eggburtshamslic

Recherché Chapter Ten

There on the crest of the hill stood Genma, his chest puffed with pride. "Brought you up this way on purpose, behold …the Fire Temple,” he said flinging wide his arms. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Five steps behind him, a wearied Kotetsu huffed, "There was an easier way to get here, wasn’t there?"

“Maybe,” he laughed, “but you have to admit it’s majesty was worth the trip.”

Ignoring the murderous gleam in his friend’s eye, Izumo positioned himself between the men. “It’s not every day we see something like this Genma," he said. "I don’t know how to thank you.”

Rubbing at the stitch in his side, Kotetsu grumped, “Well I do ‘Zumo. Soon as I catch my breath... I'm gonna strangle him ... and then …you.”

“Remember, we’re doing this for Iruka,” came the snipped reply from the side of his mouth. “You’re right, Tetsu, they did a remarkable job of incorporating the additions.”

“Naturally,” Genma said as his yellow toothed grin stretched wider. “The finest artisans and construction workers in the five nations make their home right here in Konoha. You see that building over there? That’s where the first group of monks used to spend their days meditating, studying bugei and practicing bujutsu; they were the Daimyo’s original guards and protectors of the cargo ships back in the early days. Bout thirty years ago, Hashirama Senju gifted the monks with another five acres of land and they … wait a minute Izumo, how’d you know about the additions?”

“Told you I was born in Konoha ... lived here for almost ten years. Before we moved they were almost finished with the newer buildings --”

“Oh, right,” Genma sheepishly said, “it’s coming back to me now.”

"Amazing, I can still remember the fragrance of incense they used on special occasions; the winds used to carry the aroma through the town on a summer's day--"

“Damn shame, that's what it was .. couldna happened at a worse time.”

“For cryin' out loud, 'Zumo! All this stoppin’ and startin’ is getting on my nerves. Damn fool can’t’ stay on one subject for--”

“Shhh! Sorry Genma … you were saying?”

“Hyuga girl's death ...what a hell of a way to kick off mating season.”

“Pardon? A death relates to the temple's buildings and the ‘mating season', how?”

“Sorry … didn’t realize I said bit out loud.”

“There's a big surprise,” Kotetsu mumbled.

“Half the territory is gonna come out to see her on a sad occasion – her tsuya is tonight, you know Had she lived, a select few would’ve seen her at her brightest and best at this same temple … on her wedding day, I mean.”

“Alright … we’re with you so far,” Izumo said, “but what about--?”

“The 'mating season'? We’re in it right now. The time of year when rich folk get together with their lawyers and matchmakers and plan next spring’s nuptials, a combining of fortunes, if you will. Konoha is near to ratifying trade agreements with Europe and that means new money’s gonna pour into the territory. Well, enough of that romance and finance stuff. That building over there is the lecture hall; you’ll find most of the monks this time of morning. I’m gonna head off to the gardens on your left and hopefully catch the chief priest before he starts meditating. You know, I kinda feel sorry for the new kid,” he said as they began their descent.

“Let me guess, he’s not talking about the head priest, is he?”

“Oh, excuse me, terrible habit … people tell me I’m a 'stream of consciousness' man; that’s a nice way of saying I blurt out what I’m thinking.”

“Psycho … is a more accurate term. Don’t know how much more I can take of this guy, Zumo--”

“About a year ago, yeah, that's right ...that young man came here to bury his father’s ashes,” Genma said. “Heard he used to live in Europe too.”

Izumo and Kotetsu held their tongues, having agreed silence would squeeze more from their ‘fat little duck’.

“Comes from old money he does, they probably talked him into hosting one of their shindigs by now. Makes sense … he’s filthy rich and a bachelor to boot,” he said tapping his pipe against the palm of his hand. “Father left him that huge mansion near the cemetery, owns about fifty acres of land further to the west and he’s got a house full of servants too. Businessmen been flocking around him like vultures ever since he got back; picking his brain, seeing if he’s got contacts over there they can exploit. Yep, I feel sorry for the new kid.”

