In the Year of the Rabbit...

The first morning of the Year of the Rabbit began for Caldwell Young as he shaved, trying to keep a patch of mirror visible with his face in it while three other young men were using the same mirror over the same sink, about the average at the moment for any of the sinks and mirrors. Caldwell dropped his razor, and the little Mara picked it up, flew up to his face, and began to shave him, saying, "Did you miss me?"

"Why did you come back today?" asked Caldwell Young.

His little demon said, "I don't have to answer that, and I won't. You're up much too early. The trains won't be running for two more hours."

"We've chartered a bus," said Caldwell Young. "But you know that."

"Well, yes. I didn't do this, you know. It was just her time," said his little bit of Mara the demon.


On the first morning of the Year of the Rabbit, Koizumi Chika woke up alone from a dream where she had not been alone, and wept for a few minutes.


On the first morning of the Year of the Rabbit, Heather Saotome checked several websites while she ate her morning cereal and drank the most essential coffee of the day. She hadn't checked obituaries for a few days, and now she found that Mrs. Kolberg had died. Her body was to be taken to New Zealand for burial. There was no memorial mentioned.

Then Heather checked the weather forecast, and found that thunderstorms with sleet and hail were predicted as probable at intervals through the entire day. Considering that, Heather began her day off by going back to bed until 10:13, when TBK in the person of the second grandson's office lady called Heather to say that Heather would have to work after all.


They had planned for a day of ten hours, but the mission group did not return until just before dawn on the following morning. The bus was late, and the hearse was later. The trip was long, and the airport was closed down when they arrived. Flights did not resume until after three AM, and they were authorized only because the airport had to be cleared for incoming traffic—Tokyo International had been closed because of a ground casualty. They rode trains back.

Mission President Kolberg went immediately to his office, and Caldwell Young followed him automatically, as he had since November. "You've been invaluable to the mission as my personal assistant," said Kolberg, settling into his chair.

Caldwell Young said, "Thank you. Is there anything I should do right now?"

Kolberg said, "Get some sleep—after we talk. Sit down."

Caldwell sat in one of the two guest chairs instead of at his own small desk. Among the items on the Mission President's desk was a miniature handcart encased in a Lucite cube, and in the reflection from the side facing him he saw his familiar demon was curled up on his shoulder, sleeping, or feigning sleep. She hadn't spoken in a long while.

"I'm sending you back to Kabukichō," said Kolberg, looking somewhere to the right of Caldwell, the other side from the napping demon. "You'll have a new partner, Ezekiel Braxton, who should be here tonight if his flight isn't delayed by this weather. Braxton's original mission partner resigned. I'm asking you not to inquire about the circumstances."

"So I work as I did before? I mean, as you laid out the assignment?" asked Caldwell Young.

"For some unknown reason, the ministry won't issue two new permits, only one to replace Mr. McNamara. You are the only chance for any of us to witness there for this year and the next," said Kolberg.

"When do I begin?" asked Caldwell Young.

"If Braxton is here, tomorrow," said Kolberg. He unlocked his desk and brought out a letter—not with its envelope. The letter was stained and water damaged. "You are free for the day. If you don't want to sleep, you may go out. It might be better if you didn't talk with the others too much."

The first sheet of his mother's letter was unreadable except for just a bit by the upper right corner, which was torn. The letter was eleven days old. From the second page on it went:


of the school year. If we haven't found a place by then, we'll probably stay in Blackfoot with Terry's family, although Caren seems to really want us to come live with her. I'd be afraid for the girls all the time there, although looking at it sensibly, Terry really can't afford for us to stay for very long and Caren could keep us as long as we want.

I have no regrets but selfish ones about giving over our home to others. Even when your father was alive, the farm was failing. If we stayed one more year here I'm sure one of your sisters would probably find a boy to fall in love with and leaving would break her heart for the first time. I've already paid back the loans you took out, so don't say one more word about that subject to me. When you return to our country, you will begin with a fresh start.

If only your father could be there when you return from your mission. Of course he will be there in spirit, but to see how proud he will be on his own living face, that is a joy I will very much regret to miss.

Kathy Ullman had her baby, a little boy, and she changed her mind about the adoption. She came to the Sunday service with him, and he was just the perfect little gentleman through the whole thing. She named him "Conner."

