“Confidence.” Elder Nagao smiled.
“Tch.” Naizo folded his arms. “That’s what they all say before getting put in the dirt like the fucking rest…”
“Don’t be bitter.” The female samurai said, a hint of irritation evident in her tone.
“No bitterness here, Beatrice; I just don’t understand why we’re wasting time with this kid when we already have what we wanted!”
“Such an ignorant fool…” Elder Nagao said aloud to the astonishment of all present.
“What, father?”
The Elder simply glared at Naizo until his heir felt himself become silenced as he looked away in defeat.
“Now,” Elder Nagao began while looking at me earnestly. He valued mutual respect more than anything else; his pride meant more to him than his own empire. “What is your name, young man?”
“… Tavon.”
“Why did you steal from Ovo’s operation?”
I felt a surge of anger when remembering my own vendetta. “He hurt my friends.”
He grinned, a scheme forming within his mind.
“Welcome to this family, Tavon Nagao…”
23
Change This Game Around
THE NAGAO BEGAN AS A TRIBE that initially migrated to the Citadel before the nation had been unified under the direction of President Derek. Because of their sheer size and expertise in combat, the Nagao had survived the passage of time to emerge as a clan still untouched by the government, a remnant of what society once was.
They’d maintained their position on the fringes of the Citadel for decades, remaining a major roadblock to Meiziki’s growth as a criminal super power. The Nagao once believed that the most talented warrior should be selected to lead the clan. Elder Nagao, fond of his firstborn, decided to make his seat into a hereditary position while honing his body to defend his title from potential rivals. The Elder had borne a son other than Naizo, a samurai who’d turned his back on the clan’s survival in search of personal gain.
Naizo was next in line to inherit the throne, but his future subordinates weren’t exactly convinced of his competence.
Despite their future leader’s repugnant disposition, Nagao had been the host to exactly three loyal families who’d served the Elder and his ancestors since their original immigration. Rokshasa belonged to the Gia House and Beatrice heralded from the House of Kai. The third family was known as the Shikon and happened to be particularly reclusive, as they led an existence on the very rim of the Citadel. I would come to meet their heir at a later time… someone quite a lot like myself.
--
Under the Elder’s orders, the three family representatives constructed a gym intended to train future warriors of the Nagao. Rokshasa, a samurai my age who’d been seated next to me on the ride, had been the most enthusiastic in his training. Despite his hostile demeanor, the warrior from Gia quickly demonstrated that he was actually a very compassionate and loyal person. While Naizo and Beatrice shrugged off introducing me to my new home, Rokshasa took an interest and answered my questions with more patience than I’d expected. He eventually decided that my skills deserved to be tested in the gym.
“How did you guys know I robbed Ovo?” I asked him on that day.
He shook his head in disappointment. “That man… is the grandson of the Elder—and the definition of a moron.”
“He… kills kids.”
Rokshasa stopped to look at me.
He was a rather large, bulky individual known for arming himself with heavier weaponry and compounded protection. At a range, Rokshasa was a feared marksman with a rifle; up close, he devastated his opponents and incurred horrific imagery as he used a double-bladed ax to cut through them. Other than the Elder, this samurai stood to become the most powerful fighter within the Nagao syndicate.
“You should understand better the effect war has. There are no innocent parties.” Rokshasa said coldly.
“War?” I asked.
The young samurai said nothing as he led me into a training room housed within walls made from a combination of wood and a dense paper substance. It was unlike anything I’d seen yet.
The Nagao had sectioned off the place: at the far end, I noticed what appeared to be an armory; closer, there was significant space cleared and set up to encourage sparring; adjacent to us, there had been assembled a series of free weights on benches designed to isometrically target specific muscle groups.
Rokshasa, unlike most of the Nagao, believed in building his body as he trained. He’d never learned any formal martial art; the samurai had instead faced combat so often and sparred so frequently that he’d developed his own methods of fighting. It wasn’t long before Rokshasa became part of the reason the Meiziki Syndicate were so reluctant to move on their rivals.
