Streets of Nippon, 10/? [Atobe, SF AU]
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almondinflowerStreets of Nippon, chapter 10/12
Characters: Atobe, Hyoutei, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Tezuka Kuniharu
Summary: In which decisions are made, and the Tezukas (finally!) show up.
Wordcount: 3500
The master bedroom in the Rikkai safe house had been converted into a conference room, equipped with holoprojectors, multiple wall monitors, and even a neural link chair occupying what had once been the walk-in closet. The boardroom table was oblong with a walnut veneer. The accompanying high-back chairs had been designed for holoconference. Once the required configurations were made here and in Hyoutei headquarters, holograms of the individual team members would be projected onto each seat, so that attendees at both linked sites would enjoy the illusion that everyone was sitting together in a single room.
Yanagi walked them through the setup right before he and Inui left. It was straightforward technology – it took Keigo and Kabaji about fifteen minutes to make the arrangements. In the half-hour they had before the start of meeting they made short work of the delicatessen quiche that Yanagi had obligingly brought with him.
He'd been half-surprised that the Rikkai runners were so happy to leave him in the apartment unguarded. The bemusement had quickly vanished when Kabaji indicated that he was not letting Keigo leave.
Overpowering Kabaji in VR was easy; a physical fight was another thing.
Unexpectedly, his squadron leaders were all present and punctual. Holographic Jirou, sitting on his right, half-sprawled across the table and snoring. Holographic Hiyoshi Wakashi, seated stiffly at the opposite end, his face pathologically serious as ever.
The rest of them were unusually subdued. Keigo rarely called emergency meetings.
“We can start,” he said. Ootori began to take minutes.
Keigo looked around at his team, at the leaders he'd worked with for the last six years, and savoured the sense of regret that came, let it wash over him. Then he spoke:
“I've decided to cooperate with the decriminalisation of Hyoutei.”
Only Gakuto and Shishido were overtly surprised. Ootori and Oshitari looked pensive, Hiyoshi was calculating odds as usual, and as for Jirou – well, Jirou would have taken the announcement that an atomic bomb was falling on Shin Tokyo with equanimity and a snore.
Haginosuke was smiling.
Ootori spoke first. “Can you tell use what made you change your mind? While it's true that we never had a formal meeting to decide how we would respond to the Runner's Compliance Strategy, we were always led to believe that your position and Sakaki's were fixed.”
“Two things.” Ootori was perceptive, consummately courteous, a terrifying fighter both in and out of VR. He would have been the best candidate to take over Hyoutei, if not for the fact that Hiyoshi wanted it more. “Firstly, Sakaki and I were not aware that this initiative had its origins in Internal Security. Nor did we realise that they had been working towards decriminalisation for the better part of a decade. In short, we underestimated the degree of political will behind this movement.
“Secondly, we thought we had a certain ally in Rikkai. After talking to Sanada and Renji, I've learnt that their positions are far more – nuanced, than we assumed. They're leaning towards accepting a modified agreement with InSec”
“Have you discussed this with Sakaki?” asked Shishido.
“I don't need to.” He let them absorb that. He'd never let them feel it before, the degree of real influence he had on Sakaki's decisions. “Secondly. I'm happy to allow decriminalisation, but I don't intend to be part of it.” It's not like I even have a citizenship record to criminalise or decriminalise. “I will split Hyoutei into two. Those who want to stay in Nippon, will stay. Those who want to leave, will leave. Possibly to the Bundesrepublik, but more likely offplanet.
“I want to hear from each of you as to whether you can accept one of those choices. Remember that we can't all leave. One of you will have to replace me as president here.”
“I'm going with you,” Haginosuke drawled. He was draped lazily across his chair, and as he looked at Keigo (the holograms weren't quite good enough to manage eye contact) his smile was wide and brilliant.
Keigo's face softened. “I knew you would.”
“Me too!” Jirou said, sitting upright all of a sudden; for a moment Keigo thought he was going to get up and bounce around and ruin his hologram, but he just tilted his head to one side and beamed. “Moving countries sounds like fun.”
“Will moving even make any difference to you, given that you spend most of your time with link-cables in your skull?” Hiyoshi snorted. “I'll stay. Sorry Atobe, but I have no intention of following you halfway across the universe.”
Keigo raised a brow. “Even if you wanted to follow me to the ends of the world, I wouldn't let you.” No doubt the lure of being in charge of the new Hyoutei was a factor in Hiyoshi's decision. Very well. Keigo would let him try.
“I will stay. I think the changes are a good thing. I – I'd like to help somehow if I can,” Ootori said hesitantly.
That meant Shishido was staying, too, since the two were inseparable. Keigo felt a pang; he had not wanted to say goodbye to Shishido.
