Chapter 24 : Sowing Seeds
(Thank you to my editors, Sunny, Restestsest, Mitch H. and MetalDragon. Thank you to Siatru for beta reading this chapter. And a big thank you to everybody on the AYGGW and the Tanya Writer's Discords for their help and support.)
APRIL 25, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
0655
"Good work leads to more work."
After three lives of hard work, that truth had become self-evident. Efficiency was always rewarded with more work, which was frankly understandable since people tended to bet on proven winners. My reward for surviving my watch on the Rhine had been command over a battalion destined for deployment to troubled zones until death or peace came; my reward for claiming Shinjuku was, for better and worse, becoming the authority in Shinjuku.
"You break it, you buy it," I thought gloomily, nodding my gratitude to Tanaka Chika as she refilled my cup with hot tea. Unlike her elder sister, the young Chika was a fairly happy-go-lucky person, always eager to find new ways to help out around the Rising Sun's Meeting Hall. It's a pity Inoue scooped her up first; I could use an aide or two.
Thankfully, I didn't have to handle my newly expanded workload all on my lonesome. Besides Chika, Inoue's backroom office was packed with people eagerly waiting for new assignments, courtesy of myself, Naoto, and Inoue. Below the murmur of side conversations between the assembled men and women, the rumble of feet and the clink of spoons on bowls drifted from the Hall's main room; breakfast was well underway, and as soon as I distributed assignments to the elected foremen, eager bodies with full bellies would set to work.
Eager or not, there's just not enough of them. The thought made me grimace, but it was the truth. Shinjuku Ghetto was home to somewhere around two hundred thousand men, women, and children, as near as anybody could guess without an official census. By contrast, the Kozuki Organization had just over a hundred full members, including the students undergoing training at The School.
Of course, that number didn't include the Sun Guard, the militia Naoto had assembled from the would-be recruits we couldn't immediately train, nor did it include noncombatants like Chika or Kasumi, Inoue's other assistant, who was currently occupied with overseeing the breakfast line. The Sun Guard numbered somewhere around a thousand five hundred but were under-equipped for the most part and entirely untrained.
Fortunately, I didn't need an army at the moment. What I needed was a workforce, and the Sun Guard had already been put to good use before during Naoto's Shinjuku Improvement project.
"Alright people," Naoto slammed a hand down on Inoue's desk, refocusing the room's attention on him. "Today's going to be just as busy as yesterday and the day before were, and I'm sure you're all eager to get to work. Before we start handing out assignments, I'd like to thank you and your crews once again; you're doing good work, hard work, and you're doing it quickly and efficiently. We're all pulling together, and I'm honored to have your help."
Smiles and nods filled the crowded room, and a few wags in the crowd responded with the typical lame jokes, which received the requisite laughter and a few witty replies from Naoto.
It's amazing, I reflected, how easily he wins them over. It's the first thing in the morning, but everybody is lined up happily waiting for their assignments. He'd have made a splendid manager, back in my first life. Back in a sane world.
Pulling myself back to the present, I picked up the list of assignments from the table beside me before climbing up on top of the stained wooden surface. I'd long since come to terms with my height and I usually had no problem handing out orders to people several heads taller, but the room was full of enough adult-sized people that I wanted at least a little room to breathe.
"Line up over here!" I instructed, pointing at the space I'd just occupied. "When I hand you your mission, don't just stand around; hurry up and get out of the way of the next person!"
"Heya there, Miss Hajime." The first man to step forwards had an easy grin, seemingly unaffected by the angry red scar that slashed up from his chin to his temple. From my experience on the rubble hauling work crews, I recognized it as the mark left behind when an overstrained cable snaps and lashes out. This man had been extremely lucky to have only been grazed. "What've you got for me 'n the boys today?"
"Mister Iwane, right?" I asked out of habit, already scanning the crowded list for the notation in Inoue's tidy hand indicating where the former masonry worker and his team should go. "You'll be over in Kawadacho today. I want you to take your usual crew and twenty others over to the old Wakamatsu station. Get the new hands working on clearing the platforms while your experienced men start checking the stability of the service tunnels."
Kawadacho, located just east of the central Shinjuku Ghetto and stretching south to the encircling wall, had belonged to the Eleven Lords up until very recently. They'd controlled the access leading to the Kawadacho Checkpoint with an iron fist, which was probably why they had so brazenly operated a slave brothel catering to deviants who wouldn't be welcome in more respectable quarters.
Sadly, liberating the territory from the gang's abuses would only be the first step on the path to recovery for the sector and its long-suffering inhabitants. Utterly untouched by the Shinjuku Improvement project, the area's infrastructure was crumbling and many of its buildings were husks barely capable of providing worthwhile shelter.
Even worse, directly to the west of southern Kawadacho was the dumping area, where the hauler crews left Shinjuku's garbage and its dead in the vast dumpsters the Britannians had provided for that purpose. Those dumpsters were only replaced on a two or three-month basis, which meant that the area swarmed with vermin feasting on the waste, consequently severely impacting public health in south Shinjuku.
Taken together, Kawadacho was only a few short steps over a total wasteland, but abandoning the district wasn't a viable option. Living space in Shinjuku came at a premium, after all, and most of the buildings that weren't already crammed with families were just as dubious in terms of shelter as the skeletal remains of the Tokyo Women's Medical University Hospital that stood like a tombstone at the northern end of Kawadacho.
"Going down into the tunnels, eh?" Mister Iwane scratched at his head, before pulling a sweat-stained rag from his back pocket and tying it around his forehead. "Alright, sounds good. Let's see if we can get the whole of the old station cleared out by sunset!"
"No need to strain yourself; the rubble's not going anywhere." While the man's passion for his task was a credit to his diligence, medical supplies were in frightfully short supply. The last thing I needed were working hands laid low by easily preventable workplace injuries. "Also, keep an eye open for rats. I imagine there's quite a few waiting down in the station."
"Good," the masonry worker, an experienced old hand in his late twenties, grinned up at me. "Me and the boys could use some extra protein!"
I waved him out with exasperated exhaustion that might have been partially faked and turned to the next job seeker. I blinked, searching for some memory of the squat, surprisingly broad woman who looked to be in her late forties, comparatively ancient by Shinjuku standards.
"I don't think I've met you before," I said after a moment when I failed to put a name to the face, "have you worked with us before?"
"Uh-huh." The woman grunted through yellowed lips, rheumy eyes watering with exhaustion looking up at me momentarily, before closing as she yawned. "Too damned early for all this line crap, but yeah."
Clearly not a morning person, I thought sympathetically. While I'd rarely had a problem waking up early, I certainly wouldn't want to face the day without some of the coffee Naoto had been kind enough to stock up our apartment with. I'll try to give her an easy task.
Before I could get her name, Naoto broke into the conversation. "Ah, Tanya, you don't need to worry about her. She's going to be with my team." Naoto grimaced for a moment, before turning and smiling at the woman. "Good morning, Missus Matsukawa. Got your boning knives today?"
The woman grunted something indecipherable before moving off with Naoto towards the doorway of the office. I shrugged and beckoned the next person forwards. Naoto had volunteered yesterday to handle the disposal of the two hundred and eighty-one bodies left in the wake of our operation and had put out the call for people with experience as butchers or slaughterhouse workers. Presumably, the woman had been one of those.
That particular task was a priority, especially since eighty-nine of those bodies were Britannian. At first, I had planned to leave them where they lay to convince the Britannians that some outside faction had engaged in hit-and-run attacks on the gang locations independent of the local people of Shinjuku. Of course, that idea had been part of a larger plan that had succumbed to resistance from an unanticipated source, Diethard Reid.
To my surprise, Diethard had flatly declined to run the story about Britannians running shady criminal operations in the Ghetto.
