She didn't know the details of the entire operation; she probably never would. She suspected that a Yamanouchi mole had managed to infiltrate a Yakuza operation. All she knew was that her mission was to pose as a poor girl, with forged citizenship papers, making her living as a maid in one of the seedier parts of Tokyo. She had been doing this for weeks; putting in twelve or more hours a day and living in cramped, overcrowded quarters for minimal pay.
Compared to the life of a Yamanouchi Student, it was almost a vacation.
Her handlers were acting subtly different this day when her labors were done; instead of strutting and relishing in their dominance over the helpless girls in their power, they were subdued, acting like they wanted to remain beneath notice. Instead of being hustled into their sleeping quarters, she and the other girls were lined up while rough men, whom she had not seen before and towards whom her handlers acted differential, looked them over. She and a couple other girls were picked out, loaded into a van and taken to a surprisingly comfortable imprisonment. There, with still more young women brought in, she was directed to clean herself and was given clothing that looked a great deal like a domestic servant's uniform. She was then taken to a very messy kitchen/bedroom suite and told to tidy it up. Upon finishing, she was returned to a holding cell.
Her treatment wasn't harsh; although the burly guards leered at and made crude comments towards the young women, they didn't attempt to take liberties, nor did they become physically abusive. The food was surprisingly good and if you could ignore the fact that the doors locked from the outside and there were cameras everywhere, the rooms were modest but comfortable. She was confined here for more weeks. She was given duties; mostly domestic tasks, and while she was constantly busy, she was never worked to exhaustion. Finally, one of the guards gave her a fresh uniform and told her to look her best.
When she was ushered out of the holding cell and lined up with three other young women, all dressed like she was, in another conference room, she could guess what was coming next. Sure enough, one of the guards opened another door and bowed with deepest respect as two more men walked in. One was late middle-aged, dressed impeccably in a black suit and tie. He moved with slow dignity, his face showing no emotion; yet Yori, before she demurely dropped her gaze, noted the scars.
The older man had fought for his position within this organization.
The other man was younger, perhaps in his late twenties. He wore a more casual, beige suit with a bright blue shirt. He had a fit, muscular build that his suit showed off. He moved as a man who was eager to finish the task at hand so he could move on. Yori noted the designer shoes and expensive sunglasses.
Here was a man who saw need to announce his wealth and position.
Her contemplation of what that might mean was interrupted when a riding crop slid under her chin forcing her to raise her gaze to look directly at the younger man. Her superb discipline kept her from inflicting serious injury on him for the affront.
"That is not needful, nephew," the older man gently chided the younger. "Put away your toy and observe."
"My father..." the younger man growled.
"Entrusted me with this task," the older man interrupted, although he never raised his voice. "There is a time for strength and demands, when requests fall on deaf ears. Observe."
"Ladies, be so kind as to look me in the eyes, I would see your faces," the older man then addressed the young women. Yori did as requested, mimicking the actions of a frightened, helpless young woman who would rather not make eye contact, but who realized she had no choice.
"Very well," the older man nodded, acting much like a kindly, yet authoritative grandfather. "Please turn and face the wall to your left."
Again, Yori and the other women did as requested. The old man then had them face the wall away from him, then turn to face the wall that was originally to their right, before having them all face him again. By this time, Yori had once again dropped her gaze to the floor but her peripheral vision picked up the older man nodding to the guards. The burly men ushered the other women out of the room.
She understood the situation; the Yakuza had picked the four women most capable of domestic tasks, then had a senior member select one based upon her beauty. Yori knew that she was attractive; it was a trait helpful for a ninja at times. Despite the fact that she valued her intelligence and skills more than her beauty, she had to admit that she was very competitive. As much as she found the idea of being judged on her beauty to be demeaning, whenever she was compared to others, she was determined to win.
"You see, nephew," the old man addressed the younger. "There is no need to exert your authority when your subordinate already understands it."
Yori dropped her gaze even lower.
"She understands the situation she's in," the older man noted. "She wants no part of witnessing this lesson you have learned. So, will you waste yet more energy punishing one who can not harm you, and who is going out of her way to be compliant, or will you take revenge for a non-existent insult?"
"I...shall do my duties without creating problems," the younger man answered.
"You are not foolish, nephew," the older man's tone was now approving. "You simply still have the fire of youth. Now, please observe some more. If one is to be a proper master, he must explain what he wants to his subordinate before he can expect proper service."
