Chapter 25

"What are you doing up?"

Avoiding eye contact with the man who had poked his head through the door left ajar, Daiki bent carefully to retrieve his boots from under the bed. "Is the foreigner gone, Jiro-sama?" he asked.

"Yes." Jiro stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. "Now, what are you doing up? I told you to rest."

"I must go, Jiro-sama," Daiki whispered. "I shouldn't have come. Father—"

"Sit down, we have an important subject to discuss." The order was given in a pleasant tone, but it was an order nonetheless, and Daiki sat on the large bed. Jiro let out a sigh and went to the window. "I remember telling you, time and time again, to keep as far away as possible from Wang Ushi," he said, his voice low. "Either the temptation was too strong or I wasn't clear enough." He pushed the latticed panels of the window open, letting the day's fading light stream in unhindered. "And though I have several important questions, one takes precedence over everything else. When did Wang Ushi learn about your existence?"

Daiki squirmed and balled his fists. "That was an accident, Jiro-sama. The fucker saw me with a … uh … colleague who lives in his boardinghouse. It was an accident; I had to help Eng Ho home last month and—"

"Last month?" Jiro interrupted incredulously. "Are you telling me that Wang Ushi, Major Wang Ushi, the Major Wang Ushi, former officer in charge of the Anthill, former official executor of the Anthill, has known about your existence since last month? What kind of lethal game have you been playing, boy?"

"He's only a crazy old goat, nobody pays attention to him," Daiki mumbled, glad for the swelling and bruises on his face that prevented him from clear speech and, by extension, from too elaborate explanations. "And I don't get close to his house when I'm wearing the uniform, ever. He doesn't—"

"Gods, I can't believe this!" Jiro cut him off again in a louder, angrier tone. "You don't get close to Wang Ushi in your uniform? Really? Uniform or not, since when are you a regular visitor to Wang Ushi's house? To Wang Ushi's neighborhood?"

"I'm not, Jiro-sama, I swear! Sometimes Eng Ho and I just—"

"Eng Ho and 'I'?" Jiro screeched. "How sweet that sounds!"

"He's a reliable source of information, Jiro-sama," Daiki answered, cringing. "And he didn't comment to the old man that I'm also serving in the force. He hates Wang Ushi; he barely greets the bastard nowadays. I think he's going to move…" and he trailed off, aware of how lame and childish his attempts at justification were coming out.

"So, a human has more common sense than you, is that what you're telling me?" Jiro demanded coldly. "Daiki, can you imagine how long it will take for Wang Ushi to contact his old pals if he suspects that the force was successfully infiltrated? And, crazy or not, don't you think his pals will at least investigate his denounces?"

"I've been careful, Jiro-sama! I've only—"

"You've 'only' stood provokingly at his gate this very afternoon as he screamed 'Youkai' at the top of his lungs," Jiro countered, drumming his long nails on the windowsill. "The scene attracted Cho Hakkai's attention to you and, therefore, brought him straight to us. There's a huge difference between being brave and being suicidal, boy. Or being simply careless."

Daiki did not respond, but seemed to grow smaller and younger in his cornered mortification. How could he admit to Jiro, who had spent the last sixty years secretly leading the youkai resistance, that his most trustful operative's cover had been blown because Daiki had gone out to drink beer with Eng Ho after a shift and the human had been too drunk to make it home by himself?

"I'm not angry at you for having friends in the force," Jiro said softly, disturbing the heavy silence that followed his accusations. "I'm just—"

"Eng Ho is not my friend," Daiki growled, then pressed his right hand to his ribs. "I'm not friends with humans, Jiro-sama. Eng Ho works in Wu Tai's station; he's our best bet for information—"

"Daiki. Whatever your reasons were, you should have come to me and told me about Wang Ushi having outed you."

"Then you would have made me abandon my mission," Daiki rasped, casting Jiro a guilty look. "And I can't do that, Jiro-sama. Father—"

"Everything comes down to Zuoji with you, right?" Jiro replied softly. "You're so desperate to have your father's approval that you're willing to be killed rather than let him discover that things aren't going as he planned."

Daiki blinked back tears. "Please, Jiro-sama, don't take this away from me. Please, let me continue to help our people. Let me make a difference!"

"You've already made a difference, boy." Jiro held up a hand to forestall more protests. "Besides, I never, ever, condoned this idea of sending you into the tiger's den. Contrary to what Zuoji or Ojii-sama may have hammered into your head, you're not expendable."

Daiki grimaced. "But I am!"

"Oh, child…" Jiro shook his head, smiling sadly. "I've heard similar words once. And the ending of that story broke my heart forever."

