Masaki took a good long sip of coffee on this peaceful morning. Reading the new crisp Starlight News newspaper telling of the current events. That being said, the front page of the most heated topic was an entire page dedicated to the Seventh Seat, Do-Yun Jin, and his new fashion line EX-ASTRA. Hoshikuni’s number-one heartthrob sporting his looks with a dashing white tux and stylish fedora, accompanied by a fellow gorgeous model in a white frilly kimono laced in pearls and lily patterns with a bob haircut.
The two looked as beautiful as the twin moons glazing the night sky, as Masaki pictured himself and his wife in the same outfit, trying out different poses while a professional took their photos. And once the photoshoot was finished, the two would go to the bedroom in private. Masaki opening up his collar, casting a bewitching look upon the adorable Yukina, before slowly leaning his body close to her and—
Damn this mind of mine. Save it for tomorrow night.
He turned the page. Tax rates appeared steady and so too was population growth, in line with the current infrastructural plans the parliament was now undergoing. The same went for the agricultural reforms happening in Jincao and Tsunahashi. Rice exports have been growing steadily thanks to the new tractors from the Engineering Research Section. Add the recent talks about the mass-production of automatons for future exports and Hoshikuni ought to catch up and rise as the leading nation in terms of economy, finally defeating Irdjaya’s abundant natural resources and spiritual talisman exports.
That being said, things could get hectic within the Finance Ministry. He doubted that the ones above would be so willing as to not grab a portion of the profit for themselves. Even the new agricultural bill, which he and his fellow colleagues at the Agricultural Ministry drafted after gaining inspiration in the southern continent of Zagaron, would receive opposition if it were to not benefit them. It left them with less options. Either tread the lines of the law or go completely corrupt.
Masaki hoped this two-day vacation would clear his head and get him back in the game, but upon reading the top header of the gossip page, it instantly became a jumble of mess.
YUKINA KOSHIJI. BELOVED WIFE OR TREACHEROUS CHEATER? FAMED RESEARCHER SEEN WITH MALE 'COLLEAGUES’!
And immediately, Masaki got reminded of his academy days. The amorous moves he made, the cheek stares he sent, the valentine chocolate he gave, all of them accepted without causing so much as a reaction. Initially, Masaki believed that she thought of him as a nuisance or a desperate nobody. The same feeling which everyone else who ever tried to make a move on her faced after their failure attempts. That was until he accidentally eavesdropped on her conversation with a bunch of friends, who clearly knew his intentions. It wasn’t as if he was hiding it. Except, what Yukina said shocked Masaki down to the core.
“What are you guys talking about? Masaki is my friend.”
Friend … friend … the word perpetuated like a disease ailing him into depression. The fact that she said it so innocently made it worse. Fortunately, Masaki’s feelings eventually reached her, which in turn made him so frustrated over this article, bellowing his heart out, “As if that air-head can detect romantic interest!”
However, what made him more rageful was the fact that it was clearly written by someone who despised his wife and all that she stood for. Masaki had a couple of ideas in mind like plummeting their writing career through means of revealing their personal secrets, with real truths of course, not lies and rumors. Otherwise he'd be no different from them.
The ideas came in as fast as lightning strikes, yet quickly calmed by Mister Cook's arrival, pouring another cup of coffee and a giving a delicious toasted sandwich. It really quenched his hunger, both literally and figuratively.
“Thanks,” he said. It still felt strange thanking a lifeless automaton, but the face and long mustache drawn on its metal plate, accompanied by its dancing features looked too adorable to not be seen as a pet, albeit a mechanical one.
“Dad! Dad!” Akito ran down the stairs, carrying what appeared to be a prototype command cube, showing it to him eagerly. “I figured out how it works. Look! Look! You see, it’s …”
And immediately after, Masaki’s mind went blank, unable to comprehend a single thing his son was saying. Regardless, Masaki kept nodding and putting on a smile, feeling proud of his son’s newfound passion.
“Hmm … What is Dad reading?” Akito went to look, but Masaki had already turned the page. “Why?” he pouted.
“It’s not a good article. Just some false news,” he said, before reading through the next few pages, this one article with the portrait of a child at the front. Again, huh? Yukina told him about this. About how children aged eleven to fourteen were slowly disappearing left and right. This time, it was a girl from Tengokunashi, where their home was. Add the two other girls, who went missing last month and the previous month respectively, the Tengokunashi was now facing a time of unrest.
If what Xiaodan Zhu, the vice-captain of the Third Division said was true, then his son should be off the kidnappers’ radar, but Akito would become eleven in two months. Add the remaining days to the month of Valkriya all the way to Kinnarua, it should be around ninety days or so. Masaki never doubted the Third Division’s capabilities as Hoshikuni’s major crimes investigators, but he still felt the need to remain cautious.
