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Written in response to the Week #18 challenge/prompt on Resinality's ABJD Writing usergroup. Prompt was "the evil inside." This is my perhaps non-standard response. Anyone see the connection?
Wren's movements are smooth, studied, perfect. The tiny steps, tabi sliding on polished pine floors without so much as a whisper of sound, do not disturb the hem of her kimono. The layers of delicate silk never rustle, not even when she kneels in a movement that is as much gesture as function, head bowed, offering the skin at the nape of her neck, the top vertebrae of her spine exposed. Even the angle of her gaze is submissive as she slides open the door to the tearoom where Takeda is exchanging subtly waspish comments with his prospective business partners.
The tetsubin is already steaming lightly when she lifts aside the bamboo panel that hides the hearth set into the floor of the room. She is silent, performing this faux tea ceremony, this affectation of chabako demae, without words. None are needed - she is there as a backdrop, part of the aesthetic of the room. She is not expected to be a true master, in an establishment such as this. She is only expected to be able to passably play the part of one. She opens the chabako without hesitation or undue speed, not raising her eyes to the guests.
Takeda and the other two men ignore her, and the beginnings of the ceremony, to continue their discussion. Their perfectly tailored suits seem out of place next to Wren's exacting motions, the nearly bare room.
"It has come to my attention, Mr. Nikamura, that the Kyoto branch of your group has not been doing well lately, and yet you list it among your assets without any mention of that fact." Takeda watches, face closed, as the other two react to his words, the accusation delivered with the most polite and genteel turn of phrase, with that particular barbed gentleness only possible in Japanese.
Nikamura's eyes dart toward Lee Hyeong-Su, whose lips thin the tiniest bit, tightening at the corners. The Korean crime magnate smiles only seconds later, his words just as smooth and polite as Takeda's - and just as well intentioned. "Mr. Nikamura has assured me that the difficulties with the Tonsa group in the Kyoto prefecture is only temporary, and will soon be a non-issue. I entered into partnership with Mr. Nikamura without any second-thoughts or concerns, as brothers. I find it strange that Mr. Takeda, who is so much closer to Mr. Nikamura than myself, would not do the same."
Nikamura sits back on his heels, his expression placating. "I'm sure Mr. Takeda was not expressing any lack of faith, only looking for an explanation for what might seem to be confusing..."
Wren's actions are just as unhurried as when she first entered the room. The three men could be discussing the weather, for all the notice she seems to be taking of their conversation. It goes on for some time, as she prepares the tools, steeps the tea. The crackle of a radio channel flicking on in her left ear heralds the command she has been waiting for.
"Two and three are in position. Squad Seven is ready for backup. Move."
One of Wren's hands slides over, seemingly of its own accord, and takes hold of the warm, curved handle of the tetsubin. Her muscles never tense - she simply turns, still kneeling, and the pot comes with her arm, spraying boiling water across the room and Takeda before connecting with Lee Hyeong-Su's temple. The man drops, going down like a stringless puppet. Takeda is screaming and batting at his clothing, scrambling back away from Wren, trying to escape from the water soaking his Armani and making his skin blister. The threat from him is minimal.
Wren continues her turn, coming to a stop facing Nikamura, who is halfway up onto his feet, his hand inside his suit coat - reaching for a gun. Wren's hand swings forward, and the tetsubin snaps free, catches Nikamura in the stomach. The hot bottom undoubtedly burns him, but it's not serious, and it only slows him down for a moment, knocking him off balance. Wren is coming up onto her feet now, her hands dropping to the wide obi that circles her stomach just above her waist. The delicate wood-and-paper screen behind Nikamura bursts, tearing open. Jian's forward motion carries him straight through it into Nikamura's back, knocking the man back down to his knees, and Jian kicks Nikamura's gun - it skitters across the tatami mats to Wren's feet. He has hold of Nikamura's hand, twisting the arm up and across, and Wren stoops, picks up the weapon, and turns to Takeda as she rises, barrel of the gun pointed at his forehead.