I got a call from your other brother on his birthday. Jack's joined the Army. He said if he'd waited until his birthday, he'd have been too old for the Army to take him. Maybe he'll make his home there. We didn't speak of The Church at all, of course, or about your father. I tried not to say it, but when I told him I was worried that he'd be sent to the fighting, he said he had to go and he hung up before he talked to the girls. Well, Jack is Jack, I guess.

I'm in Idaho Falls, by the way. Martha had to have a tooth pulled and we don't have a dentist in the county any more. Dr. Young moved to Seattle. It was the usual story; he liked living with us, but his wife couldn't stand living out here on the backside of the moon. Martha should be back soon. I'll find a box to mail this from before we go back home.

Love,

Mother


"Is that a new letter from home?" asked the man sitting in the next bunk over, with a pile of letters beside him.

"Just the one," said Caldwell Young, folding it up.

"These are old letters," the man said—Taylor, but was it his first or last name?

"I've got some business to take care of," said Caldwell, stuffing the letter in shirt pocket.

"I guess it can't wait," said Taylor-whatever or whatever-Taylor, loneliness and disappointment apparent.

"No," said Caldwell, slipping on his all-weather coat.

A few steps beyond the dormitory, his familiar demon said, "You do know you hurt that boy's feelings."

"I can't do anything for him now," snapped Caldwell.


Koizumi-sensei had passed out before she'd finished for her second drink. She was propped by hosts on either side of her, so she was in no danger of falling over. Issei-san, the acting manager of the host bar for this night, was one of them. He explained to Heather Saotome, "Koizumi-sensei started in the second year of the school, so she was never my homeroom teacher since I was in my second year then. But I took other classes from her. She is like a little sister to all of us from the Host program. We know about her and the tall gaijin." He wasn't putting on the host persona now that Koizuma was unconscious, but Heather thought he had a dangerous amount of natural charm without his act. He was also a good multitasker; as he talked, with a slight gesture he signaled another host toward two new women standing uncertainly just inside the entrance, which Heather could see in the mirrored wall behind Miyazaki Issei.

"For someone who trains people to serve liquor she's not very good at holding it," said Heather. "You meant the current school when you said she began in the second year?"

"No, the first school, the one that burned. I am a first-year man. I could tell you many interesting things, but of course I won't, because even if you are very beautiful and could pass for a Japanese with a little more time here, I am not forgetting that you are really a gaijin, and a reporter. Hosts must be good at keeping secrets. Like the geisha of Edo, we keep them." Wordlessly, he signaled the second host to leave. "Tell me about the gaijin."

Heather said, "All I know is that he was released from the hospital he was in."

Miyazaki said, "I know that, and so does Koizumi-sensei. Tell me what you know of the man."

Heather said, "I didn't know him, really. All I can tell you that I'm sure he had a good heart. And he's not as stupid as I'm sure you must think, he's...the place he's from is something like the wildest parts of Akita-ken. I'm sure he knows a lot about cows and sheep—"

"But nothing at all about women," finished Miyazaki. "Don't patronize me. No man understands very much about women, not even the best Host in Japan."

"And that would be you?" Heather said.

Miyazaki said, "No, that would be Takei-sensei, who trained me. I am only Number Two. I will have to wait until he really retires before I can assume the championship."

"And do you have a wife and children hidden away, like Takei-sensei?" Heather said.

Miyazaki said, "All hosts are bachelors for their customers. What of you, reporter-san? Husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend, perhaps?"

"You should have checked 'D: None of the above,'" said Heather. "By the way, they didn't send the other boy back to America after all. I was out at Narita Airport yesterday doing a story and there he was with the other missionaries."

Miyazaki said, "You mean, the gaijin missionaries are all going back home now?"

Heather said, "No, they were escorting a body. The wife of one of their priests died. I actually knew her a little, she was a good person."

Miyazaki said, "I'm sorry. That was a very bad joke."

Heather said, "Never mind. Anyway, there was his partner, Young-san, right next to their priest. I didn't talk with him, but either they let him stay or let him come back."

Miyazaki took an elegant sip from his drink, which probably had no alcohol but certainly looked real, and said after another short pause, "I don't normally bring this up, but is this going on your expense account?"

"No," said Heather Saotome.

Miyazaki said, "I should have asked you before. I will take care of the bill, but let me order the drinks from now on, please?"


"Speak of the devil," said Saotome the reporter, loud enough to be heard over the buzzes of conversations in the host bar. Caldwell Young froze for a second.

