"Yes, Heishi, I require a full set of winter clothing suitable for a recon to the fortress. I also require a Wakazashi and some throwing knives or stars. Do not notify anyone of this, just meet me in the garage."
With that said, Hitoshi finishes toweling off and quickly grabs a pen and paper and begins to write.
"Lya, I am sorry for doing this, but this has to end. You have been my friend for a long time, and in my own way, I have grown to love you as a brother loves a sister. You are the light of the people, the one they need to show them the way.
I have chosen a darker path, one that you must not go down. I hope you can understand what I am saying; I know the Furies can protect you from everything... except yourself. I know you care so much for the people that you watch over, just as I care for you, that is why I must do this, so that you do not dim the light which shines so brightly.
"You have seen me at my worst over many years, what you do not know, what I have not told you, are the events of Japan. All you know is how I was when I came back, and that I was like you. I didn't want you to ever see my pain, but I guess you must know. Everything I said during the torture of that gang member months ago, was true. I was called one day out of the blue by an old childhood friend named Akane, a lovely girl with a heart almost as bright as yours. She needed help, The Japanese Yakuza held her in a sex slave ring. I still don't know how she escaped but she did and turned to the only friend she ever had. You know me, I saved you from that gang, and I could do no less for her. It was during my attempt to get her out of the country that we were found, and the Yakuza put the marks on my back that you have seen those rare few times. Each mark carved with a razor sharp tanto is a reminder of my failure then. I started down this dark path the moment they killed her. Fifty men died that day on the blade of Honjo Masamune. I felt each life, I saw the light dim in each pair of eyes, and it's not something you forget. Some ran scared and I chased them down killing them from behind. Others knew what was coming and stood there with quiet acceptance. I struck them down all the same. I killed a man today, Douglas Maxwell, and other than a few moments remorse and a few years, I felt less emotion for him than I did for those fifty men that died so long ago. Orders have been left in a sealed envelope in the safe in my office. The Code is 16528917. The papers will, in the event of my death, Transfer possession of the Casino to you under the conditions that my mother be kept on as head manager to run the place. Speaking of, I have told her to let Arky's people in when they get here and give them proper accommodations. You and the Furies have the penthouse suite next to mine. I will watch over you from beyond. I was born for one reason, I see that now. I am a relic of an age long past, you and I both know this. To fight our monster, I have to give in and become an even worse monster... Lymann will die, I can assure you… even if it kills me as well.
Love
Hitoshi Ryder"
Having finished writing the note, he folds it and leaves it on the desk in the room before picking up his cellphone and calling his mother. His voice is somber.
"Mom, I have something I must do, but I wanted you to know that Lya will be bringing in a bunch of people and a man named Arkay. They are allowed in. make them as comfortable as possible when they arrive. Lya and the furies get the Penthouse next to mine, but don't put anyone else in mine please. I'll be back when I'm done... I love you Mom."
With those words said, he ends the call, sets the cellphone on the desk next to the letter, shrugs into a white fluffy bath robe for some warmth, and leaps off the Balcony with Honjo Masamune in hand. He falls silently to hit the snow and the pavement beyond. After a moment he stands and brushing himself off, shivers as he makes his way to the garage.
Heishi is waiting for you in the garage.
He bows, presenting you with a wakizashi.
"The katana is available if you do not wish to use your family sword for a less-than-honorable endeavor," he says. "We have shuriken, and handguns with spare ammunition. The rest of what you requested will require a short trip to one of our safehouses."
"It is my duty to accompany you," he adds. "However, you should know that I exist solely as an extension of Kimura-san's will, and it is why the rest of the entourage is no longer here. This limits my own abilities; if greviously wounded, for example, I would not be able to heal without drawing upon Kimura-san. As you saw at the compound, he is at the limits of his strength.
"When you are invested as Oyabun, I will fade, and shadows of your own making will take my place."
Hitoshi pauses at the man's words. "And should I wish you to remain?" He asks softly as he takes the wakizashi with a small bow.
"I am honored by the request, but it would not be possible," Heishi tells you. "Stepping down as Oyabun ends the terms under which I serve. The shadows bound to your service will be no less capable or loyal, but they will be crafted from the shadows that you cast."
