The taxi dropped Sousuke off on a quiet corner of Gaien Nish-dori, between Hiroo and the Kasumi-cho crossing.
It took little work to determine that Kaname’s purse was within the nearest restaurant. Hopefully, she would still be with her purse. He had arrived here quickly, but things can happen in the space of time it takes one to bat his eyes or cough.
Cicadas.
He took a few moments to contemplate that name as he ran a quick external surveillance, taking note of nearby buildings, entrance and exit routes, stationary automobiles, and the like.
The name could simply denote the main type of food served within.
Sousuke was well aware that the Japanese have used insects as human food since ancient times. Thousands of years ago, the region had a large human population but a shortage of animal protein. Since the area had an abundance of insects that could provide protein, this food source became important to human survival. The Japanese still use insects in many recipes today.
He himself had sampled many types: Hachi-no-ko — boiled wasp larvae. Zaza- mushi — aquatic insect larvae. Inago — fried rice-field grasshopper. Semi — fried cicada . And, Sangi — fried silk moth pupae.
That type of food was acceptable. In restaurants, it was guaranteed to be clean and of high quality. The beetles, grubs, and other larvae he had been forced to eat during a number of difficult missions had never come with such guarantees.
If Kaname enjoyed that type of repast, he would take along a collecting bag next time he went on a jungle mission. He understood that teenage girls enjoy receiving surprise gifts.
The name might also denote an attraction to ancient Chinese philosophy.
The ancient Egyptians had viewed the Scarab beetle as a symbol of rebirth or immortality. The Chinese had viewed the Cicada much the same way. As the metamorphosis of the butterfly supplied to old Greek thought an emblem of the soul's ascension, so the natural history of the cicada has furnished Buddhism with similitudes and parables for the teaching of doctrine.
By their account, Man sheds his body as the sémi sheds its skin. But, each reincarnation obscures the memory of the previous one: no one can remember his former existence any more than the sémi remembers the shell from which it has emerged. This cast-off skin became a symbol of early pomp, the hollow show of human greatness.
Sousuke stood in thought. He had no desire to consider rebirth---he had been born into a harsh life, and had no desire to suffer through that type of early life again.
Immortality was a common topic in philosophy, but had little bearing on a Mithril operative’s life.
For Sousuke, returning alive from an operation was goal enough.
There was certainly no guarantee for any man, but for him and his comrades, the likelihood of continued existence was much like the balls dropped into the machines that Kaname and Kim had spent so much time playing.
If the ball dropped true---if a mission went well---he would return safe and sound. Should the day come that too many pegs get in the way? Then, his name would be written down in the book on the TDD-1 that commemorated braves soldiers lost.
Tonight could bring such an end. Any night guarding Kaname could.
He wondered how she might feel if he did pass on. Sometimes he felt that she looked at him as if he was a cicada larvae, waiting for him to burst forth as something better and more acceptable to her. Most of the time, she acted as if his presence was more annoying than the droning call of the adult stage.
No matter. The curious feeling inside him had no relevance to the night’s mission.
Before heading in, Sousuke contemplated one other possibility. The name Cicada may reflect some form of irony.
Japanese poets many years past used to complain incessantly about the noisiness of the Sémi. And yet, sémi-skins were being used in both China and Japan to make a medicine for the cure of ear-ache.
He was standing outside of a posh restaurant.... dressed in Punk attire.... contemplating philosophy. Was that ironic too?
It was time to go in.
He must be careful not to be seen by Kim or Kaname.
A quick glance through the huge glass windows might pinpoint their position.
There---a toss of blue hair. Unmistakable. Miss Chidori.
Not knowing why, Sousuke stood staring a bit longer, watching as people laughed, knocked glasses together, and spoke happily in groups. Why did part of him seem drawn to that? That was not the type of life he had led. There was little room for laughter in a career filled with so much death and destruction. Aside from his comrades, there was little sense in trying to get too close to anyone on a mission---not that he knew how, any way.
When he walked into the restaurant, he was quickly met by the Matre de. “Excuse me young man. While we do not have a dress code, I hope that your choice in attire will NOT indicate a propensity for ignoring decorum.”
“Affirmative.” Sousuke did not elaborate. The man was obviously a Specialist. Few words would be needed among such men. He began to walk further in.
“Wait! Affirmative? Affirmative WHAT? Ignoring or decorum?” The man’s eyes were intense, and his jaw was firmly set.
“Decorum is most important during a mission. Clothing is merely a shell, as on a cicada.” A specialist would appreciate the reference to his profession.
“Yes. I might have preferred a different shell, but let me welcome you just the same. I presume you ARE here to dine, not drink. We DO have over one hundred types of wine by bottle, and fourty or so by glass or carafe. This is NOT a bar, however.” The man folded both arms over his chest.
“I am not here to eat.” Sousuke’s natural reaction---to tell the truth--- was likely to prove problematic. He realized that as soon as the last words left his mouth, seeing the waiting man’s eyebrow shot skyward.
Kaname often complained that he reacted when he should think.
Perhaps she was correct.
“THAT’S just what I was afraid of. Seeing that you have no other purpose to be here, I must ask you to leave---immediately.”
Sousuke’s eyes sought any possible avenue. He could claim to be friends of Kaname and Kim---but, that would blow the surveillance.... require explanation of his type of dress..... and quite possibly ruin the social nature of the two girls’ nocturnal journeying.
Salvation came in the form of a sign.
Sousuke pointed his finger, forced to take on an undercover identity that might be well beyond his considerable skills.
The sign read: ‘HELP WANTED. WAITERS INQUIRE WITHIN.’
