Akato

“You've got balls, coming here.”

Akato hung his head to hide his face from both the Joryoku before him and the world behind him.

“I would like to speak with the clan Commander,” Akato mumbled.

The Joryoku swung the wooden gate wider for Akato. “He has permitted your appointment. Come in.”

The clan compound was built against one of the many rock hillsides of the mountainous Saro District. It was constructed in the traditional manner—nestled against a stone shoulder—a large mansion of wood and stone amidst countless zen gardens and ponds, and all of it ringed by a wooden palisade. Akato had rushed here as soon as he was able, immediately following his crazed confrontation with Shora.

The Joryoku guard gestured to his minions, and the men rushed past Akato to the hovercar parked by the walls. Gingerly, the two men lifted Kazin’s limp body out of the trunk and carried him into the compound.

“Will you kill me once I am inside?” Akato asked wearily, eyeing the hilt of the flameSword at the Joryoku’s belt.

“Were it not for Moyashino’s boy you brought us there, and the guest right afforded you by our laws, your head would be rolling on the ground already, Commissioner,” the man answered darkly. “But we are unlike the Kargu. We keep the old ways of honor.” He beckoned to Akato. “Come. The Commander is waiting.”

Akato followed the Joryoku through the stone pathways, beneath the hanging branches of trees and the curtains of leaves draped over them, past bubbling brooks and serene ponds, over rock gardens and silent statues. On every inch of the grounds there stood Joryoku guards, some in black suits in the modern style, some garbed in traditional polycarbonate armor. The bodies of each and every one of them served as a tapestry for tattoo and bioEnhancement alike. All glared at Akato as he walked past them, their eyes filled with heavy judgment.

When the Joryoku escort led Akato past the mansion, Akato felt a pit form in his stomach. Was the man leading him away to some dark shadow of the grounds to execute him in secret? Perhaps that would be preferable, Akato thought to himself. He had just murdered his friend and allowed his son to come to harm. He had, in a fit of drunken fury and madness, unleashed green beamShot at the Councilor. He had dug himself into a hole that was far too deep to climb out of, and he believed he no longer had the strength to, either. Nor did he have the will to continue living as Chairman Gato’s lapdog.

But when their path eventually led into a small clearing, Akato breathed a sigh of relief. When he saw the Commander seated within a large, pondside pavilion, his mind was lightened from the dissipation of his fears, and the Commissioner hated himself for his cowardice.

“The Commander awaits,” the Joryoku said.

Akato studied the Commander’s face as he made his way to the pavilion. The man had aged greatly since the last Akato had seen him. He seemed wiser, wearier, but far more steeled in his resolve from the hardness of his eyes. Akato removed his shoes and slowly climbed the steps of the pavilion and took his seat at the table, across from the Commander. The Commander was of green eye and hair as black as night. His face and features were sharp, both beautiful and cruel, like bright steel or a rose’s thorn.

“Commissioner,” the Commander said in greeting. “A drink.” It was not a question. Akato accepted the liquor in his porcelain cup and drank the fiery liquid.

“I thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Commander,” Akato said.

“It is not every day I get the chance to meet with a Kargu errand boy.”

Akato bit his tongue. Not even a justification would be tolerated here if spoken out of turn.

“So, you have brought us Kashniro’s boy,” the Commander said. “He was Father’s favorite lieutenant.” The Commander lifted the cup to his lips. “And a dear friend.” He drank deeply of the liquor. “A shame he left the clan.”

“He…he is dead,” Akato managed.

“I know,” the Commander said. “And I have no doubt you had a part to play in his untimely end.” He set his cup down onto the table before them. “Come, call me Norbu, as you once did when we were younger. We were old friends once, too, before our lives led down different paths.” Norbu gave Akato a smile that simmered of the rage beneath. “If you had let Kazin die as well, I would have torn you apart limb by limb, Akato. I would have forsook my honor for his life.”

Akato swallowed dryly. “I…I have a conscience as well, Norbu, though you may not believe it. I only act in the city’s best interests.”

“Hah!” Norbu said, grimacing. He poured himself and Akato each an additional cup of liquor. “Drink!” Norbu drank one, two, three more cups. “Best interests. So speak the servants of the city, without understanding that all they do is toss more kindling into the fire. That is what the Shora woman said when she bore down upon our businesses and affiliations, and what has that brought Handata City? She has shattered the equilibrium which had kept the peace in the streets, allowing for a rabid hound from the north to encroach upon our territories. She has bled us dry, ridding us of the resources we require to resist the northern devils. This Kargu blight is one of her own making, and she is only now beginning to pay for her mistakes.”

Akato hung his head, unable to wait any longer to ask the question which hounded at him. “Will you be able to save him?”

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“We can,” Norbu said. “My healers have already contacted me. The boy will live, albeit differently.”

“The methods by which you will save him,” Akato said hesitantly, “will they be—”

“Yes,” Norbu said. “There is no other way. The Gato boy has both failed and succeeded. Failed in that he did not strike the head, but succeeded in that he has severed many of Kazin’s nerve endings.”

“What will you do with Kazin and me after this?” Akato asked apprehensively.

“Kazin, we will take under our wing, as it should have been, from the very beginning,” Norbu said.

“And me?” Akato repeated.

“You have guest right here, entered by my own leave. We will not kill you.”

Akato expelled a sigh of relief and allowed his shoulders to sag.

“But you know our ways, Akato,” Norbu said. “For accepting Kazin into our ranks without his taking part in a Culling, there must be a blood price.”

Akato paled. “I don’t know what he could do, how he could prove himself. And besides, there is the Law of Legacy. He has inherited his father’s place in the clan.”

