Salva Nos
Episode 20: Room 101
by - Ajora Fravashi
Warning: Kurata is a terrible man who has had twenty-five years to stew in hatred. He will do terrible things. Though some of these things do not happen in the text, the following things are mentioned: stalking, rape, genocide, torture, murder, forced drugging, and medical abuse. I'm just bringing this up in case you may be triggered by a mention of any of this.
What has gone before: In the effort to consolidate their forces and build a new country, several local powers banded together with Iwakuni. The gathering was attacked and some of its leaders captured. Things are bleak, and Jianliang is forced to do the unthinkable.
"You asked me once," said O'Brien, "what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world." — Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell
Jianliang had no way to be sure of what was happening in Kyoto; he only knew that the strike confirmed a suspicion of his. Kurata was tired of waiting for Osamu to open up and urged the Prime Minister to act. He could hope all he liked that Ken might have escaped, but given the firepower behind Amaterasu, he knew better. It was time for the white queen to march. He excused himself from the team when they landed in the Chubu Centrair International Airport to refuel after a fruitless search along the major highways leading out of Kyoto, found an abandoned building, and pulled out his D-Arc. Though Yamaki had replaced his satellite phone, the D-Arc was his only truly secure way to contact Ryo. He'd written the communication program years ago, installed it in their D-Arcs, and had never planned to use it because it relied on a connection with the Digital World. With the Digital World as damaged as it was supposed to be, he didn't think using it to relay messages was the most appropriate option.
"Lachesis," he whispered into the D-Arc once it connected. It was unwise to use their real names, even in private. "I can't contact Atropos from here. Initializing Wayland's revenge."
The other end was quiet for the moment. "Understood. Have your shield?"
"Looking for it. There's…" He didn't know how to explain it. He had learned about Nanami's missive and that Takeru would likely have been assigned to follow it due to his ridiculous quest. Daisuke was more of a wild card. He likely may have gone with Takeru, or have been roped into assisting with setting up the meeting at Kyoto. Either way, though, Jianliang didn't think he'd stick around Kyoto for long with Takeru running head-first into danger. "There's something of a wild card." He then took the time to explain.
"God's good at sensing other digimon, especially when there aren't that many around. If Daisuke took V-mon, then there's a good chance that we'll find them. Any chance of picking me up? I'm at the Atsuta Shrine in Nagoya. Found the second thing, but I think I'll leave it there for the time being. It's too conspicuous to carry around."
"We'll swing by. Find yourself a roof and be prepared for a rope ladder. Time is too critical to spend on landing."
"Sure. See you soon."
He returned to the helicopter once they broke the connection, and it lifted off. The helicopter veered northwards upon his command, and Jianliang spent his time again considering his options. There were none that he could see, or he'd leave off Wayland's revenge entirely. In the event that Ken was ever captured, the white queen would have to march to save him, because Jianliang and his cohorts knew that Osamu would finally cave to the pressure put upon him by Kurata. Besides the obvious reasoning of wanting to quash the opposition, Jianliang knew that the entire point of attacking the assembly was to capture Ken and use him as leverage against Osamu and force his compliance. He had done everything he could to prevent it, but in the end it didn't matter. Wayland's revenge would fall upon Koshikidake like an act of an angry god, and their souls would be forfeit.
The helicopter picked up Ryo, who'd found a fifth floor roof across the street from the collection of shrines that housed one of the three Imperial regalia of Japan, and they were off again the moment he'd grabbed onto the ladder. Ryo soon joined him in the cabin and buckled into a spare seat. He was going incognito, which meant that his normally spiky hair was forced down and grown out, and he'd grown a beard in the weeks he'd been to ground. Rare patches of black were interspersed in the brown of the beard and were more visible with his hair down, which Ryo had claimed was attributed to chimerism.
"Prepared for the consequences," Ryo finally asked, his voice difficult to make out under the noise of the helicopter blades. It kept them from being heard by the pilots. "Wayland's revenge was meant to be a last-ditch effort."
"What choice do I have," he asked in turn. "The Prime Minister authorized a strike on the Kyoto assembly, and it will be successful. If they succeed in their objective, we both know what will happen."
A grim look crossed Ryo's face, one that was made more severe by the shaggy hair and beard. He had no answer, as there was none to give. Instead, they watched the countryside roll by far below them as the helicopter joined one of several that Jianliang had enlisted to search for something he still wasn't sure was out there. How much of a head start Daisuke had would depend on when he left, if he did. Would he have enough gas cans to refuel, or would he have to abandon the trip and walk the rest of the way? There were too many unknown variables, which he hated. It wasn't helping that Ryo had decided to drift off and was apparently napping.
Sometime later, perhaps half an hour into Ryo's nap, a shadow seemed to pass over the cabin and disappeared when Ryo jerked awake. He blinked rapidly before focusing on Jianliang. "He's on the Tomei Expressway going into Tokyo. He'll probably be heading to Sendai, so we can catch him on the way there."
"How did you find him?"
"God showed me the way," Ryo said with a mysterious smile, then leaned back into his seat. Then, despite the occasional turbulence or the noise of the helicopter blades, he promptly slipped back into sleep.
.*.
Daisuke silently swore to himself as the rover reminded him that it was time to refuel. He'd refueled at the Iwakuni tanker and topped off the gas cans in the back before leaving, but he was sure that it wouldn't be enough to make it there and back. V-mon was looking antsy, and had been since a strange shadow fell over them on the way through Tokyo. His partner hadn't been able to explain why it had freaked him out, only that it was somehow familiar and that they should run before it found them again.
Unfortunately, running wasn't going to work if the fuel ran out on them. Daisuke grumbled and slowed to a stop on the Joban Expressway somewhere between the suburbs of Mito and Naka, and got out to refuel while he still could. He could smell the silt of the Naka River wafting in the breeze, which meant that he was fairly close to the bridge crossing it. The fields surrounding the expressway were overgrown, had been for fifteen years, and trees vied with shrubs and grasses for land. The farmland that remained developed must be closer to the shore, largely because it was easier to sail a boat with goods to another port than to rely on horses to drag along wagons for miles.
Someone was walking towards him from the bridge. He was taller than Daisuke, and his face newly shaven and blue eyes bright with a glint of madness. His hair looked freshly cut, if perhaps not as spiky as it had been. Instead of the Ainu attire, he wore some army uniform that fit him way better than scavenged clothes ought to. There was no insignia by which Daisuke could identify him, nor any other sign of identity. Even the name tag was blank. The one oddity was a coiled leather whip at the man's belt. Daisuke knew well enough to be wary, even when a broad grin spread across V-mon's face.
"Ryo! Where've you been? I've missed you," V-mon exclaimed. He scrambled out of the rover, to Daisuke's surprise, and started trotting up to the Wanderer. Daisuke couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous by his partner's joy, which was completely irrational. Then something stopped V-mon halfway, as if he was suddenly unsure about what Daisuke assumed would be a tackling hug.
"I've been busy," Ryo said, and the warm smile on his face was something Daisuke hadn't seen in his past few encounters with him. "I see you're with your real partner now. I'm with mine, too."
