Kusanagi Part 1

KUSANAGI

1

Hakuro Sanubi sat cross-legged on top of a large mountain, meditating. He listened to the swiftly moving staffs of Aikido students as they sent tremors through the brisk, wet air; creating bursts of wind that whispered into the forest depths. Voices blurred and became indistinguishable from the pouring rain. Nature’s perfume of earth and grass and alpine trees saturated his senses like a drug or perfume. The hardness and erosion of the concrete plaza stiffened and froze his limbs; but he stopped noticing. He sat in the locus position─ staring through closed eyes. The odd sensation that comes over a person in meditation came over him; the mind slows down, thoughts dry up like a river going from spring to summer; numerous, then a trickle; then they cease entirely. Who knows how long he sat like this; an eternity; five minutes? Time stops in meditation; everything stops. Sometimes only an interruption can break the spell. The rain stopped. The spell broke. He opened his eyes.

Now thoroughly soaked, his gi, a lightweight martial arts garment, did little to keep him warm. He stood― barefooted. A warm rush of blood swept in waves to his extremities. Hakuro drifted over to a large tree on the right side of the plaza, away from the students, away from hikers. He took off his navy blue shirt and rung the water out. Loose, black pants clung to his legs. A rainbow peeked out from a curtain of fog. Hakuro shivered.

“Hakuro-san, done meditating?” an old voice said from behind.

He turned. A small shrine, less than two grown men in length, stood at the back of the plaza. A golden mural of the mountains and an ancient village covered the white walls. Cranes, rabbits, fish, and many other animals sat etched into the lively scene. Fishermen fished in the streams and women cooked outside their wooden homes. Beautiful? Yes, but the beauty of the murals and natural surroundings pale in comparison to the strange cone-shaped, distinctly un-Japanese roof. Etchings of flying Nagas― eight headed snakes― weaving in and out of each other, biting, slithering, coiling; in the middle of the frantic fray stood a beautiful girl with long tresses and a simple gown. She held a sword. The Kusanagi. The snake sword.

Hakuro bowed in respect to the old, short man standing in the shrine’s arched doorway. The man’s long gray beard contrasted badly with his nearly baldhead. Wrinkles covered his skin, giving him the appearance of dried fruit. The pure white robes of a Shinto priest covered him like a shroud. His geta sandals gave him an appearance of floating on the earth.

“Yes, I am finished,” Hakuro told him. He came to visit the old priest often, both Aikido lessons and lessons on meditation.
“Come inside. You have been out there all morning,” the old man said. His wrinkled face broke into a smile.

Warmth washed over his face and hands, like a soft breeze, causing his skin to shiver and bump up. Incenses from lone shelves stifled his breathing. Sitting mats rested on each side of the shrine and a wooden table stood in the middle, holding a tea set. This was the tea chamber; separate from the main hall of the shrine; where the real treasure is. Golden walls papered in ancient stories of the warrior Yamato-Takeru and the Taira warriors of a later (though still ancient) time caused the place to feel old; though in reality the shrine happened to be one of the newer ones. Painted on the far wall, another picture of the girl with the sword stood. She floated in space, tranquil and serene with a serious edge. Long bluish hair wrapped around her small figure. A simple, long-sleeved, white dress swayed around her as if caught in the wind. In her bare arms, she clutched a simple, Bronze Age sword; straight like a reed, and a silver color so bright it could be white. Not a fighting sword by any standards; rather the sword is magical; it can control the wind, it came from the tail of a naga. Or so they say.

Below the mural a small fireplace consumed the wood and ferns fed to it. Hakuro sat down on one of the mats, nearest to the flames.

Hakuro took off his wet clothes and handed them to the priest, who placed them on a rack above the open fireplace. The priest then handed Hakuro a white kimono to put on. Hakuro watched the smoke form in the fireplace as he dressed. It coiled up into the cone and escaped through holes in the serpents’ mouths.

“I thank you again for allowing me to see the tablet.” Hakuro said.

“You are very welcome, Hakuro-san.”

“Do you think the ancient stories are true?” Hakuro asked. The priest gave Hakuro a cup of tea.

“Isn’t that what you are being sent to find out?” He sat facing Hakuro. “Aren’t you one of those… those people who study old things?”

“Yes, an archeologist.” Hakuro paused in thought, then continued. “If the stories are proven false, then wouldn’t that discourage the unification of our people?”

“That is why the people are not to find out unless you bring them the sword.”
“So if I find nothing, then I get nothing in return for going?”

“It is an honorable mission,” the shrine keeper said.

Not if no one knows about it. Hakuro’s watch beeped, interrupting the serenity of the place. “Excuse me sensei, I must go. My plane leaves at one.”

“How can you ride those things?” the old man said. “I would be terrified.”

“Planes have been around since before your grandfather,” Hakuro said. “Why should you be terrified?”

“The entire thing is driven and controlled by robots. I could never trust my life in the hands of a machine.”