“Well, I can tell you’re a world traveler,” Kotetsu mocked. “Europe’s vast, think you could be more specific?”

“Hmm," he said tamping the tobacco down in the bowl, "somebody said he used to live in London.”

“Really? That’s exciting news! There only about fifty Japanese people where we lived, so it’s possible we know him,” Izumo explained. “What's his name, Genma?”

“Names of folks I don't see on the regular get away from me, but I never forget a face. Saw him the night he arrived, he said, patting down his pockets for a matchbox. "Handsome lanky fella, I remember thinking how strange it was to see a head full of gray hair on such a young man; must be a family trait, that or somebody gave him a good fright. Something’s wrong with his left eye too, eyepatch barely covered a wicked lookin’ scar.” The biting smell of phosphorous and tobacco brought tears to their eyes as Genma puffed away. “Surname is Hajame or Hataji … something like that.”

Kotetsu and Izumo turned to one another smiling broadly.

“Hatake,” they whispered.

Recherché

One uninterrupted hour, that’s all she wanted; sixty minutes of serenity, that’s all she needed to clear her mind, reorganize her priorities and loosen that annoying crick in her neck. With an eye to evading recognition, she’d left her hair unbound, exchanged the familiar green haori for a sapphire outer cloak and forsook her usual spot under a spreading tree. Unfortunately, even holding a tabloid newspaper before her face didn't keep the steady stream of townsfolk from stopping by to express support and share their concerns.

Should have followed my first mind and took myself home for a nap when I had the chance, she thought when the last of the well-wishers dispersed. Might as well go back to the office … sure Ibiki’s there by now. As she stood, most of the newspaper slipped free of her lap, scattering itself over the bench. With a mumbled curse and a quick pivot, she turned to retrieve it. Suddenly, something sturdy collided with her hip and the ground rose to meet her. What the hell?

“Gosh, I’m sorry ma’am ... wasn’t watching where I was going.” A brown arm shot across her chest, shielding her from impact with the sharp gravel surrounding the bench; a warm hand caught her by the elbow, and the concerned face of a panicked young man abruptly appeared in her line of sight.

“I’ll thank you to unhand me,” she gruffly said glancing down at the arm smashed against her bosom.

“Oh … pardon me. Didn’t hurt you, did I? Again, I'm so sorry.”

Set to give him a piece of her mind once she could stand unaided, the moment she saw those kind brown eyes brimming with fretfulness, she lost the will to chew him out. “I’m fine … question is,” she said pointing to his bloodied bandaged hand, “are you alright?”

Recherché

“Damn… more stairs Zumo?”

“What did you think those long white stone things leading up to the temple gates were ... flocks of seagulls?”

He stroked at his goatee as he stared off into the distance. “You’re a regular riot, but if you look at 'em sideways, like this,” he said tilting his head, “kinda look like slices of coconut layer cake.”

“Coconut layer cake? Oh no, it’s happening again!”

Genma nervously looked back and forth between them. “What? What’s happening?” Watching Kotetsu stagger off the steps toward an open area ringed with fruit trees to their right, he grabbed at Izumo’s wrist, “What’s wrong with him?”

Izumo waited quietly as Kotetsu tottered onto a patch of grass and unceremoniously dropped to his knees. He’s playing this to the hilt. Guess I'll have to step up my game too, he thought, turning to the mortified mortician. “Having one of his spells,” he whispered. “Before we left London, Kotetsu was diagnosed with a serious illness … narcolepsy, that's what the doctor said. Ever heard of it?”

Genma shook his head. “Never, and I pride myself on keeping abreast of the latest illnesses. Death certificates are legal documents don't you know; hafta provide an accurate cause of demise. Narcolepsy,” he sounded out the word carefully, “that’s a new one on me. He’s so young." He paused, looking around Izumo to the shallow breathing man on his knees. "Seemed healthy he did. “This illness ... it’s not fatal, is it?”