Mika knocks on the door and waits patiently. After a moment, she uses her executive keycard and unlocks the door, entering the living space.
Hitoshi is nowhere to be seen.
The door to the bedroom is open, but there is no sound of running water or of someone attending to their daily ablutions.
"Hitoshi?" she asks again, just in case he's enjoying a moment's respite in the toilet. No answer.
The shower is damp, the glass still fogged over. There are some lines drawn in the condensation, but nothing that Mika recognizes: neither Kanji nor English words.
A damp washcloth hangs from a counter bar. There is no scent of shaving cream or cologne, though water pooling under a razor shows that Hitoshi did shave. The toothbrush is damp, but again, there is no scent of toothpaste or mouthwash in evidence.
It is not the kind of behavior one expects from a man wracked with remorse about killing and seeking a symbolic cleansing. It is common to men about to engage in violence - no scent to alert those one encounters or engages.
"What are you doing, Hitoshi?" she asks herself. She returns to the bedroom and examines the closets and drawers, which aren't much help - there is nothing here except what Hitoshi brought from the other room, and that was casual wear: slacks, shirt, and comfortable shoes.
There is nothing to show that he was forced to leave or taken unawares. No sign of a struggle or something knocked askew as a subtle clue.
There… two envelopes on the desk, written upon Westview stationery. One is address to Lya Bach, the other to Karen Ryder. The envelopes are unsealed; Mika carefully extracts each letter in turn to read them ...
Hitoshi nods. "Well thank you ahead of time for what service you have provided me then. Look, all I am asking for is the equipment I need for this I guess you would call mission. Anything beyond that is your choice. If you wish to follow, great, if not, it's all cool."
He shivers. "Speaking of cool, I'm downright freezing. Where is this safe house you speak of?"
"We will be there shortly," Heishi says. "I will turn up the heat in the vehicle. I sometimes forget it is a concern to mortals."
You stop at a small storefront with its own garage, noting that the driveway has recently been cleared and providing access. Heishi exits the vehicle briefly to unlock the roll-up door.
The interior of the storefront seems to be a small workshop. There are basic tools for both mechanical and electrical work. Harmless at first inspection, but you realize it would be perfect for a Ninja.
There is an adjacent office that tells you precisely nothing. It is a bland, commercial space. An office computer, phone books, brochures for what you imagine to be a nonexistent service. Enough clutter to make the space seem used.
Heishi works a hidden latch, and part of an office bookcase slides away. Within the revealed space is a small arsenal: handguns, submachine guns, even an RPG. Plus the more traditional tools of the ninja, swords, shuriken/shaken, a weighted chain.
"Help yourself," he says to you. "Suitable clothing is upstairs."
The upstairs is basically a small apartment, with kitchenette, full bath, and two futons. A closet holds unremarkable clothes, but also an assortment of more durable and functional wear.
"If there is something you require, but do not see, please ask."
Hitoshi slips into Some white clothing, layering up so as to stay warm against the chill that pervades Vegas. Then he pockets 10 shuriken, 5 throwing knives, a back holster made for over the shoulder draw for Honjo masamune, along with a white sash to wrap it in. He pauses.
"Caltrops... Do we have any?"
"Hai," says Heishi, pointing to a drawer.
Hitoshi opens the drawer, taking out 20 of the small but dangerous spikes.
"These will do nicely." then he pauses, looking at the RPG. "I don't know how to use that, but I wish I did." He shrugs. "Oh well. I'll do without." He picks up a grappling hook and rope and stuffs them into a small white backpack.
He turns to Heishi. "Well my friend, it's time. Anything else you can recommend for equipment?"
"A small medical kit, bandages, disinfectant, tape and forceps if you have to remove a bullet," Heishi tells you. "Also a needle, scalpel, and thread for sutures if you are fortunate enough to have the time for more extensive repair. I would add a morphine ampule, but you will need your wits about you."
"Ms. Ryder?" Mika asked.
"Mika. Why so formal?" Karen smiled.
Mika held out the envelope.
