Steel Rain (5 page)
"I have seen them fight!"
"You forget. Mitsuharu has been on medication since his oral surgery. Jiksumi indulged too often in wine."
This changes nothing. "Perhaps the killers were not trained as assassins. That does not make them amateurs. No amateur would survive against Sukayo-san. And the extensive augmentations of the killer who came for me indicates a highly paid operative. A skilled combatant. To do what they have done takes discipline and organization."
Gongoro sneers. "Like
teppodama
."
The idea gives Machiko pause.
Teppodama
are "bullets." The term is used to refer to the occasional need for the lowest-sanked members of a clan, the
kobun
, to perform tasks like those of a warrior.
Kobun
are rarely warriors of a degree comparable to members of the Guard, but they may at times be called upon, like warriors, to demonstrate their loyalty to the clan by placing themselves at risk. They may risk injury or death, or perhaps only the chance of arrest and imprisonment. The point is that they must be prepared to prove themselves in ways that go beyond mere words, not only for the clan but for the oyabun, or the Chairman, as Honjowara
-sama
is properly called.
"You conceive of some similarity between these killers and loyal
kobun
?" Machiko says.
"They are muscle!" Gongoro growls. "Nothing more than muscle. The killers were crude. They relied upon brute force."
"But the killers' augmentations," Ryokai says.
"This proves nothing!" Gongoro exclaims. "I could go into Manhattan's Terminal zone and be outfitted with a mountain of surplus cyberware for nothing more than the price of a Tachi Monarch." To Machiko, Gongoro says, "If this killer had been so highly paid and efficient, you would be dead."
Indeed, Machiko feels compelled to admit, if only to herself, that Gongoro does have a point. The mere presence of extensive cybernetic augmentations does not prove anything. The metal could be junk, so much non-functional dead weight. But there is another point Gongoro misses. "You were not there," Machiko says. "You do not know how close this killer came."
"I know that you live."
Machiko steps near him, to within one arm's length, and says, "I live because I sought death."
And there the discussion pauses.
Gongoro dares not sneer. Machiko makes it this way deliberately. Once her words are spoken, she waits, holding Gongoro's gaze. She feels again the grip of her katana in her hand, though the sword remains slung at her back, and the unyielding spirit that led her to defeat her attacker, her enemy. Gongoro recognizes this. She sees the recognition in his expression, growing wary, and in his eyes, becoming hesitant, uncertain. At length, she sees it in the brief bow of acknowledgment he accords her. Thus he admits that, regardless of the killer's skill, she has gone where few would dare, where fewer still have the spirit to survive. She has gone to death, faced death, embraced it. A failure to honor this would be a very grave affront, demanding an immediate response.
Ryokai bows as well.
"I speak out of loyalty to the Honjowara-
gumi
," Gongoro says, and this once his tone is nearly civil. "I tell you these killers are muscle. They are
kobun!
"
"Of what clan?"
"The Yoshida
-kai
."
This would seem absurd but for the immense gravity of the circumstance. The Nagato Combine is composed of three main clans: the Honjowara-
gumi
, the Toki-
gumi
, and the Yoshida
-kai
. What Gongoro is suggesting is that a staunch ally of the Chairman and his Honjowara-
gumi
has for all intents and purposes committed treason."
"That is a remarkable opinion, Gongoro-san," Machiko says in her quietist voice. "An opinion that could lead us all onto dangerous ground."
"Do you fear such opinions?"
"What I fear is that you are insane. What
kami
whispers into your ear that you would conceive of such nonsense?"
"You fear what I say because it is true!"
"The Yoshida
-kai
," Machiko says, "has been the leading partner to our clan for nearly two decades, a valued ally since before either of us were born. They are traditionalists, yes. They have reservations about the Chairman's New Way, yes. Their leadership has sometimes objected vehemently to the Chairman's decisions. Yes. This is so. But it does not make them traitors or enemies."
Gongoro's next words emerge like acid. "Yoshida
-kai
is rank with hatred for all metas."
"You exaggerate."