That left the paired leaders of the First Squadron. Oshitari and Gakuto were whispering, their heads bent together.
When they finally looked up, Oshitari's voice was colourless. “We need some time to think. May we have it?”
The thought that Oshitari might choose to remain in Nippon saddened Keigo more than he liked to admit, but he merely nodded curtly.
The rest of the Hyoutei runners would have to be informed and given the same choice, Keigo told them. Each leader was responsible for their own squadron. The sooner the better.
He considered telling them the truth about his identity, but dismissed it as sentimental and unnecessary. It would not change their upcoming duties and choices, and in many ways, it would be an unhelpful revelation.
#
Kabaji and Keigo stayed in the apartment overnight. Keigo's sleep was restless, punctuated by nightmares. He dreamed of the palace, with its manicured rock gardens and silent, graceful housemaids in kimonos and his father, precise and perfectionist and unnaturally young. He dreamed of space, of turning backflips in zero-gravity while Sakaki watched indulgently.
He dreamed of Yukimura, and came awake, breathing hard. He drifted back into a light, uneasy slumber, and when the morning light crept in between the slats of the vertical blinds, he did not feel rested.
Tezuka had agreed to visit this morning.
He had wondered several times in the last year whether he should visit Tezuka in VR. Not to apologise – Keigo did not regret the battle that had incapacitated the Seigaku president for the last twelve months – but just to see Tezuka, because he wanted to.
There were few people in the world who fascinated Keigo the way Tezuka Kunimitsu did. Discovering that Tezuka had worked undercover for the last six years, that he felt deeply enough about fighting crime to live his adolescence as a runner, only compounded Keigo's interest.
These thoughts were on his mind as he awaited the arrival of the Seigaku president, and he found himself unexpectedly nervous when the intercom finally beeped to announce that Tezuka had reached the apartment.
Keigo let him in, and they shook hands.
The last time they'd met in person had been eighteen months ago. Tezuka had grown even taller since then, slim and long-legged and even a little awkward. The face and figure of a supermodel, but not the posture – he was simultaneously too athletic and too formal, he carried himself like a martial artist.
As always, Keigo thought Tezuka was beautiful, but resented having to look up at him.
“I'm glad to see you're out of hospital,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “Will the doctors let you go back to your usual work?”
“Six more months of neurophysiotherapy. Then they'll reassess.” There was an uncertainty about Tezuka's body language as he took off his leather boots, entered the apartment. Keigo wondered what it signified.
They ended up standing at the kitchen counter, eating blood-oranges that Kabaji had peeled.
“I see that Hyoutei is cooperating with Rikkai now,” Tezuka began.
Keigo interrupted: “I see that there's at least some trust between you and Rikkai, since they disclosed my location to you.”
Tezuka frowned. His hands stilled, halfway through dividing blood-orange slices with his thumbs. “They are holding something back from us. From you too.”
“The truth about Yukimura.” He said it as a test, to see what Tezuka knew.
“I have been told of Yukimura's identity.”
Keigo studied Tezuka's face, looking for a hint of any giveaway emotion, but he would have had better luck getting Kabaji to make a public speech. “Then you know how volatile the situation is.”
A child of the imperial line poisoned by the Silver Emperor, euthanised by his own mother, abandoned by his father's house – and now in charge of Shinnihon's most powerful runner syndicate. There was little chance that Yukimura's intentions towards the government were purely benign.
“Do you really think it's still worth working with him?” Keigo asked.
“My father is not without fault,” Tezuka said.
An interesting position. Strictly speaking, Internal Security's duty to the collateral branches of the emperor's family was token at best. Legally Yukimura had no right to the throne, even though Keigo's sisters had continued to style themselves imperial princesses even after marriage.
If the old man had ordered Yukimura poisoned, even InSec had a duty to carry out his orders. That was the way Shinnihon worked. It had never been a true monarchy; since its founding the country had been a tyranny, subject to the preternaturally competent but autocratic rule of one man.
In theory InSec could have protected Yukimura all those years ago. Keigo knew, and Tezuka knew, that it would not have done so.
“You're not the only person who feels guilty about this.” Keigo leaned back against the kitchen wall. “We should at least be sure of what we're agreeing to before we discharge any perceived debts.”
“Will you be participating in the restructuring?”
“I'm leaving the country.”
“Ah.”
“I have no intention of ever claiming the throne.”
“My family will be disappointed.”
“Really? From what I saw of your mother, she'd be all for democracy.”
Tezuka did not evince surprise at the announcement that Keigo had met with Ayana before. “I do not think that we are ready for it.”