"Child," he said, now addressing her. "Do you understand your situation?"
"I do not believe so," Yori answered, keeping her eyes down.
"Smart girl," he commented. "You cannot know. My brother, this young man's father, is the head of one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in Japan. You are in this country illegally, and nobody will look for you should you disappear. My brother has need of a domestic servant in his apartment; one who will maintain it and he can trust to never reveal his secrets."
Yori trembled at this, playing the part of a frightened girl.
"You understand this," the old man continued. "Good, so I need not say what will happen to you should you become difficult. You will do what you did here, keeping his apartment tidy for such times that he makes use of it. He is also a man with more carnal desires, and you will need to take care of them as well. Do not fear, he is my older brother, so such desires that he has are infrequent and not terribly energetic. In return you will live a comfortable life, with proper care. Do you have any questions?"
"M-m-master," she forced herself to stammer. "The other girls who were here..."
"Need not concern you anymore," the old man told her, in a gentle tone. "Yet I will tell you, they will be assigned duties much like yours, although their masters will not be as high ranking and their lives not as comfortable."
Yori simply stood, her head down.
"Very well," the old man said. "Let us see you to your new life."
She was loaded into a van and driven to an unknown destination. There were no windows that she could see out of, so she had no idea where she was. When the van stopped, she was ushered out to find herself in an enclosed parking area, probably underground. She was quickly taken to what appeared to be a service and cargo elevator. One of the men with her pressed the top button, which took her to a floor high, high above ground level. There, she was taken first to a tiny bedroom, then shown a small dining room, before being given a rundown of her situation. The Yakuza master whom she would be serving had a luxury home outside the city, but spent about half of his time in the condominium on this floor. The master was currently spending time with his family, but would be back in a couple of days. Of course, there was one question that she shouldn't ask, but one that a frightened girl would. When she asked what had become of her predecessor, she was told that as long as she served well, she would never need to know.
Again, she acted as a cowed, frightened girl and followed meekly when shown to the master's luxurious quarters. She went immediately to work cleaning the already spotless condominium. It was a testament to her discipline that she didn't sneer at the arrogant foolishness of her captors. The papers and open laptop on the table were a clear test, so she treated them as vipers. Instead, she concentrated on the rest of the condominium. By making a show of carefully cleaning every surface, she was able to spot the hidden cameras and microphones. Her sharp ears allowed her to pinpoint which walls had her master's servants stationed on the other side. Around noon, a burly man came in and ushered her to the small dining area, where other servants were taking a simple meal.
Playing her part, she acted like she was terrified of the situation, but determined to survive; she reported the open laptop and papers. While the thugs in attendance tried to act nonchalant, small reactions gave away that she had passed a test of some sort. When the meal was ended, one of them entered the masters quarters with her and removed the potentially incriminating items...which Yori suspected contained nothing incriminating. Instead of dwelling on it, she went back to her labors.
For two days, she continued her work; every morning, she was awakened and presented with a clean uniform, led to the small room and allowed to eat, then put to work in the condominium. Every day at noon, she was led back to the small room and allowed to eat lunch, put back to work, then led to her bedroom at night. She cleaned and organized, she watched and remembered. While the labors were detailed and never ending, they weren't overly difficult. However, she soon chastised herself for arrogance.
It had been easy to discount the strongmen who surrounded her as simple thugs, but now that she observed closer, she noted how these simple thugs walked with balance and grace, how they listened much more than they spoke. While they were not ninja and did not share her sense of honor, they were clearly trained fighters and had their own strong sense of loyalty and commitment. Not only that, they were no fools; as much as she was discovering details about them, they would see through her cover in time.
After two days, the master of the abode showed up for a couple of nights. As was custom, Yori and a couple of other servants lined up outside of the private elevator to bow him in upon his arrival. While he looked like a stern but kindly old man, with a great resemblance to his brother, the scars he bore told her that he was also one who had fought hard for his current position. He offered her a slight glance before he entered his dwelling, accompanied by a cook and serving man. Yori was quickly shuttled back to her room. Very late that night, a guard woke her.
"The master sleeps now," he told her. "He entertained guests this night and is quite drunk. Still, he is a light sleeper and does not liking being disturbed."
Yori got the message; she was to be quiet while cleaning. Upon being shown back into the condominium, she was somewhat impressed by how much the master and his guests had messed up the place in a single night. Still, she knew her place, laboring until close to sunup to return the place, less the master bedroom, to the pristine state it had been in. Upon finishing, she was given a light meal then shown back to her room, barely a couple of hours later, she was awakened again.
