I am now in the last stages of rewriting and proofreading all the material I have, and I believe that I will finally (!) be able to complete this thing by January. So, here's a little preview for you. If you like it, be sure to share this post with your friends, because I could always more fans. :)
TETSUYA
Hiroshima,
1994
It was a cool October night in Hiroshima.
The leaves had begun to turn, the days had become shorter. It was cold outside.
Inside the massive Hondori mall, a young woman named Keiko has just finished
her shift in a small but upscale shoe store. Hondori was Hiroshima’s
signature shopping mall; a unique construct in what was in many ways a typical
Japanese city. Hondori did not consist of a single, large building; it was an
entire city street that had been covered with a richly illuminated and
beautifully decorated roof. It was always filled with shoppers on foot or on
bicycles, and many tourists browsed through the varied shops. The small shop in
which Keiko sold fashionable footwear to the wives of office workers who wasted
away the hours in the nearby office towers was located toward the east of the
long shopping street. She herself was now headed west, to the Hondori station
of the Astram train line. The train would bring her to Ozuka, to the west of Hiroshima.
Downtown Hiroshima itself was
located on an island in the Ota River,
but Ozuka was on the mainland. Ozuka station was only 8 kilometers from
downtown, but the Astram line’s commuter trains circled the city: first the
line went north, and then in one giant half-circle it came down again on the
western mainland. Keiko walked briskly toward the train station, she longed for
a warm meal, a warm shower and an even warmer bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, and
she could sleep in. She smiled. In her hurry, she did not notice the tall, thin
figure that was silently following her. This was not the first night on which
she’d had a stalker; the creature had been watching her for some time. It had
noticed her slender frame, her small yet perfectly shaped breasts, her elegant
face, her graceful demeanor. It had noticed all these things from the safe
anonymity that the crowds in Hondori afforded it, and it had grown hungrier
each day.
It followed her to a small noodle shop. It waited patiently
near a bike rack until a small bespectacled man handed her a bag containing
soup. She continued on her way, hoping to catch the 9:21 PM train. The station had only opened a few months
before, and she was glad that she no longer had to take a bus to get back to
her apartment. The train saved her a lot of time, and it was usually on time.
The creature followed her onto the platform, blending in perfectly with the
myriad other travelers. Once a long time ago, it had preferred to approach its
victims directly, fearlessly. These days, the police made it ever harder for it
to satisfy its hunger, and it was forced to stalk its prey carefully. It had to
be careful not to leave fingerprints. It had to be smart. But it also had long
lost the nerve to look into its victim's eyes when the moment came; it needed
drugs to calm its nerves. If Keiko had turned her head toward the creature, she
would have seen the two enormous teeth it bared as it smiled at her. But she
was looking in the other direction, hoping for the impeccably clean gold and
black train to appear soon. The ride to Ozuka would take about half an hour,
and she'd walk a few minutes from the station to her apartment. She saw the
light of the train approaching and readied herself to fight for a seat with the
other passengers as it slowed down in front of the platform. She waited for the
hiss that signified the imminent opening of the doors, and pushed her small body
inside. She found a seat, and after scanning the other travelers she closed her
eyes, tired from a long, boring day at work. The creature, meanwhile, stepped
into the very same wagon as her, but she still didn’t notice it. It was dressed
in the smart businessman uniform that so many Japanese office workers wore: a
black suit, a white shirt, and an unremarkable blue tie. It had a clean-shaven
face, a shiny bald head, and was quite tall. It gave no indication that it was
anything other than a typical Japanese office worker, at least not to the
casual observer. Had Keiko given the creature more than a passing glance, she
would have noticed that it never blinked. She also hadn't paid any attention to
the ice chest the creature was carrying. It was filled up with ice cubes and
was quite heavy, but the creature seemed to handle it as easily as if it were
made of paper.
The train began to move, and the
creature managed to find a seat. It bore no ill will toward Keiko, but knew
that it would have to kill her. It was going to drink her blood and eat her
heart. That's just the way things were. The way things had to be. Why Keiko?
Why not someone else? Well, that was complicated. Back in the old days the
creature could have simply taken a victim in the night, and no one would have
suspected it. Life -and death- were easier back then. These days its need to be
careful had driven it to seek out people who lived alone because it was easier
to kill loners, and because no one would miss them for a while. It had to
subdue its instincts, and perform clean kills. It had to be methodical,
precise. This didn't prevent it from enjoying its victims in other ways, which
was exactly why it almost always chose young women to be its plaything, but
there was something else about Keiko, something that it couldn't quite
understand, and that unsettled it. As the train pulled out of the station, the
creature thrust its index finger into its inner jacket pocket. When it removed
the finger it was coated with a fine white powder, which the creature quickly
rubbed onto its gums. Soon the drug would be flowing through its veins, soon it
would feel lighter... it wondered what Keiko's blood would taste like and,
knowing that it still had some time before the train reached its destination it
let its head fall back against the window. Its thoughts drifted back to a time
before cocaine, before trains, before ice chests, before shopping malls,
before, before, before...
