by S A Asthana
“How did you… how did you know I was coming?” Reo clenched his jaw, and drew his wounded hand further into his chest. The pain was nearly unbearable. He blinked away a fog.
Turning to his subordinate, Isao mocked, “He wants us to spill our beans.” The two shared a laugh, their hands on their bellies. Several thugs, Yakuza members, rushed in below from the hallway and tugged at the corpses.
“Throw them out where the others are,” Isao commanded. He cast an ugly grin at Reo. “Your entire unit gone in a matter of minutes.”
“A cowardly trap set to—”
“A trap you fell for,” Isao cut in. “When the families of your men cry out for explanations, they’re going to look to you, the fearless Chief of Police.” He laughed another heartless laugh. “What will you say then? Will you take accountability for your stupidity?” Isao was the living embodiment of everything wrong with humanity. But he was right.
Reo’s gaze dropped. His men, those loyal patriots, were dragged away like useless sacks of dirt. They’d died on his watch. They’d died because of his failure to see the trap. It burned inside like molten lava pushing through his veins.
Isao knelt next to Reo and traced the knife’s blade along the length of the royal’s baby-face. “Daddy’s not coming to protect you this time, little samurai.” He cut skin along Reo’s cheek. “You prissy royal-blooded fools need to understand something.” Another mark made, this time across Reo’s forehead. A line of blood trickled into his eyes. “The Yakuza don’t just take a tiny percentage of others’ profits. We don’t take leftovers.” The man was privy to the entire plan. It was as if he’d been present during the secret conversation between Reo, Etsuji and father. The blade was brought to Reo’s throat — the final cut, this was it. “We are lions and you are—”
Reo’s good hand flashed and struck out at Isao’s knife-wielding hand, forcing it back into the man’s throat, propelled by a thirst for revenge. Blood sprayed his cheeks. Isao stared at him, a look of dumbfounded shock frozen over his pallid face. He slumped to the left lifeless, and Reo summersaulted over the body, extending his right leg all the while. The heel of his boot connected with Hayato’s chin. Before the Yakuza thug could recover, Reo reached into his boot and unsheathed a dagger. The weapon was deployed with the swiftness of wind, and soon it bore its blade into Hayato’s forehead, slicing through the cerebral cortex. The leader’s right hand man stumbled under his own weight and fell over the balcony. A thud signaled his end.
Recovering his Howa, Reo noted the hall was empty of the remaining Yakuza. A lucky break. They were probably outside by now, piling the dead bodies atop one another. Reo’s lips curled into a deep frown. With his right hand still bleeding, he climbed down the ladder. Then he rushed to the hallway and entered after confirming it was empty. Seconds later, he’d exited the plant.
The Yakuza were indeed huddled together, heaping his men’s dead bodies high. There was laughter — a remorseless cackle, the merriment of eleven evil men. Fiery rage burned through the pain, and Reo lifted his injured hand, took aim and released bullets rapid-fire. Jets of blood spurted from backs and shoulders, and figures dropped lifeless. Seconds later, bodies lay together, the Yakuza and policemen indistinguishable from one another’s fate. Reo exhaled sharp breaths. Sweet revenge taken.
“Acquire the manufacturing plants,” Akiyama said in his earpiece. “Use force if needed.” A wry smile cut across Reo’s jaw. Father would be proud. Yet again, his youngest son had proven to be worthy of the responsibilities bestowed upon him.
“We are almost there.” A throaty voice cut into his ear-piece, dispersing the Emperor’s baritone. It belonged to the marshal. “How are you holding up?”
“Just fine.” Reo wiped blood from his face. “Now get here already so you can — save the day.”
CHAPTER 15: CRONE
A Martian soldier dragged the civilian woman from her quarters and threw her out into the brightly lit hallway. She crumpled, the white folds of her required cotton-dress draping the spotless floor, and protested, “You cannot do this to us. The High Council cannot kill again.”
“Shut up!” The soldier kicked her in the stomach. As she cried in pain, he complained, “They are not cooperating, General.” The soldier’s face was drenched in sweat and nervousness.
Frank’s nose crinkled. The woman continued to wail, as did several other citizens down the hall. They fought with soldiers and resisted arrest. One shouted, “What have we done to deserve this?” Another cried, “You took my husband already in the last purge. My daughter will have no one left with her if I go too.”
The second purge wasn’t coming along smoothly. Frank wanted it done with quickly just like the last one — arrest required citizens, move them to the capital punishment hall, and put them to sleep using Ethrax gas. The entire process could be completed within a few hours if not for the protests and fighting. This time around, the selected citizens, or the useless ones as they were now termed, anticipated death. Frank sighed.
It was all necessary, though. Yes, every last bit of it was necessary. The High Council had to remain appeased and distracted from the magic act being conducted under their very noses — a magic act that could only end with Alice having Marie killed.
Hastened footsteps cut through the crying and yelling. Alice ran up the hallway. A part of him was elated to see his right-hand. Surely, she’d completed all tasks asked of her. No more circus charades.
Alice clicked her heels and saluted. “For the High Council.”
“Yes, yes. Now tell me what happened to those pirates?”
