Bossa for Sakurajima
An Original Work of Fiction by Rob Barba
Copyright Robert R. Barba/Mitsukai! Digital Design Co. Ltd.,
except lyrics from "The Girl From Ipanema" copyright Jobim & Gimbel.

Part One: Kagoshima Bossa Blues

"Tall and tan and young and lovely,
The Girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, each one she passes
goes 'Aaaaaah'...

When she walks, she's like a samba
That swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes, each one she passes
goes 'Aaaaaah'...

Oh, but he watches so sadly,
How can he tell her he loves her?
Yes, he would give my his heart gladly....
But each day as she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at he..."

"NISHI-KAGOSHIMA STATION.  NOW APPROACHING NISHI-KAGOSHIMA STATION."
"Rashi, we're here."

Ryutsu Aorashi regrettably shut down his minidisk player during one of his
favorite songs.  The silky, entrancing voice of Astrud Gilberto was probably
much more comforting to him at the moment than what he really felt, but that
was to be expected in a place like this.  After all, this was the rest of
his life, and the rest of his life so far looked like it was going to be a
truly bleak one, indeed.  As the train came to a stop, he finally got a
glimpse of the place he was in.

Kagoshima, the cultural center of Satsuma prefecture on historic Kyushu
island.
Kagoshima, a beautiful resort town with the famous volcanic island of
Sakurajima seated in its bay.
Kagoshima, only a couple of hours away from the bright lights of Nagasaki.
Kagoshima, a place that was, to quote a gaijin term he once heard, "Bum-fuck
Egypt", whatever that meant.

((Jamais vu,)) he mused grimly as he stepped off the train and stared at the
cold, rainy streets of the town, complete with the active volcano,
Sakurajima, loosing a gray ribbon of steam.  ((The feeling that you've never
been there before, even though you have.))  As the JR disgorged the rest of
its passengers before moving on, he just stood there, watching the endless
procession of people moving by, such as he had the last time he was here,
ten years ago.

"Well, this is your new home, 'Rashi-kun," an aged voice, akin to crumpled
paper, spoke at his side.

"Home, yeah, right, sure.  This isn't home, this is prison.  Tokyo's home;
this is the middle of nowhere," he nearly spat, ironically keeping a
carefully respectful tone.  Granted he didn't feel the convictions of his
statements at the moment, but the old woman was, after all, family.

"You'll grow used to it.  Besides, where were you going to stay in Tokyo?
You're only 16.  You can't afford to live by yourself, and no grandson of
mine is going to live on the streets," the old woman said with the
conviction of the gods.

((That's probably because I'm your *only* grandson,)) he wanted to say, but
held his tongue.  Fighting wasn't going to do a damn bit of good, and
besides, fighting, after all, was at the crux of this whole damn mess in the
first place.  If she'd had other grandsons, maybe even other grandchildren,
she probably would have left him to his own devices and taken some other
unfortunate under her wing.  As it was, though, the lone child of the
recently deceased Ryutsus Junpu and Umi was the one left to fulfill the
family destiny, the one left vacant as his parents had no other children
before they died last month and the prospects of his aunt Soyokaze having
kids anytime soon was minimal.

The old woman fixed him with aged, almond eyes.  "Oh, don't think I'm so
senile that I don't know what you're thinking, Aorashi.  I put up with that
attitude from my children for years.  That will be the death of me someday,
but not until I ensure that the Ryutsu School of Empty-Handed Arts has a new
generation to pass down to."  She paused for a second and added with an
imperious tilt of her head, "That's *true* arts, as in the martial
disciplines, not that doodling you do with your computer."

That was his breaking point.  "'Doodling?' Is that what you think I was
doing?  I was *this* close to earning a scholarship to the Art University
just for my computer graphics alone, and if they'd seen any of my other
stuff, I would've been set!  My teachers said repeatedly that I had the
makings of a world-famous manga-ke or animator!  And you made me throw it
all away just so the world can have another generation of thugs who know how
to beat people up?"

"The School is not about 'beating people up', it is about discipline!" she
retorted in a tone that was far calmer than his.  "Do not the katas you
practice at night help towards patience in mastering your...computer art?"
The last two words she spat out with a disgust that one usually reserved for
the basest theories.

Rashi rolled his eyes.  "I only do the 'arts' because I need to keep in
shape, or else I'm going to get fat.  Besides, Miki liked my muscles."
Miki, his girlfriend...or rather, former girlfriend; her enchanting face was
still fresh and etched in his mind, and to say their farewell was sad was an
understatement.  Just another one of the heartbreaks he'd experienced in the
past month or so in the wake of all that was changing.  When they'd kissed
goodbye, it had been their first, last, and only kiss.  She said she'd write
often and see him when she got the chance, but he was under no illusions -
he'd be surprised if she remembered him a month from now.  That was just the
way the world was; those legendary, fantasy romances were for the Books of
Manyoshu, not modern Japanese life.

His grandmother huffed, unaware or unconcerned about his internal dialog.
"That girl wasn't right for you.  She hardly looked the type to bear a child
worthy of carrying on the art."

"Did it ever occur to you that I liked her for *more* than that?"  ((To say
nothing of the fact that I wasn't with her based on her baby-making
abilities?  At least, not anytime soon....))

"Your father said the same thing about your mother," she said in stoic
tones.  "Fortunately, she wasn't as much of a waste as I feared she might
be, and at least she allowed your father to teach you the arts."  She fixed
him with another look.  "And let's get something straight right here and
now, young man.  You may think me a callous old woman, but frankly I don't
care.  Yes, I am hurt that your father died, just as much as I am hurt the
day he left Kagoshima to seek an artist's career in Tokyo.  But I am an old
woman, one with a sworn duty to your grandfather and our ancestors to ensure
that the ancient arts of our clan are continued.  If that means that I have
to pull your out of your comfortable yet inappropriate life, so be it.  If
that means that I have to take you away from your silly girlfriends and
arrange a marriage with a suitable bride, so be it.  If it means that I have
to spend every minute of the rest of my life trying to drill some ounce of
sense into you and your aunt's silly little heads, then I *will* do it,
because that is my meaning to life."

The fact that his grandmother never mentioned any concern about the fact
that *both* of his parents had died in the car accident, not just his
father, was not lost on him.  He always knew that his grandmother and mother
never got along too well; that's why he'd only been down to Kagoshima a
handful of times, nothing more recent than a decade ago.  Until now.
"That's wonderful," he spat, "but my mea-"

"What you think your life's meaning is, grandson, is irrelevant.  I am here
to tell you what it *truly* is.  And like it or not, it is your duty to
comply.  End of discussion."  She grew silent at the end of her words, and
nothing else that he could think of saying would have made a difference.