And there was truth in that. Even a transition to a constitutional monarchy would be complicated for Shinnihon; Sakaki had just laughed in derision the one time Keigo had suggested it.
Then again, a transition to a rule under anyone but the old man would be complicated for Shinnihon.
“Yukimura is probably aiming for revenge against my family,” Keigo warned. He'd seen it yesterday, Sanada's understanding of Yukimura, beautiful and tragic and helpless and powerful, simultaneously gentle and inhuman and hopelessly, irreversibly damaged.
Yukimura shared the Silver Emperor's blood. There was no one in their family who was not dangerous.
If Yukimura intended to wreak vengeance on the imperial line Keigo was happy to step aside and let him do it. Tezuka's priorities, however, were a little different.
“Are you loyal to the Crysanthemum Throne?” asked Keigo.
“My family is,” Tezuka said, by way of an evasive and loaded answer.
“Then, what do you plan to do about Rikkai?”
Tezuka's eyes flickered downward. “We will see. Do you really intend to leave?”
“Is there any reason not to?”
“You could have a useful role here. Your skills would be needed.”
“Turn Nippon into a democracy, the way you have cleaned out its runners,” Keigo said, “and I'll think about it. Right now the only way I belong here is in a grave or on a throne.”
“What will you do with Hyoutei if you are leaving?”
Keigo explained to him the proposed division of the syndicate. Tezuka made no comment. “I'm assuming that's acceptable to the Patrol and to InSec?”
“It will have to be,” said Tezuka, in a resigned tone. “Remember that anyone who goes offshore with you without signing the compliance strategy will retain their criminal records, if they have one.”
Keigo shrugged. “They'll sign. Just make it so that their slate can be wiped clean before they leave. Else no deal.”
Tezuka looked amused, but assented. “I will arrange it with Inoue-san and Yamato.”
“And your father? Is there any chance I could talk to him?”
He didn't miss the subtle transient shadow that passed across Tezuka's face. Interesting. “Must you?”
“Not to insult you, but I think it's pretty clear who's in charge of the decriminalisation movement here, and it's not Inoue or you.”
If Tezuka found Keigo's choice of phrasing insulting, he didn't show it. “My father will be meeting Yukimura online today, just before lunchtime. If you like, I can bring you there.”
Keigo smirked. Now things were beginning to go somewhere.
#
There was only one neural-link chair in the apartment, and so it was decided that Tezuka should head back to Seigaku, with an agreement to meet at the Tennis Hub at a quarter to eleven. Keigo passed the morning in a fog of frustration and heady impatience. House arrest had imposed upon him a degree of idleness he was unused to.
The work is probably piling up on my desk with each passing minute, he thought, and Haginosuke had better not have created yet another interpersonal crisis with the Sixth Squadron because if our tech support breaks down at a time like this, I'll strangle him, I really will.
In the end his boredom got the better of him, and he jacked-in to the Net half an hour before the appointed time. VR was not one his preferred hobbies. It reminded him too much of the hours and days he'd spent training in his childhood, floating in digital spaces he could not control, forced to create order out of aberrant computerised shadows.
But that childhood had given him a mastery of the Net that went much further than even his squadron leaders realised. When Keigo entered the Tennis Hub, he did so under a cloak of anonymity that fewer than ten people in Shinnihon could have achieved.
Although, that degree of anonymity is an identifier in itself, he thought, wandering through the main forum, which today had been transformed into an anachronistic Silk Road trading post: a caravanserai complete with virtual Mongolian horses drinking from stone troughs and non-human avatars in kaftans and veils, adjoining an open-air market that contained a token number of decorative spice and street food stalls but mostly consisted of genuine vendors dealing in information and security. There were not many runners here today, or at least few that were immediately identifiable as such. Given the volatility of the political situation, it was unlikely that many syndicates would be permitting their runners to appear anywhere as public as the Tennis Hub without a very good reason.
He passed the time reading newsfeeds. The Runner's Compliance Strategy was topping the trends in most Shinnihon threads and communities, although there was the expected unnatural silence regarding InSec's involvement in the issue. (Censorship agents hard at work as usual.)
When Tezuka logged on, Keigo felt it automatically, recognising a particular protocol favoured by the Seigaku neural network. He rapid-fired an instant message: I'm here.
Tezuka appeared in front of him, instantly and elegantly; Keigo was reminded that the Seigaku president had spent the last year confined to VR.
“Let's go,” Keigo said. They were both using inanely generic avatars, selected from the default options the Tennis Hub offered when one logged on, and Keigo was impatient to go somewhere where he could talk to a Tezuka Kunimitsu who didn't look like a composite photo.
