyway, and I think it's probably for the best. It preserves an element of control, and everybody knows to keep their hands off the Britannians for now, but it also allows the commanders on the ground to adapt to what they're seeing. Hence, regionalization.
"And in the case of Ohgi's proposed route, Lieutenant Matsuda has control over the region north of Katashina and south of Oze. He's got somewhere around a hundred people with him and is partnered with two bands, each less than fifty strong, operating independently in the same area."
"I see…" I paused, fighting against my exhaustion as I tried to figure out what I felt about this development.
Only three hours ago, Ichiya had shared the ritual last drink with Lieutenant Koichi, who had volunteered to serve as her second, as the consequence of an officer operating without oversight in a manner not dissimilar to that which Naoto and Ohgi had just finished describing. Just nodding along to their report made me feel like a hypocrite, condemning one while applauding the other. On the other hand, the flexible structure my fellow triumvirs were describing sounded appropriate for a geographically dispersed operation, as they were running. Besides, they enjoyed equal standing to me, and surely they best understood the organs they had established.
And, I couldn't help but admit to myself, I just made peace with Naoto after months of icy politeness. Do I really want to inflame relations again now, not even an hour after we let our last disagreement rest?
"So," I continued, moving past the uncomfortable concern and into the safer waters of practicality, "do you think that's enough of a base to provide concealment and lodging for over a thousand people a week? Assuming we split the traffic currently routed through Takasaki evenly, that's the probable low-end of what they can expect."
"Sounds like we'll need more routes, then," Ohgi replied, "or maybe more branches coming off the Takasaki and Ibaraki routes? No need for everyone to go to one place before scattering," he reasoned.
The conversation continued along that topic for a while longer as we worked out a number of potential routes and, equally importantly, destinations for the people fleeing Shinjuku Ghetto. So far, just over five thousand people had made the journey from the Tokyo Settlement to the hinterlands of Gunma Prefecture, with the very old, the very young, and intact family units overwhelmingly represented in the refugees. While this reduced the at-risk population in the Ghetto itself, it meant that the first waves of refugees generally represented a short-term burden wherever they ended up. So far, Naoto had done his best to keep the resettled populations spread out across the prefecture to keep that burden as light as possible, but that added a further element of complexity.
"Alright," I said an hour later, leaning back from my desk and massaging some feeling back into my cramping hand, "I think that's a good stopping point for today. Ohgi, you mentioned that The School is expanding its curriculum? Can you tell me more about that?"
"Not just the curriculum," Ohgi corrected, an old yet still vibrant passion enriching his voice as the topic turned towards education, "but also the number of trainees, the training staff, and the grounds of The School itself."
"Well," I replied, smiling at the renewed enthusiasm audible in his voice, "tell me more. What have you been up to these last few weeks?"
"Alright, so, I decided to shift the entirety of the last two cohorts over to cadre," Ohgi began, "especially as we started getting feedback from your Commission in Shinjuku, especially Mister Asahara, from Captain Yoshi over in Ibaraki, and since Major Onoda started writing to his superiors for more and varied support."
"Oh?" My ears perked up at that last item. "That's a surprise. It was less than two weeks ago that he managed to shake loose that mortar for training purposes."
"Perhaps not that big of a surprise," said Ohgi, "since most of that greater support is, in fact, more infantry mortars. So far, twelve of the Type 16's – 81 millimeter man-portable – have been delivered, along with six hundred bombs. They're handy little things, and the current cohort is learning how to break them down, build them up, and sight them in four minutes or less."
"Outstanding." That was good news indeed. Paired with the heavy machine guns that Kaguya had begun shipping to us for emplacement in the hardened aerial and streetside "nests" throughout Shinjuku, we were starting to develop quite the heavy weapons load for an army lacking any industrial base. "What else?"
"Our good friends in the 3rd Division have graciously lent us a pair of Type 62 heavy machine guns for training purposes," Ohgi wryly replied, making his opinion of Major Onoda's parent unit abundantly clear. "Quite generous indeed, since as far as I know nobody asked for such a loan, but… Well, they and their ammunition will be handy. From the same source, we have also received… Wait, hang on…"
There was a sound of rustling papers, and then Ohgi triumphantly returned with a cry of "Six! Six deliveries of demolition supplies, including blasting caps, remote detonators, detonation cord, eight crates of anti-personnel mines, and supplies of plastic explosives adding up to a total of two hundred and fifty kilograms!"
He paused and cleared his throat. "Frankly, the sudden burst of generosity from the JLF, while welcome, has begun to worry me. It wasn't so long ago that they refused to hand over more than a handful of shoulder-fired rockets and rifles."
"We did provide them with enough spare parts to outfit a platoon of Knightmares," I pointed out, "to say nothing of how many recruits the 3rd Division specifically gained from Niigata, in no small part thanks to our operation there. Besides that, I suspect that our new friend has begun to exert pressure."
"Ah, yes," Ohgi agreed, chuckling slightly. "I can see why that might be the case. I'm glad the negotiations are finally paying off."
Naoto and Ohgi knew that I had made an arrangement with a highly placed member of Kyoto House in exchange for food support and munitions, but that was about the extent of their knowledge of Kaguya. I hadn't wanted any rumor of the… what was she?
The arch-traitoress? I considered, remembering the names I'd heard bandied about Shinjuku for the Numbers Advisory Committee that served as the public face for the Six Houses. No, that doesn't fit… Even if she was a Britannian collaborator in truth, she's barely older than me. She would have been just seven or eight when Japan fell. A seven year old cannot commit treason. Especially not a girl growing up with the benefits and blindspots of a noble education. The fact that she's found the willingness to operate independently against her erstwhile masters, Britannia and Japanese alike, is truly amazing.
So, if not an arch-traitoress, then… Perhaps the Empress-in-Waiting? I smiled at the thought. It was ludicrous, even though Kaguya had all but named herself as such at the end of our first and only meeting. As if that title doesn't come with its own litany of problems, first and foremost the knives of every Britannian assassin the Homeland can offer. Not to mention that the old Republican oligarchs would probably be less than happy to see the Imperial House return.
Either way, I had no intention of filling them in any further until we met in person. Much as I trusted Junji and his prowess with radios, I didn't want to run the risk of some Britannian signal intelligence officer picking up any hint of "Lady Sophie Sumeragi" being involved in armed rebellion.
"Indeed," I nodded at the invisible audience seated a hundred and forty kilometers away. "But I suspect that you're right to be worried, Ohgi. If the JLF were still a state military, I would say that it sounds like they just received funding for the latest and greatest and are clearing stocks to make way for the new model.
"As the Republic of Japan no longer exists, it does sound as if they are building towards something and have decided to share their toys with everybody who might be inclined to join in."
"I can see that being the case," said Ohgi, "considering how they also were kind enough to ship us several crates of fragmentation grenades, a crate of incendiary grenades, six radio sets from the Eighties, a generator…"
His voice tapered off for a moment, and I heard the rustling of paper once more. "Well, I suppose the details aren't that important, but they also gave us several hundred carbines, submachine guns, and pistols, plus enough dextroamphetamine and codeine phosphate to keep an entire battalion zooted up for a month. Oh, and seven hundred kilograms of expired canned pre-Conquest rations, can't forget those.
"So, either they're clearing all of the expired detritus out of some supply dump, or…"
"Or someone is expecting or hoping for something quite flashy to happen quite soon," I said, giving voice to both of our thoughts. "And all of this is coming specifically from the 3rd Division? Naoto, are any of your allied bands getting handouts from the JLF as well?"
"Not that anybody's willing to admit," Naoto answered, "although we're making sure to share the wealth, now that we've got it."
"Smart" I said, fighting down a yawn. It had already been a long day, although it was just after noon, and I could really use a coffee about now. "Alright, I'll get in touch with Yoshi and ask him about safehouses in Mito, Utsunomiya, and Nikko. I'll also send a scout unit out west to Yamanashi with an eye towards finding a route north through Matsumoto, although I am still reserving judgment on that one. I'm not certain about the wisdom of running a ratline so close to the Fuji Mines."
"Well," Naoto reasoned, "even if we don't route through Yamanashi, more intelligence on the Fuji Special District can hardly hurt. Anyway, I'll send out word to Lieutenant Matsuda instructing him to start finding places to stash incoming refugees, and the same to Lieutenants Hiroyuki and Shigeo, who are both operating north of Ueda. If we end up routing people through Nagano, they'll be best placed to receive."
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "Other than that…"
I swatted down the urge to wring my hands like some guilty messenger bearing ill tidings. Not that the petty victory made me feel any better about the news I was about to deliver.
I took a deep breath. "Naoto… I got a call from our producer friend an hour ago; you know the one. He's apparently got a source somewhere in the staff of Thornton International, one with access to the week's scheduled flights. Diethard was snooping into some starlet or whoever who Clovis invited for a visit to the Area, but when he got that list he saw a chartered flight out of New Leicester on it…"
For a moment, all I could hear over the radio was the sound of heavy breathing.