"It's not enough," he'd explained via Kallen's phone the afternoon after the raids. "I warned you that you'd need a smoking gun if you really wanted to accomplish anything, and this isn't it. I joined to see history being made, but I can guarantee this whole thing would blow over in a week, two tops. Clovis would get to demand some extra gifts, a few offices would change hands, and I'd probably be helped out a window or down a flight of stairs.
"Until you can get something more substantive," the irritating producer had concluded, "something that names big names, not just names next to big names, I'm not running it. Face it, the Britannian audience isn't going to care about tax dodges and weeping Elevens. Come back when you've got something that adds up to more than a slap on the wrist."
The prospect of overruling him had been extremely tempting, but I'd forced my initial frustration down after curtly telling Diethard that I'd call him back. Kallen had been gratifyingly indignant on my behalf, freely vocalizing my anger at the impudent man for me.
"I agree completely," I'd said, smiling at Kallen, who'd truly been a sight for sore eyes even with the sweat rolling down her face from our hand-to-hand training session. "Mister Reid is unquestionably an ass, and it would be incredibly satisfying to decorate a wall with the contents of his skull. Unfortunately, forcing him into submission would be a losing game; besides, he might actually have a point."
"A point?" Kallen's reply had been openly incredulous. "The whole point of the operation was getting all that dirty laundry, right? The goal was to make the Brits rip themselves to pieces! If that bastard's not gonna do it, what was the point?"
"Well, for one thing, we successfully rescued two hundred and fifty-six women and children from the gangs." Despite my mild tone, Kallen had winced. I hadn't meant it as a rebuke, but she'd clearly taken it as such. "But he does have a point. One way or another, almost a hundred Britannians died in Shinjuku. If that becomes public knowledge, even if we aren't implicated, the possibility of another unanticipated outburst like the Christmas Incident remains."
Kallen had paled at the reminder and nodded her understanding. "Yeah… Well, I guess we did get something. No need to be greedy, even if it does leave a bad taste in my mouth, letting that piece of shit tell us what to do."
"It's all about the give and take," I'd continued as we went back into the circle chalked on the training mats, "While we could destroy each other, him being broken as a traitor benefits us as little as our mass execution benefits him. Twisting his arm won't do anything to benefit Japan. On the other hand, letting him run the stories he wants could benefit us both in the long run, advancing the Cause. Now, let's work on your grapple again."
And so for now, the secrets we had purchased with blood and bullets would remain secret. Perhaps they would enter the public sphere in the future, or perhaps they would eventually benefit the Cause by way of blackmail.
Another person stepped up into the small patch of empty space at the foot of my table with a chirpy "Good morning, Commander!"
I narrowed my eyes at the insufferably energetic boy – and a boy he was, even if he was at least three years my senior. The last one was almost sleepwalking, and this guy is practically exploding out of his shoes. A pity the energy levels aren't distributed more equally.
"Good morning, Takahiro," I replied, resisting the urge to bark at the youth to wipe the stupid grin off his face. "You seem quite energetic this morning. I expect you to channel that vigor toward your work today, understand? More shoveling, less flexing in front of Rin and Miyu today."
"No worries, Commander!" Takahiro said, eyes bright and utterly devoid of shame, grin widening as the room broke into rueful and sympathetic laughter. "I'm gonna shovel up so much garbage that my biceps will get huge in no time! That way, I won't need to flex in front of the girls – I'll have one on each arm, enjoying the gun show up close!"
The room exploded into laughter, only some of it lecherous, at the lame joke. One of the men clustered around the table clapped Takahiro on the shoulder. In a more regimented setting, in a different life, I'd have had Takahiro down on the floor giving me pushups until his vaunted biceps quivered with exhaustion; here in a volunteer organization that relied on high morale to maintain group cohesion, I rewarded the attempt at humor with a raised brow.
As far as stimulants go, at least bad jokes are cheaper than coffee. Even the crap sold as store-brand instant, which… is admittedly still pricey, if you factor in the risks inherent in smuggling bulk goods into Shinjuku.
I allowed things to quiet down before responding. "Congratulations, Takahiro," I started with a smile even I'd categorize as threatening, "for volunteering your and your crew's services as haulers for the day. There's no shortage of garbage in need of urgent disposal, including lots of nice heavy building rubble. Go see Nagata for the keys to the dump truck."
I hesitated, and then relented and opted to show the boy some mercy. It would have felt like kicking a puppy otherwise. "Feel free to drag your friends into it as well. After all, a job shared is a job halved, and I'm sure they'll appreciate the experience of carrying your burdens."
"You bet! Thanks, Tanya!" The little shit's grin somehow got even wider as he gave me a sloppy salute. "You'll never see streets as clean as they're gonna be by dinner time tonight!"
"...I'm sure" I pointed at the door with an unimpressed look. "But if you have enough free time to keep dawdling around here, I might have you put it to work cleaning the sewers too."
That finally got a reaction out of the kid as he hurried out the door just as a grizzled man stepped up to take his place.
"Alright," I turned back to my list, "I've got you on loading duty, Mister Yanagawa. I need you to take ten people and go find Nagata, and he'll tell you which boxes he needs you to load for the various lunch lines. Once the lunch prep is over, head to Kuyakusho Road and assist the road crew. There's plenty of potholes to be filled, and someone needs to shovel the gravel."
The process continued for another twenty minutes until the last of the crew leaders closed the office door behind them as they left to find available hands, cutting off the dwindling sounds of breakfast. I hopped down from the table and dropped the assignment list, ticking off the first of many items from my internal list for the day with a sigh.
From behind her desk, Inoue looked up and shot me a sympathetic look. "Another day of fun and games, huh?"
"Don't I know it," I groused, stretching until I felt my back pop. "And not swatting Takahiro was probably the easiest item on my list today. Not swatting the old bastards in Kyoto is going to be far more taxing, even if they're technically too far away to hit."
"I'm sure you'd manage to find a way if they'd really earned it," Inoue reassured me, before turning back to her paperwork. "You are the reigning queen of ambushes, after all."
"Don't let Major Onoda hear you say that," I replied, ignoring the warmth in my cheeks at the compliment from a highly respected comrade, "he's bad enough without such a grievous personal slight lighting a fire under him."
"Go make your phone call," Inoue snorted, "and quit hovering. You're distracting me from my paperwork."
Resisting the urge to make a scathing parting remark – I was not hovering, no matter what Inoue said – I bid the Organization's quartermaster goodbye and made my way back to the apartment. Despite the short trip, every step I took was shadowed by Morihisa and Shuzo, sometimes known as Boar and Mallet, my assigned guards for the day.
Naoto had pushed for round-the-clock guard assignments after my speech, pointing out that my profile was now high enough that surviving gang members might specifically target me for retaliatory attacks. I hadn't protested – if a fight broke out, I'd want backup on hand, and since I'd helped train the pair I had no doubts about their competence.
As expected, no gangers lay in wait in the building's lobby nor on the staircase, and Morihasa and Shuzo took up their usual positions bracketing the door as I stepped into the apartment that had somehow become home to me over the last seven months.
The burner phone, delivered to me via a figurative railroad of hands that terminated with Nagata, who had passed it to me this morning along with the note specifying the time of the call, had only a single number saved in its list of contacts. I took a moment to spin up my enhancement suite, more as a calming mechanism than out of a serious belief that I was in imminent physical danger, and dialed the lone contact.
The phone on the other end of the line rang once, and then I heard an unfortunately familiar voice, just as dispassionate as I'd remembered, greet me. "Hello, Miss Hawthorne. You've had quite the eventful week, haven't you?"