Naturally, before we’d been in the gym for more than three minutes, the samurai demanded a sparring session. And prior to this encounter, I’d become fairly confident in my own skills; I’d trained under Professor Norlin, after all.
I agreed. What kid my age, aside from Brock, could possibly compete now?
I watched as Rokshasa removed his padded armor and kabuto to expose raven black hair he tied into a ponytail. His beard had grown into a thick mass overshadowing most of the warrior’s features despite being only seventeen. Even without the armor, Rokshasa was equipped with a frame dwarfing my own.
An opponent this size… with his practical skill…
Rokshasa beat the shit out of me, a prized fighter.
I’d only used my fists, but my strikes had no effect on this kid. Rokshasa absorbed most of my attacks before pummeling me into the earth.
“I expected this.” He said after the first time.
Rokshasa continued to mercilessly beat me, over and over again, every day until I became stronger on my own. Although the Elder hadn’t spoke on my role as a Nagao clan member, Rokshasa decided to take full liberty in training me to become just as lethal as he was.
Nagao was known for their exceptional defense, as they’d had to defend their territory since its inception so many years ago. Thus, their best warrior had evolved into a force way beyond my own power at the time. Rokshasa had made me feel weak, but he insisted: “You’ll get better.”
My life had become cut off from the outside world in the Citadel, and soon all I knew was the constantly increasing intensity of my own training.
“A great battle will one day break out…” Rokshasa insisted seemingly all the time. “Nagao has become fragile, undisciplined; we need someone like you, Tavon.”
I believe he came to regret those words.
Rokshasa attempted to teach me the use of various weapons: katanas, kusarigama, spears, and even axes. I couldn’t learn them. I’ve never been skilled with a blade or any weapon that’s not a bat or my own fists.
This concerned Elder Nagao, who believed that someone who couldn’t even learn the art of swordplay had no place in his army. He confessed his worries to Rokshasa, who relayed their conversation to me:
“After you took him captive from the Uesugi and Shimazu, without informing me, I might add…”
“I’m sorr—”
“His performance has been… poor, Rokshasa.”
“I apologize, milord—it’s just that he’s an orphan…”
“An orphan?”
“He’s not accustomed to these sort of things, sire, but he can be trained—I assure you!”
Elder Nagao remained unconvinced.
As a result, Rokshasa and Beatrice both decided to see if my talents lie in marksmanship. They instructed me on every weapon system possessed by the syndicate. After they noticed that I’d terrible accuracy with both rifles and handguns, Beatrice suggested I fire at targets with a light machinegun.
Even though I kept fucking up my situation even more, the two of them were growing to like me.
“You’re humble…” Beatrice said after I’d wasted over two hundred rounds and missed the indicated target nearly every time.
Having felt gene
rally incompetent, I became hopeful and took it as a compliment but inquired anyways: “What do you mean?”
She chuckled. “I mean, most men would be going through some kinda ego death right now, you feel me? Cause you suck, friend!” Beatrice exclaimed.
Rokshasa, however, didn’t share in her more blissful attitude. She seemed to enjoy being around my presence, though I didn’t speak much.
“Tavon!” He shouted. “You’ve gotta stop fucking around—are you a warrior or not?!”
“Rok!” Beatrice scolded him in my defense and to my surprise.
“The Nagao have no use for thieves.” His eyes bore into my own. “We still expect you to prove yourself…”
I tried.
I’d thought I was pretty talented, but there wasn’t anything I could offer the Nagao: a clan on the verge of destruction if Meiziki, the strongest syndicate in the Fourth Quadrant, expanded any further.
After months of failing both marksmanship and melee training, Beatrice attempted to comfort me one afternoon.
“Don’t take it all too personally…” She said. I’d noticed she really wanted to make eye contact with me.
I was nervous; I stared at the ground while she kept speaking. “Naizo is a weak excuse for a leader, so Rokshasa feels responsible for preparing the clan for combat. Naizo’s older brother, Mendo…” She ruminated disappointedly. “He loves glory, but he’s never desired leadership.”
