Atop a small hill, a well-worn
path leads to a white Victorian house with blue gables. A white-painted wooden
swing set sways slightly in the fenced front yard, and in the summertime, the
windows are flung open, white lace curtains fluttering in the wind, letting out
wafts of the scent of burnt lemon meringue and oil paint.
That day, six months since
I left, I walked up that same well-worn path, lined by tall birch trees. And I
came to a clearing, an empty space. I thought I had come to the wrong address. Nothing
but ashes remained of the house that once stood there. There was no sign of my
little sister.
I cannot look for you
yet. But I swear I will find you some day and return everything that was taken
away from you.
******
Tanaka
Mikai trudged through the crowded streets of Tokyo feeling like a stranger in
his own body. The weather had turned chill again and his breath came out in
steamy puffs. It felt like he had been away from civilization for years, but in
actuality, it had been a little over half a year. He seemed to have forgotten
how to do the simplest of tasks like how to ride the subway or order food at a
fast food restaurant. His hair had grown long and shaggy in his days at the
shrine, and he had tied it back in a half-bun and plunked a cap over it. He
looked at his reflection on the window glass and smiled crookedly. If only his
classmates from Eitoukou could see him now. He was no
longer their ¡°Prince,¡± the class president and archery team captain, but looked
every bit like a vagrant. A thirteen-year-old beggar without
home or family. His cheeks had become hollowed over the past half year
and his eyes had sort of a wild, savage look that had never been there before.
He had shot up at least a couple inches and his pants were embarrassingly
short.
Since
all his old clothes were tight on him, he reluctantly bought himself a pair of
jeans that fit and a jacket on sale, because it would be winter soon. The
jacket was a bit too warm, but he needed to save up every penny and could not
afford getting himself a lighter jacket and a separate winter coat. Gone were
the days when he had clothes he had never worn and outgrown hanging in his
closet.
While
he was up on Mount Kumatori, he did not have to use money because he could rely
upon the shrine and its gardens for his daily necessitates. But now that he was
back in the city, it meant that he had to be careful about his finances. There
were few places that would hire a thirteen-year-old elementary school dropout
without any sort of references. Where was he to sleep? How long would his savings
last if he lived off of convenience store bentos?
Could he survive off one meal a day and perhaps scrape by with getting a job
somewhere? He looked older than his age, so maybe he could get hired somewhere.
Except, he didn¡¯t have an address, or an ID. And most
importantly, how was he going to find a man called Reed?
Though he vowed he
would never return, just once, just once, he thought he would go back and
perhaps catch a glimpse of his sister again. She would never have to know he
was there.
But
when he reached his neighborhood, following the willow groves leading to the
mansion on the hill in Eitoukou, his home for his
entire life, he was stunned to find a vacant lot where his house had once been.
At first, he thought he had come to the wrong address. But there it was, the remnants of Miho¡¯s playhouse in the backyard and
the old apple tree, now barren. What had happened over the past half year? Had
there been a fire? Where were Miho and his mother then?
He
quickly hurried down the street and bumped into the mailman. He pulled his
black cap lower over his head. ¡°Sir, do you know what happened to the house
that was here?¡±
¡°Eh,
the Tanaka mansion?¡± the postman clucked. ¡°It burned down, completely to the
ground, months ago. It¡¯s a pity—it was a beautiful house. It¡¯s a cursed family,
I tell you. The family went bankrupt, they say, and the father died in some
freak accident. Then, the son disappeared. Such a bright,
handsome boy. There were rumors he was kidnapped or sold off to the
yakuza to pay off debts. His mother was so heartbroken, she went crazy. Then
the house burned down. It was a big fire, and the firefighters couldn¡¯t put it
out for two days. They were such a nice, picture-perfect family, too, kind-hearted
as well. It¡¯s really a pity.¡±
¡°The daughter. What happened to the
daughter?¡± Mikai said, gripping the postman¡¯s arm.
¡°Eh, the daughter? Oh. A relative or
somebody came and took her abroad. England or somewhere foreign,¡± replied the
postman.
Mikai
didn¡¯t loosen the grip on the postman. ¡°And the mother?¡±
The
old man clucked, shaking his head. ¡°She¡¯s completely lost it. Can¡¯t even
recognize her own daughter. She¡¯s been put in the
hospital, I heard, the psychiatric ward. I¡¯ve known Mia-chan for years, knew
her since she was a little girl Miho¡¯s age. Such a pretty fiery little thing
she used to be. It really is a tragedy. You never know with people, how they¡¯d
end up.¡±
¡°Which hospital?¡±
¡°The big one. Kinhoshi Hospital, I
believe.¡± The postman stared hard at the boy. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t I know you from
somewhere? You can¡¯t be Mikai-kun?¡±
¡°I¡¯m
sorry, you got the wrong person,¡± said Mikai, bowing his head down, lowering his
cap.
¡°Ah, my mistake. I thought you looked
a lot like the son of the house. But he has no right to show his face here
again, anyhow.¡±
It
left an unpleasant taste in his mouth that his mother was in Kinhoshi Hospital, of all places, owned by the Kinhoshi Corporation who turned its back on his father, his
family. But I can¡¯t go back now. If I do, I won¡¯t be able to help you, Mother. He
knew the facilities were the best in the area. He had learned that his mother
had a large suite in a sunny room, with the best services possible, thanks to a
benefactor by the name of Hiiragizawa Eriol. Who was Hiiragizawa Eriol? He had
never heard that name mentioned amongst his mother and father¡¯s friends.
Perhaps he was linked to the Great Five. But there was no data about the name
anywhere to be found. Yet he could not probe more without giving away his
identity. He could not even enter her room but only caught a glimpse of her
sleeping face from outside the door cracked open slightly. Her face was sallow
and deep lines he had never seen before lined her forehead and the corners of
her mouth. She looked so old, so frail. He was painfully aware that every
minute, the poison was spreading deeper through her body. He had learned what
had happened to the other descendants of the Great Ones. Anybody who could have
helped were already long gone—Amamiya Nadeshiko and Li
Ryuuren both had been dead for a decade.
But
it seemed like there was somebody else who was looking out for his family. Was
it just his cousin Mizuki Kaho, whom he had never met before? How was she
linked to this mysterious Hiiragizawa Eriol? It did not rest easy with him,
relying on the benevolence of strangers. What choice did he have in this
matter? And now, he knew he could focus on what he had to do because Miho
seemed to be in safe hands, as Mizuki Mayura-sama had promised. He had to
believe so.
What
ever journey he had undergone over the past half year, it seemed like his baby
sister had embarked on an even further journey. Perhaps it was for the better.
If he knew she was just a bus ride away, he doubted he could have been able to
keep away. Now that she was in a different continent, maybe she would be
protected from the evils lurking in this land ridden with ancient magic of a
bygone era.