V-mon stepped back like he was afraid, which set off Daisuke's sense of danger and he looked around for whatever was freaking V-mon out. There was nothing but the lengthening shadows of the evening. "I thought I felt him near…"
"Don't worry, he's harmless for now," Ryo drew closer to reassure V-mon, and memories seemed to click together inside Daisuke. The Wanderer, Ryo, had always been going on about God talking to him. Maybe he had a digimon inside him like Junpei and Chiaki did, one that V-mon had previous experience with. It would explain how the Wanderer could disappear without a trace. "Too much of his power was reallocated to… other uses. Besides, now he has me to keep him in check."
V-mon shook his head, and Daisuke stepped forth in support. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn't like this a bit. "Don't you usually have more important things to be confusing us with?"
Ryo looked up to meet Daisuke's eyes, and he could see now what was freaking out V-mon. There was something dark and malignant inside him. Himself or the digimon; Daisuke couldn't tell. "Well, yes. Let yourself be captured, it'll be easier on all of us. Running will only make your chances of getting killed that much higher."
What the hell? He could hear it now, the steady thrumming of helicopter blades. He grabbed V-mon and turned to dive into the scrubland. His feet were ready to pound pavement and he was fully prepared to blunder through the spindly branches of young trees to escape. But then he heard a loud crack, and something struck his shin and inertia wrapped it around his leg tight enough for a hard yank backwards to pull his leg out from under him and he fell hard into the grass. He tried getting up, but the whip drew taut with each attempt.
"You're no use to anyone dead, Motomiya. V-mon, freeze." Ryo's military boots crunched in the gravel of the road shoulder as he approached them, and the whip slackened with each step. "I'm trying to keep you two alive."
Personally, Daisuke would rather do that himself. His fingers dug into the dirt as he tried to palm as much of it as he could in the intent to throw it in the Wanderer's face and run. Then there was another pair of feet, followed by others marching with military precision. The military boots sounded like they were surrounding them, and Daisuke grunted in disgust and lifted his hands in surrender. He'd go along, for now.
"Let him go," another voice said. Jianliang. Daisuke swore under his breath; he knew something had been off about Jianliang, even when he hoped that there was some answer to allay their suspicions about his loyalty. There was some motion along the whip's tail and it loosened enough to let Ryo draw it back into its coil and free Daisuke. He grumbled as he got back to his feet and dusted himself off. Jianliang gave him an examining look. "Will I have to cuff you, or will you listen to us?"
"I'll listen," he muttered dourly. Jianliang waved at the circle of soldiers and asked for privacy, and they dispersed. When he was sure it was just the four of them, Daisuke hissed; "What the hell is going on? You're working for Amaterasu, aren't you?"
Jianliang's eyes darted to Ryo, who simply nodded, and then Jianliang chose to actually clear things up. For once. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Ryo and I work for Atropos. Osamu. We relay some information to Amaterasu. Enough to keep them complacent, not enough to seriously compromise Iwakuni."
Daisuke was torn between confusion and annoyance, which was his usual response to overly complicated intrigue that he had no business in. Poor V-mon just looked hopelessly confused and had opted to remain quiet until they had more to work with. "Wait, isn't Osamu supposed to be dead or something?"
"Missing, actually," Ryo responded. "Ken jumped to the conclusion that he was dead on the assumption that Osamu would be in a situation that he'd be able to return to Iwakuni. The lie of omission served well enough to keep Ken from looking for him, thus keeping Ken safe."
Jianliang added, as if they had rehearsed this; "With Ken safe and out of enemy hands, Amaterasu cannot force Osamu to comply with their demands."
"Wait," Daisuke interrupted, because he was still having a hard time piecing things together, "but if they want Ken, why would they shoot him?"
"Different faction, different desires." Ryo's voice was patient, even as Jianliang started looking frustrated with him. "Amaterasu wants Ken to use as leverage to force Osamu to work with them, the Empire of the Sun — a splinter group — wants to remove Ken so that Osamu can't be forced to work with Amaterasu. Osamu has knowledge that Amaterasu has tried for years to pry out of him. Once they get their hands on Ken…"
"We can go over this in full in a more private setting." Jianliang then turned his attention wholly to Daisuke, and he'd never looked so serious. "Amaterasu will have struck the Kyoto convention by now, and they will be successful in extracting Ken. We need you to help us back into Iwakuni to rescue him, Takeru, and whoever else might be considered an important political prisoner. Will you help us?"
Daisuke's eyes darted between them, and then to V-mon, who only shrugged helplessly. He shouldn't trust them as far as he could throw them, but he had to do something. "Okay, fine. But no funny business."
Ryo looked relieved and smiled at him, and Jianliang continued. "Good. We'll overnight at Atata Island, and then return to Iwakuni by boat. I'll have one of the soldiers drive the rover somewhere out of sight."
He nodded; he still didn't like how much was still in the dark, but knowing something of what was going on helped, a bit. It still made him uneasy. What, exactly, weren't they telling him?
.*.
The night had been awful, not the least because these cells had been designed to hold one person apiece, and the exposed toilet and sink left no illusions of privacy. Having to share the cell meant that Ruki and Rei had to take turns on the thin mattress. Presumably Takeru and Ken were doing the same. At one point, she suggested to Takeru to steal the pillow to sit upon like she did and lean against the wall that separated them to talk. Which they did, for a while, and then eventually drifted off.
Ruki was woken about the same time every one else was, with a guard leaving trays with bowls of rice and cups of cold tea at the bars of the cells. A bland breakfast, but better than nothing. She tucked in the best she could with the minimum amount of finger usage possible, wishing a thousand times that she had some sort of utensil. They were all quiet, and there was the elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.
"After they interrogate us, they'll probably torture us for further information," she started nonchalantly, though she could see Rei blanching out of the corner of her eye. "With any luck, it won't be a professional. If we're very lucky it'll be someone who doesn't enjoy it. The ones that don't like it are the best, you can usually play up the screaming and they'll stop long enough for you to recover. They'll stop once you give them any information. The ones who like it are the worst. Give them what you know, and quickly, because it deprives them of the chance to try to break you. And you will break."
Ken's voice cracked, weakly. "Speaking from experience?"
"On the receiving end, anyway." She shrugged, though she knew the boys couldn't see her. "Never was one to do it to anyone. I'd joined a couple of Clans before raising Osaba, and rising through the ranks can come at a cost. It's not exactly summer camp if a rival Clan catches you and thinks you're important."
The boys went quiet, which left her with Rei. Ruki's grandmother had always been a theater buff, which usually meant that Ruki grudgingly went along to whatever show had caught her grandmother's fancy. Noh had bored her, kabuki was only slightly more interesting, but what had really caught Ruki's interest was the Takarazuka revue. Unlike the traditions of kabuki and noh, which demanded an all-male cast, the Takarazuka revue was entirely female and the otokoyaku actresses were the image of the ideal man. Rei reminded her a little of the otokoyaku actresses, just without the make-up and flashy costuming decisions. Her familiarity with otokoyaku also meant that she recognized that Rei's body didn't match his presentation. Even if she was considerate about it, their captors wouldn't be.