"My father… It has to be my father, coming to Area 11. The airport at New Leicester is tiny, almost nobody uses it for anything but local flights. For someone to charter a direct flight from there to Area 11?" Naoto sighed. "It's him, no question about it."
Somehow, his sigh, almost of exasperation, failed to set my heart at ease.
"Will Kallen be alright?" I wanted to ask, the question leaping to my lips with alarming speed, seemingly bypassing my brain in the process. It was all I could do to close my mouth before it could escape the tip of my tongue.
According to Inoue's status reports, her cadet training was proceeding swimmingly, but the arrival of her father could throw everything into the garbage! She has a difficult enough time remaining civil around Britannians who didn't have a personal hand in abandoning her and her family to the tenderness of the Settlement. Asking for her to remain civil and collected in front of her father…
The potential fallout from a mishandled confrontation between Lord Stadtfeld and his rebellious heiress was practically incalculable, which explained how worried the prospect made me.
"Does this present a complication?" I asked instead.
Of course, at the same time, Ohgi asked "Do we need to go get Kallen, Naoto?"
I felt my heart jump at Ohgi's mention of her name despite myself.
Just another reason to accelerate the evacuation of Shinjuku, I thought grimly. We can't afford any single point of failure anywhere. Not Kallen, not me, not even Shinjuku Ghetto.
"Hmm…no, I don't think so." Naoto replied, and I felt the tension begin to ebb out of me. "At least, not immediately. Dad's… got his own things to do. I don't think we'll cross his radar, not like that. He's not above pulling a few strings or twisting some arms, and given Kallen's whole deal with the ROTC, well…I certainly don't envy whoever her school pushes in his way. But I doubt he'll be showing up in Shinjuku, Tanya, and certainly not out in Gunma.
"Still…" I could almost see the sudden anxiety crossing his face, the stress matching my own at the thought of an angry Britannian aristocrat dragging Kallen before Clovis for judgment, "I guess I'm going to need to tell Mom, huh…?
Wait… I stopped, reorienting towards Naoto's concern. I'm going about this all wrong. Naoto got his initial resources and contacts via his father, didn't he? I even suspected early on that this whole organization was all a stalking horse set up by Lord Statfeld. Was… no, why is he coming?
The knot in my chest so suddenly tied began to loosen.
This isn't an Organization matter; this is a family matter. In which case…
"That would be wise," I replied briskly, trying not to sigh with relief or roll my eyes at Naoto's curious blindspot towards his relatives.
Judging by his relationship with Kallen, Naoto had a bad tendency to squirrel away information from his family that they really should know in the name of 'their own good.' Remembering how Hitomi had reacted after I punched out Lady Stadtfeld, I doubted she'd stand for it.
"Please convey my greetings to Mrs. Kozuki as well, when you tell her the happy news, and also my regrets. And…" I hesitated, before adding, "I am… glad to hear from you again, Naoto."
"I will, Tanya," the leader of the Kozuki Organization promised. "Until we meet again, walk with the gods."
"Stay safe, Tanya," urged Ohgi, and then I was alone, with only the empty static of a quiet channel buzzing in the communications room for company.
(Thank you to Aminta Defender, Sunny, MetalDragon, Adronio, WrandmWaffles, Rakkis157, and Aemon for beta-reading and editing this chapter.)
JULY 11, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
0540
Outside of the old apartment building Ohgi had led me to so long ago, Shinjuku waited.
The lobby was empty save for the two Sun Guard militiamen standing guard by the entrance. The broken doors of old mailboxes yawned open from the wall. The street outside was uncharacteristically thick with loitering men and women. Any crowd in this otherwise quiet corner of Shinjuku was uncharacteristic in general, but I had ceased to be surprised. A crowd much like this one had greeted me along with the sun each morning for the last several days, ever since the news of Chihiro's identification and death had broken. Word of the two-day-long massacre and forced deportation had only swollen the anxiety-ridden ranks.
As I stepped past the guards and through the door, I felt the pressure of the crowd's undivided attention settle on my shoulders. Men and women, young and old, all stared silently at me. While the noise of a city rising for work seeped in from the surrounding streets, a brittle quiet reigned here, in front of the apartment building where Ohgi and Naoto had offered me a home so many months ago.
"Brothers and sisters…" My eyes swept over the attentive crowd, picking out familiar faces in the gray light of morning. There stood Takahiro, the never-ending font of youthful enthusiasm flanked on either side by his friends, Rin and Miyu. The trio of youngsters stood silent and still for once, their faces drawn. Two rows back stood Kaho, the long-suffering girlfriend of "Trainspotter", better known as Youji, who had joined me in ambushing a convoy of Knightmares, holding her toddler in her arms. Next to her stood a gray-faced Mrs. Maki, whose children Ohgi had once tutored.
So many tired faces, speaking of sleepless nights… Everybody knows what has befallen Yokohama could just as easily happen here, could happen to them… They have all come together to find solace, and so they have come to me once more. A crowd is made up of individuals, all drawn together as their individual wants and needs coincide into a greater goal. By pooling their strength and speaking as one, they advance on their shared objective.
In the wrong hands, a crowd can easily become a mob lashing out with unthinking violence. How fortunate that they are in my hands instead, and that it is up to me to set their objective.
"Brothers and sisters," I repeated, raising my hands up and outwards as the energy of the crowd's attention filled me, palms tilting towards the crowd as renewed certainty ran through me, before snapping them into fists and thrusting them skyward, ready to speak. "Good morning! Japan lives!"
"Banzai!" The cry went up from the throats of the multitude thronging the street, their fists joining mine in the sky. "Ten thousand years!"
"Yes," I called out, the cheers cutting off immediately as the crowd strained to hear me, "the Japanese people are still strong, still fierce, still proud. No matter what insults are heaped up on us, no matter the abuse, no matter the murder of families and friends and parents and children! Ten thousand years, brothers and sisters!
"Ten thousand years would not be enough to make us forget the pain! The loss! The cruelty inflicted on thousands for the crimes of one!"
An ugly murmur of agreement rose from the crowd, and I nodded firmly back, establishing solidarity with their loss.
I'd had a hand in causing it, after all. Unintentional or otherwise.
I should have murdered Chihiro myself while I had the opportunity.
"Brothers and sisters," I called out, sweeping my gaze across the crowd, "I will not deceive you; bad days are coming."
The silence was back, as was the intense sense of focus. Glimmering eyes stared out from gray faces, every line trembling with anger and pain.
"Yes, bad days are coming indeed. Things will get worse before they get better. But…" I smiled conspiratorially at the crowd, "you already knew that, didn't you?"
A wave of nods and a few chuckles rose in reply, and I gave them a moment to express some of the tension, allowing the momentary laughter to fade.
"Yes," I agreed with myself once the rapt silence returned, pitching my voice low, "you don't need me to tell you that hard times are coming. Hard times are always coming… Hungry times, trying times…"
I smiled back at the crowd again and took a step down from the lobby entrance, so I stood only a single step above street level. I knew that some of those in the back would have to crane over shoulders and heads to see me, but today I wanted to remind the Shinjuku crowd that I had risen from the same street as they had. I was one of them, not just an authoritarian voice from above.
Above all else, I had to be beloved by Shinjuku, by the hardscrabble men and women of the tenements and streets if not by its power brokers. In the hard days ahead, I would need that love. It would be the coin I would spend to buy their sacrifice.
"But," I continued, letting my gaze soften as I stretched out my hands towards the crowd, adults and children alike reaching back out towards me in a sea of mute pleas for reassurance, "I also know that you, the people of Shinjuku, know how to endure the unendurable without letting the Japan in our hearts die."
I sought out the eyes of individual members of the crowd, letting them read in me my bonafides, my own life of trauma, and saw their acknowledging nods. "I also know that you are busy people, practical people, who don't have time to stand and be lectured about what you already know, so I'll cut this short so we can all get to the Meeting Hall for breakfast."
A ragged laugh burst from the crowd at the mention of food, as well as scattered applause. I smiled, again letting the tension soften, before raising my hands once more towards the overcast skies, drawing all attention back to me.
"Hard times shall be upon us!" and now my voice was a clarion call, cutting through the hearts and minds of the people like a scythe. "But we will rise to the occasion, brothers and sisters! You are angry – keep that anger alive in your hearts, and know that your enemy thinks you weak and beaten! You are grief-stricken – take the time to grieve, to share memories of the dead with the living, so their names will live on!
"We might join the dead soon enough, but our names will live on and one day be spoken again by Japanese tongues under a Japanese sky! Until then, work hard and train harder! Our time will come soon, brothers and sisters, and I expect everybody to do their duty below the Rising Sun! For when that time comes, we shall rise up and return this injustice so harshly foisted upon us ten-thousand-fold!
