"So, it's 'Ken' now, is it?"

Annja smiled. "Jealous?"

Garin ignored her. "I'm suggesting you make sure he is the rightful heir before you engage your rather impressive abilities toward helping him, possibly doing more harm than good."

Annja leaned back again. "What does this have to do with you, anyway? I mean, why are you even concerned about this? Aren't you the guy who likes to let chaos unfold wherever it may be?"

Garin set his gla.s.s down and leveled a hard stare at Annja. "Don't ever simplify my personal philosophies like that, Annja. They aren't nearly as neatly labeled as you'd make them out to be."

"Fine. Whatever."

Garin finished his Scotch and the waitress immediately appeared with a fresh one. If she'd hoped to impress Garin, she was disappointed. Garin took notice of the fresh drink as if he had expected it all along.

He's so pompous, Annja thought around a mouthful of egg and toast. Still, she had to admit that what he suggested at least made some degree of sense.

"Why would anyone care about the relic anyway? It's just an antique."

Garin frowned. "With supposed magical abilities."

"Supposed being the key word," Annja said. being the key word," Annja said.

Garin smiled. "You don't believe it."

"I don't know what to believe. I mean, magic? Come on." Annja shrugged. "I just don't know if I can buy into that."

Garin shook his head. "Annja, there are times when that mind of yours truly does amaze me. Equally so, and regrettable even, are the times when your obstinacy nearly numbs me cold."

Annja set her fork down. "If you're going to insult me, I'll ask you to sit elsewhere."

"It's my table." Garin grinned.

Annja stood. "Fine, then I'll move."

Garin sighed. "Sit down, Annja." He paused. "Please."

Annja sat and resumed eating. If nothing else, she'd take pleasure in stiffing Garin for the bill. Not that he'd even blink. He had more money than he knew what to do with.

"I know the subject of magic is a touchy one. But honestly, the sword-"

"Is not connected to this at all and I'd appreciate you leaving it out of the conversation," Annja snapped and then stared at Garin. "Please."

"Very well. But you can't pretend it doesn't exist." Garin took a deep breath. "It's a part of who you are now."

"I don't pretend anything. But neither do I believe everything people say. You and Ken think this thing is magic. Fine. That's got no bearing on the fact that it's missing. I also don't expect it will matter when I locate it. Magic or not, the thing is lost and needs to be found."

"It does need to be found." Garin nodded. "As long as it's found by the right people."

"So you said."

Garin finished his second drink. The waitress reappeared. Now Garin looked her over. He spoke a few words to her and she blushed immediately.

Good lord, Annja thought. Tell me I'm not witnessing a seduction here.

Garin stood. "Be careful, Annja. That's all I'm saying." He strode out of the restaurant toward the elevator bank. The waitress dutifully followed behind him.

Annja gulped down the rest of her orange juice and then looked down at the table at the tiny slip of paper that had somehow materialized when she wasn't looking.

Garin hadn't paid the bill.

7.

Annja spent the rest of the day exploring the small shops that surrounded the hotel. While the majority of Tokyo seemed encased in steel and gla.s.s, Annja was glad to see that there were still some small stores that carried all sorts of gifts ranging from handmade wooden combs to antique books and scrolls and everything in between. The toughest part of the day was trying to make use of the little bit of the language she knew to make herself understood. As it was, she still came away from her excursion laden with several bags full of unusual souvenirs.

As she jostled the bags and tried to maneuver the crowded streets, Annja couldn't help feeling that someone was watching her. Twice, she felt the feeling strongly enough to actually turn around and search the crowd for a familiar face. But doing so proved futile. The sea of faces that greeted her held no one she recognized.

"It's probably Garin," she told herself. Once he'd finished with the waitress, he'd probably decided it might be amusing to stalk Annja for a while.

Annja frowned and continued her journey.

She grabbed a quick lunch at a noodle stand located by the train station. She'd heard that these small four-seat eateries could serve some of the best buckwheat-noodle soups in j.a.pan and she wasn't disappointed. Fortunately, she had no trouble explaining what she wanted because the proprietor had taken the time to have an ill.u.s.trated menu printed up. Annja merely pointed at the appropriate pictures and said thank-you when she was done. The piping-hot soup was served with a cold Asahi beer, which complimented the dish wonderfully.

