Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2)

by L. M. Vila

  The vehicle began to slow down in front of a large wooden gate painted in a fiery red color. It was shaped similarly to a torii, commonly found in entrances to Shinto shrines and other places of worship. Davis marveled not only at the wonderful architecture which was easily several centuries old, but also the significant spiritual purpose it served. These structures are said to be the dividing line between what is pure and what isn’t. Any family that has one of these magnificent gates in front of their home must be one worthy to bear such divine importance indeed.

  Michael parked the vehicle nearby in a plot of open land where several other cars were parked. It was fairly common for the Yamatera’s to have visitors every once and a while since this place proved difficult to visit to on foot so they made the proper accommodations.

  “Let’s go,” ordered Michael as he turned off the ignition. He stepped out of the car slowly and watched Davis do the same. They slammed the doors simultaneously with Michael holding back a bit as to not make a loud sound. He figured on a typical Monday morning, the students would all be out in the yard training. Those who weren’t in school anyways. Michael approached the gate with caution surrounding each taken step. He needed to tread carefully. His return was going to be quite the event and would be met with unparalleled enthusiasm from everyone but the FBI agent. There would be a tidal wave of emotions rushing through these lands today, none of which he cared to confront.

  Michael could tell that his companion was immediately impressed with the sight before his eyes. It was a beautiful piece of imagery. Almost as if it were pulled straight from a painting. A large mass of young students litter the main garden just beyond the gate. They moved in unison as if controlled by one person. Punches snapped against the stagnant air. The instructor carefully guided his strikes and his students followed with incredible accuracy. Even though they were a fraction of their teacher's age, their movements flowed as if they'd been practicing for centuries.

  Two massive shrines followed the garden on the east and west sides covered with masterfully crafted hunter green roofs. The shining red paint that flowed down from their peaks on meticulously hand carved lumber gave them a regal appearance. About halfway down the garden an arched red bridge connected two sides of the village where a shallow but mighty river flowed in-between. A school of koi fish swam underneath as they always have for centuries.

  At the end of the village stood a large mansion. Massive in girth but had a pristine and elegant look to it. With just a first glance, no one would know or believe it was almost five hundred years old. It appeared as if it were erected yesterday which proves just how much attention to detail the Yamatera clan have given to their paradise.

  Another pair of buildings close to but not attached to the mansion sit idly by. The west holds a large dormitory where the students would stay when they weren't in school during long training sessions over the spring and summer. Across from that to the east is the indoor dojo which is nearly twice the size of the outdoor garden training area. When the weather becomes too unbearable, this is where they train. No one could have asked for a better picture of spring weather on a day like today. The cherry blossom trees are on the verge of blooming and the glorious flora that surrounds the entire village gives off a sweet and luscious air that is almost good enough to eat.

  Michael approached the gate and his eyes immediately caught a young boy blitzing his way out of the entrance of the east shrine. A buttered piece of toast was clamped tightly between the confines of his pearly white teeth as he ran through the garden barely holding onto the backpack slung over his shoulder.

  “Ryosuke! You haven't finished breakfast.” Shouted a women from the shrine's entrance.

  Her features were delicate and soft which complimented her pearl colored skin. Time has done wonders for her age. She could have easily passed for a college student. No one would have suspected she was a mother of a high school student.

  “I know mom,” he countered back turning his head while running. “But I'm going to be late for class.”

  His lack of attention to the road ahead cause Ryosuke to slam head first into Michael's firmly retained stance. The teenager collapsed to the ground with what remained of his breakfast sent spinning in the air. The banana landed on the top of his head. It’s perky potassium filled core stuck out like a horn with trickles of fleshy hair flowing down over his face.

  “Ow,” he replied to the shock of both the unforgiving wall he slammed into and the hard cement ground that gracefully caught his fall.

  His eyes opened and looked up and the towering black suited structure that stood before him. The man looked like a titan. He was so strong and fierce from just an initial glance. It sent crashing thoughts of fear into his mind. They lingered there for the longest moments until Ryosuke got a good hard look at the man's face.

  “Ma-” he started stumbling on the words that barely seemed to squeeze their way out of his throat. “Madison-san?!”

  He shouted much clearer this time. The very uttering of that name cause the entire school to seemingly shut down in an instant. The instructor and his students threw their gaze at the site of the disturbance.

  The boy shot to his feet in such rapid succession it sent the piece of toast flying backwards.

  “You've returned?”

  Without giving a proper greeting, Ryosuke took off like a bolt of lightning back through the garden and towards the mansion. He couldn't believe his eyes. Something was telling him to continue not believing it. It has been over a decade since Michael Madison left this school but his legacy as a student here still lives on as if he never left. Ryosuke knew that there was one other person who had to hear this news first. They've been waiting so long for his return. While most of the village had already lost hope years ago, these two held their beliefs that the legendary warrior would come back and take his rightful place among them.

  Students that stopped their training in the middle of class would normally be scolded with harsh and brutal exercises meant to demoralize them from ever doing so again. Based on current observation, even the instructor would be forced to join in the punishment. He stepped away from the students slowly approaching the men at the entrances dressed in polar opposite colors. As he approached, the name that the young boy had yelled had soon matched the face of someone he couldn’t believe had finally returned.

