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section7mfuSolo ignored him as he scanned the walls for a blind spot and quickly finding one he pointed it out to Hideaki. They’d brought with them some rope and a grappling hook, and as soon as the sun went down, they used it to scale the wall, and climb down a tall tree on the inside, landing silently on the soft grass.
They skirted along the walls, making their way to the main building; Napoleon’s instincts telling him to head the the one brightly lit room. Inside there were several men sitting on cushions around a low table apparently playing cards, each of them stripped to the waist, displaying ornate, irezumi tattoos.
When playing Oicho-Kabu_ a form of blackjack with each other, the Yakuza often removed their shirts or opened them up, draping them around their waists, allowing them to display their full-body tattoos to each other. It was one of the few times that Yakuza would display their tattoos to others, as they normally kept them concealed in public with long-sleeved, high-necked shirts. It was like a peacock displaying it’s feathers, or in this case, perhaps to intimidate thier opponents in the card game.
.
The agents quickly placed explosive putty along the walls of the house, and once completed, they spied again through the window as Illya was dragged in, and forced to his knees in front of the tattooed men. At least he was looking none the worse for wear; that was unusual for the Russian.
“This is one of the Gaijin who stole the Buddha, Master. I apologize, but the other one got away. We did retrieve the statue,” one of the men spoke nervously.
Kumicho Taoka stood slowly, dismissing the others before he spoke. “This is little Gaijin runt outwitted you? You are lucky that you did get the statue back, otherwise the consequences would be severe. Now place your left hand on the table...”
The man shook as he raised his arm, kneeling and putting his hand on the delicately carved cherrywood table, spreading his fingers, knowing what he must now do. He deserved punishment for losing the statue in the first place as well as for not capturing the other thief and was now forced to perform the ritual of Yubitsume, or the cutting of one's finger, as a form of penance or apology.
Upon a first offence, the transgressor had to cut off the tip of his left little finger and give the severed portion to his boss. With each offence another finger would be sacrifice. Yubitsume, stemmed from the traditional way of holding a Japanese sword. The bottom three fingers of each hand used to grip the sword tightly, with the thumb and index fingers slightly loose. The removal of digits starting with the little finger moving up the hand to the index finger progressively weakened a person's sword grip. It was believed a person with a weak sword grip then had to rely more on the group for protection and thereby reducing individual action.
Kumicho Taoka handed his man a short samurai style blade, watching as the ritual was performed without a sound. To cry out would show another sign of weakness, requiring the man to lose another finger tip.
The bloody offering was placed in a white embroidered cloth and put on the table in front of Taoka. His man was lead away to see to his wound.
The bosses’ attention was now given over to the Russian.
“So Gaijin, what am I to do with you?”
“I was hoping you would just let me go, since I did give the statue back to your men.” Illya answered boldly.
That elicited a hearty belly laugh from Taoka.
“You think I would let you off that easy? No, little man, an easy end is not in store for you. Perhaps you would like to know the reason I wanted the little Buddha before I kill you?”
“Yes, it did occur as odd to me that you would want a stone carving, instead of taking the gold statues from Myōō-in.”
He lifted the Buddha from the table. “After many years of research, I discovered this statue's true origins, and was indeed part of his treasure. Behold!”
Taoka raised the statue above his head, sending it down to the floor, smashing it to bits. When he saw only broken stone, he cried out in anguish. That was not what he expected to see.
He roared, grabbing a Shinogi-Zukuri katana, a single-edged, curved long sword traditionally worn by samurai, and charged at Illya. He grabbed a handful of blond hair, violently yanking the Russians head back, exposing his throat, and placing the razor sharp blade against it.
“Where is the real statue, Anata no shiroi yatsu_you white bastard.”
“Most likely winging it’s way to your government. What was it you thought you would see when you smashed the statue?” Illya asked fearlessly, with the sword poised to cut his throat.
“You are surprisingly brave in the face of death for a Gaijin,” the Kumicho said, not releasing his grip on the Russian.
Illya challenged him in Japanese. “Watashi wa, ikutsu ka no hōhō hanarete yoku seppukudesu. Meiyo aru teki o jisatsu sa seru_I am well aware of the ways of Seppuku. Letting an honored enemy commit suicide.” He hedged, hoping to get his hand on a katana blade, that might just give him a chance.
“So you are wise to our ways.
“Yes I understand the ‘way of the warrior. Bushido moral code, stresses frugality, loyalty, martial arts mastery and honor unto death. It is a philosophy that I embrace. It is unspoken as the moral principles by which the samurai were required to observe....one name only be uttered, that of .. Yamamoto Tsunetomo. “
Illya got the reaction he’d hoped for as Taokas eyes widened, and to add the cherry to the top of the sundae, the Russian quoted from the Hagakure, in Japanese.
