Page 7 of The Lost Future of Pepperharrow

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That’s a conundrum.’

Kuroda wondered if he was in Purgatory.

Mutsuhito was looking at the next few pages of affairs to be gone through, altogether serene. He let the corners trail through his gloved fingers. ‘I think this young man is hoping to talk to you,’ he added.

Kuroda twisted round in his chair. Tanaka had been waiting just by the door, ignoring the steward, who was trying to insist that a red coat with patched elbows and a Fabergé egg was not appropriate attire. Kuroda went out to him as quickly as he decently could.

‘I could kiss you,’ he said.

‘Prefer it if you didn’t,’ Tanaka said, and seemed to notice the steward for the first time. ‘Yeah, mate, no offence, but will you fuck off ?’

The steward, amazingly, did as he was told.

‘Any news?’ Kuroda said quietly. He just about kept himself from saying, is Mori coming.

Tanaka nodded once and handed him a file. ‘Yes, sir. These are the findings so far from Aokigahara. The scientists are settled in, they seem pretty happy. We’re getting a few reports of ghosts from the greater Tokyo area now, mind you, but so far it’s mainly people in coal warehouses and flour mills. None of the papers have picked it up yet. But, one big request from the head physicist.’

‘What is it?’

‘What they’ve been saying all along. There’s only so much they can do without a real clairvoyant to run tests on.’

‘I know,’ Kuroda said. He sighed. Mori wasn’t coming of his own accord. Fine. He was surprised, though, because Mori must have known what Kuroda would do if he didn’t turn up. ‘Send a telegram to our ambassador in London, tell him we want to make an accusation against a British civil servant. Nathaniel Steepleton. Indecent assault against the son of a major samurai house.’

‘Hey?’ said Tanaka.

‘It’s England,’ Kuroda prompted him. ‘They’re religious fanatics. Their favourite hobby is policing people’s bedrooms.’

‘Oh yeah.’ Tanaka thought about it. ‘Culty weirdos. Dunno why anyone would put up with it, myself. Are they brainwashed, sort of thing?’

‘Visit and you’ll see,’ said Kuroda. He would have paid a lot for a phonograph recording of Tanaka’s reaction to a Baptist church sermon. ‘Anyway, Mori should turn up pretty sharpish if he doesn’t want his boy in prison by next week.’

Tanaka nodded slowly. ‘Surely he already knows you could make that threat though?’

‘I’m sure he does,’ Kuroda said. It was vaguely troubling that Mori had waited for him to make it. ‘But let’s hurry him along.’

‘And we’re definitely sure he isn’t going to kill us all?’

Kuroda snorted. ‘Tanaka, he’s a knight. Promise him a decent fight and he’ll come. It’s called fun.’

Tanaka looked like he could come up with a few other words for it than fun, and he had begun to turn away when a very young aide appeared with an envelope.

‘Um, sir?’ the young man squeaked.

‘What?’

‘Telegram – for you? From a Baron Mori?’

Kuroda waved it at Tanaka, then tore the envelope open.

This doesn’t bode well for not firing at the Russians, does it? My nine-year-old is better at playing chicken than you. See you on Dec 18th.

Like a banner, the old familiar joy of the fight unrolled in Kuroda’s heart, dusty for having been packed away for so long, but no less bright. He’d been starving for it ever since he left the Navy, only he hadn’t understood how badly until now. A proper tournament, with a proper knight, for the first time in years. All at once he wanted Mori to be here right now, to see what happened next, with the wonderful fitful kind of excitement he’d had on his wedding day.

Tanaka lifted his eyebrows when he saw the telegram. ‘You’re all insane,’ he said.

‘The only way you get any good at war,’ Kuroda said, still so full of elation he could probably have floated quite a respectable hot-air balloon with it, ‘is if you love it. That’s what a real samurai is.’