Kazin
Following the Seven Star Mob’s discovery of Kala within the barrel, Kala and I were both whisked back to Royang for fear that the Kargu were yet monitoring the warehouses of Namino. The Seven Star Mob has no healers of their own as the clans do, specialists in bioEnhancements, well-versed in machinery and medicine. As a result, the mob was forced to make do with a mechanic and a doctor to tend to Kala and her wounds. Mugen allowed for us to remain within a tattered two-story home, the place which is now serves as both our abode and our prison.
We are well out of way from any Yamda energyTowers; once he realized what my bioEnhancements actually meant for my mobility, Mugen had wired a small battery pack into my spinalChip. I now carry that with me wherever I go. It is unwieldy and uncomfortable, but it allows me to move.
I climb up the stairs of the house, into the stuffy corridors, two trays of food in my hands. It is difficult, balancing them with the battery pack I am carrying as well. Soon, I am standing just outside the door to Kala's room.
I hesitate before I knock. There is no answer.
“Kala?” I ask, and wait again.
Still no answer.
I place the trays of food onto the ground before slowly sliding the doors open. The floor of the room is covered with tatamis. There is a single bed against the wall of faded paper and a small table just beside it. Kala is sitting in a chair by the window, staring out silently, just as she has done each day since the Mob brought her here.
I shift my battery pack into her room before picking up the trays.
“Hey Kala, I’ve brought lunch.” I set the tray onto the table. “Mugen was generous, today. We’ve got us a bit of miso soup here, a bit of baked lab-grown salmon, some pickled veggies, just the usual…and then, here’s our treat. Breaded and fried beef cutlet! It’s been ages since we’ve had beef, no?”
No answer. As expected. Even I am cringing at my feigned cheerfulness—I can only imagine how aggravating I must be to Kala.
I take a seat at the table, then proceed to begin slicing the beef cutlet into small pieces as unhurriedly as I can, to give Kala more time. I finish soon, much too soon. I take a deep breath and slowly approach Kala.
She is not as unwilling today when I wheel her chair to the table. She even looks up at me when I begin turning her away from the window.
“Oh, hey Kazin.”
“Hey, Kala.”
I take my seat beside her. “What would you like first, today?”
She frowns for a bit. “I’ll start with the soup. You can never go wrong starting a meal with soup.” She's conversant. Another good sign.
I nod and spoon the first bit of food into her mouth. I’m careful not to spill on her lap.
“Have the Mob found any other survivors?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “No.”
“What about Ganzama? Have they been able to bring him back?”
“Not really.”
Kala sighs and leans back into her chair. “It’s my fault. I never should have pushed Ganzama about the protection fees. Then we wouldn't have had to look for Riko."
I swallow nervously, wracking my brain for the right words. “It’s not your fault, Kala. The Kargu were going to attack Tobashinta anyways, that night. We didn’t stand a chance.”
“We might have put up a better fight,” Kala says, her voice taut with bitterness and anger. She stands abruptly and returns to the open window. A soft breeze flows into the room; Kala’s hair hangs down past her shoulders now, and the ends dance in the wind. “And now, I can’t even do that.” She looks down at where her hands used to be. I glue my eyes to the food, lacking the heart to lift my gaze.
The Kargu are famed for their cruelty, I had heard it said. They lack the heart and restraint that ails normal human beings. Maybe that is why they are so feared. When the Seven Star Mob discovered Kala inside the barrel, her arms cut and cauterized at the elbow, we thought we had seen the worst of it—and then we had found Ganzama, nailed to the door beside his limbs. It was a miracle he still breathed, though his mind is now elsewhere. He had defended my escape; now I do not know if I'll ever be able to thank him.
Mugen was unable to spurn his aid at the sight of the two of them; even Jin remained silent as Mugen commanded his mobsters to take the both of them into their care.
Kala and I remain here now, inside Royang, as prisoners, while Ganzama is kept alive within a stasis tank.
“The city is up in flames,” Kala says. “The Yamda are losing too much ground. Tobashinta is lost. Kama is next. Soon, there won’t be a Yamda to return to.”
I know she is right. I have watched the news. Scene after scene of Yamda dead littering the streets following skirmishes in the night. The Yamda are losing the war, and badly at that.