“Mendo Meiziki?”
“Once Mendo Nagao.” Beatrice replied in a scholarly manner. She dressed in only a shirt and jeans, sported rounded sunglasses, and happened to possess the most mellow demeanor of any member of Nagao. “That guy’s a total freak…” She snorted. “Too powerful for his own damn good.”
--
The morning I’d turned seventeen, Rokshasa startled me awake with a strong hook to the abdomen.
“Tavon Nagao!” He bellowed.
I’d sparred with him enough to partially understand how the samurai fought. I recovered by distancing myself from Rokshasa slightly before moving into a handstand allowing me to pivot as I sent a kick to the warrior’s head!
With rapid reflexes, Rokshasa absorbed the blow by using the outside of his forearm and stepped into a boxer’s stance while hastily jabbing in my direction.
He’d taken me off guard, causing me to instinctually retreat and fall right into his next tactic. Rokshasa closed the distance and swung at me faster than I could block; powerful strikes rang across my features and forced me into an inevitable retreat! For a moment, I bore down and attempted to deliver an uppercut while ignoring another attack from the side.
Rokshasa simply took the hit, charged forward, and shoved me before hooking me in the side of my jaw as I staggered away weakly…
“Don’t you understand?” The samurai growled. “This place is not a paradise for you, kid!”
I regained composure and noticed the figure of Elder Nagao spectating on a nearby hill. He was very still, focused…
The scene had been mostly vacated, indicating to me that this had all been set up. I was still young and naïve, and I’d thought that a family would have patience. I was a great fighter; I knew I had talent, even if I hadn’t been able to defeat Rokshasa!
“Tavon!” His eyes widened as he seemed to be imploring me through his kabuto, which had been crafted to resemble a lion’s reddened maul. “This is the day the Elder judges you!” Rokshasa indicated a table he’d positioned to his left displaying every weapon he’d trained me in the use of, including a handgun. “The Nagao cannot afford to be led by the weak, Tavon. Thus far…” He looked at the ground while lowering his tone. “You’ve proven that you’re unfit to be a warrior.”
Rokshasa withdrew his ax from the table and brandished it before stalking forward. “Elder Nagao desires vanguards, not children!”
He charged forward and swung his weapon down vertically and with impressive force! It split the ground below me as I dashed to the side and, without thinking, I used the momentum of my body to hurl a fist into the side of Rokshasa’s helmet! The attack nearly tore open my knuckles but created enough impact to cause the samurai to stagger backward slightly.
I moved in and focused on removing my opponent’s helmet. Without armor, my speed could overcome his sluggish attempts to strike me!
Or so I thought…
As I stepped in, Rokshasa performed a rapid pirouette before slamming the flat side of the ax against my face, breaking my nose and knocking me to the ground. The samurai proceeded to stand over me while hefting his weapon high in the air.
“Stand, Tavon Nagao! If you must die a Nagao, you must perish with your honor intact. We follow traditions ignored by today’s society, and you can join in them by atoning with your life!”
“Rokshasa!” I stood to reason with the warrior, but he swung in response in an effort to end me as painlessly as possible.
I moved to the side once again, but the samurai altered his stance before bringing the ax up and narrowly decapitating me as it veered just above my head. I felt rage; Rokshasa, like everyone else had, was betraying me.
This broke my illusion of what the “family” really was while also awakening in me something I didn’t understand. I’ve always had an ability, but explaining it makes me sound like I’m crazy.
The samurai became agitated as his repeated slashes met with the air. In frustration, a sweaty Rokshasa began removing his excessive body armor and allowed it all to crash heavily onto the ground surrounding my sleeping quarters. I could smell… alcohol?
He’d gotten drunk in order to cope with his mission. In a way, I felt sorry for someone I’d considered my friend… but I wouldn’t let him kill me. The Nagao had shown me what they were, and I refused to die under the title of a band of thugs I could grow to defeat.