"Once more and again! Long live Japan! Long live her people! Death to our enemies!"
"LONG LIVE JAPAN! LONG LIVE JAPAN! LONG LIVE JAPAN!"
The lingering ghosts of night shaken off at last, the crowd began to dissolve as its members ambled off towards the Meeting Hall for breakfast and work assignments. The noise level began to swell and rise as conversations broke out between chatting friends or chiding parents trying to herd children off to get food before their lessons. No trace of the earlier silence remained, save in a tiny pocket around me as a few stragglers hung back, clearly hoping for a private word.
I looked past them, out over the column of retreating backs, and found myself wondering how many more speeches I would give out under the open air before such gatherings became death sentences.
If the Britannians turn their gaze upon us in earnest and start using artillery to shell any large concentrations of Elevens, the time for speeches will already be over. But, I told myself, turning to look back at Yuyuko, my bodyguard for the day, that's a consideration for the future.
"Time?" I asked, mouthing the word at Yuyuko, who consulted her watch before slashing the air in front of her. Half an hour left, apparently.
Just… Just a moment then.
I nodded to Yuyuko, who stepped forwards flanked by the guards as I slipped back away through the door, retreating into the lobby. "The Commander is taking a quick break! If you have questions or concerns, please form an orderly queue here! We will-"
The door swung shut behind me, cutting off the sounds of the street. Knowing that I was still visible from the outside through the broad windows by what had once been a receptionist's desk, I kept my back straight and my pace unhurried as I turned the corner and stepped into the first floor apartment my bodyguards had appropriated for their guardroom.
Safely out of sight, I closed my eyes and tried to feel my fingers. They were completely numb, as if I had left my hands in an icy stream for an hour. Similarly, the only thing I could feel below my knees was the dim awareness of the pressure exerted by my own body weight.
Just what would Ohgi say if he could see you now? I scolded myself as I picked my way over to a chair, practically collapsing down onto the uncushioned wood. Bad enough that you forgot dinner last night, worse still that you only managed three hours of sleep, but keeping your enhancements running practically all day yesterday only to spin them back up on first waking?
Well, that particular bill was coming due. My enhancement suite, a polite term for a collection of stripped down Imperial spells bashed together, gave me the physical and mental edge I had required for survival as a child laborer. The enhanced reflexes and improved mental processing my magic provided me had likewise made me a force to reckon with during the hit and run raids I had conducted in the mountains of Nagano and the tenements of Shinjuku.
Not without cost, though.
A wave of disorienting fatigue slammed over me as the weight of sleepless nights tried to drag me down. Eyes slamming shut, I clenched my teeth as pins and needles exploded down my arms and throughout my legs, the sudden sensation almost agonizing after hours spent numbed on magical analgesics. My back hurt, my eyes burned, and I was so, so hungry.
Blinded as my eyes dilated open, unable to handle even the minimal light of the ersatz guardroom, I grabbed the wooden lip of the chair with both hands and squeezed down, trying to anchor myself in a swirling audio-visual mess of stimulation.
The deferred emotional reactions were the worst part of spinning down, though. When I was enhanced, everything seemed so clear and easy to understand. Plans appeared almost fully formed before me, the correct and rational decision always ready at hand. Now, all the stray thoughts and tangents rampaged over my tired synapses as the highs and the lows previously smoothed out into minor dips or hills expanded into fissures and peaks.
Somewhere, a door opened. I heard footsteps approaching me, but couldn't find the will or the capacity to react. Exhausted and unenhanced, I was all but sapless, incapable in my weakness.
"Good morning, Commander." I couldn't see her through my watering eyes, but I knew that somewhere in the room, Tanaka Chika stood. "You don't have time for breakfast, I think, but I brought you an apple." She paused, evaluating my state. "I'll cut it up for you."
My exhaustion was so great that I could barely muster any concern at the thought of being helpless and alone in a room with Chihiro's little sister even as she pulled out a knife.
Or, I mused as the sounds of chopping began somewhere off to my left, you simply know that Chika is nothing like her big sister. You have nothing to worry about.
If I could, I would have laughed scornfully at that second assertion. I had no end of things to worry about. But, I would freely concede that Tanaka Chika, Inoue's devoted assistant, was nothing like the bloody-handed butcher who had condemned some thirty thousand of our countrymen to death for absolutely no gain.
Thirty Britannians… Thirty four Honorary Britannians… and consequentially, thirty thousand of our own… Chihiro, you damned fool… And I'm equally the fool for letting you off your leash. I would have killed those Britannians myself, given the chance, and already my operations have led to the deaths of far more of the invaders than your paltry trick, but every risk I took was calculated towards the accomplishment of an objective, no matter how shrouded my reason! But subtlety was never acceptable to you, was it?
Thankfully, Chika had not been in the room when the news of the official Britannian proscription against Yokohama Ghetto arrived four days ago. She had been off running some errand for Inoue, a coincidence I had regarded as a great mercy as Junji read the latest dispatch from Yokohama aloud to Inoue and I.
Less mercifully, Chika had been in the room when the news of Chihiro's unmasking had arrived two days before that, slipped quietly in front of me by a wincing Junji as Inoue and I discussed the latest district allocations with the Leadership Commission. Chika, serving as our stenographer, had dutifully noted the moment when I called for a quick break in the official minutes.
"I understand," had been the twelve year old's only response when I took her aside to explain that her elder sister had been discovered on her mission, her voice solemn and her eyes knowing. "She won't be coming back."
It hadn't been phrased as a question, and the girl – although she was my age, almost to the month – had only nodded politely as I explained that Chihiro might escape and survive to return home yet. Perhaps after losing her parents and who knew how many friends to the Britannians, Tanaka Chika had grown understandably fatalistic. Perhaps she had been savvy enough to realize that I would kill Chihiro if she ever showed back up in Shinjuku again after abandoning her mission in favor of an independent month-long killing spree. Perhaps Chika had put herself in the shoes of a fellow orphan and found something in me that she understood.
When the news of Chihiro's death had arrived as we all knew it would, Chika had shown little further reaction to the news of her big sister's fate. She had only asked Inoue to be excused for an early lunch before quietly slipping away to some private corner. Crowded as Shinjuku was, the skyscraper's weeping shells afforded plenty of hiding places for a skinny child. Thirty minutes later, Chika had returned red-eyed but ready to take notes for Inoue's afternoon meeting with Miss Tsuchiya.
And now she haunts my steps like a little ghost, I thought, blinking as she appeared with her typical unobtrusive sidle, the opposite of her sister's furious stride, in my slowly recovering peripheral vision, a dish of apple slices at the ready. Always there to feed me at the appointed times, or to pass messages on from Inoue…
It's just a bit unnerving.
It was strange to admit that the last Tanaka made me feel that way. I had never felt so much as a hint of disquiet around the survivors of the others I had lost under my command; some had raged, some had wept, and some had shown an understandable if undignified interest in what benefits they could still expect in the wake of their loved one's sacrifice. Mister Tokihaku, Sumire's widower, stood out in my mind as an example of dignified grief.
But in the cases of all the others who have died executing my orders, the personal dimension was not the same as it is for Chihiro. I trained with Sumire and Manabu and knew their stories, but when they died, they did so as soldiers under orders. For Chihiro… She was a personal enemy of mine and I sent her away to further my own agenda.
But Chika had proven herself reliable. More than that, she had proven herself trustworthy, enough that Inoue had put her in charge of making sure I ate. In quiet moments like this, the quiet girl, eyes huge and dark behind her spectacles, would appear with a small snack or a steaming glass of tea. At scheduled mealtimes, she would guide me with sheepdog tenacity down to the Meeting House's communal kitchen, refusing to leave me be until I had taken on a bowl of porridge at the very least.
A part of me noted that true betrayal could only come from trust.
"Thank you, Chika," I managed, realizing as I felt the grit on my teeth that I hadn't brushed in at least two days. I reached for an apple slice, as much for something to mask the horrible taste of my teeth as for the energy its sugars could provide me. "Just… give me a moment."
"Take your time, Commander," Chika replied in her dull, passionless voice, the antithesis of Chihiro's fire and bile. "Guard Yuyuko is running interference. There is no need to rush yourself."
"Time is too valuable to waste," I muttered rebelliously, but allowed myself to slump back into the chair. I ate another apple slice. Somehow the fruit only made my hunger more difficult to ignore. "Breakfast is at seven, right?"
"It can be earlier, Commander," said Chika, before pointing out that, "you were the one who set your schedule. All I do is keep you to your commitments."
"True," I chuckled, my voice rasping unpleasantly. "True, true… Thank you for your help, Chika…"
I paused, wondering what more I could say. What should you say to a child after you sent their only living family off to die? After you had fervently hoped for their sibling's death?
"I will get you some water too, Commander." Thankfully, Chika filled the echoing silence for me, taking the need to find something appropriate to say out of my hands.