"Look, I know you're a guy, okay," she began, and Rei started looking cagey. She pressed on. "Chances are, they don't care. They will likely disregard your identity, and rape has always been a weapon of war."
Rei glared at her, which wasn't helping. "I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can. Still, I'm going to show you something I teach everyone who comes under my protection." Ruki left off the fact that she taught these things to the cheerleaders, male and female alike. "Even if you know martial arts, no one's going to follow proper form in a down-and-dirty fight."
Rei looked miserable, but he agreed to be taught. And they began. She taught him what she had learned from the children of sex workers, street fighters, common criminals, political activists, and brawlers. How to break out of zip ties and handcuffs, how to break a nose and crush a hyoid bone, where to strike the most vulnerable parts that people generally don't think to defend. A knee to the crotch was a classic, of course, but she showed him how to grab and twist for maximum damage. Good form wouldn't keep him safe, learning how to recognize a potential weapon in his surroundings would.
In the middle of Ruki's demonstration of the right angle at which to cause enough damage kidneys to make the victim piss blood, she heard the rattling of the barred door of the jail's entrance as it opened and stopped. By the time the guard and a group of soldiers arrived, Rei was in bed, she was leaning on the bars, and who knew what the boys were doing.
They stopped in front of her. Of course. The leader stepped forward to address her.
"Asano Ruki." A false name and one they didn't have the records to verify. "Kurata requests your presence. Turn your back to the bars."
Maybe Kurata was to be their torturer. She had no idea, but she complied with their demands. Cold steel closed around her wrists, and she was yanked out of the cell. There was a loud clang as the door was slammed closed. The leader checked her for any hidden weapons, as if the violating search the night before could possibly have missed anything. She fantasized of sticking his hands and head on pikes.
An arm darted from the boys' cell, grabbed hold of a soldier's arm, and yanked the soldier bodily against the bars of the cell. "You leave her alone!" Takeru was practically screaming at them, and a smile tugged unbidden at her lips. So the angel had a vengeful streak, eh? There was a thud as what she assumed was the soldier's head met with a bar. "Let her go!"
Someone unclipped a cudgel from his belt and there were several hard smacks before the other soldier was released. "Don't worry," she began, hoping that the lightness in her voice was reassuring. "Different verse, same as the first. I'll be fine."
They led her out of the prison, which was little more than a small collection of cells that had fallen into disuse, and up and down several corridors and flights of stairs. To her surprise, they left the less developed part of the mountain and entered what she assumed was a residential area. Either the place had been cleared in advance, or everyone was out to lunch. They stopped before a door with a unit number and the resident's name given in Roman lettering. Kurata, A. One of the soldiers knocked, and the door was opened by the creeper from the night before, the one who wouldn't stop looking at her as they were processed and thrown into their cells. He smiled indulgently at her and welcomed them into his quarters.
"Welcome, dear. Ruki, was it? I'm Professor Kurata Akihiro. Please call me Akihiro." The too-familiar way he spoke her name made it feel slimy. He leaned forward, and his clammy fingers took her by the chin and his eyes scanned her face. "Oh dear, they were very rough yesterday, weren't they?"
"Things like that happen in an attack," she murmured. It was safest to keep her true personality under wraps just now. She'd play along until she knew what he wanted.
"Uncuff her, please," he said to the leader of the pack. "We cannot possibly talk like adults this way. Besides, even if this lovely slip of girl could do anything, you'll be outside, won't you?"
The soldier protested, stating that she couldn't be underestimated, but she gave the creeper such a saccharine, innocent smile that he urged the soldier until he caved. The cuffs went off and the soldiers left, and she rubbed her wrists as she took in the quarters. There were two plush armchairs with a small table between them, where a tea service had been placed on a lacy tablecloth. There were books stuffed in shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, one wall with a door that led to what she presumed was a bedroom and bathroom, a kitchenette just before that, and on the opposite wall…
Mounted on the far wall was a handful of death masks in shadow boxes to protect them from dust, each with a plaque underneath. Ruki's assessment of him went straight from "harmless creep" to "dangerous sociopath"; she may have killed and mounted heads on pikes, but it had always been for the very distinct purpose of serving as a warning to the public not to perpetuate the same crimes. She'd only ever mounted the heads of rapists and traitors. Once the heads served their time on pikes, usually a week, she had them taken down and buried with their bodies. Never had she considered taking a trophy of any of them; the only trophies she'd ever taken was of the tiger that should have killed her, because the fur warmed her on long winter nights and the teeth reminded her how close she had been to death. That the fur served as a warning to others that she had taken down a tiger at the age of eight was a bonus. This kind of trophy took time and effort to create. Four of them were middle-aged men, like Kurata, but the middle one retained the soft curves in the face of a boy who was not yet a man. This one was at the center, as if in a place of special meaning to him. What on earth could a boy have done to him to deserve that?
"Ah! You've spotted my collection!" Kurata was so close behind her that she could feel him breathing down the back of her neck. The urge to elbow him away and follow up with a jab to the nose was strong, but she barely managed to contain it. "They were my enemies." Then he slipped to her side and his hand was on her elbow. "Now, my dear, why don't we have some tea and talk?"
Though she wanted to do anything but let him touch her, Ruki allowed him to escort her to the nearest armchair and watched carefully as he poured tea into two of the four porcelain teacups available. He didn't slip anything into her cup, at least in her presence, but she couldn't possibly know if he'd lined the teacup with a drug beforehand. So she nursed it and smiled insipidly up at what she was fast starting to think of as the king of creeps and a solid candidate for a horror movie villain. Her lessons with the cheerleaders had always been mutual: she taught them how to defend themselves, they taught her how to pretend to be into a client. "What do you want to discuss, mister?"
"It's very simple, my dear." He stood across from her in a way that suggested that he was assuming power over her. Though he looked indulgent enough, there was an undercurrent that made her think that he was waiting for something. Probably for her to drink. "You're a beautiful young woman, Ms. Asano, and obviously very bright."
"I'm afraid my education stopped at elementary school," she said as she crossed her legs. His eyes followed the curve of her thighs, and she kept her grin inside. He really was desperate if he thought her trousers were sexy. This was going to be easier than she thought.
"Academic achievement is not the only measure of intelligence. I've heard that you rule Hiroshima. Well done!" He watched her more carefully now. "I would like to offer you a deal. Your freedom, and leniency for your friends, in exchange for your participation in a little project of mine. Eugenics. It can be a simple medical procedure with some small degree of pain involved, or," and his lips curled in a way that made her even more wary of her tea, "as pleasant and natural as you'd like."
Ruki blinked up at him in with a placid, considering expression that she hoped was hiding the fact that he'd just made her skin crawl with his innuendo. This was trickier; she could feign ignorance and retain her comfort levels, or press further and risk a lot more. Then, as if drawn by the dead, her eyes drifted to the grotesqueries mounted like a game hunter's trophies and her resolve hardened. It would take everything she had, but she would play this out for as long as she needed to. "For the latter," she began, a finger tracing the rim of the teacup, "I really ought to know more about you." Then she pressed the rim to her lips and tipped it just enough for the tea to wet them. Her tongue darted out for a taste; too much sugar and cream, the strong aroma and taste of roasted tea leaves steeped too long, and a hint of salt that didn't belong. Her instincts were correct; he was trying to drug her.
