CHAPTER NINE - WELCOME TO NEO-TOKYO

“They just … shot him, Uncle Richard.” Tristan slumped down in his First Class seat.

“Don’t talk so loud, Tristan.” Uncle Richard looked down significantly at Caleb in his arms before he put the sleeping boy in the seat between them.

“I can’t believe he’s asleep again. I didn’t think he ever would after …” Tristan gently stroked the top of Caleb’s hair. “After everything.”

“He’s hiding in unconsciousness. Wish I could.” Richard reached over to fasten Caleb’s.

Tristan was having a bit of trouble himself. His hands felt numb. His mind was in an endless loop: Maeda’s blue gaze, the sound of the gunshot, the smell of cordite, and the blood everywhere. He had hardly noticed when the two remaining Yakuza had guided them from the garage, issued them plane tickets, and new IDs that would get them to Neo-Tokyo.

While Richard’s chip was cut out of his forearm, Tristan was given contacts that would obscure the color of his eyes for the time he was on the plane, but not much longer than that. For unknown reasons, the cobalt blue always came through. The last thing that Nakajima did was to take the comm Tristan had been holding onto. Just as he was handing it over to the Yakuza, he saw the flash of a red light indicating that there were new messages.

“Can I – I just see what these are?” Tristan had asked the Yakuza. He studiously ignored the bulge of the gun that had killed Naruse under Nakajima’s jacket.

Nakajima shrugged and lit a cigarette. “The tracker in it is untraceable in here. Knock yourself out.” Here was a small padded room where they were being kept before they boarded the plane. “Can’t hurt anything.”

Of course, the content of the messages could hurt. It could be about his parents. The mysterious “they” could be trying to reach him already. Or it could be something more prosaic like Jace. He brushed his fingers over the top of his bracelets and his ex-boyfriend’s hologram appeared. Fifteen messages from Jace. Each one more desperate than the last.

“Tris, I know you must think I’m a complete bastard …”

Delete.

“… pick up, Tris! Okay, I know I’m a complete bastard but ...”

Delete.

“ … meant nothing to me! Only you! I just …”

Delete.

“… you’re not one to judge! You weren’t there for me when I needed …”

Delete.

Tristan snapped off the comm and handed it to Nakajima. He didn’t need to see anything more. After everything that had happened, Jace’s pathetic, self-centered pleadings grated even more than they would have before.

“Sometimes its best to leave the past behind,” Nakajima said, letting the smoke leak through his lips in a steady stream then he snapped the comm in half.

They had been taken to the plane right after that and Tristan had gone back into numbness.

“Maeda just ordered him dead and – and it was done,” Tristan whispered. Richard sat down in the aisle seat. With Caleb sandwiched between them, Tristan felt slightly safer. “What kind of man can do that?”

“A man that we don’t want to piss off,” Richard said. He glanced down at Caleb. “The kind of man that we are very respectful of at all times.”

Tristan realized then that his uncle was just as freaked out as he was. “He bought me. He owns me. We are all under his control!”

“Yes, and, thankfully, he seems to like you very much,” Richard said. He gestured to the flight attendant. She smiled and crouched down by his chair. “A glass of scotch, please. One for me and … one for my nephew.”

The flight attendant nodded and got them both two glasses of amber liquid. Richard downed his and handed the second to Tristan. The boy took a sip and his nose scrunched up. He always hated scotch, but it felt warm going down his throat. He drank the rest and set his own empty glass on the small tray table. Richard gestured for another to be brought.

“Actually, make mine a vodka tonic with lime,” Tristan requested.

When the flight attendant brought him their drinks this time, Tristan sipped his. He already felt slightly woozy from having the scotch on an empty stomach, but he hoped that it meant he would fall asleep. He looked down at the top of his brother’s head. He stroked Caleb’s blond hair.

“Don’t think about Maeda as a man who shot someone for no reason,” Richard kept his voice very low. “Think of him as a man who will do anything to keep you safe.”

“You think he did this for me?” Tristan goggled at his uncle, horrified.