She really is quite good at helping me with my commitments after all.
The bleak humor of the thought wrung a tired laugh out of me, prompting Chika to raise a quizzical eyebrow.
"It's nothing," I waved her down, "nothing…" I sighed. It seemed so patently unfair that the day had only just begun and I already felt so, so tired. "Well… No need to keep them waiting any longer, I suppose."
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and I reached down into myself, down to where the magic went. The formulas flickered through my mind, their equations as familiar as well worn boots.
Where had my exhaustion gone? Where was the fatigue that had felt so crushing, all of the emotional surges that wracked me like a ship caught far out from shore? As my eyelids flicked back up, the world shone.
Destroyed, and remade anew.
Chika stood before me, somber as she watched me hop to my feet, momentarily ecstatic as new life surged through my veins. I smiled at her. "Thank you, Chika. I'll be by for breakfast soon. Make sure the kitchen sets a bowl aside for me, please."
With a jerked nod, Chika turned on her heel and vanished, ghosting out of the room, leaving only glimmering apple seeds behind as evidence of her passing.
Fully spun back up, I stepped past the trio of Sun Guards in front of the apartment building and down into the street itself, down on equal ground with the queue. I smiled at the first of my waiting constituents and dipped into a polite greeting bow. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
Each of the four subsequent conversations followed a similar path; a polite greeting paired with a compliment about my impromptu speech, vague statements about how wonderful Shinjuku was looking these days, and finally some mention of the particular issue or complaint that was the speaker's supposed reason for lingering behind. Those complaints were, to a one, incredibly trite and minor, almost irrelevant.
They were also not the reason for the conversations. No, that particular truth was layered throughout all the rest, through the meandering anecdotes and forced laughter. It was the quiet, desperate need for some reassurance that things weren't really as bad as they looked, that I as the closest thing to an authority figure left in Shinjuku had some plan up my sleeve to keep Yokohama's fate from finding a home in the Tokyo Settlement's ghetto.
I was careful to make no promises.
As the last person waiting to speak with me stepped forwards, Yuyuko tensed beside me. I heard the two door guards approaching as well, leaving their posts to back up my bodyguard. I could almost see their hands drifting towards their pistols, ready for trouble.
Masatsugu had clearly gone out of his way to warn the rest of the IAF about Councilor Nishizumi Tsutsumi.
I turned and gestured for the guards to return to their posts, and glared at Yuyuko until she took a reluctant step back, before turning to bow a greeting to the Councilor for Central Kamiochiai. "Councilor Nishizumi. What can I do for you, the Council of Notables, or possibly Kamiochiai this morning?"
"Commander," the one-time 'legitimate businessman' rumbled in return. "It's good to see you again."
As our previous meeting had concluded with mutually unsubtle jabs, the manifest dishonesty almost brought a smile to my lips. After dealing with the upheaval left in the wake of the almost stupefying act of mass slaughter so recently perpetrated by the Britannians, it was almost refreshing to return to the usual sleaze of politics.
But, even the Notable seemed shaken by recent events. Unlike our previous encounter a mere two weeks ago, Councilor Nishizumi had come to my door alone and unarmed; three concessions in one act. In the language of power politics, a tongue in which we were both fluent, he was unquestionably assuming an almost submissive role, arriving as a supplicant rather than a rival. That he had waited until the prospective audience of the early morning crowd had dissipated before approaching me furthered that impression.
Today, apparently, was not for showboating.
"And you as well," I replied, allowing my voice to soften as I threw the man a bone. If he wanted to deal in good faith, I would happily oblige. "I've got a meeting in ten minutes, so let's make this quick. What can I do for you today?"
"Busy morning, eh?" Nishizumi's smile didn't touch the worry dismayingly easy to find in his eyes. "That's fine. I won't take much time. It's…" He coughed awkwardly into his hand, shifting side to side. "It's just that… Lately, things have… changed."
"Mhm," I hummed noncommittally, simmering as I nodded, allowing the Notable to continue to struggle to find his words. "And of course, the Council of Notables would like some reassurances, I am sure."
If this is the council's attempt to come running to me begging for handouts, or worse yet, demands, after the Britannians just finished murdering a town's worth of our people, I think I just might enjoy "re-educating" them on the nature of our relationship.
"Not today," Councilor Nishizumi denied, shaking his head. "Look… Commander… I know that there's a bit of bad blood between us – hell, between you and the whole Council! – but, well…"
"But things have changed," I supplied, beginning to see what he was getting at.
"But things have changed," the old sailor agreed. "And none of us in the Council is stupid enough to think that the Britannians give a good goddamn about us, any more than they do about anybody else in any ghetto in the Area. An Eleven is an Eleven is an Eleven."
"That's always been the way of things," I pointed out. "We've both lived in Shinjuku for years, Councilor Nishizumi, so please, be blunt. What's changed specifically?"
"Blunt, eh?" Councilor Nishizumi paused, as if weighing up his words, before proving true to his nature and bull rushing ahead. "Fine. Once you and Kozuki and Kaname flattened all the gangs and started rebuilding Shinjuku, and once you proved you weren't just gonna be another bigger gang, we got… Eh…"
He sagged, suddenly, as if the shame and exhaustion was physically pressing down on his shoulders.
"Well, ain't no two ways about it, we got cocky. It was like the Republic was back for a bit, you know? We kinda got drunk on the feeling. Thinking the good times were back, that we had power again, that we were in control again. Then, well…" he grimaced, shaking his head, "we've sobered up now. Thirty-k dead…it's a helluva smack in the face for us. One we sorely needed."
"Sobering indeed," I agreed. "Not to mention the deportations. Junji's still trying to attach some hard figures to those."
"Right, right…" He ran a distracted hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Right… Well, the Council wants you to know that all the normal business is on hold for now. We're behind you now, all the way. You don't have to worry about us. Understand?"
You weren't behind me before? I almost said before pausing and biting back my initial incredulous response. No, think, don't react. Why this little announcement? On face value, it makes sense – if the Britannians could kill us all, cooperation is the logical response. But why wouldn't he announce that in front of the crowd? A show of unity in the face of the enemy would have been a good PR move…
Ah, I realized, finally putting the pieces together. The show of humility, the worry in his eyes, the emphasis on personal matters being put aside… What would Nishizumi, a former gang boss, expect from a rival whose power base had suddenly grown and firmed?
He would anticipate a revenge attack, the settling of old slights. He saw how the crowd responded to me, and was worried that I would take the opportunity to sweep the board clear of rivals. Caught between the Britannians on one side and myself on the other, knowing full well that the Britannians would just see an uppity Eleven, he came to submit before I forced the issue.
Of course, that submission will only last for as long as his terror of the Britannians outweighs his disdain for my leadership. But right now… as he said, things have changed.
"You don't have to worry, Councilor," I said, inclining my head to catch and hold his eyes. "After all, should the Britannians come here in force, death would be among the least of our concerns if we fail. You have my word that I will do whatever is necessary to keep us from sharing that fate, just so long as I have your full cooperation."
I paused for effect before rhetorically asking, "Do we have an understanding?"
Councilor Nishizumi sighed, bone deep weariness worn on his sleeve, yet so too could I see the edge of a smile on his lips.
"Heh, that we do, Commander," he said with a bitter chuckle. "Long live Japan."
An hour and a pair of brief stops later, I walked into the conference room I had claimed for my own on the second floor of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association's Headquarters, a bowl of porridge in hand and just in time for Lieutenant Ichiya's board of inquiry.
Not that Lieutenant Ichiya had been informed that this morning's meeting was slated to be her board of inquiry, of course, nor that she had even been under investigation. As far as she knew, she was simply coming to the Rising Sun's headquarters to deliver her regular weekly report.
It was easier for all this way.
I am sure she would be surprised to learn that her successor has already received word of her sudden promotion as well. Or, perhaps not… the reward should be commensurate with the services rendered, after all.
The habitually nervous lieutenant was seated on the far side of the conference room table, a Sun Guard with a navy-blue Internal Affairs sash quietly lurking behind her. On my side of the table, Inoue and Lieutenant Koichi waited patiently, separated by an empty chair. Inoue had predictably taken the opportunity to catch up on her paperwork and only looked up from the stack of manifests at her side to nod and smile a greeting before signing off some hand receipt. Equally predictably, Koichi was engaged in some whispered side conversation with one of his men, who hastily stepped back as I approached.
"Inoue, Lieutenant Koichi," I nodded a greeting, before turning to include "Lieutenant Ichiya. Shall we just get things started?"
Inoue muttered something approving as she pushed her wad of papers away into a satchel, clearing the space in front of her for a notepad. Koichi merely nodded.
"Alright." I turned and looked at the Sun Guard sitting unobtrusively at the end of the table, a notebook of his own ready to take the official record. He nodded, ready to execute his duty.
