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The Dinner Party; [Shizuka, Hotaka, Shin]
Topic Started: Apr 16 2017, 06:48 PM (329 Views)
Czernobog
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Shin approached the address he had been given for the dojo where Shizuka Setsuko was staying with her -- teacher? family friend? he was a bit unclear on the exact nature of the relationship -- and looked over the low storefront. It looked like an old cafe, to tell the complete truth, but he wasn't about to judge. There was something refreshing about the relative humility of the building. It made it feel more like home. It was in a neighborhood fairly close to the park, in one of the endless webs of alleyways threading through one of the lighter commercial districts.

He had struggled to come up with what to bring. If everyone had been of age, he might have brought a small bottle of sake or whiskey: something to savor the flavor of instead of to get drunk. The person who had directly invited him, though, was most certainly not of age, and he wasn't about to participate in the corruption of a minor. Moreover, given the fact that the host for the evening was a man whose living was made on an athletic foundation, he felt it might not be the most welcome gift. Which left him somewhat floundering for a proper approach. Eventually, he had decided to stop by a traditional bakery on the way and bought a small box of melon pan to bring along, though he wasn't quite sure about how seriously his hosts -- both of them -- would take nutrition and whether they would appreciate the gift he brought along or think him frivolous.

Of course, he was convinced that it was merely the absence of his persona which made him feel so unsure of things. He felt vulnerable with Solomon gone.

Since he had arrived early, he stopped a block away, and smoked a cigarette quickly, debated chewing a bit of gum to clean his breath, and decided that it didn't really matter. Anyone getting that close to his mouth probably wasn't supposed to be there, anyway.

He walked up to the door, his contribution for the evening held balanced on his left hand, and knocked.
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The One True Nobody
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"...does this clockwork hand follow you... or guide you?"
The front of the building was dominated by a wide glass window, emblazoned along the lower half with the name of the business: Miyazaki Martial Arts, beneath which, by way of subtle: Okinawan Karate - All Ages and Skill Levels. Beneath that: Traditional Kendo - Beginner to Intermediate. The front door, similarly glass, bore a sign on the inside indicating the scheduled days for lessons. This particular day was marked as CLOSED at all hours, although it seemed like the only part of the week was open for karate sessions and an even smaller portion of days were set aside for kendo. Beneath the schedule, the sign also bore the words, Private lessons available at instructor's discretion. While comparatively modest prices for both disciplines were displayed, it was apparent that compensation for any private lessons would have to be worked out directly with Mr. Miyazaki.

Since the window and door were transparent, however, Shin would be able to see that the dojo within was empty, and quite clean: the majority of the room was a wide open space with a mat, training equipment lined up along the back wall. An area at the front was sectioned off by a chest-high wall, with benches along it for sitting, a few small lockers for student belongings and shoes, and a vending machine from which bottled spring water and sports drinks could be purchased.

Within about five seconds of Shin's knock, a figure emerged from a narrow hallway at the very back of the dojo area. Dressed in a casual-fitted button-up shirt, equally easy-fitting dress-pants, and a pair of casual brown slippers, the gray-haired man's arms were folded behind his back seemingly out of habit as he approached the door. He met Shin's eyes through the glass from across the dojo and offered a friendly grin, picking up his pace. He had to the pause at the door to unlock it, of course (the establishment was currently[/i] closed), but this took all of a moment for his dextrous hands to manage.

The door opened with a jingle inward, the old man holding it open and beckoning shin to enter.

"Inspector," he said. "Please, come in. Shizuka-chan has told me a good deal about you! She's running an errand for me at the moment, so just follow me upstairs and settle yourself in. I'm Hotaka Miyazaki, the owner. I assume Shizuka-chan explained our arrangement?"
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Czernobog
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Shin stepped in to the front area. Miyazaki looked like an old master from central casting, but had a casual, kindly enough manner to him. He didn't know what sort of person Setsuko's teacher would be, but everything was pleasantly in line with the essentially blank slate of expectations he had. Of course, if he knew about the situation and could muster this same attitude, then perhaps he was made of sterner stuff than most. In short, Shin liked him. The man's presumed Okinawan background didn't hurt: there was a history there that didn't exactly mirror so much as rhyme.

"Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Miyazaki-sensei. I have heard a small amount about your arrangement, but believe I know the outline, at least. Why don't you tell me more once we're settled?"

He glanced around the interior, less out of apprehension for the setting for their meeting than because he was simply curious about the sort of place that this was. Shizuka Setsuko was one of the few young people he had met that he might actually categorize as something like a friend, and knowing that she was staying in a good place was comforting. Beyond that, he was somewhat curious about the training setting or Okinawan Karate; he had only ever learned Taiho Jutsu, as it was a requirement for his profession, and had never much been interested in striking arts. Still, it was a system of defense that grew up under oppression and had been a means to resist the samurai, which -- given the fetishization of the samurai and feudal history that Shin saw -- was of some casual interest.
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The One True Nobody
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"...does this clockwork hand follow you... or guide you?"
"Of course, of course," Miyazaki affirmed. He closed the door once Shin was inside, locking it behind the inspector. Perhaps as a convenience, it didn't need to be locked or unlocked with a key from the inside, although Shin would notice a second, sturdy-looking bolt lock higher up on the door that Miyazaki had elected to leave untouched for the time being: this second lock bore only a keyhole and a six-button keypad, with five of the buttons bearing two numerals each and the middle key an emblem of an unlocked padlock. Not an unusual security measure for a small business in which the owner expected to have the luxury of locking themselves in at night.

Finished with the door, Miyazaki turned to lead his guest toward the back hallway, pausing to wait for him to discard his outdoor shoes.

"Some would insist that we bow before stepping onto the mat," said the old man in an amused tone once Shin had set his shoes aside (there were slippers for guests set in a low shelf near the door). "I only enforce such customs during training hours. My cousin is a real stick-in-the-mud about such things, though. Fortunately, he's not here to breath down our necks about it. I doubt anything about my dojo would make him happy, though, ha!"

The old man let out a jovial laugh and continued on his way across the empty dojo.

"The short version is, that cousin of mine in question happens to run a kendo establishment in Nagoya, and grew quite close to Shizuka-chan while she was living there with her family," Miyazaki said. "At some point, she decided to chance telling him about the situation here, because she was conflicted about staying out of it. He, in turn, told me. I've paid a visit to those ruins with Shizuka-chan, you know, just to settle my mind about the whole thing. Awful place. Even saw one of those 'Shadows.' I can't fight them without one of those 'Persona' things you all have, but I can at least give Shizuka-chan a place to rest her head and keep her skills sharp."

By this point, Miyazaki had led Shin down the hall to the back door, which was secured with a similar set of locks but was sturdy wood rather than a glass pane. To the left-hand side was a narrow staircase, which Miyazaki turned to ascend.

"She's been a great help around the dojo, of course," Miyazaki added. "I wonder if what she went through before she moved away has anything to do with this, but... she's quite mature for her age. Sometimes when I'm talking to her, I almost believe she's ten years older. Then she'll get flustered about something or come home after an unhappy break-up, and I remember she's just a kid after all."

The door at the top of the stairs was already open, but unlike the ones downstairs, this one had a keypad-lock on the outside as well as the inside. Miyazaki stepped through and stood aside to allow Shin entry. The transition from the dojo on the first floor and the unabashedly homey traditional Japanese second floor was stark, indeed. The area onto which the stairs climbed was a kitchen area, clean, organized, and evidently well-stocked. There were no walls confining it to its own side of the building: it opened to a spacious tatami room, and on the other side of that, a sliding door stood open, leading to a bedroom. What Shin could glimpse of it from here revealed it to be equally clean and organized, though the sheets on the bed against the wall were a kind of pure white that one might associate with a woman's room. A window on the far of the wall of the bedroom, att the front of the building, had been left open, along with a window at the back of the kitchen: Miyazaki saved on air conditioning during his dojo's off-days by making the most he could of cool weather, ventilation, and air-flow. The entire floor gave off the feeling of being something out of a traditional Japanese hotel room, except for the rolled-up futon beside the bedroom door. Miyazaki, apparently, had abdicated his bedroom for Shizuka's use.