Hakuro smiled, then bowed. He took his clothes off the rack, and left the shrine to begin the hike back down the mountain toward the city of Nara.

2

Nara; ancient Nara, the traditional city, ancient capitol of Japan, of the people of Nippon. Tokyo may be the Wall Street and lifeblood of Japan, but Nara housed its soul. The people of Nara wore kimonos in an attempt to revive tradition as part of a movement started several years ago. Ancient castles and old shrines still stood around the city, like a gateway to the past, a place any historian, conservative, or archeologist would love.

And Hakuro loved Nara, but he felt relieved to get away. Nara felt restraining, a safe and comfortable place to live, but restraining. Not that Hakuro minded forever being a part of the college environment and tradition, but before he settled down, he wanted to prove himself. He wanted to stretch his legs and get a taste of what his father loved so much. Hakuro didn’t want to be like his father, forever going on expeditions until he never came home at all. He only wanted to try to understand him, and possible regain the family honor his father had lost. Hakuro didn’t even know if his father still lived.

He followed the switchbacks down the mountain, past Jizo statues, and shrines, and gardens, and people─ things he didn’t bother to notice. He knew the exact time it took to walk down the mountain and the location of every trail. He strolled down absent-mindedly─ after all; landscapes seen routinely aren’t worth examining─ and, consequently, felt surprised when his feet stumbled on the distinct texture of concrete. He had reached the base of the mountain, and didn’t realize it.
Before him stood a small train station, painted red with a traditional curved, gabled style roof. Hakuro entered through the automatic sliding door. A computer responded by welcoming him into the building. He sidestepped a small floor-cleaning robot─ a robot that waxed an already spotless floor─ and strolled over to one of the many computer terminals on the walls.

“Bioscan complete,” the computer stated. “Entity recognized as Hakuro Sanubi. How may I be of assistance?”

“I would like a train ticket to the Japan Rail Station in Nara.”

“Records show that you have tickets to travel on Japan Airlines at the Kangai Airport. To continue your trip, would you also like us to buy tickets to Tennoji Station in Osaka and the Japan Rail Station to continue to the Kangai Airport?”

“I had planned on going home to pack first.”

“Records show that your mother, Maya Sanubi, has already sent luggage, for Hakuro Sanubi, to the Kangai Airport. In light of this information, do you still wish to proceed home?”

Hakuro felt surprised for the second time that day. She’s angry, Hakuro thought. He considered going home anyway, but realized that his mother didn’t want to say good-bye. When Maya got angry, she didn’t yell, she simply shut down and ignored you completely. I’ll change clothes at the airport. He thought. “Going home won’t be necessary. Proceed with the first route.”

“RoboNippon Enterprises apologizes for the two second delay. Have a nice trip.”

Hakuro took his ticket and receipt from the wall slot and joined the masses of people boarding the trains. Once on, he took the first empty seat he saw. A young adolescent girl in a blue school uniform soon joined him, but the two paid no attention to each other.

After a short ride on the rail, Hakuro entered the Kanai Airport, the first airport built on a manmade island, and one of the largest international airports in Japan. The barren landscape of runway outside contrasted strangely with the overcrowded buzz of activity within. Hakuro went to a computer terminal to have his ticket scanned, then checked to make sure his luggage had arrived…

***
He gazed out the window. A mist of clouds lay as snow in the sky. Where the veil lifted, Hakuro saw the sea. The ocean surged in all directions, eating away at the Chinese coast, where Hakuro planned on going. He had no idea what to expect. He checked his watch anxiously. Did his people actually come from this continent? Hakuro’s father had believed so. Hakuro didn’t miss his father much. He hardly knew him. The last time Hakuro had seen him he had been twelve.
A flight attendant offered Hakuro some nado. The android appeared so life-like that it became easy to forget. Hakuro didn’t take the nado; he hated it. Laying back in thought, he recalled his fateful meeting with Councilor Kojuro Yarama, the Kiitsu political leader.
***
Although efficiency is the nature of Japan, Tokyo defines the word. The city itself seems stuck in a permanent state of fast forward. People, cars, bullet trains, scooters, they all zoomed around like flies, each following the paths created by neon signs and tall buildings and roadways, telling them where they should be and what they should do. Nothing is left to chance. Every person, place, and thing has a purpose and belongs to a group or two. Those who don’t get run over; they get lost, like a sock that falls behind the dryer and is forgotten.

All this did not penetrate Hakuro’s mind as he walked through the city, trying to find his way to the House of Councilors. Instead he felt awed. Tokyo stood as a giant among cities, home of the stock market, and home of more AI’s and hydrogen technologies than any city in the world. The AI’s in Tokyo controlled everything, from room temperature to navigation of all transportation to garbage clean up. The city worked like a machine, pumping the lifeblood of cash and jobs into Japan. The efficiency of it all took his breath away.

Never mind that no one knew where the raw materials came from. Australia perhaps? China? No one knows, no one questions, no one cares. It’s the lifeblood they want.