Tezuka private-messaged him the location of a neural network. They logged off the Tennis Hub and then onto the new location. There were multiple security clearance requirements at this hub, a few of which Keigo could have hacked easily. Some were harder. In all cases he waited for Tezuka to walk him through the correct protocols.
They arrived in an auto-generated space that came with the basic features and not much else. Blue sky, grey ground, a line marking the horizon on all sides. If desired, control panels appeared as virtual objects – oversized tablet infodevices floating in front of the user – but their default setting was invisible, subject to direct neural control. Keigo absorbed all this information in a matter of moments, then transformed the area into a space observation deck, complete with a view of a randomly generated star system and asteroid belt.
“Very nice.”
The newcomer appeared next to the bulky telescope Keigo had placed at the centre of the deck. Keigo had felt his appearance a full second before hearing his words or seeing his figure. The stranger's VR abilities were not threatening.
To become Shinnihon's Director of Internal Security, one had to be threatening in other, equally significant ways.
“Thank you for being here, Kunimitsu.” Tezuka Kuniharu smiled. It was an affable, paternal, even vulnerable smile. “You're the most reliable security I could think of, given the circumstances.”
Tezuka bowed. He had deactivated the neuroconnection that linked his true emotions to his avatar's body language; as long as they were in VR, Keigo would not be able to identify what Tezuka was feeling.
“And you brought a most welcome visitor.” It was Tezuka Kuniharu's turn to bow. “You go by the name Atobe Keigo, I believe. I've been hearing quite a lot about you, these last two days.”
Kuniharu's avatar was finely formed, and matched the images Keigo had previously seen of the man. His face was attractive in a forgettable way; the same features that in Tezuka were refined to astonishing beauty, were present here in a muted and benign form.
Keigo said, “Then we are meeting here with the advantage of foreknowledge on both sides. An excellent pleasure.”
“It is an honour to see you again, Your Highness.” The emotion was honest, straight from the heart; Keigo could feel it in the space itself, not just in Kuniharu's avatar. His telepathy felt it.
“I wish I could return the sentiment,” he said.
“I see,” Kuniharu sighed. “He hasn't succeeded in creating another heir, you know. Wouldn't you give it a try?”
Keigo paused, unsure for a moment. He'd been told by Sanada to leverage his identity at the right time and to maximum effect, without being told what effect he was supposed to aim for.
On the other hand – recalling the holographic flowchart that he'd pored over last night before going to bed, too massive and divergent to be memorised – there was every chance that Rikkai had already figured out what 'to maximum advantage' meant, and it might not involve Keigo knowing what role he played in the cause-and-effect chain of events.
The flow diagram had not been complete, either. Those golden, desired outcomes had been blank or, at best, terse in description.
He still had very little idea of what Rikkai considered a happy ending.
Keigo spoke, politely and artificially: “What makes you think he still wants an heir?”
“Oh, he does. Or rather,” Kuniharu cocked his head, “in the absence of immortality, an heir seems like the least of possible evils to him. I have to say, right now I mostly agree with him. Some of us did consider a democracy movement, but he's threatened to regard any attempts at political reform as high treason, which has dampened the ardour somewhat. Plus we've had our hands full with runner syndicates for ten years.”
“Is the old m- my father behind the Runner's Compliance Strategy?”
“Your father,” Kuniharu said thoughtfully, “has not been behind much in the way of strategy these last two years. It wasn't until this summer that it even occurred to him to tell InSec that you were possibly alive. And that was because the Sanadas were trying to convince him that their eldest son was a better fit for the succession than the Yamato boy.”
“You're offering an awful lot of information,” Keigo said, “when I haven't given you any.”
Kuniharu shrugged, smiled. “That's the carrot, with promise of more if you behave. The stick is when I tell the Silver Emperor that I've found you and he tears the city apart until we have you in custody.”
On to Chapter 11.
Characters: Atobe, Hyoutei, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Tezuka Kuniharu
Summary: In which decisions are made, and the Tezukas (finally!) show up.
Wordcount: 3500
The master bedroom in the Rikkai safe house had been converted into a conference room, equipped with holoprojectors, multiple wall monitors, and even a neural link chair occupying what had once been the walk-in closet. The boardroom table was oblong with a walnut veneer. The accompanying high-back chairs had been designed for holoconference. Once the required configurations were made here and in Hyoutei headquarters, holograms of the individual team members would be projected onto each seat, so that attendees at both linked sites would enjoy the illusion that everyone was sitting together in a single room.
Yanagi walked them through the setup right before he and Inui left. It was straightforward technology – it took Keigo and Kabaji about fifteen minutes to make the arrangements. In the half-hour they had before the start of meeting they made short work of the delicatessen quiche that Yanagi had obligingly brought with him.
