Removed – Chapter 12

Today I’m going to follow the top Taira henchmen and find out what they’ve been up to for the past couple of months. I’ve already compiled my dossier on the clan leader, Tomio Miura, so it’s time to move down the ranks.

My first subject, Minamoto, was an easy enough target. I ran into a dead-end with him after only a few weeks and set him aside. Whatever illegal activities he’s up to, they must all revolve around money because I’ve seen no signs of violence from anyone in his clan. It’s either that or they keep everything away from the cameras.

Tomio Miura, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care who finds out about his illegal activities. His records are pretty blatant. After running the same routines on him I ran on Minamoto, I found two people that worked for him disappear in a two week period. One died of natural causes. The other ended up in the Ku 2 main hospital with internal injuries before dying of them.

So, I went back in the records over the span of five years and found twenty-seven people have died while working for or around Miura. Countless more have been injured. With a sense of dread, I set him aside for a few days and concentrated on the other clan boss, Noboru Maeda, for a bit. I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what had happened to those men and women.

I can’t avoid the violence anymore.

Sakai reviewed my work two days ago and said, “Sanaa, you must investigate all of the bosses in these families. You’re not going to make any progress if you just follow the heads of the clans.”

Fine. I’ll do it.

Tadao Matsuda is first. He’s a strange one. I’ve seen him with Miura on several occasions, and I put his name on my list immediately once I looked him up. He’s two years younger than Sakai at forty, and grew up in the same ward and neighborhood as Sakai did. They must know each other. He’s married to the now Chief of Colonization, Emiko Matsuda. He’s tall and well-built but dyes his hair this dirty brown color I personally find revolting.

I’ve been transfixed by him, though the few times he’s appeared on surveillance have been uneventful. His vacant and unfeeling eyes bore into people he deals with face-to-face. There is no emotion, not even the hint of a smile. He’s so cold, I shiver.

What I find most intriguing about Matsuda is that he wasn’t born into any one of these major families. He’s the only son of two complete nobodies in this world: a seamstress and a shop owner. By marrying Emiko, he technically became a member of clan Minamoto which confused me to no end. If he married into Minamoto, why is he working with Clan Taira? So far, in all of my digging, I’ve found these clans never mix.

While I wait for the computers to compile the video feeds I’ve requested, I sit and think about what I will say or do with Jiro tonight at the izakaya. I wonder if it’s a good idea to continue this flirting when I still have to train with him each day, but I do like him a lot already. I find him attractive, funny, sweet, compelling…

Ugh. I lean forward and put my head on the desk. I’m dying to lay my hands on him, and I’m not even sure if he finds me attractive at all. Our relationship has been so formal and polite. Maybe he goes for curvy, tall women? And I’m Straight-Up-And-Down Sanaa, as Joshua dubbed me when I broke up with him. I hate that nickname. It’s the main reason I spent so much time in the karate dōjō. If I can’t be sexy, at least I can be strong.

The terminal pings, and my video is ready. I take the two feeds from outside of Miura’s gift shop and scrub back in time to the day before this last man died of internal injuries. He was rushed to the hospital from this shop according to the response team records. Miura’s store keeper told the medics who showed up that the man was crushed under boxes when stock shelves fell on him. Somehow I doubt that’s what really happened.

There! Matsuda walks into the gift shop with this man in front of him. Huh, Matsuda has a sword strapped to his back? When I pause and zoom in, the katana’s handle is peeking up over the top of his coat.

I start the video again and watch them enter the store. They have a short conversation, and the two men enter the back room. When I scrub forward fifteen minutes, the medics arrive, proceed to the back room, and eventually carry this man out on a stretcher. Matsuda follows them out and stands at the door dispassionately as the man is hauled into an ambulance and whisked away. He then jauntily walks off down the street like nothing happened.

Well, that video was not very damning. What other feeds are available for the area around this store? Another front video feed from two stores down? No. That’s not going to give me anything. What about around the back? Yes. A feed exists from one store down, and the camera is mounted opposite the door. I request the video for the same timeframe and bring it up on the screen next to the other video I just watched. I sync them both up and let them play at the same time.