When
Tanaka Mikai took the train out of Eitoukou, he knew
he would not return for a very long time. The void atop the hill where his
house had once been was the void in his heart, emptied of all lingering longing
for a lifestyle he could never return to, a final goodbye to a chapter of his
childhood. He clutched the silver locket, set with a round pigeon¡¯s blood red
ruby gem, in his hand, the only relic of his old life. I can sell my soul to the devil, for all I care, but please God,
Mayura-sama, or any higher force out there listening, keep my Miho safe for me.
******
¡°In
this day and age, the only thing you need to find a person is a computer,¡±
murmured Tanaka Mikai to himself as he walked the Tokyo streets. Luckily,
before he had left his house, he had packed his laptop, in need of recharging.
Of course, he had no need for it in his months of training in the mountains.
The battery had run out.
¡°All
I need to do is find an electric socket somewhere,¡± he mumbled. He spotted a
public library and hesitated before entering a public facility for the first
time in a long time. It was odd sitting in a library, surrounded by students
frantically cramming for midterms, people with a purpose, researching, browsing
books, or studying. He might have been one of them, in the middle of a semester
of junior high like the other kids his age, stacks of notebooks on hand,
bobbing his head to his headphone and downing canned coffee.
The
computer felt foreign after six months of absence of technology and
electricity. Though his fingers over the keyboard felt stiff, his mind hadn¡¯t grown
rusty. He had been the son of the president of Kinhoshi
Electronics, after all. He cracked into the government database with relative
ease. It didn¡¯t take him long to find out that there were six registered Reeds
in Japan. Two were female and out of the remaining four men, one was a diplomat
and one was a reporter. Only two remaining Reeds were of questionable origins.
It
was one fateful autumn evening that Tanaka Mikai made his way through the
dimly-lit, smoky bar in a seedy part of Tokyo, averting his eyes from the
scantily clad women pressing up against customers and the occasional drunk who swore
incoherently.
¡°What¡¯re
you doing here, little boy?¡± asked a buxom woman in a leopard print dress.
¡°This is no place for you, Baby Blue Eyes.¡±
Mikai frowned. ¡°Reed. I¡¯m looking for Reed-san.¡±
¡°And
who may you be?¡± asked the woman, tossing back her bleached hair. ¡°Don¡¯t tell
me you¡¯re his long-rumored hidden son.¡±
He
wondered how old she was. She dressed like she was in her twenties, but her
painted face had faint traces of wrinkles. Her breath reeked of something sickeningly
sweet, like cherry syrup and tonic. ¡°So he is here?¡± he asked impatiently.
The
woman pointed to the back of the bar.
Pushing
his way to the stairwell in the back, Mikai stumbled down the steps toward the
basement, leaving behind the loud chatter in the bar as he stepped into a foul dark
room, strewn with newspapers and cartons of take-out food. The room stank of
stale cigarette and alcohol and appeared to be empty. Cautiously, Mikai walked
further in, surprised to be greeted by a pair of marble-like pale eyes that gleamed
in the darkness. He could see the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man leaning
back against the couch.
Only
six months of the nightmare training at Mount Kumatori under Mizuki Mayura enabled
Mikai to dodge the knife which sailed his way, right over where his head was a
second ago. Mikai glanced back to see the knife had embedded itself in the
opposite wall. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± came a rough
voice, with slightly accented Japanese, though Mikai did not recognize the
dialect.
Gulping,
Mikai stammered, ¡°I am here to see Leon Reed-san.¡±
¡°And
what is your business with him?¡± drawled the man, lighting the cigarette in his
month with his silver lighter. He inhaled the smoke then let it out in little
puffs. If he was impressed with Mikai¡¯s reflex skills, he did not show it.
¡°I
am here to become his pupil,¡± replied Mikai steadily, sizing up the room,
wondering if there were any firearms or corpses hiding in some corner—the man
looked positively criminal.
The
man burst out in callous laughter, harsh and short like a man whose sense of
humor had long since left him. ¡°Go home, kid. This is place is not for the
likes of pretty boys like you.¡±
¡°I
wish to speak to Leon Reed-san.¡±
¡°And
what exactly do you think you would learn under Leon Reed?¡± The man leaned
forward, revealing his long sandy-golden hair brushed back from his square forehead
and a pair of cold ash-violet eyes that peered at him like glowing quartzes in
the shadows of the windowless room. His chin was scruffy as if he hadn¡¯t shaved
in a couple of days. However, the clothes he wore were of good quality, clean,
and pressed.
¡°About
the Five Force Treasures,¡± Mikai said, lips set in a firm line—he was not going
to be intimidated by this boorish man.
¡°Indeed.¡±
The older man threw his cigarette butt on the cement floor and stamped it out
with his foot. ¡°Seems like you¡¯re a nosy, good-for-nothing
boy, so I advise you get out of here before I really lose my patience.
And then, it won¡¯t be a pretty sight.¡± With a flick of his wrist, he flung
another knife at the boy¡¯s head—he was not aiming for the boy, not that he had
to know that, but only wanted to frighten him a bit.
Instead
of ducking this time, Mikai held out two fingers and caught the blade between
them. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous and rude to fling knives at people in the dark, Mr. Reed.¡±
The
corners of his lips curved slightly. ¡°Interesting boy.
I¡¯d like to know if that reflex is skill or luck.¡± He stood up from the couch
and walked up to the boy, whom he towered over at six feet and two inches.
Mikai realized for the first time that Leon Reed was a full foreigner—though he
might have guessed from the name, he figured he might be mixed, or that ¡°Reed¡±
may be some sort of stage name. There was of course the other Reed listed in the
directory that he had yet to track down. ¡°Do you know exactly what I do for a
living?¡±
¡°No.¡±
Mikai tried to look away from that statuesque face—though his face was unshaved
and his hair seemed rather unkempt, there was a sort of noble air about Leon¡¯s
features, maybe in that fine jaw line or straight nose, or haughty, crisp manner
of speaking.
Leon
grinned wolfishly, baring his white teeth. ¡°I steal.¡±
¡°Good.
Because I need to learn how to steal,¡± was the boy¡¯s calm reply. Less than a
year ago, he had led a school debate tournament with an argument on the
necessity of law and order to enforce moral codes and ethics in civilized
society. Since then, all norm and structure in his life had fallen apart. The
honorable were scorned upon and justice was nowhere to be found. He no longer
cared for rules and regulations or morality—all that mattered was results.
¡°Go
home, kid, before I lose my temper.¡±
¡°I
have no home to go back to,¡± said Mikai, brazenly staring up at the older man.
¡°I
might be an axe-murderer,¡± he said.
¡°So
could I. Besides, you wouldn¡¯t be saying that if you actually were,¡± Mikai replied.
