HOSHOKU: IN THE APOCALYPSE, A HERO RISES (The Hoshoku Chronicles Book 1)

by Vincent Fields

  Tak took it all in, unable to say anything at these revelations. His dad continued, “From then on your ancestors served as Samurai for the most elite social caste throughout every period of Japan’s history. Due to their gift they tried to remain hidden, unofficial and behind the scenes; but they were the greatest protectors of ancient emperors and shoguns in Japan’s history. The meditation exercise that I have passed on to you was taught to me by your Japanese grandfather and is detailed in your family history book. It cultivates your gift. It enables you to access it. There are several stories that were carefully recorded and passed down to this day of Takamura Samurai saving emperors and shoguns from assassination in feats that sound… well… impossible… but with my own eyes I saw the same amazing gift of speed that you have in your mother’s father; your grandfather Kenji Takamura. He was slow to accept me into the family, but when it became obvious to him that your mother and I truly loved each other and intended to spend our lives’ together, he opened up to me and treated me like a son. He taught me many things and made sure that I was well informed about the Takamura’s special heritage and meditation technique. He knew that you would exist someday; and he passed on instructions for me to pass on to you, and for you to pass on to your son someday. They have been carefully recorded in the family history book that I will give you later today.”

  Tak listened in wide eyed wonder. He had been waiting for this information for many years. The pieces were coming together in his mind. His father continued, “You need to understand that whenever a woman has a male Takamura child, she always dies during childbirth. Always. This is supposedly the fulfillment of what Yukitaka was told when he first received the gift; that there could only be one Takamura with the gift per each generation. This has been accepted as an honor for the Takamura women, as they know that they are producing very special offspring. For hundreds of years the women in the family have kept having children until a male child was born. I guess your mother was “lucky” the first time. She was able to hold you in her arms, kiss your forehead, and say in her maiden language; “Takamura, I love you and my spirit will always watch over you”. Then your cord was cut and she peacefully passed from this world.”

  Mr Graves looked up to the sky in reflection. A glimmer of moisture could be seen in the corner of his eye. Two squirrels chased each other around a tree some 30 yards away, but neither man made a move to shoot them. The cool breeze felt nice on their faces, and they both knew this was a day they wouldalways remember. “Your mother was a very special woman Tak… she was the kindest, most selfless person I’ve ever known. She nervously explained the secret of her bloodline to me before we married. I knew that she would die when we had a boy child, and I had to accept that fact to marry her. She carried on the Takamura bloodline and had to pass it on. She was emphatic that it was her duty and her destiny, and that her ancestors have always made the world a better place. She made me swear that if I married her I would to teach you the ways of the bushidocode; that your character would embody loyalty, courage, compassion and honor with a respect for life as you became a modern day Samurai.”

  Tak finally understood why his mother had died during his birth. He felt a longing for her now that he had never felt before so strongly. He felt the weight of responsibility growing in him. Tears rolled down his tan face. His father continued, “You will be a man soon Tak, and you will make a positive change in this world. It is in your blood… it is your heritage. You come from a long line of ancient protectors. The ability to slow time down according to your perspective while it carries on normally for other people must be used and guarded carefully. When you concentrate and live in the moment as time appears to slow for you, you become what your ancestors referred to as Hoshoku; which is a predator. You will use this gift to prey upon the evil and corrupt men who walk this earth. Son, you must always choose to be a good man and help others. You gain a great advantage over any adversary, and you must never abuse that ability. Takamura warriors have killed bears and lions with their bare hands without even getting scratched. They have caught arrows mid-flight and overcome seemingly impossible odds many times. You will be able to overcome several men at once in battle, Tak. It is your destiny to be a force of good in this world, battling the evil and corruption you see along the way. You won’t have to search it out; your destiny will find you wherever you are. The better you get at meditating, the longer you will be able to maintain focus and remain in your slowed view of reality while time flies by for everyone else. But you mustn’t allow your secret heritage to be known by the world; else it would surely be sought out by those who would abuse it for their own greed.”

  CHAPTER 6: GROWING UP

  The Graves lived about ten miles outside of city limits in the country on 500 acres of wooded property. They lived in a rustic but nice log home with a fireplace, two bedrooms, one bathroom with a large jacuzzi tub that Mrs. Graves’ had insisted on having, and large porches on all sides. A full size, finished basement served as a storage area for canned foods from their garden, and held a large brick and rebar secure gun and panic room with a thick steel prison door. They had a thousand yard shooting range and a 10-acre pond that was stocked with bluegill and crappie. The roof of the home was covered in solar panels, which charged a large battery bank in a shed behind the house. Two wells provided clean water that was piped directly into the home. There was a large fenced in garden out back with over a dozen types of vegetables in neat rows. Behind it was a root cellar, and behind it in the woods was a hidden underground storm shelter. It was a self-sufficient off the grid set-up, as Mr Graves had carefully planned. Between the deer and other game on the property, their garden and water wells, they could theoretically survive here indefinitely.