"Relax, she doesn't see me," said his familiar.


Several drinks later Miyazaki hadn't yielded up any of the stuff Heather had been digging for when Heather Saotome noticed the missionary boy at the entrance. "Who is that man?" Miyazaki asked after she had called out.

"What, you don't know?" retorted Heather Saotome.

"That isn't Koizumi-sensei's gaijin," said Miyazaki, and then he said something in Kabuchikō-cant that Heather couldn't follow at all. Whatever it was, the bouncers released the boy and bowed apologies.

Heather explained, "No, it's his partner, the one I saw at the airport."

"I've never seen that one myself," said Miyazaki.

"I'm sure you would have recognized him if you had," said Heather. "Didn't they teach you how to remember faces at Mizushō?"

"Of course," said Miyazaki, making a gesture. Most of the hosts in the establishment left their guests to form a sort of receiving line for the boy to Miyazaki's C-shaped table, which of course was the best in the house. One of the usually invisible waiters manifested with champagne and proper glasses for it. Good champagne, Heather thought, or at least genuine French from the cartouche on the label. "Young-san, I have heard many good things about you. Have you come with your friend McNamara-san?" said Miyazaki.

"I am sorry, no. Is Koizumi-sensei sick?" asked Caldwell Young.

"She is just sleeping. This happens every time she comes here. We are thinking of getting a cot for her," jested Miyazaki.

"McNamara-san told me all you hosts from the school look after her," said Caldwell Young.

"Your friend told you the truth. Of course, we don't let Koizumi-sensei know that we do. Even if she seems like a fifth-grader, she will always be our sensei," said Miyazaki Issei.

"I think some of the police here take extra care for her, too," said Caldwell Young.

"Ah, Sawamura-san. He is the best cop we have had here for a long time. Have you met his wife?" asked Miyazaki.

"No," said Caldwell Young.

"You would like her. Everyone likes her. She is is quite like our sensei in many ways. Including this one; she can never finish a second drink. Sometimes not even her first one," said Miyazaki.

"Miyazaki-san would have made a good policeman himself," said Heather Saotome, trying to join the conversation.

"No, I cannot fight," said Miyazaki.

"A lover and not a fighter, neh?" goaded Heather Saotome. "I guess one can't be both."

"There are many who can do both. Takei-sensei is the best," said Miyazaki. "I can do only one thing well, however."

"Does she come here a lot?" asked the boy. The missionary was addressing Heather; he was using English.

"She's not a drunk, if that's what you mean," replied Heather, and switched to Japanese to add, "Why have you come looking for Koizumi-sensei when you have nothing to tell her about McNamara-san? Or do you have something?"

"I know nothing new about Stan," said the boy, still using English, still freezing out Miyazaki, if Miyazaki had no English. It was quite impolite, and the boy knew enough to know it was impolite. That meant he was very upset, at least. He went on, still in English. "I'll be working here again, maybe starting with tomorrow, with a new partner. I wanted Koizumi to know before I showed up. I wanted a chance to tell her without my new partner, and this is my only opportunity to do that."

"Should I wake her?" asked Miyazaki. He used Japanese, but, clearly, he did have some English, Heather Saotome noticed. Caldwell Young did not notice.

"No. Perhaps you shouldn't tell her I was here," said Caldwell Young, in Japanese.

"Mr. Young," said Miyazaki in accented English, "Do you have feeling for Koizumi-sensei same as Mr. McNamara?"

Caldwell Young said, "No. No, I don't, Mr. Miyazaki."

Heather said, "That's a relief. But you are holding a torch for someone, aren't you?"

"What do you mean, 'torch'?" asked Miyazaki.

Heather said, "It means Young-san loves someone who doesn't love him the same way. Young-san, I thought it might be that way when I first met you. Was I right?"

The missionary boy said, "Saotome-san is correct, Miyazaki-san. I loved a girl in America, but she loved someone else. I was never a rival with my friend for Koizumi-sensei."

"But it was against the rules of your church, so you told your priest, and he sent McNamara-san away," said Miyazaki.

Caldwell Young said, "I did not tell my Mission President until after McNamara-san was gone."

"I see. And yet, here you are now." Miyazaki's manners still seemed flawless, but it was clear to Heather that the professional ego masseur was showing real contempt.

