chapter three

eastbound & down

SANNOH , JAPAN

My flight from Toronto to Tokyo was eleven hours of pure hell.

I was sandwiched between a young mother and her sobbing baby and a middle aged white guy who snored to loudly. My flight from Tokyo to the S.W.O.R.D District was even worse: the tiny passenger plane looked so rickety that at any second I thought I'd be screaming mayday and seeing my stepfather again in the afterlife.

I was shaking on my feet by the time I got off that second plane in White Rascals territory, in a private airfield behind a condo high-rise. I was paler than normal and thought I was about to be sick as I bought an apple juice from a dopey looking pilot with his bright green hair piled on top of his head in a towering beehive-like bun.

I caught a cab outside some place called Club Heaven, a nightclub that never seemed to close, Japanese dance music vibrating through the white marble walls. I was eager to get away from the chaos offered by the W District, but it still didn't solve my ever-pressing question of where I was going to stay while I was in the S.W.O.R.D District.

I wasn't even sure how long I'd be in the country, and was hoping to score a cheap room in a hostel or something, sorta a-la 'Strangers From Hell', but without the psychotic neighbors. Mind you, I was still only on episode two.

Sannoh seemed like it was, perhaps, the calmest area of the S.W.O.R.D District. The quiet streets and food stands reminded me of the small marketplace I used to go to with Yuki in New Mexico.

It felt like home. Something familiar.

I thanked the driver, handing him a handful of yen to cover my fare as I readjusted my corduroy bucket hat and grabbed my suitcase from the trunk, consulting the small folding map of Sannoh that I'd picked up at the private airfield, only one destination in mind.

The Itokan Diner. Tatsuya and Naomi's family diner.

I had no idea what I was hoping to find there, but I figured there had to be at least one person willing to talk to me about my stepfather.

And a stable internet connection so I could console my mother and tell her that I had landed safely in the S.W.O.R.D District.

Itokan was a homely place, and somewhere hard to miss. The entire street outside the modest building was packed with motorcycles, a welcome sight as I recalled a time when Yuki and I had gone on a motorcycle trip out of state, heading off to Texas. It was before we had both gotten sober, and Yuki had roped himself into one hell of a bar fight, leaving with a brand new cowboy hat and a broken nose, as well as a misdemeanor assault charge that cost us seventy-five bucks in fines.

My mother made him sleep on the couch for two days before he realized that the drinking just wasn't working for him anymore.

Of course, it wasn't working for me either, but my stubbornness was the one quality I picked up from my real father, a sweet-talking drifter with what my mom called 'the eyes of a devil' from Oklahoma who was simply passing through when he met my mom at a Nickelback concert, back when her hair was dyed a blinding red and her jeans had more holes than Swiss cheese.

The bell chimed overhead as I walked into the diner, taking the sights in.

At a table in the corner, two kids no older than eighteen were joking around with each other, chucking small popcorn kernels across the table. A TV on the far wall was broadcasting a picture of a pale girl with soft features, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in tumbling curls. The tattoos on her arms were unmissable. I didn't know much about organized Asian gangs, but I knew enough to know that her tattoos were yakuza.

"The search continues today for twenty-seven year old Himari Iemura, heiress to the Iemura Corporation." The newscaster said, my brain racing to translate. "Her disappearance comes just two weeks before her wedding to Yuu Kamizono, heir to Kamizono Holdings, his father's business, which the Kamizono patriarch started in the late nineties."

"She'll stay missing if she knows what's good for her." A long-haired girl behind the bar muttered, wiping her hands on her long orange skirt. "Who knows what Kuryu will do to her when they find her."

"I don't know." An odd-looking guy sitting at the bar hummed. "She's yakuza, just like they are. She could be working for them."

The girl shook her head, and I had to resist the urge to listen to the Sannoh gossip, especially if it was about a yakuza heiress. "She doesn't look like the type. Her marriage was probably arranged by Kuryu."

I tucked my seafoam-green suitcase under the table in an empty booth, looking around at the American-style interior. It reminded me a lot of some out of the way, dive bar-esque places around Albuquerque.

Along the long table running the length of the bar, a group of guys were talking and laughing. The center of attention seemed to be a taller, olive-skinned boy with dreadlocks down past his shoulders. The only one who didn't seem to be enjoying himself was a blond in a striped shirt, who only cracked a small smile.

I walked over to the bar, ordering a French vanilla coffee. The guy who was sitting next to me widened his eyes, as if he was surprised at how good my Japanese was. I thanked the barista, taking the small white coffee cup and walking over to a corkboard on the wall, which was showcasing Polaroid pictures taken in the diner over periods of time, many showing pictures of the Mugen Racing Team throughout the years. I resisted the urge to reach into my pocket and pull out the empty lighter and run my chipped nails over the engraving.

"Hey." One of the guys at the long table said, nudging the blonde softly. "She's looking at all the old Mugen stuff."