¡°But I do believe you are a thief. And if you are one, then I believe you will
need an apprentice.¡±
¡°You¡¯re
rash, but you have guts, I give you that,¡± Leon stated. ¡°How
about I give you a test in order to see if you indeed are worth taking on as an
apprentice. I don¡¯t have leisure to entertain whimsical pretty boys who
ran away from home for a little Huckleberry Finn adventure. This business is a
matter of life and death for me.¡±
¡°As is for me. Just try me,¡± Mikai
replied, meeting Leon¡¯s uncanny violet gaze without looking away.
¡°Fine. Your task is to steal the Emerald Ring
of Queen Anne currently on exhibit at the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum and meet me
back here by nine. You have a time limit of two hours. If you pass the time
limit, you will have failed the task and have to promise to leave and never
show your face to me again.¡± Leon grinned as the boy looked panicked. ¡°Well,
hurry along, the clock¡¯s ticking.¡±
Mikai
scrambled out the door, and Leon Reed sipped in a newly lit cigarette. ¡°Bye-bye bozu.¡±
He let out a long puff of wispy smoke that dissipated into the air.
It
was about a quarter to nine when the boy returned, flushed and out of breath.
¡°You¡¯re
back already?¡± Leon Reed raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did you bring back the emerald
ring?¡±
¡°Here.¡±
The boy fumbled in his pocket and then plopped into Leon¡¯s hand something
wrapped in a dirty handkerchief.
Leon
unwrapped the emerald ring in disbelief. He would have
accused the boy of bringing in a fake, but he immediately recognized it as the real
deal. ¡°How¡¦When¡¦Well, boy, I think I deserve an explanation as to how a mere,
untrained boy got his hand on this jewel. I presume breaking into the Metropolitan
Museum would take at least an hour, and getting there from here and back
another half hour. There is no physical means you could have stolen this under
two hours, even if you were a professional.¡±
Smiling
grimly, Mikai replied, ¡°That is, if the jewel was actually in the Metropolitan
Museum.¡±
¡°What
do you mean?¡± Leon blinked innocently.
¡°The
jewel exhibited there is a fake—the real one was being cleaned at a specialty jeweler¡¯s
a couple blocks down from here,¡± replied Mikai.
Leon
sat up from the couch. ¡°How did you know that?¡±
¡°You
knew as well as I did that if I ran straight to the Metropolitan Museum, there
was no way an unseasoned thief like me would get in even through the front entrance.
In such a situation, the only alternative is thorough analysis of the situation
and using the brains. As you mentioned, it would not be possible for the most skilled
jewel thief in the world to break into the Metropolitan Museum, steal the
jewel, and make it back here under two hours. I had to
take a gamble that you were a fair man, a crafty one indeed, but one who would
not assign a completely impossible task. Because if you wanted to get rid of me
from the beginning, you would not have even bothered coming up with a mission
like this which could endanger yourself as well should I get caught by the
police. Hence, I had to make a deduction that you indeed were testing me, not
simply trying to make a fool of me. Which meant that there
must be a way to steal the jewel within two hours.¡±
Leon
was hiding a smile behind his hands as he puffed on his cigarette. ¡°Well, go on.
Let me hear the rest of your brilliant deduction.¡±
¡°I
went upstairs and coaxed the bar madam to let me use the business computer. In
doing so, I was able to hack into the museum¡¯s database and found out that the
jewel was out to be cleaned because they keep a log of all transactions on the
database. Thus, there was no point in me going through to the museum. I found
out which jeweler it was with and went directly there.¡±
¡°That
doesn¡¯t explain how you got the jewel, though it shows you found where its true
location was,¡± Leon said, bemused.
¡°Well,
I clearly couldn¡¯t break into the safe—nearly an hour had passed already while
I was gathering information. Thus, I figured it would take less time to use¡¦gentle
coercion.¡±
¡°You
threatened him?¡± Leon chuckled. He could not quite imagine the polite, genteel
boy holding a gun up to the poor jeweler¡¯s head and demand he hand over the
ring.
¡°No.
Blackmail.¡± Mikai smiled grimly. ¡°I told the jeweler
very politely that Mr. Leon Reed requested that he hand the emerald ring right
away or else he will not be left with a single jewel in his store.¡±
Leon
paled. ¡°What makes you think that he knows who I am?¡±
¡°Oh,
everyone knows who you are in this neighborhood,¡± Mikai said. They were in the shady
red light district that was apparently the turf of the Yamamoto-gumi, headed by yakuza boss Yamamoto Noboru. ¡°That is,
everyone in the underground business. How else do you think I found you?
Besides, I saw the jeweler¡¯s name card on the table over there.¡±
Leon
glanced over at the messy table scattered with various business cards,
newspaper clippings and overfilled ashtrays. The kid must have eagle vision. When
had the boy taken all that in? This was no normal kid at all—he had
underestimated him because of his modest, frank attitude and his delicate boyish
features which screamed poor little rich boy.
The
boy was a talker and declared unfazed, ¡°You stated yourself you are a thief,
and I figured that a thief needs a shady underhand dealer to sell the gems he
steals. I guessed that much correctly, didn¡¯t I?¡±
¡°And
how did you convince poor Ikeda-san that you were indeed there under my order?¡±
Leon asked.
Mikai
slipped out a knife from his pocket, the one Leon had flung at him earlier. ¡°These
have special markings on it, of a moon and a top hat—these are knives unique to
you, are they not? Most likely custom-made by a special
blacksmith from the area. They¡¯re used to instill fear in people with
your special emblem, a common tactic used by mafia. Of course, I had some other
back-up plans, but the objective here wasn¡¯t to impress you with finesse or skill.
The objective was to bring you the ring and to do so under the time limit.
Ikeda-san handed over the jewel to me with no fuss, so I completed this task.¡±
He glanced at his watch. ¡°And I did it in exactly one hour and 45 minutes.¡± Then,
he folded his arm over his chest, chin up, ready to
put up a fight to defend his method. Despite his assertive front, his pulse
beat rapidly as he awaited Leon Reed¡¯s reaction.
There
was a prolonged silence. Then, Leon roared out laughter. ¡°You amuse me, you
impudent little kiddo. Fine, I¡¯ll take you as my apprentice, if not to train
you to become the finest thief of Japan—no of the world—to keep me entertained
for the time being. Now, hurry along and return this jewel to good old Ikeda-san
before he dies of a heart attack at losing such a precious gem and the museum
curators throw a ruckus.¡±
Mikai
grinned uncertainly. Whether to receive the approval of a thief was a good
thing or not, he had found Leon Reed. This was the man who would guide him one
step closer to saving his mother.
******
¡°This
is my den,¡± Leon told the Mikai, walking him around the basement of the run-down
bar located in Kabukicho in Shinjuko,
the red light district which never went to sleep, home to many shady businesses
and seedy individuals. ¡°I live here by myself. The back room is my private
bedroom and is off limits. You can sleep outside on the couch or on the floor.