The only other room was behind a small closed door off to the side of the kitchen area, evidently the bathroom, although Shin had passed a larger restroom on the ground floor as well. A neatly-organized shelf stood next to a sizable flatscreen television against the right-hand wall, stocked mostly with old films, many of which seemed to be martial arts movies. A few new ones were mixed in, but these seemed to be exceptions that had earned their way into Miyazaki's collection on their artistic merits. Another shelf, this one full of books, stood against the opposide wall, next to a black-laquered rocking chair. The middle of the room was dominated by a table with cushions around it, though there was a taller one nearer the kitchen that seemed to be intended more for cooking on than sitting at.

"Make yourself at home," Miyazaki said. "Shizuka-chan won't be but ten minutes, I think."
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Czernobog
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Shin removed his shoes inside, performing the operation one-handed out of a desire to not set down the box of melon bread, and set them in the appropriate spot by the door. He flexed his toes after he did so, a quiet pop coming from one of them. He followed Miyazaki's example and walked in the older man's shadow. He seemed to have a respectable home and business.

"I noticed the same thing," Shin admitted. "A lot of these young people are being forced to grow up very quickly, and I fear it's too quick for some of them. Setsuko-san is honestly the one I've seen adapt to it the best, but that's most likely just her inherent temperament. She...seems the sort to roll with the punches."

He followed up into the apartment above. It was a homey, pleasant place to be: the sort of home where you might sit at the kitchen table and have an in-depth conversation about weighty matters. He imagined that was most likely the bedrock for the friendship between Miyazaki and Setsuko. The first thing he did was set the box he had brought down on the kitchen table. He was still unsure if it was an appropriate contribution to the evening, but hoped that they would accept it as a gift if nothing else. He glanced around the room, assembling a mental profile of Miyazaki in his head from the surroundings.

"This is a very nice home you have here," Shin said. "How long have you operated the dojo, if you don't mind me asking?"

Despite being instructed to make himself at home, he didn't yet move to sit or relax, seeming almost as if his capability for such things had atrophied over the past year or so of near-constant struggle.
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The One True Nobody
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"...does this clockwork hand follow you... or guide you?"
"O-ho! Am I being interrogated already?" Miyazaki said cheerfully, laughing merrily and walking to the kitchen's refrigerator, extracting from it two items: a bottle of sake and a bottle of pristine-looking pineapple juice. These he set down on the table, moving to open a set of cabinets above the back counter, where he extracted a set of three full-sized glasses and two sake cups. "That's just fine if so; bragging about my business is about all I have left at this age, heh. I've been in business for more than fifteen years now. Scraped together the cash to start 'er up after my job writing for an old karate enthusiast magazine. You wouldn't've heard of it; it was engulfed by the Great Publishing Leviathan around the time that I got laid off and promptly went to the dogs, so I suppose I'm just glad for the excuse to have gotten out when I did."

The man set aside one of the larger glasses, setting about pouring himself a substantial glass of pineapple juice.

"You look like you could use some liquid relaxation, Inspector. Want to skip straight to the hard stuff?" he asked, looking up. "Oh, and don't worry about Shizuka-chan. She couldn't be less interested in alcohol if it were undiluted liquid arsenic. I have a feeling she's just glad I keep as many health-drinks around as I do." Miyazaki took note of the box of melon pan that Shin had brought along. "At my age, it pays to keep a balance. On that note, I'll be making oyakudon for us tonight. Should go nicely with the bread you brought along. I'll get a start on it once Shizuka-chan returns with the stock, it was the one thing that came up missing when I went through my pantry earlier."
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Czernobog
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Shin shrugged at the suggestion that he was interrogating the old man: it was his natural inclination to acquire as much information as possible about every person he came across: even if something wasn't material to an active investigation, sometimes people would use a metaphor or frame an idea in a way that made something come clear at a later date. It made the drudgery of the job -- the knocking on doors, the questioning, everything -- easier, if you assumed that even an idle statement might contain the key to some later conundrum.