Discord should be brewing amongst the parliament. There was no way this kind of information could be kept secret forever. Masaki reckoned several of the most influential politicians have already caught wind of this or at the very least connected the dots. They might even use this opportunity to either bring light to the problem or bring down those in opposition toward them. The children of Hoshikuni had become a chess piece in the game of laws and words.
I should hire a bodyguard from the Sixth Division just in case, thought Masaki, referring to the Murikami Order division made up of political and diplomatic bodyguards. For now, it’d be best to stay at home and enjoy this two-day vacation he’d set himself up for. It’d be great if Yukina could also take a break, but considering the amount of projects she had, best not to bother her much and instead spend more time with his lovely son, who looked to be fervently pointing at a particular section of the newspaper. An advertisement for an airship exhibition in a park not far from where they were.
“No, Akito-kun. It’s better to stay inside,” he told, but Akito’s pouting accompanied by his shining puppy-like eyes tempted him. More and more he felt his heart being swayed, but Masaki remained obstinate, crossing his arms while trying not to look.
“Please … I want to go there, Daddy.”
* * *
The two left the exhibition with a bunch of photos and souvenirs, passing by the latest Flyer-11 model airship, a winged boat floating with a huge blimp and sails resembling fish tails, which took over half the park’s space. Being able to carry seventy people at once was a remarkable feat in the aircraft industry. Masaki would’ve liked to tell Akito his experience riding one on his trip to Zagaron. Alas, he could remember the wooziness as well as the toilet bowl where he poured out his insides for three days straight. Six days if you count the return trip.
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“Look Dad! Look at this!” Akito held up his rather sophisticated toy airplane, running around as to get the gears turning and the propellers spinning. A few other kids joined him and they played around with their airplanes.
Masaki stood beneath a cherry tree, its beautiful pink flowers almost ready to bloom. It didn’t feel as if this peaceful air could be interrupted.
“Get off of me, you sick freak!” someone yelled and a man fell next to him, a dirty beggar in old ripped clothes and greasy unkempt hair, having a pungent smell as if he hadn’t showered or bathed for at least a month. Masaki walked away, hoping to not catch his attention, when Akito suddenly returned from playing.
“Dad, let’s go home. I’ve got a new idea for …,” his gaze turned toward the beggar on the ground. “Are you alright, sir?”
Masaki stopped his son from approaching him. “He’s fine. No need to mind him.”
“But he looks hurt.”
At times like these, he wished that Akito didn’t have his mother’s empathy. Masaki didn’t have any grievances toward the poor, but beggars were another matter. The difference between the two would be that the former still worked while the latter did not. What a detestable thing, to simply ask for money without doing any effort. Of course, children were exempted, but once you became an adult, the responsibility to work was a necessity.
“Let’s just go,” he said, taking Akito away from the unsightly figure.
“Koshiji-san?” the beggar called in a dry voice. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Koshiji Masaki from the Flyer Class of 1-B!”
Considering that the beggar seemed to know him, Masaki took an opportunity to look at the man, but upon looking closely upon his face, he quickly switched back and moved onwards.
“Wait, Koshiji-san!” the beggar grabbed his shoulder. “It’s me, Yamamoto! Yamamoto Ayumu. We were in the same class.”
Certainly, Masaki recalled a certain Yamamoto back during his academy days. An outgoing student with a diligent mindset and famous for his witty comebacks. However, looking at him now … those dilated eyes that kept looking sideways, dark bags front months or even years of insomnia, trembling body and thin, veiny limbs resembling a shaved branch which looks so fragile as though his bones could be broken by so much as a single touch. Masaki knew from the get go as to what his former classmate had been consuming. Although the question remained which one, Masaki didn’t bother to ask and instead intended to get away from him, but the man’s grip was persistent.
“Dad, do you know this guy?” Akito asked, curiously.
“No, he must've gotten the wrong person,” he forcibly removed the man’s hands from his shoulder.
“But he said your full name.”
“A coincidence. Nothing more than a coincidence.”
Masaki and his son took a few steps forward, only to be stopped by the man calling himself ‘Yamamoto’.
“Just wait. Listen to me, please,” he said, but Masaki continued to ignore him, leading the man to follow from behind. “Please, Koshiji-san, I need your help. I just need to borrow five thousand sens. I’ll pay you back at a later date. So please, help me this one time. Please or else I—”
Alas, Masaki continued to walk ahead, wanting to do nothing with his former classmate, whom he was never close with aside from that one group project together. A pity that he ended up like this, but it couldn’t be helped. The man’s corneas had grown somewhat yellowish, meaning he’d gotten himself infected with the yellow stomach skin disease. Give another few months and he would be found somewhere along the alleys cold and unmoving. A fitting end for a lowly desperate drug addict.
