I wrote this at the request of someone who died before it was finished. He wanted a story about something other than multiple futanari fucking each other blind for no particular reason. I created this world for him. The work is dedicated to the memory of Kaiser Reaper. [Please read the tags first.]
*****
The pain of war cannot exceed
The woe of aftermath.
-- Led Zepplin,
The Battle of Evermore
It is said, if you plan revenge, dig two graves. It is also said, if you seek peace, prepare for war. Make sure you have the right number of graves and are prepared. Sometimes other things need to be buried or prepared for.
------
The top floor conference room in an anonymous building on an anonymous street near the Akihabara train station offered a view of Ueno to the north and the Imperial Palace to the south, with Tokyo spread out in a smear all around. The lone person in the room studied the distant grounds of the Ueno Zoo. It was rumored a new panda cub was imminent. The door opened to admit a man who had all the appearances of being the last one in the chain of command ordered to deliver the news, and who had no one beneath him to delegate.
The man entered the room carefully, working hard to show the deference due to his superior without revealing the abject fear gripping his gut. He stopped a few paces distant, bowed the appropriate amount, and waited.
The person who looked out the window didn't turn around, but the man knew he was noticed. The set of the shoulders in the elegant suit spoke volumes. He remained silent.
Speak when spoken to
, he reminded himself.
I will be asked eventually
.
"What news, Maita-kun? Has the urn arrived?" The person spoke in English, not from any desire to show off, but to keep prying ears from understanding.
The man recognized this was a formal exchange, one implying the subject was important to the person at the window. He answered in the same language.
"Yes, Shirokami-sama, However," the man paused, worried he was treading dangerous ground. "It is empty. So I am told. I did not look myself. I did not presume to have permission."
The person turned away from the window. The face was one of a classical portrait: aloof, superior, focused on something in the distance. It was also androgynous, impossible to tell from the features if the person was male or female. The face reminded Maita of the latest pop singer, a woman who wore men's clothing. She had a huge following.
"Empty." The word was both confirmation and question.
"Yes, Shirokami-sama. Our operatives secured the urn without difficulty and replaced it with the duplicate. Inspection of the urn prior to delivering it, to make sure it contained the ashes of..." Maita decided not to mention the name; it wasn't necessary. "There was nothing inside. The urn has been delivered as requested, but our operatives determined the ashes were scattered at least four months earlier."
"Do they know where?"
"On the Pacific coast of America. Likely Oregon or Washington." Maita bowed his head. He was in new territory. He had never delivered news like this to his superior.
"Clever minxes," Shirokami said, mostly to herself.
The fact Reina Shirokami was a woman was a poorly kept secret within the Void Dragon-gumi. The rumor she was neither man nor woman, but something in between, was instant punishment to repeat to anyone or even say aloud. Tall--a hundred eighty-eight centimeters, but rail thin at sixty-one kilograms--her breasts were easily hidden with a band and an inventive tailor. Most were intimidated simply because they had to look up nearly twenty centimeters to speak to her. The rest had a different reason; Shirokami had no tolerance for incompetence and rarely allowed second chances.
"You mean the Dreadgrave sisters?" Maita was fairly certain this was a safe question. "Do you wish them neutralized, Shirokami-sama?"
"No, the family has seen enough sorrow. Have the urn placed on my desk. I will decide what to do with it later. Thank you Maita-kun."
The man bowed, assuming he was dismissed. Shirokami glanced at an elegant clock on the wall, the boon and bane of Western civilization, becoming the same for Japan.
"Where is Sato-san?" she asked. "We were to meet five minutes ago. He is uncharacteristically late."
Maita began to say he didn't know, but would find out, when one of the underlings--Kenji, Maita recalled--burst into the room, bowing rapidly.
"The police are here, Maita-san," he said breathlessly, not daring to speak to the number two of the Void Dragon-gumi. "Sato-Sama is dead. In his car. Early this morning. They are asking questions."
"Has anyone answered them?" the woman, who was now number one of the gumi, asked.
"No, Shirokami-sama. All profess ignorance of things."
"Good. Thank you, Kenji-kun. Show the police here." She turned to Maita as the younger man left. "See to the urn. Then return here. It seems we will have a complicated day. Oh," she said as the man bowed. "Have the plane made ready. Tell our people in Kyoto I will be visiting for a while. I feel a sudden need for mountain air and a visit to a temple."
