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section7mfu2015-05-19 10:33 am
"The House of Bamboo" Chapter 2~ for PicFic Tuesday.
Once roused, Shinjiru brought supplies to see to Illya’s wound.
His shirt was removed and she cleaned, stitched and bandaged it with a delicate touch; bringing a sturdy piece of cloth for him to use as a temporary sling.
“It is not deep Kuryakin-san and should heal well if I have done my job correctly,”the girl spoke in English.
“I am afraid I ruined one of your lady’s silk scarfs,” Illya held it up with his right hand.
“Blood is difficult to remove, especially from silk, but I will endeavor to do so,” she shyly smiled. She assisted him to put on a short kimono as well as slipping his arm into the sling.
"I will return with your shirt and jacket once I have cleaned and repaired them.”
“Anata wa anata no Shinjirō-san ni kansha, mottomo shinsetsude yasashīdesu.,” You are most kind and gentle, thank you Shinjiro-san,” Illya bowed to her.
The girl blushed at his words, bowing herself, but said nothing more as she quickly left.
“Hmm I think she'd like to see more of you than just being shirtless,” Napoleon grinned.
“Do you not ever think about anything else?” Illya huffed.
“What do you think?”
“That I should not have even bothered asking you that question as it was a waste of my breath.” He removed the sling, opting to go without it.
Solo shook his head at his all too serious Russian partner.
After giving the Lady Michiko sufficient time for she and her other servants to recover, both Solo and Kuryakin met with her in the formal reception room where the tea ceremony had been performed.
She was attired in a more simple kimono, one that looked suitable for traveling. It was a deep grey color, her hair draped down below her back instead of being arranged in an ornate wareshinobu style. No silver combs and ornaments adorned her hair today and she wore little makeup.
Seeing her in the daylight caught Napoleon’s attention, as she was stunning, with perfect skin and eyes he could very easily get lost in...but not today.
Shinjiru appeared, entering the room in silence; she opened a set of sliding doors behind her mistress, letting in the sweet scent of the early morning air filled with a hint of cherry blossoms.
Illya was surprised at being able to smell the flowers; they truly had a very light cherry fragrance, but usually it was one you could only really smell if you literally stuck your nose into the flower and took a whiff.
Given the property surrounding the Tokugawa compound was filled with mature cherry trees it made sense their fragrance would fill the air. These were not the type that yielded fruit, but their stems did resemble those on cherries and even the blossoms could be eaten.
Gazing out at the garden behind the Lady Michiko, Illya found it serene, with scattered rocks and moss resembling little islands, surrounded by neatly combed sand, done is such a way that it appeared as flowing water with the perimeter lined by dwarf trees and shrubbery.
In the center of the garden was a larger island and from it was growing a stand of bamboo.
Shinjiru stood close to the doors, trying to remain as invisible as possible while Michiko spoke to the agents. Illya noticed just a hint of nervousness in the girl, and wondered what might be causing it.
She was fully recovered from the knock-out gas with no discernible after effects, unlike Solo who still had a headache...though perhaps Shinjiru did and said nothing about it.
The girl kept glancing over at the Russian.
Perhaps Napoleon was right about her liking him,” Illya thought,” but now was not the time to think of such things.”He drew his attention back to the Lady of the house.
“I am sorry gentlemen but I remember nothing, as do my servants,” Michiko gestured to her attendants, who nodded in agreement.
Illya listened carefully as he finally stepped just outside to a narrow raised walkway, there he inspected the neatly manicured Zen style garden. It appeared to be a central courtyard within the house; typical of the well-to-do to have such a luxury,” he thought.
Most of the neighborhoods in the Japanese cities were houses piled one upon the other with little space for such a garden. Then again Tokugawa family was prestigious, and this was most likely not their only home.
“Lady Michiko,” Napoleon spoke. “Why would someone want to steal the portrait, and now of all times?”
“Mr. Solo, I have no idea... unless whoever took it might wish to hold it for ransom? We have no enemies that I am aware of. My family is no longer one who wields power in this country, but because of our history we are shown respect and honor, nothing more than that. Though we are well off, we are far from wealthy, by any means.”
“What about the Yakuza?” He asked.
Michiko’s face paled at the mention of that name.
”Though as an organization the Bōryokudan...what you call organized crime known as Yakuza, can trace their origins to the Edo period, when the Tokugawa clan was in power; I would doubt their involvement in the theft of the portrait of Katsumi. Theirs is a world of drugs and gambling, not the theft of an historical artwork.”