"Well, I wouldn't object, though I can't allow myself to get too deep into the cups this evening," he said. "A bit of water wouldn't be unwelcome, either, though I can get it for myself if you just direct me to the appropriate cabinet."

So Miyazaki had been in publishing beforehand? Shin had to admit that he had no clue what "the Great Publishing Leviathan" was, but filed that away as something to ask about later.

"Where did you learn? Karate, I mean? From your mention of a cousin, I assume it's a family tradition?"
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The One True Nobody
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"...does this clockwork hand follow you... or guide you?"
"Ha!" Miyazaki laughed heartily. "Family tradition, indeed! No, my father wanted me to practice swordsmanship like a good little traditional Japanese boy. I might have hurt his precious feelings a little when I decided to dig a bit deeper into the family background and took an interest in my mother's Okinawan roots instead. But she wasn't a practitioner. No, both of my parents lived in America, though they moved to Japan before I was born. Father was drafted to fight during the war, you see... er, the Second World War, specifically, but after all was said and done they decided to move on over here to help with relief efforts and so on. I took up karate on my own time, although I still teach a bit of kendo as a concession to my dear departed dad."

He sat himself down with his glass of pineapple juice as he spoke, setting the sake and its glasses down in the middle of the table so that Inspector Imoto could help himself. The stack of two additional larger glasses was evidentally there for the pitcher of juice, which joined the sake on the table.

"My cousin's pretty deep into the actual family tradition of swinging shiny metal sticks around and pretending that samurai culture was as glamourous as the movies make it look," Miyazaki said dubiously; his tone made it obvious this wasn't a lifestyle he held in high regard. "Which is how he came to know Shizuka-chan. She took up lessons at his dojo to keep her skills up. I suppose that was the first sign that she wasn't ready to turn away from the fight for good, just yet."
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Czernobog
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Shin smiled at Miyazaki's characterization of swordplay -- given his heritage, he was less than enthused about its place in Japanese society, and felt more comfortable to hear Miyazaki's dismissal. Still, a number of upstanding young people had found it helped them stay alive in dire straits, so he wasn't about to completely dismiss it, even if it made him profoundly uncomfortable at times. When the discussion turned to Shizuka he nodded.

"She is a fighter," Shin said. "Though more a soldier than a warrior. The situation is...indeed complicated."

He paused. Keep things light, he reminded himself. Miyazaki was aware, but he wasn't involved, and Shin had a difficult time allowing himself to reveal his thoughts. He had trained himself too much in silence and duplicity, gotten to comfortable dissembling, omitting, and outright lying in official capacities to relax much about it here.

"You say he was drafted? Your father, I mean," Shin said, picking up the sake cup, but not yet drinking. "On the Japanese side or the American side?"

Did the Americans draft Japanese nationals? He had heard of the internment camps, but it wouldn't be unthinkable for them to employ ethnically Japanese soldiers in Europe, would it? His knowledge of that portion of history was somewhat underdeveloped, focused as Japanese history education was on events before the 20th century.
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"...does this clockwork hand follow you... or guide you?"
"On the American side, believe it or not," Miyazaki said. "He fought on the European front, of course. That's where they sent Japanese-Americans. Less chance of a conflict of interest there, and let's face facts, there isn't much you'd have to say to a Japanese man to convince him to hate Nazis. Even before the worst of it came out, their reputation with the Allied nations was... let's just say, very troubled."

The old man took a sip of his tangy juice, holding the cup thoughtfully before his lips as he considered the statement that Imoto had made just prior to the question.

"I've inquired quite a bit about what's been going on in this city; even convinced Shizuka-san to take me on a short stroll through those 'ruins' of yours and watched her kill a few 'Shadows.' So I think I can fill in the blanks with my imagination. If there's anything that I can do to help, or just make things a little less of a burden on you and yours, consider me at your disposal. And that's all that I'll say about that for the time being."

Another sip of his juice. At that moment, the sound of a door opening could be heard down the stairs, followed by: "Miyazaki-san! I'm back!" It would take a minute for her to switch shoes and ascend the stairs, but Shizuka Setsuko had returned from her errand at last.
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