As Hakuro entered the capitol campus, he noticed a large crowd gathering around a fountain. On the edge of the fountain stood a young man, apparently giving a speech. Red pants, yellow shirt, and a blue blazer along with sunglasses completed the man’s outfit. Brown hair highlighted in red told Hakuro his identity─ Yoshie Teguro, a local musician turned political activist. As Hakuro moved nearer, he heard him speak.

“─ plague is over! Has been for over half a century. Why should we continue to remain in isolation as our raw materials and food sources continue to dwindle and be rationed?” (They have been ‘dwindling for decades, thought Hakuro) “Why continue to stay in the dark about the outside world? Why be selfish when we can give a helping hand to our neighbors and receive materials in return? Let us end this isolation, and usher in a new era─”

The crowd drowned out his voice.

On the capitol campus remained some of Tokyo’s oldest buildings, constructed in the early part of the twentieth century. Hakuro entered one of them; the Members’ Office Building. He ambled self-consciously over to the nearest computer terminal and waited for a robotic escort. The miniature machine, shaped like an upside down trashcan, lead Hakuro to Yarama’s office, a spacious office lined in white wallpaper and red carpet. Yarama stood in front of the desk, obviously impatience for Hakuro to arrive even though Hakuro’s appointment didn’t start for another five minutes. His impatience lasted only a moment, for Yarama immediately began to talk.
“Hakuro Sanubi! What an honor.” The large, brawny man’s eyes twinkled.
Kojuro Yarama had one of those larger than life personalities, always in control, always openly cheerful. Earlier on the train, an intern had warned Hakuro that Yarama’s cheerful exterior hid his true self.

Yarama bowed and shook Hakuro’s hand repeatedly, like a car dealer selling a used automobile. Hakuro agreed with the intern’s advice. The man felt fake, from his smile to his clownish purple suit.

Hakuro bowed. “The honor is all mine.”

“Walk with me.” Hakuro struggled to keep up with his long strides as they walked down the wide corridors, dark despite the off white walls. “Ever been to Tokyo?”
Hakuro thought Yarama must have come from Japanese American immigrants. “No sir-

“Then I will arrange a tour for you before you leave.” Yarama suddenly stopped in front of a door. “Now, down to business. Do you know why I asked to meet with you?”

“No sir.”

“I’m funding an archeology expedition to the Asian continent. I had originally asked your former instructor, Mineko Ikuo to go, but she is unable to attend and suggested that you go in her stead.”

Hakuro’s breath caught in his throat and his mouth gapped open. Me? Go on an expedition? Expeditions were rare enough, but one off the islands was almost unheard of since the world plagues had ended. Hakuro had never dreamed of going on an actual expedition, only of being a teacher at the college.

Yarama’s smile broadened.

Hakuro felt faint. “I’ve only just graduated-“ he stuttered.

“At the top of your class, I hear.” He placed his hand on Hakuro’s shoulder. “This expedition is based on much of your father’s work. You will have an opportunity to bring great honor to your family. Come, let me explain the details.”
Hakuro stopped gaping and hurried after him. This was an offer he couldn’t refuse.
***
“We will land in 15 minutes,” the computer’s voice blared from the intercom, interrupting his thoughts.

Hakuro sighed in relief, because the large man beside him smelt like rotten cream cheese. Hakuro had told him he planned on looking for the snake’s sword. The man had laughed. Hakuro leaned back in his seat, put another piece of gum in his mouth, and awaited the slow descent toward the ground below.

3

Utemuro Matsuda, leader of the Sakoku Party, sat ridged behind his mahogany desk. The television screen on the far wall showed Yoshie Teguro speaking. Matsuda signed. “Irony falls on deaf ears,” he muttered. “Idealistic fool.” He commanded the screen to turn off. “What is it, Miss Akio?” He said; referring to the aid he knew stood outside his door. The aid, a young woman in a conservative brown suit and glasses entered the room.

She bowed. “I have the records of Yarama’s expenditures you asked for.” She handed him a brown folder.

“Thank you.” He said, bowing. “Interesting.” Matsuda rubbed his chin. “What is this expedition he is financing?” Matsuda’s round, brown eyes hardened. Being one of the few Ainu Representatives, he took his job seriously, especially anything which threatened it.

“According to our insider, it is to send a group of archeologists and anthropologists to the main land in an attempt to find the mythical snake’s sword.”
“What!” Matsuda stood up, his red and white kimono almost skirting the floor. Yarama, that maniac! He knows what happened last time! Matsuda thought. What is he up to? “He must not get it.”

Excuse me sir, but isn’t the snake’s sword just a myth?”

“Off course,” Matsuda said, recovering himself. He looked at a picture on the wall, then turned back toward his aid. “Miss Akio, please contact Reiko Amori on teleconference.”

“Yes sir.” She bowed, then walked to the computer terminal in the next room.

