Girl Rides the Wind (14 page)

“Yes, father. We will do something similar.”

Gyoshin glanced over at the old man, who nodded his approval of his daughter’s respectful tone, and she saw a dimension of the ‘plan’ she hadn’t considered before. Minoru wished to rule, just as
Ojii-san
did, oblivious to the limitations of their own strength. The duties and responsibilities of rule would devolve on the younger generation, on Jin and herself, probably within a few months. Only the certainty of that knowledge could explain why someone as ambitious as Jin would indulge her father’s fantasy. The plan depended on the feebleness of the old men, as well as on the network of connections and loyalties that had been built up over the years or, in her family’s case, over the centuries.

“Once we dispose of the little girl and force the Emperor to abdicate, the Crown Prince will abdicate as well, since he has no hope of further issue,” Jin continued, pausing for a moment as the car navigated a poorly maintained stretch of the road leading into Sasebo. “The brother will be compliant, if only for the sake of his little boy’s prospects, and we can dissolve the Diet on the grounds that it showed itself to be incompetent when it approved the new Bill of Succession.”

“You’ve done a fine job of shaping public opinion on that topic,” Gyoshin said. “The new Emperor can promise new elections within six months…”

“In which time, we will have installed our people in all the key positions. The Diet will be effectively powerless. A year or two later, a new constitution will formalize the new arrangement.”

“Much depends on that first election,” Minoru said. “Don’t neglect it, since unless we get the Prime Minister we want, we will be unable to avoid putting tanks in the streets.”

“Yes, father.” Her voice betrayed the slightest trace of impatience, or so Gyoshin thought. “Of course, the current parties will be proscribed, which means that other than our own party, only a few liberal-fringe candidates will be eligible to campaign, and even if they manage to win a handful of seats here or there, they won’t be able to put together even a symbolic measure of resistance. In effect, we will run the country from the Imperial Palace, and the people will get enough democracy to keep them content.”

Protesters blocked the main entrance to the naval base, CFA Sasebo, the one the US personnel used, and Gyoshin strained to read their signs as the car drove past. Some variation on “America Out,” most of them said, written either in
romaji
or
katakana
. Several news crews observed from the periphery, with cameramen deployed around the crowd as reporters pressed microphones into the faces of a few participants. The guards at the gate seemed overwhelmed by the size of the crowd, and a barrier had been hastily erected to create a separation.

“At least it will lessen the chance of anyone getting shot accidentally,” she said, half to herself.

“No matter,” Jin said. “Though it would help our PR effort if a few protesters were killed.”

“Are we going to the
Jietai
entrance?”

“Yes. The organizers have strict instructions to focus only on the Americans.”

Japanese guards waved the car through, and they drove past a few old brick buildings, relics of the previous world war that had survived the bombings. An enormous dry-dock came into view – really nothing more than a deep trench with concrete walls and fixtures for various sizes of mechanized scaffolding. Brown tarpaulins covered heavy equipment at the bottom of the dock. The limo turned another corner, and two large ships suddenly came into view, metallic-gray and riding low against the last of the
Jietai
piers, their guns pointed out to sea, aimed at nothing.

Around the next bend, American gate guards waved the car over and checked the pass the driver showed them. A moment later, they were waved through, and Gyoshin watched in awe as the car turned a corner and the American squadron gradually presented itself. The ships were immense, much larger than those belonging to the
Jietai
– she’d seen big ships before, but the contrast in size had never struck her in quite this way.

“It’s a shame we won’t be able to seize their fleet,” Jin said. “It just means we need to manipulate them into doing our bidding.”

“That’s why the illusion of democracy is so important,” Minoru said. “The Americans are obsessed with that particular fantasy.”

“
I
t is an honor
, Heiji-san,” the girl said, in quite formal Japanese, with a little bow.