It¡¯s up to you.¡±
Mikai
set his duffel bag down next to couch, atop newspaper clippings, magazines,
pamphlets, scatted business cards, and an empty carton of Lucky Strike.
¡°I said I¡¯ll take you on,¡± said Leon.
¡°My condition is that my word is the rule. If you object to my way, then you
are free to leave. I live a dangerous life. This is not some child¡¯s play.
Every day is a risk, and I have no time to babysit some kid. I am going to
expect you to be an adult and will treat you as one. So I expect you to exercise
adult judgment at all times and won¡¯t make exceptions because of your age. Are
you up for it?¡±
¡°Yessir,¡±
replied Mikai, gulping.
¡°I
warn you. I¡¯m not used to having someone around. I don¡¯t want you getting in my
way. And don¡¯t expect me to be your friend or something. I¡¯m taking you on as
my apprentice because I see potential in you. It¡¯s strictly business between
us. So, I won¡¯t ask you about your private situation such as why some pretty boy
who obviously lived a pampered life until now is trying to learn street ways.
And in return, I expect you won¡¯t probe about in my private affairs.¡±
¡°Yessir,¡± said Mikai.
¡°So, is that your real hair? What do
you think you are, some shampoo model? It¡¯s annoying—it
stands out too much.¡± Leon remarked. ¡°Do something about it.
Mikai
self-consciously ran a hand over his brassy auburn hair, inherited from his
mother, as it ran in the Mizuki line.
¡°Well,
you can settle down there. Don¡¯t get in my way. Don¡¯t touch my things. Don¡¯t
talk to me unless I speak to you. And if you¡¯re hungry, go upstairs and ask
Shizuka to ask the cook to fix you up something.¡±
At
that moment, Mikai¡¯s stomach rumbled. He realized he hadn¡¯t eaten since
yesterday afternoon—or was it the day before that. His ears reddened. ¡°Thank
you. My name is Tana—¡±
¡°I
don¡¯t care what your real name is. First thing to learn in
this business. Never give out your real name,¡± interjected Leon.
¡°But
isn¡¯t Leon Reed your real name?¡± asked Mikai.
¡°Do
you think it is?¡± Leon¡¯s narrow eyes glinted. ¡°Fifty-fifty
chance. If you guess wrong, I¡¯m not going to take you on as my
apprentice anymore. So, what is it? Five seconds to answer.¡±
Mikai
took a deep breath. ¡°It is your real name.¡±
¡°You¡¯re
right, it is,¡± said Leon with a smile. ¡°How did you know that? Or was it a
lucky guess?¡±
¡°I
do not take chances where there is a 50 percent chance I might lose. I only
place my bet on a winning game,¡± said Mikai. ¡°But I could sense it. You are a
man who likes to act contrary to what people expect of you.¡±
¡°You¡¯re
a sharp kid. The trick is, everyone thinks it¡¯s not my real name,¡± Leon said.
¡°Ironic, isn¡¯t it, Tanaka Mikai?¡±
¡°How
did you—¡±
¡°Do
you think I took you in without doing some back research on you while you were
out harassing Ikeda-san?¡± Leon said. ¡°In this occupation, information, and
attaining information quicker than you opponent, is the key. This is the last
time I will say that name out loud. With me, you are a clean slate. What name
do you choose for yourself?¡±
Leon
Reed was right. Somewhere along the train trip from Eitokou
to Tokyo, he had shed the last traces of Tanaka Mikai. The Tanaka Mikai of a
year ago would not be inside a shady bar in the red light district of Tokyo. Nor
would he have spent two seasons up on Mount Kumatori, training at the Mizuki
Shrine.
And
even now, when he thought he had forgotten, he heard that clear voice that
asked him, Hey Kai, I can tall you that, right?
¡°Kai. Mizuki Kai,¡± said Mikai. ¡°My name is Mizuki
Kai.¡±
¡°Interesting
choice of name,¡± said Leon without any expression. ¡°Well, Kai-kun. Let¡¯s see
how long you last before you run back to your mommy with your tail between your
legs.¡±
¡°I
told you. I have nowhere to return to,¡± said Mikai.
The
older man stared at him scrutiny, cigarette butt in his mouth, as he covered the
end with one hand and lit it with a flick of his S. T. Dupont
gold-plated black lacquer lighter.
******
After
all those months of solitude up at the Mizuki Shrine, accustomed to the
soothing sound of the bubbling creek, chirping of birds and rustling of leaves
in the wind, Mikai found the basement of the bar always
loud at nighttime, with the blaring of music, boisterous voices of customers, and
frequent smashing of glasses.
Living
with Leon Reed was not an easy feat, Mikai found. For one, Leon was a regular
night owl. He prowled around after dark and returned to sleep early morning.
Mikai
had always been an early-riser, especially with his lifestyle at Mount
Kumatori, where he had risen with the sun and fallen asleep when it set. But
Leon Reed rarely ever went out during daytime.
Though
he had taken on Mikai as an apprentice, for the first several days, Leon
completely ignored Mikai¡¯s existence. The first day, Mikai tried to clean up
the filthy basement den, without much avail. Empty glass bottles of beer rolled
around the floor and a row of ants marched from a half-eaten pizza box. The
stench of stale cigarette had infiltrated every corner of the room laced with
the scent of cheap flowery women¡¯s perfume.
Leon
was in a bad mood during the day hours, and Mikai learned that Shizuka, the
owner of the bar, would cook him up ramen or when she was feeling generous,
fried rice, if he went upstairs and ran odd errands for her.
Sometimes,
Leon would join for the makeshift mealtimes. Other times they would order
Chinese delivery or pizza. Lots of pizza.
In
the evenings, the bar was bustling with customers, mostly middle-aged salary
men drowning their sorrows out in booze and women. The madam, Shizuka, and her group of hostesses in skintight dresses were
apparently highly sought out.
Mikai
found that because they were so busy, they needed someone to handle the
cashier. Sometimes he fetched the drinks. And he never spilled. The female
customers, ranging from office ladies to rebellious housewives, tipped him
handsomely.
¡°You¡¯re
so cute—how old are you?¡± asked woman with a throaty voice who reached over and
patted him on the head.
¡°Tell
you what, give me a kiss on the cheek, and I¡¯ll give you 10,000 yen,¡± said her
friend, holding up the bill.
Mikai
smiled politely but stepped away.
¡°Hey,
little boy, does your mom know you¡¯re playing hooky?¡± asked a red-faced man,
tie loosened, sprawled over the counter.
¡°No,
but does your wife know you¡¯re here every night and not working on the resort construction
project at the office?¡± replied Mikai.
The
man turned even redder. Then he laughed. ¡°Poison-tongued brat.
No wonder they say you¡¯re Leon-san¡¯s apprentice.¡±
Shizuka,
the mama of the bar, interjected, ¡°Leave the boy alone—he¡¯s a mathematical
wizard, our profits have increased twice-fold since he took over accounting.¡±
Handling the finances of the bar was something Mikai enjoyed in his spare time,
since he calculated that the bar was making steep losses because of accounting
errors and sloppy records.