4

If something is broken, it should be fixed. If it can’t be fixed, it should be replaced. This course of action is what any rational being, wanting to continue an efficient way of live, would do. Also, its common sense. But humans aren’t rational, and those with common sense rarely have a say. Broken objects remain in use until some critical point is reached; a point of no return, a point that results in human tragedy. The Guangzhou Airport hadn’t reached this critical point yet, but it came close.

The ruination of this particular building came after decades of garbage and gangs and graffiti and gallons of people eroded the inside, leaving sediment of trash and caves of bullet holes. They say the security guards came to work only half the time. They say the robotic pilots barely run on nearly dead batteries, they say that the functioning robots are controlled by hackers. Few computers, no heat, no air condition, no locks, no running water, no moving walkways― barbaric; no control. Only masses of people in an old dirty shoe box of a building that lets the rain in. Hakuro saw the people like rats stuffed together in an alley of filth.

Could my people have actually come from here? He thought, side stepping a fallen trash can, casualty to a silent war. Cloud-like breaths rose like steam from masses of mouths. Shards of glass crackled underfoot and graffiti laced the walls in black and blue. No wonder his people didn’t believe they had originated here. How could the citizens allow their buildings to become so… trashy? He hoped the rest of the continent wasn’t like this.

He grumbled to the luggage conveyor― that miraculously still worked― and stared at it, clinched fisted, willing his duffle bag to appear like someone in terror of never seeing it again. Taking his bags, he quickly scrambled outside to escape in an air taxi. What did his father like so much about this place?

Traveling by air taxi became a new experience for Hakuro. No computers, no AI, the thing just ran by simple human ingenuity. Human ingenuity doesn’t cut it anymore. Hakuro didn’t feel impressed. Stains and breadcrumbs created a splashy mosaic on the brown upholstery. Hakuro couldn’t help but notice the human driver. Machines handled most tedious jobs in Japan.

He looked at him self in the rear view mirror of the taxi and straightened the cuffs of his light blue shirt. Every once in a while he leaned back a little, only to sit ridged again. The air taxi fought its way through an obstacle course of people, trains, and cars. Trains crawled everywhere, crisscrossing the dull, gray, industrialized city. Even the Pearl River seemed tainted, with its gray, metallic ships sitting in port. The wind blew fiercely, trying to knock down the buildings obstructing its path. Hakuro could almost see the dull gray buildings sweeping the sky.

“There are many people out today.” Hakuro said.

The driver laughed. “Most of the people are inside today due to the unusual wind. The weather is usually fantastic.” The man chucked again. “A little fidgety are we?”
Hakuro blushed and said nothing.

“You must be meeting someone very important. Business people perhaps?”
“No, a group of archeologists.”

“How interesting.” The man said. “You know, Guangzhou has quiet a history. This port city was once known as Canton. It used to be a major port for Westerners in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In fact, it was this trade with westerners that lead to the corruption of our government, and the mass rebellions and immigration which occurred in this area…”

Hakuro stopped listening, finding the Mandarin a little difficult to follow and the conversation boring.

The taxi driver stopped in front of the Xuan Hotel. Hakuro stepped onto the curb.
“So, how much money do I—

Suddenly, a huge fireball devoured a portion of the hotel above Hakuro’s head. Hakuro dropped to the ground. People screamed. Debris rained down like snow…

5

“Dead!” Yarama banged his fists smartly on his desk.

“Apparently, the explosion was caused by a group of terr-

“How could anyone have possible known about the expedition!” Yarama yelled again, interrupting the Chinese policeman on the telescreen. “Damn it! I cannot afford to organize another excursion. Those were the best group of archeologist I could possible put together!”

“The attack may not have been aimed at the expedition. Perhaps radicals―”
“No. They attacked the exact floor the expedition stayed on. It was planned for them. Now my own plans are ruined.”

“But sir, not all of them were killed. Hakuro Sanubi is still-

“What! Why did you not say this before? Go get him.” Yarama said. “I will not let this mission be a failure.”

Yarama tapped his fingers furiously, until a dirty and ragged looking Hakuro came into view. Hakuro brushed the dirt off of himself the best he could. He appeared dazed.

“Hakuro! Thank goodness you’re alright!” Yarama said in a cheery voice.

“Ye-s sir,” Hakuro stuttered.

“Are you staying anywhere?”

“No, not at the-

“Good. Now, I know the other archeologists suffered an … unfortunate accident, but you know what they say, the show must go on. Surely you’re capable of finding your own accommodations, though I would suggest one in an obscure area-

“You’re not canceling the expedition?” Hakuro’s blood-shot, dreary eyes suddenly took on a look of fear and dread.

Yarama instantly became serious. “No. The expedition is too important. You’re an intelligent boy. Surely you can handle this on your own.”

“But sir-

“Don’t worry about anything!” Yarama said, a little too forcefully. “I will give you unlimited use of credentials. You can buy all the equipment you need and hire a few people to help you out, as long as they’re natives.”

“Are you absolutely sure, sir?”

“Yes, yes, everything will be fine. I have all my confidence in you.”

“But sir-.” Hakuro said weakly.

“Look, don’t bother arguing. If you’re not being paid enough, just let me know.”