When she arrived back at the hotel, the ever polite desk clerk bowed and then informed her that she had a message. Annja expected a piece of paper but was instead directed to a small phone in the lobby and told to press several b.u.t.tons. Ken's voice purred in her ear.

"Please be in the lobby at six o'clock. Bring your training clothes."

Annja saw the large clock on the wall behind the reception desk read 5:40. She hung up the phone, raced upstairs and got changed. She hoped that Ken was taking her to see some authentic ninjitsu ninjitsu training. training.

At 5:58 she strolled off the elevator with her small carry bag. The hotel laundry had cleaned Annja's sweaty gear. Annja reminded herself to leave a decent tip for the maid service.

Ken leaned against one side of the lobby doors when she exited the elevator. He was dressed simply in jeans and a thin black nylon windbreaker with a T-shirt underneath. He smiled when Annja approached. "Good evening."

Annja smiled. "Hi."

"I trust you've had a nice day?"

Annja's eyes narrowed. Had Ken been the one following her? Was that what she'd felt? It would have been relatively easy for him to do so, especially in light of what he'd told her last night.

"Very nice," she said. No sense confronting him early on and ruining her chance to see the ninjitsu ninjitsu training. She noticed Ken's small bag at his feet and pointed. "Is that your stuff?" training. She noticed Ken's small bag at his feet and pointed. "Is that your stuff?"

He glanced down. "Hmm? Oh, yes. It will come in handy for where we're going."

Annja grinned. "Which is where?"

His eyes bounced back to hers. "Exactly where you think we're going. Please follow me."

He led her outside the hotel. The evening commute was still in full effect. Office workers streamed past while schoolgirls in uniforms that seemed to include microminiskirts hiked too far north to be anything but obscene giggled into cell phones and tossed their dyed hair in the direction of anyone who might notice.

Ken seemed to melt into the flow of people and Annja felt him take her hand, pulling her through the turbulent sea. His hand felt smooth but hard, like polished cool white marble, she decided. When they finally reached the train station, Ken let her hand go and Annja found herself wishing that he had held on to it.

Ken stood in front of the ticket machine and plunked several coins into it. The machine spit out two tickets and he handed one to Annja. "Come with me. Our train is downstairs and should be leaving soon."

They descended the stairs, pa.s.sing more people. Ken led them onto an almost deserted train car. Two boys in their school uniforms and hair tousled into rat's nests slept in their seats.

Ken nodded at them. "They've been in school for many more hours than in America. After regular cla.s.ses, they go to special after cla.s.ses that are designed to help them get into college. Maybe they've been going for the better part of sixteen hours."

Annja frowned. "That must take a toll on them."

"It's all about getting into college over here. High school is the real grind. Once they get into college, they can relax somewhat. College is for making contacts that will help them the rest of their lives. But the compet.i.tion to get in is fierce. Some kids, they don't make it. Every year there are a few suicides over it."

"Suicide?"

Ken shrugged. "It's not as bad as when I was growing up, but it can still get pretty crazy."

Annja shook her head. "But I saw schoolgirls earlier who looked like they didn't have a care in the world."

Ken smiled. "You saw some schoolgirls. There are plenty who stress just like these guys. But there are also plenty of other schoolgirls who don't. Some are actually prost.i.tutes-some just don't care. Even the ones who graduate high school, if they've got the looks, can go get jobs with the airlines or marry a rich guy."

"Nice bit of equality over here." Annja frowned at the thought of wasting her life like that.

"j.a.pan doesn't claim to be equal. j.a.pan just is. That's what screws up so many foreigners who come here. They think they know what j.a.pan is, what the society defines itself as. They take great steps to try to become j.a.panese, but it can never be."

"Why not?" Annja asked.

"Because j.a.pan simply doesn't care. Our society is such that it take no pains to explain itself. It's as if the culture is one ma.s.sive ball of who-cares-what-other-people-think. j.a.pan couldn't care less if foreigners understand what makes us tick. We are enigmas unto ourselves. And j.a.pan hides its true nature even from itself. The best way to survive in such a place is not to try to figure it out, but to simply accept. And if possible, manipulate that acceptance so you prosper."