On
nights that Leon did not go out, he would sit on a black leather couch at the
back of the bar and drink whisky on the rocks, a lot of it, puffing away on his
cigarette.
When
he had one too many glass, Shizuka told Mikai, ¡°Take Leon-san downstairs. He¡¯s
too drunk.¡±
And
Mikai with a long sigh approached Leon, coughing through the thick smoke. ¡°Leon-san. Let¡¯s go down to your room.¡±
¡°Who¡¯re
you?¡± demanded Leon, words slurred.
¡°Nobody. Just your apprentice,¡± snapped Mikai,
taking away the empty glass from his hand and setting it on the table.
¡°Ah,
my cute apprentice!¡± Leon laughed out loud. ¡°You still haven¡¯t gone home yet?
You stubborn little fool.¡±
Mikai
debated kicking the man in the shin and bolting out of the bar once and for
all, but instead dragged him between the tables, down the steep stairs to the
basement den, unceremoniously dumping him on his cot. Heaving a sigh, Mikai
wiped the sweat from his brows—Leon Reed was a huge man, and he was deadweight
when he was half-unconscious.
He
stared down at Leon¡¯s sleeping profile. His brows were constantly creased, as
if he was frowning, and his chin was even scruffier than before. The man had
what would be considered a classically handsome face, at least that was what Shizuka and the other hostesses said. The dark golden hair,
too long and unkempt, flopped over his eyes and added to his dashing debonair
thief aura. Mikai supposed Leon was British, based on the accent of his English
he had overheard during phone conversations, and it was Queen¡¯s English, when
he wasn¡¯t slurring his words and throwing out Cockney swears. How had this man
ended up in Japan? How old was Leon? It seemed he was younger than his father,
Tanaka Keisuke. Maybe younger than his mother as well, now
that he had a closer look, probably in his mid-thirties at most. With another
sigh, Mikai drew the wool blanket over the man, and turned off the lamp. Then
he tumbled onto his own cot on the opposite end of the of the basement den,
trying to shut out the creaking of the wooden planks upstairs, clinking of
glasses and a roar of voices, and the rank smell of alcohol, stale tobacco, and
soy sauce.
And
there were the women. There were always women around Leon. Women
from the bar. Women he came back home with after a night out. Women of questionable occupations who came looking for him, reeking
of cheap, pungent perfume.
¡°Who¡¯s
that cutie-pie?¡± asked a young woman with curly brown hair and in a very
low-cut nylon blouse and tight red miniskirt, pawing Leon as she leaned very close
to him on the leather couch in the basement. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s your illegitimate
son?¡±
¡°No
way,¡± replied Leon, arms slung low around her waist, a
glass of whisky was in the other hand. ¡°I¡¯m too young to have a son that big. He¡¯s
just crashing here because he has no place to go.¡±
¡°Oh.¡±
She lifted her head and kissed Leon on his cheek. ¡°So we can just ignore him,
right?¡±
Mikai
took the cue to go upstairs and leave Leon and the woman alone.
Business
began winding down around 4 a.m. and Shizuka took a
glance at Mikai quietly wiping down the martini glasses with a cloth. Her long
fake lashes fluttered against her cheek. ¡°Another woman?¡±
¡°Does
he always have some woman over? He¡¯s had a different one every single night
since I¡¯ve come here,¡± grumbled Mikai.
¡°He¡¯s
a smooth-talker to the ladies,¡± sighed Shizuka. ¡°And sinisterly handsome.
We women like brooding, tortured men with a past.¡±
Mikai
groaned. ¡°This was such a big mistake. I¡¯ve been here for a week, and all he
does is smoke, drink, and seduce women.¡±
¡°Oh,
he does other things too,¡± said Shizuka. ¡°Once in a while.
Come, I¡¯ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.¡±
¡°I¡¯m
not a child,¡± said Mikai. But he couldn¡¯t help taking the cup of steaming hot chocolate
and savoring the sweet, milky drink which slid down his throat like liquid
silk. When was the last time he had hot chocolate? With Miho,
after school, before their mother had fallen ill. How ridiculous was it that
something about this familiar, nostalgic taste made his throat clench for the first time in months.
¡°Isn¡¯t
it ironic? Adults try to drown their sorrows in alcohol, when, all it takes is
this simple drink from our childhood days,¡± said Shizuka, sipping on her mug of
hot chocolate. ¡°We try to forget and forget, when in fact, forgetting is a
greater tragedy and remembering is a lot more blissful.¡±
¡°Are
you one of his lovers too?¡± asked Mikai, seated by the empty bar counter, hands
cupping his warm mug.
¡°Me and Leon?¡± Shizuka laughed out
loud. ¡°Maybe if I was a decade younger. I took him in
when he was a homeless lost boy himself, maybe not much older than you. I gave
him shelter, and he offers protection to this establishment—keeps the yakuza
away. It¡¯s a mutually beneficial relationship that we have. He¡¯s really not a
bad sort, quite honorable and a gentleman, actually, but don¡¯t tell him I told
you that.¡±
*******
¡°Where
did you sleep last night?¡± asked Leon, eyes bleary and red-rimmed from
excessive drinking.
Mikai
picked up the bottles of whisky on the floor and set them by the sink to rinse
and recycle later. ¡°Upstairs, on the bar couch.¡±
Clutching
his throbbing temples, Leon glanced at the younger boy and mumbled, ¡°You
shouldn¡¯t be sleeping in a bar. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±
¡°In
the bar or below it, what¡¯s the difference?¡± replied Mikai, folding up discarded
articles of clothing and setting them on a chair. He picked up a torn pair of
stockings and lace garters from the grimy floor and made a tactical decision to
dump them in the trash.
Sitting
up from the bed, Leon said buttoning his shirt, ¡°I¡¯ll try to restrict bringing
women over, if that makes you uncomfortable.¡±
¡°It
doesn¡¯t bother me—it¡¯s your private business, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Mikai. ¡°That¡¯s
what we agreed upon.¡±
¡°You¡¯re
not a very cute kid,¡± grumbled Leon, running his hand over his unkempt golden
hair.
It
was after that incident that Leon began to take more notice of Mikai, sometimes
taking him out on his daytime errands, introducing him to the local blacksmith,
dropping by an office of the Yamamoto-gumi, and even
visiting the jeweler Ikeda-san, who was at first wary of him but eventually
gave tips on gemology to the younger boy. Sometimes, Leon put on a suit and
they visited galleries and museum exhibitions, and other days, he threw on his
favorite motorcycle jacket and a pair of aviator sunglasses and they slipped
into squalid mahjong parlors or fancy Ginza night clubs, information gathering.
But Leon never let him actually follow him on a job, telling him it was too
early.