Tetsuya hated early mornings with a passion.
"Procrastinating is of no use," his wife said
without an ounce of compassion. He smiled at her as she handed him his armor. They'd
been married eight years now, and he was as much in love with her as he'd been
back then.
"I know, Emiko, I know. Asano
wants us all to be there early, so I've got no choice. I'd much rather stay
here with you... " Emiko glanced at her husband. He was handsome, his
thick black hair framing a face that at
the age of 26 had lost none of its boyish charm. She hated for him to leave her
so early as well, but he was right: he didn't have a choice. His daimyo, or
Lord, had declared war on a rival, and as his master’s soldier he had to go
into battle. ‘Why do we always have to do these things early in the morning?’
he wondered as he drank some water. He splashed the remaining water on his face
and then he opened the thin bamboo door that separated his humble dwelling from
the world outside. His look fell upon the courtyard right in front of his hut;
usually it was bristling with activity, farmers selling or trading their wares,
warriors bragging about their exploits, women gossiping… but not today, and
certainly not this early. The sun had yet to rise. Presently the courtyard was
overfilled with soldiers; samurai, who illuminated their gathering place with
torches and waited silently and patiently for the arrival of their master.
Tetsuya left his home and mingled with the other samurai, each of whom was
accompanied by his most prized possession: a magnificent sword. A few quiet
greetings here, a few nods of the head here, time to find a good place to
stand, and then daimyo Asano was there: a short, stocky man, maybe about 45
years of age. He wore a scar on his face, in witness from a past battle. His
armor was far more exquisitely detailed than Tetsuya's. His sword was the
biggest here, truly befitting his station, for a daimyo was a rich man who
owned a lot of land and employed the samurai who lived on his property, and he
never let them forget that he was their master and benefactor. The samurai, in
return, protected his lands and his people from rival daimyos. Daimyos often
fought each other for more land or political advantages. In theory they were
all citizens of the greater Japan,
under the control of His Majesty, the Emperor; but he was just a figurehead, a
boy of barely 7 years, and the real power lay with the Shogun, the Imperial War
Lord.
Asano stepped onto a small platform
in the center of the courtyard, and addressed his warriors: “Men! Samurai! Our
honor has been insulted! A daughter of our clan has been violated” – Tetsuya
knew that she had not in fact been violated, she had merely decided to see
someone from another clan, but the truth didn’t matter when a lie could be
exploited for political or financial gain- “and it is our duty to avenge this
infamy! We will begin at once! We will march toward Akinakano, encircle the
main houses, and assault the town from all sides at once!” The perhaps two
thousand men assembled in the courtyard of Hiroshima
Castle erupted into cheers and
began the trek toward the forest, from which they would stage their assault.
About an hour and a half later
Tetsuya glanced over at his friend, Shigeru. They were in position on the far
side of the village they were about to attack. Their force numbered about 800
men, and Asano had remained with the main force of about 1200 on the near side.
The daimyo would signal them when it was time to commence their assault.
“Nervous, Tetsuya?” Shigeru
inquired.
“No,” Tetsuya lied.
Shigeru smiled knowingly. Soon
their lives would be on the line, and no matter how well prepared they were, no
one could ever foretell the outcome of a battle. They had an advantage now, in
the darkness, but once that was gone the enemy would fight back.
The signal came, a burning arrow
splitting the night with its fiery glow. Tetsuya, Shigeru, and the rest of
their force lunged forward, swords drawn. They were a fearsome sight, with
their facemasks sculpted to resemble wild beasts and demons. Their tough
leather armor protected them from the simple weapons of the villagers, but Tetsuya
felt uneasy as he ran toward the first row of houses. Too often he had lost
friends in battle; too many times the blood of boys who were barely old enough
to kiss a girl had been spilt. ‘Why do we keep doing this’, he asked himself
under his helmet as he ran. ‘Why can’t we all just live in peace, there’s
enough land here for everyone.’ He knew the answer: because the daimyo had
ordered it. Of course his power was merely based on people’s beliefs that he
did in fact have power; if people stopped believing then he would stop being
their leader… but alas, the masses always swam with, and not against the
stream, and if they perceived the majority to follow the daimyo then they
would, too. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a villager who had appeared
out of nowhere; he had undoubtedly been awakened by the commotion of hundreds
of armored men running through the narrow streets. The man was dressed in the
simple garb of a farmer, and was wielding a pitchfork. He screamed at Tetsuya
and his comrades, and Tetsuya skillfully danced around him, turning his back
towards him, and plunging his sword into the man’s neck in the same movement,
neatly severing his head.
The battle had begun.
********
I'd appreciate any comments and suggestions!
********
I'd appreciate any comments and suggestions!
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