Excusing the hopeful note in the undertaker’s voice, Izumo kept a straight face saying, “Afraid not. More than anything it's embarrassing. He’s awful sensitive about it Genma, please … don’t tease him when he comes around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Just then, Kotetsu keeled over, crumpling onto his side as Genma’s eyebrows disappeared under the hat’s headband. “What’s happening to him now?”

“That my friend, is cataplexy . . . a sudden, uncontrollable loss of muscle tone triggered by intense emotion; usually happens before the narcolepsy takes firm hold of him. These episodes come on stronger when he’s overtired or famished,” he calmly said as they walked to the place Kotetsu lay.

“Had I but known he was in poor health ...would’ve taken the shortcut.”

“Relax, it’s not entirely your fault. I should have made him eat something before we left his morning. Come on, help me get him to that tree over there and onto his back.”

Dragged a short distance and shifted into a supine position between them, Genma leaned over Kotetsu’s body. “How long you think he’ll be out of it?”

“Oh ... I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he cautioned when Genma moved to check his friend’s pulse. “Might attack you … learned that the hard way. Just leave him be – in a few minutes or a half an hour, he’ll wake refreshed, completely unaware of how he got here,” he said leaning against the tree. “Let's make the best of this situation, shall we?”

Glancing down on the stricken man, up to Izumo and finally toward the temple, Genma said, “Feel kinda responsible for his state, I’m real sorry about that. But since the priest isn’t going anywhere, reckon we can take a short break.” Flipping off his hat, he dabbed at the sweatband with his handkerchief. “You two been friends a long time have you?”

“Yeah, the three of us practically grew up together.”

“Hmm ... explains why you look alike.”

“Me and Kotetsu?”

“No, I mean in profile, you and that Dr. Umino fella bear a striking resemblance. I’d bet my last dollar you're related.”

“Good eye, Genma … our fathers were brothers, half brothers actually and--”

“Consanguinity,” he said, slapping his thigh. “I knew it! Hey, he’s coming to.”

He gave Kotetsu the once over and a subtle kick to the shin. “I think not, Genma. He’ll rest for another ten minutes or so. As I was saying, those were fun times growing up in London, we got up to such mischief,” he laughed. “What else can you tell me about the other young man … this Hajame person?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Genma turned the hat crown side down on his lap. "Practically a recluse, I hear. Those creative types usually are; they sleep all day, work all night--”

“So, he’s an artist or musician, I take it.”

“Nah, he's the brainy type, used to be a doctor or surgeon - now he's a writer. Translates textbooks, fluent in four languages, used to travel extensively, so says the rumor mill.”

"I’m sure we know him then. My father and uncle worked with anatomists and illustrators to translate English medical texts into Japanese. Well what do know about that? We travel halfway round the globe just to meet someone who probably lived across the street from us." He closed his eyes for a moment. “A chance to renew an acquaintance with someone that knew my father; may his soul rest in peace.” His eyes popped open and he turned to Genma saying, “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I? You have no idea how thrilling the prospect of reconnecting with someone from our old stomping grounds--”

“No, no, I got it ... but as I said, this guy’s a hermit. Wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for an invitation to tea--"

"I'm sure you're right, Genma."

"While I'm at it, allow me to correct myself. This guy isn't from London ... I remember hearing he came from a place called Cornwall . . . that’s a suburb of London, isn't it?”

“A town 250 miles southwest of London is hardly a suburb--”

“Right then ... maybe this guy isn’t who you think he is.”

“Yeah,” Izumo blew out a long breath, “maybe he isn’t.”

Suddenly, Kotetsu’s legs start twitching and his entire upper body shakes violently.

“Oh, my god Izumo! Is he having a seizure? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No, he’ll be fine,” was Izumo’s distracted response. “It’s probably an anger stroke--”

“What?”

“Look, you’ve already done us a huge favor, Genma; the temple’s in sight. I know how much lies before you today, so why don’t you just go on without us?”

