Girl Rides the Wind

by Jacques Antoine

  The previous evening, in a meeting with the Maritime Chief of Staff at the naval base at Yokosuka, she suspected that, if she’d been acting in her own name instead of her grandfather’s, the admiral might well have had her arrested on the spot, and initiated his own counter-coup. At least dead, Ojii-san served her well, allowing her to take meetings with impunity, since no one would appear to gain anything by attacking her.

  The natural next thought suggested itself – once they’d solidified their hold on power, she’d have to clean house among the staff officers, perhaps six months or a year from now. Admiral Owari and his ilk were too dangerous to leave in their positions, and younger officers would owe their advancement to her.

  But would she still be among the living in six months? The looming problem, she’d buried it not even two weeks ago, was the fact that her grandfather was dead. Jin-san hadn’t inquired about him, beyond asking about his health. But soon enough an occasion would arise for a public appearance by the men in whose name they purported to rule.

  The engine noise in the cabin abated, and the pilot begin the long, slow descent into Haneda Airport in Tokyo. They would be on the ground in thirty minutes. Eiichi-san cleared his throat to get her attention again, and extended the handset to her. “Heiji-sama, it is the commander of Misawa Airbase.”

  “Forgive my intrusion, Heiji-sama,” Colonel Hosokawa began. “We have a developing situation at Hakodate.”

  Gyoshin couldn’t help but think of Jin-san’s earlier report of American fighters in Tokyo airspace. “I’m listening, Hosokawa-san.”

  “A military plane has taken an approach vector at the airport. The IFF transponder indicates that it is American. It appears to be one of their carrier-based cargo planes.”

  “Have your men taken control of the airport, as I suggested?”

  “Yes, Heiji-sama, and we have scrambled two F-15’s. We can shoot them out of the air, or confront them on the ground. AWACS out of Hayakuri reports a second, slow-moving bandit one hundred knots out, probably another cargo plane. What are your instructions?”

  A shiver caressed the hairs on the back of her neck and suggested to Gyoshin that Jin-san had failed to grasp the intentions of the American fighter planes. The changing shape of their destiny presented itself to her in shining colors. “It’s time to go down,” she thought Taka’s voice whispered in her ear.

  “Our options are limited, Heiji-sama, as is our time,” the colonel said, when she didn’t respond right away.

  “Take no action with regard to either plane, Hosokawa-san.”

  “Please repeat, Heiji-sama. I did not copy.”

  “Stand down, Colonel. Take no action against either plane.”

  “What about my men at Hakodate?”

  “If you cannot withdraw them from the airport, then have them stand down, too. It’s time to provide for your own safety, Colonel… and that of your men.”

  Gyoshin ended the connection, and glanced around the cabin. Had her people understood the substance of that call? The sound of the wind rushing over the wing grew louder, and a few moments later the landing gear dropped into position. A bump as the wheels contacted the runway, and then the engines spun up to slow the plane down. Taxiing across the airport took less time than usual, since air traffic had been reduced to a bare minimum. Gyoshin had hoped to be able to restore traffic and commerce to pre-crisis levels by now, but events had forestalled her. She had a feeling things would be back to normal sooner than Jin-san expected.

  The bodyguards opened the side-door and cleared the jetway – that was their protocol, and they were very thorough. Gyoshin turned to Rinko-san and Eiichi-san, and gave them each a wan smile.

  “It’s time for you to go home, both of you.”

  “I don’t understand, Heiji-sama,” Rinko-san said, her voice fluttering.

  Eiichi-san merely hefted his backpack over one shoulder and left the communications satchel on his seat, before stepping through to the jetway. He would understand sooner, Gyoshin figured.

  “Don’t worry, Rinko-san. You will be fine. Just go home, maybe have dinner with your mother.”

  The girl protested what she mistakenly took to be her dismissal, but there was no point trying to make her understand. Gyoshin walked up the jetway and stepped into the near empty terminal. She signaled the bodyguards to approach. “I won’t need you any more. Thank you for your service.”

  Boarding a train for Tottori was a relief, though she’d gotten used to having doors held for her. Soon the city would slip by her window, and then the countryside would unfold. Perhaps she could even close her eyes… and leave the death throes of their conspiracy to Jin-san.

  * * *

  Securing the airport had taken less time than Kano expected. The single terminal was practically deserted when his men landed, less than ten flights departing each day since the crisis began. Only one of the shops in the main arcade had bothered opening, as well as a snack bar and an automated video arcade. He’d sent Ishikawa to secure the tower, and after herding the Air Force personnel they’d found watching the entrances into a waiting area, he posted a contingent of his Airborne Rangers at key points. Another squad expedited the refueling crew so that the C-2 Greyhound they arrived in could make the return trip. Two other squads screened vehicles arriving through the automobile entrances.

  “Chrysanthemum One is ten minutes out,” Ishikawa reported over the radio.

