On September 1:
in 1159 Nicholas Breakspear died, and there hasn't been a second English pope so far.
in 1244 Kujō Yoritsune the fourth shogun of the Kamakura dynasty died.
In 1532 Lady Anne Boleyn still had her head, and her boyfriend King Harry made her the Marchioness of Pembroke
In 1644 James Graham, 5th Earl of Montrose, won the Battle of Tippermuir for his king, Charles I of Scotland and England. Later King Chuck got his head whacked off and Jimmy was hanged, leaving behind a toast: "He either fears his fate too much, Or his desserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To win or lose it all!" Contact Dr. Jerry Pournelle if you'd like to know why it would be nice if more people knew who Lord Montrose was than who know who Lady Gaga is.
In 1715 King Louis XIV of France died after being king for 72 years, leaving France to his great-grandson, Louis XV. Despite being King of France, Louis XIV definitely had some balls. He proved it not only by fathering a remarkable number of children, some of them legitimate, but also by turning a big chunk of Germany into more of France, a chunk that is still French. Of course, while this Louis spoke French, so did just about every white guy who could write down his own name. His Mom was Anne of Austria, who, of course, was Spanish. His father was supposed to be Louis XIII, but since the great love of Louis XIII was Cardinal Richelieu, his father just might have been George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, who probably swung both ways. Or maybe it was Cardinal Mazarin, an Italian protege of the great Richelieu, which could explain the Sun King's king-size nose and other appendages as well. Even if the fourteenth Louis really was the son of the thirteenth Louis, that Louis had an Italian mom, so Louis, 14th Edition, was either a half or a quarter French.
In 1772 Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa was founded, providing a great way to infect the Native Americans of California with fatal diseases and a great place to find a hotel before you visit the Hearst Castle. It takes a full day to take all four tours.
In 1804 a German astronomer discovered Juno, one of the largest known asteroids.
In 1836 Narcissa Whitman arrived in Walla Walla, Washington to help found a Methodist mission to the Native Americans. Eleven years, one month, and 29 days later, as Native American children were dying of measles, some of their parents noticed that the white children with measles being treated by Narcissa's husband, Dr. Marcus Whitman, did not seem to be dying at all, or at least nearly as often. They killed the grown-up Whitmans that day, beginning the Cayuse War, which went on for eight years.
In 1864 General John Bell Hood abandoned Atlanta. This ensured that Abraham Lincoln would be re-elected, that Confederate States of America would not win independence, and that slavery would end in North America, at least in any legal form.
In 1923 the Great Kantō earthquake struck Tokyo, killing more than 100,000 and wrecking the half-built hull of the battlecruiser Amagi so badly it was scrapped, though there had been plans to complete it as an aircraft carrier. Instead, a half-built battleship, Kaga was substituted. Eighteen years, three months, and seven days later, Kaga, along with Amagi's intended sister Akagi and four newer aircraft carriers, launched planes to bomb Pearl Harbor.
In 1939 Adolph Hitler pointed Germany at Poland and pulled the trigger, ending the "peace in our time" British Prime Neville Chamberlain announced at on the last day of the previous September.
In 1945, Japan was waiting for the capitulation ceremony aboard the USS Missouri on the morrow. Some Japanese took their quietus rather than see the next morning.
In 1983 Gennedi Opisovich shot down Korean Air Flight 007. Along with the Russian government, he was still insisting in 2010 that the Boeing 747 was over Soviet (now Russian) territory, despite the recovery of some artifacts and passenger remains on Hokkaido. Among the dead or missing are a United States Congressman and an eight month old girl from New York City, Borough of the Bronx.
In 2010 the 45th Yokozuna, Wakanoha Kanji I, passed away at age 82. The current Yokuzuna, or Grand Champion of Sumo, of this day was Asashōryū Akinori, who was born in Mongolia. Asashōryū had retired by this time.
"Wakey wakey," said Caldwell Young's personal demon.
"You're back," said Caldwell, yawning.
"I had my alarm set for September," said the tiny demon. "Your girlfriend's not here."
"Funny," said Caldwell Young.
"What's funny?" asked the new guy in Taylor's old bunk.
"The little demon on my shoulder. Can't you see her?" asked Caldwell Young.
"No," said the new guy.
The demon fluttered over to the new guy's shoulder, and made a show of talking into his ear.
"Can't hear her either?" asked Caldwell Young.
"No."
"Psych." He extended his right hand. "Caldwell Young, from Idaho."
"Henry Stewart, from New Mexico. Sorry about the hooks."
"Maybe he's a pirate re-enactor," said the demon.
"When did you lose your hands?" asked Caldwell Young.
"Last year, in the blizzards. I was down in Fukuoka. I sort of lost an argument with a truck, got knocked out, and woke up in a hospital. I lost half my toes, too, and this, of course." Stewart used one of his hook-prostheses to touch his badly reconstructed nose.
"What about your partner?"
"I guess he got lost in the storm," said Stewart. "He called my mom a few weeks ago. I'm from Taos, by the way."
"How long will you be here this time?" asked Ezekiel Bradbury Braxton V, recently returned from the bathroom.
"I don't know," said Stewart. "I've got a new passport and a new visa, so I guess I could be here for five years. Seven months, at least, to get in my two years."
"Really? You must have come here just one year before I did," said Caldwell.
"Maybe we'll be on the same plane back," said Stewart.
"If Caldwell goes back, yeah," said Braxton.
"My fiancee lives here in Japan," explained Caldwell.
"And she's a great fuck," stage-whispered Caldwell's demon, apparently directly into Stewart's ear.
"You're going to marry a Japanese girl?" asked Stewart.
"She's from Seattle," said Braxton. "If she isn't working, she'll probably be here for services in a little while."
"Yes, she's a television reporter. Quite a lot older than our Mr. Young," said the mission president's wife to Henry Stewart. "I handle a lot of work for my husband. It may be a different arrangement from what you got used to in Fukuoka. You have good marks in Japanese. Can you really speak with the natives? They really don't talk at all like in the textbooks most of the time."