"I'm not saying I'm blameless," said the boy, first in English, and then in the Japanese equivalent. "I do know that it was a pure relationship. McNamara-san would have married Koizumi-sensei if she had allowed it. I think he might have even left our Church to do it, and he might just do it yet. I think it might be better for both of them if they did not get together again, but if either of them asked me to help them, I would."

Miyazaki was transfixed for a moment. Perhaps he would have gone on in silence, except that a woman called out to him, "Miyazaki-san, have you done the right thing and married Koizumi-sensei yet?"

Heather had been concentrating on the boy and Miyazaki, so she had missed seeing the woman enter—women, actually, or women and girls. The woman was a silver-haired matron in a wheelchair, surrounded by girls who wore their hair the same way, in two buns at the base of slender ponytails—except that one had four of the small buns along with an inexplicably abundant loose fall of long wavy hair. Three had left their hair normally black, but one had colored her hair and her eyebrows cherry-red. One of them was an African, but she wore her tight curls in the same way as the others with two buns. All but the African had contacts that made their eyes blue. The tallest girl, the one pushing the matron's chair, was wearing a striking black Chinese gown with a single spectacular blue rose in shimmering embroidery.

"Ah, you know I can never marry, Chiba-sama," said Miyazaki. The matron introduced the girls as her daughters, including the African. They did not stay long; only the one of the girls had reached drinking age. The one with cherry-red hair clearly would have liked to have stayed longer, and two of the regular customers left, looking unhappy, before the matron and her brood had finished. The matron drank only one glass of champagne, and the tall one, half a glass.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" inquired Heather when the strange party departed.

"A very rich widow," said Miyazaki. "Or a mistress, or both. I haven't seen her for a couple of years. You know the saying, don't be surprised to find anyone in Kabukichō."

"She has connections, whoever she really is," said Heather.

"Yes. Dangerous, perhaps, to follow those connections," said Miyazaki.

"I'll say it again, you'd make a good cop, even if you really couldn't fight," said Heather. Dammit, he's starting to charm me! "Good reporter, too"

"But I make a better host," said Miyazaki shedding all false modesty.

Heather resolved to break the spell. She turned to the missionary boy and saw something unexpected: fear. "Mr. Young, is something wrong?"

"Ah, no. No. Nothing," he stumbled.

"Did you know that woman?" asked Heather. "She's from America—well, she's been there longer than she's lived in Japan. Or so she said." Hadn't he listened to the conversation at all?

"I have to be going now," said the missionary boy, draining his champagne glass. And he was off.

Miyazaki drained his own glass, much more slowly. When he set it down, he asked, "You know that gaijin boy. What frightened him just now?"

"I don't really have a clue," said Heather. "I asked if he knew of that woman, and he said he didn't."

"He did not recognize her when she first came. But when I looked at him again, he had, I think," said Miyazaki.

"I don't think he was lying," said Heather Saotome. "He's never had to learn to lie."

Miyazaki commented, "And yet he knows something about our merry widow that he did not tell us about. Perhaps about one of those connections we were speaking of."

Heather considered, then dismissed Miyazaki's conjecture. "That couldn't be it. He's a lot brighter than McNamara-san, but he's still a farm kid from the middle of nowhere. I looked into where he comes from. Akita-ken is the closest I could come to in Japan, but it's really more like, say, Mongolia or Tibet."


Caldwell Young had no plan other than getting away, to the train back to the dormitory, and sleep, and sanity, except perhaps believing he had a demon familiar. But his fate had more in store for him. Not two steps into the street he found Skuld Torsdottir standing there, enormously pregnant now, and carrying her sleeping child, looking right at him. "I...I don't do this all the time," he sputtered.

"No he doesn't," said his demon, adding, "Saotome the reporter is up in there."

"I know, with Koizumi-sensei," said Skuld. "Why are you apologizing to me, Mr. Young?"

"He was in the host club," said the little demon.

"That's odd, but why should I care?" said Skuld.

"The rabbit queen and her daughters just visited," said his demon. "One of them opened her third eye to get a better look at me."

"Really? And you saw that, did you, Mr. Young?" asked Skuld.

"Yes, that's exactly what I saw," said Caldwell Young.

"Don't be scared, she's a nice person. The nicest of the sisters, except maybe for Keisha," said Skuld.

"You know them?" asked Caldwell Young.

"I don't see them much, but I know them," replied Skuld.

"Julie-chan is hot for him," said the demon.

