DISCLAIMER – Well, here it is, the epi and the end. As before, I own only the PC on my desk, the chair I sit in, and the idea for this particular story. All other aspects to this universe belong to Wendy Peabody or Eastman/Laird, and Mirage Studios. Thanks to everyone who read and for those who took the time to review. For those who did leave their comments after the previous chapter, they are – Jessiy Landroz, Pacphys, Ramica, Lunar-Ninja, and Chibi Rose Angel.
As for how this chapter opens, I have this thing for colorful sunsets or anything having to do with transitions of that nature.
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Epilogue – A New Season
"Man, these contracts…can't they say what they mean?" Don groaned, "They waste so much ink just repeating the same thing and in a million different ways."
With his impatient ranting, Don knew that he had to take a break. Consequently, he dropped the contracts onto his desk and rubbed at his tired eyes. He then reached over for his cup of coffee. As he brought the cup up to his mouth, he leaned back against his leather chair and took one long pull of the still-warm drink. Taking a second swig, he savored the sensation of bitter liquid as it coursed its way down his throat. Transfixed, now, by the scene before him, Don stared out the large plate-glass window of his office.
From where he sat, thirty stories above the city and with very few obstacles to impede his view, Don had a rather pleasant vista of the Statue of Liberty. She was beginning to glow a little around her right edges, the patina of green brightening along her height, as the sun approached the western side of the Big Apple. Her long shadow stretched steadily across Upper Bay towards Red Hook Channel, while daytime prepared to surrender itself to the encroachment of night. Don then panned his eyes left and spied the faintest of stars blinking just above the farthest eastern horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, evident that evening would soon be upon him and the city.
After a few more swallows of his coffee and after another minute or two of relaxing and taking in the panorama, Don sighed. Placing his cup back down on the desk in front of him, he then picked up the contracts once more and resumed his reading again.
As he worked through the paperwork, Don thought back to the past twelve months. It had already been several weeks since his last operation, with only one more to go, yet he was amazed with how much time had already passed. He flexed his right arm as he thought about it and smiled. It was good as new, just as Dr. Williams had promised, yet it did ached occasionally, again just as the good doctor said it would. The pain only reminded Don of too many things that he would rather forget.
"It's a phantom pain, which isn't all that unusual, Mr. Tello," Dr Williams had told him, "With the kind of trauma you went through, it's amazing that's all you've had to deal with!"
Nevertheless, despite his reoccurring discomfort, between Leo's tea and meditation – and plenty of rest, Don had managed to weather through the worst of it.
As expected, though, his near full mobility allowed Don to return to his business and to get back to his old routine. Of course, he did try to take things a bit easier in order to allow time for him to adjust to a normal schedule, his normal schedule, that is.
Still, he had to chuckle at that thought, considering all the changes he had to make.
"What is normal, anyway?" he mused sarcastically, thinking of the improvements to security he had made, just to ensure that another incident, like the one that nearly took his life, never happened again. If he had anything to do with it, no one would ever again touch him in the way that Bara had.
Yet, because of her attack on him and because of where it had occurred, Don ending up selling the skyscraper where he and Bara had lived, purchasing a new one only three blocks away. Their old place provided him with far too many disturbing remembrances, recollections that continued to haunt him the longer he stayed in the home they had shared. It was enough that his memory did the honors.
Nevertheless, his new home placed him closer to the southern edge of Manhattan Island, giving him a wonderful view of The Lady of New York City and something soothing to look at. The statue and the myriad of boats and ships as they trudged in and out of the channel gave Don a pleasant distraction from his usually hectic life.
In addition to ridding himself of his and Bara's home, though, Don had also sold or given away everything that was hers, whether he had given it to her as a gift or if she had purchased it herself. Nothing of hers would remain in his possession, not if he had anything to say about it.
As for the samurai painting, the one that bothered Bara so much and which was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, Don had burned.
Shortly after the attack and while Don lay in the hospital recovering from his first round of surgeries, Thomas had taken the gift he had picked up for Don and returned it to the jewelry store. Without needing a word from his employer, Thomas knew that Don would not want a reminder of what he had lost when Bara tried to kill him, only to kill her own self instead. It would be too hard on him to have a reminder for the kind of love he had for his deceased wife.
As for the sword, Raphael gave it to Mike for safekeeping, that is, until Don was able to reaccept its importance back into the family again. When everyone finally agreed it was best to place it in storage until that time. Mike gladly did the honors. Carefully cleaning it of only his brother's blood and then sheathing it, Mike packed it off to his California home in Beverly Hills.
Nevertheless, through the past several months after the attack and his surgeries, Don's focus was on only his work. He forced himself not to think, not to pause, and certainly not to daydream. So far, he was slowly winning the battle for his mind and, despite the length of time away from his business while he recuperated from his surgeries, his financial empire continued to grow as well.