“Chie mo gijutsu wa izure mo, kono Chū de basho o motte imasu....neither wisdom nor technique has a place in this. A real man does not think of victory or defeat. He plunges recklessly towards an irrational death. By doing this, you will awaken from your dreams.” He switched back to English. “This came of a thousand years of training in the law of honor, obedience, duty, and self-sacrifice,”
Kumicho Taoka released his grip on Illyas hair, taking a step back as he looked at the sword in his hands.
“We Yakuza have our own codes of honor and chivlary.” He paused again, looking down at the gleaming blade. ”I will answer your question about the statue before you die. The Buddha should have been filled with a myriad of gems...diamonds, rubies, jade and pearls of great price...Zheng He’s lost treasure.”
Illya raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering how those gems might have been put into to what looked like an intact stone carving, but the Chinese were known for many unsolved mysteries.
“Hai," Taoka spoke his mind now. "I will honor you as you have shown bold courage and honor. You seem to understand the ways of Bushido, and speak of it in my own language very well...”.
“For a Gaijin,” Illya finished the sentence.
“Yes for a Gaijin,” the Kumicho smiled. “What is your name, so that you may be remembered as an honored enemy.”
“Watashinonamaeha Illya Kuryakindesu.”
”Release him.” Taoka ordered his men. “Anata wa meiyo aru shi Illya Kuryakin o motsu koto ni nari_you will have an honorable death, Illya Kuryakin. I permit you Seppuku."
The handcuffs were removed, and Illya rubbed his wrists trying to quickly bring back the circulation.
Taoka took a silk cloth, wrapping it around the blade until just a short section towards the tip was visible.
The cloth-covered sword would be held by the person committing Harakiri, so their hands, oddly enough, would not be cut by the razor sharp blade while they were disemboweling themselves as their final act of suicide.
The guards cocked their guns, aiming them at the Russian as Kumicho Taoka bowed solemnly, offering the sword to him.
Illya accepted, and in one quick motion, turned it around, driving it at the Kumicho. Shots were fired, and Kuryakin froze in place, surprised that he felt no pain.
The two guards fell to the floor, and Taoka turned, fleeing from the room.
Napoleon and Matsushita charged into the room.”Hey, cavalry’s arrived,“ Solo called out.
“About time. I thought I would have to escape all by myself.” Illya turned, following them out the window, as klaxons began to blare. They ducked into a stand of trees as black clad ninja-like guards rushed past them.
“Yeah, and how was that escaping thing going?” Napoleon jabbed.
“Admittedly, not too well.” Illya whispered.
“Ready for the sideshow?” Napoleon smiled, as he pulled the stem on his wristwatch. One by one the compounds they’d planted went off in a cascade of spectacular explosions, destroying the simply designed Japanese style wooden house. In the ensuing chaos, the three agents managed to get to a tree, climb it, cross over the wall, and make a clean getaway to their boat .
The next day Japanese television broadcast the news of a spectacular explosion and fire in Kobe, though no mention of it being the Yamaguchi-gumi family compound was made.
The statue was turned over at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters to the director of Antiquities from the Tokyo National Museum, and Illya advised them of the story of the lost treasure of Zheng He that Kumicho Taoka had told him.
An hour later they received a phone call from the museum telling them there was nothing hidden inside the statue as it had been x-rayed. What made it valuable, they said, was that it was rare to find such a piece not carved of wood, the more popular medium in ancient Japan. That was the major significance to the little Buddha and nothing more. It was not of Chinese origin...
“So you riisked for a piece of rock,” Napoleon said to his partner as they left headquarters.
“Not just a piece of rock, but an historical work of art. It has value to the history of this country and the Myōō-in temple where it belongs for all to see.”
“Just glad this affair is over and we got through it without a scratch this time, partner mine.”
“As am I. Come, we deserve a reward. I will take you to a Geisha house I know here in Tokyo, as long as you promise to behave.” Illya flashed his crooked smile.
“Moi, not behave? Surely you jest mon ami, n'est-ce pas?”
Illya’s lips pursed, not even bothering to comment about Napoleon’s atrocious French accent, as that had just become a lost cause.
“I will not take you then if you insist upon playing the innocent with me. Remember the last time you followed me to a Geisha house...you nearly got the both of us arrested.”
“Yes, I remember,” Napoleon droned as his partner gave him the stink-eye.
“Okay, okay. I promise. Scouts honor,” Napoleon grinned as they walked down the street to the promise of an evening of tea, feminine entertainment, relaxation...and maybe a little saki.
note: thanks to Lisa for the screen cap.