Leon moved around mostly around after
sundown and would tumble into his cot in the wee hours of the morning until
late afternoon. But he did not bring over women to the den anymore—he saw them
outside. Since Mikai was naturally an early riser, he got into the pattern of
spending the morning studying while Leon snored away in his bed. He had gotten
a stack of used high school textbooks from one the bar regulars who had sent
her only son off to college in the States and took a maternal liking to Mikai—who
she believed was a broke high school dropout earning his university tuition
there.
One morning, Leon, up earlier than
usual, walked over to the boy bent over the coffee table and picked up a
Calculus textbook with his forefinger and thumb disdainfully. ¡°What are you
doing?¡±
¡°Studying,¡± said Mikai.
Leon snorted and tossed the book into
the garbage. ¡°For what? You¡¯ve chosen the wrong
occupation if you plan on getting into college or something.¡±
¡°Sorry. It¡¯s a habit,¡± replied Mikai,
shutting his notebook.
¡°Don¡¯t tell me you were top of the
class or some sort of nerd like that,¡± said Leon. ¡°How
uncool.¡± The man raised an eyebrow when he realized he had struck a
nerve. ¡°Then again, you¡¯re a pretty smart boy for your age. I won¡¯t be
surprised if you were. No worries. I¡¯ll teach you everything there is to being
a real man. Now put those books aside.¡±
Mikai stared up at Leon. Unlike
Mayura-sama, who believed in routine, constant practice, and incremented levels
of difficulty in lessons based on achievement, Mikai never knew what Leon would
teach him on a whim. Today, it could be street-style fist-fighting with the
local yakuza, next an actual boxing session at a neighborhood gym with
pro-athletes. Leon remarked snidely that Mikai punched like a girl, but was
grudgingly impressed with Mikai¡¯s dart-throwing skills during game night at the
bar. Leon also had an array of nefarious acquaintances, and Mikai learned how
to count cards in a game of Blackjack from the local yakuza boss, shoot a
moving target with a .22 caliber pistol under an ex-Special Forces soldier, and
even pick locks with a nifty toolset acquired from the blacksmith, a former con
artist.
Leon was a philanderer and women
swarmed to him naturally, and even more so when he decided to come out of his
den and charm them with his wit and sleight of hand. Sometimes, when Leon was
on a job, he would shave properly, slick back his hair, and even dress in a
crisp luxury brand suit, looking more like an English gentleman than the
jobless bum he appeared to be.
Mikai was most delighted when Leon entertained
the customers with magic tricks, which he only did when he was in the mood to.
He clapped enthusiastically when Leon released a flock of doves from a top hat,
which transformed into feathers, showering down on the group of spectators
before melting away into sakura blossom petals.
¡°Oh, do show me how to do that!¡±
exclaimed Mikai.
¡°Why do you want to learn?¡± asked Leon.
¡°It¡¯s just a stupid, useless pastime.¡±
And Mikai stared up at the older man,
recalling a certain someone who had said the same words to him once before. ¡°It¡¯s
not. I saw you have tons of books on magicians in your layer, for all your
disdain for reading. You take magic seriously, don¡¯t you?¡±
¡°Humph.¡± Leon scowled. ¡°So, show me
what tricks you have up your sleeves, and we¡¯ll go from there.¡±
Mikai showed Leon an array of his
skills, including his best card tricks, and the older man remarked after a
while, ¡°Who did you learn from, boy?¡±
Staring into the older man¡¯s pale violet
eyes, Mikai said, ¡°A very estimable teacher that I once knew.¡±
¡°You already know half the tricks I
do, it seems,¡± grumbled Leon. ¡°I would almost think you¡¯ve learned from me
before—how is it you know some of my signature moves which I haven¡¯t shared
with anyone before? Are you sure you don¡¯t want to pursue a career as a stage
magician instead of a thief? It may prove more lucrative, with your looks and
age.¡±
¡°It is my safety crutch, in case this
thieving business doesn¡¯t work out,¡± said Mikai with a crooked grin. ¡°Someone
once told me I have a magician¡¯s hand.¡±
Leon took a glance at Mikai¡¯s
outstretched hand, chapped and blistered. The boy had been working at the bar,
cleaning up after hours and doing the dishes, but his fingers were also covered
with bunions and little scars—someone skilled in archery, someone who must have
done farming and rough outdoors work, someone who maybe had not had it so easy,
after all. ¡°So you do. Like me.¡±
From then on, Mikai pestered Leon to
show him all his magic tricks when they had down time, though Leon grumbled, ¡°I
never show a magic trick twice because it will lose its novelty. And you are a
faster learner.¡±
¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± Mikai said
smugly, shuffling a deck of cards, then with a flick of his wrists, letting the
cards fly out in an arch overhead, and landing smartly on his other hand.
¡°You may surpass your teacher, yet,¡± murmured
Leon, with a crooked smile, thinking the boy looked more like his age for a
change.
¡°You?
Maybe,¡± replied Mikai. ¡°But never my first mentor. She¡¯s
the most talented magician I have met—her magic creates joy and wonder.¡±
¡°What about my magic?¡±
¡°They¡¯re illusions to mask your crooked
soul,¡± said Mikai.
Leon snorted. ¡°Impudence. I would like
to meet this first magic teacher of yours someday and see what the big deal is.¡±
Despite being a slob himself, Leon did
not like to see Mikai¡¯s shabby wardrobe and told him to buy some clothes that
actually fit and not disgrace his mentor¡¯s name. Mikai, since
he had accumulated some cash from helping out at the bar, obliged, and bought
some season-appropriate clothing, including cable-knit sweaters and a proper
winter coat. A suit was too expensive, however, so he had one of Leon¡¯s
older black suits refitted by Shizuka.
¡°There, fits perfectly—you look like a
proper gentleman instead of a runaway delinquent for a change!¡± exclaimed
Shizuka through a mouthful of pins. Mikai spun around in the crisp black suit,
which had been tailored to his size, and would be useful when pretending to look
older.
¡°Now did you have to go butcher my
favorite suit just because I told you to stop dressing like a bum,¡± said Leon
bemusedly at the younger boy.
Mikai replied, ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell me a
magician¡¯s all acting, poise, and style? Besides, this suit was gathering
mothballs in the bottom of your closet—I figured you didn¡¯t wear it anymore.¡±
¡°I was saving it because it¡¯s my good
suit,¡± Leon replied. ¡°But you look half-decent in it, so it¡¯s a suit put to
good use, I suppose. And you did need some formalwear as well.¡±
¡°Who is this cutie?¡± asked a new
guest, voluptuous woman with a beauty mark beneath her eye. She wrapped a
carefully manicured hand around Mikai¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s your son.¡±
¡°Nah, he¡¯s just my apprentice,¡±
drawled Leon.
The woman replied, ¡°But he looks just
like you.¡± Mikai glared up at her with his gray-blue eyes.
