Ken wets his lips with sake, giving me a half-lidded side glance. The corners of his mouth lift in a gentle curl. “You want one of my tattoos?”
I pat his arm. “Yes, I trust you’ll do a good job. And besides, I don’t feel like a real Showgun without a horimono.”
Ken’s smile shortens. “But you know they hurt, right? And they take forever.”
Pain I can handle. My Hound genes can offset that. “Does it have to be the whole tattoo? Maybe just a part on my back? Without too much color?”
Ken sips his glass with a puckered brow. “I could. It’s not quite the usual thing I do, but it’s doable. Also…” He lowers his glass. “We’d need to talk about what you want on your tattoo. It’s gotta reflect who you are, you know.”
My gaze flicks away from the sake bottles. “My last name means ‘fall mountain’. We can do something with that.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want that to be the whole tattoo, do you?” Ken asks. “I mean this thing has to cover your back.”
“I’ve never really thought what represents me though,” I say.
Ken cranes his neck to peer at my back. “Whatever it is, I have to squish it in from about here…” He unlinks his arm to put his hand just below my shoulder. “To about here.” His hand rests just above my rear. “If you’re comfortable with that.”
“Sounds fine to me, but what about the design?”
“Well, we could talk about that later. I’ll sketch some concepts up for you then call you. But let’s not stand here all night!” Ken tugs on my sleeve. “There’s so much fun to sneak in before the ceremony starts, Jun.”
The two of us make a whole round to every attraction. We watch the taiko drummers play, a quartet of dancers twirl with their parasols, and two long-bearded men play the shamisen. A blunt-nose caterer gives us green tea yakisoba off the grill, glazed yakitori stickers, and pork gyoza.
Ken glances down at his watch. “I should head to the stage to check on some things. You will be fine on your own, right?”
I swallow my mouthful and nod.
He unhooks his arm from me and rushes into the throng of people. “Be back in a bit, Jun!”
I finish eating and walk back to the punch table, looking around to see if I can find any other assassins I know. Assassins and hybrids wear traditional clothes. IT wear suits and formal attire. You’d think that with that distinction, it would be really easy, but the IT worker to assassin ratio is ridiculous here. Suits and skirts flood my eyes like a black sea. I reach for a glass.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, huh?”
My heart skips. That voice… I glance behind me.
Eyes on me, my friend, Shig, approaches the punch table. He wears a tuxedo, not a hakama, since he’s not an assassin. I have to admit, his appearance is on point as always: combed-back pompadour, crinkle free sleeves, shined black shoes, and sandalwood wafting from his skin.
I turn around to face him, leaning against the table. “I was going to come look for you. How was Halong Bay?”
“Foggy as hell. My friend kept raving about the view and I get there and I’m like I can’t even see shit. When the fog clears though, it’s gorgeous. But enough about me…” Shig reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. “I get back here and everyone at PoleControl is losing their shit because you and a shit ton of assassins are leaving out of the blue. And then I’m hearing stuff about Mai getting shot.” With a sharp fsst, a smooth flame kindles from the lighter. He lights his cigarette. “What’s going on?”
I fill my glass with another spoonful of punch. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I look over my shoulder briefly, then beckon to him with a finger for him to come closer. “He’s blackmailing me, and possibly some other people.”
His eyebrows crinkle up. “Blackmail? But Mai—”
“He’s not blackmailing Mai. Getting shot is part of the reason she’s quitting. But others might be a case of foul play.”
Shig raises an eyebrow. He scoffs, takes a drag of his cigarette, and exhales a thick plume of smoke like a dragon breathing fire. “Huh. I had a feeling. ‘Cuz wasn’t Jiro and some of them supposed to get promotions?”
“Exactly. I’m going to try to talk to at least one or two of them tonight and see what’s going on.”
“But wait, wait, wait now.” Shig puts up a hand. “Who’s got you muzzled?”
I look around briefly, then say, “Genji.”
Making a face, Shig dabs the ash from the tip of his cigarette. “Pretty boy? Spoiled little shit doesn’t have any business telling you what can and can’t do.”
I bring my glass to my lips. “That’s where you come in. I need some info on him.”
“Dare I ask what kind of info you want?” Shig asks.
“I need you to track his moves for a little bit. Go through old record files. Look for anything that seems suspicious and tell me.”
Shig takes another drag. Tobacco-scented smoke spills from his lips. “I’ll tell you what…Give me a few days to settle back at the office and I’ll see what I can look up for you at work.”
“Thank you so much,” I say. “You have no idea—”
“Oh I’ve got one. And I don’t like Pretty Boy anymore than you do,” Shig says. “He’s not getting away with this shit.”
I make a face. “Stop staying his name. You might summon his ass here.”
“Speak of the devil and you might just call him, eh?” Shig laughs a little, but then he stops abruptly looking past me. “Erm, I think we may have—”
“Oh Hound, I didn’t see you there.” The Geisha arrives in hakama and his trademark demure smile. He gives a polite bow. “And Shig. Halong Bay was good?”
Shig downs the rest of his drink. “IT vacations are too damn short.”