When Matsuda and this man… Wait, who is this guy? I check my Ku 2 hospital records. His name is Hideo. When Matsuda and Hideo enter the back room, they come out the back alley less than a minute later with another man I didn’t see in the store. He must have been in the back room.

Dammit. They are on the edge of the right side of this video feed, flitting in and out of the frame. Hideo stands with his back against the wall while the other man speaks forcefully into his face.

Without warning, the unknown man steps aside, Matsuda takes two steps forward into the frame, and kicks Hideo straight in the abdomen.

With a gasp, my hands fly to my mouth. Hideo is on his knees and then on his side as Matsuda’s boot comes up and down again on Hideo’s ribs. Again and again. He winds up and uses the toe of his boot to kick Hideo in the face. Hideo slumps even further to the ground, blood spewing from his nose and mouth. He brings his arms up to his face to shield himself, his lips moving. Is he pleading for his life? No, Hideo’s mouth curls slightly. He’s laughing at Matsuda.

Matsuda’s hand flies up to his sword but the other man pulls at his arm, stopping him from cutting the last bit of life out of Hideo. Whatever Hideo said angered Matsuda enough to want to kill him. Instead, Matsuda draws a short knife from under his jacket. He’s about to stab this broken and bleeding lump of a man, but he flips the knife around and bludgeons Hideo upside the head until he’s unconscious.

“Sanaa.”

Sakai stands behind me. I didn’t even hear him come in. Bile rises in my throat as I turn back to the video. Hideo is being dragged inside, and the unknown man sprays the blood from the pavement outside with a hose.

I stand up shakily from the desk, push past Sakai, and run for the small bathroom two doors down from the theater. I’m about to lose my breakfast straight into the toilet when instead my vision goes black along the edges, and I sink to the floor to stop myself from keeling over.

No, no. Deep, deep breath. Concentrate on not passing out, Sanaa. Stay conscious. You’re stronger than this. Smarter than this. You will not collapse.

And with every moment I think these mantras to myself, the edge recedes, and I calm again.

I’m stronger than this. Smarter than this.

A soft knock on the door echoes in the tiny bathroom. “Sanaa, are you all right?”

“Go back! I’ll be there in a minute.”

I turn my cheek to the cool plastic wall of the stall and hope to the gods the bathroom was cleaned this morning. Hoisting myself up, I straighten my shirt, exit the stall, and startle at my pale, sweaty face in the mirror. My freckles stand out even more than usual, and my hair is stuck to the side of my cheek. I run my hands under the cold water from the tap and bring them to my eyes, pressing down hard until stars form in the blackness.

Don’t cry, Sanaa. Don’t be weak.

I release the pressure on my eyes and the world comes back into focus. Taking a deep breath, I wipe my hands off and return to the theater.

Sakai stands over my videos, Matsuda beating Hideo again. I don’t want to watch it a second time, yet I can’t tear my eyes from it.

“I’m sorry. I knew you had to see this even though I didn’t want you to,” he says.

“I can’t watch this stuff. I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not the kind that can sit and watch a man being beaten to death over and over.” My hand snaps out at the tablet, and I stab at the video with my finger until it goes away. “Turn it off!” The forcefulness of my stabbing pushes the tablet off the desk with a crash and causes a sob to bubble up.

Throwing myself at Sakai’s chest, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I have to feel and hold a real person, and I grip him even harder when his arms wrap around me too.

“You knew you were going to see this when you called up the video,” he whispers.

“I didn’t think it would be that bad. I thought… I thought I could handle it.” I pull back from his chest, tilting my head up to find his expression soft and kind.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he says while smoothing back my hair. “As kids, your mother and I witnessed these sorts of crimes all the time. When you see it enough, you become immune to it, but it doesn’t mean you hate it any less.”

I should let go of him, but I can’t. I need him. I rest my cheek on his chest and inhale a deep breath. He smells fresh, like his clothes are straight from the auto-hamper. No fear, just comfort.

“I’m sorry to say you’ll see more of this. There are others in the clans that commit this kind of violence but stick with Matsuda for now. He’s our biggest offender.”