“We’re…we’re still alive,” I croak. “We might fight another day, as soon as we get out of here somehow.”
Kala faces me. “You might fight, but not me. Do you know why the Kargu left me and Ganzama alive the way they did, Kazin? Because a Joryoku who cannot defend their clan is not truly alive. We live for the clan. We are the clan, the clan is us. And now, we are forced to watch helplessly as all that we once knew is destroyed, our brothers and sisters slaughtered. It is our greatest shame, a punishment worse than death.” She stares at me coldly. “You might feel more loyalty to the clan if you went through the Culling, as the rest of us did.”
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I have no answer for her. Norbu never put me through the Culling, the ritual in which one proves their loyalty to the clan by paying a blood price. My face grows hot from shame and my silence warms the room.
Suddenly, the door slides open. Mugen stands just without, flanked by Jin and another one of his captains, a man named Gento.
“You, Kazin,” Mugen says, motioning. “Come with me.”
“Kala’s not done with her lunch,” I protest.
“Jin here will do that for you,” Mugen offers.
“I will?” Jin says in surprise. Mugen refrains from answering—he is not in the mood to be questioned—so Jin saunters into the room, shooting me a glare as he does so. “Scram, Joryoku.” Jin doesn’t provoke me as often as he used to following our discoveries in the warehouse. Even the little anchovy has taken pity on me, I guess. It is not a comforting thought.
“I don’t need to be fed,” Kala spits. “Let me leave, Mugen. That’s all I ask.”
Mugen ignores her. He levels his gaze at me until I finally stand and exit the room. He leads me wordlessly to the bottom floor, out of the house, and across the street into the Garage. He commands me to sit in a chair at a table against the wall as he takes a seat opposite from me.
“We sent a messenger in the night to the Saro District,” Mugen says blandly.
“Saro?” I say in confusion. “That’s where the Yamda clan compound is.”
Mugen’s face is dark with aggravation. “This war between the Kargu and the Yamda…I hold no affinity for the Joryoku, Kazin, believe me. But I’ve been watching these past few weeks as the Kargu have wreaked their destruction upon our city. I can no longer just watch. If we let things be, Handata City will end up like Zanaku.”
“What happened in Zanaku City?”
“The Kargu expanded violently and quickly, just as they are doing now, here in Handata. The difference was that the Zanaku City Constabulary tried to halt their spread.” Mugen steeples his hands at his chin. “When that happened, the Kargu hunted down every ranking officer in the Constabulary. Their bodies were hung from the tallest skyscrapers for all to see, one-by-one, sometimes in bunches, until the Commissioner finally surrendered and allowed the Kargu to continue their bloodshed unhindered. The true rulers of Zanaku are the Kargu. Unless you are wealthy, or important, and sheltered in the affluent districts, surrounded by private armies and mercenaries, the Kargu do to you as they please.”
“So…” I rub my temple. “You want to make peace with the Yamda.”
Mugen nods. “For the time being. I’m no fool, Kazin. I don’t know why you joined the Joryoku, but the creed of the Seven Star Mob is to defend this sector of Royang from outside forces—to keep its people safe. The Yamda honored our boundaries, for the most part. I know the Kargu will not do that; and I intend to keep Royang free until the end of my days.” He leans forward. “The Yamda refuse to meet with my messenger. These days, they do not trust anyone who is not of their clan.”
“So, you want me to go.”
Mugen smiles and nods. “I like that you’re not stupid, Kazin. Yes, that is what I want.”
“I want Kala to go with me as well,” I say. “I’m just a grunt, but a captain holds much more sway, and has the trust of the other officers.”
Mugen lights a cigarette. “Of course. I’m very happy to see that we are on the same page, Kazin.” He speaks through a cloud of white smoke. “Obviously, Jin and a few others will be accompanying you.”
I pale. “Jin? Anyone else, Mugen. He’s the worst fit for a negotiation with the clan. He’s a child who can barely control his temper. Who knows what he'll say to ruin things?”
Mugen’s brow creases in irritation and anger. “Don’t presume to speak of things you don’t know, Kazin. I like you, but Jin is my brother. And you are still Joryoku, and our prisoner.” He stands abruptly, signaling the end of the conversation. “I send Jin with you because I trust him. That's all you need to know.”
I know at that point that any protestation will prove pointless.
