Threats from the Unknown

The editor of the Shūkan Gendai gossip column paged through the submitted electronic entries on the computer terminal in his office, while Kimiko Tamatsuki sat in his visitor's chair with anticipation written all over her face. As a subsidiary, they were in one of Kodansha's corporate offices, and while Kimiko normally did much of her work from her telecommute location, certain situations required her to come in for important meetings.

"So, I ran your recent material past our Legal department, and they've expressed some concerns. They conceded your point that the threshold for libel against public figures is fairly high and so far, what you've turned in hasn't actually exceeded it. That said, they also stated nothing's stopping Ikemoto-kaichou from filing lawsuits, which we would have to defend, and in cases like those, the party with the deeper pockets typically wins."

Kimiko threw up her hands. "What happened to 'never picking a fight with people who buy ink by the barrel'?"

"There's also the other adage 'he who has the gold makes the rules'," the editor countered. "For now, he hasn't made any such lawsuit, but Legal's breathing down our necks and asking us to clean this copy up and make damn sure any mention of the girl is as close to factual as possible. No more of your trademark 'embellishments', at least not about Kyoko or the Ikemoto family."

Kimiko huffed with frustration and crossed her arms. "Fine... but we can still talk about Kyosuke Sakurai, right? He's not rich; it's not like he's got an army of bloodthirsty lawyers on payroll."

The editor raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who called him... what words did you use... oh right... 'Black-Ops military assassin'? Regardless, whether he served in Top Secret Special Operations or as a diplomatic protective attaché, the Legal department says if his service really is covered under a formal security clearance, there's going to be jurisdictional limits on how much we can report on him as well."

Kimiko almost screamed but managed to grit her teeth. "F-fine... OK, what about all the pictures, videos and posts that are already out there? Even if they kill my story, the Internet never forgets."

The editor shrugged, "OK, that we can't stop. The damage is done, at least for those posts." He caught the glint in Kimiko's eyes. "So, yeah, OK... if you write your stories solely relying on posts that are already out on public domain, we could hide behind the umbrella of them being public figures, as long as what you write doesn't cross the line into being public defamation, like outright accusing them of crimes you don't have proof."

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Hana noodles' first cycle of customers finished their dishes as the early evening dinner rush was on, and Yoriyoshi called out orders for the next wave of customers who had filled in the countertop seating. Bowls of the steaming hot stock base filled with noodles and pork slid across the table, each one dressed with a variety of accompaniments, according to each individual customer's order.

In the back, Kyosuke and one additional sous chef were busy preparing the dishes, while a pair of additional workers kept the dishes and kitchen clean and performed other chores as needed. Like any modern restaurant kitchen, orders were tracked by monitors to ensure each individual bowl was completed correctly. For himself, Kyosuke took some measure of satisfaction calling upon his experience he had gained when he first entered the service, before he switched to join USSOCOM. Being a line cook didn't pay as much as a professional hitman, but until things calmed down out on the impending syndicate war, it would be safer.

Just then, Kyosuke's phone chimed. He glanced at the caller ID and saw Kyoko's phone number. He noticed that the phone had logged a voice mail message; apparently, he had missed the initial notification during the dinner rush, so he opened messages and listened.

"Hello Kyosuke, it's me. I'm just letting you know I'm heading out now and I'll be waiting where we agreed at Sunshine. I should be there in about thirty minutes, depending on the traffic."

Kyosuke hung up and looked at the phone with confusion; were we supposed to meet this evening, he wondered. And where was Sunshine? He headed towards the front of the restaurant. "Hey there, just got a strange message from Kyoko," he asked Yoriyoshi.

"Ooh... what did the Princess want this time?" Yoriyoshi asked, with an amused expression.

"She said she was heading out and would be waiting where we agreed at Sunshine in thirty minutes," Kyosuke recounted, then looked suspicious. "I haven't spoken to Kyoko since we got back from Akihabara."

Yoriyoshi's amused look faded. "OK, yeah, that's a problem." He thought for a moment. "It's not exactly a secret the two of you have been hanging around this past week. It wouldn't be hard for someone to fake a phone call with your voice these days."

"Call the police?" Kyosuke suggested. "Let them know?"

"And tell them what...?" Yoriyoshi scoffed. "That you're a contract killer who has inside information of a kidnapping in progress? How do you think that conversation will go down?"

Kyosuke huffed at the realization of Yoriyoshi's point. "You think someone lured her somewhere? She'd have a bodyguard," Kyosuke suggested.

Yoriyoshi scoffed. "One guy? They'll jump him with six and he'll be lucky if he survives," as he shook his head.

Kyosuke swore under his breath. "And once he's out of the way, they'll..."

"They won't do squat, kid," Yoriyoshi assured. "Not unless they're total morons. Your Princess is way too valuable as a bargaining chip for them. They touch one hair on her head, and their lives won't be worth spit on the street. The real question is, which side's responsible; General Tanaka's people wanting the old man to renege on the deal, or the Oyama group to make sure he holds up his ends of the deal."

"I-I got to go..." Kyosuke muttered, as he took off his kitchen apron.

Yoriyoshi nodded tersely. "Try not to die." 

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Kyoko Ikemoto got out of the limousine as it pulled into Sunshine City, a major hub of commercial and entertainment outlets in Ikebukuro. Standing next to her was an assigned bodyguard, who motioned for the limo driver to move on and return at a designated time and location.

She looked at her watch and checked her phone while her bodyguard kept an eye on the surrounding crowd of moving people. "OK, he says he's waiting at Chiikawa Park just north of here," as she started walking.

Behind her, the bodyguard kept an eye out with slightly nervous feelings. At this time of the evening, the Park wouldn't be as occupied as it would have been during the day. He checked his watch. "My Lady, the park's going to close in about a half-hour. Are you sure he was planning to meet us here?"

The pair continued towards the ever-darkening path towards the park's admission gates. Kyoko went up to the gates and asked the attendant for a pair of tickets. However, as she did, the security guard's instincts began to grow increasingly nervous as groups of young men came up to the admission booth behind Kyoko. But before he could react, he was seized from behind by three additional men and wrestled to the ground. He grunted with pain and tried to wrestle his dominant arm free to pull out a retractable baton, but numbers and weight worked against him.

"Let me go!" Kyoko yelped as she was grappled from behind by an additional group of men who quickly gagged and bound her hands behind her and dragged her off to an awaiting van on one side of the street. The first group of men finished the assault by pummeling the bodyguard unconscious. A smattering of witnesses watched in shock, frozen in horror as the normally peaceful environment was shattered by the brazen attack. Soon, word spread like wildfire across the neighborhood, then across the social media networks as alerts went off all over the city. The kidnappers knew they only had minutes at best to vacate the area, change cars and go to ground as their faces would soon become the most recognized in the city. The clock was ticking.