The sensation was certainly unexpected. Tall and slender, taller even then Soga Jin, as much a tomboy as Takako, and exuding that peculiar mixture of confidence and sorrow so few people understood in this democratic age. Gyoshin knew all about her, had seen the angry headlines in the Tokyo and Osaka dailies that Jin had arranged – ‘
Crown Princess Gives Inappropriate Audience
’, ‘
Hafu Admitted to the Togu Palace
’ – and the video smuggled out of the embassy in Washington of the little princess clinging to her neck. They would save that one for a more strategically useful release. How could she feel sympathy for this
hakujin
whose assassination they had already planned so carefully?

“You are too kind, Tenno-san, and too formal. Please, call me Gyoshin.”

What she didn’t expect was the tingle when she touched the girl’s hand, as if she’d brushed up against a live current. Instinctively, she checked her hand for goose-bumps and raised hairs. The American women wore uniform-skirts that approximated the doughty effect of her own business suit, but Lt Tenno wore trousers, and looked every bit the soldier, standing ramrod straight next to her, nodding occasionally as sergeants and other enlisted men saluted her in passing. She knows how to command formal respect.

“It was generous of Mr. Saito to arrange this celebration,” she said. “May I suppose that you had a hand in suggesting it to him?”

“He is my boss at the Ministry, so… yes, I suppose I did. Tell me, is that your young man?” Gyoshin asked, gesturing to a tall, athletically built officer on the other side of the patio attached to the Sasebo Harbor View Club. “I noticed you dancing together inside.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude…”

“No, it’s fine. He is… I suppose.”

“You don’t know?”

“Oh, you know how it is. Boys are so dull-witted about such things, so unaware of the real cost of attachments.”

Gyoshin nodded. She did, in fact, know exactly this, and from painful personal experience, and it surprised her to have found a sympathetic soul after so many years. But why did it have to be this girl, of all people? Those black eyes, when she looked in them she didn’t see a soldier, or even a
hakujin
. Did she find something in them that might explain the Crown Princess’s interest? When they first watched that video, Jin’s reaction was entirely predictable – “The fact that the Crown Princess allows some
hafu
near her daughter shows what a commoner she is,” she’d crowed. But Gyoshin saw only the expression on the little princess’s face as she hugged this girl, and standing next to her now, she was tempted to think she knew why.

“Maybe that’s why we love them.”

“I suppose it is, but I fear for him all the same.”

Perhaps it was the strange, unguarded quality of her conversation, her heart so open to someone she scarcely knew, that brought so many other ideas into focus. Of course, it didn’t change anything about their plans – they would still have her killed, and leave her body at the scene to implicate the Americans. That way, in the face of the inevitable public outcry, the Americans wouldn’t be able to intervene and prop up the government. Some careful management of the crisis would be essential, since there would be calls for kicking them out of the islands altogether. Gyoshin knew they’d still be needed to keep the Chinese from overstepping the limits of their arrangement. The Americans would eventually be allowed to keep some of their bases, but on rather different terms.

By this time, Lt Otani had sidled up to Tenno-san, and Gyoshin turned away to avoid betraying any intimacy.
Let them speak among themselves for a moment
… while she composed herself.

Through the glass doors, she saw Tsukino-san, huddled with Capt Kano and that buffoon, Sgt Ishikawa. If only she could indulge the reverie she so longed for, stand with him, touch his hand, his shoulder, his face. Just then, she caught a glimpse of Jin-san, her face pressed close to Capt Diao, his hand in hers, an arm holding her waist as they moved in a slow waltz. Were they talking? Did she even speak Mandarin? Or Cantonese? Not as far as Gyoshin knew, and her English was barely passable, hardly sufficient for plotting any sort of conspiracy. She’d have to ask Otani-san for better information on Diao’s language skills.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing, Otani-san?”

The callow lieutenant looked down at her shoes, her hands shaking.
Hardly an example of the sort of soldier we need in the Jietai – we’ll have to see to that later
.

“C’mon, Kiku-san,” Lt Tenno said. “Let’s go find some dance partners. We’re not likely to have another occasion like this for some time.”