"I was doing pretty well in Fukuoka," said Stewart. "The Kantō dialect is different, but I watched a lot of Japanese TV over the last year. It's what all their reporters use, and most of the actors. The dialect around the capital of a country always becomes the standard for "proper" speech."
"That's what my husband says," said the mission president's wife. "He's been teaching college-level Japanese for most of his life."
"Mr. Tanabe is from Fukuoka," said Stewart. "He still uses some of the dialect. He's—"
"One of the teachers from Sakuma-san's high school," interrupted Mrs. Kreisler "He comes with Sakuma-san almost every Sunday, with his family. His wife is also a teacher at Sakuma-san's school."
Stewart said, "Brother Braxton tells me they will marry as soon as he finishes his mission obligation."
"Actually they already are married," said the mission president's wife. "Not in The Church, of course, but they have a marriage license. Everyone here knows about it, and no one talks about it, or is supposed to talk about it. You wouldn't have a wife somewhere, would you, Brother Stewart?"
"No."
Mrs. Kreisler said, "That's good. None of the other missionaries has a spouse. Boyfriends and girlfriends, but no other secret marriages so far. Are you familiar with a place in Fukuoka called 'Nakasu?'"
Stewart answered, "Yes. Excuse me, but are you asking me if I had sex with prostitutes?"
"Have you?"
"No."
"That's very nice to hear. Do you know about a special high school in Nakasu, or near it?" asked the mission president's wife.
Stewart answered, "Yes. They have a high school there that trains girls to be prostitutes. There are others in Japan."
Mrs. Kreisler said, "Yes. The first one was built here in Tokyo. Someone burned it down but they rebuilt it, even bigger. Mr. Tanabe teaches at that school. Braxton's wife is a third-year student in their fūzoku program. Mrs. Nagasawa finished the same program. None of the other Japanese girls you met today are fūzokujō apprentices, but they all are students at that school. Mrs. Kurosawa is the head of their department. She was one of the top-earning Hostesses in Japan in her day. The economy was better back then, of course. The school is in Kabukichō."
"I've heard of that place. Where is it, exactly?" asked Stewart.
Mrs. Kreisler said, "It's part of Shinjuku Ward. Only three of our missionaries have ever worked there for more than a day, and one of them went nuts."
"And the other two?" asked Stewart.
Mrs. Kreisler said, "One of them married a prostitute and the other one is supposed to marry a reporter from Seattle he's been screwing for the last few weeks. My husband and I think you might do some good in Kabukichō. The Japanese government hasn't given us permits for more than two missionaries to solicit there, but maybe they won't bother a third one with no hands."
"What about my new partner?" asked Stewart.
Mrs. Kreisler said, "Take him along and see what happens. We've never gotten a complaint against him. Tag along with Cal. I'm sure you'll be okay."
"Should I begin tonight?" asked Stewart.
"No, in the morning," said the mission president's wife. "Tell Brother Hill I'd like to see him now."
"Tell him where Zeke is," said Caldwell Young's demon. "He's afraid to ask you."
Caldwell said quietly to Henry Stewart, "Brother Braxton is at my girlfriend's apartment. This is the only night he can be together with Miyuki-san. We'll meet up with him at the Shinjuku Station in the morning. Or at the McDonalds we always eat at."
Joe Hill, Henry Stewart's new partner, said, "These guys are never here for breakfast except maybe on Sunday. Just what is it you do, Brother Young?"
Caldwell's demon made a big show of yawning.
Caldwell started to explain: "We can't go knocking on doors. You must assume that foreigners are not welcome at any place you need to knock, or ring a doorbell, or pass by a doorkeeper. Assume that anyone standing by a doorway is a doorkeeper, even if they seem to be just talking to someone, or using their cellphone, or eating a snack."
"Can we hand out tracts?" asked Stewart.
"Braxton and I can, we have permits that say we can. You shouldn't. It's kind of a sore point. There are laws and regulations about soliciting people. Sometimes the police enforce them, and sometimes they don't. Police have been coming down on Hosts trying to make catches in Kabukichō and the other entertainment districts."
"Catches?" asked Hill. "Hosts of what?"
"The male equivalent of bar hostesses," explained Stewart. "Go on, please."
"A 'catch' is bringing a new customer to the bar you work for. Hostesses sometimes do the same thing, but not so often, and men don't seem to complain about it very much for some mysterious reason. Women do complain, quite a lot, and I guess it looks good to have the police arresting some Hosts out on the streets. Anyway, seeing us handing out our tracts when police are arresting Hosts for handing out their brochures brings out bad feelings, and even some fistfights. All the hosts who can make their living know how to fight. And if a fight involves a foreigner, it is always the fault of the foreigner. Remember that," emphasized Caldwell Young.
"Is the new boy from India?" asked Miyuki Braxton.
"He's not that kind of Indian," said Exekiel Bradbury Braxton V. "He's from New Mexico, so I guess he's probably Navajo. There are many Navajo in The Church. There was a Navajo boy in my primary school. He was adopted, so he didn't know anything about his culture except what he had read. The language is supposed to be very difficult to learn."
Miyuki said, "I saw a movie once where Navajo people were used to send secret messages. It was supposed to be in the war between Japan and America. Was any of that true?"
Zeke said, "Yes, it was true. There were some Indians in Europe who did the same thing. Not Navajo, I think. There are many, many Indian languages. Or there used to be. Most of them have died out."
Miyuki said, "Because your Indians died?"
Zeke said, "An awful lot of them did, mostly from diseases my people brought from the Old World. But the languages are dying out because the children don't grow up speaking them any more. For a long time, our government took Indian children away to boarding schools where they were not allowed to speak their own languages, only English. The Church helped them—helped our government, I mean. And the other churches, many of them...it worked, mostly. Only a few tribes have held on to their languages, mostly because they are the biggest ones. The Navajo are one of the largest tribes. They have their own government, something like one of our state governments, or at least like a big city or an important county. They have a lot of land, even if it is mostly desert. They don't have to be around white people who speak English if they don't want to be."
