July 8th, 2015
Kurosawa Residence
Tokyo, Japan, Earth, Sol Star System
An older man looked on with pride as his son passed on his knowledge and skills to his grandchildren. Even though the world was now a peaceful place and Japan hadn’t been in a major war in decades, he still insisted that his grandchildren learn the families traditions and martial arts. The wars might be long past but the threat of terrorists and criminals still existed and he refused to let any of his family become victims.
In fact this man is Ichiro Kurosawa, a former Master Sergeant in the Japanese Army, Ranger, and Special Operations hand-to-hand combat instructor. Even now he still occasionally teaches SAT (Special Assault Team) and Counter-Terrorism units. As a man in his fifties he is still in impressive shape, training daily and can still march for kilometers in a full combat load. A requirement he set for himself, for if he is to train the best then he needs to be one of the best regardless of age.
His dedication to Martial Arts, to his family and his refusal to allow good people to become victims was what led to his founding of a dojo dedicated to teaching people self defense and how to prevent situations from turning violent.
As his son finished the training session with the grandchildren it was time to spar with him. As the successor to the Kurosawa Dojo and the family martial arts, Saito Kurosawa is the old man’s pride and joy. In time all of this would be his, but for now, his final test was here. If he passed this test then Ichiro would declare him as having mastered the Kurosawa style. A title held by very few, so few in fact that there was only one still among the living: Ichiro.
There were two ways to pass the test: the first was to defeat a Master of the Kurosawa style using only the Kurosawa style and the second was to be able to defend against a Master of the Kurosawa style using only the Kurosawa style for a preset amount of time without sustaining serious injury or damage. Neither of which were easy to accomplish since it would be a no holds barred fight with real weapons.
----------------------------------------
A little over an hour and a half later the family had cleaned up, eaten breakfast, and planned dinner to celebrate the newest Master of the Kurosawa style. Saito was making sure his two kids were ready for school and Ichiro was gathering the last of his gear for the training class he would be participating in with the local SAT unit. He had just put on his backpack containing food, clothes, maintenance kit and medical supplies when he heard his granddaughter scream. He immediately grabbed the katana off the wall and ran towards the scream. Rounding the corner he saw something that looked like it came out of one of his grandson’s anime shows. The ground was glowing with a purplish light and purple tendrils were wrapping around the kids. Saito was trying to rip the tendrils off but to no avail. Ichiro didn’t think, he just stepped forward and swung his sword as he drew it from the sheath, cutting through the tendrils. No sooner had he cut the tendrils free, that more rose up reaching for him this time.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
With a roar of rage he swung his sword with little care for the tendrils reaching for him. Those things would not have his grandchildren! The tendrils had such a firm grip on him that he couldn’t move his legs but by then he was cutting the last of the two free. As soon as each child was free Saito pulled them out the circle of purple light. However he watched in horror as his father was pulled into the ground by those tendrils. The last words he heard his father say before he disappeared into the ground were, “Your in charge while I’m gone. I’m going to punish these fools who would target our family and make sure they never think to lay a hand on a Kurosawa ever again. Then and only then will I return.”
----------------------------------------
A confused shout rang out catching people's attention, “What do you mean he was pulled into the ground by tentacles?!” One person choked on his coffee at the last bit, others started chuckling at what was said. None of the men and women in the room had ever imagined words like that coming out of the Lieutenant's mouth.
“Ok, send me the footage. You got my email right?”
“Yes, send it now. The whole team is gonna want to see this and try to figure it out.”
The man let out a sigh as he put the phone away. He turned and looked at the men and women in the room.
“All right everyone listen up! Change of plans. We will NOT be practicing for dealing with opponents armed with blades today. My father, Ichiro Kurosawa has been kidnapped. According to my brother Saito, the original targets were my niece and nephew. The crime scene has been secured already and security camera footage is on its way. Drop everything that you're working on and focus on this. Someone targeted a SAT member’s family. Yes, they picked the absolute WORST family to go after but they did it. I want to know everything there is to know about this. I want these guys found before they target another family and before my father kills them all.” As the man spoke, the jovial atmosphere of the room gradually darkened and became grim.
The assembled group of people instantly split up, some grabbing combat vests sporting an assortment of spare magazines and equipment, others grabbing laptops and other equipment and stuffing them into bags, but there was no panic. Just a sense of urgency and purpose. Someone was foolish enough to target one of their families.
This act would bring down the full weight of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Special Unit. Not only would the Special Assault Teams get involved, but the Special Investigations Teams as well. The scary part? There would be no official records of it. The Special Unit is a very large family, similar to a clan from ages past. Ichiro Kurosawa was not only family, he’s a honored teacher of theirs. Honor demanded they act and act they would. Heads would roll, examples would be made, and the underworld would learn once more: Family is not to be touched.