Stephen and Tamiko returned to the living room carrying glasses of a semi-clear liquid. “Homemade and ice cold,” he said. “You won’t find better west of the Delaware River.”
“Is everything okay?” Tamiko asked, seeming to take note of the silence.
“It’s fine,” Kisaki lied.
Stephen handed the glasses around, stopping last at Shitoro. “You aren’t going to zap me again, are you?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Shitoro!” Kisaki hissed.
“Oh, very well. I shall endeavor to not do so, at least until such time as you upset my lady and cause her grief.”
Kisaki let out a pained sigh but decided to let it go. That was probably the best she was going to get out of the overprotective little youkai. She took a tentative sip of the liquid. Not bad. Sweet, yet not overly so, with just a hint of tartness. Most agreeable.
Once they were all seated, Stephen asked, “So what did you two talk about while we were gone ... besides not zapping me?”
Tamiko laughed. “You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”
“Easy for you to say. It was like being stung by a bee over and over again.”
Shitoro, for his part, seemed pleased by Stephen’s discomfort.
After a few more moments of awkward silence, Kisaki decided to get right to the point. “I have a question to ask you, Stephen Fuller.”
“Shoot.”
“I do not have a weapon.”
“It means feel free to ask.”
“Sorry. Language is one thing, but the colloquialisms take time.”
He let out a chuckle. “I can only imagine. So what did you want to know?”
“I will be blunt. Are you my father?”
Stephen blinked a few times, then began to laugh. It wasn’t quite the reaction she’d been expecting. He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Yes, Luke, I am your father.” Then he continued laughing.
He only stopped when he realized the rest of them were staring at him silently. “What? Don’t you guys have Star Wars in your sky temple? You know, Darth Vader?”
“Celestial Palace,” Shitoro corrected.
“Who is Darth Vader?” Kisaki asked. “Is that your true name?”
Stephen turned to Tamiko. “Help me out here.”
“Sorry, you’re on your own,” she replied.
He picked up his glass and took a sip. “C’mon. You guys weren’t serious, were you?”
Shitoro got to his feet and pointed a finger at him. “Enough with the games, wizard. Confess! Tell Lady Kisaki how you were able to fool her divine mother with your power and maybe I shall let you live.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Stephen spit out a mouthful of lemonade, dousing the tiger demon with it. “Are you for real?”
Shitoro backed up and raised his claws. “You all saw him. You saw the wizard attack me. For that I shall...”
“Settle down, Shitoro,” Kisaki said. “I was not joking, Stephen Fuller, for that is your name, is it not?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Then please explain yourself, for that was also the name of my father.” She glanced Shitoro’s way as if to confirm this.
“Yes, my lady. Your father is Lieutenant Stephen Fuller.”
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg,” Stephen said. “I’m sixteen years old, for Christ’s sake. I’m not in the Army and I don’t have any kids. Hell, I’ve ... never even had a real girlfriend.”
“Really?” Tamiko asked with a grin.
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Besides, look at you,” Stephen said to Kisaki. “We’re, like, the same age.”
Shitoro again pointed at him. “So you admit it?”
“Huh?”
“Kisaki isn’t sixteen,” Tamiko explained. “She’s a bit older.”
“Like how much?”
Shitoro folded his arms defiantly as he continued to glare at the boy. “Going by your primitive human calendar, Lady Kisaki was born in, I believe, the year nineteen forty-six.”
“Nineteen forty...?! That’s like,” Stephen held up a hand and counted on his fingers. “A really long time ago.”
“Feh,” Shitoro spat. “A mere blink of the eye for those of the celestial palace.”
“Unless you happen to be locked up studying all the time,” Kisaki groused under her breath.
“What was that, young miss?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you serious?” Stephen asked. “You’re really that old?”
“You’re talking to a girl who just beat up six guys and owns a talking cat,” Tamiko pointed out, “and that’s what you’re hung up on?”
“Nobody owns me, and I AM NOT A CAT!”
“Okay, fine. I get it,” Stephen said, setting his glass down and putting his head into his hands. “And you somehow think that I was around back then ... err ... dating your mother?”
“That is what we are asking,” Kisaki said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No offense, but this is sounding like the plot of a Terminator movie.” When he saw their confused looks, he shook his head. “Never mind. Needless to say, it’s weird. I mean, my parents weren’t even born at that point. Heck, I don’t know if my grandparents were.”
“Kisaki,” Tamiko said after a moment, “could you maybe have the wrong Stephen Fuller?”
“Wrong one? I do not understand.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said. “You do realize that more than one person can share the same name.”
“They can?” Kisaki had never met two youkai with the same name. It was hard to even imagine. How could one tell one apart from the other when addressing them otherwise?
“He’s not wrong,” Tamiko said. “And, while I’m not really caught up on common American names, Fuller is pretty short. I have to guess it’s not that rare.”
“We’re the only Fullers in town,” Stephen said, “but we have family all over the country.”
“That proves it!” Shitoro said.
“Proves what?”
“You just confessed it. This hamlet is the last known location of Kisaki’s father. If you are the only Stephen Fuller here, then who else could you be?”