"We have some people here in Japan that are something like your Indians," said his Miyuki.
"The Ainu?" prompted Zeke.
Miyuki said, "Yes. They all live in Hokkaido now, but once they lived over much of Japan. Even here. Some of my people are ashamed of what was done to the Ainu."
Zeke said, "Actually, some scientists believe that your Ainu and the people we call our Indians—Native Americans, now—are most closely related to the Ainu. But there may not be any pure Ainu or any pure Native Americans left, or enough to be sure with genetic science."
Miyuki said, "But your church teaches that your Indians are the lost tribes of Israel, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Zeke Braxton. "Who's to say the Ainu didn't come from Israel, or at least some of them? The Assyrians made many of them slaves, and some of them could have been sold in the East. The first Israel fell centuries before your people came to Japan, and a man can walk from Baghdad to Pusan or Vladivostok in a few years. The man could build a boat, or buy a boat, or work passage on a boat, or steal a boat."
Miyuki asked, "Do you believe your Indians were once the lost tribes of Israel?"
"No," said Zeke Braxton. "We'd better get some sleep. School for you in the morning, and mission work for me."
"There are only two of those people with permits to solicit here," said the latest sergeant to be placed over Officer Sawamura and the rest of his squad. "Why do I see four, Sawamura-kun?"
"I see only two," said Detective Lieutenant Arima, without looking.
"It looks like only two," said Officer Kotobuki's father, the Chief of Detectives of the Metropolitan Police before his retirement. "My eyes are not as they were, but this is a new prescription," he added, minutely adjusting his glasses. "Nakajima-san, do you know one of those young men?"
"Yes," Nakajima Miyuki answered.
"How would you know one of those people?" asked the sergeant.
"She knows the man through me," erupted Yamada Tarō. "Send that fool away!"
Caldwell Young saw a crow, maybe, fly down behind the police. He thought for a moment it might be his demon, but he saw her reflection in a window, hovering over his head, wings beating like a hummingbird's. A second crow—or a raven, it was a large bird—came down. And then he saw the shinigami of his dreams, dressed as a carhop, roller-skating through the unseeing cops, including the ones trying to chase away the carrion birds. A gust from the gap between buildings the cops were guarding brought the odors to Caldwell's nose, and the odors took him back through time and space to a colder autumn, a sage hen, frost becoming dew, and the smell of his father's shotgun as he ejected the empty shell.
"Gunsmoke," said Henry Stewart. "I wonder who's the old man who just yelled?"
"Yamada Tarō," said Caldwell Young. "One of the richest men in Japan." His demon dug out his cellphone and put it in his right hand, and he texted the old man.
"Should we go talk to him?" asked Zeke Braxton.
"That don't seem like a good idea, what with all those cops around him," said Joe Hill. "You can really smell gunsmoke, Chief?"
"Not with this nose," said Stewart. "It's an old TV show. There was a cranky old doctor in it, and that old man reminds me of him. And, Brother Hill, you're right. We should get out of Dodge. Brother Young?"
"Yes," said Caldwell, closing his mission-issued cellphone.
"Miyuki-san?" prompted Zeke Braxton. "Miyuki?"
His Miyuki said, "I must go to the school now," and hurried off toward Mizushō.
"If I may ask, how do you know Chief Kotobuki?" asked Detective Lieutenant Arima.
"We were police officers," said Tsujimoto, the old man's other female bodyguard. "We met in Los Angeles."
"Yes," said the eldest Kotobuki present. "I'm afraid the details of the operation are still classified."
"I understand," said Lieutenant Arima politely. "May I have private words with you, Kotobuki-sama?" They went to Arima's car. The rookie officer serving as Arima's driver exited. Arima wasted no words. "We agree that the primary suspect must be the second grandson, yes?"
"Murder is so often a family matter," responded the more experienced investigator. "But not so much premeditated murder. I think this was carefully planned."
"Why? A shotgun was used, the most common type of firearm in Japan and the only type a civilian could reasonably obtain, even a very rich civilian," said Arima. "The older grandson has no more connections with criminal organizations than one would expect of any man with his power and wealth. Leaving the body to be found in Kabukichō will bring pressure on all yakuza, not just Matsuura-sama's family. And Matsuura-sama's people would war mercilessly on any other family who would contrive this outrage to make trouble for them. I think yakuza would have made the body vanish, or left it in a neutral location."
"It looks as if the barrel of the gun was pressed against the victim. The victim would have absorbed nearly all the blast. That might mean the noise was muffled. I think you should run a simulation to confirm that. I think it should be made public as soon as it is done. Go on," said the retired Chief of Detectives.
"I would rather hear what you think about the rest of my indictment of the younger grandson," said Arima.
"It is more than enough to begin interrogating a suspect," said Kotobuki Taizō. "I could get the man to confess."
"You know the younger grandson?"
"Not at all. I could get you to confess. But of course, you didn't do the crime," said the more experienced interrogator. "One should also consider whether any other police officer in Japan would interrogate the second son without the consent of the grandfather."
"Murder should have no class distinctions," said Arima. "Why else do you think this murder was carefully planned?"
"You saw cameras at both ends of that gap," said Kotobuki Taizō.
Lieutenant Arima said, "They are fakes. Even if they weren't, their cables have both been cut."
Kotobuki Taizō said, "My daughter told me about the cables. They can be reached by almost any fit adult without standing on anything. It's the cables that are the thief traps. The connectors are simple plug-ins, not locking or screw-in types. And they are lubricated with petroleum jelly so they will more easily slip out. Pulling out either end of either cable out will activate a silent alarm at the nearest police box and at the main station. But someone bothered to cut the cables instead, so the alarm was not tripped."
"How long have you known this?" asked Detective Lieutenant Arima after punching the seat ahead of him hard enough to ratchet it to the full-forward position.
"My daughter texted me while you were talking with Yamada-sama. I didn't want to say anything about it while the sergeant was close enough to hear. She knew because Officer Sawamura once stopped her from checking the cables—he set off the thief trap years ago when he first started working here. Why are you so angry with yourself?"