Gyoshin nodded when the foolish girl glanced furtively in her direction for permission. It wouldn’t matter even if Tenno-san noticed, since she’d likely attribute it to natural timidity, nothing deeper. Her eyes followed them through the glass panes as they worked their way around the fringe of the dance-floor. Ishikawa offered a hand to Otani-san, once he noticed them hovering nearby, but she refused, though Tenno-san accepted and led him out. Otani-san stood next Kano-san for an uncomfortable moment, until he finally obliged by taking her hand.

Jin-san and Diao drifted out of her field of view and a familiar thought presented itself, perhaps more vividly than ever before: “She’ll have me assassinated within a year.” In the past, each time it occurred to her, the walls would begin to press in on her, as if she were already confined in a rough, wooden box, not yet prepared for the urn. But somehow this time, for whatever reason, the prospect promised release… from the cares her grandfather had imposed upon her, from the dreariness of a career in the civil service bureaucracy… from a life spent in miserable deprivation, denied the caresses of the man she loved.

The only care that kept her in the world was Haru-chan, the sunlight princess, whose life she must safeguard for Takako’s sake. Would she be safer living in obscurity with the Okamotos? Or would Jin-san have her hunted down, too, extirpating every runner and shoot of her family from the earth? But there was no reason to expect that she even knew of her niece’s existence, much less that she would trouble herself about her even if she did. That consideration would have to suffice for consolation.

The warmth of her cheeks and the beads of sweat on her forehead returned her to the moment. She rushed to the ladies room – maybe no one had noticed how flushed she was – and splashed water on her face. She’d given up on makeup years ago, so it wouldn’t matter.

The irony wasn’t lost on her: they were prepared to murder the Crown Princess’s daughter, a lineal descendant of
Amaterasu-omikami
, the Goddess of the Sun, and here she was trembling for the life of her own niece. Two daughters of the disgruntled, ancient aristocracy were about to place the government and the Imperial Family of Japan into the hands of two senile, old men, on the pretext that the Prime Minister had passed a bill allowing the little princess to ascend the Chrysanthemum Throne, fully aware that the real power would devolve into their own hands. The stink of it burned her nostrils and brought a cold tear to the edge of one eyelid. She would need a moment to compose her face.

I
shikawa made an awkward partner
, not quite tall enough for a waltz, or nimble enough for a polka. Two turns around the floor and they nearly collided with Tsukino dancing with the tall, elegant woman, Soga Jin.

“Slow down, Dice. You’re turning too fast.”

Like an awkward epicycle, Ishikawa twisted Emily in circles until she had to adopt the ballerina’s device to avoid dizziness. One point of stability in the room attracted her eye: the Admiral and his wife seated at a table off to one side. Mrs. Crichton had been content to open the ball with the first dance, and now held court next to her husband and the
BHR
’s XO, Capt Torricelli, and whoever might have the temerity to approach her table. Just then, her tablemates included Theo, Perry, and Capt Diao.
What could they be talking about?

A moment’s inattention and Ishikawa crashed into Zaki, or perhaps more accurately, bounced off him. CJ peeked over Zaki’s shoulder and smiled at Emily.

“I’m so sorry, Sergeant,” Zaki said. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“Oh no, Lieutenant. It was all my fault.”

Emily pulled Ishikawa away from her friends. “Why don’t you let me set the pace?”

Dice nodded and they found the rhythm again, following a smoother trajectory along a gentler deferent. Now, at least, it was possible to whisper in his ear, and she had plenty to talk about. She guided him past Tsukino and his dance partner, such an incongruous pairing, a curmudgeon like him still sporting a bandaged wrist and a dark cloud on his brow, and Soga Jin, who looked so accustomed to power and privilege.

Before she could find the words for the question she wanted to ask, Dice pulled her around until she found a more interesting face, Gyoshin Heiji’s in an unguarded moment, with an expression scarcely fit to be seen.
What could be torturing her so?
Dice pivoted again, and Emily saw the source of her pain.

“Heiji-san looks like someone just stabbed her in the back. Would I be mistaken in thinking it has something to do with Tsukino-san?”