The Matre De’s eyes widened. His jaw fell. Then he had a look of relief, followed by a calculating smile.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? I would never had guessed from your... ehem... interesting choice of clothes. But, that can be corrected if you are accepted full time. Let me go get Mr. Chiddo. We are short- handed tonight. This would be a wonderful time to give you a trial run!”
The man scampered off. Not long after that, a pleasant man dressed in Chef’s whites and a pair of shorts walked up, cleaning his hand on a towel.
Sousuke began to sweat.
“Hello! I’m David Chiddo, executive chef and general manager. I understand that you are looking for a waiter’s position.”
“Affirmative. I am only asking for an opportunity to spend time in this fine establishment.” Sousuke swallowed. The last statement was true. “My name is Sousuke. Sousuke Sagara.”
“Well Sousuke, tell me a little about yourself. Have you had much experience as a waiter? You do look somewhat young.” Mr. Chiddo had an affable smile. It helped Sousuke relax somewhat.
“Sir. I have been in many restaurants.” That much was true again. “I am considered to be a Specialist.” Factual once more. “I began my training at a very young age, receiving tutelage from seasoned men good at their profession.”
“Really? That’s impressive. Can you tell me a number of places that you have worked?” Mr. Chiddo’s eyes showed that he was friendly, but all business.
“Affirmative. I have been in many nations. There have been many assignments.” Sousuke listed the names of restaurants he had been in during various international missions.
“Very very good! I know some of those.” The older man patted Sousuke on the back. “I suppose there is only one way to find out if you’re up for the job. Because we are short-handed tonight, I will take a risk and forgo asking for references. Check back in with Mr. Suzuki, the Matre de. He’ll get you started.”
Sousuke breathed a sigh of relief. He need only bluff his way through things until Kaname and Kim were ready to leave. How hard could it be?”
“Sagara! I understand your name is Sagara.” The Matre de had returned. His face held the look that Sousuke had seen on innumerable drill sergeants and commanding officers.
“Sir, yes Sir!” Sousuke snapped to attention.
“Good. That’s a good start. Come with me. Those clothes will have to do until we can get you properly fitted. Perhaps the customers will appreciate the departure from the mundane.” The man did not sound convinced.
Sousuke followed the older gentleman into a small room, where he was shown a menu, wine list, and other necessary items. The table lay out was explained, and he was introduced to other staff members. The general house policy was described with admirable detail and efficiency.
Sousuke nodded his head. He had obviously been assigned to a good command.
“Listen up! These are the foods that you will recommend tonight. Moorish Grilled Pork Brochettes...”
Sousuke rose his hand.
“Yes?” The Matre de scowled. He didn’t like to be interrupted.
“I wish to be successful at my mission. May I request the use of paper and a writing implement?” Sousuke knew he would never remember the names of foods---he had never been one to pay much attention to such things.
“If need be. In the future, I expect you to remember things, once you are more familiar. Still, your dedication does you credit.”
He coughed.
“Ahem. Where was I. Yes. The Brochettes. Roasted Calimari Stuffed with Prosciutto. Spicy Morrocan Crab Cakes. Pan-fried Scallops with Tomato and Anchovy. Roast Pork Loin with Pear and Balsmic Vinegar. Chicken Tagine with Preserved Lemons and Olives.”
Sousuke was glad he was allowed to write this down.
“Next, some of the appetizers....”
Sousuke began to sweat again. There was MORE to know?
“...Fava beans with Artichoke and Tomato. Potato Gnocchi with Pesto and Green Beans. Asparagus with Sun-Dried Tomato and Hazelnut Salsa....”
The list eventually ended.
Sousuke fought the urge to mop his brow.
The ordeal was not over yet.
“Sherry is the world's most neglected wine treasure." The Matre de spoke as if he expected Sousuke to know at least that much. “Our clientele will expect you to be knowledgeable in that subject. We have a sizeable collection of sherries.”
Sousuke couldn’t help but see the parallel. Mr. Suzuki---in the way that he stood and spoke---invoked images of Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin.
“Sherry is produced in the Jerez region of southwestern Spain. Located just a short distance from the coast of North Africa, this is one of the hottest fine-wine producing regions in the world, and it also features one of the world's most distinctive systems of barrel aging.
“In traditional wine cellars, or bodegas, the barrels are placed in tall stacks. When wine is needed for each year's bottling, a small amount is drawn from each barrel in the bottom layer of barrels. These barrels are topped up with wine from the second layer, which are in turn refreshed from the third layer, etc., etc., Finally, new wine from the current harvest is used to replenish the very top layer of barrels.”
Scratching his head, Sousuke wrote down ‘bottom of the barrel.’
“Technically, this is referred to as a fractional blending system, and mathematical treatises have even been written on the number of years required for the wine to reach a steady state equilibrium. More romantically, this aging method is known as the solera system, from the Spanish word for floor, since the final, oldest wine comes from the barrels closest to the earth.”
‘Solera. Spanish word for floor.’
The Matre de stopped and glared at Sousuke. “Are you following me so far?”
“Affirmative. Sherry. Spain. Barrels. Spanish word for floor.” Sousuke fought the urge to salute.
“Um Hum. Let’s keep that dry sense of human in line, mister!” The man was under the impression that Sousuke was being flippant.
“Sir, yes Sir!!!” Sousuke DID salute.
The man walked close to Sousuke, looked to see if anyone else was listening, then actually growled. “I don’t care how experienced you are at your work. It would be wise if you do NOT mess with me. Understood?”
“Affirmative.”
“Ahem. The driest and most elegant style of sherry is known as Fino. Wineries typically reserve their best grapes for making Fino and then--- just as in Champagne---use only the free-run or first-press juice to make this style of wine.
“The real key to Fino's character, however, lies in a rather strange, film- forming yeast named ‘flor’ that thrives in the barrels used in the solera aging system. After primary fermentation is finished, the flor begins to grow a white, breadlike crust on top of the wine---the barrels are filled only five-sixths full to facilitate this.”