"I should have examined the cables myself," said Arima. "If they are freshly cut, your theory of the case is correct. The sergeant wouldn't know about the trap because he just transferred here. The captain wouldn't know because it's a detail that no one above the sergeant in charge should be concerned with unless there was a serious crime involved."
Kotobuki Taizō said, "No matter. It would have come out. You can't do everything yourself."
Noticing that the older detective was sounding distracted, Arima looked up from the carpeting and saw Kotobuki reading the screen of his cell. "It's Ran-chan again," said the father of two police officers and father-in-law of another, smiling. But his smile quickly faded. "Matsuura just asked to see the body before it is taken away."
"She called? Who would she call? Not your daughter!"
"Matsuura is there, now," said Kotobuki Taizō. "She can still walk," he added in wonder.
"Cal, did you hear the news?" asked Kathy Kreisler as soon as Caldwell Young answered.
"I didn't hear it, I saw it, I think," said Cal.
"What do you mean?" asked Kathy.
"I'm in Kabukichō," said Cal.
"That's where you're supposed to be. Anyway, I really called to tell you Freddie's parents are here," said Kathy.
After a moment, Cal said: "That is news. You mean, they're in Tokyo?"
"I mean they're here at the center. Stay out as late as you can—stay over with your girlfriend if you can. You're a complication I don't want my husband's folks to know about. Not yet, not here, maybe not ever."
"What about the others?" asked Cal.
There was a pause before Kathy Kreisler spoke to Caldwell again. "I forgot about Stewart and what's his name. But just do it, OK? Oh, one more thing. The news news is about the Mars expedition."
There were monitor screens at the largest McDonalds in Kabukichō. Even on the day the last Prime Minister of Japan had suddenly died all they had ever shown were cartoons suitable for all ages and ads for McDonalds, but on the second morning of the second September Caldwell Young spent in Japan they were showing Heather Saotome. Caldwell sat down next to an old white man wearing an all-sizes ball cap. The old man began to talk, saying: "I don't suppose you'd know what that gal up there on TV is saying."
"She's saying something about the Mars expedition," explained Caldwell as his demon flew up and turned up the volume.
"Is she saying anything new?" asked the old man, swiveling on his round, backless stool as far as he could without touching Caldwell. He was larger than the Japanese customer profile used by the architects and wider than any of the four missionaries now seated on his right.
"I don't know," said Caldwell. "Tell me what you already know."
"When she was talkin' American she said that Houston said there was a problem. That's about all Houston said, she said. And then she started talkin' Jap-ah-knees," said the old man, stopping for a deep breath, "And one of the pretty little gals workin' here came by with a little ladder, climbed up there, and turned down the volume so much it weren't matter what the pretty gal up there was speakin' American or not. D'ja fellers turn it back up? I hain't see you."
"He didn't see me," said Caldwell's demon, between sips from the stirrer/straw she was using to steal some of the old man's coffee. The old man reached for the cardboard cup without looking, and the little demon put it in his liver-spotted arthritis-wracked left hand. The ring finger ended at the first joint.
Caldwell explained to the old man: "Heather says that when the spaceship went behind Mars we couldn't hear from it any more. The man's voice was a recording. It was Captain Kazami, and he was speaking Japanese. Kazami is the commander, and he got to pick the name of the spaceship. Kasei means 'Mars' in Japanese. That's how those big characters are sounded. The one on the top is 'fire' and the one on the bottom is 'star'."
"What about the gal with the short skirt and the long legs and that bow-and-arrow made out of fire?" asked the old man.
"I don't know," said Caldwell. "Maybe a Disney character? Heather isn't saying anything about that. Anyone know who the girl on the mission patch is?"
"I do! I do!" The demon was in a school uniform now, sitting at an invisible desk, holding up one arm and bracing it with her other.
"Anyone? Anyone?" repeated Caldwell Young.
Sawamura Midori was at home when the strange woman rang the doorbell. Midori already had company: Takei Midori, an older mother who was also a patient of Dr. Yahagi, the most highly regarded obstetrician practicing in Japan, at least in the opinion of the younger Midori's mother. Dr Yahagi had also delivered the younger Midori, and so far he had delivered four of her children. Dr. Yahagi would have delivered two more as well if Miika and Miina hadn't been fated to be born in Tokyo Disneyland instead of Dr. Yahagi's hospital. Like most other people in Japan as morning became afternoon who didn't have pressing work that demanded complete attention, these two Midoris watched or listened or surfed the web to find out what had happened to Kasei, the first manned spacecraft to reach Mars, commanded by a man of Japan, Kazami Yamato. People around the world were doing the same thing, particularly in China, Russia, India, France, the United States of America, Germany, and Iceland, most particularly among the families of the other astronauts and cosmonauts of Kasei.
Sawamura Midori found the woman talking with Miika and Miika, her oldest children, third-graders now, and to Miho, in first grade, and Miyo, in kindergarten. They all went to the same school, in easy walking distance from their home even for little legs. Preschooler Miyu, home because of some tummy trouble in the early morning, was already at the door, waiting for her mother to open it. Mie was crawling toward it; she could still crawl faster than she could walk. There was another little girl with the woman, who was albino. "I am Sawamura Midori. Did you bring my daughters home from school?" They were home early.
"No. All these girls are your daughters?" said the strange foreign woman not only in Japanese, but in the dialect peculiar to descendents of Satsuma samurai who had moved to the new Imperial capital during the Meiji Restoration, providing officers for the new Imperial Navy, administrators for the Naval Ministry, managers and mid-level executives for new industries to build and support the Navy, and teachers for children who would follow the others as generation succeeded generation. The Imperial Navy was no more, but families who had been its vital organs carried on, many in prosperity if not quite enough wealth to be toadied to from the instant they were correctly identified. One of those families used the name "Kasugano" and two Kasuganos, fourth cousins, had married, prospered, bought a large house in a nice neighborhood close by one of the exclusive neighborhoods. They had only one child, a girl. And while that girl had married a man with no more pedigree than a puppy found in a cardboard box, she had popped out six daughters so far, filling the large house with so much love and promise for the future and noise in the present that the adoring grandparents had taken an apartment, within walking distance, but beyond shouting distance. One of the maids was still living at the house, but she was visiting her sister in Hawaii.