"Hello," I greeted the man from Kyoto, "I would like to say that it's a pleasure to hear from you again. I will thank you for your advice, the last time we spoke; Major Onoda has been quite the boon to this Organization. Your facilitation is thoroughly appreciated. And yes, I have been very busy of late. Spring is the time for new beginnings, isn't it?"
"Quite," the droll voice replied, "although you could argue that every beginning entails the ending of what came before. In particular, it seems like the recent collapse of the organized underworld in Shinjuku has effectively brought an end to several potentially lucrative opportunities."
"Quite the tragic development for many, I'm sure," I said, affecting a disinterested air; the preliminaries were seemingly over, which meant it was time for negotiations to begin in earnest. "That said, I personally have little sympathy for drug peddlers and less for human traffickers. It's quite amusing, in a way: I'm sitting on a literal ton of amphetamines and other goodies, and I have no use for any of it. Frankly, I'd be tempted to tip it all into Tokyo Bay if I wasn't so worried about the environmental impact."
"How unfortunate," the man from Kyoto said, voice as dry as a desert, "but based on my understanding, it's not only the ready-to-ship product taking up your storage space, is it?"
"You have good sources," I smiled joylessly, baring my teeth at the wall, "you are quite well informed. Yes, Mister Kozuki was able to handle the guards and the floor manager before they could attempt any sabotage. As a consequence, we have come into possession of a large amount of chemicals that could presumably be processed into Ice with the help of some industrial lab equipment. Which we also have, and would love to see gone."
"I see, I see…" I could hear a pen scratching against paper as the representative of the SIx Houses muttered. "Hmm… Well, I suppose that could be of some minor interest to my managers. It would cut down on the cost of setting up a new laboratory from scratch, although transportation would be an issue, I suppose…"
"As you remarked during our first meeting, the maglev is a highly convenient method of transport, particularly now that direct services run between the greater Kanto area and Kyoto." My smirk was definitely coming through my voice, but I didn't try to hide it. I had the leverage here, and two-bit bargaining stratagems wouldn't work on me. "I'm sure your masters will have little trouble finding eager hands to help you ship your goods, especially if you pay in specie."
"Trade is the lifeblood of our enterprise; I am sure my employers would be happy to properly compensate any individuals or groups in Shinjuku willing to prove themselves helpful." The mild statement was a poor veil for the threat to sponsor potential rivals for control over Shinjuku. While that had been a concern during past negotiations, things had changed despite the wealth and influence the Six Houses could still bring to bear.
After all, it's hard to have much moral authority when you refuse to get your hands dirty.
"I'd be happy to provide a list of hard workers, free of charge. Think of it as a gesture of friendship." They would all be quite loyal workers as well – loyal to me. Hopefully, that would reduce the number of new spies whoever Kyoto sent managed to recruit. "In fact, as a further friendly gesture, I'll let you know that we recovered more than just a ton of meth from the lab. It turns out that production did not take up the whole warehouse, leaving the remainder to serve its original role as storage space."
"Oh? Well, good for you, I suppose." The man from Kyoto's bland voice slipped into a disinterest so profound it had to be feigned. "I don't suppose they were just storing extra tires, were they?"
"Nothing so useful," I scoffed, "in fact, nothing remotely useful at all. At least amphetamines have some medical use. Refrain, on the other hand, is just entirely useless to any but the most depraved or the most degraded."
"Refrain?" The waver in the man's voice was barely there, just the smallest of hitches in his voice. I likely would have never noticed had my enhancement suite not overclocked my brain. "How… Peculiar. And potentially valuable. That said, we aren't interested in any petty exchanges. How much product did you recover?"
"One of my associates estimates roughly four hundred thousand doses, already packaged in vials for distribution," I casually passed on Tamaki's estimate with all of the interest of a waiter reciting the daily specials. The enthusiasm that sold my message to the people wouldn't work here; instead, I needed to be as relentlessly and obviously bored as possible to really make my products seem worthwhile. "I think there's a few injector guns included too."
For a moment, the line was silent except for the slow, heavy breathing of the man from Kyoto, barely audible even with my hearing boosted to superhuman levels. Then, with an admirable attempt at a bored affectation, "Four hundred thousand doses, already packaged for sale, you say?"
"At least for distribution," I replied with a shrug. "And all of them completely useless, at least for me. You wouldn't happen to have any interest in almost half a million vials of Refrain, would you? I know that pharmaceuticals are outside of the two primary industries your group dabbles in, but…"
"I'm sure we could find a use for such an asset," the cultivated disinterest had returned to the man from Kyoto's voice, bland as beige. It was almost convincing. "Not that we particularly need to expand at present; business is good, after all. But in such uncertain times, it's good to diversify."
"Of course," I readily agreed, "and times are hard indeed. I wouldn't want to overly impact your organization or the good work you do. In the spirit of mutual cooperation that has marked our relationship so far, I will keep my requests modest. Four hundred thousand kilograms of lentils or beans, four hundred thousand kilograms of rice or other cereals, one hundred thousand kilograms of soy, fifty thousand kilograms of salt, and fifty thousand liters of vegetable oil. Also, four pallets of vitamin supplements. Preferably the five-hundred count bottles."
"Impossible." The man from Kyoto snapped, mildly irritated. "It can't be done. What do you even need a thousand tons of dry goods for anyway?"
"You might not realize," I began, choosing my words with care, "that outside of Kyoto, virtually every Number in Japan balances on the ragged edge of starvation, and that chronic malnutrition is the order of the day. I understand that your organization prioritizes armed confrontation, as is your prerogative as weapon manufacturers and industrialists, but please understand that a man weakened by hunger is an ineffective fighter at best, and a rotting corpse at worst."
"The general food insecurity of the Eleven population isn't exactly a great secret," the representative replied snippily, "but you're asking for too much. Several trainloads of food arriving in Shinjuku is far more difficult to hide than a few truckloads of our finest merchandise."
"Then don't make it a secret," I felt a familiar smile, a professional smile, spread across my face. I had him on the ropes if he was making such weak excuses. "Flaunt it instead. Make it an open donation. The Rising Sun Benevolent Association is an officially registered charity, complete with a noble charter. I'm sure they would love a donation from the Numbers Advisory Council, and I'm sure your masters would love some good PR for once. We'll even send a thank you card."
"...Audacious as always," remarked the gray man, "but audacity sometimes triumphs. I will pass your proposal on to the board – I'm reasonably certain that at least one of them would be eager to champion your terms. Now, unless there's anything else…?"
"There is, in fact," I broke in, "I'd like to place an order from your more standard catalog."
"Oh? Interested in some bullets to accompany the beans?" The dry voice spoke of mild amusement at an old and familiar joke, almost a private ritual.
"Indeed, and bandages too." I pulled the scribbled list of figures from my pocket. For all that Naoto had noble education under his belt, his handwriting was still nearly illegible. "First, let me point out that the estimated value, as best as I could figure, for one point two tons of unadulterated meth is one point eight million pounds. You owe me, and that's not even counting the additional value of the Refrain, about four hundred and eighty thousand pounds."
"Careful now, Miss Hawthorne," the dry voice was like a fingernail lightly rasping across the skin of my ear. "Be very careful. Wholesale deals are quite tricky, after all. Come now, be honest – you don't have any other options besides us, do you? No need to ruin a deal that could keep every mouth in Shinjuku fed for at least a few weeks, depending on how strictly you ration it."
"You are definitely my preferred purchaser, but you are far from the only interested party." I'd come prepared for this sticking point in particular. I'd known that the old bastards in Kyoto would do their best to inflict an unequal deal if I didn't push for every inch, and their representative had acted exactly as I'd expected.