"Leave her be." The blond answered calmly. "I see no reason to interfere. She's just a tourist."

"A tourist?" The youngest of the group raised an eyebrow. "Who would pick S.W.O.R.D as a tourist destination?"

I tuned the group out, placing my coffee on a small table as I reached for a Polaroid half hidden behind a poster for a group calling themselves 'The Recorder Brothers', whatever that was about. I could see Tsukomo's face peeking out from the image, albiet years younger. The date stamp in the corner dated the picture 1997. Just before Yuki left for America. I pulled the picture gently off the board, looking at the four young men, the earliest incarnation of Mugen with their arms around each other, smiles on their faces.

"Yuki." I whispered, a single tear threatening to fall.

"Can I help you?" A girl asked, drying her hands on her apron. "You look lost."

I looked up from the Polariod, my eyes widening as I tried to remember where I had seen the brunette before, her face buried in the far reaches of my memory.

And then I remembered. Mom and Yuki's wedding.

"Naomi Tatsuya." I whispered. "You might not remember me, we met a long time ago, in New Mexico."

Her eyes widened. "Gilly Wagner?"

I nodded. "Yeah, damn. Time flies by, especially when you live an eleven hour plane ride away

At this revelation, two of the guys at the long table stood up, primed to introduce themselves.

"Are you a friend of Naomi's?" The blond asked, his eyes drifting to the Polaroid image in my hand.

"I guess you could say that." I held out the picture, pointing at Yuki. "Yuki Morizono was my stepfather. He was a part of the Mugen Racing Team with Tatsuya. I haven't seen Naomi since Yuki and my mother got married in New Mexico."

The blond's eyes widened, and he shot the broader one a look. "I'm Cobra, formerly of the Mugen Racing Team. Now I'm the leader of Sannoh Rengokai."

"Gillian Wagner-Morizono." I said, reaching out to shake his hand "I'm sorry, I'm sure this all sounds really strange."

"No issue. Come join us." The other guy said, also shaking my hand. "Yamato Asahina."

As I grabbed my coffee and moved to sit with the group- who I later learned were the six core members of Sannoh Rengokai, one of the five major S.W.O.R.D powers- Yamato introduced them all. There was a dorky looking guy in a black hoodie who's name was Noboru, the strange-looking guy by the bar, Dan Kazuya, the boy with the dreadlocks, Tetsu and the baby of the group, a nineteen-year-old named Chiharu. They all seemed very surprised to see me.

"We're supposed to believe her?" Dan said, wide eyed. "I've heard about these American con-artists, what if she's working with Kuryu?"

"Not a scam." I said curtly, reaching into my backpack "And also not American. I'm originally from New Mexico, but I've been living in Canada for the last two and a half years while Yuki underwent a cancer treatment at Mount Sinai hospital."

The two former Mugen members nodded.

"I only met him once." Yamato said "But he seemed like a good man. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." I said, flipping through my photo journal to a page with an origami dinosaur made out of the lining of a fry basket from a dive bar in Oklahoma on our last motorcycle trip. In the center of the page was a picture of me and Yuki posing in front of the dive-bar's retro sixties-themed sign. "We took this picture about three months before his initial diagnosis. Before everything changed."

"How is your Japanese so good?" Chiharu questioned. "You're-"

"I'm white." I cut him off. "I know. Japanese school was the most awkward experience of my life, but Yuki taught me well. I can write Kanji and Hiragana, but my Kanji is better. Any other questions about my authenticity?"

Chiharu shook his head, reaching for his glass as Cobra studied my scrapbook page, Tetsu and Dan peering over his shoulder.

"Did ever talk much about Sannoh?" Yamato asked "About Mugen? His involvement was way before our time, but Kohaku and Tsukomo always had good stories about Yuki."

I smiled, tucking the journal back into my backpack before pulling out the Mugen jacket. "I'd like to hear some of them." I unfolded the jacket, laying it across the table. Cobra and Yamato's eyes widened, and even Dan's expression changed. "How's this for authentic?"

"That's pretty damn authentic." Cobra said quietly, running his pale fingers over the embroidered snakes on the back patch.

"I also found this when I was clearing out his things." I said, reaching for the cigar box. "There were letters inside, from Tatsuya." A few eyes seemed to widen when I spoke his name. "One day, they just stopped abruptly, and I'm not sure why."

Naomi swallowed a lump in her throat. "Can I see the letters?" Her voice sounded strange

"Yeah, of course." I said, pulling them out of the box and passing the stack to her. Yamato and Cobra seemed interested as well, peering over Naomi's shoulder as she opened the first letter.

"Is Tatsuya here?" I asked. "My dad, he never talked about Sannoh. I was hoping I could talk to Tatsuya, maybe get some answers."

"That's not going to be possible." Cobra said darkly.

"Why not?"

"Because Tatsuya died in a car accident five years ago."

NOTES!!

now we're getting somewhere!