“I think he didn’t want you exposed to Karasu or any of that, but Chicago isn’t in his direct control. Where we are going in Neo-Japan is,” Richard said.

“Is Maeda the Oyabun of the Kiyuubi-kai?” Tristan hoped he was getting these terms right.

“No, no, he isn’t. Tarada Kiyuubi is. I believe that Maeda is a wakagashira of the Kiyuubi-kai,” Richard explained then seeing Tristan’s confused expression, he added, “A first lieutenant. He’s the boss’ right-hand man.”

“Oh, okay,” Tristan said. “What about Karasu? What’s he?”

“Besides crazy as a bag full of cats?” Richard took a deep swallow of his drink. “Kuroi Karasu is also a wakagashira.”

“But for the Nakamura-kai?” Tristan guessed. Richard nodded. “He didn’t seem … crazy exactly.”

“Maybe he was having a lucid moment.” Richard rattled the ice in his glass. The flight attendant filled it up again though she told him that they would be taking off soon so she wouldn’t be able to serve him further until they were in the air. “Thank you.”

“Do you know Karasu? Did you do business with him?” Tristan asked.

“No, I only am aware of him through hints and rumors,” Richard said.

“And what about Maeda?” Tristan asked.

Richard shook his head. “Never got high enough up the food chain to talk to any wakagashira before.”

“And you didn’t get up the food chain this time either,” Tristan growled, seeing the gleam in Richard’s eyes. “This isn’t some business deal. This is my life. Caleb’s life. Got it?”

Richard looked up at the sharpness in his nephew’s tone. He nodded. “I got it, Tristan.”

Tristan reached across Caleb and grabbed his uncle’s arm. “Make sure you do. Because I can only be sold once.”

Richard paled. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you and Caleb. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I don’t trust you, Richard. You’re going to have to earn everything with me again,” Tristan said.

“I’ll earn your trust, Tris. And your love,” Richard said and swallowed the rest of his drink.

The fasten seatbelt signs came on and the captain’s voice floated through the air. It was time for them to fly. Tristan had the normal pre-flight jitters that soaring through the air in a metal tube always brought, especially since they would skip along the outer atmosphere and land in Neo-Tokyo’s airport in only a few hours rather than twenty-four.

“Uncle Richard, why are we flying commercial?”

“As opposed to what?”

“I would have thought the Yakuza would have private jets or something. You know a superhighway to Neo-Tokyo for survivors,” Tristan said.

“You think that the governments of the world wouldn’t stop those jets from flying? No, this is safer. We’re in plain sight. Just like anyone else.” Richard gestured around the cabin.

Tristan looked over at his fellow passengers. They were so normal. So ordinary. Business people. Neo-Tokyo citizens. People going to visit relatives. Tourists though Neo-Tokyo had strict limits on how many visitors could come every year. That was one of the reasons that Tristan had doubted he’d ever see the fabled Japanese city.

He studied everyone’s eyes. Were any of them survivors? Did the middle-aged woman with the little girl who swung her feet back and forth blink too often from new contacts obscuring cobalt blue eyes? What about the man with the perpetual frown and the dark brown suit? Not a survivor. Not Yakuza either. Nakajima and his silent companion had vanished at the check-in. They were seemingly on their own until they got to Neo-Tokyo. Fakes among these people who going about their daily lives. Tristan felt like there was a gigantic chasm that separated him from them and that would never change.

My life will never be ordinary or normal again. He remembered Maeda’s words to him, Everything is all right, Tristan-san. You should try to sleep during the flight. When you wake, you will be in Neo-Tokyo and I will be waiting for you.

Tristan looked out the window, but he only saw the velvety blackness of night. It was two in the morning. He wondered when they would discover his parents’ bodies. Tomorrow? The day after that? The end of the week? Would their work friends come over to the house when his parents hadn’t come into the office? He shut the window shade and tucked Caleb’s tender form against his. His little brother seemed intent on hiding from everything that had happened in sleep. Tristan wished he could join him, but his mind was still running like a racehorse even with the alcohol flowing sluggishly through his veins.

