[h3]Tokyo[/h3]


[b]Tokugawa Financial Group
1:45 PM[/b]


Prime Minister Chiba Inaba watched Tokugawa Jiro from across the dining table. Before them was a spread of rice, grilled fish, and a hearty Miso soup filled with vegetables and beef. Chiba and Tokugawa were the only two people in the entire executive dining suite. The large window that took up the room's entire far wall provided a dizzying view of Tokyo from eighty stories above.

"So, what do you think?" Tokugawa asked. He swept a hand around the room.

Chiba picked a piece of fish off his plate with chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

"The building is impressive, Jiro. The biggest in Tokyo, you say?"

"The biggest in [i]Asia[/i]," Tokugawa said, snapping his chopsticks together. "Nothing but the best for the [i]zaibatsu[/i]."

Chiba nodded and tried his Miso. Jiro sat at the head of the largest business conglomerate in Asia. The Tokugawa Clan he hailed from claimed their lineage to the original Shogun. After their loss of power to the Meiji Restoration, the family shifted into the business sector. Jiro personally oversaw the Tokugawa Financial Group, an investment and banking company with branches in every major city in Japan and the Empire. In addition, Jiro and his brokers also handled investments for over half the Diet -- Chiba included -- and almost all the Royal Family.

The finance sector was bolstered by the [i]zaibatsu[/i]'s many other arms. There was Tokugawa Manufacturing, Tokugawa Electric, Tokugawa Oil, Tokugawa Motors, the arms manufacturing Tokugawa Heavy Industries, and almost a dozen more. Every company owned by Jiro and his family, every company a major part of Japanese day to day life.  

"Did you ever get my congratulations telegram?" Tokugawa asked.

"I did, right after the election. It was very kind of you."

"Well, I am proud of you. So far our university class has yielded captains of industry, generals, writers, and artists, but you are our first PM."

Chiba chuckled. "Hopefully I can stay the first one. Honestly, the job is getting to me. The PM holds the piss bucket while the peerage and military take turns filling the bucket."

"It's understandable," said Jiro. "Especially with Philippines issue."

Chiba looked up from his food.

"How do you know about that?"

Tokugawa flashed a grin. "You know the [i]Gunbatsu[/i], Inaba. When they lobby for something they cast a wide net. A war waged on multiple fronts, like good soldiers. They've been around to all the Big Four, telling us how an invasion and conquest of the Philippines will be good for business. And I am inclined to agree." 

Chiba lowered his chopsticks. "You're prepared to get Japanese boys killed?"

Tokugawa shrugged. "If they have a Tokugawa Type 75 in their hands, they'll be the ones doing most of the killing. And let's not forget, the Philippines have millions of consumers. It expands our markets. Hell, I told Grand Admiral Kubo that the best thing the Empire could do for business is take all of Southeast Asia. There are so many resources they are not capable of developing like we are."

"That's rather cold, Jiro."

"It's the truth, my friend." He favored Chiba with a sad smile. "Do I want to see our young men die? No. But when it comes to the future, eventually it's going to come down to us or China. We either expand or we die. If some boys die in the process, then so be it. The rewards far outweigh the risk."

"I can't make that decision and sleep at night."

"The generals and the young men are eager to reclaim glory for the Empire," said Tokugawa. "We got off lucky, my friend. We served just before it all went to shit with China. We never had a chance to become one of the Defeated. I put their decisions into that context. I know you have to play the good liberal. Your whole man of the people routine is as endearing as it is earnest." 

"It's not a routine," said Chiba. "I know the powers that be think they elected to me as show of good faith towards the party, a way to give the Diet a break from [i]Seiyūkai[/i] control. But I wish to be more than a caretaker, Jiro. Leading us away from war is a first step."

"But let us keep in mind that it will not be your decision, will it? It falls upon the Emperor. Feel free to play the Cassandra if this whole thing is a disaster. We both know how much you enjoy your moral victories." 

"I'd settle for regular victories," Chiba sighed. "Besides, if war does come, I'd want it to be successful. Even if it means my being thrown out of office in this case than be proven right."

Tokugawa let a wry laugh escape his lips. "At least there is consolation. All you face is career ruin. If this is a disaster, then the high command will all commit [i]seppuku[/i]."

"Well," Chiba said with a grin. "Perhaps there would be at least a partially good outcome to that misfortune."


---



[h3]Korea[/h3]


[b]Incheon

6:30 PM[/b]

Kim Soo Jung trudged along the busy street with the other commuters on their way home after a long day of work. Her last day of work, in fact, at the Tokugawa Munitions Factory. She'd been called into the supervisor's office just before work ended that day. Ito-san looked at her from across his desk, his beady eyes magnified by his thick glasses.

"You are in trouble," he said in crisp Japanese. In the six years he ran the plant, Ito never bothered to learn a word of Korean. "Very big trouble. It could cost you your job. How best to resolve this problem?"

It turned out that Ito's solution was to blow him in order to keep her job. Kim told the greasy man to go to hell and she stalked out. He followed her, red faced and bellowing how she would never work in this factory or any Tokugawa business in Korea ever again.