Mom:
I have something I must do, but I wanted you to know that Lya will be bringing in a bunch of people and a man named Arky. They are allowed in. make them as comfortable as possible when they arrive. Lya and the furies get the Penthouse next to mine, but don't put anyone else in mine please. I'll be back when I'm done... I love you Mom.
"I see. More of this 'Scion' business?" Karen says.
"I believe so. He did not confide in me," Mika says. "If you wish, we can find James, and see if Toshiro Kimura's assistant is available to discuss long-term plans should Hitoshi's absence be prolonged."
"We will address that when the time comes," Karen says. "My son is often headstrong, but he has shown he can play the game, as he did with buying out John Jennings. Thank you, Mika."
Mika bows and takes her leave.
Karen's fingers work nimbly for a moment, transforming the square of stationery into an origami flower, the writing giving the illusion of dark-veined petals and stamen.
"I love you, too," she whispers. "We still have much to do."
With a wave of her fingers, the origami flower disappears as if consumed by sleight of hand ...
Hitoshi nods and rather than argue, he grabs the suggested items. "I doubt I will need them, but who knows."
He take s few moments to balance the bag out and secure everything so it makes no noise.
Turning, he holds out his hand towards Heishi. "Well it's been good knowing you Heishi Maybe one day we will meet again."
"I will drive you to the fortress," he says. "It is not that I cannot accompany you, it is that I am bound to Kimura-san. In his weakened state, my destruction would almost certainly mean his death. I believe that is why the rest of my colleagues have disappeared."
Although Vegas is often described as a city where you can't tell the night from the sunrise, the glow of the Strip is dimmed by the clouds of Fimbulwinter. As you near the 'snow fort,' as Alex jokingly called it, you begin to discern a different glow. The fortress is being bathed in bright arc lights, and the National Guard has established a hard line.
The drawbridge to the fortress is lowered, and a column of grim-faced Einjehar is marching out to form a human wall. They all bear dated, but entirely serviceable weapons: World War II-era machine guns and the like. Still, among their number are men in American uniforms, toting M16s and M60s. Any exchange of fire will be vicious and deadly, but every Einjehar on the line is one less you have to worry about, though you're fairly certain taking over Vegas isn't their primary objective.
You point towards a spot outside of the immediate combat zone, where buildings still stand, unmolested, though Lya's account of roving survivalist gangs suggests an option.
"Heishi. I understand you cannot follow except at great risk to Kimura-san," you say. "Can you wait here, with the vehicle?"
"Hai, Ryder-sama."
You raise your hood and draw a breath mask across your face, turning you into a virtual ghost. You are able to make your way closer to the line without any of the allied troops being the wiser. You estimate several hundred Einjehar have taken up position, with more marching across the drawbridge ... and, yet, that is a 'drop in the bucket' as far as their total numbers are concerned.
You are in the shadow of a corner that was once someone's home, another innocent caught in the battle between good and evil. There is no real route into the castle; even though you can see at least two places from which you could begin your assault - a shadowed alcove just within the portcullis, and another finger of shadow upon the walls - you can't reach them on foot without crossing open ground or risking a climb up the walls ... unless ...
"Fuckin' lot of those bastards, tonight" one Guard corporal noted. "They're up to something."
"Good. They can play dress-up all they want. This ain't some Civil War re-enactment," said his partner. "I hear Fremont is moving some of the Brads up from the Strip."
"About fucking time."
"I imagine that'd mess up even that North guy," said the partner.
"Not half as much as I'll mess you up if you don't do exactly what I tell you," a voice whispered. "Uh-uh, don't turn around."
"Ein, zwei, drei, fuck off, Jerry," the partner spat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you and send you back to Valhalla."
"One, I'm not German. Two, I didn't come from Valhalla. Three, I have your gun," Hitoshi whispered.
The Guardsmen began to raise their hands.
"Relax, gentlemen, I'm on your side," Hitoshi told them. "I need you to trim your sweep pattern so I can get closer to that fucking castle."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"So you're another Psi-whatever?" asked the first man.
There was no answer.
The Guardsman turned. Whoever had been there was gone. He checked his holster - his sidearm was back in place, but the restraining strap was undone, as if to underscore that someone had, in fact, been here.
"Shit. What do you think?" he asked his partner.
"I think we do what he says."