I take a step back from him and nod. I’ve seen that cold stare and empty expression and know that Matsuda’s a killer, but the thought of following him makes me want to vomit. I have to be strong. I will be strong.

The tablet is thankfully not harmed when I grab it from the floor. I set up a series of jobs to follow all of Matsuda’s purchases for the past six months and into the future. When I come in tomorrow, I’ll pick up where I’m leaving off now. I’m going to watch this bastard until I know him better than he knows himself.

“It’s lunch time. Let’s get something to eat and put this behind us.”

“Okay.” I step to him and wipe my tears off the front of his shirt. “Sorry I cried on you.”

“Please,” he says with a smile. “Anytime.”

After lunch with Sakai where I stay silent, I walk into practice with Jiro, and I can’t concentrate. Can’t think. Can’t react. Jiro sees my distracted state and takes pity on me, not working me through the routines until I’m about to break like he usually would. We sit for a while, and I focus on keeping my shaking hands still.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” he asks as he glances at my hands.

“Yes and no. It’s been a rough day. I did eventually fall asleep after I looked at your drawing. It’s really beautiful. Like amazingly beautiful.”

“Oh thanks.” He’s a little embarrassed, but I’m not going to lie. I loved his artwork, and I want him to send me more.

“You’ve only ever shown them to your mother?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s the other artist in the family. I must have gotten the gene from her.”

“Did she teach you?” I’ve been forming a picture of this woman in my mind now for weeks. An artist was another thing I hadn’t counted on. I hope I get to meet her soon.

“She started me on shodō, of course.”

“Of course.” Don’t all Japanese kids learn calligraphy right from the womb? The stereotype is almost funny.

“And I learned quickly, but shodō is expensive what with all the ink, brushes, and paper so she taught me how to use the pen on the tablet. I have drawings saved from four years old on.”

“Wow. That must be an impressively huge collection.”

“Oh, I’ve deleted tons, but still, yes. It’s a lot.” He’s smiling. If I thought that he loved showing off his tattoos before, I know he’ll show me all of his drawings now. Maybe Jiro needs a friend? It’s moments like these that convince me he’s not romantically interested in me. He just wants someone to share with.

I lay down on the mat and stare at the ceiling. “I woke up at four-thirty and couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

Jiro leans back on his elbows beside me. “What’s keeping you awake at night?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, and it feels like a lie, but, “I’m just… lost.”

“Lost in someone else’s world,” he says. I think he’s in the same world with me.

“Yeah. I’m not sure who I am anymore. I watch other people all day, the inner workings of their lives. Where they go, who they eat with, what they do, what they read on the train, how many times they use the bathroom each day…”

“That explicit?”

“I know more about these people than they know about themselves.” I stare up at the lights, putting my arm under my head and letting out a big yawn. I’m slowing down and should probably get up before I fall asleep. We’re going to have to start practicing again anyway. Yet, I can’t help but close my eyes for a moment…

Oh no.

I climb out of a deep sleep and turn my head to the side. Jiro has moved to the mats against the wall and is sketching on his tablet.

“Jiro?” The sleep has barely left me, and my voice is shaky. I push myself up and groan. “Did I fall asleep? I’m so sorry,” I say in Japanese. I slip into Japanese when I’m sleepy. I must have been out.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, waving his hand.

I yawn and stretch, rubbing my sleepy face. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Jiro puts his tablet down and walks over to me. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I know how tired you are.”

“I don’t think Mark or your father would be happy with you taking pity on me.”

“True, but I don’t care.” He smiles down at me, his hair coming out from behind his ears and sweeping down over his face. Even in my half-asleep state his hair gets me every time.

I can’t believe I slept in front of him. I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing.

He helps me up and a wave of dizziness makes me sway, but he grabs me by the shoulders to steady me. “I should walk you to the train, and you should go home and rest. Maybe we shouldn’t meet up tonight?”

“No. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get home and have a shower. You don’t need to walk me to the train. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’ll at least walk you out.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I’m weak again but not from exhaustion.

I leave him at the front door and cross the street heading for the station. Turning around, he’s still watching me with a smile. I smile back. How could I not?