After years of fearing being the subject of a military tribunal… How ironic is it that when I finally experience one, it is from the other side of the bench?
"Alright," I repeated, shaking the stray thought away. "I, Hajime Tanya, Commander of the Kozuki Organization and acting board member of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association, call this board of inquiry to order. In attendance are Lieutenant Inoue Naomi, board member of the Rising Sun Benevolent Association, and Lieutenant Koichi, representing the Internal Affairs Force, as well as the accused, Lieutenant Ichiya, commander of the 14th Sun Guard Company, also known as the Naka Free Rangers."
The room was silent except for the scratching of the stenographer's pen as I turned to Ichiya. "Lieutenant, you stand accused before this board of inquiry of willful participation in unsanctioned actions, of communicating with members on deployment in contravention of standing orders, of disobedience of the same, of conspiring against the Kozuki Organization and its leadership, of concealing evidence of the same conspiracy, and of providing material support to an outlaw.
"Lieutenant Ichiya, do you understand the charges against you?" I paused, and when no response was immediately forthcoming, repeated "Do you understand the charges against you, or do you require an explanation before submitting your plea?"
"I…" Ichiya shook her head slowly, disbelievingly at first but with mounting concern as she looked from unsmiling face to unsmiling face. "No, I don't understand… I don't understand any of them. I don't remember seeing anything about any of them written down anywhere…!"
"In order," I replied, speaking over her rising panic, "willful participation in unsanctioned actions describes voluntarily aiding an attack or raid not approved by the Triad, or by the Leadership Commission in their stead.
"Communication with members on deployment is forbidden according to standing orders, on the grounds that unregulated communication could reveal operational details to the enemy. Disobedience is self-explanatory.
"Conspiracy against the Kozuki Organization indicates voluntary participation in the planning of acts contrary to the interest of the Organization, while conspiracy against the leadership is the same only against the well-being of the leadership. Concealing evidence is again, self-explanatory, while providing material support means that you assisted a noted enemy of the people of Shinjuku."
The stenographer bent over his pad, pen scribbling industriously. Next to me, Inoue was doodling in the margin of her otherwise empty page. Koichi looked just as cadaverous as always, except for the small motions of his head as he looked from me to Ichiya and back, faint interest gleaming in his eyes.
"Now that the charges have been explained to you," I continued, "how do you plead?"
"Not…" Ichiya swallowed, fighting for some shred of professionalism, her eyes darting and nervous. "Not guilty…? Yes, not guilty!"
"Very well." I turned to the stenographer, who looked up briefly from his page. "Let it be known that the defendant has pled not guilty to all charges."
"Noted," the man nodded, his hand twitching back into motion.
"Examination will now begin." I turned to Koichi, split-faced and expressionless but for an unsavory sparkle in his eyes. "Lieutenant Koichi, would you do the honors?"
"Certainly, Commander Hajime," the scarred man replied, unfolding himself from his chair to stand as I regained my seat and took the opportunity to shovel rapidly cooling porridge into my mouth. "Lieutenant Ichiya, you remained in contact with the former lieutenant Tanaka Chihiro after her departure from Shinjuku Ghetto, did you not?"
"Well, yeah?" Ichiya's reply quirked up into a question, with just the slightest patina of fear coloring the inquiry. "Why wouldn't I? She's… she was my friend as well as the one who'd been in charge before I took over after she got sent out. Why wouldn't I have stayed in contact?"
"Strike her question from the record," I told the stenographer, looking up from my breakfast. "The defendant does not have the right to ask questions, save when the board of inquiry specifically grants her said permission."
"Noted."
"So," Koichi pressed on, one corner of my most enthusiastic lieutenant's mutilated mouth flicking up into a joyless smile, "you admit to both unapproved communication and disobedience at the same time, as you fully admit to knowing that Tanaka was sent away on the Triad's authority. Very convenient; thank you for keeping this short. Now, let's discuss the content of your communications with Chihiro, shall we? They were carried out via your cell phone, correct?"
"Y-yes." Ichiya looked increasingly pale, the last remnants of her confusion deepening into fear. While the specific point of this exercise might still be lost on her, she had clearly grasped the gravity of her situation. Inoue looked up from the pad, met her eyes, and dispassionately returned to her doodling.
"We are told," Koichi revealed with just a touch of the theatrical, "that on the night of her departure, Chihiro publicly cursed Commander Hajime in particular and the Rising Sun Benevolent Association in general. We are told that she made several threats, both general and specific, against both. Despite this, and despite repeating those curses and threats as well as expanding to a few new ones, you continued to communicate with Chihiro and kept her up to date on affairs in Shinjuku independent of the designated official radio channel. Is this correct?"
"L-look," Ichiya began, licking dry lips, "I don't know who told you all of this, but… Yeah, Chihiro talked a lot of shit! We all know that, right?"
The room remained silent as Ichiya scanned desperately for support.
"Well, she did! But… she drank a lot, right? And she was my boss. Besides, it's not like she was going to do anything against us! Why would I betray her confidence by passing on random shit-talk like that?" Ichiya once again got no response. "Look, can I just know who you heard all this from? They might be lying!"
"No," Koichi replied, utterly unperturbed, "you may not. Note," he turned to the stenographer, who looked up again, "that Lieutenant Ichiya has admitted to conspiracy against the leadership and concealing evidence of that conspiracy on behalf of Tanaka Chihiro."
"Noted."
"Now," Koichi said, his tone never rising from its quiet interest, "we have established that you understood that Tanaka Chihiro had been sent to Yokohama, where she made pointed threats against the leadership in general, particularly Commander Hajime on the basis of her heritage, and on the basis of her involvement in humanitarian relief efforts for Honorary Britannians in the Tokyo Settlement.
"You remained in communication with her after the killings of Honorary Britannians in the Yokohama region had begun, did you not, and continued to pass along intelligence about the mood in Shinjuku?"
"Yes, but-"
"And when your messenger, a certain Iwamoto Miyako, returned from Yokohama in the company of Ogasawara Sui on July the eighth," Koichi purred, now clearly fully engaged with his role, "what did you do? Why did you refrain from informing the Leadership Commission of this development?"
"Well…" Ichiya trailed off for a moment, before rallying. "Look, I had a duty to my command, to the Rangers! We look out for ourselves because we can't trust anybody else to have our backs! I had a duty to discharge, and so I did! Once everything was safely handled, I noted their presence in my daily report on the ninth! I did bring it to the Commission's attention!"
"Your report on the ninth was late," Inoue interjected, "so late that it only crossed my desk the next morning. Your note was a single sentence appended to the end of a paragraph concerned with an unrelated manner. As you are generally a competent officer, Lieutenant, this seems less like a mistake in report structure than a case of deliberate obfuscation."
"Take a note," Koichi said, turning to the stenographer again, "that the defendant has admitted to harboring an outlaw, one Ogasawara Sui, who was declared an outlaw due to her culpability in the so-called Yokohama Sniper Attacks, an unauthorized spree of attacks on Britannian and Honorary Britannian civilians. As the reprisal of these attacks was the mass slaughter of thirty thousand Japanese in Yokohama, the defendant has also admitted her guilt on the matters of participation in unsanctioned attacks and of conspiring against the Kozuki Organization as well."
"Well," I said, reclaiming the whip hand of the proceedings as I pushed the empty bowl away and looked up at Koichi, who graciously returned to his seat so I wouldn't have to crane my head up, "that accounts for all the charges, I think. Stenographer?"
"Yes." The Sun Guard rose from his chair. "On the charge of willful participation in unsanctioned actions, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of communicating with members on deployment in contravention of standing orders, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of disobedience of standing orders, Lieutenant Ichiya pled not guilty and has subsequently admitted without coercion to her guilt. On the charge of…"
As the stenographer droned on down through the list, Koichi nodding gravely along, Inoue leaned over to whisper in my ear. "So… We haven't done any of these before, but since this is your show, I take it that you've already got a sentence in mind?"
My show indeed…
Show was absolutely the correct term for this so-called "board of inquiry". Ever since Ichiya's messenger, Umeda Kimi, had quietly made a surreptitious second stop at the Rising Sun's headquarters after reporting in at Naka Street three days ago, the day after the news of the slaughter in Yokohama broke, I'd had the show's conclusion firmly in mind. All that had remained was setting up this pantomime of a legal proceeding.
I will not allow a second Chihiro on my watch. This disobedience ends now. If I am to wage a war against Britannia, all internal threats must be excised before they can metastasize. And if I am to save the rest of Chihiro's command, their leader and Chihiro's closest surviving collaborator must be dealt with.
After all, Sui was both already dead and far too lowly to serve as a sufficient object lesson. Leadership as well as followers would be held accountable.
The quiet basement corner Naoto had ordered be walled-off back during his private war with the gangs had been my first stop after arriving at the Rising Sun's headquarters. There, under the silent guard of two women in Internal Affairs' sashes, Sui had been waiting for me.