As for Bara's passing, the family had heatedly discussed the best way to reveal her death to Don's staff. No one wanted the authorities in on the details, yet it was obvious that Don was unable to continue in his roll as CEO; at least for a while, anyway. The fact that he was now minus a wife, who had already established a reputation for herself in the business, only made things difficult for them. What was more worrisome was the family's fear that informants might very well be in place in the company, eagerly awaiting any news about Don's health. Where it was impossible to confirm such suspicions, however - where Bara had effectively slipped under Don's radar undetected as a Foot agent, they still wanted to avoid a full-scale investigation by the New York City police. Consequently, they opted to confide in a few highly placed detectives about their situation. With Don had already establishing himself as a calming influence politically and had developed a rapport with the police, due to his generous philanthropy, there were very few reasons for them to be concerned. Once they brought the chief of police in on their problem, that Don's wife was part of a hit job and that Bara had tried to kill Don before committing suicide, the chief placed a gag order on all news concerning the situation. In fact, much to the family's relief, he handled it as if it had never happened. Not even the paparazzi caught wind of it.
As it was, other than those close to the truth, no one else knew about Bara's true fate, except for what the family told them. For those under Don's employment and the public at large, they learned that Bara had contracted a fatal illness while she and Don had taken a week's respite at the Croton on Hudson house. With the police chief's blessings, Don's personal doctor 'verified' the fact, listing the cause of her death as virally oriented and providing proof of the bacterial agents in his reports to 'support' his findings. Thomas knew that, had the regular or even Federal authorities been aware of the truth of the matter, there wouldn't have been any end to the investigations concerning Don's family and Japanese crime lords. The clan's position had always been that, to whatever means deemed necessary, the family's ninjitsu heritage and personal conflicts would remain 'non-existent', with no exceptions or excuses. It was only through years of Don exercising a genteel and compassionate appearance and his ability to endear people to his will or cause that he had at the ready a contingency of personnel from every facet of civilized life. No matter the situation, Don had made sure long before Bara tried to kill him, that his clan would forever remain above suspicion, appearing for all concerned as just a simple family unit.
In any event, the news of Bara's sudden passing filtered into the mainstream of things, the shock from Don's employees setting up an expected amount of mourning. Then, with Thomas, Mike, and Raphael in attendance, and if only to make it more convincing, they allowed a simple traditional Japanese funeral, including a viewing of the body.
Bara had been radiant, even in death, her beauty contrasting the fatal wound that lay hidden under her Japanese kimono. The family had decided to forego the shinishozoku, for the traditional robe, keeping with the customary white color for death and having the right side of the kimono lying over the left to signify her passing. Thomas allowed the money pouch, though, filled with the expected coins, another tradition and one that he felt necessary. "As much as she shamed herself with her actions," he told Mike, "in death she should be honored."
Of course, it would be many weeks later before they would realize that Bara was as much a victim of her own circumstances as Don was, yet until they discovered that truth, Thomas had held much contempt for her. No one could rightly blame him, either.
As it was, the funeral appeased those who mourned her passing. The family had explained that Don's absence from the service was due to severe grief and his need for privacy. There were the expected rumors, of course, but once Thomas played a well-crafted videotaped message from Don, it assured those who questioned things more openly that he was indeed quite healthy. As it was, the tape was one that Don had had made only the year before, in case such an event as illness or injury befell him. He knew all too well that the one thing to topple any financial empire was the rumor of its CEO being either too ill to run it, or dying prematurely. Too many companies lost their investors when events of that nature happened, and Don wanted to make sure that it would never happen to him. He knew that the health of his business would have an impact on his family and on many levels that most people would never even consider. To lose that security would mean a host of future problems for everyone.
After the funeral, the family reported to anyone interested that Don planned to have Bara's body cremated in the traditional Japanese way. Then, they would ship her remains back to Japan to reside next to her deceased grandfather.
In truth, the clan had her ashes shipped overseas in a simple box. Once they were in position over Japan, they parachuted the box out from one of Don's jets into what they knew to be Foot territory, which resided along the northern part of the island nation. Accompanying the 'special delivery', they had included a note of threat and reprisal for any rebuttal to her failed mission.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting to see if the rival clan would accept their loss with dignity and honor – or further their campaign against the mutant family.
Nevertheless, at night while he slept, Don could still 'see' Bara in his dreams. A subtle vision of beauty, lying next to him, embracing him, kissing him, and then, plunging a knife deep into his heart. The nightmares were all symbolic, of course, but, still, he would wake with a sudden arch of his body, striking out blindly at the shadows as his reflexes became automatic. It was almost as if he was trying to deflect his inner demons. In any event, he would then find himself drenched in sweat in the same way that Bara would have been after one of her dreams.
Afterwards, though, Don would think about her and think about her nightmares. He would recall the strange phone messages that came at odd hours, and then he would remember what Thomas and Mike had later discovered about what the tones were telling her to do.
It was usually at that point from waking and thinking about her, when Don would release his grief. His tormented anguished cries would echo through his bedroom while the cloak of night hid his tears. As he mourned the loss of his beloved Bara, his rose and ultimate thorn, Don would eventually slip into a fitful slumber. Then, besieged with the never-ceasing dreams of his wife, he would cry even in the middle of his sleep, only to wake up the next morning, red-eyed, yet ready to brave a new day to conduct 'business as usual'.