“It’s not that sir. What if the terrorists come-“

Yarama became angry. “Hakuro Sanubi, there is no one else I can trust to do this. You either bring me the sword, or don’t bother coming back. If you even think about returning with out the sword, I’ll ruin your life. No money, no college job, no livelihood, no honor. Do you understand?”

Hakuro turned livid. “Yes sir.”

“Good. We are in agreement then. Yarama out.” He smiled smugly at his reflection in the telescreen.

“Sir, do you believe it’s safe to trust this whole expedition to one person?” A female aid said from behind Yarama’s desk. “And what of the terrorists?

“I have no choice, besides he won’t be noticed. As for the terrorists, I already know who they are. I have implanted a spy to foil them. Too bad he didn’t arrive in time to stop the explosion.” And to think I once thought Masuda too soft to do such a thing, he thought.

The aid had the look of someone in the mist of protest and with hundreds of unanswered questions. But she knew better then to open her mouth. She knew what would happen if she did, the same thing that would happen to Hakuro should he fail― death.

6

Political plotters hide in the dark of every political agenda. Where are the good guys? Divorced by shadow and locked away; drowned out by a masked assassin waiting to kill them. Either the assassin wins, or the good guy is left with a crucified reputation. Politics isn’t a game, it’s a war; a war for world domination, and the good guys are hung up to dry. Assassins fester in Guangzhou like a plague. The city gave birth to most of the secrete societies and criminal organizations in China, and is the home of many foreign ones as well.

A man cloaked in black hides in the shadow of an alleyway. He watches as Hakuro walks past. “I’ve spotted the survivor,” the man says into a speaker hidden in his sleeve. “Should we kill him too?” His sarcasm is too subtle to notice.

“No, don’t kill him,” a feminine voice said from the speaker. “Follow him, but don’t let him see you. The boy may have some useful information.”

“Agreed,” the man said, and disappeared into the crowd.
***
Stripped and tattered carpet clung to the remains of a sagging floor while plaster added it’s own little glitter. Cracks and holes covered once white walls. In the center of this room, stood a tall, bulky man. He had the physique of a bear, and the pound to match. The man wore a large white shirt and a pair of khakis. A bun kept his long black hair on his head.

Society has always been about he elite keeping down the poor. The elite use many methods of subversion. One is the old capitalist lie; another is the one about communism. Society hates the poor, the rich use them, the rest ignore them. All of society is dependent on them. They are smelly, stupid, lazy, worthless― no. Not any of these. They are only made to seem that way. How do they fight back? With a society of their own― a crime filled one. They even have their own stock market; a black one. But, as they fight back, the government fights back too.

The large man with the bun glanced at his watch. When he looked up, the person he had been waiting for stood before him. From her pocket, she removed a small dagger. Its blade, jagged and crudely made, had small marks written across to its point in the shape of a snake.

“This will sell big on the black market.” The girl told the man.

“You work with the market often?”

“Yes, whenever I’m in town,” she said. “The market here is excellent.”

The man smiled. “Then you have just announced your fate.” He took the dagger away from her.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she yelled, just as another man entered the room. This man was shorter, leaner. He wore a police uniform, his badge and gun clearly visible.

“You are under arrest for illegal involvement with the black market!” the cop said.

“I don’t believe this!” the girl yelled. She spun around and made a run for it.

7

Hakuro had spent the night at the police station, answering questions and taking naps on the couch. The next day, the chief treated him to a shower and some clean cloths. He wore jeans and a khaki shirt. Soon afterward, an officer came to dismiss him. One of the officers had given him the address of a tavern, saying the food wasn’t too good, but he would probably find it to his liking.

Hakuro walked to the tavern, disliking the idea of riding in the air taxi. He found the tavern and walked inside. The front consisted of small, round, wooden tables and chairs, all western style. In the back, a wooden counter stretched the length of the wall. A bar covered half the space behind the counter and a large open grill took up the other half. Every thing appeared to be made of wood, including the beer containers and the drinking mugs.

Pictures of Europe covered the walls showing great castles, funny people in funny clothes, motorcars and great cities from long ago. Posters and signs flashed everywhere. These little pieces of Europe had somehow found their way to the orient. Surprising, because the plague had destroyed most of western civilization, and yet made logical sense given Guangzhou’s history with foreigners. Had Hakuro not been stuck in a state of reverie, he probably would have enjoyed looking at everything.

In Nara, Hakuro’s hometown, they never would have allowed the place to exist. Japan valued sanitation, and the most recent technology. All the food had to be cooked in special ovens, which were sanitized every time they were used; each meal had to be specially arranged.

Only seven people sat in the tavern, all at their own individual tables. Hakuro took a seat at the counter. The man working behind the counter happened to be the first person Hakuro had ever seen who wasn’t from the orient. The tall, stout man had bushy brown hair and wore jeans and a grease-covered white shirt. A towel stuck out of the side of his pants. Hakuro couldn’t help but stare.