Daiki gaped as Jiro glided to the laden vanity table at their right and retrieved an ivory comb.

"I was the same age as you are now when I met Houchi," Jiro said, sitting at the mirror. "You must have heard the name mentioned countless times."

"Ojii-sama's younger son," Daiki croaked.

"And his father's son he was, all right." Jiro loosened the ribbon that tied back his hair and the sleek mass tumbled past his waist like a mantle. "You see, when my family came to this town, humans and youkai were still battling each other for lands. We had money, so it wasn't difficult to find a comfortable position, even when the main road debacle started. I met Houchi at a party by chance; Ojii-sama wanted him on the town's Council, and both were working hard to mobilize the youkai community." Jiro paused, eyes glittering, then started combing his hair with slow, patient strokes. "I fell hard, Daiki. I didn't care about politics at the time. Actually, I used to argue with Houchi about his dedication to a cause that clearly was not his. My reaction to Ojii-sama's obsession with this barren hill was similar to Son Goku's: Why not simply go away and find another place to live?"

"Ojii-sama founded this town for us," Daiki offered mildly, fascinated by those long strands. "It's his legacy to our kind."

Jiro snorted. "Ah, yes. Funny, isn't it, that he managed to bathe this land in blood and sow it with bones, including his own children's. His 'legacy' is a pile of corpses."

Uncomfortable, Daiki shifted his attention to his bare feet. "Did Ojii-sama step in between you and his son?"

"Do you believe that my resentment towards Ojii-sama is due to my condition of a scorned lover?" Jiro asked, sounding amused. "No, Daiki, Ojii-sama didn't intervene. At first, I was nothing but Houchi's fancy plaything, or so he thought. Only when Houchi refused to marry an influential youkai woman—a woman Ojii-sama himself had chosen—did things get nasty. To the point where Houchi feared for my life. He knew his father had no qualms regarding murder."

Daiki jerked his head up, meeting Jiro's intent eyes in the mirror. "Did Ojii-sama try to kill you, Jiro-sama?"

"In a certain way he did kill me, Daiki."

"What? I don't—"

"Houchi was Ojii-sama's last hope for reassuming control over 'his town.' Shaiming, his favorite son, had died stupidly in a street brawl. Another son, I don't even remember his name, suffered from a severe mental illness. There were the really older ones, the children Ojii-sama had fathered before coming to this land, but he didn't care about those. And there were two daughters, whom Ojii-sama despised. One, in particular, was very dear to Houchi. She had eloped with a human and lived on the coast; Ojii-sama, very predictably, never forgave her the affront. When she came to visit—and she would come almost every year for Houchi's birthday—she had to get rooms in human inns. No youkai would receive her." The comb stopped mid-stroke. "Houchi used to take us both to picnics under the moonlight when she was around. Her name was Lien."

Daiki opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of a proper reply.

"You can imagine the powder keg upon which we three were dancing at the time," Jiro continued. "There were rumors everywhere about humans mobilizing an army while Ojii-sama exhorted youkai to fight for 'their homeland.' The air practically sizzled with tension that autumn. Then, on the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, Houchi came to me and told me to pack my things. He was going to deliver an urgent message for Ojii-sama to a nearby village and that would be the last errand he would run for his father. Afterwards, we would go away." Jiro turned on his seat to face Daiki. "That very night Xie Haifu ordered the Youkai Massacre," he whispered. "Haifu's men raided the whole town, especially the mixed areas, killing or arresting every youkai or 'youkai lover' they found. My family's house was spared—as well as a few others that belonged to the youkai elite. Lien, on the other hand, was caught alone and unprotected among the humans and sent to the Anthill. When Houchi learned about his sister's death he simply went … berserk. He blamed himself. And he blamed me. I had written to her, advising her to stay away from this town; however, according to Houchi, such a warning only had made her rush to us, out of concern." Jiro studied his comb, pulling off a few loose strands that had stuck in it. "Of course, Houchi never believed my version of the facts. He never believed that Ojii-sama was behind everything."

"Ojii-sama!" Daiki exclaimed, aghast. "That's not possible! I mean… How could he?"

"My theory? Ojii-sama knew beforehand about Xie Haifu's extermination plans, perhaps even contributed to them, and manipulated things to set the date at his convenience. He sent Houchi out of the town and arranged for us not to hear of Lien's arrival. My own letter of alert to her may have been intercepted." Jiro shrugged. "It makes sense, ne? With Lien's death, Ojii-sama had Houchi as his puppet again. He also managed to exact his revenge on Lien for defying him, and on me, for daring to put myself between him and his goals." Jiro laughed mirthlessly and pointed to the mirror. "Oh, here, look at your face, Daiki. I know it's hard to believe… Zuoji doesn't accept this version, either. He calls me paranoid. Be that as it may, that was the first and last time I underestimated Ojii-sama."