To her credit, Sui had neither begged my forgiveness nor pleaded for her life. I had frankly anticipated an escape attempt. Surely she knew what was coming, and surely she would react the same way she had in Yokohama after Chihiro's madness had spiraled if the newly minted Lieutenant Umeda Kimi's report was to be believed. Instead, the cornered rat had finally discovered her teeth, and all I had found in that tiny room was a second Chihiro. I had listened patiently to her accusations of treachery, of favoritism, and all I could think about was how this woman might have saved thirty thousand of our countrymen had she shown this same defiant fire earlier.
Technically speaking, I hadn't needed to pull the trigger myself. I had no shortage of willing hands these days, not to mention how many angry, grieving people would jump at the opportunity for some personal vengeance for Yokohama. I had pulled it anyway, the snap-crack of the accelerated bead echoing in that tiny concrete box as Sui's last futile struggles faded away.
It had been painless and quick, though that had more to do with my desire to be done with her than any altruism.
When I executed Sui, I had felt no anger, nor any satisfaction, and certainly no guilt. I had only felt the vague pressure I recognized as magically muffled exhaustion as I holstered my pistol, another item on my daily list checked off as the two IAF soldiers began handling the corpse. Taking Sui's life was simply another duty, and one that I had found far easier to shoulder than offering condolences to grieving survivors or offering hope to a desperate crowd. A burden all the same, but one slightly less emotionally exhausting than the others.
I wondered if Naoto had felt that same weary detachment. Remembering his waxen skin and hollow eyes, that he'd felt the same exhaustion was unquestionable. That he had carried on regardless without any obvious crutch was nothing short of remarkable. He had no magic; perhaps he didn't need any.
But, I thought, looking across the table at Ichiya's drawn face, perhaps I can grant the lieutenant a greater degree of grace than I afforded to Sui. Unlike Sui, she didn't egg Chihiro's foolishness on, as best as I can tell. Nor did she encourage the women under her command to follow in their leader's example. If she had, if the entirety of her command had gone rogue, who knows what damage might have resulted? And despite her poor choice in friends, Iciya has done good work on the evacuations. She was a comrade once.
…Once, my train of thought continued, but now, an example needs to be made. We are not terrorists, striking out at random targets in the hopes of changing something. We are an army fighting for the liberation of Japan.
Breakdowns in discipline will not be tolerated, and misplaced sentimentality will merely damn the cause to a shallow grave beneath the boot of our heartless oppressors.
"Yes," I whispered back without looking away from the stenographer, nodding as he read the finding of the penultimate charge. "I have a sentence in mind."
"Tanya…" For the first time since the board began, Inoue looked… not uncomfortable, but perhaps conflicted. "Are you sure about this? The phone, the disobedience… This is about Chihiro, isn't it? She's already dead. Nothing you do to Ichiya will change that."
"Thirty thousand dead for nothing," I replied, entirely unmoved. "This isn't justice, but that doesn't render this proceeding meaningless. After all, unlike theirs, Ichiya's death will not be in vain."
Inoue held my eyes for a moment, and I did not look away, allowing the rest of the ersatz courtroom to fade away as I tried to convey my sincerity, my vision to her. I must have succeeded, for after a few seconds she slowly nodded and looked away, toward the doomed Ichiya.
That, it seemed, was that.
At last, his recounting of the charges and the findings complete, the stenographer returned to his seat and I rose again. "As the chairwoman of this board of inquiry, I ask for a verbal verdict on the guilt of Lieutenant Ichiya. On all charges, what say you?"
The formalities, after all, must be observed.
"Guilty," chorused Inoue and Koichi. Ichiya, who had grown increasingly pale as the list of charges she had inadvertently admitted her guilt to was read, swayed in her chair, face ashen gray.
"And I also say guilty," I echoed, a moment later. "As the chairwoman of the board, I name you a dishonored member of the Kozuki Organization and the Rising Sun Benevolent Association for your part in the conspiracy against myself and others. For this, you will be stripped of your rank and your name struck from our membership. For your role in the murder of civilians, both invader and otherwise, I sentence you to death.
"However," I raised a quelling hand, even though the condemned had shown no sign of interrupting, "I am not unmerciful. In recognition of your otherwise unblemished service record, you will be given an hour to write your goodbyes and last statement, and to enjoy a last drink if you so choose. You will then be provided with the final means to reclaim your honor."
Ichiya, lieutenant of the Kozuki Organization no more, looked up from her private hell to meet my eyes. Then, in a shuddering nod, her head jerked up and down as if puppeted by unseen hands, her eyes wet holes in a sallow face. She understood exactly what I was saying, what I had offered her.
Redemption and a place of honor, should she make the only apology the ancient ways had deemed acceptable and appropriate for failure in battle.
Coincidentally, such an expression would all but guarantee that any blame for the whole Chihiro Saga would land on her shoulders even after her death. The choices of the Leadership Commission, the Triad that had set Chihiro loose, would be washed away along with Ichiya's own dishonor.
"Lieutenant Koichi…" I stood and wavered slightly as exhaustion washed over me, now that the deed was done. Even my still-spinning enhancement suite could only blunt the edge. The pressure weighed down on my shoulders like a soaked blanket for a second before I pushed it away.
Focus! I had no time to be tired. Already, my mind was turning to the next item on my agenda. My list was long, and every item clamored for resolution, like a flock of nattering birds. One task was accomplished and yet so many more remained. Every time it seemed like the end was in sight, Junji or Inoue or somebody else would arrive with yet more reports and yet more work.
Good work is rewarded with more work. I reminded myself. And duty is a mountain.
I turned from the room, showing condemned and board alike my back. I had another appointment, and my time here was through.
"Lieutenant, I leave matters in your capable hands. Please ensure that she has a capable second and a cloth to wash her neck."
JULY 11, 2016 ATB
RSBA HEADQUARTERS, SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1130
"Tanya," Ohgi greeted me, the warmth of his voice only slightly sapped by the crackling static of the radio, "it's good to hear from you. How're you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected," I replied, my habitual reserve holding for a moment as I checked that Junji's technician had closed the door behind him.
"Of course, when my expectations were formed by how utterly exhausted you were when we returned to Shinjuku, Commander Kozuki, that really isn't saying too much. Truth be told," I added, trying to inject a note of levity, "I could really use a vacation."
"Well," said Ohgi, and I could almost hear his smile, "you'll be happy to know that in the course of our recent expansions that The School now has an onsen! Let me tell you, Tanya, that nothing takes the edge off a long day quite like a soak. Now, it's no Kusatsu, but I'd say it's just about the next best thing!"
"That does sound really nice," I admitted, imagining the feeling of sitting down in steaming mineral water and allowing myself to relax. After years of filth punctuated by freezing cold showers, it sounded like heaven. "Someday, perhaps…"
"Someday," he agreed with an air of wistfulness. "Not too long, though… After all, nothing's ever certain these days. Who knows when we'll… Well, when we'll no longer have the chance to enjoy another party together, eh, Naoto?"
"Right, right…" Whatever he might have said next disappeared into a burst of static, and I could almost imagine Naoto yawning into the radio receiver. The leader of the Kozuki Organization sounded as stressed as always, but that was, unfortunately, to be expected; like his sister, the elder Kozuki was always prone to overwork. "Well, I'm… glad to hear that you're doing alright… Tanya."
Despite myself, my heart leapt into my throat at the sound of my name. For months now, ever since Naoto had vanished into the hills of Gunma and Kallen into the Ashford ROTC, my fellow half-Britannian had only referred to me as "Commander Hajime," a title that sounded profoundly wrong coming from him. I had reluctantly followed suit, giving him the same title that the people of Shinjuku had given me.
Commander Kozuki never rolled off the tongue as well as Naoto's given name did, though.
"Thank you… Naoto." It was absurd that the simple use of my name should make me so emotional, but for Naoto and Kallen, both of whom walked half in our world and half in the world of their father, names were very important. "I will admit that my load has, in some ways, lightened recently. I haven't heard any pointed comments from the Notables on your leadership skills since the news from Yokohama arrived."
"Right…" The momentary levity dispelled immediately. "Yokohama. We need to talk about that… Lots to get done, before… well, before."
"But first," Ohgi cut in, his smile still audible but with an unmistakable firmness not previously in evidence, "Naoto has something important to say. Don't you, Naoto?"
"Yes." The solitary word hung in the air for a moment, and I could almost see Ohgi shooting a prodding look at his friend, our leader. "I've… I've sulked for long enough. That's over. There's no room for that garbage. There wasn't before, but now…"
"I understand." And I did. Thirty thousand dead had a way of putting things into perspective. "For what it's worth… I regret the pain I brought to you and your mother. If I'd had the time, I would have asked for your input."
"That…" Naoto sighed, "that doesn't really help. But I appreciate the gesture."
And that, seemingly, was that.