"Yes," said Sawamura Midori, once Kasugano Midori, going on to introduce each of her six girls.
The stranger said, "This is Hiyo, my only daughter so far. I see you do not remember me. I was at your husband's police station when you visited. My name is Mara. May I come in?"
"Yes, of course you may," said Midori.
The elder Midori had not left her seat. She was still nursing her infant. While Takei Midori did not rise for the new guest, she did bow her head as she introduced herself. "Forgive me, but I can't remember where I have seen you before. I am sure I have."
"I am older than I look, or so I have been told," said Mara, taking the seat offered by the younger Midori. "Would you be perhaps related to Takei Toshihito?"
"Yes, by marriage," said the elder Midori.
"I have heard a rumor that Toshihito-san is married," said Mara.
"I've heard that rumor too," said Toshihito-san's wife.
"It can't be true," said Mara. "Hosts are never married. Is your baby a boy or a girl?"
The elder Midori said, "A boy. His name is Toshihiro."
"Is he your first child?" asked Mara.
"My second. My daughter Sayuka is in middle school now. May I presume on Sawamura-san and ask why you are here?" asked Takei Midori.
The demon said, "I have business with Seiji-san which would be better done here than in Kabukichō."
"You know my husband?" asked the younger Midori.
"Not in the way you might be thinking," said Mara. "Does Seiji-san want to have a son to go along with his daughters?"
Sawamura Midori blushed very deeply.
Takei Midori said, "You are not Japanese, are you?"
"No," answered Mara.
Takei Midori said, "Then you did not learn when you were a child that it is not polite to use personal names of people who are not in your own family."
"If I did not call him 'Seiji-san' how would you know I did not mean Midori, or Miika, or Miina, or Miyo, or Miho, or Miyu, or Mie instead? Or perhaps Sawamura Rin?" said Mara.
Takei Midori asked herself "How does this woman know about Seiji's sister?" but she did not ask the woman aloud.
Sawamura Midori preempted her elder namesake by asking, "Is 'Mara' your family name? Or is it your personal name?"
Mara answered in English: "It is different among those of my ilk," said Mara. "As Sukurudo-san is Skuld Torsdottir, so I am Mara Lokisdottir. But please call me 'Mara.' In fact, I insist."
"Mara-san," said Sawamura Midori. "I mean—"
"That will do," said Mara, laying a gentle hand on Sawamura Midori's slightly trembling shoulder.
Takei Midori could read most English, and speak it well enough to give tourists directions, but she did not understand half of what Mara had said. The woman knew Sukurudo-san or knew who she was; that was it for the content. The subtext was quite clear to the elder Midori: the strange foreign woman had just frightened her friend.
Little Mara, Caldwell Young's familiar demon, had vanished sometime during his long conversation with the lonely old man he'd met in McDonalds, and now he found himself wishing she would manifest again, because she might tell him something new about the police detective beginning to interrogate him. "Only a few questions," but he was alone with the detective, and he suspected that each of the three other missionaries the police had picked up with him were also alone, so they could not share stories.
The detective began by saying, "Death seems to follow you, Young-san. First one of your priests dies, and then a young man who slept in a bed next to your own. And this morning, you passed by a crime scene and sent a text message to the father of the victim."
"How did you—" Caldwell Young began to say. "You know from phone records."
"So, you texted Yamada-sama using your cellphone. Do you remember what you wrote?"
"I asked if I could help. He thanked me for my offer."
"And?"
"Nothing else," said Caldwell Young.
"And how do you know Yamada-sama?" asked Detective Lieutenant Arima.
"The woman I am going to marry works for him," said Caldwell Young.
"What is her name?" asked the Lieutenant.
"Heather Saotome."
"The reporter?" asked the Lieutenant.
"Yes."
"I meant her real name, not her performing name," said Lieutenant Arima.
"Her real name is Heather Maria Saotome. She is an American citizen, born in Seattle."
"She does not have a Japanese name?" asked Arima.
"Like a Hebrew name?" asked Caldwell Young.
"Hebrew name? What do you mean?" asked Lieutenant Arima.
Caldwell Young explained, "Jews have Hebrew names—religious names. Sometimes they don't know them. Many Jews never practice their religion. But if they have parents or grandparents who do keep the ways of their faith, they will give their children or grandchildren names in Hebrew that they may use if they ever return to their faith. It is something like when a Buddhist monk or priest takes a new name—or a death name? Do I have that right?"
Arima said, "Some of our people give new names to family members who have died. You are more familiar with our culture than most foreign people I have met, especially Americans."
"Thank you," said Caldwell Young. "We can hardly hope to win people to our faith if we know nothing of what you believe."
Arima said, "Well put. Many Americans seem to think that what people who are not Americans feel and believe does not matter."
"The same thing has been said of the people of Japan," said Caldwell Young. "And of China, of England, of Russia, of Germany, and so on."
"Hai," which might or might not mean the Detective Lieutenant agreed. "Yamada-sama has many, many people working for his companies. Even many reporters. How is it that he would know this reporter well enough to know you through her?"
Caldwell Young thought before he responded. "Saotome-san is not a mistress of Yamada-sama. But she has been given the use of a large apartment owned by one of Yamada-sama's companies by the head of TBK."
"Can you explain this generosity?" asked the detective.
Caldwell Young said, "Gorō-san has romantic feelings toward Saotome-san. She has never slept with him, however."
"Is that what Saotome-san told you?" asked the the detective.
"Yes, and I believe her," said Caldwell Young. "Gorō-san may join my church. He has attended services Saotome-san has not."
"So...where did you first meet Yamada-sama?" asked the detective.
"At the large apartment," said Caldwell Young. He was certain Lieutenant Arima already knew the answers to many of the questions.