“I thought cats were supposed to have good hearing,” Tamiko said.
“I will have you know my hearing is excellent.”
“Then it’s your listening that leaves something to be desired.”
“I have listened to everything that has transpired in this house, including your somewhat sad flirtation with the wizard here when you two went to fetch our drinks.”
“What?!”
Shitoro put his hands together over his head and leaned back. “‘Oh, Stephen. What a wonderful home you have,’” he said in a bad mockery of Tamiko’s voice. “Why, I’m surprised you did not return already pregnant with his cubs.”
Stephen spat out another mouthful of lemonade, which this time Shitoro was mindful to dodge.
Kisaki had never seen the tiger youkai act this way before. He was always so serious when it came to her studies. Though it was obvious he’d embarrassed her friends, she found it to be highly amusing nevertheless.
Tamiko, for her part, had turned several shades redder in the face, something Kisaki had experienced earlier when considering whether she found Stephen attractive. Although now a part of her was aghast at the thought, since they were trying to determine whether he was her father.
Kisaki had to admit to feeling an odd kinship with Stephen, but perhaps that emotion was best not trusted. If indeed her father had managed to seduce her mother, who she’d always seen as aloof and proud, in the space of a single night, then maybe he was a wizard.
Tamiko was the first to break the silence. “Are there any other Stephens in your family? Maybe an uncle or something? And just for the record, I wasn’t flirting back there.”
“Oh,” Stephen replied. “I mean, yeah, that’s cool.” He too appeared
flustered. “Anyway, no, not that I know of. I have one uncle, George. My father’s name is Glen. His dad, my grandpa, was Jeremy, and he had two brothers ... Christopher and, I think, William. So, no. There’s nobody who fits ... holy crap!”
“What is it?” Kisaki asked after a moment.
Shitoro leaned forward. “Finally coming to grips with your lies?”
“What? No,” Stephen relied blankly. “I just remembered. My great-grandfather. I was named after him.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“Great-grandfather?”
“Yeah, my dad’s grandfather.” Stephen suddenly perked up as if remembering. “And he was in the military too. Retired as a major. Here, check this out.” He stood and walked over to the fireplace. Above it was a shelf upon which stood many small objects. He picked one up. “This is his Purple Heart.”
“He had a purple...”
“It’s a medal,” Stephen explained. “They give it out to those who are wounded in battle.”
“He was wounded?” Kisaki asked.
“Yeah, took some shrapnel from a hand grenade, but he made it. Obviously, since I’m here.”
Kisaki looked at Shitoro. “A warrior.”
Shitoro nodded. “Yes, but we are seeking out a Lieutenant Stephen Fuller, not a...”
“You have to be a lieutenant before you can be a major,” Tamiko explained.
Kisaki chuckled. “Yes, Shitoro. That was mentioned in my lessons. I would think you should know that.”
The tiger demon appeared flustered. “If someone had been a more diligent pupil, than perhaps I wouldn’t be constantly distracted. Besides, I am no warrior. I leave that to youkai more...”
“Capable?” Tamiko asked.
“Brutish,” he finished.
“That must be it,” Stephen said, sitting down and staring at the medal. “He fought in the Pacific theater during World War Two.”
“Pacific theater? World War?” Kisaki asked. Though her studies had included a great deal of human history, these were two terms she was unfamiliar with.
“It was a massive war fought in the nineteen forties,” Tamiko explained. “There were two main fronts, Europe and the Pacific. The Pacific one was mainly fought between the United States and Japan. My grandparents and I’m pretty sure their parents too, were conscripted. There was ... a lot of bad blood on both sides of it.”
“Pearl Harbor,” Stephen said.
“The atomic bomb,” Tamiko replied. “But that was all a long time ago.”
“Well before my time,” Stephen added, glaring at Shitoro.
“But not your great-grandfather’s,” Kisaki said, deep in thought. She turned to Shitoro. “What do you think?”
“I still think this wretch is a wizard, but his story is plausible, I suppose. Humans live such paltry lifespans.”
“Hey, Great-grandpa lived a good long time,” Stephen said. “He was almost ninety when he passed on.”
“Passed on?”
“Yeah, he ... oh shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. My great-grandfather, Stephen Fuller, he died about five years ago.”
26
Kisaki wasn’t sure what to feel. On the one hand, she’d gotten her hopes up of meeting the man who was the missing equation from her life. It was devastating to know that could never happen now.
But it was also difficult to work up emotion over someone she’d never met ... someone she hadn’t even considered barely a day ago.
Tamiko crossed the room and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Kisaki smiled up at her friend, feeling her warmth, and realizing something along with it. This was real, the here and now. Her father was but an illusion, a momentary ideal. Nevertheless, she felt her eyes filling with moisture at the thought of that which she would never know.
“Holy shit!” Stephen suddenly said.
“What is it?” Shitoro asked. “Did someone forget to walk you today?”