Sousuke wrote down ’flor,’ and ’crust.’
“Bits of this yeast coating periodically die and fall to the bottom of the barrel. While this may sound somewhat unappetizing, it is this long-term exposure to dead yeast cells that gives Fino -- and vintage champagne for that matter -- its distinct character.”
He scribbled down ’dead yeast’ and ’unappetizing.’
“When Fino is made in the cooler coastal village of Sanlucar, the flor is particularly prolific, resulting in an extra-dry subtype of Fino known as Manzanilla. Of the three Manzanillas on Cicada's list, I personally like the La Gitana, but love the Antonio Barbadillo. It is the richest and most complex of the three, but also bright and zesty -- certainly evocative of the salty seaside.”
‘Evocative of the salty sea.’
“There are currently five Finos listed---all of which are clear, perfectly dry palate refreshers. The Tio Pepe is the cleanest. The Alexander Gordon is zesty but had an intriguing, velvety texture. It is the Emilio Lustau Solera Reserva that has stolen my heart, however, with a seductively complex nose and an aftertaste of sun-dried almonds that lasts for more than a minute.”
‘Seductive nose.’ ‘Velvety texture.’
After the Fino, Mr. Suzuki droned on about a heavier style of sherry, the Amontillado. He finished by discussing a third style, the Oloroso.
The droning spurred another thought. Maybe the restaurant was named after Mr. Suzuki. He would ask him when the opportunity presented itself.
“And Sousuke, keep this vintage in mind: Antonio Barbadillo Dry Oloroso, a copper-brown, sweet, big bruiser of a wine that is so rich it is almost Sauternelike. For dessert-wine lovers, this sweet kiss is paradise in a glass!!!” The Matre de threw back his shoulder, more impressed with himself than if he had just painted the ceiling on the Sistine Chapel.
“Sir, I thank you for a most excellent briefing.” Sousuke knew that his being able to stay there depended on this man as much as Mr. Chiddo. Maybe even more. “If my mission is successful, it will be because of you. The preparation for any action is often more critical than the action itself.”
“Exactly! Perhaps I have misjudged you again. Few people---young or old--- grasp that simple but crucial fact. I must say, I am REALLY looking forward to see you work.” Mr. Suzuki scanned the establishment, then assigned Sousuke a group of tables. He would be responsible for roughly one quarter of the establishment’s seats.
Fortunately, the grouping would give him some view of Kaname and Kim’s table, without bringing him close enough for them to identify him.
Sousuke was determined.
He had anointed his brief stay here with the title of ‘mission.’
There was no recourse other than to give it his all.
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
Kaname was in Heaven.
The wine was exquisite.
The tapas was to die for.
She could barely contain herself, thinking how wonderful the main course would be.
She was growing concerned about Kim, and thought about checking up on her. No, if something was bothering her enough to cause her to spend a fair amount of time in a restaurant wash facility, it was doubtlessly something she felt too embarrassed discussing with someone else at the moment.
Maybe later..
Kaname hoped that she hadn’t pushed too far and too fast. She knew what it was like to feel lonely and excluded. That kind of feeling couldn’t be erased overnight. Still, she was hopeful. Maybe she had made some good inroads.
Could it be that Kim somehow feels like she’ll be forcefully indebted to her? Kaname hoped not. The CDs were merely the product of enthusiasm and a great love of music. Dinner was on her because she had been so fortunate at Pachinko---it was all like found money.
Falling deeper in thought, she found herself thinking about Sousuke, wondering if he might like the food in this restaurant. He had been many places in the world, and must have had the opportunity to try so many wonderful things. Then again, he WAS Sousuke---even given that marvelous chance, he didn’t care much about food.
Maybe she could change that. Perhaps...
“That’s enough, Kaname” she spoke out loud to herself. Why was she thinking about a no good, nothing but trouble, clueless, military otaku freakazoid? It was enough to ruin her appetite, right?
Well, not with this food....
But, she was glad that Sousuke was not here. This was the last place on earth that she would want him to be. What good could possibly come of it?
“Great, now you have yourself hearing things, girl.” Kaname said when she thought she had heard someone mention Sousuke’s name. She even imagined that she had caught sound of his voice. Damn. She had to find some cure for Sousuke-On-The-Brain!
Maybe some more wine.
Or tapas.
----------------------------------------
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The first part of the mission would be simple.
Collecting orders.
What could be easier than that?
Once he had sufficient orders, he would in turn command the cooking personnel to create those same meals. If they were good soldiers, they would comply immediately.
When the food was properly prepared, he would carry it out to the people waiting to consume it.
Quite simple.
And nothing he hadn’t done before.
Recon and intelligence gathering.
Reporting of discoveries and assigning of mission objectives.
Delivery of needed supplies to front line troops.
The similarities made Sousuke feel much less tense. They allowed him to slip into his usual state of mind, with his standard set of priorities and concerns.
It was time for the first table.
“Greetings. I hope that you are not terrorists or members of any type of subversive agency. I am Sergeant Sousuke Sagara. No. Forget the Sergeant part. That was my mistake. I will be your server tonight. At least until Miss Chidori and Miss Jun finish their meals and depart. Until then, you preferences are not a problem!”
Souske stood tall. He thought that went very well.
The two men and three women at the table stared at Sousuke, shocked looks on their faces. It wasn’t because of his outlandish get-up. That didn’t help, however.
“How may I serve you?” Sousuke offered, seeing that his customers looked confused and overwhelmed. “I realize that the menu is formidable. It might prove a difficult challenge to those with diminished intellect. I will gladly offer assistance if that is indeed the case.”
Kaname would be proud. He was stepping outside of himself. He was being cooperative and considerate.