"'There is no such thing as coincidence?'" Daiki quoted in a subdued voice.

Jiro nodded. "Precisely. After Lien's ordeal, Houchi started spilling his father's old drivel about the 'cause' and about our 'mission' against the 'human scourge.' It was sixty years ago, Daiki, but I still can hear him parroting those words to me. We never left, of course. Houchi had his sister's death to avenge." He stood and went back to the window. "Less than one year after Lien's death, Houchi was also arrested and taken to the Anthill. I still have nightmares about what was done to him there." Jiro started sticking the ends of his loose hair in a hole on the outside wall. "For the birds," he murmured, noticing Daiki's surprise. "They use them to make nests."

Daiki acknowledged the explanation with a short "Oh," then tried to pick one of his boots up with the toes of his left foot. He felt terribly out of place in this bedroom—his father's bedroom, for all he knew—listening to Jiro talk about his past as if they were close friends.

"What is your dream, Daiki?" Jiro asked abruptly.

Daiki startled and the boot fell back on the floor. "Uh?"

"Your dream," Jiro insisted. "What do you want the most in your life?"

"To help our people," Daiki answered hesitantly. "My mission—"

"No." The reprimand was very mild. "Something for you."

"Yanan," Daiki answered, tilting up his chin. Yanan—older, poor, mutilated—was a choice his father frowned upon.

"Zuoji doesn't like her," Jiro remarked evenly, echoing Daiki's thoughts. "But not because he's concerned about your future with an inadequate wife. He fears that she's going to distract you from your 'mission.'"

Daiki lowered his head, humiliated. "Yeah… I suppose."

"I lost everything the day Houchi died, Daiki," Jiro stated as he headed to an unobtrusive bureau near the door. "My dreams. My future. Everything was just … gone." He opened a drawer and pulled out a wooden box. "In the end? I stayed here. I stayed because I couldn't—and I still can't—bear the idea of being separated from the man I loved. So I joined forces with Ojii-sama and Zuoji—Zuoji, who also ended up losing a son in this senseless battle."

"Father never recovered from Gihei's death," Daiki murmured softly.

"And he never will. I'm sorry, Daiki, but you will never be Gihei to him. As Zuoji will never be Houchi to me." Jiro smiled at Daiki's surprised expression. "What, you didn't know we are together?"

Wide-eyed, Daiki shook his head. "Look," he stammered, "I don't want—"

"—to know what transpires between your father and me in this very room? Fair enough." Jiro cradled the box he held closer to his body. "What I'm trying to say to you is that you're struggling to secure something that will never be yours. That's why I want you to take Yanan and go east."

Despite his injuries, Daiki jumped to his feet. "Jiro-sama, I can't," he protested. "My duty—"

"Your duty? Since you can't live up to your father's expectations, are you going to die for them?"

"I—I can't simply go—"

"Why not?" Jiro demanded. "Daiki, why not? The only duty you have is to yourself and the one you love. I don't want to see you share Houchi's fate. Or Gihei's. Or mine. Don't let them take your dreams away. It's time to break the circle."

"But… What will happen to you? And to father? And the youkai in this town?"

"We aren't your responsibility. And your 'mission' is over at any rate. I won't allow you to go back to your post, now that your cover is blown."

"Jiro-sama, I still can get information for you. I can—"

"Did it never occur to you that we could have recruited a human to do your job?"

Daiki paused, mid-rant. "Human?"

"A much safer choice," Jiro answered. "I've tried to convince Ojii-sama of this for ages, but he wouldn't even hear of such a blasphemy, never mind consider it. Zuoji went to the lengths of marrying a dark-eyed foreigner, in order to conceive dark-eyed children who he and Ojii-sama would mold to their purposes. They've been tinkering with your destiny since before you were born, Daiki."

"Did… Did my mother know that?" Daiki asked, shocked.

"Yes. And for the 'greater good' her life was also destroyed. Because Zuoji felt nothing for her and never made a secret of it."

"Father was always very fond of Gihei," Daiki commented, stressing the name with a sour inflection.

"Because Gihei took after him," Jiro summarized with a humorless smile. "I remember when Zuoji, between proud and very angry, put his firstborn in my arms. And how I laughed when the baby peered up at me with those big red eyes of his. Gihei was useless to Ojii-sama's 'cause,' but he was Zuoji's spitting image."