Genma was on his feet in an instant. "If you insist,” he said, considering the grimacing face of Kotetsu and the vacant eyes of Izumo, “you sure he’s gonna be okay?”

Note:

Consanguinity: relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship.

Recherché Chapter Five

Miles from a bustling town plaza and worlds apart from the malodorous constable’s den, this scenic shortcut was everything Genma promised. Shielded by a canopy of dragon’s blood red maple trees, dappled sunlight played leapfrog at their feet over the hardened red clay path leading to the temple. Creeping groundcover swayed under the weight of pollen laden bees. The steeper the incline, the headier the perfume of shrubbery blooming out of their seasons – jasmine, heliotrope, sweet alyssum and loquat trees. A pity . . . for this place, a balm for the weary soul and a delight for the senses, was going to waste; the one man best able to appreciate its ambiance, was probably sitting in a meeting with the Governor. Sandwiched between the multiloquent mortician pointing out the cultural significance of every pebble, plant and paving stone along the way, and the choleric Kotetsu, who’d taken to mumbling humorously creative curse words under his breath, Izumo was hard pressed to keep a smile on his lips and his own temper in check.

And at the rate things were going, the urge to turn back after throttling both of them was becoming harder to resist.

“Mr. Shiranui,” he said, praying his tone wouldn’t give away the irritation he felt, “We appreciate the time you’ve set aside to accompany us to the temple but--”

“Think nothing of it and please, call me Genma,” he huffed, putting more distance between them. “Had to go to the temple anyway . . . huge wake tonight, huge funeral tomorrow, you know. Have to . . . finalize arrangements with the priest and monks, make sure the altar’s prepared – things like that. I’ll bet you gents didn’t know the work of an undertaker was so complex . . . oh, that reminds me, I have to get back to the morgue before noon, so I’m afraid I won’t be accompanying you back to town . . . coffin delivery and a nōkan to perform--.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it . . . a red-letter day for you,” Kotetsu sniped. “How much longer before we get there?”

About a quarter of a mile I reckon, we’re almost at the crest of the hill. Don’t tell me a strapping young buck can’t keep up with an old man like me?”

Izumo felt his friend bristle beside him and from the corner of his eye, he saw him open his mouth to say something churlish. Mercifully, Genma was quicker on the draw.

“My apologies, we could’ve made better time on horseback; unfortunately, the only stables nearby belong to the constables and frown on hiring out their mounts to civilians.”

“Not a problem, a brisk walk in the fresh air will do us good,” Izumo assured him.

“Well let me know if you gents need to stop and catch your breath. Meanwhile, if you look to your left, that stone lantern over there was a gift from the Land of Earth I think.”

As their nescient cicerone moved up the path, Izumo nudged his friend in the ribs drawing his attention to a brace of colorful waterfowl zigzagging their way through the bulrushes and sword ferns near shallow ponds. Soon, they formed a cluster of shiny orange and black beaks and flapping feathers as they waddled closer to the winding footpath.

It took a few minutes before Genma realized they weren’t walking behind him, and when he turned about he chuckled saying, “Don’t mind them. Those little buggers are used to getting handouts from the pilgrims along this path. Once they realize you have no bread fragments or sweet corn kernels to give them, they’ll quiet down and leave us alone. Now, let me direct your attention to …”

“Humpf … “Kotetsu whispered, “wonder what it will take to make him quiet down and leave us alone?"

A shared, guilty snicker rippled between the two young men. “’Cut it out Tetsu, we’re being rude to our host.”

“Like he cares, Zumo. We’ve hardly gotten a word in edgewise since we left the constable’s office, you think he’s paying attention to us now? I say we ditch him."

“I think that unwise.” Holding up his hands to forestall interruption he added, “Consider this, we showed up on law enforcement’s doorstep the very morning a high-profile murder victim was discovered and didn’t exactly keep it secret that we have information about the killer terrorizing these people. I’m sure that didn’t sit well with Inspector Morino--”

“And that’s why I hate involving the police Zumo.” Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, lukewarm hostility tinged his voice when he said, “We always end up being scrutinized and spied on. Why can’t they see we’re trying to help them?”