"For one," I briskly continued, "I could sell the material back to the Britannians. I'd need an intermediary, but I already have one lined up. The Chinese would be more tricky, mostly due to the transportation issues, but I'd be willing to give them a discount on account of the oceanic shipping; I'm not unreasonable, and neither are my expectations."
This was half a bluff on my part. I had little doubt that Diethard could find a whole series of buyers interested in retailing amphetamines, but it was unlikely he'd be willing to act as the Britannian face for a wholesale distribution operation. The Chinese were an even longer reach, although I had little doubt that the superpower across the Sea of Japan had seeded agents in every Eleven ghetto near a port. It would take longer to find a broker, but it was still plausible.
Half a bluff or not though, I was still confident in my abilities to sell this deal to Kyoto House. And… Even if I didn't manage to close the deal, my willingness to bow and scrape for the collaborators in the ancient capital was practically spent. Their testing mission had led to a bloodbath, they had deliberately tried to put a stumbling block in my path via Onoda, and they had forced me to sell my organization's services to the JLF in exchange for basic supplies.
There will be, I swore to myself, a reckoning. Japan will be independent with or without these Honorary parasites, and fairweather friends will not be spared the rope if examples prove necessary. If they can't or won't help us now, then they are Britannians in all but blood.
A minute passed in silence, and then another. Digging for every scrap of information I could find, I tuned my enhancement suite to boost my hearing yet further still. Over the line, I could still hear the rhythmic breathing of the man from Kyoto, accompanied by the ever-so-faint periodic scratching of pen on paper.
There must be someone else in the room with him, I realized. He's the mouthpiece, but they're passing notes and giving him his instructions.
"My schedule is quite cramped today," I said, breaking the silence, "and I know you're not alone. I also know that you were sufficiently expendable to be sent to a low-level meeting in the Tokyo Settlement. If you cannot make a decision, kindly pass the phone over to someone who can."
The regular breaths stilled, and for a moment I wondered if I'd gone too far. Then, a moment later, another voice came onto the line.
"Hajime Tanya… I've heard surprisingly much about you…" The new voice was robust, but a quaver betrayed this second stranger's advanced age. "Some have started calling you the Savior of Shinjuku… Others whisper that you have the blessing of the kami and that the dust and wind disguise your appearance and conceal your footfalls… Quite remarkable rumors for a hafu who can't even claim to be a teenager…"
"I've never claimed to be a savior," I replied, keeping the anger at that old familiar slur from my voice as I balled my free hand into a fist, "nor do I claim divine blessing. I will, however, claim my identity as Japanese, no matter what color my eyes are or who my father was. Indeed, I've never been anything but Japanese, something that I doubt you can say no matter how black your hair is."
"They say you're quite the passionate one…" The elderly voice chuckled into the line, "and that rumor at the very least is true… Perhaps the other ones are too… After all, a thousand tons of foodstuffs would feed every mouth in Shinjuku…"
"But only for a few days, perhaps two weeks if everybody got a single meal a day," I cut in, "and as far as I can tell, the approximate value of the food would only come to a hundred and eighty thousand pounds, plus shipping. The pharmaceuticals I've got are easily worth twelve times that amount. I fully anticipate that you will come out ahead in our dealings, but I won't be fobbed off with a pittance while the city around me starves."
"Passionate indeed… Perhaps too much… Don't push me, girl. I've buried better than you." The musing tone and geriatric cadence abruptly switched to a rough, almost ursine growl. "You're good, but you're not special. You have a talent for organization, but you are arrogant as well, arrogant and easily baited. Young blood might run hot, but a loose tongue will see you broken on a wheel if left uncontrolled."
The familiar grandstanding of the old, powerful, and complacent. I snarled internally. As if I didn't already know that my entire life is spent dancing on the edge of a knife?
"Threats are meaningless unless backed by action," I riposted, entirely unimpressed with the old codger's threats, "and I have yet to see anything from you or your House that indicates the necessary testicular fortitude to follow through. You are powerful, I admit, powerful and rich, but the sharpest sword is useless in hands too weak to lift it."
I stopped myself before I could truly let my rage take me. Collaborators or not, they are still useful. No need to burn bridges before I've crossed them.
"But," I injected a conciliatory note into my voice, "we truly are on the same side, aren't we? The ultimate aim of the Six Houses is the liberation of Japan, for what else would justify the willful endangerment of your cushy positions in the Britannian Administration? I have the same goal. And, while I respect how you and yours have kept the hearth-fire of Japanese freedom banked through these bitter years, the times are changing. Can't you feel it in the wind? The status quo has been dead for almost four months now."
"Liberation doesn't mean the same thing to everybody," the quavering voice remarked, "and there are many different possible Japans that could rise from the embers if that happy day ever truly comes. The enemy of my enemy is not my friend, no matter how similar our goals may be."
"True enough," I acknowledged, "but no matter what Japan the future might hold, a land empty of its people is a hollow victory at best. At this moment, my primary concern is keeping as many of our people alive as possible. Whoever pushes the Britannians off our sacred shores will need strong backs and full bellies to rebuild a nation once again. Surely we can find common ground over that shared goal?"
"Indeed," the man on the other end of the line grumbled, cadence slowing down once more. "But people will remember who brought them food… Gratitude is fleeting as far as coins go… But it buys power… At least as long as the bellies are full…"
"You can take the credit." The answer was obvious; it was absurd that this was even an issue. "I already told your man that the Rising Sun would happily send a thank you card for your 'donation' of food. I meant that sincerely; if you are willing to sell and ship food to Shinjuku, you are free to take the credit as publicly as you wish. I would be willing to praise your name in the Meeting Hall if that would help ease your worries."
"Hmph…" The voice wavered indecisively, the aged quaver strengthening as the thoughtful hum dragged on. "Well… What else were you going to ask for…? Out with it. Let's hear what you have to say…"
"Two more shipments of the same composition and value, to be shipped at your cost," I replied promptly, "which would come to about five hundred and forty thousand pounds in total.
"Further, I have two lists of further inventory items, one of construction materials and some tools, the other of your usual stock in trade, namely munitions." I loosened my tightly clenched fist, flexing my fingers to try to get the pins and needles of impacted circulation out. "I wouldn't want to bore you by reading them out in full, so I will deliver them via your agent, Asahara, instead. There's nothing overly exotic on either."
"And the total…?" The old man's voice had relaxed a bit too, just slightly. The firm tone typical to hardball negotiators the world over was still present, but the fire had banked. "Come on, girl, I know you have it. You've had every other number on hand…"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds for the construction equipment and tools, four hundred thousand pounds for the weapons," I smoothly replied, quickly consulting Naoto's notes. "Together with the food shipments, that's a total of one million, three hundred and ninety thousand pounds. Deducted from the estimated value of the drugs, Kyoto House stands to profit by eight hundred and ninety thousand pounds, complete with favorable PR."
"Done," the old man barked, some of the vigor returning to his voice, "contingent on the reception of your lists and the verification of the estimated prices, and contingent on an analysis of the product's purity conducted by our personnel."
"I accept," I said, the words sweet on my tongue. If I were back in the Japan of my first life, I would have been raked over the coals for agreeing to such a lopsided deal. Here, at the head of a comparatively powerless insurrectionary body, I was just happy that negotiations had been civilized for once.
I didn't even need to kill anybody this time! Perhaps even the old bastards can learn!
"Good… Good…" The vigor faded, leaving a tired old man behind once more. "We'll be in touch soon… Hajime Tanya… I will be watching your career with interest… Take care…"
"And you as well, Mister Kyoto," the typical pleasantry sliding effortlessly off my tongue as I relaxed at the familiar ritual marking the end of a business call. "And long live Japan."
A minute hesitation, and then a murmured voice replied. "Long live Japan, and long live the Imperial Family. Revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians."