“Hmmppff!” One of the men snapped out of his trance. “I am a rather seasoned restaurantier. I merely need to hear your recommendations. The others are similarly experienced. If you please.”
“Affirmative. For you, sir..... given your over-sized physique.... I would suggest you order the Chicken Tagine with Preserved Lemons and Olives. Lemons are a good source of vitamin C, and that may serve to correct your skin problem. I will write that down for you.”
As the man choked in disbelief, Sousuke stepped over to the woman in the adjacent seat.
“Madame, your skin is much more appealing. You will have no need for Lemons.” That had the woman smiling and blushing. “However, as that hat you wear is reminiscent of a creature out of 1950s Hollywood, I will assign you the Roasted Calimari Stuffed with Prosciuoto. As an earthy comrade of mine once implied, Calimari may serve as an aphrodisiac. That may afford you the opportunity to attract a mate despite your unfortunate dentition.”
Sousuke wrote down the order for the woman, then stepped over to the next man who had a somewhat belligerrent look on his face.
“Sir, the look on your face suggest that you suffer from dyspepsia. For that reason, I suggest that you refrain from selecting the Fava Beans with Artichoke and Tomato. I do not believe that the other diners would appreciate the sonorous expulsion of bodily gases. The porcine look in your eyes would also keep me from recommending the Roast Pork Loin with Pear and Balsamic Vinegar, or the Moorish Grilled Pork Brochettes. It will by necessity be the Pan-Fried Scallops with Tomato and Anchovy.”
Angry, the man picked up his knife and began shaking it in Sousuke’s direction. “You... you... you...”
It happened so quickly, that no one knew exactly what had transpired.
The man’s knife went flying across the room, landing in a carafe of sherry.
That same diner’s chair felt backward, tripping a waiter and sending a full tray of food raining over a group of immaculately dressed business officials at a nearby table.
The man himself stood quivering, staring at the large combat knife that vibrated briefly, stuck deep in the wood near where his hand had been. The knife disappeared so quickly, that the four speechless customers couldn’t swear that it had not been a mirage.
“The use of table implements as weapons is strictly prohibited,” Sousuke said with a rather stern face.
“Sousuke! What’s going on over there? Were YOU responsible?” Mr. Suzuki came running.
“Sir, it was not my tray which spilled.” Sousuke followed Mr. Suzuki’s gaze, seeing him scowl when he looked at the waiter dabbing food off of one man’s tie.
“Yes, yes. I can see that now. But where are your customers going? Did you do something to offend them?” The Matre de’s face could have peeled paint.
“Negative. I surmise that they left because of embarrassment. The one man’s chair was what tripped the other waiter. Perhaps they may have even felt that they might have to offer recompense for the wasted meals.”
“I see. You may well be right. Get back to work. Make certain that nothing like that happens to YOU!!!”
***
On his way to the next table, Sousuke saw one man painfully grasp the wrist of his much younger date. The look on her face was an indication that she was in great pain. As he walked by the man, his arm flashed out in a quick and precise motion.
The chop on the back of the man’s neck knocked his face down into his dessert. He remained that way, unconscious.
The girl smiled at Sousuke and mouthed ‘Thank you.’
“My pleasure, Madame. I endeavor to offer the best service I can.”
The next table contained a mix of men and women. They wore fancy clothes and had magazine articles open, the names of various vintages of Sherry circled in red.
“Young man, may we order our drinks first, and then take time to peruse your wondrous menu?” The youngest gentleman grinned, showing his perfect pearly white teeth. “Our time at the yacht club had left us all parched and aquiver with anticipation.”
“It is not a problem.”
“Excellent! Smashing! You are a delightful young fellow, despite your appearance. Tell me, what is your experience with Sherry?”
“Sir, I have been fully trained in the nature of Sherry, the world’s most neglected wine treasure.” Sousuke opened his order book to the page with his notes. “As you know, the finer vintages come from the Jerez region of Spain.”
“Very good. It seems we are in good hands then. Tell me, what is your personal opinion on the Sherry this fine parlor offers?” Another man with a flashy ascot spoke up.
“Bottom of the barrel, Sir!” Sousuke asserted, looking down at what he had written.
“Really?” One woman looked down at the article she was reading. “I thought Cicadas was known for its fine selection.
“I am also repeating what Mr. Suzuki, our Matre de has told me. He gave much emphasis to the word ‘solera.’ That is the Spanish word for floor.
“Egads! We should all cancel our subscription to this dreadful periodical,” a third man suggested. “It claims that your selection of different Finos is second to none.”
“I have been told that they have a rather dramatic crust. The dead yeast has much to do with the character, I am informed. I can also recall Mr. Suzuki using the word unappetizing, saying that one type was evocative of the salty sea.” Sousuke double-checked his notes. That wasn’t exactly how he remembered things, but his memories were quite the blur. He would trust in his notes.
“Was there ANYTHING he mentioned that was positive?” An attractive young lady asked.
“Affirmative,” Sousuke said, bowing to her. “I think he might speak of a seductive nose and a velvety texture.”
The woman blushed, then licked her lips. She smiled up at Sousuke. “I see. I will be certain to remember that.”
“Furthermore,” Sousuke continued. “Antonio Barbadillo Dry Oloroso---a copper brown, sweet, big bruiser of a wine that is so rich it is almost Sauternelike--- is for dessert lovers, its sweet kiss like paradise in a glass.”
The women all sighed at the mention of ‘sweet,’ ‘lovers,’ ‘kiss,’ and ‘paradise.’
“I’ll take TWO glasses of that one,” the one woman said, winking.
“Me too,” added the other young lady.
“That sounds much better, thank you,” the one gentleman said, offering his hand for Sousuke to shake.
