"Not to sound rude or anything, but I hope that we can wrap this up sooner rather than later..I feel like I haven't slept for two days, and I don't think I will get much more sleep anytime soon."
"Of course, I can understand that, and I promise to make this short. Yeah, you definitely won't be getting much sleep, I am sure. We all won't."
But you especially.
Kaneko gently caressed the traditional ceramic tea cup in front of him and warmly smiled at his host.
"I'm sorry that I intruded on you like this, Ikeda; I know that you value your privacy, especially this late at night and everything, but I felt that we simply had to talk over some issues before the assembly tomorrow."
"Ah, it's quite alright, but as said, don't make it too long."
"Of course, of course", Kaneko nodded while slightly raising the tea cup as if to offer a toast to Ikeda.
"I will get straight to the point. When the Popular Revolutionary Assembly will convene tomorrow, we both know that you will play a key role, if not the key role in assuring that it will actually lead to results for the Revolution and that the government of the Constitutional State quickly becomes operable again. There is no point denying that. But, as I have been trying to tell you again and again, with that influence you are wielding out there on the streets..."
Kaneko stopped and looked outside the Victorian-style window behind Ikeda, with its large frame and oval shape an interesting specimen, a style that had been popular in the Oikawan Empire since the tides of Germanophilia had swept over the country first in the early and then again in the late parts of the last century. The renewed interregnum of the Shogunate after the 1820s did not stop the insatiable lust of the people of what was now also popularily known in the West as Touzen. This was one of the few fields where the Westerners had, in fact, not won, since if Kaneko's trust in his own historical knowledge was justified, it had been the only case where an exonym had ultimately been replaced by the foreign world by embracing an endonym to name a state and people. The Oikawan, or more appropriately, Touzen, Empire, for all the comparative might it had possessed, had not managed to muster the strength to force the usage of a name in the West. This was a feat that had been solely reserved for the Revolution and the until recently blossoming construct that was the Constitutional State.
Blossoming until people like Ikeda came about.
"You are wasting your time. Not only that, but worse, you are also wasting my time", Ikeda interfered.
Silence.
Ikeda firmly shook his head.
"My terms are not negotiable. They are the terms of the people. We cannot possibly save the Revolution through a few cosmetic changes here and there, no, there has been a cancerous deficit creeping up on the entire state ever since Tarō's untimely demise cast the Revolution into uncertainty."
"I have not come to negotiate."
"Then why did you bother coming at all? Your kind has never been the one to just come over for some idle chatting, it has always been about money, money and more money for you."
Kaneko sighed. Leaning back, but not too far as to actually lean against the traditional paper wall behind his cushion, he mustered Ikeda.
If anything, he was an ordinary balding, aging 50-somewhat man, though he had retained some youthful features; the relative lack of wrinkles on his face and his juvenile, large and attentive eyes graced him with a dynamic aura, which was also no doubt what made him popular with the multitude of young female admires that regularly entered and left the estate.
Besides his considerable financial assets, of course.
Ikeda had, as far as Kaneko knew, never been married, nor ever indicated any interest in doing so. Neither had he fathered any children. Of course it was perfectly possible he had one or the other illegal offspring, but that was not of concern when it came to the inheritance of his estate. Nor was he a person to keep many close acquaintances around him: the Ikeda family estate was run and inhabited by a single man. A lone wolf, in short. Yet perhaps it had been this seemingly unassailable aura of impartial independence that had granted him the role he now had in the byzantine network of the political landscape suffocating the revolutionary archipelago.
Ignoring Ikeda's piercing glaze, Kaneko noted a man-sized shadow first appearing on the paper wall to his right, then disappearing, most certainly to continue its journey behind his back and again into the dark of the night. Being a man of the people was a dangerous notion, especially now as the Popular Revolutionary Assembly, this body by the people for the people, was about to congregate. These guardsmen were nothing but young fellows with barely a baseball bat though, as Kaneko had attentively noted when he had first entered the estate that evening. They were probably here for the sake of idealistic enthusiasm, not payment or professional security services. A service to the popular revolution.
A shame, really.
"I want to show you something, if you permit."
Without waiting for an answer, he set to work. Kaneko, without even hinting at urgency, reached inside his gray suit, let his hand remain inside his left pocket for a few moments which he used to stare down at the low Touzen-style table in front of him, sighed, and pulled out the long and shiny chrome barrel of a silenced Type 44 pistol. It was a beautiful model, and the stainless gun reflected the gentle light coming from a simple, yet stylized lamp hanging above the heads of the two men.
"You.."
"But I didn't. You did. It all makes sense, if you think about it, really."
"You.."
Ikeda choked, his eyes widening, his left hand frantically searching for something - anything - on the floor around him. But to no avail: the room was an example of classic simplicity, tidy, comfortable, and devoid of redundancies.
"What do you...want?", he tried to bellow, but ultimately whispered as Kaneko pointed the piece of Touzen engineering at the other man, putting his left index finger onto his lips while playfully winking at Ikeda.
"I want to kill you, simply put."
Ikeda fell silent, unable to avoid staring at his executioner. Tears began to form in his eyes as he began to contemplate his impending demise. The man, now weeping uncontrollably, folded his hands in front of his face.
"Please, you can't!"
"Unfortunately, I must."
"You...", Ikeda hissed, now having backed off again in a gesture of deviance, angry wrinkles dotting his red and swollen face. "You won't get away with this. The people will not allow your charade to continue. History is on our side - your kind has had long enough to ruin everything we fought and died for, Tarō died for. The death of a single man won't mean a thing in the world. You can't kill the inevitability of history. The people will change history for the better, and there is nothing you will ever be able to do about it!"