  “Could you be,” he started.

  Even at fifty years of age with grey streaks of hair covering his panther black scalp this experienced man would still be as inquisitive as even hi youngest student.

  “It is. Michael Madison has come home.”

  The words came out of his lips with a mix of shock and delight.

  Chatter erupted from within the large mass of students. They immediately rushed towards their instructor and swarmed around him. All of them had heard stories of the legendary American warrior who trained at this school. Getting invited to learn the secret arts of the Yamatera clan was a challenge in and of itself, even more so for a foreigner. Many have come and gone throughout these wall. Many received fame and accolade amongst their peers. Most go on to do bigger and better things beyond their wildest dreams. However, the legend of that very man who trained and surpassed all of his teachers, including the grand master of the Yamatera's before he graduated high school, surpassed them all.

  The children continued to gawk and talk among themselves while still keeping their distance from the FBI agent. None of them ever thought the future heir to the Yamatera clan would arrive so suddenly and without warning. All of their questions muffled that of even the instructor's words. Michael had secretly expected this kind of reception but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't find any way to prepare for it.

  “Shiori!” Ryosuke shouted while simultaneously slamming open the sliding door. Heavy breaths quickly entered and exited his lungs supply his body with much needed oxygen after the dead sprint he had just performed.

  “What is it Ryosuke?” Asked the increasingly more annoyed
woman.

  She didn't even turn away from her writing to face him.

  “Aren't you late for school?”

  He continued to pant while bent over and grabbing onto his knees to support his tired frame.

  “Ma,” he interjected between breaths, continuing to do so for a few brief moments.

  Shiori quickly grew more annoyed. Being interrupted in the middle of her draft was a capital offense in her eyes.

  “Out with it,” she ordered.

  “Madison-san!” He finished, proud that he was able to get out all of the words he wanted.

  That name sent shockwaves of emotion coursing through Shiori's body. Her throat dried and instantly became as coarse as sandpaper. The monumental weight of her heart dropping at the same time nearly caused the faint hold of consciousness she had at that moment to slip between her delicate fingers. She slowly turned to face her fatigued cousin to see nothing but the most deadly serious face plastered on his expression despite half his face being covered in melted butter.

  “Madison-san has returned!”

  Shiori dropped her pen and rushed to her dresser. She quickly snatched a small black jewelry box buried within a not too obvious hidden compartment and blitzed passed Ryosuke before he could blink twice. She didn't even bother slipping into a pair of shoes. Staining her bare feet with the dirt and soot outside was hardly a cause for concern given the circumstances. Shiori made it to the arched bridge and her eyes immediately focused on the crowd of students gathered at the entrance. They were all surrounding a pair of men seemingly excited upon their arrival. Her gaze focused on the one with raven black hair and a serious posture she buried into memory from so many happy memories years ago.

  “Madison-kun,” she whispered to herself.

  Though normally drowned out under the sounds of the students currently in awe, Michael's enhanced sense of hearing was easily able to pick it up. Her gentle voice made a lasting impression on him. It was normally reserved when she was serious, scared, or sad. In this case, he couldn’t pinpoint any of those specifically. Her usual upbeat and chipper demeanor had completely vanished. Shiori's expression was sullen. Her body trembled in his presence. Michael turned his eyes away from the students and stared back at her. They all became silent and looked towards where his eyes have wandered.

  She was still just as beautiful as he remembered. Her silken black hair parted off to the right shined in the morning's light and rested softly at her back. She was petite and delicate, average in height but remarkable in looks. Her cream colored skin was perfect in every way and shadowed only by the radiance of her delicate pink lips. Despite their years spent apart, Shiori looked like she hadn't changed at all. That was as intended no doubt. Shiori promised herself to never change, not even a single day, until Michael returned. She vowed to be the exact same person when he came back because she loved who she had become while he lived here.

  Twelve years was a long time to be away but the Yamatera's aged considerably well. Even the grand master himself was well over a century old before Michael left back to America but given enough preparation, he could still move with the strength and resolve of a teenager.

  Shiori continued her approach. She walked slowly towards him never once averting her eyes from the FBI agent. Students began to slowly part away and created a path towards the legendary student. All of the stories of heroism they've heard originated from Shiori herself. She always told them with a happy expression on her face and heart filled with love.

  “Is it really you?” She said still holding onto a shred of disbelief.

  While everyone else had already given up hope and begged Shiori to move on her heart did not waver. It merely strengthened her tenacity. She continued to walk through the path created by the students and stopped immediately once it ended. Only inches separated them. Michael towered over her by almost a foot in height. His eyes never left her nor did his expression change. Everyone stood and watched holding onto a titanic flood of anticipation, including and especially the young Paladin standing next to him.

  “Shiori,” Michael started.

