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While I sank into the worn but comfortable cushions by the table, Tetsuo bustled about the fuyu-kyu’s kitchen, tearing open various vacuum packs, opening tins of tea and spices, and reconstituting other ingredients. Like the workspace on the lower level of Kei's ship, this too had been built to maximize space with numerous drawer spaces and cupboards, one of which contained a fold-down work table. Others, near the sink, housed a number of small appliances, which gleamed in the glow of the unit’s many wall sconces. Flanking the kitchen area, doorways curtained in a heavy cloth whose color matched the walls, secreted entrances to sleep and steerage areas that lay deeper inside the floating dwelling.
Although my head reeled with questions about the Madman of Motosu (how he was linked to Satoshi especially), Tetsuo, true to his word, refused to reveal even a hint about his association with the mysterious Yomichi. All my attempts to pry information from him were lobbed back at me, most often in the form of questions. So, while he prepared our meal of miso soup, rice, and pungent black tea, I recounted every step of the journey from New Edo that had led me to him.
I thought the revelations about Mazawa's exploding implants and poisoned rations, along with the possible cure for nokuru that he'd been hoarding for years would have piqued Tetsuo's interest, if not incited abject outrage; but he barely looked up from his cutting board.
"I've been aware of Mazawa's 'cleansing' efforts for some time, but I'm not the only one. Those who live near the Hamamatsu and Kobe holodomes, even clansmen from as far away as Nagasaki and our Aleutian allies have heard of his despicable deeds. They know his thirst for power will not be sated with New Edo. Unrest grows with each life he takes, a disquiet that will soon erupt in conflict."
I thought of the handful of fighter pods in Juno's ship. Even if the Shinu allies were similarly armed, a few skycraft seemed no match for the militia or vast resources that lay heaped inside New Edo holodome. "How many people have you managed to recruit?"
"The fight in the soldier matters more than the number of soldiers in the fight." He winked at me. "Enough of us to make Mazawa nervous. Extremely nervous. Why else do you think he attacked Sawagi? The army of marrow-suckers was an inspired touch on his part, though it will do him no good in the end." He tilted the cutting board, sliding chunks of tofu into a bowl of fragrant broth.
I squirmed in my seat. "I'm glad you're so confident."
"The world has had a long unfortunate history of tyrannical rulers, men and women willing to go to extremes to promote their crazed agendas. Narcissistic, narrow-minded, psychopathic—Mazawa is no different. He's nothing but a tyrant, so bloated by belief in his own invincibility, he can't see the instrument of his own doom when she's standing right in front of him." He pointed the business end of his blade in my direction and gave it a dramatic flourish.
"Me?"
"Your feline companion knew destiny when she saw it." His head disappeared behind the counter for a moment as he placed the bowl inside a flash cooker. Of all my misadventures, Tetsuo loved the story about the cat I met in the Otakoga village the most.
"Destiny had nothing to do with it. I was lost," I said, my last word punctuated by the soft chime from the flash cooker.
"You were led by a goddess." He began arranging bowls of soup and mugs on a large bamboo tray.
"She was just a stray."
"No, she was a sign." He set a bowl of soup brimming with chunks of tofu and thick strands of seaweed before me. "Think of everything she revealed to you. The spirits are with you. They want you to succeed."
"I don't believe in spirits," I said, focusing more on the mouthwatering aroma of miso.
"They believe in you, nonetheless." He set out bowls of rice, then handed me a mug of tea.
"Why me? I'm not powerful or important, I’m ordinary: a nobody. Less than nobody, since I kill people for a living," I said. "Innocent people whose only crime was contracting a deadly disease."
"The spirits make their own distinctions. Destiny, not death, defines you." He regarded me through the steam from his mug. "Now, eat!"
I didn’t need a second invitation. Soon, loud slurps and lip smacks replaced our conversation. The rain continued its patter against the roof, fire rang inside the stove, and leaves whispered against the fuyu-kyu. Lulled by the soft sounds and comforting meal in a warm dry room, I could feel my limbs growing heavier; but after answering all of Tetsuo's questions, would be damned if I was going to nod off before he'd returned the favor. "You promised to tell me the truth about the Madman of Motosu," I murmured, still struggling to keep my eyes open.
"I first met him after losing a ship to the Sea of Silence." Leaning back, Tetsuo clasped his hands across his belly. "At the time, I was quite young and foolish enough to think I could pilot a newly-commandeered warship alone in a storm. Although I was able to eject before the crash, my parachute malfunctioned, then tangled in the branches as I plummeted through the trees.
"I should have died. Instead, I dangled like an insect trapped in a spider's web for what seemed like days, with only the cries of unseen animals and the rustle of leaves for company. I still can't recall how many days, exactly...time passes differently inside the Jukai." Memory clouded his face like a shadow. He shuddered. "It is dark there even on the brightest day, but once the sun slips away, night eats at the forest, leaving only cold and blackness and silence. A silence as deep as the sky is wide, broken only by the whispering of the dead and the sound of distant drums.
"I know you don’t put stock in such things"—he shook his finger at me—"but the night before my rescue, I heard them! I thought they presaged death. Because I was not ready to die, I clapped my hands over my ears and screamed for help. Still, I couldn't shut out their noise. I cried my throat raw, until my voice was like an old crow's, but they grew stronger, louder, and stilled only when the first hints of grey seeped through the trees on a river of fog. Then, I heard another sound, one I thought I'd never hear again: a human voice. 'You are the sorriest excuse for a thief I’ve ever seen,' it said.
"When I looked down, a face stared up at me through the mist. A visage terrible to behold because of the many scars it bore."
I bolted upright. "Burn scars?"
Tetsuo took a sip of tea. "I thought he was a yokai. But he cut me down and gave me food and water. Unlike mine, his presence in the forest was no accident. Even more surprising was that he had not come to Aokigahara to end his life, as so many have for centuries: he'd made a pilgrimage there in honor of his wife."
"Was he from Tottori? Did she die in a fire?" I prodded.
"He never said, yet I could tell by his haunted look that grief had buried her claws deep and still had him in her clasp. When I asked, he wouldn't even tell me his name. 'Dare mo, Nani mo,' was all that he would say."
No one? Nothing? He sounded like a madman.
"And he's remained in the Jukai, still living there to this day." He leaned across the table. "I've seen him, Renata. Many times. As have many others. That's where the stories came from and unfortunately, how Mazawa finally found him."
"But how, Tetsuo? How could he or anyone survive in that forest? Is he still?" I circled one palm over my face.
"He hides his face from shame." He heaved himself to his feet and began clearing away the bowls. "Death doesn't want him and the forest won’t let him die."
"Everybody dies, Tetsuo. It's the only sure bet in this life." I crossed my arms and slumped back, grumbling, "I still don't understand what any of this has to do with Satoshi or me."
"Patience, Renata!" Bowls clattered in the sink. "A short time ago, Satoshi decrypted a communique between Mazawa and an important member of his staff. I wouldn't be surprised if it came from your soldier." He returned to take his seat at the table. "In it was the true name of the Madman of Motosu. Satoshi never told you?"
"No, but after Mazawa's summons, he was too busy staging his own death— that is, when he wasn’t trying to talk me out of going to New Edo." I ran my finger over the rim of my mug. "Anyway, Mazawa told me that the Madman's real name was Yomichi, not that it matters..."
"Doesn’t matter?" Tetsuo reached across the table to clasp my hand. "The name Yomichi means nothing to you? Nothing at all?"
"Less than nani mo," I said, wondering if this was the big secret Satoshi had kept from Juno. "But then, why should it?"
Tetsuo laced his fingers through mine. "Because it is your name, Renata."