As Sousuke stepped away to deliver the drink order, Mr. Suzuki stepped over to the table. “Well, how are we all doing tonight. I hope our restaurant is to your liking.”
“I must say that it started off as a terrible disappointment,” the man with the ascot answered. “I was tempted to leave. The sherry selection sounded rather dreary.”
“Yes, but that waiter is wonderful. He had a wonderful recommendation. That’s why we’re still here.” The woman was still fanning herself with her menu.
The Matre de looked over at Sousuke’s retreating form, impressed. He thought that by now he should know better than to judge a book by its cover.
***
After he handed over the order slip, Sousuke noted an artist working on a large ice sculpture, intended as the centerpiece for a banquet later that night. I appeared as if it was supposed to be a representation of the Suwa Taisha Shrine. If so, it was terribly flawed.
“Sir, may I ask a question. Is that supposed to be the Suwa Taisha Shrine?”
“Yes. I’m amazed that someone outside of tonight’s dinner party would have recognized it. It has taken me all day to get this far. Magnificent, isn’t it?” The artist, a small man with an overly large head, put down his ice scraper for a moment, flexing his wrists.
“Sir, the shrine dates to the Heian Period, about 1,200 years ago. It was dedicated to Takeminakatomi no Mikoto and Yasakatome no Mikoto---those deities are deeply respected by samurai families as the Gods of War. A pair of lions---only the lioness exists now---and a hyakudo stone should be depicted out front. I see no such objects on your work.”
“Really?” The man sounded as if he were greatly irritated by that observation.
“Yes. There also are a cannon and cannonballs once supplied to a battleship of the government forces in the Boshin War, 1868-1869. A stone inscription says, ‘This cannon was used by the government army to attack Goryokaku in May 1869.’ I do not see those either.”
“And you somehow think that matters, given the utter transcendent beauty of my work?” The man was incredulous.
“Affirmative. If the diners who will take note of it are well versed in such matters. It is an admirable work, just the same. Not all men have the ability to overcome the temptation of inaccuracy for the sake of expediency. It is a shame. A few hits with the mallet and chisel there....” Sousuke pointed to the base of the sculpture. “....would result in the appropriate representation.”
At that, Sousuke walked away.
“Well, it wouldn’t take too much work to....” The man’s voice faded as he worked on the suggested alterations.
There was a loud crashing sound, followed by the noise of countless small bouncing objects.
Then there was a scream,
“NO!!!!”
It was heart-wrenching. Everyone in the restaurant stopped talking and looked in the general direction.
“NO!!! GODS, NO. MY WORK!!! ALL MY WORK....”
There was the sound of sobbing.
“I’ll get him. I’ll get that know-it-all bastard!!!”
Sousuke heard the tell-tale sound of running feet behind him. Turning, he saw the furious artist, his eyes insane and spittle dripping down his chin. He held a mallet in one hand and a sharp scraper in the other.
“Die! Die you destroyer!”
With an economy of motion, Sousuke rammed his flat palm into the man’s face.... disarmed him.... and tossed him through the swinging door into the kitchen. There followed a huge growing crescendo of clanging metallic noises, sounds of voluminous splashing and spilling, and shouts of anger and retribution.
“Sousuke. What happened?” Mr. Suzuki and Mr. Chiddo ran over to speak with him.
“The man obviously made a mistake on the work he was close to completing. His frustration must have driven him mad with grief. It is a tragic thing, but it no different than countless other acts printed in the media.” Sousuke sadly shook his head.
“I see. Well, Mr. Suzuki tells me you are doing a terrific job here. Good fortune must be smiling on us tonight.... despite the actions of some unfortunate men.” Mr. Chiddo mussed Sousuke’s hair, then went to check on the damage in the cooking area.
***
As time passed, Sousuke placed a number of orders, and was finally at the stage where he could bring the dishes out to the hungry patrons.
“Here you are Miss, the Brochettes and the Asparagus with Sun-Dried Tomato and Hazelnut Salsa.”
Sousuke carefully placed the food in front of the appreciative woman in the colorful jump suit..
“For you, Madame, the Spicy Morrocan Crab Cakes and the Potato Gnocchi with Pesto and Green Beans. A wonderful choice, I believe.”
The middle-aged woman---dressed in a fashionable blouse and skirt---smiled happily.
“And for the Gentleman, a large salad and accompanying selection of seasonal fruits.”
As he put the plate down, the obese but muscular man with the Fu Manchu mustache grabbed Sousuke by the wrist.
“I did not order THIS!!! Where is my Roast Pork Loans... the Roasted Calamari.... and the Pan-Fried Scallops?”
“It is not a problem. Consider it part of the excellent service of this facility. I could not help that notice your pendulous abdomen and flushed complexion. Those are signs of an impending serious medical condition. Accordingly, for your own good, I have substituted these foods for you.” Sousuke reached into his pocket. “Also, at no additional cost, I shall give you this.”
Sousuke placed a protein bar on the table top.
“This is the ultimate in high protein energy bars. Muscletech's NitroTech is specially formulated with 35g of protein, including high qualtiy whey, only 9g of carbs and packed with vitamins and minerals for increased energy! The flavor is also not unpleasant.
Ingredients are entirely appropriate, including whey peptides, whey protein concentrate, whey protein isolate,l-leucine, l-methionine, l- phenylaline, lactoferrin, milk protein, glycerine, micronized creatine monohydrate. Insulogen, nitroxen, vitamin and mineral blend, poly dextrose, and so forth.
“There are 290 calories, including 70 calories from fat. Total fat is 8 grams. Saturated fat 4.5 grams. Cholesterol 30 milligrams. An excellent number. Sodium 95 milligrams and Potassium 130 milligrans. Very acceptable. Total carbs 9 grams. Dietary fiber 1 gram. Sugars 3 grams. And Protein, 35 grams, as you may recall I mentioned before.