"I, on the other hand…"

"You took after your mom. She was a beautiful, kind woman. I liked her very much; sometimes I think that I can hear her singing in the backyard. I always pray for her, then; ask her to look after us all."

Daiki wet his cut lips. "Yet… Yet, I can understand father's and Ojii-sama's distrust towards humans, Jiro-sama. We've suffered—"

"Not all of 'them' are monsters, Daiki. Not even all of your 'colleagues' are monsters. Is Eng Ho a monster?"

Silence.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Jiro whispered, and Daiki raised his bloodshot eyes to him. "It hurts to know. To question. It hurts."

Daiki flexed his hands, trying to conciliate everything he had heard. "Did you have any confirmation about Xie Dewei's dealings tonight?" he asked after a while, changing the thorny personal subjects to a more practical one.

"Yes," Jiro grunted. "As customary, our Head of the Council is entertaining guests for the Festival. And he has set his sights on grandiose profits this year. He intends to use the fear brought by the rumors of youkai cannibalism and violence to propose the creation of an integrated army in this region. Armed by him and trained by his officers. Basically, Xie Dewei is going to export his weapons and his force's extermination methods."

"Jiro-sama, what are we going to do?" In panic, Daiki bent over and seized his boots. "We must stop him! We must—"

Jiro laughed and approached him. "Aren't you curious about the contents of this box? Here, take it. It's yours."

Warily, Daiki accepted the gift and opened it.

Money.

Jiro was giving him money. Lots of it.

"I've sent a message to Yanan," Jiro said softly. "She's already packed and is waiting for you at her parents' workshop."

"What?" Daiki spluttered. "How did you…?"

"How did I know you would choose her?" Jiro grinned. "I didn't even need my chi. Your face lights up when she's around."

"Jiro-sama, I can't simply run away like a coward! I won't—"

"Look at the window, Daiki."

Daiki hesitated, but obeyed. What could be seen of the street was deserted. And the sky… The sky was growing black with smoke. "What the hell?"

"This disease," Jiro murmured. "This Madness… It's spreading and spreading fast. Right now, I don't know what's in store for any of us. Perhaps… Perhaps we'll finally have the epic battle Ojii-sama has longed for."

Daiki went to Jiro and extended the box to him. "It's my battle too, Jiro-sama. Take this back."

"No. Let Yanan be your battle, Daiki. Let life be your battle. You owe us nothing." Jiro leaned forward and brushed his lips on Daiki's forehead. "Just go. You have my blessing."

"Jiro-sama, I can't…"

"Go. It's my last order for you."

Confused, Daiki lingered in the room for a moment; then he left, carrying his boots and the box.

"Good-bye, my son," Jiro said. Then sat again at the vanity table and reached for the comb.

o o o

Zuoji found him there, in the same position, two hours later. "Gods, Ji-chan, why didn't you light the lanterns? It's dark in here!"

"I like the dark," came the muffled answer.

"There's fire in the youkai area, didn't you see it? Look through the window! Where's Daiki? I'm going to send him to his station to get us news—"

"He's gone."

"Where to? Did he—"

"He's gone for good. Won't come back." A pause and Jiro smiled, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Funny, ne? That's what Houchi said to me when he proposed we went away together: 'We'll be gone for good. Won't come back.' Then it was me who had to say that to him: 'She won't come back.' Over and over and over."

Zuoji froze and then went to rest both hands on Jiro's shoulders. "Hey. I know you're angry with me because of that stupid boy." He started a slow, careful massage. "But, damn, Ji-chan! What a time for him to arrive! I'm still horny."

"The world, as we know it, it's ending and you still want to have sex?"

"Yes," Zuoji said. "I would die gladly if I had my cock stuck in you." Jiro was totally unresponsive to the touch, so Zuoji dropped his hands. "What was he willing to tell me, anyway? What was so important?"

Jiro canted his head to the side. "I hate Ojii-sama, Zuoji. I hate that bastard. But I never wanted revenge. Killing him would not turn back time."

"Why think about that now?" Zuoji remarked, frustrated. "It's no longer important! As you said, our world is ending! Why bring this—"

"Because I stayed here, Zuoji. All these years, all these decades… I stayed here to try to prevent others from dying for Ojii-sama's whims. Now…" Jiro turned, his eyes aglow like embers in the dark room. "If my mind is gone… When my mind is gone… I won't have a conscience to tell me what's right or wrong. Then, Zuoji, with the last sparkle of will I'll have left, I'm going to kill him."

Zuoji stepped back, startled. "What… What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to kill Ojii-sama, Zuoji. And the best part?" Jiro unclenched his fingers and the comb clattered on the floor, its handle shattering. "I'm going to enjoy it."