Although solving the mystery had explained Bara's behavior, it still left a lingering regret in his heart - and a fear, as well - that others in Don's employment or business dealings were likewise conditioned.
As a result and as time went by, Don slowly became more recluse. His entire countenance became glacial cold and aloof, placing distance between himself and anyone else not considered family. Yet, even family members often had to endure his arctic-cool countenance.
In either event, his dead wife's essence lingered for a long while in Don's mind. Despite what she did to him, his heart still ached to hold her, to kiss her…to forgive her.
God, how he wanted to forgive her.
Over time, though, he adjusted to as normal a routine as he could, just as did everyone else. He gradually shoved the tragic memory of his loss further back in his mind as he became more determined to win his personal battle. In truth, Don tried very hard to forget her. Gradually, his dreams and nightmares lessened, and slowly, he did learn to let Bara go. Only rarely did she haunt his thoughts and dreams, and usually when he was especially tired or unusually stressed.
Still, along the way, he had lost something more precious than his beloved wife. He had lost the need for love.
Now, as he sat at his desk and poured over the most recent proposal, Don's phone rang out. Absentmindedly picking it up, while still reading from the paper that he held in his other hand, he spoke into the receiver. With his voice flat and unemotional, he spoke into the mouthpiece, "Hello."
"Hey, Donnie boy! How's the tail hanging?" It was Mike.
Don smiled a little, a rare expression for him, and replied, "Longer than yours, but what can I do you for, Mikey?"
Chuckling on the other end of the phone, Mike replied, "Just want'n ta bug ya a bit, give ya an update, and – ah – to – ah - let you know that I had a visitor about a month ago." He cleared his throat and then corrected himself; "ACTually, it was about a month ago…when she climbed over the back wall here in Mojave."
Don stopped what he was doing and looked up from the papers in alarm to stare out his office window, "What – do you mean SHE climbed over the back wall?" His eyes narrowed in wary concern as his ninja senses went on high alert.
"Rahab," Mike sniggered, "AND, guess what, Donnie?"
"She's female." Don remarked flatly, his anxiety slowly rising.
"Ah…side from that…yeah. But, no, guess what? She's…get this, bro… Rahab's a lizard!" He laughed hard into the phone as he continued, "Yeah, and a mutant one, too, humanoid like us! I mean, she's about my height, sports a tail long enough for…ah…well, anyway, and she's even prettier than my mug!"
Don had to smile at his brother's enthusiasm, yet despite Mike's visitor being mutant, he was still cautious. Just the same, there was a subtle bit of interest, as well. Not that Don would have had any need, but the fact that she was a mutant suggested there might be more like her.
"Well, even a Saguaro cactus is prettier than your face, Mike. So…does she have a family, Mike?" Don asked dryly.
Mike laughed at his brother's jab, replying, "Nope, bro, just herself, uno numero, stuff like that." He continued to chirp, "One of a kind and we've been – ah- sort of – ah – cozy, if ya know what I mean?"
"Mike, I don't care about your love life, okay?" Don cringed, yet he couldn't help but smile a little over his brother's obvious enthusiasm. Then, more seriously, "And please keep an eye on her. The last thing we need is another incident like – " Don then sighed, "Well, just promise me you'll be careful."
"Will do, Donnie boy, and I think I'm gonna enjoy it, too!" Then, Mike said as an afterthought, "Oh and Raph stopped by this morning, too. Thought ya'd want ta know, all things considered. Anyhew…guess I'll let ya go." Mike then said 'goodbye', hung up on his end, and left Don to sit there to stare out his expansive penthouse window.
He leaned forward with his arms on his desk, watching as the late afternoon slipped behind the western side of New York City, long shadows reaching like fingers over Manhattan. One by one as the sun's rays dimmed, a rainbow of lights sparked alive below him, slowly bathing the metropolis with a multitude of bright colors. He sighed and then laid his forehead tiredly on his arms.
"Mike, oh Mike, you had better be careful, bro," he sighed. "Rahab? Who in their right mind would name their kid that?" he grumped under his breath. He knew that it was a Biblical name and one belonging to a woman who had participated in something pertaining to the Jewish people. Then, as he recalled the passage, his head shot up in sudden surprise.
"A prostitute? By the gods, Mike, what have you done?" Sighing, he shrugged, "Well, however or why she was named or how she came to be, maybe they'll be able to have kids; that is if Mike doesn't run her off with his exuberant lust for life."
Shaking his head and allowing himself the smallest of smiles, Don returned to his paperwork. To even imagine Mike becoming a father seemed as incongruous to him as a finding a rose in the middle of the desert.
Suddenly, as a wave of nostalgia washed over him, Don tried not to think about Mike, Rahab, or kids.
And, as his smile continued to fade, he especially tried not to think about roses, and what kind of future might have been for him.
The End.
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Shinishozoku : A dress for a journey to eternity. The deceased is put on so called a grave clothes, a hood and a money pouch containing six pieces of money. This costume has a close resemblance to the traveling outfit in old days. So the SHINISHOZOKU can be regarded as the costume for starting on a journey to eternity. The six pieces of money in the pouch are said to be used as a ferriage for crossing Japanese Styx.