“Oi, come back here. Koshiji-san, come back,” the man called ‘Yamamoto’ gritted his teeth, eyes dead set on Masaki. He grabbed his kimono with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other, seeking for gold, only to receive a swift knee jab in the abdomen followed by a downward thrust that sent his head to the ground.
“Agh!” Masaki’s fist trembled and bruised. It had been so long since he last got physical.
A couple of officers from the Murikami Order hurried to the scene, yet shocked to find the other half-conscious. Masaki thoroughly explained what happened and they let him go while taking the beggar with them.
“No, please let me go. I need to … I want to see her again. Please, I want to see my wife again … Let me go, please …” his rambling continued on until he broke down and cried.
Glad that’s over. Give me a break. Masaki went to look after Akito, who seemed to be frightened by the whole ordeal. “It’s alright Akito. Your father’s fine. We’re both fine.”
“That man’s not fine,” his deep blue eyes still staring toward the beggar’s direction. All of a sudden, Masaki started scruffing out his son's scarlet hair into a frizzy mess. He didn’t seem to like it at all. “Dad, what are you doing?”
“Just showing my love for you,” he smiled, further fuzzing up his hair till Akito leapt back to get away. Masaki chuckled and the two went on their way back. However, while the two were walking, Masaki could sense the unease within his son. He couldn’t blame him though, as his heart was a spitting image of his mother, which was both relieving and worrying.
“Listen well, Akito-kun,” he spoke, calmly. “Those kinds of people? They’re bad people. Very bad people, who’ll do anything to get their hands on what they want and will do nothing but harm to those around them.”
“So, if I meet another one, I should beat them up like you did?”
“Don’t be silly. You should run and get an officer to help you.”
“But you didn’t run!” Akito gave a look that said, ‘Wow, Dad, you were so cool back there!’ However, as much as he liked the feeling, Masaki believed that it was unbecoming of him to show his son that side of him.
“No, you shouldn’t. One, you’re a kid. Two, you’re not professionally trained, and your Dad only learnt some fighting skills to protect you and your mom. Because back then, there wasn’t really anyone who could do so.”
Corruption grew far and wide before the Great Rebellion, with government officials and Murikami Order officers seeking only monetary value and a great stand on the hierarchy of commoner and nobility. Despite the deaths that occurred during that day, the Fukyusei Fighters did one thing right. They got rid most of the old corrupt and opened up a path for the new youth. Sure, there might not be much changes happening behind the scenes, but changes did occur nonetheless.
“There’s no need to fight in today’s era,” he said. “This peace we have is thanks to the many struggles the people of Hoshikuni had to endure and fight for.”
“So, there’s really no need to fight?”
“Not really. We have the Murikami Order to keep the peace.” While Masaki still had doubts, based on what he’d seen and gathered, the current generation of officers have done their jobs as splendidly as they could. “Also, do you even want to fight people?”
“Hmm … Not really. I only want to build machines,” he said. “Oh, but maybe I can build machines to protect people. Like an invisible wall that can appear and reappear at my command.”
“That’s called a barrier and it already exists in life. Although, only mages specialized in it could do so. The Fifth Division stationed in the Kagemusha Research Institute, where your mom’s working, is mostly made up of barrier mages. They’re there mostly to prevent experiments from going haywire though. I’m sure you’ve heard your mom’s stories.”
“But how about outside of that?” Akito asked.
“There’s some from the First Division inside parliament and Juryokaku. The same for the Second Division. A lot more than the Fifth actually, since defensive barriers are invaluable in the military.”
“How about those officers just now? Are they barrier mages?”
“No, they’re ordinary people like your mom and I. Both the Twelfth and Thirteenth Division have mages among their ranks, so I doubt it. If you become a mage, you basically get a spot on the top ten, or the Eleventh Division if you’re unlucky, but that really isn’t a problem by any means,” he said. “There will always be people in need no matter where you go …”
Akito stared at him puzzled, “Dad, are you crying?”
Noticing the droplets on the corner of his eyes, Masaki brushed them off using his sleeves. “It’s fine, Akito-kun. I was just reminded of a dear friend of mine. In fact, I’d say out of all the divisions, the Eleventh Division is both the easiest and most exciting to work in as an officer. Well, I was never an officer myself, but I knew someone who did and he found the position quite content. That is if you decide to become an officer of the Murikami Order.”
“I … don’t think I’d like to,” Akito scratched his head. “Building stuff is way more fun, especially with Mom.”
“You really have fun with Mom, huh?” Masaki felt a little jealous. “What about your dad though? Are you having a lot of fun with your good ‘ol dad?”
“I am, but I have more fun with Mom than Dad,” his words stabbed hard, as Masaki now knew who between him and Yukina was the favorite parent. However, he would not fall to despair. There would be plenty more opportunities to sway his son’s mind.
The Founding Festival in Maginaku Island was one of them. Finally, a chance to show Akito the greatest academy known in Antryion. Masaki couldn’t wait for the day to finally arrive.