They skirted along the walls, making their way to the main building; Napoleon’s instincts telling him to head the the one brightly lit room. Inside there were several men sitting on cushions around a low table apparently playing cards, each of them stripped to the waist, displaying ornate, irezumi tattoos.
When playing Oicho-Kabu_ a form of blackjack with each other, the Yakuza often removed their shirts or opened them up, draping them around their waists, allowing them to display their full-body tattoos to each other. It was one of the few times that Yakuza would display their tattoos to others, as they normally kept them concealed in public with long-sleeved, high-necked shirts. It was like a peacock displaying it’s feathers, or in this case, perhaps to intimidate thier opponents in the card game.
.
The agents quickly placed explosive putty along the walls of the house, and once completed, they spied again through the window as Illya was dragged in, and forced to his knees in front of the tattooed men. At least he was looking none the worse for wear; that was unusual for the Russian.
“This is one of the Gaijin who stole the Buddha, Master. I apologize, but the other one got away. We did retrieve the statue,” one of the men spoke nervously.
Kumicho Taoka stood slowly, dismissing the others before he spoke. “This is little Gaijin runt outwitted you? You are lucky that you did get the statue back, otherwise the consequences would be severe. Now place your left hand on the table...”
The man shook as he raised his arm, kneeling and putting his hand on the delicately carved cherrywood table, spreading his fingers, knowing what he must now do. He deserved punishment for losing the statue in the first place as well as for not capturing the other thief and was now forced to perform the ritual of Yubitsume, or the cutting of one's finger, as a form of penance or apology.
Upon a first offence, the transgressor had to cut off the tip of his left little finger and give the severed portion to his boss. With each offence another finger would be sacrifice. Yubitsume, stemmed from the traditional way of holding a Japanese sword. The bottom three fingers of each hand used to grip the sword tightly, with the thumb and index fingers slightly loose. The removal of digits starting with the little finger moving up the hand to the index finger progressively weakened a person's sword grip. It was believed a person with a weak sword grip then had to rely more on the group for protection and thereby reducing individual action.
Kumicho Taoka handed his man a short samurai style blade, watching as the ritual was performed without a sound. To cry out would show another sign of weakness, requiring the man to lose another finger tip.
The bloody offering was placed in a white embroidered cloth and put on the table in front of Taoka. His man was lead away to see to his wound.
The bosses’ attention was now given over to the Russian.
“So Gaijin, what am I to do with you?”
“I was hoping you would just let me go, since I did give the statue back to your men.” Illya answered boldly.
That elicited a hearty belly laugh from Taoka.
“You think I would let you off that easy? No, little man, an easy end is not in store for you. Perhaps you would like to know the reason I wanted the little Buddha before I kill you?”
“Yes, it did occur as odd to me that you would want a stone carving, instead of taking the gold statues from Myōō-in.”
“Ah you see, this statue is not of Japanese origin, it is originally from China. It belonged to the legendary Ma He who was a eunuch in the service of the Yongle Emperor. He was awarded the honorific name "Zheng He,” for his loyalty and was put in charge of gathering treasure from as far away as Egypt, as tribute to the Emperor. There was a legend that Zheng He had en massed a secret treasure of his own, but he never lived to enjoy it as he died en route back to China from another of his treasure seeking expeditions for his Emperor.”
He lifted the Buddha from the table. “After many years of research, I discovered this statue's true origins, and was indeed part of his treasure. Behold!”
Taoka raised the statue above his head, sending it down to the floor, smashing it to bits. When he saw only broken stone, he cried out in anguish. That was not what he expected to see.
He roared, grabbing a Shinogi-Zukuri katana, a single-edged, curved long sword traditionally worn by samurai, and charged at Illya. He grabbed a handful of blond hair, violently yanking the Russians head back, exposing his throat, and placing the razor sharp blade against it.
“Where is the real statue, Anata no shiroi yatsu_you white bastard.”
“Most likely winging it’s way to your government. What was it you thought you would see when you smashed the statue?” Illya asked fearlessly, with the sword poised to cut his throat.
“You are surprisingly brave in the face of death for a Gaijin,” the Kumicho said, not releasing his grip on the Russian.
Illya challenged him in Japanese. “Watashi wa, ikutsu ka no hōhō hanarete yoku seppukudesu. Meiyo aru teki o jisatsu sa seru_I am well aware of the ways of Seppuku. Letting an honored enemy commit suicide.” He hedged, hoping to get his hand on a katana blade, that might just give him a chance.
“So you are wise to our ways.
“Yes I understand the ‘way of the warrior. Bushido moral code, stresses frugality, loyalty, martial arts mastery and honor unto death. It is a philosophy that I embrace. It is unspoken as the moral principles by which the samurai were required to observe....one name only be uttered, that of .. Yamamoto Tsunetomo. “
Illya got the reaction he’d hoped for as Taokas eyes widened, and to add the cherry to the top of the sundae, the Russian quoted from the Hagakure, in Japanese.