As they departed the station, they could see the park that spread out before
them, with its "dancing fountains" and clear view down to the bay of
Kagoshima.  To the right was the commercial center of town, while to the
left led the residential areas and his place of confinement.  And looming
before it all, centered in the bay, was Sakura isle, with its ever-active
namesake volcano, Mt. Sakurajima, seated there.  It had erupted several
times and was as active an ash spewer as could be, yet that did not deter
the thousands of people that lived at the base of the earthen cauldron from
calling it home.  As they stepped clear of the station and onto the
sidewalk, despite the rain and grim weather, Rashi's grandmother smiled.
"Ah, it is wonderful to be home again, instead of nightmare capital.  How
the emperor could have ever moved from Kyoto to Tokyo, I'll never
understand.  He should have moved here to Shiroyama castle, instead."

"Maybe he relocated because the purpose of the Meiji Restoration was not to
live in the past?" he muttered under his breath.

"Or maybe," a new voice chimed in, "it was because he wanted to hang out
with the hipster crowds in Edo."  Both turned their heads to find themselves
looking at a beautiful young woman, slightly older than Rashi, by only a
decade or so tops.  Wearing tight jeans and an equally tight midriff that
showed a sculpted body underneath, she looked far too beautiful for this
town and completely out of place.  Without an invitation, she slipped her
arms around his neck and cooed, "Welcome to Kagoshima.  I hope you like what
you see."

Rashi, being a typical male, kept his eyes focused on the girl's sensuous
face, lest looking elsewhere could cause a disaster.  Her short, obviously
dyed tea-colored hair looked alluring and accented her natural green eyes,
giving the woman a vaguely gaijin appearance.  Her face was that of a
playful pixie, an elfin delight that seemed to enjoy in this sensual
torture.  Rashi had never known what the term "bedroom eyes" meant before.
Now it was pretty clear, thanks to this young woman.

((But hey, if a girl her age is paying attention to me,)) he thought, ((this
town can't be entirely that bad.))

"I take it you're new in town," the girl said, looking him up and down
appreciatively.  "Need a girlfriend?  I think I can help you on that score."
The girl leaned over and pecked him softly on the cheek, very close to the
mouth and whispered, "Believe it or not, you're going to like it here.  I'm
going to make *sure* you *do*."

Before Rashi could answer, verbally or otherwise, fate, in the form of his
rather disgusted grandmother, intervened.  Stepping between the two, she
snarled, "If I knew you were going to act that scandalously, I would never
have asked you to meet us at the station.  And can't you act like a proper
woman for once?  You are a doctor, for kamis' sake, and should act in a more
dignified manner."

The girl rolled her eyes, before entering an unofficial staring contest with
the shorter woman.  "Listen, just because you want to ruin my life doesn't
mean I'm going to let you ruin *his*!  I swear, I should never have come
back from the States!"  Breaking off the glance, she looked back at the teen
and said, "C'mon.  We'll leave the old bag to whatever plans she has to
restore the shogunate, and we can continue on with the 21st century without
her."  Cocking her head back slightly, she chirped, "Parking at the station
was full, so I had to park by the park.  Ha!  Funny!"

"You would think something that simplistic is amusing.  Are you actually
sober?"

"For now, yes.  Later, no...and for that matter, he's not going to be
either.  I know he's not of age, but hey, he's going to learn sooner or
later," she answered in haughty and light patter.  "Now, my dear Adonis,
let's get you home, unpack your stuff, and then you and I are going out and
I'm going to show you this place isn't as dullsville as you think it might
be...though I have to admit you have to stretch to make sure it's not."

Rashi grew confused at the sudden change in the woman's demeanor.
"Bu-but-but..." he stammered, searching for words.  Being dragged off to
places unknown by gorgeous women a decade older than he wasn't the norm, he
was certain, and while he might grow to like it eventually (assuming that
was the norm here), at the moment it was all a bit disconcerting.

"Oh, you thought I was going to take you home and...?"  She smiled again,
this time with a conspiratorial grin.  "Well, to be honest, if you were
about my age and had a few less things in common with me, yeah, sure, I'd
give it a whirl, since you have major hunk written all over you.  But for
now, the only way you get to see me naked is only in your dreams...unless we
run into each other in the furo."

The last was said just to mollify the old woman, and it had the intended
effect.  "I brought him here to get him away from that kind of girl...not to
introduce him to something worse!  I want him to meet a real woman, one that
holds true to traditional Japanese values!"

"Well, there are plenty of them still around - if you can get the local
museum to cough up a statue or two as a prospective bride, that is."  Again,
the young woman got a dark stare for her comments, and she felt vindicated.
But even she realized she may have gone too far on that last statement and
sighed in self-defeat.  "Well, I guess I should let you down easy, Romeo.
You probably don't remember me anyway, since you were knee-high to a
grasshopper since the last time we saw each other.  I'm Dr. Ryutsu Soyokaze,
MD and a few other alphabetical letters, but you can call me Breeze -
everyone does.  Oh, that also means I'm your aunt, too, though I can assure
you that's just a very benevolent coincidence."

Rashi did a double take.  This gorgeous creature in front of him was his
aunt?  He vaguely remembered his father's sister, but what he did remember
was a slightly uncomely girl with thick eyeglasses and ropy side-braids
running around in a fuku with a dozen books, which he immediately told her.

His grandmother sighed.  "That was just before I made the mistake of letting
her accept that scholarship to America eight years ago.  I'm afraid that was
the last time she acted like a proper woman."

"Gee, mom, I'm *soooo* sorry I don't run around in kimonos
twenty-four/seven.  Maybe you'd prefer it if I found some nice banker and
settled down to spit out a few babies, but I for one have no intention of
wasting my skills or life.  If someone was willing to give me a six-year
scholarship to the University of Southern California in America, someone
felt I should take it.  So I did."  Blowing off her mother, she turned back
to her perplexed nephew.  "Rashi, living on my own in the States showed me I
didn't have to look like a freak all my life."  Tapping her head, she said,
"Contact lenses do wonders, as does Western foods and memberships to Gold's
Gym.  But more importantly, living overseas taught me that your father was
right to leave, that the old ways my mother espouses aren't the only ways."

"No, they're just the *correct* ways," she interjected.  "And Rashi will
learn them, and so in time will you."

"Over my dead body, old woman!" Breeze countered.  Turning back to Rashi,
she said, "Look, I may as well tell you: she brought you here because you
didn't have a choice and because she believes the heritage of the school is
more important than anything.  But I'm here for a different reason," she
said.  "I'm here for *you*."

"You are?"  The boy's head began to cycle into the confusion zone.  Here a
second ago was this delectable woman deciding to mark her territory, only
for him to find out that she was just gently playing with him.  And now she
was marking her territory again, this time for a different reason?  ((What,
am I real estate?))

"Uh-huh."  Breeze nodded in answer to his spoken question, if not his
thoughts.  "I loved my big brother, your father, and was proud of him for
leaving and striking out on his own.  When your parents died in that car
accident, I was devastated - I wish I could have been there for the funeral,
but my internship tied me up.  But I promised his spirit that I would see to
it that you got the same chances he did, that you would get to excel on your
own."  She shot her mother a nasty look and added, "As much as I love my
mother dearly, she forgets that this is the 2000s, not the 1600s.  So my
point is this: her job is to ensure that you learn the family art and all
that esoteric bullshit.  *My* job is to make sure that I take these summer
months to make sure you learn that shit, then we move back to Cali."