Tristan leaned his head back against the headrest as the plane accelerated down the runway. He closed his eyes. His stomach plummeted into his feet as the plane left earth and went up into the sky. Somewhere before they reached cruising altitude, Tristan fell asleep.

“Tris, wake up, buddy. We’re here.” Richard lightly shook Tristan’s arm.

Tristan jerked awake, sending Caleb’s head flying from where it had been resting against his arm.

“Tris,” Caleb whined and snuggled against him again.

“Sorry, Cal. I was just … dreaming.” He’d been dreaming about Maeda’s voice. The Yakuza had been whispering in his ear that whole night, his breath a silken caress against his ear and neck. He couldn’t remember what Maeda had said, only that it had made him feel both deeply treasured and terribly afraid at the same time. Tristan scrubbed a hand over his eyes. The contacts were irritating him. Soon they wouldn’t work to hide the blue. He flipped open the shade.

“Its still night,” Tristan said. A sense of déjà vu hit him.

“Chicago is fourteen hours behind Japan and we’ve been traveling for some time. It’s the middle of the night in Japan the next day,” Richard explained.

“The next day?” Tristan repeated. We missed Caleb’s birthday.

“Are we – are we in Neo-Tokyo?” Caleb’s voice was solemn. His eyes were huge in his head.

“It’s right down there. The captain just announced that we’re descending and should be on the ground in about five minutes,” Richard said. He rubbed at the five o’clock shadow that darkened his cheeks. He didn’t look like he had gotten any sleep at all, but there was an excitement in his expression as he peered past Caleb and Tristan out the window.

“You’ve always wanted to go to Neo-Tokyo,” Tristan said.

“Neo-Tokyo is a wonderland for business. No pesky regulators … or police getting in the way,” Richard said.

“Right, sounds awesome.” Tristan shook his head. But he looked outside and felt a touch of awe at the twinkling city. Though it was the middle of the night everything was lit up and there was sense of energy emanating from the city as if it were the middle of the day. “It’s huge!”

“Notice that there are modern buildings mixed with ancient Japanese elements.” Richard pointed to two twin towers with what looked like an elaborate pagoda stretching between them. “That’s woodwork, if you can believe it. See the slender bridges there with the flags hanging down. Those are actually prayers. It’s the perfect melding of old and new.”

“It is beautiful,” Tristan admitted. “How many people live here.”

“Over ten million,” Richard said. “The island is almost circular in shape. Each Yakuza clan rules an equal slice of it though the Kiyuubi-kai and the Nakamura-kai have always been the strongest of the clans.”

The plane banked and they were flying past the city to a smaller island about five miles away.

“Where are we going?” Tristan asked.

“The airport is separated from the main city. It was using up too much space that they wanted for living quarters so it was moved to the nearby island there,” Richard explained.

“How do people get between Neo-Tokyo and the airport. I don’t see a bridge.” Caleb pushed his nose against the glass.

“They use ferries,” Richard explained. “The weather here is not conducive to suspension bridges.”

“Are we really going to stay here, Uncle Richard?” Caleb asked.

Richard put one hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “We really are. It’s going to be great. Most of the games you love are made here. You’ll get to play them before anyone else in the world does.”

“Are we going to – to live with that man?” Caleb’s voice went low.

“What man?” Richard asked.

“The one that shot the other guy?” Caleb’s hands balled into small fists.

“No, no, Cal. He stayed back in Chicago, remember?” Tristan assured him. He wasn’t certain that Caleb understood that it was Maeda who had authorized the killing.

Caleb’s shoulders relaxed. “O—okay. That’s g—good.”

Tristan didn’t like the tremor in Caleb’s voice. He hoped it would go away and that somehow the horrors that had happened today would fade from Caleb’s memory. “It’ll be okay, Cal. I promise.”

Caleb clung to him and Tristan petted his brother’s hair. The familiar sensation of falling came as the plane descended. There was the screech of tires as they touched down. They taxied only a short distance before the fasten seatbelt sign went off.