"The master has left to conduct his business," another guard told her. "You may now see to his bedroom."
Over a week went by in this manner, odd hours during which she and other servants presented themselves when the master returned, of late nights cleaning up after the master's entertaining and late mornings cleaning his room after he departed. On some nights, her sharp hearing caught the sounds of conversation as men passed from the condominium proper to the elevator. In the morning following such nights, the dining table in the master's quarters had several places to be cleaned. On nights that he didn't entertain men, the elevator also ran. In the morning following these nights, the master's sheets often had smears of cosmetics and smelled of perfume, indicating that yuujo or oiran had entertained the old man. Yori was thankful that he had indulged in the services of a professional.
She held no illusions; eventually, he would wish such services on a whim, when his staff hadn't hired a professional to take care of such indulgences, and she was the only woman in the small group looking after his quarters. Was this what had happened to her predecessor? Had he decided to take liberties with her, and she had resisted? Was there something else in play? She knew better than to ask, but she knew it was only a matter of time before something more would be required of her.
On the eighth day, he gently asked her name while passing her. When she replied, he nodded, clearly filing the alias into his memory. After that, four days passed during which the master did not return, Yori knew better than to inquire as to where he may be and what he may be doing.
By the end of this time, she had learned the name of the master's personal cook and serving man. They looked down upon her, but not to an overly insulting degree. While their only real interest in speaking to her was to illustrate how low she was in the pecking order, they let information slip. The master returned for another ten days, and at the end of this time she played the part of a girl becoming slightly bolder, asking the guards if they knew if the master preferred various scents to release in the quarters, or perhaps light music that would soothe the old man's ears when he slept.
While she was told that it was not her job to see to these aspects of his comfort, she noted a slight change in the guards' demeanor. She was the lowest member of the small group that cared for the master's personal quarters, but she was now a member of the group. She also had a good idea of the guards' rotation and the location of all of the cameras on the floor. She was as confident as she could be that she could complete her mission, and she would need to do so before she inadvertently gave herself away. In a way, the master's own hubris made her escape possible. While the servants' quarters and dining area had no windows, the master's personal quarters had windows providing stunning vistas overlooking the city.
Thanks to these views she not only knew what city she was in, she knew where she was within the city.
For three days, the master remained gone. On the evening of his return, he met with men. She listened, as she had done for weeks, and confirmed that the usual events took place. Guards accompanied the men that met with the master, but when the meeting and meal came to an end, the serving man, the cook and all of the guards but two left. There had been no carnal entertainment tonight; judging by the bourbon and sake bottles she typically cleaned up after one of these "dinner meetings", she doubted that the master would have been capable of partaking in such activities. As was usual, one of the two guards ushered her from her bedroom to clean the master's quarters, after he had gone to bed.
She had planned this move for several days; the key was to make everything seem routine...until it wasn't. As per her normal routine, before she went into the master's chambers, she collected a cart of cleaning supplies from a closet outside of the condominium proper. The guard positioned himself where he could observe her...directly between her and the only camera that covered this particular spot.
For someone who was agile; who had drilled long and hard to always be in balance and ready to spring, faking clumsiness could be a challenge. Pulling the cart from the closet, she made an act of catching her toe under the cart, causing her to stumble backwards. While the guard was a thug and disciplined, he couldn't fully suppress his automatic reaction to assist a woman in distress. He stepped forward and Yori struck.
Disguising her move as clumsy flailing, she threw the glob of furniture wax she had concealed in her hand under his foot as he stepped forward, then yanked hard on his other foot. Fashionable men's shoes were as impractical as women's, in their own way. The slick bottoms on his shoes and the highly polished floor didn't give him enough traction to maintain his stance. He had quick reflexes, she had to give him credit for that; he was only shocked for a moment when he realized that both of his feet were at his chin level before attempting to recover. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't about to give him the chance to perform a proper fall. Instead, she yanked down, hard, on his jacket's collar. The man slammed onto the hard floor, leading with the back of his head.
Yori couldn't take the time to assure herself he was incapacitated; while she couldn't be sure that the second guard was watching on the camera, the loud thump of the first guard's head on the floor was sure to have gotten his attention. Again, she played her part; acting like a frightened girl, too scared to actually touch the guard but too scared to leave. The door to the guardroom flew open and the second guard rushed out, one hand inside his jacket. Upon seeing the situation, he strode towards his fellow thug, muttering something about "a clumsy idiot" under his breath and brushing Yori to one side.