His watch and phone had been taken, and there was no clock in the room. There was no window—except for the "mirror" on one wall. It was on the large side for any Japanese room, large enough to feel the emptiness that should be filled by something. The table was narrow, so narrow that the detective sitting opposite had to place his chair to one side in order to have room for his legs. He could not have sat at normal distance from the table facing Caldwell; their knees would have bumped, or they would have touched below the table in inappropriate, disturbing ways.
"Was Nakajima-san with Yamada-sama when you first met?" asked the lieutenant, looking down into a folder with one side up—the side closer to Caldwell Young, so he could not possibly read what was inside the folder.
Takei Toshihito normally worked at one of the three Host clubs he owned wholly or in part for a few hours on school nights unless he was holding an evening exercise at the school. If it was the one in Roppongi or the one in the Ginza, he would go home first, have supper, and then go on to the club. If it was the one in Kabukichō, he went to the club directly from the school, a walk of only a few blocks. On Kasei day, as it would be marked each year in Japan hence, he went to his club in Kabukichō. By the time he arrived, he had almost decided what to do. Miyazaki Issei, acting as the Host in charge, was from the very first class to complete the Host program at Mizushō. Miyazaki bowed and said, "I apologize for the lack of customers, Takei-sensei. We have been cautioned by the police several times not to attempt catches today."
"There are no catches to make," said Takei. "I did not see any woman who was not with a man, or was a foreigner, or was in the doorway of a Hostess club or a fūzoku shop looking for a customer. Are there any women in the ladies room?"
"No. All are here."
All the women in the club were at the largest table, which was shaped like the letter "C", the missing arc allowing for a few chairs in the center, or free access for waiters, or a venue for performance: a song, or a story, or jokes. Or just a good place to speak to all the people seated around the outer edge of the largest table in the club. There were five women, and two hosts, and one empty chair that Miyazaki stood behind as Takei took the center. "All you ladies are Mizushō alumni, so all of you know my secret. I'm closing the club for tonight, at least for any more customers. You are welcome to stay until midnight, as always, but I would appreciate it if you either go home now, or come with me to my home. I'm going to the office now. I think I will need about twenty minutes to finish things. And one more thing: each of you may have one food item and one beverage from the Host's menu free of charge."
"Does that invitation go for us too?" asked Sadakawa, the only host who had not been in Takei's program at Mizushō.
"The menu, yes. Coming to my home..." he hesitated. "My home is not as large as this club. But any of you ladies who chooses to come with me tonight may bring along one, and only one, host."
"Auction! Auction!" called out the woman who was closest to being drunk. The one who was furthest was the only Hostess; her friends were all fūzokujō, sex workers.
As he left the revelers and started toward the tiny, hard-to-find office, he switched altogether from his Host persona to his real self. "No one is going anywhere until this place is ready to open for business tomorrow!" Once inside the office, he used the office phone to call his wife. Cell reception in his club was very poor; a feature, not a defect.
Two minutes later Takei emerged from his office. The hosts, even Miyazaki-san, were all either beginning to clean up the club, or were serving the women. "Plans have changed," he called out, and when everyone stopped what they were doing and turned toward Takei he went on: "All of you, we're going to surprise a friend of my wife! Her friend lives in a big house! Room for everyone! Grab your coats! We're leaving now!"
Everyone else cheered, but the Hostess did not put her heart into it. She detected that Takei-sensei's cheerfulness was acting—very good acting, but acting. Miyazaki also knew that his sensei had just put on a performance, but did not suspect it covered up anything more than a mild scolding from his wife. Miyazaki was the only one present who not only knew of Takei Midori but knew her, as a friend. Miyazaki's guess was that Midori had given her husband an earful for qualifying his invitation. Although Midori had never said it in so many words to Miyazaki Issei, he knew Midori wanted her husband to stop being a Host as well as a teacher and employer of Hosts. Sakuya's feelings about this were explicit and unsurprising to everyone around Takei Toshihito except Toshihito himself, and while the reason for Sakuya's undiplomatic directness was something the sixth-grader was still concealing from her father and believing that she was concealing it from her mother, Miyazaki Issei had inferred it correctly. Takei Sakuya had acquired her first serious boyfriend. Beyond that was speculation. Miyazaki Issei was a superb host because he really wanted to make women happy, but not really outstanding at anything else. He had no talent at all for fortune telling.
The Kreisler family was aware of the unfolding tragedy of Kasei, and sympathetic, but not very interested. None of them had ever been Star Trek or Star Wars fans. Frederick Kriesler had never built a model airplane, or wanted to. He'd only made three journeys by air in his entire life. His father Gunnar had just made his first. Gunnar and his wife Alison agreed that nearly all money spent on space was wasted, and even harmful. Satellites for weather and communications were worthwhile, but even they were a mixed blessing, because they had brought indecency and godless science to every part of the world through television and the internet. Reading the Creation from "Genesis" from above the moon's surface did not make up for "proof" that the Creation was only a well-written story, God could not possibly have created the universe as it is no more than ten thousand years ago, even if He had said so. No, it was four, or five, or ten, or fifteen billion—the rocks from the moon "proved" it.
Kathy and Frederick, being of two later generations, had more evolved views. Neither one thought that however long Earth had abided or if humans and monkeys were in the same family tree proved or disproved the existence of God. Neither believed that The Church's scriptures had all come from the hand of the Almighty, forever unchanged, unchanging, unchangeable. Neither one of them had the tiniest intention of leaving The Church. Maybe some things encompassed by The Church were hard to swallow; maybe some things really needed to be changed, someday. Already some quite large things had been changed inside The Church, and except for a few thousand dissenters attempting to "restore" The Church as they saw it, The Church was as strongly united as when it had been driven from place to place to place by force of arms, and built a new Zion out of a wilderness as unyielding and unforgiving as the first Zion's or the later Zion resurrected on the bones of the first.