He'd been half-surprised that the Rikkai runners were so happy to leave him in the apartment unguarded. The bemusement had quickly vanished when Kabaji indicated that he was not letting Keigo leave.
Overpowering Kabaji in VR was easy; a physical fight was another thing.
Unexpectedly, his squadron leaders were all present and punctual. Holographic Jirou, sitting on his right, half-sprawled across the table and snoring. Holographic Hiyoshi Wakashi, seated stiffly at the opposite end, his face pathologically serious as ever.
The rest of them were unusually subdued. Keigo rarely called emergency meetings.
“We can start,” he said. Ootori began to take minutes.
Keigo looked around at his team, at the leaders he'd worked with for the last six years, and savoured the sense of regret that came, let it wash over him. Then he spoke:
“I've decided to cooperate with the decriminalisation of Hyoutei.”
Only Gakuto and Shishido were overtly surprised. Ootori and Oshitari looked pensive, Hiyoshi was calculating odds as usual, and as for Jirou – well, Jirou would have taken the announcement that an atomic bomb was falling on Shin Tokyo with equanimity and a snore.
Haginosuke was smiling.
Ootori spoke first. “Can you tell use what made you change your mind? While it's true that we never had a formal meeting to decide how we would respond to the Runner's Compliance Strategy, we were always led to believe that your position and Sakaki's were fixed.”
“Two things.” Ootori was perceptive, consummately courteous, a terrifying fighter both in and out of VR. He would have been the best candidate to take over Hyoutei, if not for the fact that Hiyoshi wanted it more. “Firstly, Sakaki and I were not aware that this initiative had its origins in Internal Security. Nor did we realise that they had been working towards decriminalisation for the better part of a decade. In short, we underestimated the degree of political will behind this movement.
“Secondly, we thought we had a certain ally in Rikkai. After talking to Sanada and Renji, I've learnt that their positions are far more – nuanced, than we assumed. They're leaning towards accepting a modified agreement with InSec”
“Have you discussed this with Sakaki?” asked Shishido.
“I don't need to.” He let them absorb that. He'd never let them feel it before, the degree of real influence he had on Sakaki's decisions. “Secondly. I'm happy to allow decriminalisation, but I don't intend to be part of it.” It's not like I even have a citizenship record to criminalise or decriminalise. “I will split Hyoutei into two. Those who want to stay in Nippon, will stay. Those who want to leave, will leave. Possibly to the Bundesrepublik, but more likely offplanet.
“I want to hear from each of you as to whether you can accept one of those choices. Remember that we can't all leave. One of you will have to replace me as president here.”
“I'm going with you,” Haginosuke drawled. He was draped lazily across his chair, and as he looked at Keigo (the holograms weren't quite good enough to manage eye contact) his smile was wide and brilliant.
Keigo's face softened. “I knew you would.”
“Me too!” Jirou said, sitting upright all of a sudden; for a moment Keigo thought he was going to get up and bounce around and ruin his hologram, but he just tilted his head to one side and beamed. “Moving countries sounds like fun.”
“Will moving even make any difference to you, given that you spend most of your time with link-cables in your skull?” Hiyoshi snorted. “I'll stay. Sorry Atobe, but I have no intention of following you halfway across the universe.”
Keigo raised a brow. “Even if you wanted to follow me to the ends of the world, I wouldn't let you.” No doubt the lure of being in charge of the new Hyoutei was a factor in Hiyoshi's decision. Very well. Keigo would let him try.
“I will stay. I think the changes are a good thing. I – I'd like to help somehow if I can,” Ootori said hesitantly.
That meant Shishido was staying, too, since the two were inseparable. Keigo felt a pang; he had not wanted to say goodbye to Shishido.
That left the paired leaders of the First Squadron. Oshitari and Gakuto were whispering, their heads bent together.
When they finally looked up, Oshitari's voice was colourless. “We need some time to think. May we have it?”
The thought that Oshitari might choose to remain in Nippon saddened Keigo more than he liked to admit, but he merely nodded curtly.
The rest of the Hyoutei runners would have to be informed and given the same choice, Keigo told them. Each leader was responsible for their own squadron. The sooner the better.
He considered telling them the truth about his identity, but dismissed it as sentimental and unnecessary. It would not change their upcoming duties and choices, and in many ways, it would be an unhelpful revelation.
Kabaji and Keigo stayed in the apartment overnight. Keigo's sleep was restless, punctuated by nightmares. He dreamed of the palace, with its manicured rock gardens and silent, graceful housemaids in kimonos and his father, precise and perfectionist and unnaturally young. He dreamed of space, of turning backflips in zero-gravity while Sakaki watched indulgently.