“How well did we understand upon first hearing such things?”

Slowly, the look of exasperation slid off Kotetsu’s face though his body was still wound tighter than a spool of silk thread. “Yeah . . . well, Iruka’s father had lost most of his marbles toward the end, and this hoo-hah about gaki and stuff like that did sound ridiculous--”

“Of course it did.” He threw an arm around his friend's shoulder and pulled him close. "Try to understand, the people living here are paranoid, practically jumping at their own shadows and the police are walking around in circles, searching for a scapegoat to parade before the people. If we ‘ditch’ Genma, you can bet he’ll report everything we’ve said and done to the Inspector in excruciating detail; that would make us look even more suspicious to the police.” He stepped back and looked his friend in the eyes, “We already stick out like two sore thumbs around here . . . well, you more so than me; two rakishly handsome young men, all gussied up in tailored suits surrounded by kimonos, hakama and pushcarts. For now, it's in our best interests to lay low and follow Iruka’s lead like we promised.”

Watching the fat little ducks come closer as they stood on the stair, Izumo reached into his pocket, pretending to throw a fistful of nothing toward them.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Just watch.” The knot of ducks instantly scattered when Izumo's arm dropped to his side; each of them scrambling for a morsel of the imaginary treats. They all gave up at the same time; once reassembled they quacked louder as they boldly drew close to the two men.

“See that? To you and me, that loudmouth mortician’s a nuisance,” Izumo said, “but Genma’s like these ducks; fat, happy and stuffed full of confidential information. He’ll quack louder and struggle to keep us close on the off chance of getting a ‘treat’ like learning of our plans before the time is right. All we have to do is throw bits of general information his way." The twinkle in Kotetsu's eyes let him know that he understood. “If we keep his little brain occupied, he might give us something we can use.”

“’Zumo this is going to take forever--”

“I don't think so, he’s a blabbermouth. In the meantime, settle down and stay focused. We promised Iruka we'd move at his pace, and we’re going to stick to the plan,” he said, as he further invaded Kotetsu’s space. “We mobilize on Iruka’s say so, not a moment sooner. We clear?”

“I’m not stupid! I’m just saying, I can’t believe Iruka ran off and left us with this insufferable gasbag!”

“Shush, he’ll hear you!”

“Please ‘Zumo, the man loves the sound of his own voice too much, he still hasn’t realized we’re not walking behind him anymore. What a jackass!”

Another intentional and very sharp poke to the ribs doubled Kotetsu over this time, sending the ducks squawking and flapping when he stumbled off the path.

“Oi,” Genma turned and said. “You alright back there Kotetsu?”

“Yes, he’s well,” Izumo volunteered. “I assure you, he usually isn’t this clumsy.”

An extended hand was pushed away by the angry out of breath Kotetsu who glared daggers at his friend.

“Of course, that’s right, I’d almost forgotten about your long time at sea. You two probably didn’t get much sleep last night either, considering the last passenger ship didn’t disembark until well after midnight. You were on that ship, right?”

“Guess the long journey has finally caught up with us. Not to worry Genma, he’ll be fine, won’t you Kotetsu?”

Notes:

Multiloquent: speaking much, very talkative; loquacious.

Choleric: extremely irritable or easily angered.

Nescient: unknowing.

Cicerone:  tour guide; leader of a sightseeing tour.

Nōkan: a funeral ritual; the body is washed and the orifices blocked with cotton or gauze. The mortician wraps the body, and dresses it; in Hitomi’s case, she’ll be clothed in a white kimono. The body is then placed on dry ice inside the coffin and certain items like a pair of sandals, another white kimono and six coins for crossing the River of Three Crossings are placed in the coffin as well. The body is normally arranged with its head toward the north, or as a secondary choice, toward the west. In Buddhism, the western orientation reflects the western realm of Amida Buddha.