It was one of the few places in China where blue sky was allowed to peek through; as the small private seaplane careened over the bushy green bamboo mountains sunlight glittered off its wings, glowed off the sides of the giant rocks framing the small town that sat on the edge of the Li river, its waters a bright violent blue, as opposed to the green-gray of Hong Kong's waters, or the gunmetal colour of the water farther north in the province.
The plane coasted down and struck the water, shooting along the waves on its pontoons. On the shore of the town, vendors and children gathered to watch the aircraft pull in and deposit its cargo: a young Japanese man in a charcoal grey suit, pale-skinned and nervous looking. He squinted up at the sun -- was it ever this sunny in China? Hell, was it ever this sunny in Tokyo, for that matter, a gazillion miles north-east. He plucked a pair of purple sunglasses from his pocket and wore them as he made his way through the throng of men rushing him. They wanted to sell him er-hus, the Chinese violin, wanted to sell him little wooden Buddhas, reclining and sitting, wanted to sell him food, and pictures.
The air was hot and thick; it was the tropical season, the warm season, and the air smelled sweet and pungent, like the spices in storebought noodles. He climbed stone steps up beyond a small waterfall and paused by a grove of swaying palm trees. The town itself was a sight: dwarfed by the massive bamboo-laden mountains around it, it was dusty, its buildings small and blocky, the streets either too narrow for cars or too wide and open to walk easily through the crowds. And the golf carts. Apparently some commercial god with a sick sense of humour reached into this town, took away their bicycles and granted them the dubious luxury of tiny golf carts.
He did not need to hail one: he found his quarry seated at a table outside a small cafe, placed so that diners could look out to the water, and at the emerald mountains.
The man sitting at the cafe was also Japanese, his hair dyed a bright blonde. He was wearing, of all things, a bright orange suit, blinding in the summer sun. He looked up, his eyes blue -- contacts. He smiled out of the side of his mouth and said, "Sai. To what do I owe the pleasure."
"Agent Uzumaki," Sai said. "I was told I'd find you here. I have--" He coughed, reached into his suit and found the envelope. "-- something to give you."
"Tokyo seems to have spared no expense. When I go on vacation, I don't mean to be found."
"My apologies, then. This is for you." Sai laid the envelope down on the table, then took a seat.
A tiny waitress with ruddy tanned skin rushed out to wait on him. As she approached, Sai felt his heart go out to her; in China, beauty meant tall and pale, and as pretty as this one was, she would not be so pretty in a village like this. She said something to him. Sai blushed and asked her if she spoke Mandarin. She stared at him for a moment, unsure, then shook her head and said, "No no," very rapidly.
"Ah," Sai said. He picked up the menu, pointed to a drink on it. She nodded, understanding and vanished.
Meanwhile, Tokyo operative Naruto Uzumaki opened the envelope, looked at it. "A letter from the elder himself, how nice."
The letter was digital. Fibre-optics on its face projected lights, and lettering appeared. Digital blueprints and readouts followed.
Naruto looked up. "The Sanford laboratories?"
"All destroyed," Sai said. "No suspects expect for this Raven fellow."
"And he is in China then?"
"So our--" The waitress had reappeared with iced tea. "Ah, thank you, dear, thank you." He waited until she left, then said, "So our men believe. I'm here to collect you and take you to Hong Kong."
"Charming. I do love it when our government cuts my vacation short."
"We do it for Japan, Uzumaki. For Japan."
"I shall have to collect my things from my hotel."
X
The hotel was small. Sai waited outside while Naruto went up the stairs, along a walkway suspended over an alleyway rife with palm trees, and into a small corridor. The hotel was small enough to provide actual metal keys rather than keycards, and soon Naruto was inside his room. It was small and quaint, two windows to let spiraling golden dust play through the light, a small wooden desk, and large wooden closet, and a tiny, uncomfortably hard bed. The Chinese believed hard mattresses meant better sleeping, but Naruto sometimes had to disagree.
He was surprised, however, to find a young, attractive Chinese man in his bed.
Naruto looked at him, moved to the desk, picked up his briefcase and placed it on the desk. Then he turned to the man and said, "Hello."
"Hello," the man said. He was shirtless, and muscular. He wore silk pants, sheer. He lifted one leg and smiled. "The hotel staff sent me up here to... provide for your every need."
Naruto laughed. "My every need." He opened his briefcase. It swung open, a small pocket mirror peering at him. Naruto pulled out a comb, and peered into the mirror, pulling it through his hair. "Glad to know the hotel manager knows about my particular proclivities."
"Would you like me to pour you some tea? Draw you a bath?"
"What's your name?"
"They call me Rooster."
Naruto laughed, glanced back at him. "How loud can you crow?"
Rooster chuckled, lay back on the bed. "Why do you think they call me Rooster?"
Naruto turned back to the mirror, and in it he could see the large man silently coming out of the wooden wardrobe, the knife in his hands, creeping up on him.
"You know--" Naruto said. He turned, grabbed the man's hand, twisted it, and shoved the comb into the man's throat. He made a gurgling noise and fell back, the knife dropping into the carpet. "I do like a man not afraid to come out of the closet."
Instantly, Rooster was on the bed, a knife in his hands. He leapt forwards, slashing and swiping. Naruto ducked twice, tumbled past him, picking up the knife from the ground. Rooster turned, moving gracefully, definitely a practiced martial artist. Naruto knocked away the knife, and threw his; it spun through the air and buried itself in the back of the larger thug, who'd just got to his feet.
The phone rang. Naruto turned, picked it up. "Rooster," he said, "I think it's for you!"
He shattered the receiver against the young beauty's head, and dropped him.
Naruto brushed down his suit. "Goodness."
X
Sai looked up from the golf cart he had commandeered as Naruto came out of the hotel, carrying his briefcase. "You took longer than I expected. Trouble upstairs?"
Naruto sat down in the cart. "No, none whatsoever."
As they drove away, the theme music began.