"Onto business, then," Naoto continued briskly, the brimming emotions that not even radio static could entirely hide slipping away with the topic of his sister. "We've begun to have a traffic problem. The ratline to Takasaki was pretty visible when we were still passing seven hundred or so people a week. Too few safehouses with too many people leaving behind way too many tracks. If you want to increase throughput, we'll need more routes."
"That will take time, though," I noted, not disagreeing with Naoto's assessment in the slightest. "Scouting out new waystations, determining patrol schedules, making contact with locals and establishing supply caches… All of that requires time that we don't have."
"We-" Naoto started.
"I have a suggestion," said Ohgi, accidentally cutting off Naoto's reply.
"Ah, sorry about that. But," Ohgi continued, "I recommend looking north to Ibaraki. It sounds like Yoshi's been doing a good job setting down roots outside of Mito, at least according to the reports Lieutenant Junji has forwarded on to us, and Naoto, we have a few friends up near Katashina now, don't we? It's less of a direct route than heading straight through Saitama to Takasaki, I admit, but what if we go on through Nikko instead?"
"Katashina, eh?" Naoto mused. "Yeah, you could say we have a few friends…"
"Friends?" I asked, practically certain that I was missing out on something here. "Could you please elaborate, Naoto?"
"I've embraced regionality," Naoto replied, a hint of a smile in his voice, "by which I mean, I let nature take its course. Things are…" he paused, "different out here in the countryside, compared to the city. There's fewer people, but they're spread out over a much larger area, which makes it difficult to centralize. Instead of trying to force the issue, Ohgi and I came up with a different pattern."
"Once a training cohort of recruits from Shinjuku is almost done," Ohgi put in, "we pair them up with local recruits, or with members of an allied band."
"Allied bands?" I reached for my notepad. "Last I heard, you were experiencing difficulties with the locals. When did that change?"
While the overwhelming violence of the Conquest had shattered the old pillars of Japanese society, Britannian negligence had allowed those shards to fuse together into new sources of authority as the people sought order in the chaos. In Shinjuku, those sources of authority had been in large part the gangs, who carved fiefdoms out of the cluttered streets with the tacit support of the Britannian backers who used those gangs as procurers and knee-breakers. Authority also stemmed from local self-defense groups, who all too often became gangs in the fullness of time. Naoto's burgeoning rebel cell could have grown to become one such group.
In the countryside, things had taken a different path than in the Settlements. Instead of numerous but geographically limited street gangs, a vast mosaic of groups had sprung out of the rural towns and villages of Japan even as the first Britannian surveyors arrived to parcel them out into noble estates.
Some of these groups were simple bandits, the country cousins of the old Kokuryu-kai, women and mostly men who took Britannian negligence as license to take out their pain on their neighbors. Others had more closely paralleled Naoto's group and had taken up arms against the Britannians and their collaborators. Most of these groups died quickly as punitive columns swept out of the Settlements to burn and kill anything in the offending region. Many of the survivors had found their way to the JLF, but not all.
The mountainous central spine of Honshu, running from Shizuoka and Nagano up through Akita, had long been haunted by guerrilla bands that ranged greatly in size and equipment but were generally united in their lack of success. Some had claimed small victories in helping people escape from the estates of the more… involved nobles, funneling the refugees either to hidden communities in the mountains or to more laxly governed towns. Others took pride in assassinating particularly hated Honorary overseers or policemen, striking back at the Britannian apparatus without provoking a full reprisal.
Almost to a one, the existing guerrilla bands had spurned Naoto's offers of cooperation. They had stuck it out alone in the wilderness for years, without Kyoto's support and while resisting the pressure of the JLF or the other three or four major regional groups to join up. They were dubious, to say the least, of a half-Britannian leader. They wanted to see results before they committed.
I wondered what had changed.
"That's right," Ohgi confirmed, his voice almost cheerful for a moment. "Our efforts have finally begun to bear success. We realized that we had a lot of idle hands, including plenty with specialist skills. It's amazing how much goodwill pitching-in can bring, especially when you've got people who know how to get old water heaters working."
"Everybody likes a hot shower, I suppose." I paused, then asked, "How is Major Onoda taking it? Considering how these new allies are coming to us rather than the JLF, do you see this as a future wedge?"
"Hmm…No. No, I don't think so," said Ohgi after a thoughtful moment. "To tell you the truth, I think that we're beginning to grow on the Major. Or, at least, he's seen the value in working with us. He's been increasingly helpful of late; he even wrote back to some contact of his back at his divisional headquarters and… Well, let's just say that we've been able to expand our training curriculum dramatically."
How much of that is Onoda's changing sympathies, I wondered, remembering the sour old cuss, and how much of that is a result of Kaguya's influence? Doubtless his own ambitions are mixed into all of this as well.
"I want to know more about that, but let's finish the discussion of the refugee issue," I said, turning the conversation back. "You pair new graduates up with members of allied bands, and…?"
"And we give them a few weeks of freedom to roam the land and meet people," Naoto replied, smoothly cutting back into the conversation. "Then, they come back and tell me about who they met, where they went, what they saw, and so forth. And then we reach out to Junji, who does his best to scrape together what the Britannians are saying or doing or talking about in that region, and we ask Onoda what the JLF is doing in the same region."
"Once we've got a pile of intelligence," Ohgi put in, "we assemble a group spearheaded by the trainees who went to that region along with whatever refugees want to go with them and send them out with a radio, some supplies, and instructions to set up a camp. Once they radio back and inform us that they've found a foothold and elected a leader from the group of trained soldiers with them, we give them the order to stand ready and a few objectives, but otherwise let them do as they feel best, so long as they keep their heads down."
"Honestly," Naoto continued, and I could almost see him shrugging, "that's more or less what they would do anyway, and I think it's probably for the best. It preserves an element of control, and everybody knows to keep their hands off the Britannians for now, but it also allows the commanders on the ground to adapt to what they're seeing. Hence, regionalization.
"And in the case of Ohgi's proposed route, Lieutenant Matsuda has control over the region north of Katashina and south of Oze. He's got somewhere around a hundred people with him and is partnered with two bands, each less than fifty strong, operating independently in the same area."
"I see…" I paused, fighting against my exhaustion as I tried to figure out what I felt about this development.
Only three hours ago, Ichiya had shared the ritual last drink with Lieutenant Koichi, who had volunteered to serve as her second, as the consequence of an officer operating without oversight in a manner not dissimilar to that which Naoto and Ohgi had just finished describing. Just nodding along to their report made me feel like a hypocrite, condemning one while applauding the other. On the other hand, the flexible structure my fellow triumvirs were describing sounded appropriate for a geographically dispersed operation, as they were running. Besides, they enjoyed equal standing to me, and surely they best understood the organs they had established.
And, I couldn't help but admit to myself, I just made peace with Naoto after months of icy politeness. Do I really want to inflame relations again now, not even an hour after we let our last disagreement rest?
"So," I continued, moving past the uncomfortable concern and into the safer waters of practicality, "do you think that's enough of a base to provide concealment and lodging for over a thousand people a week? Assuming we split the traffic currently routed through Takasaki evenly, that's the probable low-end of what they can expect."
"Sounds like we'll need more routes, then," Ohgi replied, "or maybe more branches coming off the Takasaki and Ibaraki routes? No need for everyone to go to one place before scattering," he reasoned.
The conversation continued along that topic for a while longer as we worked out a number of potential routes and, equally importantly, destinations for the people fleeing Shinjuku Ghetto. So far, just over five thousand people had made the journey from the Tokyo Settlement to the hinterlands of Gunma Prefecture, with the very old, the very young, and intact family units overwhelmingly represented in the refugees. While this reduced the at-risk population in the Ghetto itself, it meant that the first waves of refugees generally represented a short-term burden wherever they ended up. So far, Naoto had done his best to keep the resettled populations spread out across the prefecture to keep that burden as light as possible, but that added a further element of complexity.
"Alright," I said an hour later, leaning back from my desk and massaging some feeling back into my cramping hand, "I think that's a good stopping point for today. Ohgi, you mentioned that The School is expanding its curriculum? Can you tell me more about that?"
"Not just the curriculum," Ohgi corrected, an old yet still vibrant passion enriching his voice as the topic turned towards education, "but also the number of trainees, the training staff, and the grounds of The School itself."
"Well," I replied, smiling at the renewed enthusiasm audible in his voice, "tell me more. What have you been up to these last few weeks?"
"Alright, so, I decided to shift the entirety of the last two cohorts over to cadre," Ohgi began, "especially as we started getting feedback from your Commission in Shinjuku, especially Mister Asahara, from Captain Yoshi over in Ibaraki, and since Major Onoda started writing to his superiors for more and varied support."
"Oh?" My ears perked up at that last item. "That's a surprise. It was less than two weeks ago that he managed to shake loose that mortar for training purposes."