  They had a large pole barn for storing various equipment, supplies, and a tool shop. Another building served as a private dojo. It was filled with exercise equipment, punching bags, gloves, and protective gear of all types. Several real and practice weapons were hung on a rack that they trained with extensively. A large area was padded for practicing grappling and throwing. Tak spend a lot of his time training in their dojo. While his father would teach his regular classes at his dojo in town, he would use this private building for training in which Tak could utilize his supernatural speed. It had become a laboratory of sorts to test and push Tak’s limits. Tak’s friend Nathan was his long time training partner; the only other person who knew about his gift of speed. Together, under his father’s watchful eye, they spent many hours in combat training in which Tak was free to explore, understand and cultivate his gift.

  Also on their property, out behind their house was a log cabin building that served as a guest house. It had eight bunk beds in it, a fireplace, and basic, rustic accommodations. Sensei Graves build it to house visiting students to his dojo. People would often come from around the country to train with him for a weekend. Once a year he would hold a private training camp and the bunkhouse overflowed and would be surrounded with dozens of tents of visiting students as they trained both self-defense and survival skills in the woods behind his house.

  After Tak was told about the nature and origins of his gift he became completely focused on his training. He felt that he had now been given a purpose that he must prepare for, although he wasn’t sure of exactly what it was. He went from a 140 pound skinny kid to an impressively ripped, 180 pound elite athlete. By the time he was 18 he was doing pull-ups with 100 pounds of weights hanging off him. He could do over 20 this way, or over 100 pull-ups with no added resistance. He could walk on his hands as comfortably as a normal man could walk on his feet; even while doing the splits and balancing 20 pound dumbbells in the arches of each foot. He would do multiple pushups from this position, displaying amazing strength and balance. He found that his ability to focus and slow time according to his perspective allowed him to perform acts of balance and acrobatics that no normal human could ever do. Regardless of what he was doing he could just slow time and adjust his body to regain his balance
when necessary, with ample time to spare. He could quickly climb a 50ft rope to the top using just his arms, let go and free fall while doing a flip in mid-air, and then catch himself with one hand on a spot about 10 feet lower on the rope. He could catch arrows fired from a crossbow as easily as a normal man could catch a slowly tossed softball. He found that when he focused and became Hoshoku, a second of real time seemed to be about 10 seconds to him, and sometimes more if he concentrated very hard. After slowing time he would need several moments to refocus before doing it again; almost like mentally catching his breath. The more he practiced and meditated, the longer and more times in a row he could slow time before needing a break. He was always careful not to be seen using an obviously unnatural level of speed, as he had been instructed by his father. He didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Tak spent a lot of time training with his father and learning various survival and life skills. They were close, and while his father was strict and serious about Tak’s training, he was also a very loving and caring man.

  That summer after he graduated high school, Tak joined the Marine Corps. He was a perfect fit for the elite Reconnaissance unit that he tried out for and earned the prestigious Medal of Honor during his service. Near the end of his four year enlistment he received news that his father had had a heart attack and was on his death bed. He wore his dress blue uniform and went to visit him in the hospital. As Tak walked in to the room his eyes filled with tears. There was his dad; hooked up to multiple monitors, IV’s and machines. He went immediately to him and took his hand. His father’s eyes slowly opened. A hint of a grin emerged on his right cheek. Tak tried to speak but choked on his words. His father whispered, and Tak drew close to his ear; “Son, I love you and am proud of you. Your mother is too. I will be with her soon. Be sure that you continue on the Takamura line. Have a son and teach him as I have taught you. You must pass on your gift.” Tears were streaming down Tak’s face. “I will dad… I promise I will. And when I do I will name him after the greatest man I’ve ever know… you dad. His name will be Charles Takamura Graves.” A sense of relief washed over Mr Grave’s face. “Great son; that’s all I was waiting for. Now, I’m going to go be with your mother. I love you and will always be with you in spirit until we are reunited again in heaven.” And with that, a smile spread over his face as Mr Graves slipped into eternal slumber.

  CHAPTER 7: THE BOOK AND THE SWORD

  The afternoon when they got back from the hunting trip in which Mr Graves had revealed to Tak the nature of his gift and the account of his ancestors, he took him to their hidden underground storm shelter in the woods behind their home. As he saw they were heading to it, Tak asked, “Why are we going in here dad?” His dad replied, “Well, there’s a bit more of the story to tell, and this is where I keep your family history book and sword.” A confused look came over Tak’s face, “My sword? What sword?” Mr Graves chuckled, “You didn’t think I spent so much time teaching you Kendo and having you train in the Phillipino martial arts for you not to have a sword did ya?” Mr Graves walked down into the storm shelter and went about 10 feet in and turned to the right side wall. He reached up on the five foot tall shelf and moved some plastic storage bins that held emergency supplies, placing them down on the bench against the other wall. He then motioned for Tak to look closely at what he was about to do, and where exactly he was doing it. When he was sure that Tak’s eyes were carefully following his fingers, he pushed a spot on the wall above the shelf. As he did an indention in the wall appeared that revealed a carefully hidden cutout in the fiberglass shell of the wall. It had been undetectable without first pushing on its edge. Mr Graves pushed the right side in, which caused the left side to come out about a half inch. He pulled the left side out with his fingertips and removed the fiberglass cutout, which was about a foot tall and five foot long. A hidden space behind the wall was revealed that went in about three feet. It was made of the same waterproof fiberglass material that the entire shelter was made out of, and had obviously been customized before the original shelter had been put in the ground.