“What can I do for you?” the man said with a definite accent. Possibly Russian.

“I’d like a glass of water, please,” Hakuro said.

“Sure, anything to eat?”

“Is it legal to cook food like that?” Hakuro asked.

“Perfectly,” the man said. “You from the islands?”

“How did you know?”

“It was obvious.” He said, giving Hakuro his water. “What’s your name?”

“Hakuro Sanunbi.”

“Muriyaki’s son?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Your father got most of the stuff you see here in this room,” he said. “My name’s Viktor, by the way.”

“You knew my father?”

“He was a customer,” Viktor said. “When he couldn’t take the stuff with him, he left it here. Figured I would appreciate the items more than anyone else. So, what brings you here?”

Hakuro smiled to himself, and shook his head. “I’m looking for the snake’s sword.”

“Didn’t your father look for that sword?”

Hakuro signed. “Yes.” He said reluctantly.

“Did you watch the news on that explosion yesterday?” Murray asked. “You didn’t happen to be with that group of archeologists in that hotel did you?”

Hakuro stiffened. “I was part of their expedition actually, but I didn’t know anyone very well.”

“That’s too bad. I suppose the expedition was cancelled then?”

“My financier wishes to get something for the money he invested.” Hakuro said harshly.

“What a bastard.” Viktor said in Russian, then in Mandarin, asked. “Where do you plan on looking?”

“I’m not really sure,” Hakuro answered. “I have some notes from my father, but they don’t give an exact location.”

“Sounds like you need a guide,” Viktor said. “I know where you can find one.”

8

Hakuro tramped down the pebbled sidewalk, glancing at the paper with Murray’s directions on it. He held something called a hamburger, which he thought tasted like a big wad of lard. The wind flowed around the skyscrapers like a fish in a whale’s mouth. The wind started to pick up. Rain seemed inevitable.

He found the street. “There must be a mistake,” Hakuro mumbled. The slums before him lay about like tattered rags, torn and forgotten. The houses barely stood. Hakuro signed and started to walk down the street. He heard a yell in the distance and ran toward it, only to crash into someone wearing a brown, hooded poncho. They became entangled and tumbled to the ground.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” A female voice shouted.

Hakuro stared, too shocked to be angry. “Sorry.” He stammered as they both stood.

The small girl who stood before him wore shoulder length auburn hair in two French braids. A red bandana kept her bangs out of her face. Freckles painted her skin. A black shirt hugged her body tightly and her green camo pants were worn and patched. All filthy and dirty― until he reaches her eyes; eyes that hold the essence of green sea grass and show the ravages of the sea. Cold, unforgiving eyes, that yet contained a sparkle of innocence and harrowing depths.

“Hakuro Sanubi,” Hakuro stuttered.

A puzzled look came to her face. “What?”

“That’s my name,” Hakuro said, embarrassed. He noticed two men walking down the street toward them. One wore a police uniform and the other, larger man had on a white shirt.

“That was me.” She blushed.

As the two men came up behind them, the large man grabbed the girl from behind and the police officer drew his gun. She hiked her leg up and hit the large man in the head. He released her and fell to the ground. Hakuro grabbed her in a body lock, making sure she couldn’t kick him.

“Let me go!” she yelled.

The large man slowly stood again.

“What do they want you for?” Hakuro asked.

“I was accused of working in the black market,” She said, still struggling.
“She was caught with an illegal weapon,” the officer interrupted, “which she was trying to sell on the black market. Probably bought it from the black market, too.”

“I found it,” She argued.

“What was this weapon?” Hakuro asked.

“A dagger,” the girl replied. “I found it in the jungles south of here.”

“Well, whether that’s true or not, you’re still under arrest,” the officer said. “Hand her over.”

Before Hakuro could do anything, the girl flipped Hakuro over her head and threw him on the ground, then took off running, her poncho streaming behind her. Hakuro got up and chased her. So did the cop and the large man. She ran to the end of the street then ducked down an alley. Hakuro followed her down the alley and into a house where he found Reese kneeling by a mother with two children. She gave the mother the twenty bucks. The mother smiled thankfully and left with her children. She turned to Hakuro.

“Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No,” Hakuro said. “I’m not a police officer.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Why did you give it to them?”

“They’re homeless. They need it.”

“Do you give the poor all your money?” Hakuro asked.

“I need to eat, too, yah know,” She said.

“Doesn’t your government take care of them?”

“No. The cops will be here any second. I suppose you’ll turn me in?”

“You said you found that dagger in the jungles south of here?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

Are you Reese Rosenov?”

She nodded in the affirmative. “Look, we better leave while we still have a chance.”
Hakuro, not knowing what to make of the situation, followed her. They went out the front door of the house. The sky had grown dark and they could feel the static in the air. Then the rain started to come in sheets.

9

“Come on!” Reese grabbed Hakuro’s hand and ran across a street. They dodged in and out of traffic, raced down another alley, turned right, and finally entered the back of a building through a heavy metal door. Hakuro found himself in a food storage room, where chunks of meat hung from strings tied to the ceiling. Circles of cheese sat on shelves, vegetables filled wooden bins.