"Well," Kurata actually looked flattered that she seemed to be showing interest in him. "I graduated from the University of Tokyo with doctorates in theoretical physics and epigenomics, and blazed a trail towards a new field of science before the destruction of the Digital World fifteen years ago and the subsequent release of the Nellis virus. I am currently working on a vaccine for the virus, and through my work I've gained the respect of my peers."
As he spoke, she watched him through slitted eyes. "A man with ambition," she purred, though she was careful not to lay it on too thick. As she set the cup down for the moment, she ever so subtly fidgeted with her blouse's top button. "I like that."
He beamed and continued, though she did not miss the way his eyes drifted to her chest. "Ours is a time for opportunity. Those who can siege power have the chance to decide the destiny of the human race. It is my hope," and he knelt to grasp her hand, "that with your help, I can create a newer, better race to inherit the Earth."
Oh, good, he was unhinged. "But surely you know that everyone else has similar ambitions," she murmured sweetly. Admittedly, this was a new twist on the depressingly predictable world domination schemes.
"I have a plan in place that I've been working on for years," he said, and his fingers stroked the hand that he had trapped between his. The urge to rip it away was so strong that it took everything she had to resist it. "Once I fully understand the Nellis virus, I will create a vaccine that will allow me to use the virus as it had been intended to be used: as a weapon to be unleashed upon anyone unwise enough to get in the way."
"Is that what they did," she asked, and his gaze followed hers to the death masks.
He frowned, and she knew she had to backpedal as soon as she got the chance. "Don't let his youth fool you. Daimon was the worst of the lot. A brute of a boy. No one you should concern yourself with." His attention returned to her, and the flash of displeasure told her that she had to end this quickly. "Now then, do we have a deal?"
The top button popped open with calculated carelessness, and she drew attention to it with a tsk of dismay and fumbled to close it. He was distracted again. It was almost too easy. "You see, Akihiro, if I'm going to be having children with anyone, their father must be bright, clever," and he looked hopeful and drew closer to her. She popped open a second button and his breath was close enough to stir the stray hairs of her head. "More importantly? He must be brave, and of good moral fiber."
The man's face fell, and Ruki grinned widely. This was probably the worst possible thing she could do, but he really had it coming. The top of her head butted into his nose and something gave with a sickening crack. Though she hadn't hit him hard enough to drive bone fragments into his brain, it dazed him enough for her to follow it up with a sharp kick to the groin, and he collapsed in a heap, too stunned to think of getting the guards' attention. She kicked him onto his back to force him to look at her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice wasn't quite a scream, but it was close enough that some small part of her wondered why the guards weren't barging in. "You're old enough to be my father! Do you get off on victimizing kids or something? How many girls did you drug? That kid, Daimon, he can't have been the only kid you killed. How many others were there?"
Kurata only curled up on himself and whimpered, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. After making sure she had the cup of drugged tea within easy reach, she shoved him back onto his back and pressed her knees into his shoulders, using her admittedly meager weight to pin him down. His hands shot up to pull her off, and she grabbed them and pressed her thumbs hard into the soft part of the inner wrist. His dominant wrist she snapped by twisting the hand along the wrist joint, and he howled this time. Ruki paused, breathless, and still the guards did not come. Kurata was less popular than he thought. The grin she gave him was predatory, and she reached up to fetch the teacup.
"Drink or I'll snap your head off next." He glared hatefully at her, but she was able to pry open his mouth and get some of the tea into his mouth. She even got him to swallow. For several minutes, they were glaring at each other. Then, slowly, he relaxed, even with the pain of a broken nose and wrist. When Ruki asked her questions again, his answers were slurred and nearly incomprehensible. He had no idea how many he had killed indirectly, and even those he made death masks of had fallen to soldiers or poison rather than his own hands. By the time she tried to press him for further details, he had passed out from the drug.
Grateful for the small blessing, Ruki got up and rummaged around. They weren't going to escape Amaterasu, not with its level of security, but she could at least make them comfortable. His private stores she pillaged, sticking as much food as she could into her pockets and down her blouse. Some plastic bags, a screwdriver, and some soap were stuffed into her socks, and she finally stepped out of the apartment.
There was one guard on duty, who bowed to her respectfully. Why he had let her assault Kurata, she had no idea, but she presented her wrists for the cuffs and thought that she might as well make his job easier in exchange. "He drugged my sister," the guard said quietly, and the cuffs weren't as tight as they had been. "We couldn't prove anything, but… thank you."
She nodded, and they walked together back to her prison.
.*.
Despite Ruki's almost flippant reassurance, Takeru spent a good thirty minutes in a foul mood and glaring at everything. While Ken could appreciate that, it was a relief when Takeru finally wound down enough to return to his pillow seat against the wall that separated them from the other cell.
"It's Ruki," Ken said in quiet reassurance. "She's a survivor. I'd be more worried about the other guy."
Takeru couldn't quite suppress the smile. "Yeah, it's just… She shouldn't have to just survive like that. None of us should."
"It's been fifteen years since that kind of sentiment had any meaning," Mimi's bodyguard said. "We don't get the luxury for that kind of dream."
Takeru had no rebuttal, and Ken couldn't bring himself to be encouraging. They were in the worst situation he could imagine, his brother was out there somewhere and their reunion left more questions than answers, and he couldn't stop thinking of Leafmon waiting for him. There were other worries, too: did the people who ran into the tunnels manage to escape? What of those who stayed behind to fend for them? He knew that Yagami Taichi had been monitoring the tunnel's primary exit route and that there were several guards at the side exits, but there was no telling how dedicated Amaterasu was in destroying the opposition. And then there were his brother's words. What effect could Ken's presence possibly have on anything?
Time passed slowly, and while they talked for a while, Takeru and Rei were distracted by their own worries. So, they waited. At one point, he and Takeru switched seats because Takeru was significantly more battered than Ken and needed to rest somewhere more comfortable than a pillow up against a concrete wall.
Finally, when the anxiety was gnawing at them, there was the clanging of the prison door opening and a couple of pairs of feet clapping on hard concrete floors. One was the heavy thud of work boots, the other was the surprisingly welcome light clicking of Ruki's formal flats. They didn't stop at Ruki's cell, which was closer to the entrance, but at the one he shared with Takeru. She looked slightly worse for wear, but not in the way Ken would usually associate with torture.
"Sonohara here says the cells aren't monitored," Ruki said, and the lone guard nodded politely. "The equipment died long ago and no one knows how to fix it. They don't really want to torture us, so they'll interrogate us, first. This creep, Kurata, wants Ken for something. No one's sure what. Kurata seems to have his hands in the local politics, but he's not well liked." Then she smirked in that predatory way that made Ken wonder where she hid the body. "He has some sort of world domination scheme going on. It sounded too ridiculous for me to make sense of. With any luck, he won't remember how much I pried out of him before breaking a few bits and pieces."
Takeru had that slightly sour look, the one that suggested that he was torn on how to respond. And likely how to even process Ruki's words. They were such very different people with different experiences that shaped them, and it seemed sometimes that Takeru's (admittedly sometimes insufferable) moral high ground occasionally took a hit when she got to him somehow. "Which is all well and good, but is there any chance of us getting out?"