"Julie-chan is hot for every good-looking boy. But her mother won't let her bother you, Young-san."

"If she keeps her eye on Julie-chan 25 hours a day," appended the demon.

"Where is the rest of you, Mara?" asked Skuld with irritation.

"In Pub Temple with your sisters, fertile Myrtle. You could have left Miyuki-chan with us. Hiyo-chan kept asking for her until she fell asleep."

"You know Miyuki-chan wanted to go with me," said Skuld.

"You should made her stay anyway. What was so important that you had to go back?" said the demon.

"Proctoring an exercise for the first-years and finishing some student president business. Are you having enough fun tormenting Young-san?"

"Not really, but I'm out of practice."

"Mr. Young, you can come with us," said Skuld, returning to courteous tones and vocabulary. "Do you know about Pub Temple?"

"No," said Caldwell Young. "I've never been inside a place that serves liquor until tonight."

Skuld said, "It's the only bar here where mothers can bring their children. Before Mizushō got a day-care center, it was the only place student mothers could keep their children near the school."


Ezekiel Bradbury Braxton V arrived at the center after midnight. Mr. Kolberg, the Mission President, did little more than show him to his dormitory bunk when he arrived. He did know the name of his new mission partner, "Caldwell Young," and that was the name on the bunk beneath his, but there was no one in it. Many of the sleepers were snoring, and the loudest of all was in the top bunk of the next set. Again, no one in the lower bunk, but the covers were down, so this indicated a temporary absence which was filled before Braxton had finished changing into his pajamas. "Brother Young, you're wearing pajamas now?"

Pulling his head through the neck hole, Braxton said, "Sorry, I'm not Brother Young. Is he working late?"

"I think Mr. Kolberg had an errand for him," said the newcomer. "My name is Taylor, Johnston Taylor."

"My name is Ezekiel Bradbury Braxton V, and you may call me Brother Zeke, if you like it better than than Brother Braxton. I guess it's a long errand for Brother Young."

"I don't know what it was. Are you going to be his new partner?"

Braxton said, "Yes, Brother Taylor."

"Since the trouble with Brother McNamara, Brother Young has been working with Mr. Kolberg."

Braxton asked, "What was the trouble?"

"We're not supposed to talk about it. I'm sure Mr. Kolberg will tell you what you need to need to know. Him or..."

Braxton prompted, "His wife?"

"Mrs. Kolberg has passed," said the too-wide-awake neighbor. "The weather was so bad...anyway, Mr. Kolberg is staying on until a new couple comes."

Braxton said, "I'm sorry. Is that your partner up there?"

"Yes, Brother Hill. It can take some time to get used to him."

"At night, yes," said Braxton. Brother Hill was snoring very loudly. "What exactly was my partner doing before?"

"They were witnessing in a tough neighborhood. They were the only people the government would give permits for."

Braxton asked, "Tough? You mean his partner was attacked?"

"No, that's not what happened. Some of the others could tell you about it. Once we tried to send more teams, but then we found out we could use only one team."

Braxton said, "Really. Sounds to me like the government here may not like us very much."

"Were you planning on coming to Japan?"

Braxton said, "Yes, but not Tokyo. We were supposed to go to Okinawa."

"What happened?"

Braxton said, "Something I could tell you about, but it would be better if I didn't. You seem to know my new partner pretty well."

"Well, he'll talk to me. Brother Hill isn't much on just talking."

To you, thought Braxton. Thank the Lord this one isn't my partner.


Zeke Braxton found his partner's bunk filled when the lights were switched on, all too soon after Taylor finally shut up. He looked manly enough, but, as Zeke had recently learned in a very hard way, that was no guarantee. "Brother Young? Brother Young?" His partner's lips moved as if he was beginning to talk, but no sound came out. "Brother Young?" No sound yet, although the face got a pinched look. "Brother Young?" Still no sound. Finally he grabbed a shoulder, shook it, and said "BROTHER YOUNG!" directly into the man's face—and caught a slight odor of lingering alcohol.

At last his partner opened his eyes. "Are you from Hell?"

"No, I'm from Colorado. I'm Zeke Braxton, and you are supposed to be my partner. Ohayo. Do you speak any Japanese at all?"

"I speak a little," said Young, sitting up. "Are you ready to start?"

"Yes," said Braxton.

"I'd change out of those pajamas first if I were you."

"Funny," said Braxton.