“Chie mo gijutsu wa izure mo, kono Chū de basho o motte imasu....neither wisdom nor technique has a place in this. A real man does not think of victory or defeat. He plunges recklessly towards an irrational death. By doing this, you will awaken from your dreams.” He switched back to English. “This came of a thousand years of training in the law of honor, obedience, duty, and self-sacrifice,”
Kumicho Taoka released his grip on Illyas hair, taking a step back as he looked at the sword in his hands.
“We Yakuza have our own codes of honor and chivlary.” He paused again, looking down at the gleaming blade. ”I will answer your question about the statue before you die. The Buddha should have been filled with a myriad of gems...diamonds, rubies, jade and pearls of great price...Zheng He’s lost treasure.”
Illya raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering how those gems might have been put into to what looked like an intact stone carving, but the Chinese were known for many unsolved mysteries.
“Hai," Taoka spoke his mind now. "I will honor you as you have shown bold courage and honor. You seem to understand the ways of Bushido, and speak of it in my own language very well...”.
“For a Gaijin,” Illya finished the sentence.
“Yes for a Gaijin,” the Kumicho smiled. “What is your name, so that you may be remembered as an honored enemy.”
“Watashinonamaeha Illya Kuryakindesu.”
”Release him.” Taoka ordered his men. “Anata wa meiyo aru shi Illya Kuryakin o motsu koto ni nari_you will have an honorable death, Illya Kuryakin. I permit you Seppuku."
The handcuffs were removed, and Illya rubbed his wrists trying to quickly bring back the circulation.
Taoka took a silk cloth, wrapping it around the blade until just a short section towards the tip was visible.
The cloth-covered sword would be held by the person committing Harakiri, so their hands, oddly enough, would not be cut by the razor sharp blade while they were disemboweling themselves as their final act of suicide.
The guards cocked their guns, aiming them at the Russian as Kumicho Taoka bowed solemnly, offering the sword to him.
Illya accepted, and in one quick motion, turned it around, driving it at the Kumicho. Shots were fired, and Kuryakin froze in place, surprised that he felt no pain.
The two guards fell to the floor, and Taoka turned, fleeing from the room.
Napoleon and Matsushita charged into the room.”Hey, cavalry’s arrived,“ Solo called out.
“About time. I thought I would have to escape all by myself.” Illya turned, following them out the window, as klaxons began to blare. They ducked into a stand of trees as black clad ninja-like guards rushed past them.
“Yeah, and how was that escaping thing going?” Napoleon jabbed.
“Admittedly, not too well.” Illya whispered.
“Ready for the sideshow?” Napoleon smiled, as he pulled the stem on his wristwatch. One by one the compounds they’d planted went off in a cascade of spectacular explosions, destroying the simply designed Japanese style wooden house. In the ensuing chaos, the three agents managed to get to a tree, climb it, cross over the wall, and make a clean getaway to their boat .
The next day Japanese television broadcast the news of a spectacular explosion and fire in Kobe, though no mention of it being the Yamaguchi-gumi family compound was made.
The statue was turned over at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters to the director of Antiquities from the Tokyo National Museum, and Illya advised them of the story of the lost treasure of Zheng He that Kumicho Taoka had told him.
An hour later they received a phone call from the museum telling them there was nothing hidden inside the statue as it had been x-rayed. What made it valuable, they said, was that it was rare to find such a piece not carved of wood, the more popular medium in ancient Japan. That was the major significance to the little Buddha and nothing more. It was not of Chinese origin...
“So you riisked for a piece of rock,” Napoleon said to his partner as they left headquarters.
“Not just a piece of rock, but an historical work of art. It has value to the history of this country and the Myōō-in temple where it belongs for all to see.”
“Just glad this affair is over and we got through it without a scratch this time, partner mine.”
“As am I. Come, we deserve a reward. I will take you to a Geisha house I know here in Tokyo, as long as you promise to behave.” Illya flashed his crooked smile.
“Moi, not behave? Surely you jest mon ami, n'est-ce pas?”
Illya’s lips pursed, not even bothering to comment about Napoleon’s atrocious French accent, as that had just become a lost cause.
“I will not take you then if you insist upon playing the innocent with me. Remember the last time you followed me to a Geisha house...you nearly got the both of us arrested.”
“Yes, I remember,” Napoleon droned as his partner gave him the stink-eye.
“Okay, okay. I promise. Scouts honor,” Napoleon grinned as they walked down the street to the promise of an evening of tea, feminine entertainment, relaxation...and maybe a little saki.
note: thanks to Lisa for the screen cap.
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