¡°Oh, Leon, let me borrow him. Just
look at his face. He looks so innocent. We should make him serve our customers
at my host bar,¡± said another plump woman with bleached voluminous hair.
¡°They¡¯ll adore him.¡±
¡°He¡¯s still a kid. Don¡¯t tease him too
much, Chisato,¡± said Leon.
The first woman with the beauty mark
asked, ¡°What¡¯s your name, boy?¡±
¡°Kai.
Mizuki Kai,¡± Mikai replied.
¡°And how old are you, Kai-kun?¡± asked
the blonde woman called Chisato.
¡°T-thirteen,¡± replied Mikai, blushing.
¡°Ah, you look older,¡± said the woman.
She pinched Mikai¡¯s cheek. ¡°You¡¯re just a baby.¡±
¡°What are you talking about? He¡¯s
plenty a man already. You know kids develop fast these days,¡± said the woman
with the beauty mark, pressing a kiss on Mikai¡¯s cheek. ¡°How about ditching
that grumpy master of yours and spending a night with onee-chan
instead?¡±
¡°You¡¯re only thirteen?¡± barked Leon.
¡°That makes you what, a middle school dropout? You better get back to studying.
Even I completed junior high.¡±
Chisato chuckled. ¡°You didn¡¯t even
know how old the boy was before taking him on?¡±
¡°Never occurred to me to ask,¡± said
Leon. ¡°He¡¯s tall for his age.¡±
*******
Gradually,
Mikai was allowed to have a more hands-on role in help Leon prepare for his jobs,
which included scouting, mapping out target locations, and hacking into
security systems, when the older man discovered he had a natural knack for cracking
codes.
Leon
couldn¡¯t help remarking, watching Mikai, crouched on the floor, fingers flying
over his keyboard as a blue screen lit about and numbers flashed by, ¡°What is
your real identity? It can¡¯t be just some stroke of sheer luck that you¡¯re
already so well-versed in hacking into computer systems. And all this while, I
believed you to be an upright member of society.¡±
Mikai
did not bother to mention that his father had been the president of a computer
software company, figuring Leon probably already knew. ¡°My earliest friends
were computer programmers, and they taught me everything they knew. And it
helps, I guess, that many of the places we break into all use the security
system that was designed by Suzuhara-san.¡±
¡°Oh,
the Suzuhara-san who¡¯s been recently scouted to join
the government¡¯s cyber security command?¡± asked Leon. ¡°The
man who betrayed your father and leaked Kinhoshi
Electronics¡¯ top secret program to a rival company, leading to the eventual
bankruptcy of the company and forcing Tanaka Keisuke to shoulder the blame
himself.¡±
Mikai
shoved away his laptop, bolting up. ¡°How did you find out?¡±
¡°It¡¯s
not that hard to track your past—a lot of it was on the news,¡± said Leon. ¡°Your
father, Tanaka Keisuke, was forced on a business trip to Hong Kong, to convince
investors there to help save the company. But he met an unfortunate car accident
there. Leaving his family, his wife and two children, to
shoulder an immense debt.¡±
¡°Does
it make you feel important? Mocking my past, wasting my time, stringing me along
because you know I can¡¯t do anything about it?¡± demanded Mikai.
¡°No, not
particularly. It¡¯s not like I was curious about
your past, but it¡¯s my business, as an adult to check how you wound up with
such an unsavory person as me,¡± said Leon. ¡°So, what is your ultimate goal? Revenge? Do you want to take down Director Suzuhara? Or Hoshi Enterprise Chairman Kinomoto Fujishinto and his son Fujishika?
I can help you do that.¡±
¡°Who said I wanted something as
mundane as revenge?¡± said Mikai. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have come here, if that¡¯s all I
wanted. I can take down scum like Suzuhara on my own.¡±
¡°Not cute at all,¡± mumbled Leon.
¡°There was software that I programed
that he took credit for back then, that¡¯s the kind of adult he was,¡± said
Mikai. ¡°I was invited to join Mensa when I was age three, at that time the
youngest member recruited. I can outsmart him in his own game, if I thought it
would be worth my time.¡±
¡°So, big deal, you have a high IQ,¡±
replied Leon. ¡°What, you¡¯re showing off that you were a child prodigy?¡±
¡°I can be of use to you,¡± said Mikai. ¡°There
is no security program that I cannot crack, no system that I cannot override.
So use me.¡±
¡°What use can you be of to me?¡± drawled
Leon, tapping out a Lucky Strike from a carton. ¡°I¡¯ve managed fine on my own,
all this time, without you, and I never even graduated high school.¡±
Mikai¡¯s stormy gray eyes flashed. ¡°It¡¯s
not about necessity, it¡¯s about convenience. I can make things more convenient
for you.¡±
¡°And what do you want in return from
me?¡± asked Leon coolly. ¡°What can I offer you, little prince?¡±
¡°Teach me how to do this job, properly,¡±
said Mikai, grabbing a fistful of Leon¡¯s shirt. ¡°Don¡¯t treat me like a child.
Treat me like an equal, as you said you would. I don¡¯t have time to waste.
Every day, every minute, my mother is closer to dying!¡±
¡°You want to save your dying mother.
Why can¡¯t you just say that clearly?¡± said Leon, knocking away Mikai¡¯s hand. ¡°Stupid boy. You
think there is a cure for the Plague? You can¡¯t reverse the dark force that has
gotten control of the mind. She is already rotting from within—you¡¯ve got to
come to terms with that, and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it.¡±
Mikai¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You know about
the Plague. So you know about the Five Force Treasures, don¡¯t you, about the
cure!¡±
¡°We don¡¯t know where the Five Force
Treasures are—at least not all of them. And there is no guarantee that even if
they are found and collected, they will be able to heal your mother,¡± said
Leon.
¡°That¡¯s not for you to decide,¡± shot
back Mikai. ¡°I¡¯m going to fight back with the last breath I have to set things
right. It¡¯s the promise I made to my sister, to myself. And you are going to
help me find the Five Force Treasures.¡±
¡°Cocky one, aren¡¯t you?¡± said Leon. ¡°Remember,
you are under my mercy. Learn your place first, then
maybe you can be of some use to me.¡±
*******
Leon¡¯s cigarette butt dropped out of
his mouth as his moody apprentice stepped out of the steamy bathroom one afternoon.
¡°What did you do to your hair, boy?¡±
¡°I cut it,¡± said Mikai, running his
hand over his shorter hair, sides shorn off in a buzz cut.
¡°No, I meant the color.¡±
¡°Ah, I got it bleached. Shizuka-san
helped me dye it,¡± said Mikai with a shrug.
¡°You realize it¡¯s even flashier than
before, right?¡± said Leon, trying to light his cigarette again with shaking
hands, the flame on his lighter fizzling away.
¡°Someone once told me to do the
opposite of what people expect of you,¡± replied Mikai.