"Perhaps not that big of a surprise," said Ohgi, "since most of that greater support is, in fact, more infantry mortars. So far, twelve of the Type 16's – 81 millimeter man-portable – have been delivered, along with six hundred bombs. They're handy little things, and the current cohort is learning how to break them down, build them up, and sight them in four minutes or less."
"Outstanding." That was good news indeed. Paired with the heavy machine guns that Kaguya had begun shipping to us for emplacement in the hardened aerial and streetside "nests" throughout Shinjuku, we were starting to develop quite the heavy weapons load for an army lacking any industrial base. "What else?"
"Our good friends in the 3rd Division have graciously lent us a pair of Type 62 heavy machine guns for training purposes," Ohgi wryly replied, making his opinion of Major Onoda's parent unit abundantly clear. "Quite generous indeed, since as far as I know nobody asked for such a loan, but… Well, they and their ammunition will be handy. From the same source, we have also received… Wait, hang on…"
There was a sound of rustling papers, and then Ohgi triumphantly returned with a cry of "Six! Six deliveries of demolition supplies, including blasting caps, remote detonators, detonation cord, eight crates of anti-personnel mines, and supplies of plastic explosives adding up to a total of two hundred and fifty kilograms!"
He paused and cleared his throat. "Frankly, the sudden burst of generosity from the JLF, while welcome, has begun to worry me. It wasn't so long ago that they refused to hand over more than a handful of shoulder-fired rockets and rifles."
"We did provide them with enough spare parts to outfit a platoon of Knightmares," I pointed out, "to say nothing of how many recruits the 3rd Division specifically gained from Niigata, in no small part thanks to our operation there. Besides that, I suspect that our new friend has begun to exert pressure."
"Ah, yes," Ohgi agreed, chuckling slightly. "I can see why that might be the case. I'm glad the negotiations are finally paying off."
Naoto and Ohgi knew that I had made an arrangement with a highly placed member of Kyoto House in exchange for food support and munitions, but that was about the extent of their knowledge of Kaguya. I hadn't wanted any rumor of the… what was she?
The arch-traitoress? I considered, remembering the names I'd heard bandied about Shinjuku for the Numbers Advisory Committee that served as the public face for the Six Houses. No, that doesn't fit… Even if she was a Britannian collaborator in truth, she's barely older than me. She would have been just seven or eight when Japan fell. A seven year old cannot commit treason. Especially not a girl growing up with the benefits and blindspots of a noble education. The fact that she's found the willingness to operate independently against her erstwhile masters, Britannia and Japanese alike, is truly amazing.
So, if not an arch-traitoress, then… Perhaps the Empress-in-Waiting? I smiled at the thought. It was ludicrous, even though Kaguya had all but named herself as such at the end of our first and only meeting. As if that title doesn't come with its own litany of problems, first and foremost the knives of every Britannian assassin the Homeland can offer. Not to mention that the old Republican oligarchs would probably be less than happy to see the Imperial House return.
Either way, I had no intention of filling them in any further until we met in person. Much as I trusted Junji and his prowess with radios, I didn't want to run the risk of some Britannian signal intelligence officer picking up any hint of "Lady Sophie Sumeragi" being involved in armed rebellion.
"Indeed," I nodded at the invisible audience seated a hundred and forty kilometers away. "But I suspect that you're right to be worried, Ohgi. If the JLF were still a state military, I would say that it sounds like they just received funding for the latest and greatest and are clearing stocks to make way for the new model.
"As the Republic of Japan no longer exists, it does sound as if they are building towards something and have decided to share their toys with everybody who might be inclined to join in."
"I can see that being the case," said Ohgi, "considering how they also were kind enough to ship us several crates of fragmentation grenades, a crate of incendiary grenades, six radio sets from the Eighties, a generator…"
His voice tapered off for a moment, and I heard the rustling of paper once more. "Well, I suppose the details aren't that important, but they also gave us several hundred carbines, submachine guns, and pistols, plus enough dextroamphetamine and codeine phosphate to keep an entire battalion zooted up for a month. Oh, and seven hundred kilograms of expired canned pre-Conquest rations, can't forget those.
"So, either they're clearing all of the expired detritus out of some supply dump, or…"
"Or someone is expecting or hoping for something quite flashy to happen quite soon," I said, giving voice to both of our thoughts. "And all of this is coming specifically from the 3rd Division? Naoto, are any of your allied bands getting handouts from the JLF as well?"
"Not that anybody's willing to admit," Naoto answered, "although we're making sure to share the wealth, now that we've got it."
"Smart" I said, fighting down a yawn. It had already been a long day, although it was just after noon, and I could really use a coffee about now. "Alright, I'll get in touch with Yoshi and ask him about safehouses in Mito, Utsunomiya, and Nikko. I'll also send a scout unit out west to Yamanashi with an eye towards finding a route north through Matsumoto, although I am still reserving judgment on that one. I'm not certain about the wisdom of running a ratline so close to the Fuji Mines."
"Well," Naoto reasoned, "even if we don't route through Yamanashi, more intelligence on the Fuji Special District can hardly hurt. Anyway, I'll send out word to Lieutenant Matsuda instructing him to start finding places to stash incoming refugees, and the same to Lieutenants Hiroyuki and Shigeo, who are both operating north of Ueda. If we end up routing people through Nagano, they'll be best placed to receive."
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "Other than that…"
I swatted down the urge to wring my hands like some guilty messenger bearing ill tidings. Not that the petty victory made me feel any better about the news I was about to deliver.
I took a deep breath. "Naoto… I got a call from our producer friend an hour ago; you know the one. He's apparently got a source somewhere in the staff of Thornton International, one with access to the week's scheduled flights. Diethard was snooping into some starlet or whoever who Clovis invited for a visit to the Area, but when he got that list he saw a chartered flight out of New Leicester on it…"
For a moment, all I could hear over the radio was the sound of heavy breathing.
"My father… It has to be my father, coming to Area 11. The airport at New Leicester is tiny, almost nobody uses it for anything but local flights. For someone to charter a direct flight from there to Area 11?" Naoto sighed. "It's him, no question about it."
Somehow, his sigh, almost of exasperation, failed to set my heart at ease.
"Will Kallen be alright?" I wanted to ask, the question leaping to my lips with alarming speed, seemingly bypassing my brain in the process. It was all I could do to close my mouth before it could escape the tip of my tongue.
According to Inoue's status reports, her cadet training was proceeding swimmingly, but the arrival of her father could throw everything into the garbage! She has a difficult enough time remaining civil around Britannians who didn't have a personal hand in abandoning her and her family to the tenderness of the Settlement. Asking for her to remain civil and collected in front of her father…
The potential fallout from a mishandled confrontation between Lord Stadtfeld and his rebellious heiress was practically incalculable, which explained how worried the prospect made me.
"Does this present a complication?" I asked instead.
Of course, at the same time, Ohgi asked "Do we need to go get Kallen, Naoto?"
I felt my heart jump at Ohgi's mention of her name despite myself.
Just another reason to accelerate the evacuation of Shinjuku, I thought grimly. We can't afford any single point of failure anywhere. Not Kallen, not me, not even Shinjuku Ghetto.
"Hmm…no, I don't think so." Naoto replied, and I felt the tension begin to ebb out of me. "At least, not immediately. Dad's… got his own things to do. I don't think we'll cross his radar, not like that. He's not above pulling a few strings or twisting some arms, and given Kallen's whole deal with the ROTC, well…I certainly don't envy whoever her school pushes in his way. But I doubt he'll be showing up in Shinjuku, Tanya, and certainly not out in Gunma.
"Still…" I could almost see the sudden anxiety crossing his face, the stress matching my own at the thought of an angry Britannian aristocrat dragging Kallen before Clovis for judgment, "I guess I'm going to need to tell Mom, huh…?
Wait… I stopped, reorienting towards Naoto's concern. I'm going about this all wrong. Naoto got his initial resources and contacts via his father, didn't he? I even suspected early on that this whole organization was all a stalking horse set up by Lord Statfeld. Was… no, why is he coming?
The knot in my chest so suddenly tied began to loosen.
This isn't an Organization matter; this is a family matter. In which case…
"That would be wise," I replied briskly, trying not to sigh with relief or roll my eyes at Naoto's curious blindspot towards his relatives.
Judging by his relationship with Kallen, Naoto had a bad tendency to squirrel away information from his family that they really should know in the name of 'their own good.' Remembering how Hitomi had reacted after I punched out Lady Stadtfeld, I doubted she'd stand for it.
"Please convey my greetings to Mrs. Kozuki as well, when you tell her the happy news, and also my regrets. And…" I hesitated, before adding, "I am… glad to hear from you again, Naoto."
"I will, Tanya," the leader of the Kozuki Organization promised. "Until we meet again, walk with the gods."
"Stay safe, Tanya," urged Ohgi, and then I was alone, with only the empty static of a quiet channel buzzing in the communications room for company.