Takeda looks up, sees her, and raises his hands in surrender. He does not try to draw his own gun. His mouth twists in a pained sneer - the burns must hurt - and his eyes dart from Jian to Wren and back again. "Do you think you will be able to get away with this? I have men below-"
"Already taken care of," Jian interjects. He does not look up, is slapping cuffs onto Nikamura's wrists. The words are for Wren, letting her know that Hunter and Squad Seven don't need their help.
"-and connections high up in the police network. Even if you did manage to level any charges against me, they will not stick. I will be a free man by tomorrow afternoon, and then I will come looking for you and I will-"
Wren steps over Hyeong-Su and kicks Takeda in the chest - he buckles backward, and she pulls zipties out from under her obi. The gun is still steady, following Takeda's face. "Takeda Jiro, you are under arrest pending investigation into criminal activities carried out in jurisdictions that fall within the laws of the World United Nation." She flips him onto his stomach with another kick - perhaps not as gently as she might have - and kneels in the center of his spine. "These jurisdictions include but are not limited to the People's Chinese Territories, Korea, Taiwan, the Republic of California, and Japan." She catches one of his hands in the nylon loop of a ziptie, yanks it tight and pulls his arm across until she can grab his other wrist. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in hearings before the World United Nation courts. You have the right to representation by an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
Behind her, Jian is giving the same spiel to Nikamura. Takeda has shut up and is looking pale now, eyes wide as he realizes that the situation isn't what he first thought.
Wren jerks him up to his feet, his hands bound behind him, the white nylon already making red lines where it pulls against his skin. "As you can see, Mr. Takeda, your connections with the local authorities won't be doing you much good."
The radio in her ear crackles again. "Van will be there in five. Be ready to bring them out the front. We want this fast, and we want it quiet. Hunter is sitting on the teahouse's owner and his staff to keep them out of the way." Wren glances down at Hyeong-Su.
Jian nods at her, and speaks into his mouthpiece - Wren doesn't have one. "We'll need another pair of hands up here, to get the Korean out. He's down."
"Affirmative. Someone is on the way." The radio clicks off.
Jian doesn't say anything, but the angle of his head and set of his shoulders as he pulls Nikamura up to his feet is approving. Not that Wren needs his accolades - she knows when she's done a good job.
Tetsubin
Wren's movements are smooth, studied, perfect. The tiny steps, tabi sliding on polished pine floors without so much as a whisper of sound, do not disturb the hem of her kimono. The layers of delicate silk never rustle, not even when she kneels in a movement that is as much gesture as function, head bowed, offering the skin at the nape of her neck, the top vertebrae of her spine exposed. Even the angle of her gaze is submissive as she slides open the door to the tearoom where Takeda is exchanging subtly waspish comments with his prospective business partners.
The tetsubin is already steaming lightly when she lifts aside the bamboo panel that hides the hearth set into the floor of the room. She is silent, performing this faux tea ceremony, this affectation of chabako demae, without words. None are needed - she is there as a backdrop, part of the aesthetic of the room. She is not expected to be a true master, in an establishment such as this. She is only expected to be able to passably play the part of one. She opens the chabako without hesitation or undue speed, not raising her eyes to the guests.
Takeda and the other two men ignore her, and the beginnings of the ceremony, to continue their discussion. Their perfectly tailored suits seem out of place next to Wren's exacting motions, the nearly bare room.
"It has come to my attention, Mr. Nikamura, that the Kyoto branch of your group has not been doing well lately, and yet you list it among your assets without any mention of that fact." Takeda watches, face closed, as the other two react to his words, the accusation delivered with the most polite and genteel turn of phrase, with that particular barbed gentleness only possible in Japanese.
Nikamura's eyes dart toward Lee Hyeong-Su, whose lips thin the tiniest bit, tightening at the corners. The Korean crime magnate smiles only seconds later, his words just as smooth and polite as Takeda's - and just as well intentioned. "Mr. Nikamura has assured me that the difficulties with the Tonsa group in the Kyoto prefecture is only temporary, and will soon be a non-issue. I entered into partnership with Mr. Nikamura without any second-thoughts or concerns, as brothers. I find it strange that Mr. Takeda, who is so much closer to Mr. Nikamura than myself, would not do the same."