“Yes,” Norbu agrees. “But that is if he joins of his own will. He lacks the ability to make his own decisions at the moment, as far as I can tell. You are the one who is acting as his guardian at the present; you are the one who wants us to save his life; you are the one who is offering him up to the clan. So what is required is the blood price.” Norbu leans in closely. “Which you will pay, old friend.”

Akato cringed farther back into his chair. “I cannot.”

Norbu continued speaking as if he did not hear, though he cast Akato a sidelong glance, like how one would behold a worm in the dirt. “Long have we planned war against the Kargu. Soon, the city will be thrown into chaos, Akato. But we were always hesitant, both the Kargu and we, to make the initial swing. Yes, there were skirmishes here and there over territory, use of Contractors, but never a declaration of outright conflict."

Akato realized then that there was another reason he had been admitted into the Yamda clan compound. “This is a courtesy call to the Constabulary, isn’t it?"

Norbu smiled. “As is custom. Keep your men out of our war, and you will see no casualties on your side of the fence.”

There was so much to deal with—undoubtedly pressure would fall from the Shampai Group and the Kargu upon Akato to interfere if the Yamda declared war. Akato thought his mind would snap from the strain of it all. He had no idea how to appease the three sides, and however many more might become involved in it all.

“I understand,” Akato croaked. “Keep the deaths contained to Joryoku members and Contractors only, and you have my word the Constabulary will keep out of your conflict.”

Norbu nodded. “Very good. But there is still the blood price which must be paid.”

“What can I do?” Akato said, his anger rising suddenly. “There is no person within Kazin’s immediate circle who I can eliminate for your benefit.” Akato regretted the statement the moment the words left his mouth.

“Arguably, Sangsum Gato, Jerim Hashinada, Parkim Son, these are all those who Kazin knew on a first name basis,” Norbu pointed out with a taunting gleam in his eye. “But you and I are agreed on that point, Akato. Don’t worry yourself. As of now, their deaths provide no benefit to the Yamda. As you are the one paying the blood price, it would do well if you were familiar with the target, so that the price is properly paid.”

And it was then that Akato realized what Norbu would ask.

“No,” he whispered.

“You already tried once,” Norbu said grimly. “Consider it a preamble of sorts.”

Akato tried to stand but instead stumbled backwards and fell onto his back.

Norbu eyed him with contempt before making to stand. “The mode of execution, Akato, will be beheading with flameSword. Make sure it is of the blue flame, so that the Kargu will know that we have provoked them by use of their own methods and the color of their clan.” He tossed the hilt of a blue flameSword onto the ground beside Akato. He then threw a second one beside it. “With this golden flameSword, strike at the heart so that the Kargu will know it as a declaration of war by the Yamda.” Norbu strode towards Akato and knelt beside him. He patted Akato on the shoulder. “If you fail, it will be your life. Kala will see you out.”

With that, Norbu left Akato alone with his woes and worries. At the command of a black-haired woman with the strands dyed purple, two Yamda members hauled Akato onto his feet and dragged him through the grounds. Akato merely hung limply within their hold, numbed and deadened with the weight of his burden. At the gates, they threw him onto the streets as if he were a sack of refuse and shut the doors behind him, leaving him to wallow in the heavy rain.

Akato lay there for a long while, thinking nothing, feeling only the drops of rain as they pattered onto his face. At length he picked himself up off the ground, ruing the day that he had decided to enter the Constabulary. Perhaps he should have taken the same footsteps as Kashniro and joined the clans.

He climbed into his hovercar and turned on its engines. The car climbed in altitude until Akato was gliding through the Saro District, distancing himself from his thoughts and his feelings until he could see the task through. He tried not to think of the terrible thing he was about to do, of the face his target would make upon seeing him, or the cry that would escape their lips when he first pierced the heart with the golden flameSword. And so, in this daze, Akato drove on and on until he was descending the lanes, past City Center and into the Temata District.

He waited outside her apartment complex until he was certain her driver had left. When it was the peak of night, Akato entered the building, his two flameSword hilts concealed within his coat.

There was a time long ago, when Akato, Kashniro, Norbu, and Shora were grunts in their respective fields. They were all young and debauched, the four of them, always searching for the joy of ecstasy provided by drink, stumbling intoxicated into the next day, where they would trudge to their desks, swallow their headaches and tighten their belts to work through the day so that they may meet one another once more in the night. He had hated his time then, when he floundered at the bottom rung of the ladder, obeying the ceaseless commands of older men and women, required to deal with the egotism and condescension of his superiors. The only relief was provided at night, when he was reveling into the early hours of morning with his companions at his side. He had dreamed of the day when they could all meet, each having risen to success in their own fields, when greatness and respect trailed their every step.

He realized that those were the days that were best—the simple times, when one was fed and energized by the hopes held by the future, when he was not assailed on all sides by the whims and wiles of others. Though he had now attained a place at what he had believed to be the pinnacle, he saw now that the world reached so much higher than he had believed in his youth. The heavens, after all, did not end at a mountaintop. He had realized that he would forever be someone’s lapdog. The higher his position, the greater the magnitude of the favors expected of him, and the crueler the convictions of those who demanded something in return for their friendship: those such as Chairman Gato, or even old friends as Norbu.

Such were the musings of Chief Constabulary Commissioner Akato as he walked out of the lift and knocked on the door of the apartment. It was all for the best, he tried to say to himself. She knew of his crime and moment of madness. She was required to be eliminated, in any case. In this way did he attempt to convince himself of the need for his deed.

But to the last of his days, Akato never forgot the expression of pity Shora wore on her face when he ran the flameSword through her heart.