Katsumi was attempting to devise a way to kill time without having to resort to the "I went to the shops and I bought…" game-which both he and Yoshiya detested but infrequently played because it meant they could have an argument and clear the air, normally over whether or not Katsumi was cheating by using product names-or the "so, tell me about your family/schooldays/sex life" type of conversation which also tended to end in arguments.
To this end he was attempting to remember all twenty-one verses of a horribly catchy song he'd learnt eight years ago at school and had last sung six years ago, but was getting repeatedly stuck on verse seventeen. After five minutes of thought he decided to abandon it as a lost cause and was wondering what to do next without waking Yoshiya-who had been asleep for almost half an hour now and got really irritated if people woke him up without a damn fine reason for doing so-when someone opened the door and said his name. He looked up in mild surprise.
Despite the fact that it wasn't really the done thing for someone in his position he said "What?" It came out a little angrier than he had intended. Not that he minded. He didn't want to be here anyway and really didn't care if people knew it.
Well, whatever it was they thought they were going to find out from him, they were going to end up disappointed. He wasn't going to tell them anything about his uncle and didn't know enough about the army to be a security risk anyway. So why not just let them ask? Whatever happened, it would help kill some time, and time was something he had to excess right now.
***
In a small, cramped office in the government building, Toshiyuki Takasaka was an anxious man. Like Izumi's bad temper, however, this was not really something extraordinary to comment on as it was more a description of his natural temperament than a sign that anything was the matter with his own little world. Takasaka gave the impression of being a man who lived inside his head most of the time, for whom the outside world was an irritation. He was a diligent worker, prone to panic over trivialities but well able to keep calm in emergencies. Physically he was unprepossessing-he was of slightly less than average height, had nondescript black hair, wore glasses and tended to dress soberly. Not exactly unusual attributes in government officials. He also had a slight resemblance to Hirose Nanjo, but got flustered if anyone mentioned it. More or less ignored by his co-workers, he was the kind of person who could, and would fit in anywhere and yet still manage to retain his anonymity.
But today he actually had a reason for his nervousness and its name was Eri Ijima.
Like Eri, Takasaka was working as a spy and had been active for the last six years. He was much better at his job than the blonde girl was and had only made one major slip-up during the whole time he had been in the country, which had fortunately gone undetected. He knew Eri was also a spy, but she didn't know he was. Takasaka had been relieved to find out that the girl-who seemed blissfully unaware of quite how mind-numbingly awful she actually was at her job-believed herself to be the only spy working in the government offices as this meant she was unlikely to be able to compromise his position.
He had been incredibly troubled to discover her Koji fixation (and her Koji scrapbook), and even more so to accidentally come across the poor soul carrying out "espionage" by rummaging through her boss' desk drawers to look for important documents. Feeling sorry for her, he had tidied the drawers up for her after she had left to hide her clumsy search. He'd retrieved the documents she'd left in the photocopier too, and had put them neatly back where they came from. A part of him felt he should offer her some advice, but he couldn't help without revealing his own position to her, something to be avoided at all costs considering what a totally awful job she was making of spying.
It was only a matter of time before Eri Ijima made a fatal mistake, and when that time came it would be all he could do to stop himself from being dragged down with her in the investigation that would no doubt follow. Takasaka had always had plans ready for escape should the secret police became interested in him-definitely a prudent move in light of the Eri crisis. He had no intention of ending up anywhere near Akihito Nanjo.
***
Takasaka's nervousness was not unfounded, for Eri had less time left than she realised.
It was unusual that Akihito Nanjo, as the head of the Secret Police, took an interest in small-time spies but he had to admit to being intrigued by Eri Ijima. He had no idea why such an incompetent spy had been sent out in the first place. Late one night last week he had come across her by accident whilst looking for Hirose in the government building-she had been wandering around the offices, looking, or so she claimed when he questioned her, for her handbag without which she couldn't get back into her apartment. He had helped her search for it and she had made several attempts to flirt with him, which had only earned her his total contempt. Akihito didn't care much for women in general and Eri was such a particularly annoying example of the breed.
His curiosity piqued by the strange encounter, the following evening Akihito had sat at the computer in his bedroom with a cup of coffee for company and hacked into the government computer system, which technically speaking he was not cleared to access-his father's mistrust of his second son's motives had put paid to that. Not that such matters as security clearance bothered him. He had a natural talent for using computers, and an even greater one for knowing just how to manipulate the system to get at what he wanted, and therefore found it easy to pull out Eri Ijima's personnel files. He had not expected his suspicions to be confirmed, but the vagueness of the information presented perturbed him. Everything was just a little too neat. He made the decision to find out more about Ijima, and had sat up well into the night finding out everything he could about the girl whilst the coffee went cold beside him. Whilst all the documents he discovered seemed to be in order if worryingly bland, the lack of information on her past and the irregular nature of the hours and company she kept led him to the conclusion that she was some kind of spy. And a pretty inept one at that.