“Will someone be here to greet us and take us to where we’re supposed to go?” Tristan asked as he stood up.

“Yes, though I’m not sure who. They only said it would be a representative of the Kiyuubi-kai,” Richard said.

“How will we recognize them?” Tristan asked.

“Maybe they’ll have a placard with our names on it. I don’t know, Tris. Let’s just go with the flow here,” Richard said with a touch of testiness. He sighed and wiped a hand over his face when both of his nephews stared at him. “Sorry, boys. I didn’t sleep at all and I’m a little … irritable this morning.”

“No problem,” Tristan muttered. He helped get the duffels that held all of his and Caleb’s belongings.

“It’s my birthday today,” Caleb said quietly.

Tristan pressed his lips together as a wave of sadness washed over him. “It’s … your birthday was actually yesterday. Neo-Tokyo is a day ahead of Chicago. But happy birthday, buddy.” He winced suddenly. “Shit! I can’t believe I … dammit.”

“What?” Caleb looked up at him.

“I forgot your present,” Tristan confessed. “Back home.”

Caleb shrugged. His expression was dull and sad. “That’s okay, Tris. I don’t really think I want presents or … or anything this year.”

“I’m going to get you something, Cal. Mom and Dad … they would want to make sure that you had a good birthday.” Tristan cleared his throat.

“I guess if you want, Tris.” Caleb got up to his feet shakily.

Tristan patted his brother’s shoulder. There’s got to be someway I can get him a present or cake or something. We don’t have any money, but maybe … shit, I’ll find a way no matter what. I so want to see Cal smile.

Tristan carried both his and his brother’s out of the plane and down the gangway into the airport. They stepped into Neo-Tokyo’s airport behind Uncle Richard who suddenly stopped. Tristan nearly ran into his uncle’s back. He let out a whoosh of air and steadied himself. The line of passengers at his back muttered with annoyance that they were blocking the exit.

“Uncle Richard, what’s the problem?” Tristan pushed his uncle gently forward out of the direct path of traffic. Then he stepped around the other man to see what had stopped him so abruptly. Tristan froze.

“I believe that your uncle is surprised to see me here rather than a kyodai or shatei,” Maeda said to Tristan.

The holograph of the Yakuza had not done him justice. Maeda was wearing a different pristine gray suit with spotless white shirt that accentuated his lean, but muscular form. The familiar bulge underneath his left arm spoke of a gun. He wore a heavy silver watch on his right wrist that accentuated his long, elegant fingers. He stepped forward and Tristan could smell his cologne, something spicy and exotic.

“Kyodai? Shatei?” Tristan repeated the unfamiliar terms that sounded so liquid and appealing from Maeda’s mouth.

“Big and little brothers of the Kiyuubi-kai,” Maeda explained.

“Oh,” Tristan winced at how breathless he sounded, but Maeda’s slight smile told him as much as his next words that he didn’t mind the questions.

“You will learn our ways. They will become yours in time,” Maeda said.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Maeda-sama, and your – ah, associates,” Richard said, smiling rigidly at the two people who flanked the Yakuza that Tristan hadn’t noticed, because his focus was on the Maeda.

One was a woman dressed in an elaborate orangish red kimono with a gold-green belt. Her hair was piled atop her head and drawn through with two metal sticks. One lock artfully hung down in front of one of her eyes. But the eye that was free was a brilliant cobalt blue. She looked like some kind of delicate flower, but there was something in her bearing that told him she was anything but. The other companion was a man built like a bull with a thin scar through his left eyebrow. He also had cobalt eyes and was wearing a suit like Maeda's. It stretched over his broad chest.

They’re all survivors. Guess I’m not so special after all. Tristan cut off the inappropriate laughter that wanted to bubble out.

“Tris.” Caleb clung to his side.

The bull-like man’s gaze went directly to Caleb and he stilled. There was the slightest widening of his eyes as he realized that there was a child present. The woman caught his expression. Her gaze darted over to Caleb and back to the man. Her hands curled into his fists at her sides and her mouth tightened, but just as quickly her expression smoothed out when she realized that Tristan was watching her. Tristan tucked Caleb against him protectively.