Yori had carefully positioned herself so that when he brushed her away, she fell towards the cart.
The master's other servants had made sure that she understood that his bathroom was to shine, and had provided her with effective, and harsh, cleaners to do so. The guard was completely unready to be sprayed in the face with the ammonia-based cleaner. He was confused, not knowing if she had accidentally sprayed him or if he was under attack. He found out too late; blinded by the chemicals, he was unable to avoid her knife-hand strike to the side of his neck. Then stunned, he was unable to fight off her carotid artery choke.
She took a bare moment to congratulate herself; either of these men would have been a formidable opponent. Combined, they should have been a foe beyond her means to defeat but as a true ninja, she had made use of their prejudices and complacency to catch them unaware.
Then the moment was over, it was time to go back to work. First, she donned the rubber gloves she always wore when cleaning, then she hurried through the condominium, noting the many empty and half-empty bottles on the dining room table, and entered the master's bedroom. The first time she had cleaned the rest of the dwelling while the master slept, his guards had warned her that he was a light sleeper. She decided that this wasn't the case when he was drunk. His snoring rivaled the vacuum cleaner for volume. Smirking, she took his briefcase from the shelf in his closet, then rifled through his desk, dumping everything she could find into the briefcase. It would be up to others to sort through what she had recovered; she didn't know how much time she had.
Back outside of the condominium, she noted that the two guards were still incapacitated. She went to their guard post and looked over the camera controls. It only took her a few moments to locate the hard drive that stored the recordings, and moments more to pull it from the computer that housed it. The guards were still incapacitated, so she took some time to cover her tracks better before leaving. First, she pushed the cleaning cart back into the closet; then, she went back into the condominium and grabbed a couple of half-empty bottles. Back outside with the guards, she poured most of what remained in the bottles on the two of them before slipping the bottles into their hands. Then, she made her escape.
This high rise may have been located in a building controlled by the Yakuza, but it had been built to proper fire safety codes. An evacuation staircase was located next to the elevator, so residents could escape in case the power was out. Such doors could be locked, but they would always allow one to exit the floor, or the building. She sprinted down the stairs, but not so fast as to look flushed or sweat heavily. Once on the ground floor, she composed herself and strode purposely outside.
It was late at night and while her appearance would be strange, a young woman in a maid's uniform carrying an expensive and fashionable briefcase, she hoped that her no-nonsense stride would convey the impression of a housekeeper who had finished her duties and now sought her bed. She did not run, nor did she seek dark streets or shadows; she sought to convey the attitude of one who had nothing to flee from. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was skill, perhaps it was both; she reached a rental storage unit door without being stopped or challenged.
The door's code had been drilled into her well before she left on this mission; yet, she was grateful when it opened. Once inside, she found herself inside a large warehouse, lined with locked storage bins of various sizes. She went to a particular one and keyed in the same code that had opened the door. This unit unlocked, revealing a cell phone and a small bag. She placed the briefcase in the bin then turned on the phone...there was no need to do anything else with it. She then took the bag, locked the bin and went to the ladies room. Inside the bag was a change of clothing, money, some cosmetics and a train ticket to Tokyo. Minutes later, looking like a young, professional woman who was out on the town for a good time, she left the storage unit and set her course for the train station.
Even now, she didn't relax. She made several random loops around blocks, seeing if anyone was following her. During one of these loops, she found a garbage can and discarded the bag, which contained her maid's uniform. The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon when she arrived at the train station, tired but reasonably sure that she wasn't being followed. Her timing was very careful, approaching her train just as it was finishing loading. Anyone who was following her from a distance would have to rush to get on and while there were a few people doing so, none seemed to even give her a second glance.
While the local commuter trains in most Japanese cities took crowding to a legendary level, the trains running between cities were quite comfortable. This wasn't to Yori's advantage, as she was very tired but not yet safe. It took a great deal of discipline to not nap during the trip to Tokyo. Once on her feet again, she made a couple of loops around blocks, again seeing if she was being followed. Satisfied she was not being trailed, she went to a particular efficiency hotel.
"Do you have a reservation?" The middle-aged woman at the front counter asked.
"Himari Sato," Yori gave her alias.
The woman's eyes widened for just a moment.
"What brings you to Tokyo?" She asked. "Work or education?"
"Both," Yori told her. "I am attending a school in accordance with my employer's wishes."