Nikamura sits back on his heels, his expression placating. "I'm sure Mr. Takeda was not expressing any lack of faith, only looking for an explanation for what might seem to be confusing..."
Wren's actions are just as unhurried as when she first entered the room. The three men could be discussing the weather, for all the notice she seems to be taking of their conversation. It goes on for some time, as she prepares the tools, steeps the tea. The crackle of a radio channel flicking on in her left ear heralds the command she has been waiting for.
"Two and three are in position. Squad Seven is ready for backup. Move."
One of Wren's hands slides over, seemingly of its own accord, and takes hold of the warm, curved handle of the tetsubin. Her muscles never tense - she simply turns, still kneeling, and the pot comes with her arm, spraying boiling water across the room and Takeda before connecting with Lee Hyeong-Su's temple. The man drops, going down like a stringless puppet. Takeda is screaming and batting at his clothing, scrambling back away from Wren, trying to escape from the water soaking his Armani and making his skin blister. The threat from him is minimal.
Wren continues her turn, coming to a stop facing Nikamura, who is halfway up onto his feet, his hand inside his suit coat - reaching for a gun. Wren's hand swings forward, and the tetsubin snaps free, catches Nikamura in the stomach. The hot bottom undoubtedly burns him, but it's not serious, and it only slows him down for a moment, knocking him off balance. Wren is coming up onto her feet now, her hands dropping to the wide obi that circles her stomach just above her waist. The delicate wood-and-paper screen behind Nikamura bursts, tearing open. Jian's forward motion carries him straight through it into Nikamura's back, knocking the man back down to his knees, and Jian kicks Nikamura's gun - it skitters across the tatami mats to Wren's feet. He has hold of Nikamura's hand, twisting the arm up and across, and Wren stoops, picks up the weapon, and turns to Takeda as she rises, barrel of the gun pointed at his forehead.
Takeda looks up, sees her, and raises his hands in surrender. He does not try to draw his own gun. His mouth twists in a pained sneer - the burns must hurt - and his eyes dart from Jian to Wren and back again. "Do you think you will be able to get away with this? I have men below-"
"Already taken care of," Jian interjects. He does not look up, is slapping cuffs onto Nikamura's wrists. The words are for Wren, letting her know that Hunter and Squad Seven don't need their help.
"-and connections high up in the police network. Even if you did manage to level any charges against me, they will not stick. I will be a free man by tomorrow afternoon, and then I will come looking for you and I will-"
Wren steps over Hyeong-Su and kicks Takeda in the chest - he buckles backward, and she pulls zipties out from under her obi. The gun is still steady, following Takeda's face. "Takeda Jiro, you are under arrest pending investigation into criminal activities carried out in jurisdictions that fall within the laws of the World United Nation." She flips him onto his stomach with another kick - perhaps not as gently as she might have - and kneels in the center of his spine. "These jurisdictions include but are not limited to the People's Chinese Territories, Korea, Taiwan, the Republic of California, and Japan." She catches one of his hands in the nylon loop of a ziptie, yanks it tight and pulls his arm across until she can grab his other wrist. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in hearings before the World United Nation courts. You have the right to representation by an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
Behind her, Jian is giving the same spiel to Nikamura. Takeda has shut up and is looking pale now, eyes wide as he realizes that the situation isn't what he first thought.
Wren jerks him up to his feet, his hands bound behind him, the white nylon already making red lines where it pulls against his skin. "As you can see, Mr. Takeda, your connections with the local authorities won't be doing you much good."
The radio in her ear crackles again. "Van will be there in five. Be ready to bring them out the front. We want this fast, and we want it quiet. Hunter is sitting on the teahouse's owner and his staff to keep them out of the way." Wren glances down at Hyeong-Su.
Jian nods at her, and speaks into his mouthpiece - Wren doesn't have one. "We'll need another pair of hands up here, to get the Korean out. He's down."
"Affirmative. Someone is on the way." The radio clicks off.
Jian doesn't say anything, but the angle of his head and set of his shoulders as he pulls Nikamura up to his feet is approving. Not that Wren needs his accolades - she knows when she's done a good job.