“Ah, but at least you’re allowed to take them, no?” Then the Geisha’s gaze slides to me briefly. “Shig do you mind if I have a moment with Jun? It’ll only be a second.”
Shig looks at me, and I nod. He sips at his drink. “Alright. If I don’t see you later, then I’ll call you or something.” He walks away.
The Geisha’s light brown eyes follow Shig until he’s out of earshot. Then he brings his glass to his lips, his gaze flitting over me. “You look very nice tonight, Hound.”
I bring up my glass to my lips. “So do you, Geisha.”
“I haven’t forgotten about you,” He says.
“Should I be glad?”
“Oh Hound, can we forget the rivalries for one night?” He lifts his glass, grinning. “Tonight we drink in your honor.”
I hold in my scoff and drink down more punch. “I can only hope that getting into the Silent Seven is worth all this.” And that you die.
At this, his grin shrinks a little, but then he shrugs and chuckles. “You still think this is just about that promotion?”
Well, I did until you said that. “But you made me turn down the promotion.”
He swishes his glass a little, then looks into my face. “As disappointed as I am, I knew my chances were slim, Jun. You’re clearly my mother’s favorite lapdog. Rest assured, it doesn’t really matter who gets that promotion tonight, but should the position truly be given to someone can barely control their own weapon?”
I scowl into my punch.
I’m saved from a response by taiko drummers processing down the cobbled path. Their drums drown out all the talking around us. Mai follows them in a blue cloud-patterned kimono, head up high and waving with her good arm. She’s flanked by two lean ice-faced men in hakama, twins, who move as if they are the shadow of the other. Gin and Tei. The next is a woman who barely the five feet height mark, Nami. She spreads a hand fan open to cool herself. And veil her coy feline smile. Close behind, a brawny male, Ichiro, waves and blows kisses to the crowd while next to him his skinnier ponytailed companion, Yoshi, shakes his head at the sight. The last, Tamotsu walks beside Ken’s father, a thin wispy man with thick brows and creases in his face that run as deep a
s the rings in a tree.
My heart writhes against my ribs. There they go…living the life I’ll never have.
Around me the crowd falls in step behind the procession. I look back at the Geisha, but he's gone. Good riddance. But I suppose that I shouldn’t be standing around either. I slip my way through the crowd. Everyone pours in around the stage platform. The Silent Seven climb up first and line up in the center of the stage. The drummers line up behind them, clacking their drumsticks together.
Ken’s father comes onto the stage last, adjusting the mic to his height. He clears his throat. “Welcome. Before I begin, can I have all the retirees come up to the front?”
Murmurs flood around. People stand aside to form a path leading to the stage. Retirees file down into the created pathway. And as expected, there are a lot of assassin faces I’ve seen around at Pole Control—abnormal amount of assassin faces, actually. Usually, a retirement party is about five people max, but two or three is more the norm and even then retirees are often mixed occupations. About ten people are here coming down the aisle, and out of them only one is IT, and only one assassin is pregnant. The other retirees are about my age, young with promising careers. I spot Jiro in the middle of the line. An antsy spring fills my legs, and it takes all my restraint not to cut right in line. Protocol dictates that I have to go behind the last assassin in line. Damn it Jiro, why couldn’t you be at the end? But my gaze finds Mimi at the end instead. She’ll have to do. I peer down both ways of the walkway before joining Mimi at the back of the line, then I whisper, “Hey, Mimi.”
Mimi squints at me over my shoulder. “Akiyama? You are retiring?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Mimi squishes her lips together. “Why are you asking? We’ve never—”
“There’s a lot of people retiring today who had plenty reason to keep their job,” I say. “You don’t find that strange?”
She looks away. “It’s not my business why others quit.”
“But why are you quitting?”
“Why do you want to know, Akiyama?”
“You don’t have to tell me any details,” I say. “All I want to know is if you’re quitting because you want to, or if someone else is making you. I didn’t want to leave.”
Mimi is quiet. The front of our procession finally reaches the steps, then Mimi finally whispers, “I feel like if you’re asking that question, then you already know the answer.”
“Then you’re being—”
“Don’t look into it, Akiyama,” Mimi says. “It’s not worth the trouble.” She steps onto the stage platform. “For either of us.”
Sorry. I can’t do that, Mimi.
Stagehands line us up by our last names. I’m split away from Mimi and put at the end of the front row next to an assassin I don’t know. The Silent Seven stand off to the side in two rows. Three in the front. Four in the back. Mai front and center.
Ken’s father looks at us with a warm smile. Into the mic, he says, “I must admit I’m a bit conflicted now. It always pains me to let one of our own go so early and there are so many of you all this time, but we are not here for sentimentality, are we?” He gestures to us. “Today we are here to acknowledge the service to a few of our members.”
Applause breaks out among the crowd. Ken's father waits until it dies down before speaking again. “Before we officially let you go, we’d like to award you gifts from our very own Silent Seven.”
My breath catches. Does that mean Mai is going to give a gift too? I suppose that makes sense. Even though Mai retires today, she’s not considered “true” retired until someone new steps in.
Tamotsu breaks out of line to stand in front of Mai, a small box in his hand. "First I would like to give a disclaimer… not all of the Silent Seven were convinced this was a serious thing.”