"Huh?"

"Oh no you're not!"  The old woman gave her daughter her most dire glare.
"You may want to call that hellpit home, but I will not stand for my
grandson living amongst the barbarians!"  Looking her daughter up and down,
she tartly added, "Especially with a daughter of mine who dresses like a
modern-day willow woman and whose first action on seeing her nephew is to
act like she's trying to seduce him!"

Breeze bent down and stared at her mother with equal anger.  "Mother, I love
you dearly, but don't fuck with me.  I will not let you turn Rashi into your
personal little whipping boy.  If I have to take you to court, I will.  And
as for how I act, that's none of your concern because I am my own person and
not your little toy.  Plus, Rashi doesn't need a disciplinarian; he needs a
friend and a guide.  And that's why I'm here."

"This is not the time or place to be making a fool of yourself, daughter,"
the old woman announced suddenly, "though I gather you are quite an expert
at it."

"Yes, I apparently learned very well from you, didn't I?"

"Your father would weep and beg his ancestors for forgiveness if he saw the
sort of person you turned out to be!"

"Funny you should mention that, because as I recall, he was the one who was
supportive of me when I went to LA - it was *you*, if I have to remind you,
who was worried about her baby girl being amongst the gaijin!"

"And now my daughter has *become* one - a scandalous, tea-haired vixen no
better than those kogyaru they talk about in the papers!"

"Maybe, but at least I'm *not* a simpering little housewife with no hope for
the future save that the husband I'm enslaved to doesn't have too many
affairs behind my back!  I want to live my life making a difference in this
world, *not* trying to master tea ceremonies!  And if I'm going to marry
someone, it's because of love, not something as outdated as giri! "

Not wanting to listen to their arguments, Rashi inwardly hoped for a
distraction, a sort of way he could get out of the battlezone between mother
and daughter.  As the rain began to dissipate and the visibility cleared
significantly, his eyes drifted to the park across the street, and suddenly
he found what he was looking for, after a fashion.  Dropping his bags, he
blurted, "Excuse me," then bolted across the street as fast as he could.

***

"Damn gaijin!" a burly bazoku snarled, "get out of our town!"  This he
punctuated with a painful strike across another young man's face, sending
his glasses flying along in a slash of blood.  The glasses clattered amongst
the ground, where they bounced once before cracking; the man didn't fare as
well and crumpled to the ground, where he was kicked by another one of the
punks.

"This is our park, and you gotta get permission to use it," the second
furyoshonen sneered.  "Of course, a dumb gaijin like you wouldn't know
that."  The boy delivered a second kick to the man's stomach, knocking the
wind from him and causing him to gasp for air.

"Yeah, maybe a little payment would be nice," a third one spouted.
"Something to the tune of 60000 yen oughta cover it."

>From the ground came a woozy comment:  "This park is free, gentlemen.  It is
for everyone."  For his gentle reminder, he was ungently rewarded with a
kick to the chest.

"Who asked you for a comment?  An' besides, this is our park!  The cops
don't mess with us, and as you can see, there's no one else here, so it's
gotta be ours."  The fact that the rain was likely keeping the park empty as
well also went without saying, not to mention the fact that the part of the
park they were in was relatively obscured on most sides by a ring of trees.
Also the fact that most police sat in their kobans (the nearest one being a
few blocks away and thus out of eyesight) instead of patrolling also worked
in their favor.  "Besides, you have a choice: you can either pay us, or you
can pay for hospital bills!"  To illustrate the gravity of the situation,
the punk produced a length of bicycle chain that he'd apparently had stored
in a pocket for a time that it would see use...and that time would be now.

Or maybe not.  As he raised the chain for striking position, the brute found
himself brutalized, as a blow came so fast he didn't even see it.  Two more
punches to his body, followed by another powerful blow sent him flying
backwards, where he crashed painfully against a tree.  The attack had
happened so speedily, his other two friends hadn't even noticed that they
were under assault.  As he picked himself off the floor, shaking his head
and moaning, "What happened?" his pals realized something was amiss and
turned, thus facing the new entrant.

Standing in front of their would-be victim was a boy about the same age as
them.  With a clean-cut hairstyle and a youthful face (currently marred by
the cast of aggression), he stood before them wearing a Tokyo Giants
baseball jersey and a pair of jeans.  To say that he was standing before
them was also misleading, as he was actually in a slightly stooped stance
that appeared to be some odd cross between being caught in mid-bow and arms
flailing.  Looking at them, he said in a soft voice, "Look, I don't know
what's going on, but I don't like the odds or the fact that he doesn't look
like the type that could last in a fight with you three."

"Go away kid," the first one said, as he reached out from under his jacket
and produced a small baseball bat of the kind given out at sporting events,
"or you'll be joining him on the ground."

The "kid" said nothing, but merely switched stances with a fluid grace that
might have made a professional dancer envious.  One moment he was in a
hunchbacked stance, the next in a leg-raised, one-arm over head and the
other in front that looked reminiscent of a Chinese sword dancer's movements
or Jigenryu, the lesser-known Japanese sword art that was said to have its
origins in this very area.  Looking at them evenly, he said, "I'm ready
whenever you are."

"It's your funeral," the tough said as at one, all three rushed him.  They
had the clear advantage in both numbers and strength, as they looked far
more muscular than he.  Additionally, two out of the three were armed, and
something about the third indicated that he was no stranger to the hand-art
disciplines.

That of course didn't matter much to Rashi.  The minute they all moved into
his sphere of attack, he moved with a grace borne of years of studying the
Ryutsu School of Empty-Handed Arts.  As the first opponent closed, Rashi
leapt into the air, knifing his foe in the side with a precision kick.  He
had enough momentum while airborne that he lashed out with his other leg and
caught the second closest in the head.  As he tumbled earthward, he bent
forward, reaching for the ground and avoiding getting nailed by the fungo
wielded by the first.  The minute he hit the floor, he rolled forward and as
the thugs got their bearing again, so did he, leaping back to his feet
courtesy of a handspring.

The one with the bat was still lumbering in a turn to face Rashi, so it was
almost unfair of the youth to lash out with a elbow strike to the upper
portion of his chest, a pressure point meant to dizzy the thug.  The martial
artist speedily brought up the fist of the same arm to smash the guy in the
face, knocking loose a tooth.  A right jab made for a third hit, and by the
time Rashi delivered a vicious uppercut, the tough was already well on the
road to unconsciousness.

"So you're think you're good, huh, kid?" the one with the chain roared as he
rushed towards Rashi.  "You might have gotten in a few lucky shots, but that
doesn't mean you can brawl worth a damn!"

Rashi said nothing.  As an answer instead, he slid over to where the first
one had dropped the bat, and with a slight foot motion, kicked it up into
the air and spun into a roundhouse kick.  With unnatural speed and precision
of the type that indicated either extreme mastery of the arts or incredible
luck, he nailed it perfectly, turning it into an ad hoc missile.  The bat
lanced forward like an arrow, striking true and nailing the guy straight in
the center of his nose, which turned into a blossom of blood as it broke.
Screaming in pain, he let the chain go, and its momentum carried it toward
his partner, who didn't duck in time as it wrapped around his head until the
weight smashed into the back of his skull, dropping him to his knees.