He dreamed of Yukimura, and came awake, breathing hard. He drifted back into a light, uneasy slumber, and when the morning light crept in between the slats of the vertical blinds, he did not feel rested.
Tezuka had agreed to visit this morning.
He had wondered several times in the last year whether he should visit Tezuka in VR. Not to apologise – Keigo did not regret the battle that had incapacitated the Seigaku president for the last twelve months – but just to see Tezuka, because he wanted to.
There were few people in the world who fascinated Keigo the way Tezuka Kunimitsu did. Discovering that Tezuka had worked undercover for the last six years, that he felt deeply enough about fighting crime to live his adolescence as a runner, only compounded Keigo's interest.
These thoughts were on his mind as he awaited the arrival of the Seigaku president, and he found himself unexpectedly nervous when the intercom finally beeped to announce that Tezuka had reached the apartment.
Keigo let him in, and they shook hands.
The last time they'd met in person had been eighteen months ago. Tezuka had grown even taller since then, slim and long-legged and even a little awkward. The face and figure of a supermodel, but not the posture – he was simultaneously too athletic and too formal, he carried himself like a martial artist.
As always, Keigo thought Tezuka was beautiful, but resented having to look up at him.
“I'm glad to see you're out of hospital,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “Will the doctors let you go back to your usual work?”
“Six more months of neurophysiotherapy. Then they'll reassess.” There was an uncertainty about Tezuka's body language as he took off his leather boots, entered the apartment. Keigo wondered what it signified.
They ended up standing at the kitchen counter, eating blood-oranges that Kabaji had peeled.
“I see that Hyoutei is cooperating with Rikkai now,” Tezuka began.
Keigo interrupted: “I see that there's at least some trust between you and Rikkai, since they disclosed my location to you.”
Tezuka frowned. His hands stilled, halfway through dividing blood-orange slices with his thumbs. “They are holding something back from us. From you too.”
“The truth about Yukimura.” He said it as a test, to see what Tezuka knew.
“I have been told of Yukimura's identity.”
Keigo studied Tezuka's face, looking for a hint of any giveaway emotion, but he would have had better luck getting Kabaji to make a public speech. “Then you know how volatile the situation is.”
A child of the imperial line poisoned by the Silver Emperor, euthanised by his own mother, abandoned by his father's house – and now in charge of Shinnihon's most powerful runner syndicate. There was little chance that Yukimura's intentions towards the government were purely benign.
“Do you really think it's still worth working with him?” Keigo asked.
“My father is not without fault,” Tezuka said.
An interesting position. Strictly speaking, Internal Security's duty to the collateral branches of the emperor's family was token at best. Legally Yukimura had no right to the throne, even though Keigo's sisters had continued to style themselves imperial princesses even after marriage.
If the old man had ordered Yukimura poisoned, even InSec had a duty to carry out his orders. That was the way Shinnihon worked. It had never been a true monarchy; since its founding the country had been a tyranny, subject to the preternaturally competent but autocratic rule of one man.
In theory InSec could have protected Yukimura all those years ago. Keigo knew, and Tezuka knew, that it would not have done so.
“You're not the only person who feels guilty about this.” Keigo leaned back against the kitchen wall. “We should at least be sure of what we're agreeing to before we discharge any perceived debts.”
“Will you be participating in the restructuring?”
“I'm leaving the country.”
“Ah.”
“I have no intention of ever claiming the throne.”
“My family will be disappointed.”
“Really? From what I saw of your mother, she'd be all for democracy.”
Tezuka did not evince surprise at the announcement that Keigo had met with Ayana before. “I do not think that we are ready for it.”
And there was truth in that. Even a transition to a constitutional monarchy would be complicated for Shinnihon; Sakaki had just laughed in derision the one time Keigo had suggested it.
Then again, a transition to a rule under anyone but the old man would be complicated for Shinnihon.
“Yukimura is probably aiming for revenge against my family,” Keigo warned. He'd seen it yesterday, Sanada's understanding of Yukimura, beautiful and tragic and helpless and powerful, simultaneously gentle and inhuman and hopelessly, irreversibly damaged.
Yukimura shared the Silver Emperor's blood. There was no one in their family who was not dangerous.
If Yukimura intended to wreak vengeance on the imperial line Keigo was happy to step aside and let him do it. Tezuka's priorities, however, were a little different.
“Are you loyal to the Crysanthemum Throne?” asked Keigo.
“My family is,” Tezuka said, by way of an evasive and loaded answer.
“Then, what do you plan to do about Rikkai?”
Tezuka's eyes flickered downward. “We will see. Do you really intend to leave?”
“Is there any reason not to?”
“You could have a useful role here. Your skills would be needed.”