"It's not a joke. The MP said if you were here, we would start working today. Well, you're here. We can get breakfast later. The trains will be running in twenty minutes. I want us on the first one." Young pushed past him with towel and razor in hand. Braxton saw that his partner wasn't wearing pajamas, or the garment, or anything.

Taylor in the next bunk over certainly noticed.


"Look, the missionary is back," said Officer Iwai.

"You mean Koizumi-sensei's man?" asked Officer Kotobuki.

"No, the other one, Young-san," said Officer Sawamura. "He sent me a text. Iwai-kun, we can meet him later, if we have time."

"Sawamura-sempai, I think perhaps we should make time," said Officer Kotobuki. "Look who's coming out of Pub Temple."


Zeke Braxton could read most of the signs until they crossed the Yasakuni-dori, but beyond the Red Gate, his book-learning began to fail him. Just keeping up with his partner took most of his attention. Already the streets were filling up here. If he fell behind, Braxton realized he would be completely lost. The place was a maze. He almost did lose his partner, but he found that Young had stopped. If he hadn't, Braxton thought he could have taken hours to find his way out, much less locate Young again. Braxton hadn't quite got to his partner when he saw something incredibly shocking: A man in an expensive suit grabbed a schoolgirl from behind. Shouting something, he squeezed her tiny breasts. When Braxton shouted and began to rush toward the man, an iron hand gripped his wrist, and someone tripped him. He then discovered he had been stopped by two angry-looking police officers (one of them a woman). Meanwhile the schoolgirl laughed, said she was all right, and laughed again.

His partner said something he actually understood, but not to him. "Sawamura-san, Koizumi-sensei is drunk."

"I know, I know," said the policeman with the iron hand.

"How could you let that happen?" asked the female officer.

"I didn't do it! Urudo-san and her mother took her out after we closed!" said a woman with glasses and a bartender's apron.

"And I brought her back." It was the man who had grabbed her breasts, who was laughing too.

"Why didn't you take her home?" demanded the female barkeeper.

"I don't know where Koizumi-sensei lives, and she won't tell me," said the breast-grabbing man climbing onto his motorcycle. "I have to go now."

"You can't expect her to work like this," said the barkeeper.

"She can take one day off. She hasn't taken a sick day since she started, you know." The big motorcycle roared to life and carried away the breast-grabbing man. So this is how the police are here? thought Zeke Braxton.

When the police left, and the woman (with a barman's apron) and a very large man took the schoolgirl inside the bar they were in front of, which actually had a sign he could read, "Pub Temple"—that is, when he was alone, except for anonymous strangers passing by—Braxton asked, "Why did you do nothing to help the little girl from that pervert?"

"She's much older than she looks. She's a high school teacher, and the pervert is the Minister of Education," said Young in Japanese. "Can you speak any Japanese at all, Brother Braxton?"

"That is why the cops grabbed me? Because of him?" asked Braxton.

Young shook his head. "Koizumi-sensei is a special person here. If anyone were to actually hurt her, they would be lucky if the cops got to them before the yakuza."

Braxton said, "You're joking."

"No," Young said firmly.

An older schoolgirl passed by, sailor top, short light blue skirt...and stubble not just on her legs but on his face. He stopped to exchange brief words with his partner, and then went on.

"Was that—" Braxton began to ask.

Young cut off the question. "It might help if you think of yourself as being on Mars. This is a different world. Now, the McDonalds this way is a good place to get a breakfast that doesn't involve miso soup and soy products a hog might not eat, and to meet gaijin who are going to be our only realistic prospects to win over to The Church."

Braxton thought he might just prove that statement wrong when he began talking to a Japanese woman there while his partner was in the bathroom. That is, until Young returned and she turned out to be a television reporter from Seattle. "Busted," she said in perfectly American English. "Heather Saotome, fourth-generation American. And my mother is Korean, which I have not told the people I work for."

"She works for a network here. Did you go home after you abandoned Koizumi-sensei?" asked Young.

"No, I checked us into the nearest love hotel. When I woke up later, she was gone. What happened?" asked the reporter. The reporter and his partner went over recent events, totally ignoring Braxton, but at least they talked either in English or Japanese he could actually understand—almost all of it. It did not take that long. The reporter excused herself, taking up her cell before she had passed the next stool on her way out.

"Miss Saotome seems to know you very well," remarked Braxton once she was gone.

"She's not my girlfriend if that's what you mean," said Young.