There was an early evening prayer service for the crew of the lost spaceship. It had a large attendance, including many people who had never come to the mission center before. Some were Americans, mostly tourists but including some living and working in Tokyo. For Kathy Kreisler, the most important thing about this service was that it kept her mother-in-law and her father-in-law away from opportunities to ask questions that might lead them to discover or infer how she really felt about Caldwell Young. They had to know, or at least the mother had to know how Freddie had plowed between the thighs of so many of his female students. Any man in The Church who had not married by the end of his twenties was a glaring exception, or in the Japanese way of putting it, a nail sticking out, begging to be pounded down. With no real deep dark secrets about Freddie left to unearth, that left only Kathy for his parents to excavate.
Thanks to the disappearance of Kasei, the worst question Kathy had fielded by 9:00 PM was "When do you think Conner will get a brother or a sister?" Kathy avoided blurting out her most heartfelt hope: Never, unless Freddie died so she could marry Cal. As the prayer service broke up, she checked her cell. There were no voicemails, no text messages. Now she was sure that asking Cal to stay over with that old reporter woman had been overkill; his parents were clearly tired. In fact, Kathy Kriesler felt confident enough to ask, "Would you like me to call a cab for you? It can take awhile to get one here. None of the drivers seems to know how to find our Temple here." The mission center was a detached annex to the Temple. As she had expected, Freddie showed a mix of guilt and relief. Maybe his mother never would let him know that she knew. And just maybe his dad, too.
"Maybe we should be going, Honey" tumbled golden sweet from her mother-in-law's lips. Tomorrow they'd be on the Shikansen for Kyoto, with Freddie—but Conner would be sick, so Kathy would have to stay behind. Was Cal coming back, or staying with...
"I can't get a good signal here," Kathy lied. "I'll go out—"
Her cell rang. Her father-in-law was in the middle of another eye-squeezing yawn, but Freddie's mom's eyes flashed. Trying to explain the lie away would only make it worse. Kathy answered her phone. "Moshi moshi," she said, hoping it was a wrong number.
"Kreisler-san," came the response. It was Braxton's prostitute wife. "Has Braxton-san returned to your mission center?"
"I don't think so. I'll check for you if you want, but he's usually not back until after midnight. He shouldn't be far away from your school—are you there? And why are you calling me? He has a cell. All our people working the streets have cells."
"You do not know about the police?" asked Braxton's wife.
"Police?" asked Kathy.
"The police took him away along with Young-san and the two others who came with him this morning."
Kathy exclaimed, "They actually arrested them? Just because the ones tagging along with Cal didn't have their permits yet?"
Braxton's wife said, "There was a murder. The police have taken away others. Are you certain the police have not called your center about this?"
"Wait...I'll call you back." Kathy turned off her phone and barked: "Freddie! Give me your phone!"
"It's in the office. I'll go—"
"Jesus H Christ!" said Kathy Kreisler, storming off to the mission office, where she found on the putative Mission President's cellphone dozens of missed calls and text messages from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. And, of course, dozens of emails she hadn't thought of checking since Freddie's parents had showed up.
Arima Yukino was allowed to look through the one-way mirror briefly because she was Lieutenant Arima's wife, and also because the current Chief of Detectives agreed with former chief Kotobuki that as a plastic surgeon she just might notice something worthwhile. She could see the swarthy gaijin talking, answering her husband's questions, but the speaker was switched off, so she could hear nothing of what was said in the interrogation room. "It's consistent with frostbite," she said of Henry Stewart's face.
"What about the technique? Is it really American?" asked the current chief.
Yukino said, "I don't see anything that tells me it isn't. The reason his nose still needs more work is that his forehead has so much damage. The usual technique to replace a nose is to put skin expanders in the forehead until there is enough extra skin to cut loose like this." She traced out the incision lines on her own forehead. "The flap is left attached here. After a half-twist, you bend it into a nose shape and suture it to the cheeks, leaving openings for the nostrils. The expanders will have forced enough extra skin to grow so that it it can be pulled together to cover the new wound in the forehead. But so much of the forehead is scar tissue. I wouldn't have done it at all. I think a prosthetic nose would have been a better solution. Certainly cheaper, and it could hardly have looked worse. Poor man. What is the crime?"
"He may be involved in a murder," said the current chief.
Yukino said, "Because of the hooks? They would come loose with the first blow. And he couldn't grip a knife or a gun well enough to use them unless the victim was helpless. I've never seen a powered prosthetic with the strength of an ordinary human hand that doesn't need machinery many times larger than any human arm. In the future, yes, but I've never seen a real time machine, either. Is the victim a foreigner too?"
"Maybe your husband will tell you," said former chief Kotobuki, closing the blinds, which automatically brought up the room lights. "We want to be as sure as we can this man is who he is supposed to be. He may not be able to harm anyone, but he would be able to attract the attention of others away from the actual assassin, as a co-conspirator, a dupe, or just by being on the scene by chance. Arima-sensei, many years ago I saw an ear growing on a mouse. Couldn't a replacement nose be grown the same way?"
Dr. Arima said, "Some have. There were still tissue rejection problems. Someday we will be able to grow perfect body parts, including organs. But it looks now that the only ways to do it will begin from using stem cells from fetal tissue. Perhaps we shouldn't learn to do it. But of course, we will...did you ever wonder what our world would be like if we all lived forever?"
"Everyone wishes it were that way," said Kotobuki.
"Not everyone," snapped Arima Yukino. "There would be no room for children in such a world. Are we finished here?"
"Yes," said the current Chief of Detectives. When the doctor was gone, he asked, "Why did she get so angry?"
"Her daughter is in labor," said the former Chief of Detectives.
Absorbing that, the current chief of detectives thought for a few moments, and then pressed the button to signal the interrogator that he was wanted outside. Once the interrogator was before him, the chief said, "Arima-san, that's enough. You've been on duty for almost 50 hours. You are off-duty now, and you will not return for duty for the next 24 hours—no, make that the next 36 hours. You seem to be under the delusion that you are indispensable here. I have many other detectives, even some other Detective Lieutenants—even Captains. And from here on, if you ever are on duty for more than 24 hours, you will write a full report explaining why, and expect to explain again to myself, and quite possibly to the Chief of the Force. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Chief."