  He didn't have many words left for her nor did he know what else he could say. The last time they spoke wasn't exactly one anyone would wish to remember or carry on in their heart for years to come later. Michael never thought she'd continue to hold onto those feelings after all of this time and especially considered the way he ended things but seeing the tears welling up in her elegant brown eyes confirmed Shiori never gave up on him. Michael could feel the guilt taking a permanent residence in his thoughts.

  She tried desperately not to falter with her words. This moment had been playing in her mind for years and years. She wanted it to be perfect. Her tiny lips formed a bright smile while titling her head up and slammed down two tears wading through the gentle curves of her cheeks with a single blink. That carefree and chipper expression Michael had come to know over the years had returned. For a single moment, his heart bounced to a different beat as she uttered the words she had been waiting to say for twelve long years.

  “Welcome home.”

  March 24th, 2013 6:54PM

  Washington, D.C.

  Meryl let out a huge sigh of relief as she plopped on the king-sized bed. She let the robe and neatly tied towel on her head work their magic and soak up as much ambient moisture still stuck to her light brown skin. A long hot shower after a weekend like she's had was incredibly therapeutic. She scrubbed and cleaned every inch of her body for a good 30 minutes. Most of that time was spent allowing the hot cleansing liquid to gently wash over her and simply enjoy the feeling of being clean and free.

  The guys at the Bureau HQ spared no expense making Meryl feel comfortable in their home town. Staying at the Ritz-Carlton was already a nice bonus but having a one bedroom suite all to herself was luxurious. A pair of nice couches filled the living room area facing a generously sized LCD television. This place was bigger than her apartment. Granted, this wasn't the nicest hotel Meryl has ever stayed in; far from it digging back to certain memories but definitely the best of the best in the last decade or so.

  A good fifteen minute break on the bed felt like an eternity. The mattress was so damn soft she felt like the bed was slowly eating her inch by glorious inch. Meryl fought with herself just to sit up. She jumped back in the bathroom and dropped the towel and robe on the ground. Her hair had almost fully dried but she figured the pillow will take care of the rest. No need to delay the inevitable. Meryl was really looking forward to this part. She slid into her panties and draped herself in a soft cotton shirt before diving under the covers. The sheets fully wrapped around her skin as she crawled into her favorite position. Her head was nestled in the confines of the pillow as she instantly found the center of total relaxation and comfort.

  The day's events began to replay in her mind. This job didn't seem as hard as she originally thought. Nothing compared to some of the cases she's been on since joining the Bureau. At least she could take solace in an easy assignment this time. The next few days were going to blur together. Nothing but training, studying, and practicing. Meryl pushed those thoughts aside and allowed herself just to enjoy this moment and not worry about the future.

  D.C. really wasn't a bad place. As Meryl shut her eyes, falling deeper into the arms of sleep with every passing second, she placated the idea of giving this place a second thought. Though she always called Los Angeles her home, Meryl could definitely see a career in this place. Sleep had just about enveloped her. The last thought that passed through her mind before it took hold was how funny it would be trying to convince Michael to help her move.

  March 25th, 2013 8:01AM (local time)

  Iwate Prefecture, Japan

  Arms wrapped tightly around Michael's waist. Shiori buried her head in his chest with an endless stream of tears soaking his shirt.

  “They kept saying you wouldn't comeback,” she sobbed trying to keep her voice from cracking. “But I knew you'd return. I knew I'd see you again.”

>   Michael felt a tickle of remorse attempting to invade his thoughts. He always knew his return would cause emotions to run rampant. However, Michael never realized just how much Shiori would let them show in this moment. He had hoped her feelings would have settled and inevitably force her to forgetting all about him. Not once did he suspect this kind of reception. She looked more in love with him now than she ever did.

  The gentle embrace of Michael's muscular arms completely enveloped Shiori's body. He held her close, almost as if he were trying to say I'm sorry more than I’ve missed you. She continued to cry into his chest. She was so small and delicate, a good breeze looked like it could knock her over yet she was able to last over a decade waiting for her love to return without ever giving up hope.

  Breaking off the embrace, Michael placed his hands on Shiori's shoulders and pushed her back softly. He looked into her eyes. She could see her reflection bright as day off the sunglasses he wore and quickly realized how atrocious she must look right now. Her cheeks were red and puffy. Beauty had seen better days but Michael never saw her as anything less. Shiori quickly wiped away her tears with his fingers still wrapped around her gentle frame. She looked up to face him. Seeing that stoic expression of hers made her feel like a kid again. Hiding a smile was impossible.

  “Who's your friend?” Shiori asked.

  Her voice had finally seemed to revert back to normal and her inquisitiveness hadn't lost a step either.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Davis replied.

  He gave a short bow, piecing together what he's read about Japanese culture and tried to show as much respect as he could.

  “My name is Davis Tristan LeClair. I am honored to be present in such a magnificent piece of land you have here.”

  “He doesn't speak-” Michael cut in.

  “T-Thank you,” Shiori replied looking fairly quizzical.

  Michael shot his companion and equally puzzled stare but still masking his full surprise. The words that came out of his mouth in plain and clear English. Michel was sure he heard him correctly but Shiori apparently understood everything he had said.