Rokshasa was much faster now but simultaneously just as reckless, swinging with even more applied force as he chopped the air with abandon in pursuit of me.
“Just… die already, Tavon! Don’t make this harder than it is!”
He was losing focus.
Elder Nagao called in the distance, “Finish this, Rokshasa! Do NOT keep me waiting.”
The samurai nodded, regaining his composure, and he sprang forward with a dexterous lunge I hadn’t anticipated! I dodged backward and away, but the warrior proceeded to step in with his generated momentum and swung in an arc; a lethal move executed with the brilliance of a disciplined soldier.
But I understood him better now. The way he thought, his grandiose attacks that could’ve been shortened into more efficient strikes…
I sprawled onto the ground before drawing on all the anger contained within me to rotate toward Rokshasa before launching my heel into his solar plexus. While the samurai had been staggered, I postured, shifted into a forward stance, and charged in his direction!
They’d all been able to see It. What was in me. That’s why the samurai lost his will to fight at his best.
Before I’d gotten prepared to strike the warrior with everything I had left, my form had become aglow with some kind of black energy I used to not be able to see myself. My anatomy had altered; my strength multiplied at the same time my body expanded as I sprinted forward and punched Rokshasa! The famed samurai staggered away a few steps and then fell promptly onto his back.
I moved in to continue the battle but gasped when pushed back by only the open palm of Elder Nagao. He stared at me angrily and said, “You’ve been hiding this from us this whole time?! You have… the blessing?” His eyes grew wide with disturbingly hungry curiosity.
“I-I don’t know…” My body was beginning to ache all over with the most severe pain I’d ever experienced. I collapsed, and the clan leader appeared smug.
“A true Nagao, after all. Another son.” The Elder laughed heartily.
Rokshasa carefully stood up and replied with a sense of relief: “That was something else… it reminds me of…”
24
Tell Me What You Want Me To Do
<
br /> --
Janelle
--
“SO WHAT HAPPENS NOW?” Tavon asked while caressing the detective as they reclined together on her bed.
“You mean with us?”
“No.”
Aaliyah seemed slightly disappointed. He added, “What will they have you do with the disappearance of Shraeu?”
She sighed, “It’s a mess right now, Tavon. Looks like Kaust is going to get what he’s always wanted; that motherfucker might as well shoot for Major at this rate…”
“Hey…” Tavon replied. He decided he’d see what it was like to be more comforting. “You’ll pass him up.”
She smiled. “At least someone believes in me. Even Zola seems taken by his shady ass… looks like someone’s declaring war on the Bureau itself with the way things are going; it gets more dangerous every day. It can’t be Gaspul, but Noboros…”
“I don’t see why Noboros would want to go into the battl—”
“Unless someone paid them.” Aaliyah interrupted.
“A group that powerful… it would make sense.”
Is now the time for me to tell her about Angelos?
“So, you don’t understand what you’re power is besides being really strong?”
Tavon shrugged. “I don’t understand any of it—why or how I was born. All I know…” He paused. “Is that I can’t tell who the good guys are anymore. Not in the Citadel, at least.”
“Hmph. My thoughts exactly.” Aaliyah folded her arms while smiling and looking at her lover.
“So that’s why you didn’t arrest me; you really believe that it’s okay for some people to die.”
“Tavon, don’t go there.”
“Just trying to understand you.” He said in a humbler tone.
“What’s there to understand? You think I’m lying to you about myself?”
“I’m glad you’re not afraid of me. That’s all.”
Her features softened, and she thought, I think I get him now. –But…
“I like you.” Aaliyah said. “Genuinely.”
“I thought that was obvious.”
She shook her head. “When I was coming up, you know, my sister was like… my Person.” The detective spoke with emphasis. “We looked out for each other. We made sure neither of us got bullied when our dad decided to dip out of the picture. He was still fucked up in the head after fighting in the Gaspul Invasion, but he found time to teach me how to protect myself before his mind completely went.”
Angelos Odyssey Page 53