  Standing on the tarmac outside the four jetways that comprised this tiny, regional airport, a rising breeze ruffled his hair, and Kano contemplated the wakizashi in his right hand. The saya had seen better days. Scuff-marks graced both edges and the lacquer finish had faded from exposure to salt water. Moon had suggested having it restored, but Kano already knew he would never allow that to happen. On the long flight up from the USS Nimitz, he’d drawn it, and run his fingers along the hamon that ribboned along it like the line left behind by the surf. When he dug a nail into a tiny nick in the blade, his mind drifted through memories of his father, who would never have left it in such a state.

  “She certainly got good use out of you,” he’d muttered, then glanced around the cabin to check if his men were listening.

  The electricity had faded to a mere tingle by that point, but when he’d first grasped the sword, curling his fingers around the handle to wrench it free from Diao’s chest, he’d received a jolt, which only made him tighten his grip. Slashing and stabbing with it as he charged through the Chinese firing line, his confidence grew… in the might of his arm, and the edge of the blade, in his own invincibility, as if he’d discovered the strength to conquer the world. Almost giddy with the mad power of it, he’d carried all before him.

  Looking back now, it seemed a dream, a waking fantasy. All that remained, all that really mattered to him as he stood on the tarmac awaiting the second plane, is having lived up to the impossible standard he’d always associated with his father. He’d seized the old man’s sword and wielded it in battle with no concern for his own life, even taken more than one life with it… and would bear the recriminations, possibly forever.

  “The TV crews are getting restless,” the voice of another of his men crackled over the radio. “Can I tell them anything?”

  “Teach them patience,” he replied, as his eyes followed the approach of a pair of black SUVs with tinted windows. He waved the lead driver over and stepped toward the passenger doors. A large man in a grey suit and one arm in a sling emerged from the front door, and greeted him with a grunt and what must be described more as a nod than a bow.

  “Kano-san, I hope you are right. Coming here is a terrible risk.”

  “We have taken what precautions we can, Ozawa-san. A better opportunity will not come.”

  “Is she here? Her Highness will want to see her.”

  “No, she is still recuperating from her wounds.”

  Ozawa pulled the rear passenger door open and two very distinguished and quite anxious personages peered out. The woman reached for Kano�
��s hand, and it startled him to find her so close, not the impossibly distant and brittle figure he’d imagined. She steadied herself, and then allowed him to bow deeply. He didn’t quite know how to address her, or the man who stepped out immediately after. They had been the Crown Prince and Princess, and the events of the next few hours could well decide whether they would become the new Emperor and Empress of Japan. A year ago, and perhaps even more recently than that, he would have had no opinion on such a question, considering them relics of a bygone age. But now, he couldn’t have had a keener interest, and even fancied that he would give his life to ensure their ascension, convinced the future stability of his country depended on it.

  “She is not here, your Highness,” Ozawa said over Kano’s shoulder.

  “What a pity. I would have liked the chance to thank her, and an occasion may not present itself again.” Her husband nodded his assent to this proposition.

  A dull rumble in the distance had grown loud enough to be recognized by the ear, and all four of them turned to watch as a white-and-grey, fixed-wing turboprop lumbered across a hazy horizon. Kano growled a command into the handset of his radio. “Release the news teams, but caution them to maintain a respectful distance.”

  A moment later, a dozen or so people in suits, or carrying bulky video cameras, came jogging across the tarmac. Kano signaled a few of his men to set up a perimeter, and the tires of the aircraft screeched when they made contact with the runway. It took another minute or two to taxi around from the lone runway, the noise of the engines growing louder as it approached. The pilot swung the plane around at the last moment, cut the engines, and lowered the tailgate.

  An austere honor guard of heavily-armed Rangers strode down the ramp formed by the tailgate, and the crowed that had gathered to observe began to murmur in expectation, until finally Tsukino came into view, one arm in a sling, the other holding the hand of the little princess. When she saw the people staring at her so intently, she stopped to look up into Tsukino’s face for some indication, and at his nod she ran to her parents while the cameras whirred and clicked and flashed.

  The family stood for a moment to allow photos and video, and then walked toward the terminal while Ozawa stayed behind to answer questions.

  “You have done my family a great service, Captain Kano,” the Prince said. “As well as a service to the nation.”

  Kano stared at him in silence, searching for the words to say, as well as some clarity about what sentiments he wanted to express. Eventually, and with a certain suddenness, they came to him.

  “Forgive me, your Highness, but I did so little, I hardly deserve any recognition.”

  “I’m sure you are being modest, Kano-san,” the Prince said.

  He bowed, and hesitated to speak again, but couldn’t hold his peace. “She did it all…”

  The little princess chirped out a pet name: “Ama.”

  “She slipped into their camp in the dark and carried Princess Akane to safety. She brought her out to us… and when enemy fire disabled the helicopter, she rushed back into battle to buy time for the repairs. She risked everything… sacrificed herself.”

  A cloud passed across the Princess’s face at these words, as if she feared the worst, not thinking that such news would surely have been transmitted to her already. “She still lives, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, your Highness. She is recuperating at Sasebo.”

  “Tenno-san may be deserving, but we cannot afford to recognize her valor in public,” the Prince said. “If it is any consolation, by honoring you we honor her in the only way available to us.”