"Poetic. But you see, I disagree. At the end of the day, men do not change history. Bullets do."
"Of course, I can understand that, and I promise to make this short. Yeah, you definitely won't be getting much sleep, I am sure. We all won't."
But you especially.
Kaneko gently caressed the traditional ceramic tea cup in front of him and warmly smiled at his host.
"I'm sorry that I intruded on you like this, Ikeda; I know that you value your privacy, especially this late at night and everything, but I felt that we simply had to talk over some issues before the assembly tomorrow."
"Ah, it's quite alright, but as said, don't make it too long."
"Of course, of course", Kaneko nodded while slightly raising the tea cup as if to offer a toast to Ikeda.
"I will get straight to the point. When the Popular Revolutionary Assembly will convene tomorrow, we both know that you will play a key role, if not the key role in assuring that it will actually lead to results for the Revolution and that the government of the Constitutional State quickly becomes operable again. There is no point denying that. But, as I have been trying to tell you again and again, with that influence you are wielding out there on the streets..."
Kaneko stopped and looked outside the Victorian-style window behind Ikeda, with its large frame and oval shape an interesting specimen, a style that had been popular in the Oikawan Empire since the tides of Germanophilia had swept over the country first in the early and then again in the late parts of the last century. The renewed interregnum of the Shogunate after the 1820s did not stop the insatiable lust of the people of what was now also popularily known in the West as Touzen. This was one of the few fields where the Westerners had, in fact, not won, since if Kaneko's trust in his own historical knowledge was justified, it had been the only case where an exonym had ultimately been replaced by the foreign world by embracing an endonym to name a state and people. The Oikawan, or more appropriately, Touzen, Empire, for all the comparative might it had possessed, had not managed to muster the strength to force the usage of a name in the West. This was a feat that had been solely reserved for the Revolution and the until recently blossoming construct that was the Constitutional State.
Blossoming until people like Ikeda came about.
"You are wasting your time. Not only that, but worse, you are also wasting my time", Ikeda interfered.
Silence.
Ikeda firmly shook his head.
"My terms are not negotiable. They are the terms of the people. We cannot possibly save the Revolution through a few cosmetic changes here and there, no, there has been a cancerous deficit creeping up on the entire state ever since Tarō's untimely demise cast the Revolution into uncertainty."
"I have not come to negotiate."
"Then why did you bother coming at all? Your kind has never been the one to just come over for some idle chatting, it has always been about money, money and more money for you."
Kaneko sighed. Leaning back, but not too far as to actually lean against the traditional paper wall behind his cushion, he mustered Ikeda.
If anything, he was an ordinary balding, aging 50-somewhat man, though he had retained some youthful features; the relative lack of wrinkles on his face and his juvenile, large and attentive eyes graced him with a dynamic aura, which was also no doubt what made him popular with the multitude of young female admires that regularly entered and left the estate.
Besides his considerable financial assets, of course.
Ikeda had, as far as Kaneko knew, never been married, nor ever indicated any interest in doing so. Neither had he fathered any children. Of course it was perfectly possible he had one or the other illegal offspring, but that was not of concern when it came to the inheritance of his estate. Nor was he a person to keep many close acquaintances around him: the Ikeda family estate was run and inhabited by a single man. A lone wolf, in short. Yet perhaps it had been this seemingly unassailable aura of impartial independence that had granted him the role he now had in the byzantine network of the political landscape suffocating the revolutionary archipelago.
Ignoring Ikeda's piercing glaze, Kaneko noted a man-sized shadow first appearing on the paper wall to his right, then disappearing, most certainly to continue its journey behind his back and again into the dark of the night. Being a man of the people was a dangerous notion, especially now as the Popular Revolutionary Assembly, this body by the people for the people, was about to congregate. These guardsmen were nothing but young fellows with barely a baseball bat though, as Kaneko had attentively noted when he had first entered the estate that evening. They were probably here for the sake of idealistic enthusiasm, not payment or professional security services. A service to the popular revolution.
A shame, really.
"I want to show you something, if you permit."
Without waiting for an answer, he set to work. Kaneko, without even hinting at urgency, reached inside his gray suit, let his hand remain inside his left pocket for a few moments which he used to stare down at the low Touzen-style table in front of him, sighed, and pulled out the long and shiny chrome barrel of a silenced Type 44 pistol. It was a beautiful model, and the stainless gun reflected the gentle light coming from a simple, yet stylized lamp hanging above the heads of the two men.
"You.."
"But I didn't. You did. It all makes sense, if you think about it, really."
"You.."
Ikeda choked, his eyes widening, his left hand frantically searching for something - anything - on the floor around him. But to no avail: the room was an example of classic simplicity, tidy, comfortable, and devoid of redundancies.
"What do you...want?", he tried to bellow, but ultimately whispered as Kaneko pointed the piece of Touzen engineering at the other man, putting his left index finger onto his lips while playfully winking at Ikeda.
"I want to kill you, simply put."
Ikeda fell silent, unable to avoid staring at his executioner. Tears began to form in his eyes as he began to contemplate his impending demise. The man, now weeping uncontrollably, folded his hands in front of his face.
"Please, you can't!"
"Unfortunately, I must."
"You...", Ikeda hissed, now having backed off again in a gesture of deviance, angry wrinkles dotting his red and swollen face. "You won't get away with this. The people will not allow your charade to continue. History is on our side - your kind has had long enough to ruin everything we fought and died for, Tarō died for. The death of a single man won't mean a thing in the world. You can't kill the inevitability of history. The people will change history for the better, and there is nothing you will ever be able to do about it!"
"Poetic. But you see, I disagree. At the end of the day, men do not change history. Bullets do."