“They are easy to purchase on-line. A person only requires 1-3 bars per day. For optimal results, use them as a part of a low fat diet and exercise program.”
Sousuke was pleased. He was really taking pride in doing a good job. Customers should respond favorably to that type of generosity.
“I said it is NOT what I ordered. Take it back!!!” The furious man threw the large dishes of salad and fruits at Sousuke. He then crumpled the protein bar in his fist.
Sousuke ducked.
One plate struck a waiter carrying a precariously full tray of Sherry glasses.
The resultant downpour decorated a table full of international dignitaries.
The other plate left a large slick on the floor, bounced up on its edge, then rolled out of view.
A departing couple, not seeing the slippery area of floor, slid out of control. Striking a large aquarium holding the live trout that diners had opportunity to select for their meals, they were able to keep from falling.
The aquarium tilted on its side momentarily, just missing the opportunity to fall over entirely.
The resultant waterfall soaked a nefarious crime boss and his date through and through.
Out of sight but not out of mind described the errant rolling plate. It caused yet another waiter to trip and drop his fully laden tray. The famous members of the music community and their guests from the media who were struck by the flying food were none too pleased.
Sousuke was concerned that the violent man might cause even further damage and destruction. It was his job to keep the other patrons safe. A brutal chop to the throat, followed by a tremendous head butt, gave the irate customer something else to worry about other than his meal.
Seeing an empty tray left by another waiter, Sousuke picked it up, intending to remove it from the gasping man’s reach.
Someone grabbed Sousuke by the sleeve and began pulling him away. Sousuke stayed his leg sweep just in time. Mr. Suzuki appeared to be in a foul enough mood as it was.
“Mr. Sagara. Just what do you think you were doing?!! I saw you attack that man. How could you possibly strike a patron? I may need to call the police and legal representation!”
“Sir, he was the one who struck first, assaulting me with plates and various edible projectiles. I escaped unharmed, but you have seen the damage his act caused. I was not concerned about my own safety, however. The other patrons needed to be protected! That, and the décor of the restaurant.” Sousuke’s face was just as intense as the Matre de’s.
As the older man tried to compose himself enough to speak further, Sousuke turned to check on Kaname again, wondering if Kim would have finally returned to her seat.
Neither of them were there.
There was money on the table.
Kaname’s purse sat on the floor.
“You come back here, mister!” Mr. Suzuki shouted at Sousuke as he headed over to Kaname’s table.
“Excuse me.... can you tell me what happened here.... were the girls finished eating.... one left her purse.” The blood pounded at Sousuke’s temple. He was beginning to feel a little faint.
Had something untoward happened.
How could he have missed it!
“The young lady with the blue hair appeared to pass out. The large man who seemed to know her carried her out. The smaller girl with the dark hair left with the other man.” An elderly woman answered kindly before returning to her pudding.
Kaname and Kim.
They were gone.
With strangers.
Probably assailants.
And the purse, with its transmitter, was still here!
As Sousuke ran out of Cicadas, the man with the ascot spoke to Mr. Suzuki.
“Tut tut there, old chap. You have bigger worries than a bit of mess on the floor. Seems you just lost your best waiter!”
****************
****************
****************
Kaname snapped awake, disoriented.
Everything was dark.
The sound of huge air horns echoed eerily outside, the urgent call of boats coming into towards some destination.
She checked her watch. 3A.M.
Where was she?
Why was she here?
How had she gotten here?
Frantic, she listened closely. Was there someone else here? She didn’t hear any breathing. What had happened to Kim?
Standing up, she slowly walked with her hands out, trying to find a wall.
Finding a wall, she began smoothing her hands up and down, left and right. There had to be a door somewhere. A door, or a window she could open.
She found a door handle. She checked it. Locked!!!
Sousuke.
She thought of Sousuke.
He would save her, right? He always saved her! Not that she had been in danger too many times that wasn’t the result of some mistake of his.
But, how could he know where she was?
She had made it plain it was Kim’s and her night out. No otakus allowed. The words she had used were a good bit rougher.
Why would he want to save her after that?
Duty.
Obligation.
That was always the reason.
Would it matter? What difference would it make if he would simply show up and tell her she was safe?
It *would* matter.
After she was safe.
If she would ever be safe again.
“Keep your spirit up, Kaname! Who says that you are in any danger? This might just be some misunderstanding. It might even be some kind of safe house. Maybe Sousuke spirited you here out of harm’s way!”
Yeh, right. Her own voice did nothing to ease her fear and concern.
She sat quietly, trying to hold herself together.
Thoughts of Sousuke came more frequently.
The feelings she began to admit she felt for him.
The things that she wished he might feel for her.
The words she someday wanted to say.
------------------------------------------------
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“We’re tuned in Urzu 7. We have a communications team at the main island on it too.” The Officer of the Deck tried to reassure Sousuke while he waited for Capt. Testarossa, Cmdr. Mardukas, and Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin to arrive back onboard the TDD-1.
“Thank you, O.D. Has anyone picked up any clues yet? Have there been any names or destinations mentioned?” Sousuke knew that his only hope was the microphone in Kim’s purse.
The right name , word, or environmental noise might give him a general vicinity. Without that, his tracker did not have the power needed to home in on the miniscule signal put out by the hidden device.
“That’s a negative, Urzu 7. At least nothing specific. We do know that there is one female who is awake and alert---she obviously knows the men who abducted Miss Chidori. There has been mention of a mission, and success at that mission. From the conversation we have recorded, it would appear that she was the bait.”
“What?! Could you be mistaken?!!” Sosuske’s heart was in his throat.
Kim?
An operative?