"Not before some people talk to Ichijouji," Sonohara said. "Just a preliminary thing, nothing… unnecessary. That's all I can divulge."
The wording piqued Ken's curiosity, but he got up and waited as the soldier let Ruki back into her cell with a polite grace that reminded Ken of the better aspects of the old world. The soldier had maybe been a teenager when the virus hit; old enough for recruitment, but young enough and fresh enough not to have the ideals of youth beaten out of him. Ken wondered how many others were like him in Koshikidake. Would they be freed by sympathizers? Ken was a bit too jaded to seriously consider it as a viable option.
Then the soldier came for him, and he didn't put up a struggle as he was cuffed and shown out the door. "You're just going to see the Prime Minister and Doc for now." Sonohara matched steps with him easily, which was all the more impressive for the fact that Ken was taller by several inches. "They're not going to torture you, yet. You're too valuable."
"It looks like you're helping us," Ken said. He was appreciative, of course, but he was not without suspicion. "Why?"
"This place used to mean something. I don't know if it was always rotting from within or if I only realized it when I went up in ranks, but things started changing when Kurata got hold of the Prime Minister's ear. Only, he wasn't the Prime Minister then. He was just an undersecretary. Kurata somehow got him into power and he'd been running the place from Tanaka's shadow ever since. Speak up to the wrong person, though, and you'll end up disappeared or re-educated." Sonohara paused to look Ken in the eye. "I've already risked a lot by letting Ms. Asano assault Kurata. I'd rather not give you any more details right now."
None of this surprised Ken, least of all the fact that Ruki had assaulted someone. Whoever Kurata was, he probably deserved it. "Thank you. You'll not have to worry about either of us divulging your secrets."
The soldier nodded, and they continued on their way. He was escorted through what was laid out a lot like Iwakuni's administrative corridors. Slightly different, of course, to follow the contours of a different mountain. Koshikidake, having been completed at a later date than Iwakuni, felt much more modern. There was some plastic siding cut into to expose a photogenic bit of geology, rather than the cubicle-like partitions of Iwakuni that hid the roughly-hewn stone behind them. Iwakuni was never meant to be pretty, or even a long-term residence. Iwakuni was designed for necessity, Koshikidake designed to serve as a simulacrum of the world outside. The rich man's bomb shelter. Finally, Ken was shown into a well-guarded office, uncuffed, and the other guards took watch.
A portly man with greying hair slicked back rose from the desk and moved to greet him. Not with the formal bows that Ken expected from other heads of states, but with the warm, firm handshake of an American. It jolted and jarred his damaged shoulder, and it took everything he had to keep from wincing. "Ichijouji Ken, right? I'm Prime Minister Tanaka Itsuwa. Welcome!"
"Thank you." The handshake stopped, and Ken withdrew his hand warily. He'd stopped trusting feigned cheerfulness long ago. "I would have been open to a more diplomatic avenue for discussions, rather than being attacked and brought here against my will."
Tanaka pursed his lips and considered him with folded arms before answering. "We cannot abide the actions of rebels tearing away at the fabric of our good nation. Our tactical response was appropriate."
"Both the 1925 Geneva Protocol and the 1993 Chemical Weapons Convention prohibit the use of chemical weapons, including tear gas," Ken pointed out. "Yours was a show of excessive force."
Then a smug little smirk appeared on the man's face, and faintly Ken wondered if Ruki would be up for smacking it, too. "Article II section 9 allows their use in a law enforcement or riot control situation."
There it was again: the assumption of authority. Everything about Tanaka presumed that he already had the country in his hands and was simply allowing it to roil in chaos. "You speak as if we are still one nation. We haven't been for a long time."
"Of course we are still one country—" The older man's tone was indulgent and condescending at once, and Ken had to cut him off.
"A government governs." If a little of Ken's irritation showed, Tanaka didn't bring attention to it. "It enforces the law of the land, protects the least fortunate of its people, and ensures that the infrastructure remains intact. It does not hide in a hole while others repair the roads and water systems it neglected."
Tanaka seemed to accede that to him, at least, and his tone was conciliatory. "Ah. Yes, of course, you're correct. We have been very negligent, haven't we? We lost a lot good people to the disease, but now that we're ready, we can bring order back to our nation."
"Except it's not your nation, not anymore," Ken snapped. A small part of him wished he had Iori here to argue in his stead — as much as they fought, Ken knew that Iori was much better at playing politics and would be able to argue circles around Tanaka. Iori would be able to point out the work Ken had thrown into rebuilding without making it look like grandstanding. They had their differences, but Iori always preferred to operate out of fairness. "No one outside voted for any of you. You've stopped representing the people fifteen years ago. What makes you think you have any authority beyond this mountain?"
Tanaka beamed, which made Ken immediately wary. "Why, thank you for the honesty of your opinions, and for cutting to the quick. In times of disaster, martial law can be declared. We have simply stopped allowing such gross violations of the Public Security Preservation Law of 1925. 'Anyone who has formed an association with altering the national essence, or the system of private property, and anyone who has joined such an association with full knowledge of its object, shall be liable to imprisonment with or without hard labor, for a term not exceeding ten years.'" Ken wanted to challenge that, but he couldn't remember why. Wasn't it a defunct law? There was something in his reading about the problem of the vagueness of the law and the rise of thought police. Again he wished Iori was here, just to argue law. "I'm sure you can understand that your actions have brought you to this place now. As for our authority, it is enforced by two things. One we have already: superior firepower. The second is where you come in."
Though that threw him for a moment, a sudden unease welled within him. Osamu said that he'd doomed them all. Was that by being captured? "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"The Nellis virus was always meant to be a weapon," Tanaka began. "An ingenious bit of bioengineering; it kills only those strong enough to oppose the creators and leaves behind children that can be molded to suit one's needs. We've spent so many years trying to decode it, figure out how it works so that we can develop a vaccine to serve as a bargaining chip. Your brother is the only one who has been able to figure it out enough to control it." Horror settled into a cold weight at the pit of his stomach, and he was speechless. Tanaka saw realization dawn on his face and was pleased. "You understand now, don't you? Your brother has been resisting us ever since he realized what we planned to do with his vaccine. One way or the other, you are here to convince him to surrender his knowledge. Understand that he is not expendable. You, however, are merely a means to an end."
You've doomed us all, his brother had said, and the realization of what he meant tasted bitter in his mouth. The self-styled Prime Minister clapped him on the shoulder and he had to grit his teeth to keep from visibly wincing. "Between you and me, young man? I would recommend making a concentrated effort to convince him. Why don't you go see him now, get it out of the way?"
Ken was shown out the door, and he followed the guards with the steps of one who was operating on automatic. The long walk helped settle him, though he couldn't quite shake the tangled mess of emotions. He set it aside to be processed in the dark, instead. By the time they arrived at a door at the end of a long hallway, he had steeled himself for whatever his brother might throw at him.