"Good. Get out of here." Once Arima was gone, and the Chief was sure he was really gone, and that he was alone with Kotobuki, he sighed, and said to himself, "Now what am I going to do without Arima-san?"
"You still have me, if you—"
"You get out of here, too," insisted the current Chief of Detectives.
"Not until you release the American missionaries. It was foolish to bring them in at all. We may have avoided trouble with the United States because of the Martian tragedy, but we can't be sure for a long time. Things like this can bring trouble months or years later."
"Are you telling me that if I didn't bring in the missionaries that I might keep this job until I retire? Like you did, Taizō?"
"No. Tarō. You will lose your job because of this no matter what. At least one of the eight million gods of Japan was not watching over you this morning. I know that all of them were guarding me every day I was on the Force. You should have known this already, Yamada-san, as well as you know your own name."
"Yes, the same name as Yamada-sama," said that one of the thousands of Yamada Tarōs then living in Japan.
Sawamura Seiji was standing in the street, smoking, something he'd done only a few times since he found his Midori was...
The missionaries had been released; Seiji saw the three red-haired men and the Native American—thanks to Midori and her mother, Seiji had learned about these "Indians" of America, and even came to know one of them, an old shaman—before the shaman died. Sawamura extinguished his cigarette by pinching off the lit end and rubbing out the embers where they fell. He stuffed the rest into a pocket, not because he was saving it but because Midori had made him into a man that never littered—which was also a good behavior for a police officer. He'd never compromised a crime scene.
Sakuma-san was with them. When had she come? She must have been waiting...how had Sawamura missed seeing her?
Young-san recognized Sawamura before Sawamura spoke. "Officer Sawamura," he said. "Your day was even longer than ours?"
"Behave as if we are shaking hands," said Sawamura before passing the cell to Caldwell Young. "There are cameras here, too. I will tell you when there are none."
Even Joe Hill inferred that he should follow Young's lead. And so they spoke of nothing consequential until Sawamura Seiji had found a malodorous gap between run-down buildings that was somehow near the Shinjuku Station complex. "That place is a pink salon, and this place is a cheap soapland. Places like this spring up around all the main stations. They go in and out of business quickly. And they find ways to counter the police cameras; they have to to stay in business at all. Quite a lot of them have their own cameras so they can blackmail customers."
"What did he say?" asked Joe Hill.
"I'll explain it later," said Henry Stewart. "Please go on."
"I concealed Young-san's phone, the one he uses to talk to Saotome-san. I have not checked it. Just getting it from my uniform into my street clothes was a risk. You all have phones given to you by your priest?"
"From the mission center," said Young. "Two, one for each two-man team."
"Smash them, now. They will have tracers, and probably the ability to record sound even when you have switched them off. Sakuma-san, did you spend time inside the police station?"
"Yes," said the girl, cursed with the face of her father, but blessed with grace and every virtue that mattered.
"And they asked to keep your phone until you left? Of course they did. Destroy it," ordered Sawamura.
"Are we really suspects?" asked Caldwell Young.
Sawamura said, "You are gaijin, and you have connections to Yamada-sama, and to the oyabun. You are missionaries. Midori's mother has told me that your religion has many enemies in your own country. You do have a friend in our new Prime Minister, but our Prime Ministers don't have the kind of power your Presidents have. You should go back to America now. Did they give you back your passports when they let you go?"
Caldwell Young said, "Our passports are kept by the Mission President. It is this way in every mission."
"Are you telling us that we could be framed?" asked Zeke Braxton, using the American English colloquialism.
"He means 'convicted using false evidence,'" said Caldwell Young. "That seems...fantastic."
"The world is stranger than you think it is," said Sawamura. "I have seen things...I could be wrong. But what if I am not wrong? Go, now, because you may not be able to go soon. I saw...I saw..."
Braxton's secret wife spoke up. "Did you see the shinigami?"
At the instant Braxton's Miyuki said "shinigami" Caldwell Young's familiar demon reappeared. Ignoring the little Mara, Caldwell explained in English, "A shinigami is a death god, something like a Japanese valkyrie."
"Not 'something like,'" corrected Mara's small avatar. "She is the valkyrie Gudr, and her scythe was made by Skuld herself."
"Jesus save us! Stan wasn't crazy!" cried Joe Hill.
"She is yours," said Henry Stewart. "Your familiar demon. She belongs to you, doesn't she?"
"I belong to myself, Yawner's spawn," snapped the little Mara. "Young-san doesn't know a single spell. He hasn't even asked to learn any."
"You said 'Skuld'," said Miyuki Braxton. "Our Skuld?"
"Yes," said Mara. "Sukurudo, Seiji-kun. REALLY." The last word echoed within Caldwell Young, the same impossible chorus—and within his policeman friend, he was sure. Mara returned to human speech. "I can't tell you all of what was said."
"Skuld and the oyabun spoke," said Sawamura.
"Yes. This I can tell you: Lord Matsuura asked for Skuld to let her die. Now, all of you, shut up and just listen. None of you has the right education for this, so I'll try to give you enough, for now. Let's begin with a bit from the Prose Edda. It goes like this: These are called Valkyrs: them Odin sends to every battle; they determine men's feyness and award victory. Gudr and Róta and the youngest Norn, she who is called Skuld, ride ever to take the slain and decide fights. We can continue the lesson on the train, if we catch the last one."
Notes
It is widely believed that any child born in a Disney park will get a free pass for life. It's not true. Disney corporation really does worry that women will try to give birth in one of their theme parks. It's a bad idea, both for Disney Corporation who could get sued big-time and lose, and for babies and moms who could die because of an urban legend.
"Yamada Tarō" (山田太郎 ) is a stereotypical name for a man in Japan. It is filled in on some sample forms, much as "John Doe" in the United States. The Japanese counterpart to "Jane Doe" is "Yamada Hanako" (山田花子).
Eight Million Gods of Japan. A conventional expression, which I hope is genuine. I "borrowed" it from James Michener.