  “She will understand,” the Princess added.

  Inside the terminal, deserted though it was, everyone they met wore expressions of extreme astonishment, as they came closer to a figure of august majesty than they ever could have imagined. Kano’s men showed the news crews where they might set themselves up, and where the Prince might make a public statement against a backdrop more suitable to his aims.

  * * *

  “Oh my god,” Yuki said, her hands pressed to her cheeks. “I can’t believe this is happening in my lifetime. He’s… he’s…”

  “Yes,” Michael said, as they watched the video feed in his study. “He has come out of hiding and taken a stand.”

  “What is the time delay on this?” Andie asked.

  “Eleven hours. Japanese TV broadcast his address last night.”

  ‘Oh my god,” Yuki said.

  “We have reports that most of the military has backed him. The support for the coup plotters has largely evaporated. Police units have begun scouring the countryside, rounding up collaborators, and the Prime Minister… or, at least, the former Prime Minister has endorsed the Crown Prince.”

  “What about his brother?” Andie asked. “Didn’t they already put him on the throne?”

  “Evidence suggests that was the plan, but they hadn’t begun the formal ceremonies yet.”

  “I wonder how the Crown Prince feels about that.”

  “We have to go to Tokyo,” Yuki said. “We have to go now.”

  “It’ll take some doing,” Michael said. “They’ve suspended international flights into Narita and Kansai.”

  “Can’t you pull some strings?” Andie said “Or maybe we could fly Space-A.”

  “I don’t care how we do it.” Yuki had already turned to leave the room. “But I have to get there right away.”

  “You realize she’s going upstairs to start packing, don’t you?”

  Michael nodded, and picked up the phone on his desk. “All three of us are going, then?” he said, though Andie had already left the room, undoubtedly on the same mission as Yuki.

  Chapter 30

  The Kaishakunin

  “I thought you were supposed to be taking things easy, LT. You know, bed rest, mushy food, that sort of thing.”

  Durant and Perry had been looking for Emily all over Sailor Town, after Racket mentioned seeing her crossing Albuquerque Bridge. The previous evening, they’d all been together for an informal ceremony over Tarot’s body, before it was shipped home – and she’d been in a funk ever since. The bar was noisy and she wasn’t drinking, and the bartender was too preoccupied by what was flashing across the big TV screen in the corner to complain.

  “Have you been watching this stuff all morning?” Perry asked.

  “Since we opened at eleven hundred hours,” the bartender said, before realizing that the question wasn’t directed at him.

  The newsfeed replayed the same images of tanks firing into the distance somewhere in China, and fighter jets being catapulted off a couple of unnamed US aircraft carriers. At the bottom of the screen, more recent events were detailed in a continuous loop. Soga Jin’s face flashed on the screen and a talking head announced that she and her father had committed suicide. A dozen or so other notables were reported to have taken their lives as well. The whereabouts of Heiji Nobutada and his daughter, Heiji Gyoshin, were yet to be determined.

  “Is that Captain Kano?” Perry asked, when the coverage shifted to an official ceremony somewhere in Tokyo. The English-speaking commentator went silent, and all that could be heard was the address in Japanese by the Prime Minister. “And there’s Ishikawa.”

  “Yes,” Emily said, finally willing to speak. “They are being honored for their part in rescuing Princess Akane.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Is that the Crown Prince?” Durant asked. “The one standing next to the Prime Minister, that’s him isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and the woman next to him, in the silver gown, is the Crown Princess.”

  “You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

  Emily glowered at him, and Durant fell sheepishly silent.

  “I bet Kano and Dice are still celebrating,” Perry said.

  “Those women, the ones who were behind all the mischief…” Durant paused to collect himself. “Didn’t we meet them at Narashino? I mean, weren’t they on the parade ground that day?”

  �
��All the suicides, that’s how they’ll resolve this,” Perry said. “Will there even be any prosecutions?”

  “Do you think the police force them? I mean, aren’t they really more like executions?”

  “It’s all about honor and shame, not fear.” Emily finally spoke, and was not able to conceal her irritation. “Jin Soga took her own life rather than face the dishonor of having failed.”

  The newsfeed cycled back to images of the ceremony honoring Kano and Ishikawa, though by this time, the bartender had turned down the volume.

  “Why wasn’t Tsukino included?” Durant asked, pointing at the TV. “I thought those guys were thick as thieves. Was there some incident I didn’t hear about?”

  “I don’t exactly know,” Perry said. “Kano just decided to exclude him one day. It happened right after Diao’s people ambushed you and Em. He practically threw him into the brig.”

  “But then, Tsukino ended up escorting the little princess. It’s all kind of mysterious. I just don’t get those guys.”

  “She was his childhood sweetheart.” Emily seemed even more annoyed than before as she said this, as if she had no expectation that they’d understand such sentiments.

  “Who was whose sweetheart?” Durant asked.

  “Tsukino… he loved Heiji Gyoshin.”

  “… and she loved him?”

  “Exactly, until her family put an end to it.”