Rashi grinned; he couldn't have planned that kind of action if he'd
choreographed it.  Wiping a slight sheen of sweat off his brow, he moved
into another defensive posture and said to the last remaining one, "Is it
worth the broken arm?  Take your guys out of here and let them know that if
they pick on anyone again, I'm going to take a personal interest."

The last punk scrambled to his feet and shook his fist in what looked
incredibly comical.  "You're dogmeat, pal.  When me and my buds regroup-"

"You'll have to deal with me again.  Now run off to mommy."  As the three of
them finally and groggily moved to their feet, bodies stained with grass
smudges, mud and blood, they moved slowly from the field, in defiance but
also clearly not to agitate their bruises.  There was a sort of hatred in
their eyes for Rashi, but also present were fear and a healthy respect of
his abilities.  Should they ever cross paths again, there would be no
underestimation of the youth's skills, and no quarter given.  With that and
continually muttering they'd get back at him again, they shuffled out of the
park and into the darkness of the night.


Rashi smiled.  He rarely used his martial arts for anything other than
keeping in shape, but it was a sort of blessing that his father insisted
that he learn, as it would help him to know the dynamics of the human body,
something vital for all artists and something that his father knew well.
Besides, it also helped that it gave Rashi not only a fit body to impress
the girls, but that his father's last manga series, about a teenaged martial
artist, had its lead character almost directly based upon its creator's son.
In any case, though, actual combat sparring was something that he rarely
did, and if he was good enough to beat juvenile delinquents clearly used to
street brawling, then, well, it showed that he was far better at the
family's ages-old style of Jigendo than he thou-

"You were slow on the uplift," his grandmother's voice said behind him
unexpectedly, "and you stalled too long before attacking.  You should not
have given them the advantage.  Additionally, your four-hit combination was
a child's move, something out of a videogame; a true artist would have
struck more definitively; one hit, one drop.  Your stunt with the bat was a
foolish stunt, something that would have cost you if y-"

"And I suppose it didn't matter to you that I just saved someone from
getting pulped?" an incredulous Rashi thundered, partially to cover his
surprise at not hearing her approach.  Granted, it wasn't exactly as though
he was listening for it, but between the wet grass and the relative silence
of a nighttime city park, he should have heard her easily.

"I'm proud of you, if it's any consolation," Breeze commented, already in
doctor mode and at the side of the victim.  Seeming as though she were
speaking to the injured person, she said, "Ooooh, I *told* you to keep out
of trouble!  Only here a week and this shit's already started!"

To Rashi's surprise, the wounded one looked up at Breeze with bleary eyes
and slurred, "Sorry...guess I got into trouble again, huh, Breeze?"  The
fact that the person knew his aunt was surprising enough, but even more so
was the fact that he spoke English.

((American?)) Rashi wondered as he moved to his aunt's side and got a
clearer view of the guy.  ((Ah, Beika-nihonjin,)) the "weird Japanese" also
known as Americans of Japanese Ancestry - AJAs.  He was probably
half-Japanese, a fact clearly expressed in the guy's platinum (almost gray)
blonde hair and formal sort of dress...well, formal for a teen gaijin, Rashi
assumed.  ((Wonder who he is?))  In the interim, Rashi tried to keep up with
the conversation.  His English wasn't the best (and apparently nowhere near
as good as his aunt's), but he did know a lot more than the average Japanese
person, thanks to his parents' insistence that he be a well-rounded soul -
the same well-roundedness that his grandmother was hell-bent to stamp out of
him.

In any event, he ignored his problems and focused back on the scene next to
him.  "Yeah, that you did," Breeze said with a wan smile and a slight case
of tenderness.  "C'mon, let's get back to my mom's place and we'll get you
patched up.  Looks like going out tonight's going to be a wash."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, relax, Clark, I'm not going to bite your head off or anything, though
you owe me a beer out of this.  You're damn well lucky I'm a doctor, you
rock!  What the hell were you thinking?"

"I...."  A pause.  "I wanted to get a look at Sakurajima at night.
It's...."

"Yeah, I know.  You've been there every day for the past week!  I know, I
know."  She sighed.  "Man, I am *not* going to enjoy telling this one to
Melissa..."  She pulled away from her ministrations for a second, and
switched to Japanese.  "I suppose I should introduce you two, since you'll
be sharing a room while we're all here in hell."

"Sharing a room?" Rashi commented dully.  He hadn't expected
that...although, to be honest, five minutes ago he hadn't expect to find
everything that had just come across his path.

"Well, you can't sleep with me, because...hmm, I'll have to come up with an
excuse later," she replied with a saucy wink.  "Anyway, Rashi, this is Clark
Masagasu.  Clark, this is my nephew, Rashi - he's going to be the one
teaching you martial arts while we're here for the summer."

"I'm teaching him...?" Rashi blurted.

"When did I say I wanted to learn martial arts?" Clark spoke aloud, his
throbbing head finally remembering some Japanese.

"Yes, you are.  It will be your first lesson in learning the family trade,"
Rashi�s grandmother spoke.  Then to Clark: "And you have to be the most
pathetic excuse for a young man I've ever seen.  I swear by the kami that
you will learn some sort of defense so you don't have to lie down on the
ground like a mewling coward!"

Breeze sighed with the impatience of having explained one too many times,
rising to Clark's defense apparently yet again.  "You know, I'd explain it
again, but since you're not listening anyway, I'm not going to bother.
C'mon, everyone in the car and we'll continue this discussion at home."  The
woman ran her hand through her hair in exasperation, muttering in English,
"And for this shit I gave up a summer trip to Europe.  Just fucking great."

"I have no idea what you said, Soyokaze," the old woman replied, "but I
heard it and know it's not anything good, coming from you."

"Damn straight," she snarled, then began to herd everyone towards the car.

Rashi looked around at his situation once more as he headed towards the dojo
car, a worn Toyota HiAce that had clearly seen better days.  He'd only been
here in Kagoshima for twenty minutes or so and he'd gotten crushed under the
thumb of his grandmother, befriended (well, sort of) by his wannabe-gaijin
aunt, gotten into a fight with the local gang of punks, and rescued his
apparently poor excuse for a roommate, some henjin kid his age.  With a
final bleak look, Rashi glanced at the JR station as it closed for the
night, then toward the moon, its moonlight framing the silhouette of
Sakurajima.

((Yeah, this isn't Tokyo anymore,)) he sighed.  ((I'm beginning to wonder if
this is still the real world....))

***

Fifteen minutes later, he entered the home of his family, all of it looking
vaguely familiar and far smaller than he remembered (due to his child's
memories of the place).  As they walked in, the phone rang and Breeze, being
the closest, moved for it.

The old woman looked at the clock on the wall, which read 9:17 in the
evening.  "After 8.  Has anyone no respect for decency anymore?"

