"Please be seated," another oyabunsaid, indicating a pair of plush chairs separated from an arc of nine straight-backed chairs by a glass-topped table. A tenth chair, an overstuffed monstrosity of garish upholstery and crudely carved wood, sat between the arc and the table. As he and Michi took their places, Theodore observed that none of the oyabunsat in the armchair.
"You have no complaints of your reception?" one of the oyabunasked, beginning an interview that covered most of Theodore's interaction with the yakuza during the time he was seeking this meeting. The atmosphere alternated between tense hostility and relaxed friendliness. He was grateful for Michi's coaching in the proper attitude to take. He was careful to note which of the oyabunspoke often and which rarely. Michi had warned him that a paucity of speech would mark the more highly placed chiefs, though they, as guests, would not be expected to show the same restraint. Yasir Nezumi only asked one question. Finally, Theodore and Michi's answers seemed to satisfy the group.
Though Theodore had seen no signal, the nine yakuza stood up simultaneously. Theodore and Michi also rose when the kuromakuentered the room. A short, blocky man with a bull neck, he walked with a slight limp.
"Green tea for our guests," he said, settling into the overstuffed armchair across the glass-topped table from Theodore and Michi. He motioned for them to take their own seats. Behind him, the nine yakuza oyabunremained standing. Small talk about the trials of interstellar travel and life in a large city occupied them until the first cup of tea was drunk and a tray of sweets brought.
The kuromakusettled back. Theodore placed his tea cup on the table, prepared to listen.
"I grew up poor," his host began. "My family had little, often only pickles and rice to eat. My father was an educated man, a teacher at Luthien University, but he lost all to gambling. I do not have the education he had, but I've done the reverse.
"I started as a strong-arm. Life was simple then. Very simple. I was simple, too. An acquaintance introduced me to the yakuza. When I agreed to join, I had no idea what it would be like. I started by cleaning floors. Soon I progressed. Every day at five in the morning I would wash windows. Cold water, cold weather. It was very severe training. It's not so hard these days.
"My gang is old. Its lineage goes all the way back to Terra. It is a proud heritage. Pride is something you understand, my friend." The kuromakusipped his tea. "I don't require you to tell me your story."
Theodore's immediate reaction was relief. He felt uncomfortable with the tale he and Michi had developed. Then something in his host's tone registered, and suspicions suddenly flared in Theodore's mind. "Do you know who I am?"
"Of course," the kuromakusaid, nibbling at a sweet roll. "Courtesy of the Kereikiri-gumiout of Marfik. They are very enamored of you. Others think that you should be ignored, that you have no real claim on us. If I thought you were who you pretend to be rather than who you are, there never would have been a meeting. But I was satisfied, and impressed, by your persistence. Thus we meet today to talk about what can be done to our mutual advantage."
The kuromakuwiped his hand on a napkin. Raising a finger, he sent one of the oyabunto the ancient samovar to draw tea for his guests and himself.
"You see, we are in trying times. Young men are less loyal these days, harder to control. I try to take in many, to show them the right path. It is my hope that they will do the same with the next generation. Beyond that, a man can have little expectation of affecting the future.
"I am a traditionalist, a firm believer in the old ways of giriand chivalry. Ah, I knew you would approve. But these are difficult times, and we do have to adjust. Sometimes we do things that will make a bad impression, but we are trying to fulfill our role. We would like to be appreciated for the vital part we play in our community."
"Kuromaku-samais a gentleman," Nezumi interrupted. The elder yakuza smiled indulgently.
"He certainly is," Theodore agreed. At least on the surface. He is a fine dresser with polite manners and an excellent sense of hospitality.
"Domo,"the kuromakusaid. "You must understand that the Seimeiyoshi-rengois loyal to the Dragon. Our connections let us see much, and we are well aware of the dangerous waters where the Dragon now swims. The powers in Luthien scorn our aid. So we are most pleased that you are receptive.
"We shall drink on it."
He nodded to Nezumi, who left the room briefly and returned with a lacquered tray bearing a steaming sakeflask and a single cup. A towel was draped over each of Nezumi's arms. As he placed the tray on the table, Michi removed a small wooden box from his jacket. He took out the ceramic cup it held and passed it to Theodore, who placed it on the tray. The kuromakusmiled benignly as he poured sakeinto the cups. Theodore noted that he was careful to ensure that the amount of rice wine in each cup was exactly equal, the sign of equality between gang bosses when they drank to seal treaties.
"We drink," the kuromakusaid, lifting the cup Michi had produced. "I from your cup and you from mine, affirming our loyalty to the spiritual family that is our homeland."
He tossed back his cup. Theodore did likewise.
The kuwmakurefilled the cups for a second round. This time, he poured slightly more into Theodore's cup than into his own.
"Now we drink to show our loyalty and devotion to the Dragon." They drank.
The kuromakutook the cloth offered by Nezumi and carefully wrapped his cup inside it. He tucked the package inside his kimono. Theodore followed his host's example, wrapping his cup in the offered cloth and placing it in a pocket.
The kuromakusettled back in his chair. "Now let us talk business."
BOOK 3
Audacity
47
Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
18 August 3033
Theodore raised his eyes to the ceiling of the great chamber. Even lit with hundreds of globular paper lanterns, the dark wood rafters held their shadows and secrets. Like the Combine itself,he thought. Like myself
Beneath those rafters, a throng milled. In the traditional fashion, one side of the room was predominantly filled by men, some in formal dress and some in ancient Japanese style. The garments were radically different in cut, but the colors were much the same, blacks and grays and black-striped grays, a stark and formal patterning that offset the varied skin colors of the nobles, officers, and courtiers gathered for the occasion. Across the hall, the women gathered in constantly reforming clumps. With most dressed in formal kimono, they were like a bouquet of summer flowers, far outshining the masses of sunflowers set about for decoration.