“We’re in the tavern,” Reese said. She strode to the front of the storage area and opened another metal door. They emerged behind Viktor’s grill, the heat striking Hakuro like a wooden stick.

“Hey Brea!” Viktor called to her. “Find yourself a seat.”

“If you knew the cops were setting me up, then why didn’t you tell me?” Reese asked him. She hopped over the counter and took a seat at the nearest table. Hakuro walked around.

“Maybe if you came here more often I would a,” Viktor said. “Hey Brea, you want tea?”

“Sure.”

“I would like some also,” Hakuro said. He sat down opposite her. “Brea?”

“It’s a nickname,” she said. “So what about this guide thing?”

“I’m on an expedition to find the snake’s sword, to use as a symbol to unit our people,” Hakuro explained. “Kojuro Yarama, the Kiitsu political leader on the island of Honshu, hired me to find the sword. My homeland is suffering great divisions among its people, mainly between the Kiitsu and Sakoku political parties. The Sakoku want to dominate the islands and remain isolated from the rest of the world. The Kiitsus’ goal is to unify the entire eastern world under one rule. The Kiitsu believe that if I find the ancient sword, it would prove that a relationship between the continent and the islands existed. This could help bring us together and unify us.”

“I see,” Reese said. “And you want me to help you find this ancient sword?”

“Yes,” Hakuro answered.

“You know, this could cost you a large sum of money, depending on what you plan on doing,” she said.

“The Kiitsu have supplied me with a large sum of credits. I can buy anything we need,” Hakuro told her.

“In that case, tell me about the sword.”
***
Utemuro Matsuda gripped the sides of his chair tightly. “What is the meaning of this, Reiko Amori! I hired the Koritsuka Squadron to stop the expedition from taking place, not to kill innocent people!”

“Same thing.” A woman said through the telescreen.

“Stupid girl! Do you have any idea how much trouble we’ll get into if you’re caught! You could single handedly cause a war with China, divide all of Japan, and loose both of our jobs, if not our lives.”

Amori began to laugh, a laugh that soon turned into a hysterical wail.
Matsuda’s eyes widened considerable. “Amori, what is the matter with you?”
The terrible sound emitting from her mouth instantly stopped. “Not everyone in the expedition died. One boy survived. If we capture him, then we could derive information from-

“Amori! No! This mission is over. You are to return immediately! I never should have hired you for this mission, given the history of your father…”

“A history that you were a part of, as was Yarama. Not all people are as weak as you. I’m sorry, Matsuda,” the female said. “But this mission isn’t over.”

“I will no longer provide you with any support.”

“Good. As of now, I no longer work for you.”

“Amori! What do you mean? Get me Muriyaki! Amori! Amori!”

Utemuro Matsuda spoke to a blank screen.

10

Hakuro took a sip of his tea, then began his rendition of the snake sword story. “Sometime before the third war, a large, flying, ship fell from the sky, and crashed in the middle of a large desert. The natives explored the site, and discovered a beautiful girl running away from a horde of snakes. She couldn’t return to the sky, but the people sheltered her. The emperor from Japan heard of this beautiful girl said to be a god. He went to meet her himself, and gave her a tour of his empire. In return for his kindness, she presented him with a gift, a magnificent sword.”
“It was in the shape of a serpent, representative of the snakes that chased her. ‘The sword’s a key,’ she had told him. ‘It has incredible power. It can cause war and death, or make peace and prosperity, simply what the owner wishes.’ She made him promise to use the sword wisely. The emperor became greedy, and broke his promise. He used the sword for power and put personal gain above the needs of his people. Consequently, the girl took the sword away. She and a large group of followers left the emperor’s capital city on the island of Honshu and returned to the desert. The emperor was outraged. He sent his army after them to retrieve the sword. The girl and her followers headed south, into the jungles, and built an underground city. When the emperor’s army arrived, they were brutally defeated. She allowed a few of the soldiers to live, giving them the message, power is the way to-

“Corruption.” Reese finished. “I saw that written down on a stone plaque in the jungles of Thailand. I had a native translate it for me.”

“Then that is where we will go.” Hakuro said. “We can fly there tomorrow and be back with the sword in a week or so.”

Reese laughed. “Do you have any idea how far away that is? There’s not a transportation system going there. The countries in that area are mostly blocked off, to quarantine the people in that area who had and may still have a biological plague. Last time it took me a little over two months to get there, and then I only came back with a few trinkets and that dagger the cops stole. There’s no guarantee that we’ll even find the sword at all.”

“Why all pessimistic?” Hakuro said.

“Because you are so naive.” She answered. “Besides, I don’t particularly like it down there. Many of people have died trying to get that sword.”

“Look, if you don’t want to go, so be it. Give me a map and I can rent a plane and go there myself.”