"Manipulate it?" Annja shook her head trying to imagine how that might even be possible. "How?"

But Ken only smiled some more. "Well, that takes a bit of practice. But if you look at how we emerged from the ashes of World War II saddled with the strict regulations imposed by the Allies, and rose to become an economic powerhouse, that's one glimpse into how our leaders were able to do it."

"I thought j.a.pan's economy was in trouble," Annja said.

"It is," Ken replied. "I think someone tried to figure us out and ruined what we had. But I'm not concerned. Something will happen to bring us around again."

The train chimed twice and the doors slid shut. Annja looked at Ken. "Where are we headed?"

"Out of the city. We're going to a small town about twenty minutes outside of Kashiwa."

The train streamed out of the station, and Annja marveled at the smoothness of the ride. She felt a curious sensation; her b.u.t.tocks were warm. She shifted once and then looked at Ken who smiled.

"They heat the seat here," he said.

Annja raised her eyebrows. "No wonder those guys are asleep."

Ken nodded. "It does seem to promote that, doesn't it?"

"I might fall asleep myself if I'm not careful."

"I'll wake you if you do. Don't worry."

But Annja had no intention of falling asleep. The city disappeared and an urbanized sort of suburb followed. Open fields clogged with rusted bits of farm machinery shot past her window. Smaller wooden homes replaced the high-rise apartment buildings.

Eventually, Ken nudged Annja, who jolted. "Huh?"

"You started to doze. Come on, this is our stop."

Annja followed Ken off the train, and her nostrils were immediately a.s.saulted by a strange scent that seemed somehow familiar. "What is this smell?"

"Soy sauce. There's a big factory-one of the world's biggest companies-just on the other side of town. The air here is forever stained by it. You get used to it pretty quick, but I've been kind of turned off to soy sauce ever since I started coming here."

They ducked out of the station and turned left. Ken crossed the train tracks they just rode across and then turned left again. Annja saw a sea of bicycles parked in neat lines.

"Is this common?"

"Sure. People park them here all the time and ride the train into Tokyo proper."

Annja pointed. "But none of them are locked up."

Ken shook his head. "No one's going to steal them. There's no point to it."

Ken threaded his way through the small pa.s.sage between the bike wheels and Annja twisted to do the same. She spotted some pimped-out bicycles and couldn't help but think that in America, these would have been stolen in no time flat.

They cleared the bicycle labyrinth and walked on. Ken smiled at Annja. "Tonight is likely to be very busy."

"Busy?"

"The dojo is small. Real estate prices being what they are, it was almost impossible for the grandmaster to find anything affordable that would still serve well as a dojo. Some of his senior students pitched in to help him buy this place. But it's still small by Western standards. Ordinarily, the size wouldn't be an issue but people journey here from all over the world. Numbers add up."

An open field that had recently been mowed sat on their left. Ken nodded at it. "This used to be full of tall reeds. We had a saying that we'd dump the bodies of annoying Americans into the swamp and let them rot there."

Annja didn't know if he was serious or not. "Did you ever really do that?"

"Of course not." Ken chuckled but then stopped. "Well, actually, there was this obnoxious fool named Pritchard Magoof. For him, we made an exception. He came over here as the student of a very accomplished teacher in America. And of course, he promptly let his ego explode and became rank hungry without having one ounce of technical skill. Now he mostly hangs around the dojo looking like a little puppy dog. We humor him, but he'll never amount to anything."

"Sounds like a real prize."

Ken's eyes narrowed. "Maybe if he's there tonight we'll let you train with him." He laughed. "Now that'd be entertaining."

Annja shook her head. "I'm not here to be anyone's entertainment."

"True, true. We have more important things to do than beat Magoof into smithereens. He'll do that himself anyway. Rumor is it's only a matter of time before he gets thrown out for being such an idiot."

They pa.s.sed a ramshackle hotel. Ken pointed it out. "This is where the rowdy foreigners stay when they're over here making a.s.ses of themselves."