Chuckles from the crowd tack onto the end of his words.
Tamotsu looks at his feet briefly, his lips making a lip before he looks in her eyes. “I remember when you first came. No one was ever convinced that you’d even get past training in Red Dragon Academy. Gods knew you never followed the rules.” He smiles. “And you still barely do. But I’ve always admired your strong will, relentless determination to pursue your target and keep your word no matter what. Yet, even with all the enhancements we put our bodies through, I understand that we aren’t entirely superhuman, and I acknowledge that our jobs put us in harm’s way daily. And unfortunately it nearly put you in your grave.” He pauses, holding the hand of her uninjured hand. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I’d do without you now. I respect that you choose to put your health first. And so I give you this gift charm in remembrance of your integrity.”
He opens the box. A violet charm rests on black velvet. In gold the word Integrity runs from top to bottom.
Mai runs her fingers over the cool silk, and then hugs him. Applause rumbles through the crowd. I can’t even hear my own claps. But I suppose that’s a good thing. It’s rare for any assassin to be well-loved, even if they’re famous.
The twins step forward next with their boxes, approaching an assassin on the other end. Then Nami presents hers to Mimi. Then another. Then another.
Every passing second, my heart thumps my ribs even harder. It’s hard to concentrate on what everyone is saying.
Then it’s my turn.
Tamotsu holds Mai’s things so that she can hold a charm of her own. She approaches me, heels clopping on the stage. Her light brown eyes study me carefully as if there’s text written on my face. Then her cool exterior thaws into a warm smile. “I remember when your mom had you. She let me hold you. I remember being amazed because you were so tiny. You never seemed like you were going to get any bigger. I was there when you took you first steps. And when you first went to grade school. And when you went to middle school. And all your graduations…” She wipes her eye with her thumb. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think that there was anything that I wasn’t there for. I wanted to be there for everything that your mother couldn’t be there for.” Mai sniffs. “I was around so much, that you started to calling me Momma instead of her. And sometimes it really did feel like you were my child.”
My eyes sting and water. It’s true. Everything that my mom didn’t do, or couldn’t give, Mai did herself. Even though Tammy took over when my mom died, I still may as well have been Mai’s child.
“I don’t know what it was that drove me to take you on that day, but I’m glad I did and that I’ve been the one to see you.” She holds out her box which rests atop a slab cloaked in velvet. “I know it seems weird to think of an assassin as compassionate. Our profession hardly lends itself to acts of kindness. And from the outside, it might seem laughable that we could ever have any compassion in us. But don’t forget that not every fight needs a gun, and we certainly don’t need to take all lives to be victorious. Sometimes the best way to kill an enemy is to let them share their burdens with us and make them a friend. So my last gift to you is this…”
Mai’s charm is white with silver lettering that reads Compassion. She unveils the slab of glossy black marble with gold writing itched into it.
"A Showgun past or present, always keeps her word."
I take it and meet her gaze. Thickness lodges itself in my windpipe. I can’t talk, but there’s so much I want to say. Years of gratitudes, experiences, discipline are knotting up in my vocal chords. Instead, I embrace her, burying my face in the neck of her kimono. “I’m going to miss you.”
Mai’s arms wind around me. Her brown hair feathers against my neck, as she traces gentle circles on my back. “Miss me? Jun, I’m never leaving you.”
But it feels like you are. In her arms I still feel like the same naive girl who shivered in her sandals in the doorway of Mai’s office: no experience, no real ideas of what it actually takes to be an assassin, just barely lost my mother, and on the brink of failing all my classes in school. And she turned that all around. I’m not ready to let go. My grip on her tightens. Tears push
over my eyelids. You’ve done so much for me, and now I’m lying to you.
Mai steps back, patting me on the arm. Just behind her back, at the front of the crowd, the Geisha glares at me. My stomach turns over. I can only guess he doesn’t appreciate Mai’s entire speech about being like her child. I look away.
The stage gets quiet all of a sudden, and for a moment I’m confused why. But then I see all the hopeful and focused eyes on Mai, and I realize that everyone must be waiting for her to announce the next leader of the Silent Seven.
But she does not.
She nods to the Shogun and leaves the stage without saying another word.
Mutability (North Hall)
Mutability: 2-0 'Ah'
Mutability
1. Liable to change
~~~
“One who knows others is wise.
One who knows himself is enlightened.
To overcome others is strong.
To overcome oneself the will of power.”
—Lao Tzu
~~~
Sssssshh! The lock snarls and whirls. A white door opens.
Heaven slips through and walks through the entryway. She pauses at the mail chute to thumb through her mail. Without looking up she stops at the end to reach for the light switch out of habit and she finds that it’s already on. She looks up.
Flame is at the dining room table having char-licked tri-tip kababs over basmati rice and salad. He gives her a smile and a two-fingered salute. “Good evening, my lady.”
A note of warmth winds through her at his presence. Heaven lays her work bag on the faux leather couch. “You’re back already? Did you find the puzzle box?”
Flame’s smiles shortens. “I did, but it was a fake.”
Vicissitude: Yang Side (Lost Earth Series) Page 11