“One never knows Lady Michiko,” Napoleon said.
The doors from the corridor abruptly opened and in walked a shaggy-haired young man, dressed in black pants and a black turtle neck.
“Hey was’ goin’ on sis. It’s like sunrise, you’re never up this early.” He looked at Solo and Kuryakin.
“And who are these dudes?”
Michiko’s demeanor changed completely, and she scowled at the boy.
“Tetsuya, I see you are just returning home. Another night of drinking saki and gambling?” She hissed at him. opening her red hand fan with a quick snap of the wrist, fanning herself for a second to cool her anger.
“Gentlemen. Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin this is my brother Tetsuya. Please forgive his abrupt and rude entrance as well as appearance.” Michiko turned her attention from the agents.
“Shinjiro, show my brother to his room please that he might dress himself properly. We must go see Mr. Shimada, Tetsuya.”
“Tha’s right sis’ just push me around as usual. You need to shed that kimono of yours and get out in the real world an’ stop bein’ part of the past. You need to live! Go listen to some rock and roll! And I’m going to bed so you can do what you gotta’ do without me.” It was obvious Tetsuya was a little drunk.
“Enough!” Michiko clapped her hands, dismissing him.
Once he and Shinjiru left she spoke again.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse my brother’s behavior, he is too enamored of the West I am afraid. I beg your pardon, but I must leave now,” Michiko gracefully bowed, ”I have a meeting with my financial advisor. Feel free to remain here, however, I suggest you try to find my missing portrait before it becomes public knowledge. I am sure U.N.C.L.E. wishes to avoid an international scandal.”
The lady and her attendants disappeared through another set of screen doors, leaving the agents alone.
“Napoleon, there is something odd going on here,” Illya said
“What do you mean?”
The Russian directed him to the garden.”I presumed the thieves were ninjas after seeing their attire and being wounded by a shuriken, a weapon for which they are well known.” He absentmindedly touched his hand to his left shoulder.
“And now?”
“I think they were imposters. Someone trained in those arts would probably not have missed killing me with the throwing star, and “he pointed down to the sunken garden,” they most assuredly would have not left those footprints in the sand.”
There were two distinctive set of footprints leading across the garden; their positioning a tell tale sign the people they belonged to were running. Illya also took note of the footprints being somewhat small for what he presumed were men.
“Japanese males, though shorter in stature on average would still have a wider footprint. These are quite narrow, petite even, and might belong to females.”
The agents stepped outside, walking along the perimeter of the garden and stopped on the opposite side, seeing sand on the floor boards. Opening the nearest door; they saw the black clothing folded neatly, laying on a table.
Napoleon picked it up, holding out in front of himself to take a better look. It appeared to be what a ninja might wear, though quite small, enough to fit a woman as Illya had surmised.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking tovarisch?”
“Inside job and they were women?” Kuryakin nodded.
On the wall, mounted within a black frame were a pair of katana swords, those used by the ancient samurai. Upon closer examination, they did not appear to be old and one of them needed cleaning. Illya took out a handkerchief and carefully ran it along the blade. What stained the cloth appeared to be dried blood.
“Things are becoming curiouser and curiouser,”he said, looking at his partner.
“You’ve got that right tovarisch.” Napoleon rubbed his temples as his head was still pounding. He looked at his wristwatch, noting it was nearly time for another check-in with headquarters, though there was nothing concrete to report. Only suppositions at this point…
Another set of doors suddenly opened and Tetsuya stepped in, this time dressed in only a tee-shirt and a pair of briefs.
He cursed at the agents in Japanese, grabbing one of the katana swords from the wall. He swung it, slicing the clothing from Napoleon’s hands.
There was a flash and again the room filled with a thick white smoke. Solo and Kuryakin charged through it this time, but Tetsuya was gone.
“What did you say about things being curiouser?” Napoleon said; his eyes now tearing from the smoke.
Illya’s face was expressionless as he nodded to his partner; his cheeks wet as well from watering eyes.
They both became aware of the presence of someone standing behind them, and spun around; their guns still drawn.
“Oh!”Shinjiru was startled.”Kuryakin-san, I have your shirt and jacket for you…and here, cloths to wipe your eyes.
The agents were at a loss as to how the woman had just appeared without either of them noticing her entrance and how she knew to have cloths for their eyes.
“Even more curious,”Illya said aloud.
Chapter 3
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I do like the Zen garden. And Napoleon and Illya keeping alert and thinking.
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