No, Tenno-san,” he said, pausing to observe the scene from their corner of the floor. “You are not mistaken. I imagine it has everything to do with Moon.”

“What am I missing, Dice? Heiji-san and Soga-san seem much too refined to take any interest in an
ahondara
like him.”

“You are correct, Heiji-san and Soga-san come from two of the most ancient families. But Moon’s family, while not as distinguished as theirs, is connected to an important shrine.”

Other couples pressed past them, and Emily pulled Ishikawa further to the side. “I gathered that already from something Soga-san said to him at Narashino.”

“Yes. His family holds the hereditary priesthood at the
Atsuta-jingu
, and he is the only eligible male in his generation.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I say he doesn’t strike me as the priestly type.”

“He isn’t.”

“But even if he were, that would hardly explain why Heiji-san would be so distraught over his dancing with Soga-san, unless…”

“Why do you think we call him Moon? It certainly isn’t because of his name, or his big, fat face.”

“You mean…”

“Exactly. They were childhood sweethearts.” The smirk on Ishikawa’s face as he said this wasn’t intended to express disdain for his friend. Rather, as she understood perfectly well, he could hardly avoid being pleased to know something she didn’t.

“Now you’re gonna tell me some sort of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ story.”

“Romeo and who?”

“Shakespeare, dummy.” She tapped his forehead with one finger and returned the smirk. “You know, star-crossed lovers. What got in between them?”

“You
gaijin
are all the same, always full of quotes.”

Emily could hardly avoid laughing, when she saw the gleam in his eye.

“Fair enough. I deserved that. But what about our young lovers, what spoiled their hopes?”

“Her parents, or grandparents… some authority figure. You know the type. There’s always someone like that in the ancient families. They thought he wasn’t good enough for her.”

“But if he comes from one of the Shinto families, isn’t he ‘good enough’, like, by definition?”

“Yeah, maybe… I suppose. But they don’t have any money. Aristocrats like to act all dignified, but in the end, that’s what it all comes down to, and the Tsukinos didn’t have enough.”

“It’s the same story everywhere. But look at her face,” Emily said. “She must still care about him.”

“Don’t you think he still cares about her? I mean, just because he always wears that stupid expression on his face, that doesn’t mean it’s not eating away at him inside.”

“What about her?” Emily tipped her head in the direction of Soga Jin. “Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“The pain she’s causing her friend?” Emily tapped his forehead again, this time in earnest.

“What do you think?”

It was a fair question, she had to admit, since who should know the ways of women better than another woman. And she did know, though she was out of the habit of turning her mind into those paths of thought. Soga Jin must know, and Emily should have read it in the self-satisfied expression on her face as she let Tsukino twirl her around the dance floor. Flustered at having to be instructed in such a thing by a ruffian like Ishikawa, Emily bowed her head to him, and nudged him toward a table at the side of the room.

W
hen the alarm came
, it took the form not of a siren or a bell or even a gong, but of phones pinging one after another, and then in clusters, around the ballroom.

Gyoshin had retreated to her accustomed position on the edge of the excitement, shoulders pressed against a wall, as others joined in and enjoyed themselves. From her present vantage, she watched one table where Tenno-san held court, surrounded by young men, their obvious physicality complementing her own. She could have resented her for it, but for the casual indifference Tenno-san displayed toward them – only Kano-san seemed able to capture her attention. She could almost regret the necessity of killing them, since they so closely approximated the noble ideal she lamented the disappearance of – yet another irony besetting the grand scheme.

At another table, Jin-san sat with her father and Mr. Saito, and Capt Diao. Lt Otani sat next to him, looking both pleased and overwhelmed, a pathetic, little mouse, but one of those disappointing necessities in any great endeavor. Minoru Soga’s bodyguards hovered a few feet away. Gyoshin knew she should hold down a place at their table, and now that Tsukino-san had extricated himself from that woman’s attentions, she had regained the requisite composure. But she still couldn’t bring herself to do it. The phone in her clutch buzzed, and gave her an excuse to step back onto the patio.