And with that, the phone went dead in my hand. I dropped it on the battered old table and collapsed down onto Oghi's bunk, suddenly exhausted.
I had done it.
I had secured possibly the most important deal of my life. There would be food for a while, long enough for arms to grow strong and for minds to focus beyond aching bellies. And in those minds, at least for a while, Japan would live on for just a little while longer.
APRIL 26, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1235
"-and I met with the technician Kyoto House dispatched to evaluate the purity and quantity of the samples this morning." I stopped to take a bite of my bean soup, helping the spoonful of lentils down with a quick sip of water. "Happily, he had no complaints about either."
"So, that's it then, right?" asked Naoto from the end of the table. "The deal's done?"
"That's right," I confirmed, "and judging by how surprised Kyoto's man was, the quality of the product was quite high. Which," I continued contemplatively, "probably means that the Six Houses got an even better deal out of this than they'd anticipated."
"Well, hopefully, they'll put at least some of that money back into helping Japan," Inoue said, although she didn't sound particularly optimistic. "But even if they don't, a windfall like that might make negotiations easier the next time around."
"Assuming this doesn't all blow up in our faces somehow," I replied, trying not to sound too dour. "For all we know, a major 'donation' from a third party will give Clovis, or somebody close to him, an excuse to end the food dole. After all, Elevens don't need to eat that much, right? And ClovisLand North isn't going to pay for itself."
Early on in his reign as Area Eleven's Viceregal-Governor, Prince Clovis had proclaimed that nobody would starve under his benevolent leadership. While the Britannian press had lauded the prince's "fair but firm paternalistic heart" to the skies, it had been blatantly obvious to everybody that some form of food aid was necessary if the Area wanted a workforce after the mass starvation during the first year after the Conquest.
To accomplish the lofty goal of ending starvation in Area Eleven, Clovis had instituted a food distribution program in the urban ghettos across the Area. Like most things Britannian, the program had been poorly thought-out and rife with corruption. The food deliveries came irregularly, and the food that ended up in Shinjuku was far too little and often already rotten by the time it arrived. Much of it also fell into the hands of local gangs and petty warlords.
In spite of the mismanagement and cut corners, the program had worked as intended. Crews of hollow-cheeked workers overseen by better-fed Honorary Britannians had built the Britannian Concession and the ever-expanding Tokyo Settlement. Hungry workers with just enough calories to survive a day's hard labor had stepped up for the chance to work in poorly managed and incredibly unsafe manufacturies, at the constantly busy docks, and on innumerable job sites.
Of course, the work crews had never been acknowledged for their hard labor. The Britannians credited the speedy rise of their abomination of a city to their civilianized construction KMFs, the great machines strengthening the foundations of the empire on and off the battlefield. While the construction Knightmares had proven invaluable, without the efforts of tens of thousands of Elevens, the Concession that loomed over Tokyo on massive stilt-like supports would still be decades in the future.
But, the food had kept the Ghetto alive too, even as the Concession rose and the Settlement spread. Indeed, the ingredients in the soup I had purchased with my labor during the years between the Conquest and the death of my mother had come from that dole. The fact that I had been practically a walking skeleton when I met Ohgi and Naoto spoke volumes about the food program's efficacy, but the same could be said for the fact that I was alive to meet them at all.
"If the Prince is going to halt the distribution over something so petty, then it was always going to happen some time or another," Souichiro said, speaking up for the first time since our working lunch had begun. "That being said, I don't know how I feel about turning to… Honoraries… to keep us alive. I understand that we don't have a choice, but…"
"Food is food," Naoto opined with a shrug, "and these particular Honoraries are the same ones funding the JLF. They really are the best option, for now at least."
"For now," Souichiro reluctantly agreed. "I still don't like it, though."
"I like starving to death less." I gestured with my spoon. Predictably, the grumbling ceased at the reminder of the most likely alternative. Pride and ideological purity couldn't fill empty stomachs, after all.
"Moving on to the next topic," I pushed the empty bowl away from me, "Inoue, how is the reunion plan going?"
"Mixed results, I'd say," the logistics officer replied, "we've managed to find a few of the girls' families, but, well… Most of them don't really have families. Not anymore. Some of them might still have relatives in Saitama, but unless we load them on a truck and have Nagata drive them over for a visit…"
"I understand," I said, closing my eyes as I thought for a moment. I had put Inoue in charge of the slaves we had liberated during the raids, and she had delegated the task to Kasumi, her assistant and a former slave liberated from a gang herself. Kasumi had spent the last three days working herself to the bone to find surviving relatives to place the women and girls with, but it sounded like efforts had stalled out.
"I suppose we could hand them over to Chihiro," Naoto said, voice slow and full of reservation. The unspoken "but…" hung heavily over the table. "I mean, she has taken care of most of the rest…"
"Chihiro is already unstable," I replied firmly, "and I am increasingly dubious of her value to the Organization. She was intoxicated when I last met with her in the middle of the day and was both insubordinate and insulting. I would rather relieve her of command than entrust two hundred vulnerable people into her care."
"I agree with Tanya. Chihiro's recent behavior has been deplorable." Inoue's voice was hard and heated. "I understand that she's grieving, but we've all lost people and Makoto died weeks ago. If she can't handle loss without going to pieces, we can't let her stay a leader, especially not if she's becoming a drunk."
"Well, if we're not dumping them into Chihiro's lap, what are we going to do with them?" Naoto's tone was carefully neutral, although I doubted he had any more love for Chihiro than I did; she had never bothered to hide her antipathy for his mixed heritage any more than she had her feelings about mine. "Things are hard enough as is in Shinjuku without our own miniature refugee crisis."
"Break them up into groups of ten, with each group consisting of women of roughly the same age?" I suggested, turning to look at Naoto. "The adult groups can be distributed throughout the Rising Sun's area of control – ask the Council for volunteers to host them, and let them know that they'll get bonus rations for hosting. The children," I hesitated, "the children can stay in vacant apartments in our building. There are at least a few units empty, I think."
"Delegation, huh?" Naoto smiled knowingly. "Can't say I'm surprised. I'll raise the matter at the meeting at sixteen hundred."
"Fine. I think that's all of our outstanding business handled, yes?" I drummed my fingers quickly, scanning the other three faces around the table. "Alright. Let's get to why I called you here today."
"Besides the food?" Inoue grinned as she licked her spoon clean. "I thought you just wanted to share a meal with us, Tanya! I am hurt to hear that you had something else in mind!"
"You'll survive," I dryly replied in the face of snickers from Naoto and Inoue and a single muffled cough from Souichiro. "More to the point, we need to start thinking on a bigger scale. The deal with Kyoto is part of that, but even in that case we're still thinking too small."
"A million pounds worth of food is too small, huh?" Naoto asked as he leaned back in his chair, the question clearly rhetorical. "No, I get what you mean. Half a million kilograms of food isn't very big, not when you're talking about a city."
"That's right," I agreed. "Let's talk about scale. At the moment, the Kozuki Organization itself has, in total, just over a hundred members, most of whom are still undergoing training at The School. The Rising Sun Benevolent Association has maybe twenty dedicated members who aren't also part of the Organization. Naoto, how many members would you say the Sun Guard has? I'm estimating somewhere between one thousand seven hundred and two thousand."
"Umm…" Naoto looked up at the ceiling for a moment, presumably distracted with internal calculations. "I'd say a bit more than that, but definitely no more than two thousand five hundred. And that's pushing it."
"Let's call it two thousand," I settled, "which gives us just over twenty-one hundred bodies across all three organizations. In other words, including noncombatants and untrained fighters armed only with sticks and knives, we have one percent of Shinjuku affiliated with us. That's not enough to control the Ghetto, much less conduct offensive operations."