He suddenly felt exhausted. Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of one hand, he printed a copy of all the documents he had found so that he or one of his subordinates could examine them at greater length, got up from the computer and looked at the clock. It was twenty past two in the morning. He hadn't noticed the time passing and he had some stupid council meeting in the morning… not that it mattered, he could sleep there, but Hirose might get cross. Well, he'd just have to risk it. Although he didn't like upsetting Hirose-and his falling asleep in supposedly important but quite stupendously dull meetings normally provoked criticism, although Akihito was able to sleep with his eyes open and escape detection that way-there were times when it just seemed inevitable. No matter what he did he seemed to upset someone, although he had long since stopped caring what the world thought of him. Akihito stretched, yawned and decided to go to bed. He wouldn't get much else done tonight no matter what.
Lying on one side in the dark he smiled to himself, secretly. The girl was so stupid it was unbelievable. She had not been even remotely worried by being approached in the office by a young man with a razor smile dressed in the smart black dress uniform of the secret policeman. Even if she hadn't lived in the country long she could hardly have failed to be aware of the activities of the secret police, could she? Really? And despite her obsession with Koji (well, how else to explain her tedious one-sided conversation revolving around Koji's love life?) and by extension the rest of the Nanjo family, she had failed to recognise him, something which had not insulted Akihito as he hated everyone except Hirose. He had no wish for some stupid girl who had too much time on her hands to bore him rigid with her pathetic theories on Koji, whom she appeared to want to marry, and if she had become aware that he knew Koji he would never have been able to get rid of her. Well, she'd soon change her tune if she actually met him.
Oh well. He decided he would let her carry on for a bit longer. He had given her enough rope and was sure she would find some ingenious way of hanging herself with it. She would implicate herself soon enough-saving his men the job of having to prove she was a spy-and when she did he would arrest her. She was so inept she posed very little threat to security. It was as simple as that. Acting sooner would have removed the problem, but why not wait? He knew who and where she was-let her think she was getting away with it. Besides, it would be funny to watch her.
Akihito had fallen asleep a contented man.
***
Yoshiya, who had been attempting to pass the time by doodling in his diary and not worrying about what had happened to Katsumi whilst he'd been asleep, was startled by the sound of footsteps. It wasn't time to eat yet, was it? He couldn't have fallen asleep again without realising it, surely? Glancing quickly at his wristwatch proved his point: it was four in the afternoon. Way too early to get anything to eat. Shame, he was very hungry. Lunch had been practically inedible and they hadn't been fed either last night or this morning. He didn't know why… retribution for some bombing raid or something, maybe. His side had done it so he had to suffer for it. Which was utterly ridiculous if you thought about it, as he couldn't possibly have had anything to do with it, but he knew he couldn't say his people were any better to their prisoners of war. No one was kind to prisoners of war; it appeared to be one of the natural laws of life.
Someone opening the door interrupted him in his thoughts. He sat bolt upright on his bed, suddenly alarmed, his diary falling unheeded to the floor. He didn't like the feeling of this at all. It was all wrong. He couldn't remember the last time that anyone had actually needed to open the door as opposed to just shove things through the flap… He really didn't like the direction his thoughts had taken and he hoped like crazy there was an innocent explanation for the door opening which he hadn't considered.
There wasn't one. Try as he might he couldn't think of one. There was certainly no innocent explanation for Katsumi's behaviour on being shoved roughly back into the cell. He'd fallen awkwardly onto his front as if he was hurt but after the door had been slammed, he'd got to his knees, turned and yelled an obscenity at the closed door then collapsed back to the floor and begun to cry quietly. It wasn't like him to swear-it was one of the things Katsumi just didn't do unless in circumstances of dire provocation-and although he'd been upset on a number of occasions Yoshiya had never seen him cry. It was a matter of pride with him.
Getting off the bed, he walked over to Katsumi and put one hand on the boy's shoulder. Katsumi stiffened then pulled away from his touch like he'd been burnt. He'd stopped crying. If it hadn't been so worrying Yoshiya would have laughed, it was such an overreaction. If Katsumi didn't want him to touch his shoulder than he could just ask, couldn't he?