"Of course they do," Breeze said just before she picked up the phone.
"No-call time starts at ten, old woman."

"Maybe over in America."  The old woman crossed her arms and looked at her
daughter in disgust. "But not in *this* household."

"I'm a doctor. I'm on call 24 a day, whether you like it or not.  Get used
to it."  Finally picking up the phone on the fourth ring, she chirped out,
"Moshi moshi. Ryutsu-ke desu."

"Doctor Ryutsu, I presume?  This is Doctor Matsukaga over on Sakura Isle.
Forgive me, but your mentor, Doctor Inori, gave me this number and
recommended you as the best in your field."

"Well, I'm okay," Breeze said, "but I'm not that experienced, and I just
barely finished my internship.  Additionally, I'm on vacation at the moment,
and I don't have a license to practice in Japan - I have California
certification."

"Yes, I was told that, and I truly wish not to disturb your vacation time -
I remember my internship - but Inori said you were the best for the job, and
the situation here is out of my specialty.  I also talked to the local board
and considering the situation they're willing to overlook it for the time
being.  In any case, I would not go to this trouble if the situation was not
so dire."

"Well, I could use the practice to keep me up to date on local methodology
in contrast to American methods.  What's the situation?"  Slipping back into
doctor mode, she reached over and grabbed the pad and pen, whispering a
silent, "Clark, show Rashi to your guys' room, and I'll be up there later to
talk to you two."  She did not bother to say goodnight to her mother as she
focused on the task at hand.

"I have a young woman under my care, age 14, been my patient for years.  For
most of her life, she's had several conditions that have prevented her from
normal mobility.  But as she's entered puberty in the past few years, all of
her situations have gone into remission, and she's become strong enough that
she's able to move around much more; we managed to get her out of a
wheelchair on a regular basis only a couple of weeks ago.  But she needs
strength training for muscle development, and with your family's background,
combined with your skills, Doctor, could help the girl.  And her family is
willing to pay you."

Breeze nodded as she held the phone but said, "Naah, it's on me.  I don't
have certification here, so I'm going to have to fly under the radar for
this one.  But I appreciate it nonetheless.  Where shall I meet you so we
can discuss this?"

"Would it be possible to have the girl and her mother come to you?  She goes
to school on the mainland and it would be easy enough for them to head over
to your home after hours.  But I'll give you some advance notice: the girl's
mother can be a bit...um, explosive.  For her age, she's surprisingly into
the old ways and can be a trial to deal with.  I much prefer to relate with
her father, as he seems more down to earth, but as I understand it, he's
often out of town so the mother usually has the duties in caring for the
girl.  Of course, as their doctor I'll be present as well."

"Okay, so about 4 in the afternoon, then?"  When Inori agreed, she took down
a few more notes and asked him to have copies of his files sent to her.  As
she ended the conversation, she thought momentarily about how she seemed to
be handling a bigger load than she intended.  But then again, she mentally
added, if a bookish mouse of a girl hadn't the nerve to step up to her
domineering mother and say she was going to take that scholarship in
America, I wouldn't be here to take medical notes and give help to a girl
that needs it.  The ends justified the means in this case, and as she headed
to the fridge for a beer, she realized that it would be to her best if the
bookworm of a girl inside the hardbodied babe of a doctor continued to fight
for what she believed in.  After all, the martial arts were what her family
did best, right?

***

In their shared room, a place that Rashi recalled as being his father's old
room, the two boys took turns glancing at each other while attending to
their individual tasks.  Clark glanced nervously at Rashi as the taller and
better-built boy put his clothing into a drawer, while Rashi gave the other
guy an appraising look as Clark bandaged his wounds (from the size of the
first aid kit the kid had on hand, he was no stranger to injury) and took
out a newer, undamaged pair of glasses.  Rashi noted the American was as
thin as a rail; no muscles or anything like that, almost a basketball
player's build, while Clark's estimate of Rashi's build was that he thought
he was in some kind of anime where martial arts could get you out of
anything.

Finally, both of them decided to break their silence.  At the same time,
both turned to each other in the uncomfortable silence of the room and said,
"Look...."  Realizing the other was about to speak, both then said, "Um, you
go first," and realizing they'd interrupted each other again, both countered
with, "I'm sure your story's more interesting than mine, so you go first."
When on this third try they still clashed with each other verbally, they
both settled down back into the oppressive quiet, uneasy with the stillness
but not knowing exactly how to break it.


Fortunately, that was Breeze's cue.  Bursting into the room with three beers
in hand, she tossed two of them to the boys, saying, "Drink up, guys.
Asahi's finest, you know, though I have to admit I much prefer MGD."

Rashi held the thing as though it was an alien artifact, while Clark opened
it up and drank from it slowly.  Looking back at Breeze, he started, "Aunt
Soyokaz-"

He never finished his sentence.  Half chugging the can, she held up a
finger, wagging in disapproval.  "Breeze," she corrected as she finished her
drink.  "You're going to make me an obatarian if you say it the other way,
and I'm not that much older than you.  'Sides, we already know I'm your aunt
so we don't have to go into detail; and in any event, 'Breeze' is hipper
than 'Soyokaze'."

Clark smiled.  "You only got that nick 'cause Gabrielle had a hard time
saying your name."

Breeze winked as she plopped onto the bed in the room, facing the two boys.
"Point.  Regardless, none of this is about me; it's about you two.  The fact
is, for the next two months, you're going to be helping each other out.  You
two need each other and I guarantee by the end of this, you're gonna to be
the best of friends.  Really."

Breeze looked first at Clark.  "Rashi's going to need help with his English.
We've got three months to improve it, and with those braincells of yours,
you've got to get him up to speed on all things, as the French say, 'Le
Americain'.  On the week before school starts for you, I want all three of
us on that plane, even if it means I have to start up one hell of a lawsuit
to get him out there.  If I don't do something, my mom's going to turn him
into her personal 'turn back the clock' experiment, and I made a personal
vow not to allow that to happen."

She then turned to Rashi.  "Okay, Clark is your project, Rashi.  Frankly,
and though I love the guy dearly like a little brother, he's...well, he's a
pussy."

"Hey!" Clark snarled.  "It's not as though-"

*"Shut the hell up and let me finish!"* she roared unexpectedly, fixing him
with a penetrating stare; to Rashi's surprise, Clark backed down instantly
without a word.  "See?" she said as soon as the picosecond-long staring
contest was over.  "Clark's sister Gabrielle is my best friend back in the
States; I stayed with them during my first couple of years at USC.  In any
case, Clark's got a few problems, ones that he'd admit to if he wasn't so
embarrassed about the fact that he's spineless."  She flashed him a
well-meaning smile to take the sting out of her words before continuing.
"The problem is that both of his parents died years and years back, and he
ended up being raised by his oldest sister Melissa.  However, being raised
as the youngest and only boy in a house full of three girls doesn't do
wonders for the masculinity, or so I'm told at least not in his case."

"So you want me to teach him...lemme see if I get this straight...how to act
like a guy?"