"So, you're saying we need to recruit?" Souichiro asked, leaning forwards over his bowl. "I don't know how much use we'd get out of more recruits at the moment. Not until we can put guns in their hands, at least."
"True, we can't do much to expand our combat power at the moment," I nodded at the former police officer, "and I'm hoping the new arms we're purchasing from the Six Houses help with that particular problem. However, an army, even a guerrilla one, needs more than just frontline fighters. We also need to recruit engineers and medics, teamsters and administrators, mechanics, and even cooks.
"And then," I said, pausing slightly for effect, "there's intelligence. We have Diethard and Kallen, but two agents aren't enough. We need to find the people in the Ghetto who have work tickets and regular engagements in the Settlement, the ones who work as cleaners, janitors, and laborers in the Concession itself. Britannian arrogance likely keeps most of the occupiers from noticing servants, but they all have eyes and ears."
I stood up and began to pace back and forth as I continued. "Up until now, we've operated as a small, independent, armed band. We controlled limited amounts of territory, but virtually everybody in our organization was expected to be a frontline fighter, ready to pick up a gun at a moment's notice. We can no longer afford to think on such a limited level.
"When we took over Shinjuku," I continued, "we also took on the organizational requirements that come from running Shinjuku. A gang, or a militia, can't run a city. We know that for a fact. They simply lack organizational depth. Now, unless we want to lose control of the Ghetto in a few months, we need to stop thinking like a militia and start thinking like an army."
"Can you explain what you mean, Tanya?" Naoto inquired. "I mean, we've already implemented a training system or the start of one, and we've got something like a social services division with the Rising Sun and all that. That's beyond what gangs tend to do already, correct?"
"True," I agreed, "we've made a good start, but there's still a great deal to accomplish. For one, we need to start focusing on establishing institutions. Right now, everything is run on a more or less ad hoc basis, with personal loyalty to local leadership binding the Organization together. That will have to change. Personal loyalty only lasts as long as leaders can consistently deliver victory, and victory is never consistent over the long haul.
"We also need to start cultivating specialist units, particularly when we're talking about non-combat services. Inoue's an excellent quartermaster, and Nagata is a good driver, but what happens if they die? The institutional knowledge and skills die with them, without any clear idea about who takes over. No individual, not even you or I, Naoto, should be irreplaceable in an organization dedicated to fighting an empire that spans multiple continents."
I let that sit for a moment, giving my audience time to absorb my points. Change was difficult, but in our case, very necessary. The only reward for good work was, always, more work. Still, I was optimistic; my comrades had always risen to the challenge before, and I fully expected they would again.
"On another topic," I said a minute or so later, "we need to start thinking outside of Shinjuku. The outside world doesn't stop at the Ghetto's wall, and we need to stay on top of things. The situation in Niigata is turning into a quagmire for the Britannians, and while I'm sure the JLF are ecstatic about it, the rising food prices aren't helping matters here. Worse, the Britannians are also increasingly aware of the threat represented by Japanese uprisings; their complacency is waning in favor of paranoia. Sooner or later, they will act on that fear.
"At the moment, the Rising Sun has a presence only in Shinjuku, and the Kozuki Organization only has a single small outpost outside these walls. This is an issue for many reasons, the worst of which is that Shinjuku is entirely indefensible."
I turned on my heel to face my fellow insurgents. "Which brings me to my next point; we need to increase the scale of our operations, both in terms of expanding our organization and in terms of ensuring that we cannot be destroyed by a single catastrophe."
"We have put all of our eggs in a single basket, haven't we?" Naoto remarked, "but expanding beyond Shinjuku is a pretty broad umbrella. I mean, for one thing, if we're already overstretched trying to keep the Ghetto under control, how are we going to find the manpower to establish branches elsewhere? And how do we make sure they stay loyal? That's a resource investment all on its own, especially if we intend to expand Rising Sun's operations too."
"I think we should start relatively small," I said, nodding to acknowledge our leader's point. "I left half of the graduated trainees behind at The School to act as a training cadre. I think that, combined with Ohgi and Major Onoda, they can handle another training cohort or two ahead of schedule. The sooner we can turn militia into soldiers, the better.
"As for further expansion, we need more on-the-ground information, first-hand observations, to get a feeling for the available options. I recommend deploying the two squads of trained fighters I brought with me as scouts. Major Onoda has trained them all in infiltration, long-range scouting, and information collection. They will also be useful in training anyone we recruit with the potential to play a dedicated undercover role, amongst the enemy."
Or, I thought, amongst our alleged allies. Kusakabe's surely up to something, considering his recent promotion, and I need to know what he's planning before he blindsides us as well as the Britannians.
"Can I add something?" Souichiro asked, and continued after I nodded and sat back down, leaving the proverbial and literal floor to him as he rose from his chair. "The School… It's in Gunma. My family's ancestral homeland. I've got a few cousins there, and if they're still alive, they're farmers. Even before the Conquest, people were leaving Gunma, heading to the cities… That means there are plenty of empty villages and fields. They just need to be cleared out, rebuilt…"
"So…" Inoue frowned, "you're thinking about sending civilians to Gunma too, not just trainees? That… That would actually solve a fair number of issues, but that would also be a huge resource investment."
"But it would be an investment too," Souichiro countered, "after all, every bushel of rice we can grow is one less we need to buy from the running dogs sitting in Kyoto. Beyond that, what happens if another Christmas Incident happens, only this time directed at Shinjuku? Every civilian we can get away from the mobs, the better." The older man glared at the rest of us. "We're here to protect them, aren't we? That's our job. That's why we're talking about food instead of bombs. To protect the people."
That was… Unusually spirited for Souichiro.
I remembered when I had first met him, back when Tamaki had brought him to the old basement headquarters. The former police officer had been a broken man, still mourning the loss of both of his sons, one to a Britannian bomb and the other to an honorary Britannian citizenship. Now, months later, he was vigorous, and years had fallen away from his graying head.
"You make a compelling point," I replied after a moment, "and I agree that we need to invest in our people's future. That said, I can't agree with this concept unless we have more tangible information to work with. For starters, we need to see if your cousins are still alive and if they're willing to help teach people how to farm. Also, if they have any seed grain available for sale."
"Also," Inoue chimed in, "we need to find one or two of those abandoned villages to use as models. At the very least, we'll need to figure out if we need to send one of our generators out there for power, not to mention portable stoves, water purifiers… The list goes on."
"And we need to figure out how the JLF will respond," Naoto added. "From what you reported, Tanya, the Britannian presence in northwestern Gunma is pretty light, but the JLF maintains a presence. The last thing we need is a fight over territory with them, or to get in the way of some sort of operation they're planning. Or even worse, stumble into some extra secret Brit operation or base. They do have a habit of showing up where you least want 'em."
"Quite," I agreed and turned back to Souichiro. "How do you feel about taking the lead on this one, Souichiro? You're the one with the personal connections to the locals, as well as some familiarity with the area. Ohgi can introduce you to Major Onoda to cover the JLF angle. I suspect," I continued, a note of annoyance creeping into my voice, "that the Major will have absolutely no problem collaborating with you."
"I'd be honored," Souichiro responded, bowing slightly at the waist. "It's been far too long since I last went home."
"Good," I said, continuing briskly along. "I'm planning on sending Tamaki, his squad of pet goons, and about forty Sun Guards to The School. Find two or three people to help you out in Gunma, and you can travel with them. Get a list of what you'll need together, including whatever 'gifts' might be necessary. You'll be heading out in two days."
"Very well." Souichiro pushed his chair back under the table and retrieved his hat. "I'll begin my preparations immediately. Thank you for entrusting this mission to me."