The older woman studied her for a few moments before pulling out a card. "The room is yours for at least two weeks," she announced. "You'll find a locker with items that your employer has provided you. There are several good cafes and restaurants in the area, as well as some lively clubs." The last was offered with a mischievous smile.
"My thanks," Yori offered a polite bow before accepting the card and heading off in search of the locker and sleeping cell. She knew the situation; she had completed her mission and was now awaiting further instruction. Safe as she would be outside of Yamanouchi itself, she found her room's complementary locker and found more clothing, money and another cell phone inside. Safe as she would be outside of Yamanouchi, she indulged and a deep and relaxing shower before heading out to a noodle stand and, taking advantage of the delightful anonymity that the crowds provided, made a complete pig of herself. Filled, and now struggling to keep from staggering from fatigue, she returned to the hotel and collapsed into a deep sleep.
The next morning, a text awaited her. Opening it, she read that "grandfather" was happy with her performance at her recent workplace but would like her to come home. She noted the date that he expected her return and realized that she had several days' worth of leeway to make it to the place she would always consider home. However, she chose to not make use of those free days. Instead, she purchased another train ticket and was soon out of Tokyo, heading towards a certain, serene mountain.
The bus stop on the side of the road was deserted when she exited the vehicle. A public hiking trail led from it and wound around the mountain's lower slopes. She followed this trail as the bus pulled away, looking to the passengers as if she were yet another young person seeking some peace and solitude among the mountains. Yet, around a certain corner, she turned and followed a trail that only trained eyes could see.
She was out of shape; the weeks she had spent as a servant had not been as strenuous as her normal life, so she was breathing heavily by the time she reached the waterfall. She would have to address her lack of endurance very quickly. As always, the rest of the world seemed to fall off of her as she crossed the bridge over the ravine. Now, she was Yori again.
As a proper Yamanouchi, she reported to the administrator's office. Junso was at work and offered her a nod in greeting. Yori returned the gesture, allowing herself to smile upon seeing her friend. Soon after, the administrator on duty ushered her into another office, where two elderly masters quickly joined her. The two men questioned her, gently but completely, about her mission. It took hours, and they acted like proper hosts, seeing that she had refreshment and frequent breaks. Finally, finished, they thanked her and asked her to remain while they left. Puzzled, she bowed as they exited the room...then bowed lower when Master Sensei came in.
"A mission well done," the old man told her. "And a surprisingly prompt return."
"My thanks," she acknowledged his praise of her mission, but didn't know how to address the last statement.
"You managed to gather information that will bring down a human trafficking ring," he told her. "And created a major rift in a major Yakuza clan. Right now, that clan doesn't know if they were attacked by a stealthy foe or a traitor within the ranks. Most believe that the captive maid, upon seeing the violence, fled the scene."
"It is good that I was trained in how to extract myself," she noted.
"And still so modest," Sensei shook his head. "I had not expected you to return for several more days, so your usual duties have been assigned to others. I have no intent to re-write the schedule, so you are on your own until the beginning of next week. You are free to remain in Yamanouchi for that time, or use the resources you were provided to enjoy yourself elsewhere." He paused for a few seconds. "What is your intent?"
"I am out of condition, master," she told the old man. "If I am to be of any use when my duties resume, I must address this."
"Dedicated," Sensei's mustache twisted slightly. It was a smile, but not a very wide one. "Sometimes, it is possible to have too much dedication. Still, enjoy your respite; you have more than earned it."
Yori bowed her master out of the room, then left in search of her quarters. The dragon course awaited her and at this time of day, there would be few to observe how much her condition had degraded.
"So, weeks outside of these walls still hasn't corrupted you," the voice from behind her brought a smile to her face. She turned to see Junso.
"And that same time rubbing shoulders with the school's elders haven't taught you propriety," Yori countered.
"Well, you're finally showing a little sass," Junso noted. "There's hope for you yet. Now, I'm sure that you're getting ready to hit the dragon course, but forget it. I have food, tea and an isolated spot. It's time for your debriefing."
"The elders have already questioned me."
"For Yamanouchi business, sure," Junso grinned. "But not for Yori business, and I'm still not allowed off of the mountain. Until I fulfill my current mission and get cleared to do something for the school, I'm living vicariously through you and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't mind getting a few grumbles and complaints off of your chest...the sort that you won't say to an old man. What do you say?"
"That you should quit talking and lead the way."
A/N:
As always, thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading.