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section7mfu2015-06-02 03:54 pm
"The House of Bamboo," Chapter 4 (the Conclusion) for PicFic Tuesday
links to: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3
The trip to Tokashiki Island was a bit dicier than Solo and Kuryakin had first anticipated. The weather was getting rough and the captain of the boat they’d chartered warned them of an on coming storm.
There was a ferry available from Tomari Port in Naha, but it was a slow moving one, taking over seventy minutes to arrive...Napoleon and Illya couldn’t wait that long.
They had no choice as they needed to arrive before the Lady Michiko and possibly her other co-conspirators.
Illya was prone to seasickness, sometimes even the calmest of seas could churn his stomach and turn his face the most odd shade of green.
Though the choppy waters, and white caps had the boat swaying to and fro, Illya was surprisingly unaffected.
This time it was Napoleon who suffered the ravages of being seasick. It was quite an embarrassment to Solo as he heaved over the side several times, given he was quite an experienced seaman. Yet even the most experienced seamen can suffer such a malady from time to time.
Napoleon sneered as Illya tried to hide his amusement. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, feeling a little better, but not by much.
“What are you looking at?”
“You really are the most interesting shade of green,” the Russian quipped.
“Stow it Kuryakin,” Solo mumbled. In truth he was now in complete sympathy with what his partner had been suffering with all these years, and he counted himself lucky he had never been sick like this before.
The boat finally motored in, tying off at a small dock that jutted out to the water. Parts of it were beginning to be swamped by the waves. Despite the rough sea, the waters nearest the island were a near magical blue color.
“I no can stay here. Very bad storm coming. You go to high ground on island, stay inside caves. I come back for you in two days time...if island still here,” Captain Fukushima laughed, trying to break the tension.
“Hi... Kyaputen wa i. Watashitachiha rikai shite imasu_ yes… yes Captain. We understand,”Illya bowed.
The wind was whipping up the palm trees on the island, as Fukushima pointed to the direction of the village with the same name as the island.
“You go that way. Village not far. Most people they go, move up to mountain after matsuri.”
“What’s that, a word for a storm?” Napoleon looked to his partner
“It is a festival held at the shrine of a deity,"Illya explained."
"In Japan there are countless local festivals because almost every shrien celebrates one of its own. Most festivals are held annually and celebrate the shrine's deity or a seasonal or historical event. Some festivals are held over several days. There are usually processions in which the local shrine's Shinto deity is carried through the village in palanquins called mikoshi. It is the only time of the year when the kami leaves the shrine to be carried around, on display for everyone to see."
“They’ll have it in spite of an oncoming storm?” Napoleon asked.
“I imagine they will, and everyone will most likely ascend to the mountain afterwards, or perhaps the procession will lead up there instead?.”
“Leaves the place conveniently empty if there is a real ransom exchage to take place, and I repeat...’if.’ I have my doubts. Still if it's going to happen, there’ll be no witnesses. How many people did you say live here tovarisch?
“I did not. The population has not fully recovered since the war. In 1945 nearly four hundred inhabitants, mostly from farmer families, immolated themselves with grenades after the landing of US troops. So there is at best a few hundred people here if that, from what I could gather.”
Napoleon cringed at that sort of violence. “The Japanese do like to commit suicide thing don’t they tovarisch,” Though he had been served in the army in Korea and had seen all sorts of death, but the idea of a civilians killing themselves was horrendous.
“It is said the retreating Japanese soldiers left hand grenades with the villagers and farmers while at the same time telling them stories about how American soldiers would slaughter the men, rape the women and eat the children. Pure rubbish of course, but never having seen the invading men before, the inhabitants had no idea they were being told lies. They were not ordered to kill themselves, but having hand grenades available, plus the stories….well they put two and two together.”
“I recall reading about the thousands and thousands of civilians who killed themselves during the conflict on Okinawa,” Napoleon said.
“Yes their minds were filled with the same dread-laced stories no doubt.”
Napoleon and Illya helped cast off the lines to the boat in silence, waving to the captain.
“ArigatÅ Fukushima-san,” Illya bowed again as he thanked the captain; casting a wary glance at his partner.
Solo took a moment to pull out a pair of binoculars, scanning the waters of the Pacific.
As their boat pulled away, he spotted another heading in a little farther down shore. On its deck were the Lady Michiko, Shinjiru and Ayame, as well as several men with, though Napoleon didn't recognize any of them.
“We better move fast tovarisch. Company has arrived.”
They dashed along the dock, trying to keep from getting washed away as waves broke over it.
The skies were more foreboding now as the two agents made it to terra firma; heading in the direction to which the captain had pointed them.
“Napoleon I have a bad feeling about this. If this is a cyclone heading our way, then being on this small island may become quite dangerous.”
“Always worrying aren’t you chum; though it was a shame we didn’t listen to a weather report before we started this,” the American shrugged,”but it still wouldn't have really mattered, would it? We have a mission to see to its conclusion. Things will be fine, trust me.”
“Ever the optimist Napoleon.”
“And you’re ever the fatalist. We make a great pair don’t we,” Napoleon flashed a reassuring grin.
Illya let one of his rare half-smiles escape while nodding his agreement.
They hiked onwards, finally coming to the outskirts of Tokashiki village. What looked like the square was filled with a sea of white Japanese parasols, remaining intact in spite of the growing winds as the festival goers prepared to honor the shrine of the local deity.
Everyone, perhaps a hundred or so, were dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, all white as were the decorations on the houses, consisting of strands of woven white flowers. A flock of doves had just been released, though they immediately retreated to the trees, seeking cover instead of flying off.
That, Illya supposed did not bode well as a sign to the villagers.
The air was filled with the sound of beating drums, as the as a man dressed more distinctly from the rest of the populace led the procession of the mikoshi, upon which sat the carved statue of the deity being honored.
“He is most likely the village shaman,”Illya said. “Shamanism is part of mainstream life here, and more deeply ingrained in people’s lives. Most likely surviving in a simple and unrefined form; it reflects beliefs that were buried by centuries of Shinto and Buddhist dogma on the main Japanese islands.”
“Illya when do you have time to learn all this?”
“Remember, eidetic memory. If I have read it, I recall it...and you know how I like to read,” Illya snickered.
“Yes, don’t remind me.”
The tranquility of the unfolding scene was disrupted by the wind as it suddenly gusted, accompanied what sounded like thunder; sending the celebrants scattering like insects as they dove to get out indoors.
Parasols went flying in the air in every direction as the two Gaijin...one blond, the other dark-haired ran among them, guns in their hands.
That wasn’t thunder, but gun fire.
Following the sound; the agents rushed to a larger house located at the top of the path, where they heard more gunfire coming from inside.
They split up, with Illya heading round back, and Solo heading to the the front entrance. Before he could do so, the door burst open and out flew none other than Tetsuya Tokugawa. He had a tube in one hand, large enough to house the rolled up portrait of Katsumi.
In his other hand was a Nambu semi-automatic pistol. It was the type used during the war and had an eight round magazine...of which, if Solo’s count had been correct; eight shots had already been fired.
“You have no bullets left, so why don’t you just give up and surrender the portrait,” Napoleon said, pointing his Special at the young man.
“Solo-san, you do not understand. I did not steal it. It was my sister and her lover.”
“If you think I’ll believe you, you’re sorely mistaken. Now get up Tetsuya, you and your sister’s attempt at fraud will be sending you to jail for a long time.”
“No Solo-san, you have it all wrong man!” Michiko and her lover…”
“And who might that lover be?” Napoleon asked, not really expecting a believable answer.
“That would be me.” A handsome dark-haired man stood in the doorway, a black patch covering his right eye. He held a pistol aimed directly at the boy and not the American.
“So you are Napoleon Solo, please if you would be so kind as to drop your weapon and put your hands up or I will be forced to kill Tetsuya. He is telling you the truth; he did not steal the portrait. His sister and I made the arrangements.”
Napoleon lowered himself before releasing his gun to the ground. As he stood, placing his hands with his fingers linked together atop his head.
“And Ayame and Shinjiru were your willing assistants I suppose?”
“No I am afraid, like Tetsuya here, they were too honorable. Honor is a thing of the past, in a Japan that is becoming modern...it is money and power that matters.”
“Isn’t the Lady Michiko a bit traditional to suit your taste then?”
“She has her uses. Do you think I am going to share the millions to be made from this portrait? I intend it to all to fund my scientific research. Now you Mr. Solo and Tetsuya, if you both will please accompany me inside.”
“Who are you?” Napoleon finally asked.
“I am Doctor Daisuke Serizawa.”
That name meant nothing to Napoleon now, and he had no idea that someday it would...
Once inside Solo and Tetsuya were bound and escorted to a small room, there joining Shinjiu and her sister whose hands were also tied behind their backs.
“I am sorry sisters, I failed,” Tetsuya whispered to them.
Minutes later Solo heard a ‘pssst,” coming from a nearby window. Up popped a familiar blond head, followed by the rest of Kuryakin as he climbed inside.
“I cannot take you anywhere can I Napoleon?” He whispered.
Illya quickly untied everyone, handing his backup pistol to Solo. They helped Tetsuya and his sisters climb out the window, instructing them to get away and find shelter from the storm.
Tetsuya wanted to stay and help but was refused.
“Take care of Ayame and Shinjiru,” Napoleon ordered him.
“It is your duty as the only male in the Tokugawa family line to do so,” Illya said.
That struck a chord with the boy and he nodded his acceptance. Together, he and his half sisters disappeared into the swaying foliage.
Napoleon opened the sliding door, as he and Illya stepped out into the corridor. They could hear muffled voices not far off.
Moving slowly towards the location, they paused outside the door; hearing the voice of Michiko pleading with Serizawa.
“You promised if I did this we would be married and rebuild my family home. We would life in luxury, and now you want all of the money for your ridiculous research?”
“I am on the verge of a making a great discovery and you dare call it ridiculous? My research on the elements... their effects upon other objects and organisms is important. I have discovered a new element, a ‘micro-oxygen’ that can create a destructive chemical reaction capable of liquefying molecules by separating their oxygen atoms.”
At first he was horrified at the destructive potential of his ‘Oxygen Destroyer’ but the doctor chose to continue researching it, confident the could take it beyond its raw form and develop it to potentially benefit society one day.
“I don’t care about your research Daisuke, I care about us. That is why I staged the theft. Selling the portrait as well as collecting the insurance money will give us a wonderful life,” Michko pleaded her case.
“You are a fool,” the doctor pushed her away from him, holding up the tube that contained the portrait of Katsumi.
“But Daisuke!”
He backhanded her across the face. “Take her and put her with the others,” he order the two men there with him.
“Daisuke please!” Michiko begged and began to scream as the men took hold of her.
Solo and Kuryakin burst through the flimsy door; Illya shooting the men with sleep darts.
Napoleon tackled Serizawa to the floor; the two men wrestling for control. Solo seemed to have the upper hand until the house began to shake.
The storm had arrived.
Horizontal rain came down in torrents and a powerful wind tore the roof from the house and it fell apart around them.
Serizawa pulled himself up from the rubble, dashing out into the storm.
Illya was the first to dig himself out, and while fighting the winds and rain, he clammered for the others, pulling off pieces debris where he thought the others were.
Michko was the first to be found but she was dead, impaled upon a bamboo spike. Moments later he saw a hand...with a star sapphire the pinky finger reach upwards, in it was clasped the white cylinder protecting the portrait.
Illya pulled Napoleon up, and the two made a hasty retreat, heading up into the mountains; the winds and rain nearly knocking them to the ground several times.
There they found a small cave occupied by a number of the villagers who had set up camp. They had a small fire going, cooking rice over it, others had cooked fish wrapped in leaves. They offered the gaijin food and tea; gladly accepted by the agents so as to not be rude.
There they all remained until the storm subsided.
Gathering in what was left of the village, family and friends were reunited.
Napoleon and Illya found Tetsuya, Ayame and Shinjiu who were none the worse for wear, though Dr. Serizawa was no where to be found.
They broke the news of Michiko’s death to the family, who in spite of their sister’s betrayal, mourned her loss.
Napoleon removed the portrait of Katsumi from the tube, and sadly the upper portion of the silk had gotten wet, making some of the dark pigments run like tears. He handed it over to Tetsuya.