The laboratory was in two parts. The first was filled with equipment, the vast majority of which Ken couldn't possibly identify, and a couple of desks with computers. Beyond that was a glass wall with a series of doors leading to a sterile room, much like the isolation chambers at Iwakuni. Within were more pieces of indecipherable equipment, microscopes, freezers, and a work bench. Then there was his brother seated at one of the computers with his back to the door, the steady clicking of knitting needles coming from his direction.
"I'm working on a protein synthesis problem. Go harass Hasugaeki," Osamu snapped, as if soldiers barging in on his work was a regular occurrence. He turned in his chair in that way that warned Ken that he was annoyed, and faltered when he saw Ken among them. The annoyance dissipated, replaced by bland neutrality. "Thank you, now go away."
The soldiers left and closed the door behind him, and Osamu set down his knitting needles and what looked to be a scarf in the making in exchange for a white kit. He got up and approached Ken with that same neutral expression. The kit was set down on the nearest surface, opened, and Osamu dabbed some alcohol on a swab and withdrew an empty hypodermic needle. "Have you ever encountered a man named Matsuda Takato or known as the Grail, or been in a significant amount of contact with someone who has? Were there any effects?"
That came out of nowhere. Ken blinked and considered the questions. Didn't Takeru mention that Hikari was looking for the Grail? And he seemed to remember the name, vaguely. A couple of weeks afterwards, there had been a mild epidemic that came and went with less fanfare than any outbreak of the common cold. "Er. Maybe? There was an outbreak of something mild that a couple of agents came back with several months ago, but nothing remarkable. We'd had more trouble with seasonal colds."
"Good." The bland neutrality broke and Osamu allowed himself a little smugness. It was, surprisingly, a relief to see it again. "Take off your shirt. I'd like a sample to verify."
Though confused, Ken obeyed. Osamu busied himself with some equipment in the meantime, like he always did when he was talking to anyone and there was a lull in discussion. He didn't mean to be rude, Ken knew, it just looked that way to anyone who didn't know that Osamu generally thought at a much faster pace than most people. "May I ask what this is about?"
Osamu sighed; he used to be better at refraining from expressing his frustration at slowing down for others. "First, I'll be taking a sample of blood to check for the presence of antibodies. Second, I will use the ultrasound scanner to check how your shoulder is healing. I'd prefer a MRI scan, but an ultrasound scanner is more portable and easier to hide in plain sight. Now, give me your arm so that we can get this over with."
"Antibodies to what?" Ken wanted to sigh in turn; Osamu's personality was harsh at the best of times, and being here hadn't done him any favors. His brother ignored him for the moment to find a vein, wipe the skin over it with alcohol, and there was a sharp pinch and the always odd sensation of something hard and cold going inside him and blood being forcibly drawn away. When the hypodermic needle was full, Osamu replaced the cap and set it aside, and gave Ken a cotton ball to press onto the tiny entrance wound. He trotted over to a small, portable refrigerator, where he took out a box, emptied the contents, and placed the needle within it. The box was returned to its place in the refrigerator, and the contents placed in Ken's hands: a couple of rice balls and a cup of grilled vegetables and tofu. Osamu had always eaten like an ascetic; it was no surprise that this tendency had only gotten worse over the years.
"I know it's not much," Osamu said when Ken failed to hide the disappointment. "I adopted vegetarianism shortly after coming to this place. As for the other… Do you know how they vaccinated people before Louis Pasteur figured out that weakening or killing a pathogen protected the recipient from a full-fledged infection? Small slave children infected with cowpox would be taken overseas to inoculate vulnerable populations against smallpox. It wasn't the best option available, but it was the only one I had when Kurata got some kid to mangle my roses and somehow developed a mutant form of the Nellis virus as a result. Now then, turn around."
Ken turned and felt something cold and sticky spread across the entrance and exit scars left by the bullet, and the ultrasound probe was pressed against his skin. He wanted to ask what Osamu was rambling about, but it would only frustrate him again and Ken would prefer to have a reunion that wasn't quite this tense. Osamu hummed as he looked over the imagery, and then Ken realized something: Osamu shouldn't have known about the assassination attempt at all, not if Jianliang's analysis was correct. "Osamu? How did you know about this?"
"I have my sources." Osamu paused and turned Ken around to scan the entry scar. His eyes only left the monitor to check his probe placement. What he could make out of the images, Ken had no idea. "Your soft tissues have healed well enough," Osamu said in that distracted tone of his. "Damned thing can't see past a bone's surface, so I can't tell how deep the fractures are. It does look like your right scapula has undertaken enough stress to undo most of your bone's healing. The lack of skeletal fixation is worrisome. I'd open you up to fit you with a plate and some surgical coral if I could." Then he wiped away the gel and busied himself with erasing the images and putting away the machine.
Self-consciously, Ken pulled his shirt and jacket back on and nibbled on his brother's lunch as Osamu bustled about. He didn't know what to expect, really. Osamu was behaving as if he'd always known that Ken would turn up, and the lack of surprise over his wound bothered him for some infantile reason he couldn't articulate. Had he wanted an emotional reunion with hugs and proclamations of who missed who more? Not that it would happen — Osamu turned emotional detachment into an art form even before he left. Still, he had to try something. "I missed you. Why didn't you send word that you were alive?"
"Because you would have come after me before my plans came to fruition. So long as you didn't know and stayed safely inside Iwakuni, I had the freedom to run Kurata's plans aground while my variety of cowpox had the time to spread and render it powerless." Osamu paused and managed a weak smile. "I missed you, too, but I never wanted you here."
"You know why I was sent here, then?" There was some relief in that, at least. If Osamu already knew the ultimatum, he wouldn't have to deliver it himself.
Despite Osamu's reserve, disgust managed to twist his lip into a small sneer. "I know, and it reeks of Kurata's typical cowardice. My answer remains the same."
He didn't get an opportunity to go much further. There was a knock at the door, and then a young woman dressed in pale yellows and browns stepped into the lab with a scowl on her face. Her blouse was long-sleeved, her skirt swept around her ankles, and she wore more bangles and bracelets than anyone would consider tasteful. They tinkled with each step, and crashed together when she stopped abruptly. Her honey-brown eyes widened in surprise. "Doc! I'm sorry; the soldiers didn't say anything about a visitor. I'll come back later."
Osamu sighed. "Stay and make yourself useful. Katou, this is my brother, Ken. Ken, this is my assistant, Katou Juri."
Katou gave him a smile that might have been friendly, but it never quite reached her eyes. She did manage a slight bow, which Ken appreciated for the fact that bowing in return didn't jar his shoulder as much as a handshake. "Really, I just sit around and look nice."
Ken wanted to respond to that, but Sonohara opened the door and it was time to go back to his cell. The damage was done, and the walk gave Ken plenty of time to realize how monumentally he'd screwed up. With him here, Osamu would be pressured into surrendering what he knew of the Nellis virus and likely reveal his countermeasure in the process.
.*.
When they woke, it was so early that the stars were still out. The four of them trekked to the motorboat tied in the abandoned harbor of Atata Island, and they were stopped by a call from Jianliang's contact via his replacement satellite phone, a man named Yamaki. Daisuke's stomach sank as Yamaki reported the names of those captured, and the names of the dead that they could identify. None of them sounded familiar, thankfully, but even one dead was too much. Then they were off to Iwakuni.