How could he have missed that?
Instead of staying suspicious of her, he had held his hand out to the girl. It had been a mistake. Opening up was always a mistake for him!
When Kaname had needed his skill and instincts the most, he let her down.
No.
It was worse than that.
In his own way, he had helped facilitated matters. Hadn’t he?
Despite all that, he had been on their tail.
He had been in the same building---conscious, alert, and in the same room as Kaname. Despite that, she was abducted from right under his nose.
“DAMN!!!” His shout started the Mithril driver, causing the small white van to swerve on the road temporarily.
“Urzu 7, repeat. We did not copy that....”
“It was nothing, O.D. Please keep me informed. Urzu 7 out.”
“Are you alright, Sergeant Sagara?” Corporal Smithers sounded concerned. “You look and sound exhausted. Maybe you should get some sleep. I will leave the receiver on and notify you the moment anything comes in.
“I will be OK, Corporal. Your concern is appreciated. I will follow your suggestion.” Sousuke closed his eyes, listening to the low pitched whine of the van’s radial tires.
Kaname.
He had failed her.
It would be his fault if she died.
What was the feeling that grabbed at his heart?
Fear?
It was not fear or anxiety, even though he was afraid for her.
Guilt?
It was not guilt or shame, despite the fact that he was very much to blame.
Bloodlust?
It was not the anticipation of battle---there was no certainty that they would ever pick up her trace.
Duty?
It was not the trumpet call of duty. For him, that never ceased sounding.
Then what?
And why?
Why did he keep seeing Kaname’s face?
Why is that face smiling, if she is in danger?
Why is she turning, her arms in the air, hair glowing like a living nimbus?
Why are her hands reaching out towards him, fingers spread?
In his vision, she’s calling his name, her eyes looking happy.
Why?
It didn’t make any sense. How could he get any sleep this way? He felt as if he couldn’t breath.
It was there... in the back of his mind.... small, but very powerful.... the need to shout out her name.
The desire to tell her that he was coming.
The urge to kill anyone who had harmed her.
No matter who or what stood before him. Whether or not it would cost him his life.
Pain didn’t matter.
His death would not matter.
Kaname matters.
He awoke sweating. Checking his watch, he noted that he had only been asleep for one hour.
“Feeling better, Sergeant? There’s been no word yet. We’ve driven through a fair bit of Tokyo, but there have been no chirps from your locator.” Corporal Smithers was a veteran of this type of operation.
He knew all too well the statistical futility of what they were attempting.
“I believe I will be somewhat more refreshed. Thank you. Are you tired? Do you need for me to take the wheel?” Sousuke’s voice was slightly slurred. He rubbed his eyes.
“No, Sergeant. I sleep during the day. These are my best hours.”
A signal came through.
“Urzu 7, this is Da Danaan watch, do you read? Over.”
“Roger O.D., we read. Do you have any information?” Sousuke found that he was gripping his leg hard enough to cause considerable pain.
“Affirmative, Urzu 7. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Maybe just what you need. We have heard ship horns, so it is likely that the microphone is near one of the ports or wharfs. We can’t be any more specific than that yet.”
There was a pause.
“I have been informed that one of our Japanese mainland operatives informs me that horns at this hour are most often heard in the vicinity of the Tsukiji Fish market. The ships begin coming in around 3 A.M. there, in preparation for the early morning fish auctions.”
“Corporal, you heard?” Sousuke abruptly sat up straighter in his seat.
“Yes, Sergeant. Buckle up, we’re going to pick up speed a bit.” The van changed lanes with a sharp tug on the wheel. Destination, Japan’s largest fish market.
“Was there any more, O.D.? Any indication that Miss Chidori is still alive?” Sosuske found that he was holding his breath.
“No, not yet. But we do have leads that we are following. The young girl you mention, she may be the one whose voice we have picked up. Please listen, and confirm that for us.”
A short conversation was replayed for Sousuke. There was no doubt. That was Kim Jun’s voice.
“That is Kim Jun. She is the girl who had been with Kaname Chidori.”
Sousuke couldn’t let himself get too morbid over the mistake he had made with Kim.
No, if anything, she was now the focus of a burning anger within him. “Sir, has there been any mention of the Whispered? Any recorded comments that would explain why they are after Miss Chidori?”
“Affirmative, Urzu 7. We have heard that word mentioned. We have also heard the name Jorgen. Lt. Concepcion in Intel has conjectured that the man may be Jorgen Wagner, a long time mercenary of German birth. She says that the name has been associated with the disappearance of a number of Whispered, but that no proof has ever been found. Hold a moment.”
Sousuke waited, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“If it is indeed who she suspects---and if he is working for one of the groups kidnapping the Whispered---your priority will be to erase him with utmost prejudice. No level of collateral damage will be judged too great. That prerogative just came in from high level Mithril officials. I repeat, your priority will be his death, not Miss Chidori’s rescue. Do you copy?”
Sousuke did not respond.
“Urzu 7, I repeat, do you copy?” The sound of the O.D.’s voice grew more tense.
There was nothing but silence.
“Sgt. Sagara. I must commanded to answer. Do you copy the mission priorities.” That voice was unyielding.
“Affirmative.”
Sousuke’s mouth had spoken the words. His tongue had meant what it had said.
His heart had its own agenda.
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Kim was laying in a heap of oily tarps and smelly rags. She was crying inconsolably, her body moving in great heaves.
The pain in her cheek still threatened to overwhelm her, but that was nothing compared to the agony gripping her heart.
She could still hear those words.
Why?
What had she done to deserve them?
She had put her faith in someone.
The wrong someone.
***
“You stupid bitch. What took you so long? You are practically useless.”
Jorgen had looked angry.
He hit her... punched her in the stomach.... then slapped her face.