Gongoro snarls. "There are those among the Yoshida
-kai
who would gladly aid in the extermination of all metatypes. They would like nothing better than to begin with we who are most dependent on the Chairman's philosophy. They consider the Green Serpent Guard to be an insult directed specifically at the ancestors of their clan."
"That is absurd."
"It is fact!"
"You are saying that Yoshida has harbored resentment over this affront since Kuroda
-sensei
emerged from the Tir and pledged himself to the Chairman's service. That is more than twenty years ago. There would be no Nagato Combine if that was so. Yoshida
-kai
would never have joined. He would have reviled the Honjowara-gumi as a clan of
kawa
-
ruhito
, untouchables, utterly despicable subhuman refuse. He would have begun a war with the sole purpose of eliminating every last member of the Honjowara-
gumi
!"
Gongoro laughs bitterly, and briefly. "Twenty years ago, Yoshida Gennai was a tired old man desperate for allies. His son has proven to be just as weak. The people I speak of are now in the position whereby they could seize control of the Yoshida
-kai
with very little effort. The attacks against our members could be and probably are the first in a series of attacks by which they will seize control of their clan, perhaps the entire Nagato Combine."
Machiko breathes. "If these people wanted control of Yoshida
-kai
, they would not begin by attacking the Guard. They would kill Yoshida's son and take control. You have put the porter before his luggage."
Gongoro looks at her like she is the one gone mad. "Once they have seized control, it will be too late! We will be expecting their treachery. Now, they have succeeded in taking us unawares. In one night, they have cut down our best and brightest."
"And so they have rendered the GSG impotent? You speak nonsense."
"Do you deny Sukayo's ability as a leader? Do you suggest that we are not poorer for his loss? Then what of you? Sukayo's protege. How fit are you for command?"
This is infuriating. "We are like bricks in a wall. Never mind who is killed. We have many more bricks and all are capable of leading the Guard."
"Now you are the one who exaggerates."
"If you truly believe that Yoshida
-kai
is our enemy, it is your duty to relate this to the Chairman."
"It is not my duty. It is yours. You are the senior member."
"And you are senior next to me. The distinction is of no significance if you believe that our clan's foremost ally is in fact an enemy plotting to destroy us."
"No, you are senior member. The responsibility is yours." Machiko looks to the tree limbs overhead. This will be a long and trying night. Again, she wishes Sukayo-san were here. He would know how to answer Gongoro.
How to silence him.
Several times, Machiko-san seems at pains to lower her voice. Ryokai sees little point.
Despite the pounding in his head, it is clear to him that Machiko-san
's
words and Gongoro's growls carry far against the quiet of the night. The GSG standing watch by the main entrance to the Chairman's house can follow every word. And several times, though his eyes grow blurry with fatigue, he spots the faces of GSG stationed on the hillside turning to gaze uphill. It is troubling. The seniors of the Guard should work out their disagreements in private. This open display of dissension can only lead to further trouble, perhaps trouble enough to involve the entire GSG membership.
"Do not lecture me about duty, Gongoro-san," says Machiko. "I know my duty. Do you?"
Gongoro growls an angry reply.
Ryokai closes his eyes and tries to conceive of a means of ending the conflict peacefully. Yet he knows it is probably hopeless. Machiko and Gongoro are like mongoose and snake. It has always been this way between the two of them, ever since their early days at the academy of the Guard. Their mutual animosity first took tangible form during barehanded combat instruction. Grappling techniques. Gongoro twisted too hard, some say accidentally, and snapped Machiko's Wrist. Some weeks after that, during sword practice, Machiko swung her
boken
with such force, even with her wrist still in a cast, that she shattered her wooden practice sword, smashed the helmet on Gongoro's head, and struck him stone-cold unconscious.
Later, she apologized, but not before telling Ryokai, privately, of feeling Gongoro's burning resentment. Of his despising her for being female. For being forced to train with her.
"When I lifted my
boken
I felt I possessed all the power of a whirlwind. I had no mind, Ryokai-san. I could not help myself."