It was a pretty bold threat. Tokugawa and all its subsidiaries helped bring many jobs to Inchon, Korea's industrial hub. It would be hard for Kim to find work if she truly was blacklisted from Tokugawa, but she would manage. In the ten years she'd been struggling, she and her [i]Wangja[/i]always managed.

Kim packed into a trolley with over three dozen other tired commuters. She clung to the railing above the seats as the car swayed and bounced north through the city, away from the heavy industry and towards the neighborhoods. With each stop, more and more people climbed off the tram and finished their shuffling journey home on foot. Kim stepped off at the penultimate stop of the trolley and started down the street towards her home.

This part of the city, near the waterfront, was more shantytown than actual neighborhood. Wooden homes crudely built were sloping towards the water, built as only temporary housing but slowly becoming permanent in the decades since it had been built. Neighbors waved to Kim and greeted her politely as she walked towards the shack that served as her home. She bought cabbage from an old man who passed by with a car filled with vegetables.

"[i]Wangja[/i]," she called as she entered the house. 

"Mama." 

Kim Joon Young, her nine year old son, raced to great her. The small boy wrapped his arms around her. He only came up to her waist, but eventually he would tower over her. He began to tell her all about his day at the Japanese Boys School when she passed the cabbage to him. His smile turned down at the corners and became a frown.

"Cabbage again?"

"Yes," she said. "Be thankful for it. Did any post come today?"

"A letter."

"Start boiling the cabbage, [i]Wangja[/i]," Kim said, kissing her son on the top of his head.

While her son shuffled off to the hotplate that served as their stove, Kim found the letter on the table beside the front door. Her heart raced as she saw the address. It was from her brother in Seoul. She refused to even think of the city by its Japanese name. Kim opened the letter carefully. She opened the sheet of paper, finding a smaller one inside of it. She read the letter from her brother, her heart sinking with every passing word. He and his friends, their subversive group they called Friends of Korean Sovereignty, were worried that the Kenpeitai was on their trail. They they thought they were being followed. That was why he was sending this.

Kim put the letter aside and opened up the smaller folded piece of paper. It was an address somewhere in Seoul and a series of numbers. To her, it looked as if it were some kind of bank account number. A safe deposit box maybe? She felt dread as she traced over the paper with her fingernails. Of course it was a safe deposit box. [i]The[/i] safe deposit box. She knew exactly what was inside that box. It was the only proof the world had to her secret. If her brother were ever captured by the Kenpeitai, then he would rather be killed than reveal what was inside that box.

"[i]Wangja[/i]," she called to her son. "How would you like to spend a few days with Mrs. Moon?"


---


[b]Keijō
4:21 AM[/b]


"Tell me about Kim's sister."

Inspector Shinzo stared across the table at Cho. The young Korean radical was a mass of welts and bruises. Less than a week in the Kenpetei's custody had aged the man by ten years. His short hair was already starting to turn grey. They were the only two people inside the jail the Kenpei used, the one that officially didn't exist. The few guards on night duty were pulled by Shinzo's orders. He wanted no eavesdroppers anywhere near him and Cho as they spoke.

"I know he has a sister," Cho shrugged. He realized his mistake, referring to his friend in the present tense, and took a deep breath. "Had... he had a sister."

"This much I know," Shinzo said, pulling cigarettes from his jacket pocket. "She is listed in his file."

It took Shinzo a few hours to link the Kim girl to the Kim boy they'd executed last week. Kim was a common enough name in Korea that it would be unwise to make the assumption, but if the Kim boy was a radical then it seemed to reason that he would have family with checkered pasts. Unfortunately, the file only listed her name and age and last known address from six years ago. She matched, both in name and age, the details the governor-general had given Shinzo earlier in the evening. He had no idea why Tokyo would be interested in the sister of a Korean radical, but it was not his place to know their reasoning. His job was to complete his task.

"All I know is that he had a sister," said Cho. "I've told you so much already, why would I lie?"

"You have been very forthcoming, Cho-kun. Which is why I do not think you would try to deceive. I think, instead, you should focus. Kim was your roommate, yes? Did he ever have any correspondence?"

"No," Cho said with the shake of his head. "Song always sent letters to his family in Pyongyang... I mean, Heijō. Kim..."

Shinzo sat forward in his chair when Cho trailed off.

"Yes?"

Cho looked to his left, trying to recall a memory. "He sent a letter last week. Just before... before."

Shinzo had to fight off his annoyance as Cho appeared to be on the verge of tears. He wanted to slap the boy across the face and tell him to get on with it. So he'd taken a little beating. He was alive, wasn't it? Which was more than he could say for his other friends.

"Before you arrested us," he finally said with a hard swallow. "He asked me to post it for him on my way to class. I did so. It was addressed to simply Soo."

Shinzo felt the hair on the back of his arms standing up. He suddenly realized he still held the pack of cigarettes in his hands. So caught up in the conversation, he'd never bothered to shake one out. He clung to the pack even forward as he leaned forward even further.

"Do you remember where was it going?"

"I cannot remember the exact address, but only the city. Inchon."