Why is that guy so upset about seeing Caleb? Almost like Cal reminds him of someone.

“There is no reason to be concerned. This is Sato Akane and Watanabe Masa,” Maeda said, seeing Caleb’s fear. “Or as you Americans would say Akane Sato and Masa Watanabe. They are my most trusted … associates.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Tristan said. Caleb buried his head against his leg. “Sorry, my brother’s … really tired.”

Maeda nodded. “I’m sure that you both are. Unfortunately, there are certain … immigration procedures that must be accomplished this evening before you are granted asylum in Neo-Tokyo.”

Tristan frowned. He looked over at Richard quickly. Did his uncle know anything about these immigration procedures? The last thing we all need tonight is more surprises. But his uncle looked as perplexed as he did.

“What immigration procedures?” Tristan asked. Richard gestured for him to be quiet.

“Nothing too onerous. Just a health exam and … and some identification.” Maeda didn’t blink as he explained. “It is required and it will be for your benefit.”

“Okay.” Tristan bit his lower lip. Maeda was not a person that inspired him to question further at that moment.

“Please, come with us.” Maeda gestured for Tristan to walk beside him. Richard picked up Caleb and held him while giving his nephew an affirmative look.

Right. He wants me to keep Maeda happy. Jesus, what does that even mean?

Richard and Caleb followed after Tristan and Maeda. While Masa and Akane brought up the rear.

Maeda said, “Those men will take your bags.”

Two men in shiny suits with pointed shoes, who looked like the Yakuza they had met in Chicago, seemed to materialize at Maeda’s statement. They took the bags from Tristan and Uncle Richard. There wasn’t anything of importance in those bags, but they were the only things left of their old life, which made Tristan reluctant to hand them over, but he knew he couldn’t offer a reasonable explanation for why not. So he slowly let them go and the sharp men hustled away ahead of them.

“Do not be concerned. You will get them back and much more. We will see to all your needs.” Maeda lightly touched Tristan’s lower back, but he quickly took his hand away as if Tristan burned him.

The Neo-Tokyo airport was sleek and stark. A graceful, soaring roof over two floors of shops, gates and restaurants. People walked briskly through its metal and glass environs. Maeda looked to be taking them to a slender hallway that was blocked by armed guards. Just before they reached this hallway, Tristan glanced out a window to his left and stopped with a gasp.

“There are people out there!” He pointed out the window. Through the glass was the outside of the airport. It was filled with people and what looked like hastily assembled tents made of clothing and blankets stretched across metal poles. A little boy looked back at him. He appeared to be no older than Caleb, but his clothes looked more than just travel-worn. “Who are they? What are they doing out there?”

Maeda’s lips flattened slightly. “I am sorry you had to see them. They are those who should not be here in the first place.”

“I don’t understand,” Tristan said. “Are they visitors? Are they waiting for ferries to Neo-Tokyo?”

It was Sato who spoke up. “No, Tristan-san. They are refugees from the ghosts. They seek asylum in Neo-Tokyo, but they have not the funds nor connections to get inside.”

Tristan stared at the little boy. “What happens to them?”

“If they have the funds, they are put on the next flight out. Otherwise, there are charities that raise funds to send them home,” Sato said. “Some must stay here for quite some time.”

“That’s awful,” Tristan whispered.

“They believe that they are safer here, nearer Neo-Tokyo than in their homes,” Maeda said. “They believe that the proximity of so many survivors will protect them?”

“Are they safer here?” Tristan asked.

Maeda gave him a sad smile. “No, for the source of the ghosts is only a few miles away. As Neo-Tokyo is mostly protected against them, they come here often.”

“To feed,” Sato added.

Tristan looked back out the window at the little boy who was about thirty-feet away now. He had wandered down by the water. Tristan let out a strangled cry. A ghost, its pale clothes shining against the black water, drifted in on the tide towards the unsuspecting child. Tristan was moving before he thought about it. He shouldered open a nearby emergency exit and raced out to try and save the boy.

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