Alice dropped her gaze. Something was wrong.
As the disagreements played out between soldiers and citizens, Frank pressed, “Tell me you destroyed the threat, Alice. Tell me you did that much.”
She exhaled a sharp breath. “I tried. Got most of them. But…” Her words trailed away.
“But?” Frank shot her a steely gaze. “Yes?”
“But then we realized they had possession of our 1.V10. It’s operational and it almost took us out.”
Frank nearly buckled at the knees. Could she not do anything right?
“They have our 1.V10?” he confirmed.
She nodded.
“And it’s operational?”
“Yes, General. It took out my entire command. Only my captain and I were able to escape.”
“I see.” This useless child of a petri dish continued to disappoint. Yet another failed Martian experiment, just like terraforming.
A citizen cried, “We will not go without a fight.”
Another yelled, “The High Council has turned on us.”
Frank ignored the protests behind him and kept his dagger of a gaze on Alice. He asked, “And… what about…” He spied a security camera in the ceiling. The High Council watched. They listened. “What about your target in Nippon One?”
Alice’s eyes darted from left to right, clearly avoiding his gaze. “The target is still alive. But I’m working on it.” She spoke in a near whisper.
“I see,” Frank said. Beads of sweat covered his forehead and a lock of white hair fell over it out of its designated spot. The security camera whizzed and whirred as if its lenses were zooming in on his face. “And… your assassin?”
“He is also still alive.” Was she trembling? The meek little rat.
A soldier shouted, “Stay down if you know what’s good for you.”
The woman on the floor spat, “I will fight to my last breath.”
A fire raged inside Frank. Perhaps it was disappointment, perhaps it was stress. Maybe it was both. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. Darkness. A deep breath followed, and a song played somewhere in the distance.
Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right.
A forest stretched ahead in an imagined landscape. Its trees stood dry and dead. Something snapped. A twig fell from great heights and landed on the forest bed where
brown, shriveled leaves littered.
“General?” Alice called out for him from the forest’s edge, disrupting his mind. The freak knew nothing besides adding discomfort.
He opened his eyes just as she asked, “Are you all right, General?”
Without answering, Frank turned about, pulled out a pistol from his holster and shot the woman on the ground. Blood splattered white walls. The commotion died. All eyes turned to the commanding officer.
“You murderer,” a man shouted, his eyes wide with fear.
Frank shot him as well. And then another. And another. Each gunshot echoed and shook the walls. He stepped over dead bodies, nearly slipping in pools of blood, and kept shooting. In some cases, the victims weren’t even the useless ones, but, in fact, relatives protesting on behalf of their family member being dragged away. Within the span of a few sharp breaths, the hallway was littered with corpses, some old, some young, plus one infant who happened to get in the way of a clean shot.
An old man lay in his blood, caressing his stomach wound, his hands drenched red. “Why?” he asked. Frank recalled him being a peer of his parents once. “W-why, Frank?”
Frank shot again, this time in the face. “Because I’m saving the solar system, Bob.” Frank cracked an odd smile. “Here comes the sun - doo doo doo doo,” Frank sang as he surveyed his work. “Here comes the sun, and I say — It’s all right.” So much for putting down people through humane means.
“G-general?” a soldier stammered. He had the look of a man lost and confused, as if he’d been thrust into an unknown space.
“Don’t be so shaken up.” Frank pushed his locks of hair back into place. “We are doing the right thing.” He was sure of it. “Change of plan. I want all of you to head over to the remaining quarters and shoot those on the list.”
A silence followed the directive.
“We will not shift the useless ones into the capital punishment hall. Just… take care of it in their quarters. Much easier. Clear?”
“Yes, General.” The soldiers saluted. “For the High Council.”
“Sure, why not,” Frank acknowledged, with a smile still wide.
Eyeing those citizens still standing, Frank instructed, “It would serve you well to get back in your quarters and stay put.” He flashed his brazen grin at a young boy crying over his mother’s body. It took courage to be the man standing between humanity and utter destruction. Not all could be so strong and remain sane when facing down such a monumental task. Most would lose their minds. But not me. I’m not unhinged one bit by all this task requires. “Here comes the sun — doo doo doo doo.”
Frank walked back to Alice, stepping over and on dead bodies along the way. She stood at alert, her brown eyes melting with concern. “So, where were we?” he asked, his eyes roaming the length of the pistol in his hands.
“I-I was telling you that… that the target and… umm… and—”
“Before that.” He removed the magazine to check if there were still rounds left. There was one.
“Oh… the pirates. Right. We faced off against a fleet of Barbarys. Over thirty of their crafts were taken out.” She shook. Her gaze remained fixed on his pistol. “We gave chase back to the site of New Paris.”
“Here comes the sun,” he interrupted, his eyes wilder. The magazine was thrust back into place in his weapon. “Doo doo doo doo.”
“E-excuse me, General?” She licked away sandpaper from her lips.
“Nothing.” He grinned wider like a maniacal joker. “You’re so on edge, Lieutenant General. Go on. You were saying?”
“Right.” She swallowed hard. “I was saying we followed them back to New Paris. There we saw the 1.V10 in their command. It took out three of my 1.V8s. We barely escaped.”