“Turn Nippon into a democracy, the way you have cleaned out its runners,” Keigo said, “and I'll think about it. Right now the only way I belong here is in a grave or on a throne.”
“What will you do with Hyoutei if you are leaving?”
Keigo explained to him the proposed division of the syndicate. Tezuka made no comment. “I'm assuming that's acceptable to the Patrol and to InSec?”
“It will have to be,” said Tezuka, in a resigned tone. “Remember that anyone who goes offshore with you without signing the compliance strategy will retain their criminal records, if they have one.”
Keigo shrugged. “They'll sign. Just make it so that their slate can be wiped clean before they leave. Else no deal.”
Tezuka looked amused, but assented. “I will arrange it with Inoue-san and Yamato.”
“And your father? Is there any chance I could talk to him?”
He didn't miss the subtle transient shadow that passed across Tezuka's face. Interesting. “Must you?”
“Not to insult you, but I think it's pretty clear who's in charge of the decriminalisation movement here, and it's not Inoue or you.”
If Tezuka found Keigo's choice of phrasing insulting, he didn't show it. “My father will be meeting Yukimura online today, just before lunchtime. If you like, I can bring you there.”
Keigo smirked. Now things were beginning to go somewhere.
There was only one neural-link chair in the apartment, and so it was decided that Tezuka should head back to Seigaku, with an agreement to meet at the Tennis Hub at a quarter to eleven. Keigo passed the morning in a fog of frustration and heady impatience. House arrest had imposed upon him a degree of idleness he was unused to.
The work is probably piling up on my desk with each passing minute, he thought, and Haginosuke had better not have created yet another interpersonal crisis with the Sixth Squadron because if our tech support breaks down at a time like this, I'll strangle him, I really will.
In the end his boredom got the better of him, and he jacked-in to the Net half an hour before the appointed time. VR was not one his preferred hobbies. It reminded him too much of the hours and days he'd spent training in his childhood, floating in digital spaces he could not control, forced to create order out of aberrant computerised shadows.
But that childhood had given him a mastery of the Net that went much further than even his squadron leaders realised. When Keigo entered the Tennis Hub, he did so under a cloak of anonymity that fewer than ten people in Shinnihon could have achieved.
Although, that degree of anonymity is an identifier in itself, he thought, wandering through the main forum, which today had been transformed into an anachronistic Silk Road trading post: a caravanserai complete with virtual Mongolian horses drinking from stone troughs and non-human avatars in kaftans and veils, adjoining an open-air market that contained a token number of decorative spice and street food stalls but mostly consisted of genuine vendors dealing in information and security. There were not many runners here today, or at least few that were immediately identifiable as such. Given the volatility of the political situation, it was unlikely that many syndicates would be permitting their runners to appear anywhere as public as the Tennis Hub without a very good reason.
He passed the time reading newsfeeds. The Runner's Compliance Strategy was topping the trends in most Shinnihon threads and communities, although there was the expected unnatural silence regarding InSec's involvement in the issue. (Censorship agents hard at work as usual.)
When Tezuka logged on, Keigo felt it automatically, recognising a particular protocol favoured by the Seigaku neural network. He rapid-fired an instant message: I'm here.
Tezuka appeared in front of him, instantly and elegantly; Keigo was reminded that the Seigaku president had spent the last year confined to VR.
“Let's go,” Keigo said. They were both using inanely generic avatars, selected from the default options the Tennis Hub offered when one logged on, and Keigo was impatient to go somewhere where he could talk to a Tezuka Kunimitsu who didn't look like a composite photo.
Tezuka private-messaged him the location of a neural network. They logged off the Tennis Hub and then onto the new location. There were multiple security clearance requirements at this hub, a few of which Keigo could have hacked easily. Some were harder. In all cases he waited for Tezuka to walk him through the correct protocols.
They arrived in an auto-generated space that came with the basic features and not much else. Blue sky, grey ground, a line marking the horizon on all sides. If desired, control panels appeared as virtual objects – oversized tablet infodevices floating in front of the user – but their default setting was invisible, subject to direct neural control. Keigo absorbed all this information in a matter of moments, then transformed the area into a space observation deck, complete with a view of a randomly generated star system and asteroid belt.
“Very nice.”
The newcomer appeared next to the bulky telescope Keigo had placed at the centre of the deck. Keigo had felt his appearance a full second before hearing his words or seeing his figure. The stranger's VR abilities were not threatening.
To become Shinnihon's Director of Internal Security, one had to be threatening in other, equally significant ways.
“Thank you for being here, Kunimitsu.” Tezuka Kuniharu smiled. It was an affable, paternal, even vulnerable smile. “You're the most reliable security I could think of, given the circumstances.”