And often it has seemed just so, whenever she lifts a sword. Like a whirlwind arising. A force, once unleashed, beyond anyone's control. A power as sublime as nature itself.
Gongoro snarls, "You are a witch with that sword in your hand, but your spirit is weak. You will not speak for the GSG. You will not tell the chairman what he must be told. You will kneel like a woman and, like a fool, seek consensus." Machiko-san grunts. "You are intolerable."
"So you would say, because I am right!"
"Because you have the manners of a barbarian!"
Abruptly, Ryokai feels the ground beneath his feet tilting, tipping him backward, off-balance. For a fleeting instant, he expects to hear the roar of an explosion, uprooting the earth, feel the force of a shock wave, bowling him over. This does not occur. Instead, all is quiet, serene. He sees a faint stroke of white, like a blur of the crescent moon, through the dark canopy of the trees. He moves his feet to regain his balance; but strangely, his feet drag the earth. He glimpses a brief expanse of black night sky. He feels his back strike the ground. The pain in his head swells immense . . . and then, through eyes that keep drifting closed, he finds himself lying on the ground. Several people bending over him. Gazing at his face, the side of his head. A man in camo, but with medics' insignia on his chest. Two men. They are using strange words and fumbling with bandages and other items, difficult to make out.
"Ryokai-san . . ."
The voice is soft, almost tender, and yet so clear it might be coming from beside his ear. He tries to turn his head to look, but the pain in the side of his head now throbs down his neck into his shoulder. He feels himself wincing.
A gentle hand brushes hair out of his eyes, and then he sees her, leaning near. Her expression seems almost furious with concern. "Why did you not seek treatment?" asks Machiko. She looks toward the side of his head. "This is no scratch. You are still bleeding."
"Something tore the scalp," says the medic.
It is very embarrassing. Shameful. To be lying here so foolish and weak, while she, Machiko, gazes at him so sternly. How could he have allowed this to happen? He strives to sit up, to lift his head from the ground, but suddenly Machiko's hands are at his shoulders, and other hands too, and it is like the whole weight of the earth is pressing him back. His head throbs viciously. For a moment, he can see only blackness.
"Be still," Machiko is saying. "You must be treated. Ryokai, you are drenched in blood!"
It is not important. He had to come here to the estate, first for the Chairman, then for her. He must do his duty for the clan and for Machiko-san. He must prove himself an ally against Gongoro's venom. He must be strong, stronger than he feels, perhaps stronger than he has ever been. Perhaps Machiko does not know it, but she needs him. Now more than ever.
She leans so near he can smell the faint scent of sandalwood in her hair. "You are going to hospital," she says. "Do you hear me?"
Ryokai feels his cheeks grow warm. The shame is almost too much. Perhaps this gives him the strength to say, "Beware Gongoro."
Machiko questions him with her eyes.
"He wants control of the Guard. Do not let him bait you."
Faintly, Machiko nods. "Be still."
The words caress his ears like tender down.
The night grows very long indeed.
Machiko searches the deep shadows of the hillsides with her eyes. She listens. This is her duty. To keep spirit settled and a broad gaze upon the night. She has known many such nights. The waiting is not difficult if one regards one's own body as already dead. Tonight, though, her thoughts constantly stray.
Within the hour, the leadership of the clan begins arriving. Some could be described as
shatei
, like "younger brothers" to the Chairman. Others would be best considered like
wakashira
-
hosa
, members of the board of directors. Some represent the clan, the Honjowara-
gumi
; others represent Nagato Corporation. All are part of the Nagato Combine. They are escorted up the slope of the driveway by Major Hakatoro, greeted before the entrance by Machiko, and accorded every degree of respect their status demands. In light of the current emergency, all must be scanned for weapons before being admitted to the Chairman's home, but this is expected. Duty demands this be done and none offer objections. No weapons are found. The leaders of the Honjowara-gumi do not generally carry weapons, except on certain occasions, for this would be dishonorable, a serious breach of conduct, and wholly at odds with the Chairman's New Way.