At best, Daisuke was confused. At worst, he was dumbfounded by what seemed like a complete waste. They said that they needed him for Iwakuni, but they got in through an unused service shaft that was so well hidden that he would have missed it entirely while walking by. It led them to a corridor that twisted and turned and went so deeply that not even the lights were on. The Wanderer led the way with a flashlight, and it was barely enough to pick out their path. V-mon remained as quiet as he had been ever since their capture, and sometimes Daisuke caught him looking at Ryo with a grief and misery that looked so odd on him. Daisuke wanted to ask about it, but V-mon deterred him the few times he tried.
"What do you know of chess, Daisuke?" Jianliang's pace remained steady as he spoke, and the sway of Ryo's flashlight didn't change.
"That I'm not smart enough to win against a rock, let alone you guys," Daisuke snarked. Sure, he was used to being the average one, but some people really had a way of making him feel like an ignorant child being chastized for the mere sin of not knowing enough. His partner, who had consented to be carried to keep from slowing them down, patted his arm reassuringly. "Why?"
The response was slower in coming, probably because Jianliang was counting to ten in his head or something. "The queen is the most powerful piece on the board. She's capable of moving the furthest, has the most flexibility, and is usually kept in reserve to take down the king."
"Great. What's that got to do with anything?"
"What color do we associate with death," Ryo asked. "Or, did before the Westerners came?"
"White, because we wear undyed linen to funerals and for mourning." Something that every kid who lived through the Apocalypse knew by heart now. "Again, what's going on?"
Neither of them answered, and they continued on their way in silence. When they finally stopped at the one place where an emergency light glowed an angry red on the wall, he realized something: he'd been here before. They had once held Oikawa here, and then he died of four penetrating wounds that never should have happened in the first place. Jianliang tapped in a code that Daisuke didn't get to see, and they were inside an area with a collection of isolation chambers. Daisuke recognized one of them as the one he'd thought was used before because there was no dust on the doorknob or the floor just before the entrance. This they entered, and Jianliang threw on the lights and pressed a button on the console.
There were three sections that might have passed as rooms, and there was a curtain drawn across the one immediately across from the glass that separated the rooms. Jianliang's smile was tight and grim and made Daisuke's skin crawl. "Introducing the White Queen."
A woman in an oversized purple dressing gown stepped out from behind the curtain and rubbed her eyes blearily. Her hair was streaked with white, but she still reminded him of a supermodel. She also had to be in her forties. Daisuke's jaw worked around the questions that threatened to spill out, but he couldn't utter a sound. "Jen! What time is it? You never come this early."
"It's almost six," Jianliang responded. "I'm afraid that I'm not here for a social call. Ken, your daughter, and several others have been captured by Amaterasu. We need your help and Osamu has authorized your release."
The woman looked horrified, and her identity clicked just then. She was a softer, older version of Ruki, gorgeous the way Ruki could have been if it wasn't for the harsh personality. But none of the adults should have survived! … But there had been that one old lady in Hiroshima he caught sight of when they were helping Ruki with a usurper problem. Maybe there were more survivors. But a survivor would be out and about, not locked up behind glass like… like a lab specimen. The white queen kept in reserve until it was time to take down the king. White for death. Nausea welled within Daisuke as he finally understood why Jianliang and Ryo hadn't actually told him their plans. Their plans involved unleashing the killer virus on Amaterasu.
.*.
With no one monitoring them, they felt confident enough to talk during the night. Once their captors learned that Rei was simply a substitute for the Shogun, he was sent back to the prison with little more than a few bruises. Ruki had told them of her encounter of Kurata and the supplies she stole and had hidden in plastic bags in the mattress, and Ken compared that to what he had learned from his brother. Takeru and Rei remained silent throughout. Ken had no idea what was going on with Rei, but Takeru had that vengeful look on him again when Ruki mentioned the drugging attempt and the death masks. He supposed it was just as well that they were stuck in prison, because he had read about Takeru killing a group of people in his single-minded rage in Daisuke's report and the last thing they needed was to make things worse. So he let Takeru be, at least for the moment, and focused on his own problems. Osamu would fight their demands to turn over his research and the key to the virus regardless of Ken's presence. Which, of course, meant that they would put further pressure on Osamu by torturing Ken. Or, at least, that was what Ruki had said once they put together the day's experiences. She suggested that they were likely to put on a show for Osamu, which meant that they were likely to try to keep him alive until the last possible minute and would use techniques that got dramatic responses without doing too much damage. It didn't help.
Ken had spent the night in uneasy sleep on the bed, and was awake by the time the soldiers came for him. Sonohara was among them, and looked apologetic when no one was watching. He was cuffed and marched in a direction opposite of the one he'd been taken through last time. Or perhaps they were ensuring that he wouldn't be able to find his way out, or back. Ruki had said that the anticipation was worse than the actual experience, but Ken honestly couldn't keep from wondering what was in store for him. So preoccupied was he by this anxiety that he was surprised by their sudden arrival to what looked like an operating theater. The bright lights focused on an operating table fitted with straps, and there were several pieces of equipment. Trapped behind a glass wall was Osamu, with Kurata at his side and a soldier to serve for security. A nasal splint made Kurata's nose look larger than it had been, and there was a cast on his dominant wrist. Kurata couldn't wear his glasses with the splint, and he ended up bringing them to his face every few seconds to make out what was going on. Tanaka joined them in the observation room.
With the audience in place, Ken was stripped of his shirt and blazer and shown to the audience. Kurata fumbled with controls on the other side of the glass until he found the sound system. "Welcome! Before we proceed," Kurata began with a nasty gleam in his unfocused eyes, "Ichijouji Osamu, will you surrender all your research data and any progress you have made on a vaccine?"
Osamu's face was stony, though it was clear to Ken that he was avoiding having to look at anything in order to stay focused. "My answer remains the same. Too much of the data is lost for me to assist you in killing off the rest of humanity."
The older man glared hatefully at Ken's brother and moved to address the soldiers when Tanaka whispered into his ear. The hate was replaced by cruel delight, and the microphone turned over to the self-appointed Prime Minister. "I noticed something unusual about the younger Ichijouji. He seems to favor his right side. You there. Corporal. Break his shoulder blade. The right one. Shouldn't take much, I don't think."
Steeling himself hadn't helped, and he screamed as the still-healing bone cracked apart under the blunt force of a cudgel. The pain was worse than the bullet, somehow; it was deep and wrong and made him feel woozy and nauseous at once. He was thrown onto the operating table on his back, which sent another shock of pain through his body. His feeble attempts to defend himself did nothing but make the pain worse, and he was eventually strapped into place. Something was being wheeled into sight, and the edges gleamed in the light. There was frantic, high-pitched squeaking, and the nausea got worse when he recognized them as rats.
"This is a favorite of mine," Kurata said. Ken couldn't see them from his angle, but Kurata sounded smug. "The rats have fleas bearing Yersinia pestis. Which do you think will kill him first? The rats or one of three varieties of plague?"