"For a start."  She nodded.  "Melissa admits it was a mistake to have him
grow up without a male role model, it's made them sorta into their personal
guinea pig experiment.  Clark is a brilliant guy, don't get me wrong, but
the fact is, as you can tell, he dresses like he's a decade older than me
and he gets picked on a lot."

"I believe the insult you're looking for is 'geek'," Clark seethed.

"Thanks," Breeze replied without even realizing that he was getting pissed.
"As you can also see, he's a bit of a band-aid magnet; he gets his ass
kicked more times than any other person I know.  He makes up for it with the
smarts, but not everyone in the world values a person who isn't a
dain-bramaged idiot, an-"  She cut herself off instantly when she realized
she was unintentionally making Clark to look completely hopeless.  Shrugging
in slight embarrassment, she took a different tack.

"Anyway, when they found out I was coming back to Kagoshima for the summer -
a major reason why they took me in - they insisted that I take Clark with
me.  Not just because my family knows martial arts, which is the first
reason why he came, as Melissa and Gabrielle hoped that I can teach him some
basic self defense, so he doesn't get used as a human pushbroom on a regular
basis-"

"Okay, okay, I'll take over the rest before you turn my reputation into a
bottomless pit," he answered.  "No matter what, I *had* to come.  Maybe it
doesn't bother my sisters as much, but...."  Clark slipped into an
uncomfortable silence, the sort that said what he was about to say wasn't
going to come easily.  Surprisingly, both allowed him to remain silent for
the duration before he spoke again, his voice a barely audible whisper.  "I
needed to see the place where my world began."

"I didn't know you were born here.  Thought you were born in LA," Breeze
noted.

"I was.  I mean, everything I am is because of this place."  Another pause,
followed by another sip of the beer, then the soft inflections came once
again.  "My father was a photographer for _National Geographic_ and was on
assignment here when Sakurajima erupted back in '84."

"I remember that," Breeze said, remembering back to that time.  "The volcano
blew and blew hard.  Sent a few lava bombs as far as here, across the bay.
Few people survived on the east side of the volcano, where the flow was the
worst an...."  Her voice trailed off as she suddenly put two and two
together.  "Oh man, I never knew, and none of your sisters ever said a
thing.  God, I'm so sorry."

Clark smiled weakly, taking the comment in stride.  "I never knew my father,
as he died before I was born.  Unfortunately, someone had to tell his
pregnant wife, and she never recovered from the blow.  She died in
childbirth, bringing me into this world being her final act.  It was a good
thing that Melissa was already legally an adult at 20 when it happened, or
we'd all have been screwed; as it was, she had to juggle college and raising
her three youngest sibs, including me, the newborn and Sarah, the toddler.

"God knows I love Melissa dearly; she's both sister and mother to me.  But I
feel as though part of me needs to be part of that mountain.  I've poured so
much of my soul into learning geology and geography and everything I could
get my hands on at my age all in the hopes of coming here and-"  Clark's
voice rose to a higher pitch, the whole of his being taken up by the passion
that stirred within him.  If there had been something that had been the
point of his life, this then was it, the volcano in a very real sense being
the only thing that the young man had to live for in this world.  "I just
needed to see the place that killed my parents and made me who I am."

An empty silence sank over the room as the three mused about what to say
next.  "Well," Breeze finally uttered as she stepped up from the bed, "I'm
going to have to break out those books I hadn't planned on as well as do
some surfing tonight.  Going to be a long day for all of us, guys, so maybe
we should all think about calling it a night."  She gave both guys a smile
and said, "Oh, and if either of you should have any neat dreams about me,
I'd appreciate letting me know."  Giggling softly, she closed the door and
left the room.

Clark sighed, then turned to Rashi.  "Man, Breeze is a babe!  Sometimes I
just wish that she didn't see me like a little brother; it might nice to
have her as a girlfriend or something.  Then again, I'd never get that lucky
and she's too old for me anyway.  Hey, what about you?  Any girls in your
life?"

Rashi merely unrolled the futon in the corner and prepared to go to bed.
However, involuntarily he whispered, "Miki...." and that was all the answer
that Clark needed to know.  Chiding himself for getting personal in a
clearly painful situation, he resolved to shut up and not say anything for
the nonce.  As Clark also prepared for bed, both boys wondered how Breeze's
prediction would ever come to pass - it was just too big a challenge, more
than anyone could handle.

***

That night, Rashi dreamed.

He was standing in a field, something that looked a lot like the plains down
by the five lakes near Fujiyama.  Although it was bright and sunny, there
was the impression that there was nothing alive there, nothing that would
remotely remain intact.  No butterflies stirred, no foxes patrolled their
territories, no birds soared overhead.  Save for the plant life, there was
nothing here save for him and the vista before him.

And Miki.

He heard her voice from behind, but it was sad, so infinitely sad.  He
turned to face her, and saw that she was crying; it stung him a little to
see those tears trailing down her cheeks.  Her warm brown eyes, usually
filled with joy and tenderness, may as well as been as cool as the arctic at
this point.  There was also the fact that she wasn't looking directly at
him, but slightly away, as though she was turning away from him.

He reached out for her, but she put a hand out to stop.  "Miki-chan," he
asked, puzzled, "what's wrong?"

Without even facing him, she turned and walked away from him, towards the
distance.  Over the breeze, her voice could be heard, a mournful dirge that
carried the tune of a thousand hearts breaking in symphony.  "I love you, my
Rashi-kun, I love you with all my heart.  But you don't belong to me
anymore.  You belong to them."  She took two more steps before inexplicable
disappearing into nothingness.

"Belong to them?  Who's the-"  Suddenly, twin slender arms snuck around him,
pulling him away from her.  He also felt some...weird...bumps on his back,
and when he turned around he was faced with the most romantic kiss he'd ever
felt in his life - no way could Miki ever be that sensuous.  As his hormones
flared, he backed away from the kisser before he lost control and was
horrified to find that the person in question was none other than Breeze!

Dressed in a skimpy negligee that left nothing to the imagination, Breeze
leaned against him and sighed.  "Rashi-chaaaaan," she said seductively,
"tonight I'm going to free you, sweetie.  From everything.  Tonight I'm
going to make you a man."

Rashi immediately blanched, moving away from her as though she were living
acid.  "Breeze, are you crazy!  You're my aunt, for crying out loud!"

The vixen moved a solitary finger up to her lips and gently put it between
her teeth in a gesture of...something Rashi didn't to think about.  As soon
as she was done, she moved her hands up and down her body suggestively,
breathing, "And you're going to let something that minor get in the way of
everything, Rashi?  I'm shocked...and let me tell you, it makes me feel
soooooooooooooo frisky," she purred.  "But, I'm going to clean your pipes,
because after I'm done making you into a man," she stopped raising her hand
to point at a direction in a darkness that suddenly descended without
warning, "I need you to make him one."