“Understood,” I answer reluctantly.
***
The next morning, Jin, Kala, myself, and several other mobster members head out of Royang inside of an unassuming transport van. The vehicle glides through the city. One of the mobsters, Ako, brings up a hologram of Handata City from her tPanel. She places it in the center for all of us to see.
“Right now, in order to reach Saro, which is located up here, way in the north,” she says, pointing at the map, “it’s better that we take the western roads. It’ll take a bit longer, but nothing too intense.” She pauses. “There’s just one thing, here in Andaka District—there might be checkpoints. If there are, we’ll all hide beneath the flooring here”—she thumps on the ground as proof of the hollow space below it—“and hope that the constabulary are in no mood to inspect an empty car. We wouldn't want them to find bioEnhanced humans inside. That'd be too much trouble, especially since it seems the Constabulary are basically Kargu lackeys now.”
Just as Ako predicted, there is a checkpoint in Andaka. Immediately, we all hide beneath the flooring, and I end up nearly on top of a very, very annoyed Jin.
“Of all the spots you could have chosen, Joryoku,” Jin hisses. “Me? Me? You have a crush on me or something? You like being verbally disparaged? You one of those types?”
I grimace and remain still. I am more nervous about the meeting with Norbu. I lack both the patience and the mental capacities to deal with Jin and his childish ramblings today.
We pass throught he checkpoint without much incident, and we are soon gliding past Andaka, then over the Hano River inside one of the bridges spanning its width. Soon, I see the shadowy folds of the familiar mountains which populate Saro District, and a feeling of warm familiarity that I hadn’t known for a long time blooms inside my chest. I can’t wait to see Norbu, to let him know I am still alive.
The air is deathly silent as the transport van lands beside the compound. We can all feel the false sense of peace; we are all aware of the vigilance bubbling underneath, and of the very real possibility of an ambush. As we had discussed, it is me who dismounts first. My battery pack hangs at my waist from a strap, and I find myself hoping that Norbu takes to it kindly, as a sign of Mugen’s willingness to parley.
I raise my hands as I approach the gates. I knock on them softly. I step back and wait for an answer. Several long seconds pass. A cold sweat breaks on my back as the thought that I am no longer welcome here after my failure in Tobashinta creeps into my mind. How do the Joryoku punish those who have failed them? I begin wondering if I was foolish to have so eagerly anticipated my return to Norbu.
But all of that fear fades away the moment the gates burst open to reveal Norbu standing at the entrance, surrounded by his guards.
“Kazin?” he says quietly. He makes his way towards me. Soon, we are both encircled by his guards. He takes my face in his hands, looks me over up and down. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in the holoViewer.” He looks at me with tired eyes, though they are not absent of warmth. “You’re alive.” He takes me in a hard embrace.
“I’m alive,” I answer.
Kala slowly makes her way out of the vehicle. Norbu’s face immediately becomes crestfallen, then twists into one of fury and rage. “The Kargu will pay,” he hisses.
Kala kneels on the ground in deference to her commander. It is a solemn sight. Even the mobsters appear to bow their heads, though it might just be a trick of the shadows and moonlight.
I notice that Norbu has grown older. His shoulders appear to sag, as if bearing a great weight. His face has grown grayer, a sign of poor health. The Yamda’s failing war has taken a heavy toll on him. I find myself remembering the Norbu of old, tall, proud, dangerous in his demeanor with a fearsome glint in his eye. His guards are hypervigilant, scanning with their eyes and equipment in all directions at all times for signs of intruders. Their alertness reminds me of the harshness of the Yamda situation, and of the war we are losing.
Jin and the other mobsters slowly climb out of the van. Norbu watches them with hard eyes.
“You have returned to me my fellow clanmembers,” Norbu says. “As a sign of my thanks, I will allow you an audience.”
“Norbu,” I say, before Jin says something stupid. “It’s me you have to negotiate with, today. I’m still their prisoner, and I speak on behalf of Mugen of the Seven Star Mob.”
Norbu looks at me in surprise, then nods warily. A bit of that joyful spark has left his eyes, and he is once again the cold, Joryoku commander.
“Is that so? Very well.”
Norbu turns and heads back into his compound. Escorted by the Yamda guards, the rest of us follow, and the gates clang shut behind us.