  Mr Graves reached in and removed a large black Pelican case from the hidden opening in the wall. Behind it lay a large black backpack with several plastic dehumidification boxes sitting inside the hidden space. He nodded towards the pack and said, “That’s my “get out of Dodge in a hurry” pack. It might come in handy for you someday.” He sat the case on the bench and opened it. On the far left side of the case was the family history book, enclosed in a sealed clear bag with several small dehumidification packets in it. On the right side was a sword. The book was large and ancient; standing almost two feet tall, four inches thick and a foot and a half wide. It was made of the highest quality materials and had been carefully preserved by each generation it had passed through. It had a dark brown cover with large Kanji characters written on it. A pair of clean white cotton gloves was in another sealed bag. He said “If you ever handle the book, make sure you wear clean cotton gloves. The oils from your skin will damage it.” Next to the book was a small USB flash drive. Mr Graves showed it to Tak, “On this flash drive are scanned pages of the entire book. There is also a copy translated into English. I have another version saved in an e-mail that I will send you later today, so you’ll always have a digital backup.”

  Tak nodded and listened respectfully, but what he was really excited about was the sword lying in the foam cutouts on the right side of the book. Ever since his father had opened the case he could hardly take his eyes off of it. His dad carefully lifted it out of the Pelican case. It resembled a katana sword in shape but wasn’t as long; being only about three feet total - with a foot of that being its handle. Its scabbard was a worn but beautiful, deep, rich ebony color. The black steel handle was about a foot long and wrapped in some black material that resembled eel skin. Mr Graves removed it from its scabbard, and it came out with a sharp sounding “shting”. The sight of the blade took Tak’s breath away; it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It was two feet long from tip to the handguard, and was made of a semi translucent smoky dark, wavy glass-like material that almost seemed to pull the surrounding light to its core instead of reflecting it.

  He held it still in front of Tak’s face, whose eyes were the size of saucers. A golden inlay of Kanji characters encircled the tsuba handguard between the blade and the handle. He let Tak soak in its splendor for several seconds. “This is a wakazashi sword. Yukitaka fought with one this same size all his life before receiving this one. He preferred its speed, mobility and quickness over the larger katana sword that most other warriors used. Plus it is easier to conceal and wield indoors. According to your family history book, during the blessing ceremony right after the earth stopped shaking, a small meteorite impacted nearby. At that time Shogun Yoritomo commissioned the greatest blacksmith in all of Japan to make this blade for Yukitaka out of that meteorite material. He spared no expense in it craftsmanship and construction. A note in the book says that it was a very difficult material to work with and could only be sharpened when it was cooling from its liquid form. It took the master blacksmith almost two full years of daily work to complete this weapon, which he claimed was the finest blade ever made. He said that once cooled it became unbreakable and that its complete sharpness could not be dulled. Again son, I don’t know if I believe all of that about the gods blessing your ancestor and sending him the material for this sword, but I’ll tell you this; this is a weapon like no other I’ve ever seen. For a blade that is getting close to 900 years old, it doesn’t show any signs of aging. There’s not a scratch anywhere on the blade and I’ve never encountered anything remotely as sharp as it is. You have to be extra careful with it son… its weight alone, with no force in the swing, is enough to easily sever a thick tree branch. It’s been passed down through the generations of your ancestors and used in countless battles, yet still it has never dulled. Heck you couldn’t sharpen it without melting and cooling it anyway. The Kanji on the tsuba says, “TAKAMURA- BLESSED BY THE GODS”. Ev
ery part of this weapon except the full tang meteorite blade has been replaced several times over the almost nine hundred years since it was created. The other parts eventually wear out through hard use, but the blade won’t. Anyway son, this belongs to you… it is your birthright. Now you know where it is in case you ever need it. I pray that you won’t.

  CHAPTER 8: ROLL CALL

  9:05AM, The day of the crash

  Chief Brooks of the Marion police department stepped up to the podium in a large conference room inside their station. The Chief was a tall white man with a medium build. Since his hairline had started receding a few years back he just kept it shaved bald these days, but he still kept his dark soul patch of hair just below his bottom lip. His face was leathered by many off-duty hours spent in his pontoon boat. He was looking forward to retiring in six months. All of the 25 full time officers and 10 auxiliary officers had been called in to duty this morning after the news that stock market had collapsed and people were doing a run on the banks. However, only 14 officers had arrived so far. Several had called in, conveniently “sick” during this time of crisis. Chief Brooks had an especially serious demeanor about him and was pacing the floor. Sergeant Graves and his lifelong friend, Sergeant Nathan Naff, were seated next to each other near the front. Two other Sergeants were seated next to them. Each Sergeant was typically in charge of a dozen officers per shift.