With the shattering of a bell, Breeze disappeared in the darkness, as
Rashi's eyes followed the direction that she'd pointed in, to come across a
more bizarre and Byzantine vision that he'd expected.  There, in a sphere of
light, dressed in a young girl's Victorian-lace-and-velvet dress, complete
with Goldilocks curls in the hair, was Clark, playing with a stuffed rag
doll and looking completely rapt in his attention.  After a couple of
seconds, he turned and looked at Rashi with sincere intent, then smiled with
the glee that only a little girl could, an action that made the teen feel
all the more spooked the shit out.

Clark opened his mouth...

....and spoke with the voice of a girl just barely starting life, a child
never knowing that the great upheavals of life known as adulthood lay so
damn close to the horizon, a high, seraphic voice that should, under no
circumstances, come from a boy in his mid-teens.  "Hey!  Will you be my
friend?  I like you.  Wanna play tea party?"

Rashi's mind decided that enough was too much at this point, and he began to
pray that he would have some way of shutting out the madness, whether it was
from waking up or even having a fatal brain aneurysm that would prevent him
from ever coming to.  Anything, just anything to keep the demented
procession of fools and freaks from tearing into his life, into his soul,
into the deepest depths of any- and everything that had ever made him what
his was, what he would be and what he would never be again.

*"NO!"* a new voice tore over the landscape, one strong enough to instantly
cause all of the worlds, all of his realities to shake and crumple like so
many bits and pieces of ephemeral dust.  *"HE IS MINE TO SHAPE, MINE TO
MOLD, AND AS I STAND HERE AGELESS AND POWERFUL, NONE OF YOU SHALL EVER HAVE
DOMINION OVER HIM!"*  The young man turned around again, fearing the worst,
dreading something more horrific and nightmarish than anything that Shigeru,
King, Poe, Dante, or any of a billion names he could utter could ever
conjure up.  Knowing that his time and fractured reality was at an end, he
turned around and faced his demon, the one that held him in chains of
servitude that inexplicably yet naturally belonged there.  The one that, in
the end, was beginning to drill into him, as the old clich� went, allowed to
run, but could not ever hide, that resistance was futile and assimilation
was inevitable.

The demon of demons, the woman so damned to hell a billion-and-one times
that the devils feared that she would take over the dark realms itself and
begin a conquest of all there was and would be.  The creature stood there
atop a massive volcano, too far to remotely even begin to measure, the face
of the burning mountain contorting and twisting with the face of his demon's
sermon of the damned.   Rashi's personal damnation.

Rashi's worst demon.

His grandmother.

*"I OWN YOU!  THE ART OWNS US ALL!  WE GIVE ALL FOR THE ART, OUR LIVES, OUR
SANITY, OUR SELF-RESPECT, ALL FOR HONOR THAT WILL BE FORGOTTEN WITHIN A
SPLAT OF YEARS!  THAT IS FOR WHAT WE LIVE FOR, FOR WHAT WE STRIVE, AND I
SWEAR ON MY GRAVE AND THOSE WHO HAVE FOLLOWED MY PATH, YOU WILL EITHER JOIN
US OR JOIN YOUR PARENTS!"*  The demon grandmother smiled once and
transformed into a massive onibi, one that launched at Rashi and began to
tear him apart in burning bits of hellfire and demonic demands and
condemnations.

Roasting alive by soul, if not flesh, Rashi screamed against everyone and no
one!  ((I am nobody's toy!  I am nobody's pawn!  I want my life, and none of
you can tell me what I, what *I*, want!))

*"YES, I CAN!"* the demon answered with a voice that shattered steel.
*"YES, I WILL!"*

-no, they can't.-

"Who said that?" Rashi said, stunned to suddenly discover that he was no
longer burning away at the core, and that instead of being immersed in
darkness or in the scalding, acidic pits of hell, he found himself in a room
that was nothing but the soft color of sakura petals, that delicate
pinkish-white that seemed to hold all of Japan rapt for one month out of the
year, a grand performance to be held once a year.  Every so often, he could
somehow see tears in the space of this reality, soft red lines of
alphanumerics racing across the surface of creation as though it were one
great computer model.

-I did,- the voice said, by way of apology.  Oddly enough, although he
"heard" the words rather than sensed them in his mind, he was willing to
take strange suggestions into account, as well as the fact that there was no
sound at all accompanying this new speech.  None in the least.  -I hope you
didn't mind me moving you,- the voice said, continuing.  -Although there
were forces at work willing to protect you, they're already in enough
troubles as it is!-

"Well, thank you, whoever you are," Rashi said, still not willing to accept
the situation.  Though he'd heard of some pretty weird situations before, he
was pretty sure no one he knew ever had something like this happen...if any
of it was real, anyway.

Strange, the "voice" somehow seemed to smile.  -You're very welcome.  Now,
if you'll excuse me, I have some other things I have to attend to.  Take
care of yourself, you're the only you you have...or something like that.-
The sakura room flashed once...

***

...and Rashi sat up in the darkened room, sweating rivers, heart racing and
feeling like a man who'd barely escaped a burning building before it crashed
down to the ground upon him.  Looking around the room to see if it was still
real, it took the eternity of seconds for him to calm down enough to know
that it was a nightmare, some dark phantom of his imagination that had vexed
him so.  Either that or the beer.

"Just a dream," he said, looking at his empty hands, then glancing at Clark,
crashed out on the bed not too far away.  Closing one into a fist, he
murmured, "Hell of a way to spend my first night here," then rolled over and
tried to get back to sleep, hoping for better dreams for the rest of the
evening.

***

Sitting on the beach, staring at the distant shore, a girl smiled softly, as
though she'd been watching the stars for hours, even still at this late time
of night.  It felt good to do this, it felt as though she were reaching out
to a birthright that she had, a part of her that-

"Ahem."  The girl turned around and stared into the eyes of a man, looking
straight at her.  "Dear, I thought that you had to be at school tomorrow?"

"Papa!" the girl squealed, happy to see him, even though she knew she was
going to get in trouble for staying out so late.  She put her arms around
him, burying his face in a blizzard of kisses.

"You know, I could ground you for staying out so late," he said, "but I
think I'll join you sitting out here.  Just don't fall asleep at school, ne?
You know how angry your mother gets when you get in trouble at school."

"I think Mother's always angry," the girl said sadly.  "Sometimes I wonder
if...."

"Don't wonder, himechan.  Both your mother and I love you and want the best
for you; we just don't always agree on what that is.  But you'll do fine,
I'm sure.  Besides, tomorrow is your big day, and I wish I could be here for
that, but my job keeps me busy.  But when I get back, you and I can go
somewhere and do something."  The girl smiled brightly when he said that;
she was definitely Daddy's Girl.  "So, what keeps you out here tonight,
other than the beautiful view?" he asked.

The girl smiled softly.  "You'll laugh, Papa, but would you believe that I
woke up, hearing someone screaming for help?  So...I helped.  I'm not sure
how.  I really can't explain.  But right now," she said, leaning against him
for strength and warmth, "I feel like I helped.  And I feel like I can do
anything."