¡°That is not what I said,¡± grumbled Leon, coughing on the smoke. ¡°Teenage boys. They never listen.¡± He jammed the cigarette
into an overfull ashtray.
Tanaka Mikai, several months away from
turning fourteen, stared at his reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. He
borrowed some of Leon¡¯s hair wax and styled his hair into pointed spikes, leaving
several locks to tumble down into his eyes.
¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Leon, as
the boy reached into his closet and swiped his favorite black leather jacket,
which was oversized on Mikai but somehow settled on his slighter frame stylishly,
paired with a pair of black ripped jeans. The jeans were tattered probably
because it seemed to be the only pair of pants the boy owned.
¡°To Chisato-san¡¯s place,¡± replied Mikai.
He reached over and picked up a discarded pair of black sunglasses lying around
on the coffee table, slipping it on nonchalantly as if it were his own.
¡°Why? You really shouldn¡¯t be
frequenting a brothel at your age!¡± stated Leon.
Mikai looked over the bridge of the
sunglasses in exasperation. ¡°It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t been there before.
Besides, I promised Chisato-san I¡¯ll help her reformat her desktop computer and
finish installing their security cameras. And she¡¯s paying me for it. Don¡¯t
wait for me—I¡¯m having dinner at her place—their omurice
is delicious. I¡¯ll pack you some, if you want.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t stay out too late!¡± called out
Leon, before he could help himself.
This made Mikai smile at him wryly. ¡°Why
don¡¯t you get yourself a girlfriend instead of worrying where I am at night
like some old geezer?¡±
Leon Reed placed his forehead on his
palm and muttered, ¡°I¡¯ve raised a monster, haven¡¯t I?¡± He reached for his
cigarette carton and realized it was empty, crumpling it in his hand.
*******
Tanaka Mikai, hands buried deep in
Leon¡¯s motorcycle jacket pockets, walking along the bustling streets of
Shibuya, thinking it had been a while since he had mingled amongst teenagers
his age. Chisato had sent him to pick up a dress from a store in Shibuya, and
Mikai found himself strolling in the midst of what would be called respectable
members of society for the first time in a while, side-by-side with middle and
high schoolers in uniforms, fashionable university
students on a night out, couples cozying up against each other, and ordinary
office workers.
He wouldn¡¯t have realized that it was
holiday season, until he spotted a huge Christmas tree at the center of the
crowded plaza, lit up with multicolor lights and topped with a haloed angel. Over
the honking of cards and the incessant chatter of people, the sound of carols
drifted out from stores, and twinkling tinsels and iridescent lighting decorated
the streets and lampposts, harkening the end of another year and a time of
merrymaking.
The last time he had come to Shibuya
might have been with Miho and their mother, on a shopping excursion, around
this season last year. Miho had been so excited to get a new red patent leather
purse, and the three of them had crepes and hot chocolate topped with whipped
cream and candy cane sprinkles afterward, one of the last times their mother
had been well enough to go out with them.
He wondered how Miho was doing in
England. Was she going to school there, or would she be on vacation now? She
was a sociable, bright girl, she probably would have
no problem making new friends. Had she grown a bit taller? She didn¡¯t know how
to braid her own hair, but maybe she¡¯d outgrown pigtails by now. Miho was such
a big fan of Sherlock Holmes, hopefully she got to
visit Baker Street. Had she finished the mystery novel that she began writing
last year? But the manuscript might have burned down with the rest of the
house.
Most days, he didn¡¯t recall those
times, because if he did, he could not continue with the now. When he was
feeling especially low, he remembered that person¡¯s last words to him. ¡°Kai. You¡¯ll manage. Because
you¡¯re strong.¡± The hesitant
smile which never reached those soulful violet eyes, the way her golden hair
had fluttered in the sea breeze as they gazed out into the tumultuous ocean
that day before she disappeared from his life forever.
At that moment, Mikai looked up,
slipping off his sunglasses as he glimpsed the back of a girl with feathery
golden hair, the hue of barley glistening in sunlight, walking ahead of him in
the streets of Tokyo as flurries of the first snow of the winter fell down from
the gray, gray skies.
Maybe he was hallucinating because he
wanted to see her so badly. He wanted to feel the touch of her cold fingers on
his brows, stroking his hair when she thought he was sleeping, smell the traces
of lavender soap on her clothes, hear her say his name one more time with that
melodic lilt.
He pushed against the people rushing
forward as the green light came on and ran across the congested street, tracing
after they girl¡¯s movement as she walked briskly in her black leather boots,
heels clip-clopping on the cement pavement. Amid the throng of pedestrians, his
eyes never left the back of her golden head. He shoved through the barrier people
and called out, ¡°Karin-senpai! Kamura Karin!¡±
But the crowd melted away, and the
girl with golden hair was nowhere to be seen.
**********************************************************************************
Wish-chan:
(January 23, 2018)
I wrote most of this chapter many years
ago, along with Chapter Five, but had to hold off on releasing it to catch up
with Leon Reed¡¯s proper introduction in the main New Trials story in Arc 4. I
am glad he finally has been properly introduced in the Kaitou Magician Origins
timeline, because he¡¯s perhaps the most interesting character out of the
Amamiya Nadeshiko generation, or at least the most
mysterious thus far. Leon is the youngest of the Nadeshiko generation as well, probably
two years younger than Nadeshiko and Miara, while
Tanaka Keisuke was the oldest of the group.
I also wanted to include a disclaimer
here warning the health hazards of cigarette smoking and absolutely do not
condone it. I debated including the details of Leon¡¯s smoking habits so
rampantly in this chapter, but at the end of the day, it¡¯s all a part of his
character, so it can¡¯t be helped. Also, I consider the Kaitou Magician Origins,
which has darker themes in general, more as PG-13 than New Trials, which
probably starts out rated General and leaning perhaps more PG in Arc 4. Because
I have younger readers, I would like to also discourage underage drinking and
urge responsible drinking.
This chapter is where you see the
beginning of the transformation of Tanaka Mikai into the Mizuki Kai we know in
New Trials. Kaitou Magician Origins is not his full story, but just snippets
into Kai¡¯s past before he appears in the main storyline and joins with Sakura
and the others. I enjoy writing shorter chapters for specials such as KMO,
since they are much more manageable. These chapters might also make some of the
details mentioned in passing in New Trials make more sense.
I continue to cherish any and all emails
at hopeluvpeace@hotmail.com. If you haven¡¯t already, check out the Yahoo New
Trials Ring at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/newtrialsring
which has become more vibrant than it has in ages with the new Card Captor
Sakura Clear Card anime which started broadcasting this month. Checkout for the
New Trials Facebook page for quickest news of CCS-related updates and
communication with the community: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2230239543/?ref=bookmarks.
For my latest New Trials updates and
other news, check out my blog at http://wishluv.blogspot.com.
And please find my artwork at http://wishluv.deviantart.com.
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