"Do you have one back home?" asked Braxton.

"No. You want to date Saotome-san?" teased Young.

"Of course not. That's against the rules," said Braxton.

"Really? Brother Braxton..." Young hesitated. "This is just a wild guess, but do you think I'm gay?"

"Aren't you?" said Braxton.

"No. But your first partner is, isn't he?" said Young.

"Yes."

"Too bad for both of you," said Young. "For your ears only, my first partner fell in love with Koizumi-sensei. And she fell in love with him, which is why I think she lets herself get drunk now.

"And the Minister of Education?" asked Braxton.

"He's a dirty old man, but he sticks to women," said Young.

"How long did you let his affair go on? Your partner, I mean," said Braxton.

"They didn't send him back because of that," said Young. "They sent him back in a straitjacket. If you want to get out of this mission, tell them Saotome is my girlfriend. She'll play along."

Braxton said, "Lying is a sin."

Young said, "Not always. Anyway, if you want to do a mission, I'm sure you'll have to do it with me. As Mr. Kolberg said to me when I started, 'persevere'... Excuse me for a minute."

Young got up and walked past Braxton's back, which was the way toward the nearest door to the street. A woman was bringing a stroller through the door—an empty one, because the child was out and running ahead. The woman was an albino, the child normal-looking. The child ran past Braxton, grabbed the remaining bacon from Young's breakfast, and began eating it. She had large teeth for a small girl—or perhaps a boy with long hair. The child was wearing overalls and a tee-shirt, no clues as to its sex. He or she stared into Zeke Braxton's eyes while eating all of his partner's bacon, and then all of his.

When the strange child finished her bacon, and turned her viper's gaze away to grab a napkin, Zeke Braxton became aware of someone standing behind the child, one hand on its head. The someone was wearing a skirt, the same hue as the transvestite "schoolgirl" but much longer, hanging past the knees. No stubble on the shins visible above the white socks—normal socks, not the bulky ones he had seen on some of the other girls in uniforms. Zeke wasn't sure the someone was in that uniform because a coat hung down to just a few inches above the hem of the sky-blue skirt, and the skirt was so much longer than any of the others he had seen. The someone's face was lovely, and great kindness seemed to be in it as the person looked down at the child. Then the person's eyes looked into Zeke's, and the person said "Ohayo gozaimas' to him, upon which he fell off his stool and the hood of his coat came down over his eyes. Howls of laughter filled the air, including his partner's. When Young pulled him up, and pulled the hood off Zeke's head, the someone was gone.

Forty-seven minutes later, Zeke Braxton humbled himself to ask his partner, "Um, that, uh...woman in McDonald's—"

"Her name is Mara. Her little girl is 'Hiyo.'"

"No, I meant..."

"Oh, that one," said Young, chuckling.

"I thought you might know who...who she was," sputtered Braxton.

"Well, I..." Zeke's partner hesitated for an unusually long moment, turning his head aside."

"Well?" prompted Braxton.

Young said, "Yeah...uh, she's a high-school student, second year."

"She," repeated Zeke Braxton.

Once again his partner hesitated, seeming distracted, though for not as long as before. Then he laughed. "She's a real girl, Brother Braxton."

"How are you sure of that?" blurted Braxton.

"Because she's in the same program as Torus'dottaa-san," said Zeke Braxton's partner. "There's a different program for boys who want to be girls."

Later that day, the same police officers showed up after a man in robes with a shaved head had been dogging them for some time, yelling abuse, from the tones. Braxton couldn't follow it; apparently his partner could, because he responded occasionally, sometimes causing the cursing man to pause, or at least change his tone or volume. The police did not arrest the man, but apparently they did persuade him to go away. After Braxton was sure the police had gone, he asked his partner, "Do you know that crazy man?"

Young explained, "He's the priest of the Buddhist temple here. He doesn't care for foreigners, or missionaries. Usually he stays near the temple, but sometimes you'll run into him in other places. We aren't supposed to go on the temple grounds, by the way. That's a specific directive from Mr. Kolberg."

Braxton said, "I haven't seen a temple here."

Young said, "It's in the southeastern corner of the neighborhood. It's in some of the tourist guidebooks, though it's not that old. This whole neighborhood was destroyed in the war. Half the city was destroyed, but Kabukichō was especially thoroughly destroyed."

Ezekiel Bradbury Braxton V thought of a another question, but did not say it aloud.