“I doubt it,” Reese said. “The area you want go to is closed to air planes, and even if you could get a plane to fly you there, the plane would have no where to land.
Besides, you wouldn’t make it a day in the jungle without me.”

“I have lots of credits. I could buy a plane and pilot if I wanted to.”

“Yes, well, I would hate to be responsible for being the person to send you to die alone in the jungle. Besides, I never said I wouldn’t take you down there, and with all the money you supposedly have, you can pay off the police for me. I might even be able to get us a pilot…
***
Viktor allowed Hakuro and Reese to stay with him until they left for the jungle. Viktor’s home, on the second floor of the tavern, had five rooms, a living room, a bathroom, a study, and two bedrooms. Reese would sleep in the guest bedroom, and Hakuro on the couch. The next morning, they left Viktor’s and flagged a taxi.

“Are you sure this man is a trustworthy pilot?” Hakuro asked.

“He was a pilot for 20 years, he’s retired now.”

“And he will know what we need?”

“Of course,” Reese said. “Chang spent 10 years working in the jungles of the Africa, and acted as a transporter for the Japanese military the last time your country came down to get the sword. Actually, the road they carved into the jungle is still there, though it’s mostly overgrown now.”

“I guess it’s safe to assume the military didn’t find it.” Hakuro didn’t know about these past expeditions. Part of him wanted to believe she was lying, but he knew she spoke the truth. Society often lies to mask it’s failures.

They sat in silence. Hakuro felt awkward. He always felt awkward around her. She seemed so different, exotic compared to Japanese girls. Something stuck him about the way she spoke. It wasn’t her accent. At first he couldn’t figure it out, but then it came to him. She spoke with blunt confidence. The taxi stopped. They got out.

“His house is at the end of the street so we’ll have to walk.”

The air temperature had slowly warmed since Hakuro’s arrival, and the rains had become a soft mist. The houses in this residential area resembled a 20th century western neighborhood. They looked like they hadn’t been taken care of in just as long. Weeds dominated each spacious yard. Whatever the color the houses had once been had eroded away.

“This neighborhood was originally made for rich Chinamen who could afford to live as westerners. As you can see now, these houses are pretty run down and forgotten.’ Reese said. “Chang’s house is the one that looks like a junk yard. You could call him a bit of a pack rat.”

Reese’s assessment of Chang’s house seemed to be correct. A mountain of junk hid the pilot’s front yard. Heaps of old jeeps and biplanes, uniforms, parts of jets, robots, and gadgets littered the area. Hakuro noticed a large artillery gun in one corner and nearby an old metal platoon boat. The spotless house gave a stark transition when compared to the yard. Fake grass with plastic flowers surrounded the house, as if a buffer to keep the garbage at bay. The house appeared to be only one story; the walls an unusual shade of faded blue with purple trim. All the windows had shades drawn over them.

Hakuro followed Reese up the stairs to a small porch. Reese pushed a button by the door and spoke into a speaker. “Chang! Are you there, Chang?”

“Yes?” the speaker crackled. “I’ll be there in a second.”

The door clicked open to a tall, square man. He stood erect, with the stance of a soldier. He had broad shoulders and sharp facial features. He wore a military uniform and his gray hair was cut military style.

“Come in, Rosenov,” Lieutenant Chang said. “Who’s your comrade?”

“This is Hakuro Sanubi,” Reese answered.

“Welcome to my fortress, Sanubi,” the lieutenant said, shaking Hakuro’s hand with a strong grip. He was quite robust for someone so old. “Follow me.”

The outside deceived the viewer. Spotless white walls greeted them as the crossed the threshold. The smallest child and the bravest warrior wouldn’t dare bring a speck of dust about the place. Each picture hung perfectly square and uniform. The polished hard wood floors glowed like glass. Old swords and guns hung in the house as well, kept behind glass counters in the hall and living room. Chang lead the duo into a small sitting area, consisting of a love seat and two chairs.

“Please, sit.” Chang said, then sat himself down in a chair. Hakuro and Reese both sat on the couch.

“So, what have you come to see me about?”

“I need a pilot,” Hakuro said.

“I’m retired. Go to the airport,” the old man said. “Those robots are programmed to go almost anywhere.”

“They won’t take me where I want to go.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t fly anymore.”

“Chang please!” Reese said. “This is really important.”

“We need to go to the jungles south of here to get the snake’s sword.” Hakuro said.
Chang froze, then touched his chin thoughtfully. “The snake’s sword? You couldn’t have found a better source. When I was in the military, the general of the Japanese military sent a large battalion into the jungle to get that sword. Most of the battalion died, but their were many survivors. They said the snakes attacked them. Given their state of anemia and exhaustion, they were said to be somewhat mad. We never saw that battalion again, but we did get their transmissions. You know what we hear? Reports of some kind of an attack… Anyway, the attack was probable caused by wild animals or pygmies. Jungles are known to house many unusual dangers. I suggest you take safety precautions.”

“A wise suggestion,” Hakuro said. “So… does this mean you will fly us there?”
Chang thought. “How much money do you have?”