“Not that,” he replied. He knelt down in front of Kisaki and looked her in the eye. “When I was a kid, my great-granddad used to sit me on his lap and tell me stories from his time in the service. It was mostly light stuff. I don’t think my parents would have appreciated him telling gruesome war stories to a five year old. The thing is, a few of them were kind of out there. Tall tales, if you get my drift.”
“He means exaggerated stories,” Tamiko explained before she could ask.
Kisaki couldn’t help but smile. If Tamiko could know what she was thinking before she could even voice it, then that made her a true friend indeed.
“Yeah, exactly,” Stephen continued. “Like this time he claimed he and his buddies saw a mermaid and...”
“Mermaids are real,” Shitoro said in a bored tone. “They are aquatic youkai who are not to be trifled with.”
“Err, okay. Good to know for the next time I go fishing. Anyway, he had this one story that was really weird, but young me used to dig it. He told me of the night he met an angel.”
“Go on,” Kisaki said, intrigued.
“I never knew what to think of it. I mean, he never struck me as the religious type. More a no-nonsense kind of guy than anything. Nothing else he ever talked about was like it. I mean, he always said he didn’t even want a pastor at his funeral. ‘Just throw me in a ditch and get to shoveling, Stevie,’ he used to say ... uh, sorry. Not trying to bring you down or anything. It was just something that he found funny.”
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I think it is ... amusing.”
“It always made me laugh as a kid. So, yeah, the angel. It was one of the few actual stories from the war he would tell me. He said she came one night, not long after his platoon had landed on one of the Japanese islands.”
“Which one?” Tamiko asked.
“He probably said its name, but remember, I was barely in Kindergarten. I was a lot more interested in watching Sesame Street than being given a geography lesson. So they landed on the island, and there was a lot of fighting, bombs going off all around, overall chaos. It was a bad time, morale was low, and he was feeling particularly down. But in the middle of it all, he woke up one night to find an angel calling out to him. Said it was the strangest thing, this beautiful creature in the middle of all that ugliness.”
“Did he say what happened?” Kisaki asked.
“He didn’t really elaborate. Said she took him for a walk, but then he would always trail off when I asked where they went.”
Kisaki glanced toward Shitoro and found his eyes to be wide with surprise.
“He said that was what changed it all for him. Afterwards, he just sorta knew that he would live to make it back home again. Which he obviously did.”
“Shitoro?” Kisaki tentatively asked. “What is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“I see the look on your face. Don’t try playing games.”
“Fine,” he said. “It actually sounds very similar to what your mother once told me.”
“How so?”
“She had wanted to visit Earth, stroll along the beach and enjoy the feel of the breeze in her hair, but when she arrived, she found herself in the middle of a great battle.”
“Was she scared?” Tamiko asked.
“Do not be foolish. The daimao were born and bred for war. It is in their very blood. If anything, my mistress was intrigued and wished to learn more.”
Kisaki leaned forward. “Where was this?”
“The very island upon which I found you loitering when I came looking for you.”
“Ishigachi?” Tamiko replied. “This is starting to feel freakier by the moment.”
“Our people call them the blessed isles, although I have a feeling that would change were they ever to meet a creature such as yourself.” Tamiko stuck her tongue out at him, but he’d already started talking again. “She met your father upon that battlefield.”
“As an angel?” Stephen asked.
“No. She w
as disguised as a peasant girl. She had wanted to visit without bringing too much attention to herself. It was only later, after having spent some time with her Stephen Fuller, that she decided to reveal herself to him. She called down the mists to conceal herself from the sleeping camp and sought him out.”
“And then what?” Kisaki and Stephen both asked.
“Um, then they went ... for their walk,” Shitoro replied uncomfortably.
After a few moments, Stephen leaned back, recognition on his face. “Oh ... I mean oh! I think I get it. No wonder he didn’t want to share details with a five year old.”
“That would have made a heck of a war story,” Tamiko said.
“What would?” Kisaki asked, genuinely curious.
Shitoro coughed into his hand. “Needless to say, young lady, we have not reached that lesson in your studies yet.”
“Learning the birds and the bees from a cat,” Tamiko said, patting Kisaki on the arm. “That should be fun. Good luck with that.”
“Birds and bees? But I am well versed in the many creatures of...”
Stephen abruptly stood up. “Hey! I think we have some pictures of him if you want to see what he looked like.”
“My father?” Kisaki asked, brightening.
“Yeah. I mean, at this point, it kinda sounds like he’s the culprit here. The stories match up. Might as well go with that.” He turned, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Weird.”
“What is?”
“Well, I guess that sorta makes you my great-aunt.”
“Auntie Kisaki?” Tamiko asked with a giggle.
“I suppose this means we should start inviting you to Thanksgiving dinner.” He smirked at her. “Although, I have to warn you, some of my relatives make your background sound positively normal.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“This place is filthy,” Shitoro said. “Completely unbecoming of creatures of our stature.”
“It’s an attic.” Stephen pulled out another box. “They tend to collect dust. It’s what they do.”
“Dust and lots of boxes,” Tamiko commented from her spot on an old chair, where she was busy looking at pictures from Stephen’s past.
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