"Thank you for your idea," I replied, waving a quick goodbye as he left before turning back to my two comrades. We waited in silence as the sound of footsteps receded down the hallway, and then continued to sit quietly until Shuzo, Mallet, poked his head in through the door.
"He left the building without talking to anybody, Ma'am," he reported, "and it looks like he's heading back towards the Meeting Hall."
"Thank you, Shuzo," I said, acknowledging his report with a nod, not looking away from my comrades as the soldier withdrew from the room. "Your thoughts?"
"I don't think he's the mole," Naoto said thoughtfully. "I didn't think he was before the meeting, and I don't think he is now. Definitely not for the Six Houses, at least. No way he'd work with them – that disgust in his voice was too real. I don't think that his son working for one of their companies means anything important; it's pretty clear that 'Keith' is dead to him."
"It could be a long con," Inoue countered unenthusiastically, "I mean… It could be. I just don't see Souichiro being able to pull it off. He's, well…"
"Painfully straight-laced?" Naoto supplied with a slash of a grin, "yes, during the time we've worked together, he's always struck me as a 'by the books' man, very uncomfortable with duplicity or misdirection."
"He's also hierarchy-focused," I mused, thinking about how Souichiro still lapsed into a more formal cadence whenever he replied to questions or orders. "I'm inclined to agree. If he's a spy, he certainly isn't Kyoto's."
"Which," Naoto began with a heavy sigh, "leaves Chihiro. Unless anybody thinks Nagata or Tamaki is telling tales out of school?"
"Not Tamaki, but I have considered Nagata as a real possibility," I admitted. "He was around to hear about the Lacy Garter plan, and considering how much he cares about them, his wife and child represent a solid hook. On the other hand, he was also the one who volunteered to introduce me to Mister Asahara, and he's the one Kyoto House used to pass the burner to me. The fact that he's openly associated with a Kyoto agent makes it hard to believe that he's a spy."
"I mean, unless he doesn't know he's a spy? For all he knows," Naoto pointed out, "he's just talking with a friend or whoever about what he's doing, and that friend is passing information on. I'm not saying it's likely, but maybe our problem isn't a mole, but just loose lips?"
"That's possible," I allowed, "and I really hope that you are correct about that. The idea that any of our comrades have been informing on us to anybody, even nominal allies, is… distressing."
That was putting it mildly. It had become increasingly clear that Kyoto House had a source close to the Kozuki Organization if not inside it, a source that had kept them annoyingly well informed about our group and our operations and internal dynamics. I had not wanted to acknowledge the possibility, but my conversation with Kyoto the other day had forced my hand. If I had to negotiate with Kyoto House, I couldn't allow information leakage, accidental or deliberate.
"Do you really think Chihiro could be spying on us?" Inoue asked, her tone full of a curiosity that I would call idle if I didn't know how proactive she could be. "I know that she dislikes both of you for stupid reasons, but that doesn't make her a spy. She's also not the only one who feels like that in Shinjuku, I'm sorry to say."
"I think Tanya and I are both fully aware of that," Naoto dryly replied, "but no, I don't think she's a spy. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is completely unable to control herself when she gets angry. I'm pretty sure she'd have outed herself by now if she was a traitor."
"No, it probably isn't her directly." I agreed with a shake of my head. "Given how much she hates Britannia, and myself and Naoto by association, I don't see her doing a bunch of powerful, shadowy, collaborators any favors on purpose."
"Alternatively… She could think that she's talking to a spy for the JLF or some other resistance group and have no idea who she's really feeding info to," Naoto mused. "It's not like a spy would be above lying about their loyalties."
Slowly, I nodded as I turned the idea over in my head. While he usually blended in quite well with the rest of us these days, a far cry from his occasionally ignorant or overly sensitive reactions back when I had first met him, sometimes it was still obvious that Naoto was from a Britanian noble family, at least as a bastard. After all, when it comes to duplicity, who can rival the Britannian nobility in their mastery of the art?
"Perhaps," I allowed, "or maybe she simply lacks any grasp of operational security; like with Nagata, rather than being a mole specifically, she might just be overly talkative. Alcohol in abundance will do that to a person, after all. Her hotel headquarters seemed pretty chaotic as well – it'd be hard to keep tabs on everybody there. It might not even be a person, her place could be bugged to listen to her drunken rants."
"Hmm…" Naoto rubbed his chin. "That's a good point. On the other hand, we have plenty of reasons to shitcan Chihiro, even if she isn't a spy…"
"Or," Inoue interrupted, "we could simply remove her from that environment and send her elsewhere. She's very passionate, and she clearly understands how to appeal to people; all of her girls follow her first, us second. Expelling her from the group could lead to a fracture – on the other hand, sending her on a scouting or a recruiting mission elsewhere could turn her back into an asset?"
"And separating her from her power base would give us a chance to bring them back into the fold," I said, nodding along to Inoue's point, "preserving resources and maintaining institutional homogeneity. Saitama might be a bit too close for that, but Yokohama's almost thirty kilometers away."
"And the largest Britannian naval base in the Area is less than ten kilometers from the Yokohama Ghetto, down at Yokosuka," Inoue pointed out. "I know that she's not exactly trained as a scout or an infiltrator, but surely even an untrained observer could dig up something of use down there."
"At the very least, she could warn us if all of the marines start heading north towards Tokyo," I agreed. "Hopefully, though, having her work in an environment rich with acceptable targets will prove a useful outlet for her issues. Especially if she doesn't think she has to worry about us hovering over her."
"And that dovetails neatly with our pre-existing plan to scout for potential expansion opportunities outside of Shinjuku."
"Yes, about that," Naoto leaned back in again, "where were you thinking of sending your teams, Tanya?"
"One team's going to Maebashi," I replied immediately. "If our fallback location from Shinjuku is going to be Gunma, which Souichiro's suggestion would probably lead to, we need eyes and ears in the prefectural capital. It's also the largest city in the prefecture, and probably the best place for local recruits. The proximity to The School will help us shuffle training cohorts in and out, along with supplies.
"As for the second location, I was thinking either Mito, in Ibaraki Prefecture, or Utsunomiya in Tochigi. I haven't made up my mind about which would be better, though. Each has strong arguments for and against – more of Tochigi Prefecture is rural, and it borders Gunma, meaning it has many of the same advantages. A foothold in Ibaraki, on the other hand, might allow us to form connections with the seaborne smuggling community."
"Go for Ibaraki," Naoto replied firmly. "The Oarai Isosaki and Oiwa Shrines are both located in the province, and can personally attest that Oiwa, at least, was still intact if abandoned as of three years ago. Lord Daikoku, the god of nation-building, is enshrined on the Oarai Coast; his blessing will surely help us prevail."
"...Well, I suppose such sentiments could prove helpful for recruitment," I conceded. Naoto, religious foibles or not, was the leader of the group for a reason. Perhaps he had seen something I'd overlooked. "I'm sure Yoshi will enjoy some seaside air as well."
APRIL 26, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1507
"Missus Tsuchiya, right?" I exchanged bows with the woman, noting the vaguely harried look in her eyes. "Please, come in. Have a seat."
"Thank you very much, Miss Hajime." Despite her weathered features and the deep stress lines carved across her cheeks, Tsuchiya Hitomi still moved gracefully, carefully pulling out her chair before perching on the very edge, legs primly crossed. The years had not been kind to the former assistant principal; though I knew she was thirty-eight, she looked like she was already in her mid-fifties.
"I want to thank you for responding so quickly to my message," I began, smiling politely from across Inoue's desk. "As soon as I proposed this initiative, Kaname Ohgi all but insisted that you be involved. He was quite effusive in his praise of your skills as an educator and an administrator."