“This is yours now,” Solo said.
“It is the source of all our troubles. Perhaps it is time for it to go?” The boy said.
“You are not going to destroy it?” Illya asked.
“No Kuryakin-san, but perhaps it should be sold to Japanese museum, I think. It is time for others to see it as it is a part of my country’s history. We...my sisters and me can use the money too.”
Napoleon smiled at the boy, acknowledging Ayame and Shinjiru as his sisters and not acting as though they were servants was a sign of maturity. Perhaps Tetsuya would stop being the rebellious young man, and honor his family name now the Michko was gone.”
They obtained dry clothing from some of the villagers, and were served green tea after assisting with some of the clean up. Illya sat to one side, talking with Shinjiu.
Napoleon pulled his communicator, contacting headquarters.
Channel D- overseas relay.”
“Mr. Solo, please tell me you have good news? I will forgive your lack of communication in the matter if it is indeed a positive outcome to this debacle.”
“Yes sir, it’s mostly good news.” He filled in Waverly on the events of the day, Lady Tokugawa’s death as well as about Dr. Serizawa.
“We will look into his identity I assure you. For now you and Mr. Kuryakin may have off the next few days to recuperate. If young Tokugawa is still going to put the portrait on display in New York, then it will indeed need an escort. Let me know and a job well done by the way, Mr. Solo. Waverly out.”
“Hear that partner mine. We have some time off…”
Napoleon looked to the man, smiling as he saw a twinkle in Illya’s blue eyes. Apparently Kuryakin was finally acting upon the attraction the now proven innocent Shinjiru was still showing him. The Russian, acting somewhat shy, was smiling just enough, speaking to the girl in hushed tones and making her actually blush.
Solo tried chatting with Ayame, but after his attempts to flirt with her failed, he realized he resigned himself to striking out, and he gave up. Napoleon simply enjoyed the girls company and conversation.
One of the villagers put them all up for the night, with each of them quickly falling asleep as the storm, along with everything else, had sapped them of their energy.
.
The next day Captain Fukushima returned; the damage from the storm in the Okinawa having been minimal.
He brought the agents and the remaining Tokugawa siblings back to Naha where arrangements to retrieve the body of Michiko were made. From Naha they returned the next day to the family compound outside of Tokyo.
The ceremony for Michiko Tokugawa was kept simple. Attended by several Shinto priests along with family friends; her body was cremated.
Napoleon and Illya were invited to remain at the Tokugowa compound, and their luggage, still at their hotel room was sent for.
After some discussion with Tetsuya as to the disposition of the portrait, they all retired for the evening.
Solo, not one to miss an opportunity decided to explore the hot spots in Tokyo, after Tetsuya had given him some names.
He stood in his partner’s room, seeing Illya dressed only in a short kimono.
“So you won’t come with me tovarisch? It’s not often we get to relax on UNCLE’s dime.”
“No thank you my friend. I am going to take a hot bath, and enjoy myself here for the evening.”
“Tovarisch, sometimes you can be a real drip. Suit yourself chum.” Napoleon saluted, closing the doors behind him.
Illya shook his head at his partner's attempt at humor. He opened the next set of screens to the room where a steaming bath awaited him.
He let his robe drop and stepped down into the sunken wooden tub, reaching across to... Shinjiru who was was there waiting for him in the water.
“This is much better than a night out, “ he whispered to her, drawing her lips to his.
There was the sound of a giggle from behind them and a splash in the water as illya felt a pair of soft hands begin to massage and wash his back.
“Yes, this is much better Illya-san,” a naked Ayame whispered, planting a kiss on the back of his neck...
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This was a wonderful conclusion to an excellent story. May I commend you again for the depth of your research. Cultural details really make a story come to life.
(My story will be a day or so late)
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Thank you. I do love research! would you believe I researched this last night and wrote most of the story today....this is probably the fastest I ever turned out a longer chapter/conclusion.
the story actually has potential to be fleshed out even more. I've been wanting to do a story again that takes place in Japan, and I was happy this one worked out.
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I have continued the tradition and have a number of Japanese and Chinese items in my home...along with Russian, Irish, and let's not forget the fairly realm. lol!
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Thank you for staying with the story and commenting.