Again.
And again.
Hard.
He enjoyed it. He had waited a long time for this opportunity. It was obvious.
But, his rage subsided. What was left after that was even more disturbing.
“Wait. I should be fair. The stupid bitch part is accurate. But not the rest.”
He smiled, looking to see if his words had the desired effect.
“To truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. In similar fashion, I took great pleasure watching your suffering throughout the years. O... perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that... knowing how you felt about me.”
It was plain to see.
Jorgen had put up with her as long as he could.
Her being Whispered must have been like a thorn deep in his side.
He detested her.
He had used her.
He had lied to her.
All along.
From the beginning.
About EVERYTHING.
How could she have been so naive.... so blind?
She had given him everything she had, everything she knew how to give. She had willingly given up her childhood for him. She had allowed herself to be torn from one place and tossed into another.
Until recently, her every thought and every dream had been for him.
Until Jindai.
Until Sousuke.
Sousuke had made a difference.
More so, he had made her feel different---like she wasn’t alone. He told her it wasn’t a crime to have a troubled past---it wasn’t her fault. He didn’t just pass out an automatic condemnation---he offered hope, without even knowing that he had done so.
What had she offered in return?
She betrayed him.
Just as she had betrayed another.
Kaname.
All that Kaname had done was offer her friendship.
Friendship, and a chance to fit in.
A chance to be like other girls.
A chance to have fun, see new things, and do something different.
Something normal---something without a grand purpose, frightful rhetoric, or an outcome she was afraid to contemplate.
She had begun to bask in that new light, despite her conditioning and better judgment..
Then---when a choice had to be made---she had turned on the very people who had opened the shutters in her dark and claustrophobic life.
“My my my. So deep in thought. Perhaps I have worked you to hard. Maybe you need a vacation. No. I have a better idea. You get to retire. Won’t that be nice?”
Jorgen had kicked her then, and slammed her against the wall. His eyes looked empty, soulless. His breath stank of alcohol. His laugh sent chills into every tiny recess of her body.
Kim had no doubt what he intended for her. The only question was when it would come.... how quick it would be.... and how painful he could make it.
A knife was thrown at her feet.
“You have my permission to kill yourself, Kim.” His tone of voice had frozen her. He spoke as if he were offering someone a smoke or a bottle of ale.
“Or, I’ll allow you to slit the throat of that blue-haired witch, if you like. You’ve already killed her by reeling her in. It was a fine catch. A very nice fish. Cutting the girl’s throat would be a kindness--- it would save her from the terrible torture I have planned for her.”
His eyes had been intense, as he looked at the knife, stepping back away from it. No doubt he was hoping that Kim would make a grab for it then and there.
“Let me know when you make your decision.”
If that hadn’t been cruel enough, he did what he knew would hurt her even more.
“Kim, darling. Pretty girl. My one and only dearest love. I would like you to meet someone. Her name is Cleo.” He had turned and held out his hand into the shadows. He then led a young girl into the room.
Her eyes were vacant. She was obviously heavily drugged.
“You remember her don‘t you? You led me to her! Yesterday, when they were done with her, my business partners asked if I had any use for what was left. Can you think of one?”
Jorrgen gave Cleo a kiss. “There there. Don’t be frightened. I’ll take good care of you. I will always be here for you.”
Looking over at Kim, he smirked.
The movement of his shadow no the floor caught his eye.
“Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest of air”
Jorgen took out a cigarette and lit it.
It may be that I’m not doing God’s work after all. But, that’s OK, as long as it feels good. Don’t you agree, Kim dear?”
Kim had not been in any shape to speak.
“Hmmm. You’re no fun any more. Poor Cleo, she’s had a very tough life. But I saved her. I’m certain she will be very grateful, don’t you think? She’s Whispered too. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Kim realized that he was being sarcastic.
“Want one?” Jorgen asked, holding up his pack of smokes. “A girl should have at least one vice in life before she goes.”
He leaned Cleo against a wall.
Walking over to a window, he looked outside, catching a partially obstructed view of the water.
“Think of the sea. It has no mercy. No power but its own controls it. Panting and snorting like a mad battle steed that has lost its rider, the masterless ocean overruns the globe. And yet, as powerful as it is, I have found something stronger yet. Stronger and even further reaching. Can you guess what it is?”
Kim had been unable to answer. Her tongue clove to the top of her mouth.. She didn’t even look up.
“If you get it right, I’ll give you a kiss, too.”
Kim had looked up, her eyes eager. Startled and sickened by her own reaction, she hid her face in her hands.
Jorgen’s laugh had echoed throughout the small barracks-like shed.
“Hate. It’s hate. And I hate you. I have always hated you. I will never stop hating the very thought of you.”
Kim couldn’t help herself. She cursed her own weakness, letting him see the depths of her pain. She had started sobbing like she never intended to stop.
“But you’re not special. Don’t ever think that. I hate all of the Whispered. Perhaps you think me mad---others do; but I'm demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that's only calm to comprehend itself!"
He had then walked over and sat down near Kim. He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes.
“I will kill every last one of them.”
After that, he took Cleo and left.
***
Kim shivered uncontrollably.
She had no doubt.
Sousuke’s warnings about obsession were warranted.
Jorgen had stepped too far down that road.
He was mad.
She felt like a sailor on a whale-ravaged sailing ship.
Jorgen’s gaze had been that of a shark---longingly gazing up to the ship's decks, like a hungry dog round a table where red meat is being carved--- ready to tear apart any Whispered that fell to him.
Even if a miracle saved her, she was much like that sailor adrift at sea.
Where could she go?
There was no shore for her to swim to.
No one would mourn her loss.
She had put all of her fish in one bucket.
That bucket was gone.
[FIC] Call Me Ishmael (part six)
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