The man held his daughter close to him, saying, "I'm sure you did, sweetie,
and I'm glad for that.  You're always so gentle in your nature, I wonder
sometimes how your mother ever thinks you're going to be able to take over
for her someday."

"I don't want to," the girl said, as though revealing the ultimate secret of
secrets to a trusted confidante.  "I don't want to take mother's job when I
grow up.  I have different plans, ones that I don't think she'll
understand."

"Have you talked to her about it?" the man asked.  When he was met with
since for a few, he got his answer.  "I understand.  Hopefully, someday your
mother will."

Nothing more to say, the pair continued to sit on the moonlit beach, staring
at the stars and the waves, taking in a view of peace that was not long to
last before the breaking of the dawn and a new day, bringing with it new
horizons and the promise of tomorrow.


"There you two are."  A voice with the sort of tone that could command the
very emperor himself, uttered from behind the pair.  "Anata, what are you
allowing her to be out at this hour for?  She has school to attend.  After
all, it was *your* idea that she should do so."

The man turned to face that imperious person, with a smile on his face.
"Kazansei, my dearest wife, Jazu and I are simply sitting here and enjoying
the stars, enjoying life for what it is.  Certainly you remember when we
used to do that?"

The look in the woman's eyes softened, but only for a second.  "Yes, but
nevertheless, I have duties nowadays that prevent me from enjoying such
frivolities, as do you.  And our daughter needs some rest.  She's frail, and
the night air cannot be doing her any good.  Besides, after school tomorrow
I am taking her to see that physical therapist that Dr. Inori recommended."
She mentioned the doctor's name in a manner that implied she barely trusted
the man, that he was a quack amongst the quacks.  Addressing her daughter,
she said, "So it's off to bed for you, daughter mine, and ensure that you
get up in the morning on time."

The girl, Jazu, looked at into her mother's burning eyes, then into her
father's cool, calm eyes.  Her father merely hugged her again and said, "Go
ahead, himechan.  I'll have a talk with your mother.  Don't worry."  She
flashed him a smile, then it disappeared as she looked at her mother.  Not a
word more to say, she slowly and unsteadily moved to stand up, her legs
wobbling all the while.  After what seemed to her like a lifetime, she
managed to straighten herself out completely, whispering thanks to her
father as he handed her the cane she used for steadiness.  Looking at her
mother once more with even eyes, she took one unsteady step after another up
the path back to their home.  About three meters away from her parents, the
girl tripped and fell, landing in an ungainly faceplant that would have
looked comical in an anime but all too painful in real life.

The girl's father made to stand up and help her, but her mother held him
aside.  "Don't bother.  She will learn herself."  She could see rare steel
in her husband's eyes, but turned back on them and said softly, "she needs
to learn strength.  After all, it is your fault that she is so sickly.  The
diseases that she had ran, I believe the term you used was, 'in your
family'?"

"You don't need to rub it in," he said, his displeasure with his wife
rising.  "And you don't need to treat our daughter like she's anathema."

"Nor do you need to coddle her.  She has a destiny that she must live up to,
and the only way she will is if she learns how to take a hold of it.  Part
of that is learning - both literally and figuratively - how to stand on her
own two feet, otherwise she will be taken advantage of and made fun of all
her life and will never grow into the role of her family duty, a position
that she *must* assume!"

"Did it ever occur to you that she doesn't want that duty, Kazansei?"

The woman crossed her arms.  "It is irrelevant what she wants.  The position
has been in my family for ages, and she is the only daughter I have - only
she can fill it.  Unless," she said softly, "you wish to free her from her
position with another child, my love?"

"No," he said, moving his arm down in an arc that seemed like slicing the
air.  "You have children out of love, Kazansei.  I would love to have more
children with you, believe me.  But I will not - repeat, *not* - have
another girl with you just so she can be a slave to giri!"

***

>From a slight distance away, Jazu could see her parents arguing again.  It
was always the same, and it was the only time they disagreed.  Her parents,
two people who loved each other so very much, couldn't see eye to eye when
it came to the future of their only child, so much so that even the way they
perceived raising her brought about some stark and noticeable differences.
Ironically and much to the chagrin of the children who teased her at school,
it was due to her "feminine" father and "lordly" mother that she took grief
from her fellow students.  As if a life in a wheelchair (until recently) had
been humiliating and depressing enough; now that she was free to go out and
have friends, the truth became clear: she had none.

It didn't matter that her father stayed at home at lot and did all the
traditionally wifely duties - housecleaning, laundry, and so forth - due to
his research on vulcanology when one had a perfect example right there.  Nor
did it help that her mother's pedigree, the latest caretaker in a line
stretching back forever, caused her to be so damn imperious about her work,
foisting it on her only child because the duty always fell to a woman and
Jazu was all there was.

But in that sentence meant that there would be no freedom for Jazu, no
desire to do what she really wanted to do.  Yes, her father's genes had
given her the frailties that plagued her childhood, but it also gave her a
new dimension, that of the desire to go out and do what she wanted to do for
a living.  It was her one greatest wish, a wish that if her mother had
anything to say, would never pass.

Tears rolling down her cheeks, the young girl hobbled up the path towards
her home, the salt of her tears stinging her eyes as she wept.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's (Blue) Note

I love bossa nova.  Always have, always will.  The smooth, Brazilian-based
cousin to Latin Jazz and partial inspiration to the Shibuya-kei genre of
JPop, it's always been a beautiful music to get into.  From such artists as
Duke Pearson to Miles Davis to the Kyoto Jazz Massive to the Gilberto
family, it provides me with a different view of musical horizons than the
usual JPop, rock, and electronica that I listen to (yes, although I do admit
that my tastes in music run the gamut, it is these four groupings that I
tend to listen to most) and though I don't speak more than a couple of words
of Portuguese (and only that because I lived in Spain for three years), the
melodies are comforting and pleasant to the ears.

I've always used music as an inspiration for my works.  More so, ironically,
than anime; I find that the horizons are broader in music, if only because
it's a far older medium than animation.  But I've never done anything with
the idea of Bossa Nova until now (some of you familiar with my works, have
no doubt seen the influence of electronica, rock and JPop in some of my
other works).  With the recent idea of using classic anime archetypes
(you'll be able to spot them easily; if not, feel free to ask), it gave me a
chance to work with the idea.  And what better town to use for this than
Kagoshima, one of the (and I'm not kidding) great untold havens of jazz in
Japan?

A resort town that has seen better days, Kagoshima is host to several of the
best jazz clubs that I've been to (in fact, the name of this series comes
from the bar of the same name, a place where I first heard the tunes of the
late, great Duke Pearson back in 97).  It's a beautiful town, and if you
ever get the chance to be on Kyushu (especially those of you who may be
military and get stationed in Sasebo), I recommend getting to the town for a
weekend getaway.  You won't regret it.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.  This series is, as I said, to take
the typical anime archetypes and do something new with them.  It's also an
opportunity to see if I can keep the attention of people for a regular basis
regarding an original series (once in a whiles like the _Hikage_ stories are
nice, but this is a real challenge).  I hope you'll stick around for the
next chapter, and the rest of them.

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