Tezuka bowed. He had deactivated the neuroconnection that linked his true emotions to his avatar's body language; as long as they were in VR, Keigo would not be able to identify what Tezuka was feeling.
“And you brought a most welcome visitor.” It was Tezuka Kuniharu's turn to bow. “You go by the name Atobe Keigo, I believe. I've been hearing quite a lot about you, these last two days.”
Kuniharu's avatar was finely formed, and matched the images Keigo had previously seen of the man. His face was attractive in a forgettable way; the same features that in Tezuka were refined to astonishing beauty, were present here in a muted and benign form.
Keigo said, “Then we are meeting here with the advantage of foreknowledge on both sides. An excellent pleasure.”
“It is an honour to see you again, Your Highness.” The emotion was honest, straight from the heart; Keigo could feel it in the space itself, not just in Kuniharu's avatar. His telepathy felt it.
“I wish I could return the sentiment,” he said.
“I see,” Kuniharu sighed. “He hasn't succeeded in creating another heir, you know. Wouldn't you give it a try?”
Keigo paused, unsure for a moment. He'd been told by Sanada to leverage his identity at the right time and to maximum effect, without being told what effect he was supposed to aim for.
On the other hand – recalling the holographic flowchart that he'd pored over last night before going to bed, too massive and divergent to be memorised – there was every chance that Rikkai had already figured out what 'to maximum advantage' meant, and it might not involve Keigo knowing what role he played in the cause-and-effect chain of events.
The flow diagram had not been complete, either. Those golden, desired outcomes had been blank or, at best, terse in description.
He still had very little idea of what Rikkai considered a happy ending.
Keigo spoke, politely and artificially: “What makes you think he still wants an heir?”
“Oh, he does. Or rather,” Kuniharu cocked his head, “in the absence of immortality, an heir seems like the least of possible evils to him. I have to say, right now I mostly agree with him. Some of us did consider a democracy movement, but he's threatened to regard any attempts at political reform as high treason, which has dampened the ardour somewhat. Plus we've had our hands full with runner syndicates for ten years.”
“Is the old m- my father behind the Runner's Compliance Strategy?”
“Your father,” Kuniharu said thoughtfully, “has not been behind much in the way of strategy these last two years. It wasn't until this summer that it even occurred to him to tell InSec that you were possibly alive. And that was because the Sanadas were trying to convince him that their eldest son was a better fit for the succession than the Yamato boy.”
“You're offering an awful lot of information,” Keigo said, “when I haven't given you any.”
Kuniharu shrugged, smiled. “That's the carrot, with promise of more if you behave. The stick is when I tell the Silver Emperor that I've found you and he tears the city apart until we have you in custody.”
On to Chapter 11.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-12-06 01:21 am (UTC)I hope we get more with Yukimura. I realize this is Atobe's story, but I'm so intrigued by Yukimura.
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Date: 2011-01-04 02:39 pm (UTC)ahahaha, I have this feeling that Yukimura is one of those characters who loses impact when overplayed (in general I mean, not just in this fic). possibly that is just the canon influencing me, though (arrgh Konomi why)
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Date: 2011-01-04 03:00 pm (UTC)Your Yukimura is just so lovely though. I love him to death. I think he's quite spot on. Very chilling. :D
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Date: 2011-01-08 12:01 am (UTC)But Atobe's crush for Tezuka is too adorable I can't resist. They are like 2 faces of the same coin, aren't they?
I wonder if Seigaku's runners will have more roles in the future? I would really loved to see them. (Not that I mind seeing Hyotei and Rikkai's awesomeness)
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Date: 2011-01-08 07:23 am (UTC)Well, Atobe needs to have at least one adorable characteristic; he's never particularly adorable otherwise. XD
*coughs and looks shifty* Well, truth be told I'm not actually any good at writing Seigaku, which is part of why they don't show up nearly as much as the other two schools. When I first started this fic a couple of years ago I had a couple of sidefics planned involving the Fuji siblings (Yumiko included) and the Golden Pair respectively, but I can't actually remember what the plot of those two stories was meant to entail.... So yeah. -_- I'll try to write something on Seigaku if I can find the time/inspiration, but no promises.
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Date: 2011-01-09 10:59 pm (UTC)Hahaha, It suits him very well, considering how obsess he is with Tezuka in canon.
I won't believe it when you said you couldn't write Seigaku, Your Tezuka's side fic and Fuji scene in chapter 6, the Shin Tokyo vignettes, THEY ARE AWESOME.
Fuji siblings and golden pair!! *__* I really hope your muses come back to you soon, *sigh* such a shame they go away.
Thank you!! ^^