Osamu remained quiet as the glass cage was brought to Ken's side. Before they came too much closer, he spoke up. "Fine." The disgust in his brother's voice was palpable. "Let me repair his shoulder, then I'll give you exactly what you want. You'll get only a small portion of the data you want before then."
Though he tried to focus on the words, the pain was too much and Ken slipped away into unconsciousness.
.*.
By noon, Akihiro was fairly pleased with himself. Osamu proved surprisingly easy to break once his little brother was the one being tortured. He turned over the genome sequence for the Nellis virus and withheld the rest on the claim that he'd turn it over afterwards. As this was the most progress they'd gotten out of him yet, Akihiro could afford to be generous. Everything was falling into place, even with the hitch of Ruki turning the tables on him. He had underestimated her, and though he couldn't remember all that transpired when he had her brought to his quarters, broken body parts were very telling. It was a shame; she had the kind of physical beauty that set her apart from the other candidates for his project and the brains to make for a good genetic match, but her unwillingness only meant that he would have to try other options. A lobotomy might help make her compliant; he'd have to look into it once he had what he needed from Osamu.
Somewhere in the midst of looking up neurosurgery procedures and appropriate structures of the brain to target, Kurata got a call from his puppet of a Prime Minister. A request to view a satellite report from their deep-cover agent in Iwakuni. Curious, he marked his place and set the book aside to meet with Tanaka. The trip allowed him time to bask in the glow of his continued success. In another world, Daimon Masaru destroyed him and his ambitions, and his consciousness had been ripped apart in the space between worlds. Someone reset time, somehow, and united several Digital Worlds. While he never fully found out what happened, he understood two very serendipitous things: the Digital Worlds were functionally destroyed and no longer a danger to anyone, and only a very few people remembered the original time stream. Foreknowledge allowed him to better position himself for the opportunities that opened up in the wake of the Apocalypse, and with it he eliminated Masaru before he became a problem. However, time was catching up to him now that he was in his forties, and a king needed an heir.
He arrived to see Itsuwa making small talk over a satellite-relayed video connection with Henry Wong, one of the few good children out there. Henry understood the necessity of authority and structure, and had kept them informed the best he could. He came to them years ago claiming to be sick of his mistreatment as the only son of a Chinese-American G.I. who had been stationed at the M.C.A.S. Iwakuni. Akihiro had been sympathetic and taken Henry under his wing, and Henry shared his vision for a new world. He understood the bullying nature of people who were stronger than him, and knew that the only thing they responded to was a greater show of force. He could only hope that his children would be as polite and dedicated as Henry.
"Henry! How kind of you to call," Akihiro began with a fondness he had for very few. "What can we do for you?"
"I've been in contact with the Iwakuni council and discovered something you may be interested in. They've been hiding a woman who was successfully treated with a vaccine before the scientists here died. I'll show you her now." Henry switched the feed to a woman around Akihiro's age, sitting in an office and playing cards with Henry's agent, Ryo. She looked up at the camera at Henry's behest and waved with a disarming smile. The feed switched back and Henry continued. "Her name is Makino Rumiko, and she was brought in before the pandemic destroyed our world. Though the data is lost, I believe you can reverse-engineer the vaccine used on her. As I understand it, the Ichijoujis were planning to do the same. They'll turn her over if you'll turn over the hostages."
Though delight almost made him grin in triumph, the pull of his cheeks sent a fresh jolt a pain through his face. "Well done," Tanaka exclaimed. "We agree. Bring her to Yagamata Airport and we'll do the exchange there."
Henry gave that reserved smile of his, and though he clearly caught sight of Akihiro's nasal splint, he didn't bring it up. Akihiro liked that about him. "I'm on it. Expect her by later tonight. Good day to both of you, sirs."
The connection closed, and Akihiro turned to Itsuwa. "Five hostages for one is a bit much. Osamu is still useful, and I would like to keep Ruki as my own special project."
Itsuwa searched his face, which displeased him all the more for the fact that Itsuwa shouldn't be thinking of questioning him. "The Ichijoujis we'll keep because they're still useful. The others can go. You can always find another pretty girl."
Akihiro grunted an acknowledgment and left. He could find another pretty girl, sure, but he wanted revenge for the injury to his body and pride. No greater revenge was there than to take away the autonomy of a self-made woman. But, perhaps he could afford to let her go, for now. There would always be an opportunity to abduct her later. He would simply have her followed.
With a distinct sense of satisfaction, Akihiro went to lunch.
Notes: Ryo's full background is given in a series of four videogames for the Wonderswan: Anode/Cathode Tamer, Tag Tamers, D-1 Tamers, and Brave Tamer. His temporary partner in Tag and D-1 Tamers is V-mon, who is revealed in Brave Tamer as the same V-mon that later went to Daisuke. Also, when V-mon remembers Ryo in BT, Daisuke exhibits some jealousy that Ryo had him first. Brave Tamer is the game which reveals that Ryo's true partner is the evil god Millenniumon, that the bodiless Millenniumon jogressed with Monodramon to become Cyberdramon, and serves as the transition point for Ryo between the 02 universe and Digimon Tamers.
In both Digimon Tamers and this chapter, Ryo uses a whip move called a wrap. This is where the energy of the whip is expended in a loud crack at the end and the fall wraps harmlessly around the target. Skilled whipcrackers are able to do this without causing harm to the target. Visit bullwhip dot org for more info on how this works. This is why Ryo isn't actually hurting Cyberdramon when his whip wraps around his wrist, because the animation depicts the point where the energy expends before the wrap. Besides, armor. Come on, fandom.
Theater in Japan is complicated. The kabuki tradition originated as a women's-only theater, but was banned in 1629 for being too erotic. Men took it over and adolescent boys assumed female roles ("onnagata"), but nowadays some women do act in kabuki. Noh is an older theater form, and was also male-dominated. It's in this landscape that the Takarazuka revue began in 1913 as an all-woman theater troupe to draw in tourists. Women who play male roles ("otokoyaku") cut their hair short and learn to assume masculine behavior and speech forms. The otokoyaku presents the ideal man, without the roughness or desire to dominate, and as such are hugely popular among the mostly female audience. They are not generally truly transgender, as the role does come off, but it does transcend gender norms and that's been proposed as part of the appeal for much of the (estimated) 90% female audience.
The drug Kurata tried to slip Ruki is GHB, a sedative sometimes used for date rape that's also fairly easy to synthesize. It can also cause amnesia, which is why Kurata has trouble recalling the details of his encounter with Ruki's bad side.
The Public Security Preservation Law of 1925 was so extremely vague that it would require reams of paper just to explain the kokutei (I used the translation "national essence" but it's so much more than that)/seitai (governing body) system that birthed it. Essentially, the law forbade both forming and belonging to any organization that threatened the fabric of the national essence. The closest analogy I can come up with is McCarthyism with an unhealthy dose of 1984. There was even a thought police (the Tokkou) to investigate any claims of the presence of threatening political groups. This law was used as a weapon against dissent and was repealed in 1945.
Yersinia pestis is the bacterium that causes pneumonic, septicemic, and bubonic plagues. If you've heard of Justinian's Plague or the Black Death, you've heard of y. pestis.
Both Sonohara and Tanaka are original, because I couldn't find anyone to fit in their roles just right.