Katsumi stayed where he was, resting his forehead on his arms and attempting to pull himself together, or if that was impossible to at least maintain the semblance of calm. He didn't feel up to facing Yoshiya yet, or Yoshiya's inevitable questions as to what had happened and why. He didn't even want to think about what had happened. Maybe then he could pretend that nothing had… and he was just going to have to pretend. There was no way he could tell Yoshiya. He wouldn't understand. But it wouldn't help to stay silent either, would it? It was just stupid to try to pretend nothing had happened…
Oh god. Why? What had he ever done? There had to be a reason. Katsumi felt sick. He wanted to be alone although the silence would have driven him mad. He wanted to talk to Yoshiya-wanted Yoshiya to look after him-although he knew he could never have that, not anymore. He wasn't worth Yoshiya's time. Why would Yoshiya want to waste his breath on talking to someone like himself? Could he even trust him? He wanted to kill someone, anyone, that bastard with brown hair. He wanted to die.
He wanted to die.
After the already uncomfortable and artificial silence between the two had stretched the tension in the room to breaking point, Yoshiya decided he should give it another go. He went to sit by Katsumi and, having exhausted the entertainment potential of his fingernails, begun to stare at the cracks on the ceiling. He hadn't felt this awkward since his sister had announced that she was engaged to his best friend. What on earth could he say? He felt he should speak but had no idea where to begin. There didn't appear to be anything to say which wouldn't sound grossly insensitive or totally stupid or both.
"Takafumi?"
Noticing Katsumi had begun to tremble, Yoshiya pulled him a little closer, but he had no idea if he was doing so to comfort Katsumi, or to comfort himself. He was afraid too, and what made it worse was that he didn't even know for sure what it was that he was frightened of.
***
After spending another fruitless day attempting to discover the whereabouts of the determinedly lost Katsumi-missing, presumed dead despite all the time and effort he had spent on trying to work out his whereabouts-Izumi was incredibly frustrated and was taking it out on his dinner and on the boy sat next to him.
"What the hell do they think I am, some kind of private detective?" Izumi asked angrily, reinforcing his point by slamming his cup down hard on the table, causing some liquid to slop out over the edges and form a small puddle around the base.
Kimie thought different-he'd heard enough about Katsumi over the last few days to realise that his uncle's position made him a danger to security. Katsumi may not have known anything of value about the war but unless he was very stupid he couldn't have failed to remember some of the things that he had heard during his lifetime. Some of which would be important. But to say so would have been conversational suicide and would have only have made Izumi angrier so once again Kimie resisted the urge to say what he thought and paused for a while to think of a way to reply.
Eventually he settled for "Surely it can't be that hard to find him?"
Izumi felt pretty strongly about the matter of conscription. As a regular he found some of the deadbeats he got landed with through compulsory service to be not only an irritation but also a total liability. They didn't know what they were doing, their commitment was minimal and they seldom, if ever, seemed intelligent. Most of the bright or resourceful conscripts were taken by the Air Force or if they were in the Army tended to ended up as non-combatants-like Kimie, who had ended up in the medical corps, or this Katsumi. The people who got posted into the army and over whom Izumi had command tended to have some kind of personality problem. Izumi himself had a personality problem, but if you mentioned it to him you could practically start counting your life expectancy in minutes.
***
"Koji!"
Koji had been standing in the middle of the snow-covered garden, watching a watery sun sink below the horizon which had been punctured in several places by the silhouettes of the ruinous skyscrapers, but on hearing his name called, he turned incuriously to discover who it was who was interrupting his thoughts. He wasn't at all surprised to see Akihito standing a short way behind him, dressed as ever in black and looking at him with an expression of undiluted hatred on his face.
Akihito had not been given his position, nor had he been taught surveillance techniques, in order that he should start spying on the members of his own family, but he knew Koji. He knew Koji's character, he suspected Koji's latent ambition. Koji was a danger to the state. To their family's name.
To Hirose.
Akihito had privately sworn never to let anybody hurt Hirose if it was at all within his power to stop it. He knew that Koji's behaviour caused Hirose a great deal of worry. He wouldn't let Koji keep on hurting Hirose the way he was. Koji couldn't carry on the way he was, it was wrong.
Koji smiled. Once he was in power he would get rid of Akihito. The man was tedious; he had always got in the way of everything and everybody. Koji and no real respect for his father but he felt that the old man's dislike of Akihito was just right and natural-it never occurred to him to think exactly what Akihito might feel about it.
Koji had no concept of family loyalty, anyway.
The two men looked at one another for a while, neither willing to break eye contact. Akihito unwilling to make even this small concession to the brother he detested, whom he felt was the cause of so many of his problems, Koji unprepared to give Akihito that satisfaction. Eventually Akihito tore his gaze away, muttering a curse under his breath, then turned on his heel and stalked off toward the house, a dark ink-stain on the white canvas of the garden.