His stare locked her wavering gaze. The grin was gone. He was ice.
“So, you escaped and thought it smart to come back here?” She was an awkward doe-eyed freak, out of her element now.
“I… I—”
Frank cut in, “You didn’t think for a moment they could fly the 1.V10 to our colony?” He pressed his pistol’s barrel into her forehead. “You are not very smart despite your pedigree. Disappointing, really.” Gone was the joker, now replaced by a bully.
She exhaled sharp breaths. He pushed the barrel more and her legs buckled. Dropping to her knees, she stared up, revolver still on her head. “You incompetent freak. I should kill you right now.”
Her lips trembled. Tears wet her eyes.
Pulling away the barrel, he sang out in his thick Sydneysider twang, “But I won’t. Because you’re going to turn right around and find the 1.V10, and you’re going to get it back.” He grabbed her by the throat and tightened his grip. “Then you’re going to take care of business in Nippon One.” He pushed her to the floor dropped down, setting his knee on her chest and leaving her gasping for air. “Then, and only then, you’re going to come back here. Clear?”
Alice wheezed.
He removed his knee and stood. “I asked a question, Lieutenant General Smith.”
“C-clear,” she sputtered all the while massaging her throat.
“Excellent.” He put away his pistol. “Get on with it and good luck.” He flashed a smile once again. As he walked away, he imagined the hallway’s walls slowly closing in. Sweat dripped into his eyes. “Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo. Here comes the sun, and I say, It's all right.”
CHAPTER 16: REO
Emperor Akiyama’s quarters were off limits to everyone except the personal staff. Reo, along with his brothers, hadn’t been allowed in for many years. So, when he’d been summoned to this secluded section within the penthouse’s left wing, Reo couldn’t help but brim with anxiety. What did father want? Am I in trouble? Despite being eighteen, he sometimes found himself slip into the skin of that awkward twelve-year-old who wanted nothing more than to keep in father’s good graces. The man’s adoration meant the world to him.
The quarters, their compact living room flanked by a master suite and bath, and a study, were built to mirror a traditional Japanese home. Wooden frames and shoji sliding panels dominated the space, and minimalist furniture like the short chabudai table resting on the rice straw hewn tatami floor decorated the living room. It was classic Edo period living brought back to life. Reo walked in and an incense aroma wrapped him within its sweetness.
“Remove your shoes, please,” father’s voice boomed from the study.
Reo did as told. He took a seat at the chabudai, sinking into a thin pillow, a zabuton, meant for him. His eyes roamed the room’s byobu folding screen and soaked in its traditional artwork of bamboo trees. The quarters were a calming space, very different than the modern stylings of the building’s penthouse.
“Have some tea.” Father emerged from the study with a yunomi cup in hand. Taking it, Reo’s cold hands heated against the warm ceramic. Sitting opposite his son, Akiyama said, “I am glad to have you here, my little samurai.” His voice was low and soothing.
Reo kept his gaze fixed on the cup.
“Do you know why I summoned you today?”
There was no response, only a subtle shake of the head.
“You have done well in your post. There were doubts but those have been eliminated in light of your recent victory over the Yakuza.” He reached out a hand. “I am proud of you.” Reo shook it and made eye contact.
“How does it feel to have taken out the oyabun?”
Reo mulled over the question for several breaths. He spoke finally, “I feel satisfied. One less piece of filth in the city to worry about.” He caressed the wound dressing on his right hand.
Akiyama displayed a knowing smile. “You were always concerned with cleanliness — more so than your brothers. Even as a toddler, you kept your belongings in order. Nothing could be out of place.”
Reo smirked. His body loosened as if its rigidity had been driven away by the praise.
“That is why I put you into this post,” his father continued. “I knew it would turn you
into a man.” He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. A moment of self-reflection, perhaps. He finally said, “Your mother would have been proud of you.”
Something swelled within Reo like a soggy wetness. He blinked away tears. “What was she like, father?”
“Sweet,” Akiyama said, his eyes fixed on nothing within the living room. “And fierce. She was a free spirit, not one to be held down by anyone.”
This was the first time father had spoken of her in front of him. The only tidbits he’d learned of his mother had come by way of Etsuji.
Taking a sip of tea, Akiyama said, “There is something you should know, little samurai.”
Reo perked up his ears at the shift in tone. The old man, despite youthful skin, appeared his age suddenly. Gone was the upright posture, now replaced by a hunched back. The left hand trembled some. A palpable seriousness cloaked him.
“Your mother,” he started with strained breath, “she was a free spirit, as I already mentioned. Never one to be caged in by tradition. She was a commoner unlike me, and while I had willingly come into this position because of my bloodline, she had only done so because of her love for me.”
With a stare unseeing, he continued. “It was… all too much for her. The role of empress came with shackles, she would say on many occasions. I watched her spirit shrivel under the responsibilities. By the time you were born, she was a shell of her former self.”
Reo’s heart beat in his ears. What was he being told? A dark secret lay ahead, surely — one of those family skeletons which emerges from its grave when absolutely necessary.
“Suicide?” he interrupted, “Is that what happened, father?”