"I'm… very happy to hear that," the one-time assistant principal of Toyama Junior & Senior High School replied. "I was also very happy to hear that Mister Kaname was still alive… I haven't heard from him in years."
"I'm sure he'd be happy to catch up with you whenever he's next back in Shinjuku," I said smoothly, falling into the familiar cadence of office conversations across time and worlds, "although he is unfortunately away on assignment at present."
"Oh, that's…" Missus Tsuchiya struggled for a reply for a moment, "good, I suppose? I will look forward to the occasion."
"Indeed," I smiled, "now, onto business. I don't want to waste any more of your valuable time, Missus Tsuchiya, so I will be brief. Education is practically nonexistent in the Ghetto, except in the special case of the Shinjuku School for Elevens, where anything useful is so buried in propaganda that the whole structure is a net loss. It is long past time to tackle this issue."
"I'm definitely not against the idea…" Missus Tsuchiya said, her voice slow and heavy with some emotion I couldn't quite pinpoint. "But… How? I know of the Rising Sun, and I respect your work; you've fed me and my husband for a month now. But, and meaning no disrespect, you barely hold Shinjuku. Is this… Well, is this really something you can afford to focus on?"
"We can't afford not to focus on it." In that, I was certain. "The greatest wars are fought in the heart and the mind; what happens on the battlefield is just the byproduct. Make no mistake, the Britannians have sought to occupy our minds just as much as they have sought to break our bodies."
I paused, casting my mind back over the nearly six long years that had passed since the Conquest, searching for tangible examples of what I meant. There were too many painful memories to count, but two in particular would serve me well here. "...I saw the ashes of Naruko Tenjin Shrine myself. I have also sat through classes in the School for Elevens. I know of what I speak. If we do not teach the next generation, then we will be the last generation. Education for the Japanese and by the Japanese is the heart and soul of our struggle."
"I see, I think…" The former educator muttered, clearly mulling my words over. After a moment, she appeared to come to a decision. "Alright, Miss Hajime, you make a… compelling case. And, it's been far too long since I've heard anyone speak so passionately in favor of education, so… What are you looking for from me? How can I help?"
I can't quite tell if she's on board and asking for assignments, or if she's still non-committal and asking what her responsibilities would be. Why is she dragging her feet? I wondered, slightly frustrated by the ambiguity of the situation. Does she think this is a job interview? Ohgi said she was the best chance we have for reforming anything like a functional educational system!
For a moment, I tried to put myself in Missus Tsuchiya's shoes. She was a well-educated woman who had been a key member in an important pillar of pre-Conquest society, a high school attended by children of the upper-middle class. After years of desperation and struggle, it must be shocking to so suddenly be called back to duty.
"I have the utmost faith in your skills," I reassured the older woman, "and I am sure the children under the Rising Sun's care are eager to learn, if only so they have some structure to rely upon. I'm sure you understand how hard it is to feel secure when your daily schedule is unpredictable."
"That's very true," Missus Tsuchiya replied fervently, "and structure is definitely important when it comes to education and childcare. But, what exactly is it that you need from me?"
"First and foremost," I said, "I need names. Ohgi said that I should ask you for the names of other teachers, tutors, or other educators who might still live in Shinjuku. I'm not expecting you to teach the next generation by yourself, after all!"
I smiled politely, waiting for the obligatory chuckle in response to the ludicrous concept I'd just floated, but Missus Tsuchiya just looked relieved for some reason. Did she think I was expecting her to handle all eighty thousand children in Shinjuku on her own? Nonplussed, I continued.
"You will be given a budget to recruit any of your fellow teachers. We have a reserve of Britannian currency, but we can also pay in increased rations or by providing small luxury items on request," I explained. "Once you manage to recruit some staff, start working on a curriculum, and start working on a book list. I will put a bounty out on books that you recommend, so hopefully we won't need Britannian textbooks.
"Oh, and also," I continued as inspiration struck, "if you or the people you find happen to know any technical or vocational instructors, that would be useful too. We'll need to teach adults how to be electricians, welders, mechanics, and the like.
"And once you've got a curriculum and a materials list sorted out, well…" I shrugged. "I'm not going to dictate your job to you. Let me know what you will need to educate the children. I can set aside some of the rooms in the more intact office buildings for classrooms if those would be adequate; otherwise, I'm sure I can find some families willing to host sessions in their apartments. I might be busy in the near future, but Inoue Naomi will be on hand to help you out."
"Ah, good! That's… good to hear." Miss Tsuchiya smiled, bobbing her head in a nod of acknowledgment. "And…" She continued, somewhat hesitantly, "are you going to be joining the classes, Miss Hajime?"
"Ah," I replied eloquently, blinking in surprise. "Sorry, what? I don't know anything about education, so I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to help you conduct the classes. Inoue knows at least as much about the local supply situation as I do, so I don't think I can help you much there either."
"But…" And now Missus Tsuchiya was the one blinking in confusion. "But didn't you say you wanted the children under the Rising Sun's care to be educated? Weren't… Weren't you going to include yourself? There's no way you're over twelve – you must have been in first or second grade during the Conquest!"
I stared blankly at the former teacher, who I noticed had suddenly turned pale. That's right… Biologically, I just celebrated my twelfth birthday a month ago. I had almost forgotten that I'm still a child… Suddenly, Missus Tsuchiya's hesitant dithering made a great deal more sense. It must be strange as a teacher to take orders from a pre-teen… To rely on a child to keep you fed. She must have known before she had come, but seeing is believing, as the old line went.
"I-I'm sorry," Missus Tsuchiya said, her words jumbled, rushing over one another. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I know that you're quite important, and as a leader, you must be very busy. I'm sure you don't have any time, and you're clearly doing well for yourself…"
"No disrespect taken," I replied, holding up a hand to forestall the torrent of words. As soon as I raised my hand, the woman, old enough to be my mother, nearly bit her tongue as she slammed her jaws closed. "I didn't mean to alarm you. It's just… It's just been a while since I remembered that I am technically a child."
For some reason, Missus Tsuchiya looked incredibly sad for a moment, before her face firmed back up again. "Well, Miss Hajime, that's… Not entirely uncommon here in Shinjuku, I suppose. Lots of children have been forced to grow up far too quickly."
"I made it to the fourth grade, you know," I commented idly. "I was lucky enough to start kindergarten courseearly, and I managed to skip the third grade." It was meaningless trivia, but something inside me thrummed unpleasantly at the reminder of those long-gone days, when I still thought I had a chance to find a peaceful life. "My mother was very invested in my education."
She was always very invested in me, wasn't she? Even if she didn't need to be. I felt a lump in my throat. And where did it get her? Working hard for nothing, because she ended up in a dumpster all the same.
"I… see." Missus Tsuchiya said, her voice a bit hoarse. "I guess it isn't a surprise that you were a quick study, considering where you're sitting now. Thank you for this opportunity, Miss Hajime. I'd be honored if you chose to attend my class, but of course, I wouldn't want to impose. I will start reaching out to my old colleagues immediately; I'm sure they will be overjoyed to have the opportunity to teach again."
"Thank you for your time," I replied politely, if distractedly. The itchy heat in my eyes made it hard to focus, and a woman almost a year dead kept derailing my train of thought. "I appreciate your willingness to work with me. I am looking forward to hearing back from you soon."
The now no-longer former teacher said a polite goodbye that I could barely hear before all but fleeing from the office. I remained behind Inoue's desk for a few seconds, waiting until the sound of her footsteps disappeared into the hustle and bustle of the main hall before I got up, walked to the office door, and engaged the lock.
Ohgi was in Gunma, Kallen was in Ashford, and Naoto and Inoue were very busy, too busy to bother; aside from those four, I didn't want anybody else to see me cry.
