Nodoka picked up a child’s toy, a doll dressed in a gi and headband, as she sat on a pillow in the corner of the room. After burning through denial and, she was ashamed to admit, anxiety and humiliation for her reputation, real grief settled in. It had been a couple days since speaking with the police after seeing the story on the news, and her days were still hard to get through. At some point the previous day, the concept that her son may have been murdered finally hit her. That Ranma was possibly killed by his father, no less, the man she married, only added confusion and anger to the mix. As she sat in Ranma’s old room, kept the same as the day he left, crying tears as she gently held one of his toys, Nodoka resolved to see that no child would suffer with no one to turn to ever again.
Many of the local news stations was hounding her for an interview. Maybe she should give it instead of being afraid of what people might think of her, to use the interview as a forum to begin her new role.
“I failed you, Ranma. I am sorry, I wasn’t the mother I should of been. But I promise you this, there are others out there in need and I’ll do better by them and for them. All in your name and memory, my dear little treasure. Please, give me the strength and courage to become a champion for children. I know, I’ll be challenged, but I’ll face them like a true Saotome. I won’t refuse any challenge that keeps me from doing what I can for all of the abused and orphaned. You’ll always be in my heart, little one. Everything I do, I will do it remembering you. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, how you brightened my day, all these and more I shall see every time I look in the face of a child that needs me. You needed me, and I wasn’t there. That is one sin that will burden me until I die. There is no making up for that one. I am sorry, truly, deeply sorry. How my heart aches. I keep thinking You’ll show up. I keep expecting to see you every time I turn a corner. And how heavy my heart grows when I have to remind myself that I’ll never be with you again. Guide me, dear Ranma, for I am lost and adrift and I have no center.”
Meanwhile, Genma was finally in well enough shape to be questioned by the police. He was just released from intensive care, and the hospital was more than kind enough to provide the police with a small, secure room for their use. They were also kind enough to collect samples from Genma’s bedpan for the forensics lab to analyze as well as pump out his stomach.
It was already a given that Genma would be kept highly secured and heavily sedated during his hospital stay, but the inspectors needed Genma in sound mind in order to do the interrogation by the books. The only real dilemma the investigators suffered was whether or not to use a ‘good’ cop. The ‘bad’ cop wasn’t an issue, as everyone volunteered to play that role. The case was causing so much strong emotions within the force that the Internal Affairs department was going to be on hand to supervise the questioning of the suspect. Already they had to confiscate bamboo shoots, rubber hoses, and one instance of hand puppets that looked like mimes. They weren’t actually sure about the last one, but as it wasn’t an approved item for interrogations, they decided to play it safe. The disappointed frown from the officer with the puppets only assured them more that they made the right decision.
Genma, as he awoke from a short nap, found himself not in his cozy bed in the intensive care ward, but in a wheelchair, inside a dingy room made completely of cement blocks and lacking a window. It was full of beeping machines and monitors, which Genma felt would drive him crazy in no time. He was wired up, a band wrapped around his chest, and all sorts of devices were under his hands, seat, and feet. He was secured tightly to his chair with no room to even wiggle about. There was also two burly guys, dressed in suits, and a slim, mousy guy in the corner. Mousy guy had a receding hairline and small, fashionable glasses over a beak like nose. The two toughs had their arms crossed and were frowning down at Genma.
“Please state your full name for the record,” said tough number one.
“Huh, whazzit? Who are you? Where am I?”
The second tough sneered down at Genma. “I’d be more worried about where I was going, if I was in your shoes. This is Detective Okina and I am Inspector Osake. We’re here investigating the disappearance of your son. Please state your full name please.”
“My son? What’s wrong with my son?” However, the only reply Genma got was a slap to the face.
“You are under investigation for the disappearance of your son. You are looking at a very long time in jail. Your full name please, we won’t ask again so nicely.”
“Genma Saotome,” Genma replied, confused but seeing no reason to not play along. He didn’t feel too threatened, the dread master did worse to him. But the threat of jail time made him worried enough to do as they wanted.
“You’re age?” Was his next question. After a series of such questions, including some he was asked to deliberately lie to, or to say statements like “I firmly believe the sky is red” the questioning finally began in earnest.
“What can you tell us about the last time you saw your son?” Okina asked this in a carefully controlled voice, trying to be as professional as he could. He hated to think that a man like Genma might get off because of some technicality with how he was interrogated.
“I was teaching him an unbeatable technique, called the catfish,” Genma proudly declared, giving very little thought to his answer.
“The catfish? What can you tell me about your son and the catfish?” The detective pulled a notepad from a pocket and began to take notes.
Genma answered quite frankly, not really understanding what was going on. “You wrap a child up in cat sausages and throw him into a pit of hungry fish. I’d have used piranhas, but you can’t find any in the seas around Japan.”
Inspector Osake remembered, from a staff meeting about the case, that a dog-eared page in one of the found books described something similar. “Do you perhaps mean the cat-fist technique? In which you wrap a trainee up in fish and feed them to hungry cats?” Osake thought that was a horrible thing to do to a child. He considered it a mixed blessing that Genma got it wrong. He hate to think what might have been found at that beach if Genma had gotten it right.
“Eh?” Genma wasn’t sure about that. “I’m pretty sure you have it backwards.”
“And, what about the screams your neighbors heard? They said it sounded like someone was being tortured.” Detective Okina addressed Genma this time.
Genma shrugged. “Had to make cat sausages for the training, didn’t I?” The three police officers in the room blanched and felt sick. They did think it may have been possible. The original call was about some wounded animal, but once the news broke about Genma possibly eating his son, all of his neighbors were quick to claim they heard a child’s cry.
The inspector pressed on. “So, was your son alive the last time you saw him?”
Genma didn’t quite catch the implied importance of the question. “Yes, I had just thrown him into the pit so he could learn the catfish technique.”
“Did you know the tide was coming in, filling that hole up with water?” Okina feared Genma was truly reckless enough as a parent to have risked a possible drowning.
“Eh? Was it? Ah, so one of the benefits of the catfish is to breathe underwater. That’s my boy.” Pride was evident in Genma’s voice, but that did little to make the officers feel better.
“Where is your son, now, Mr. Saotome?” The mousy man in the corner spoke up for the first time.
Genma frowned. “Did that lazy boy run away again? Well, I better get going. Have to go find Ranma and make sure the lazy runt isn’t slacking off on his training.”
The two tough looking guys smirked down at Genma. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.”
Nodoka had just hanged up the phone, having called the press to set up the interview and let them know of her desire to become an activist for children, when it rang again.
“Hello, Nodoka Saotome speaking,” she greeted into the handset. Inside, she was always a little nervous each time the phone ranged. There had been more then a few irate or crank calls.
A calm, professional voice responded, “Hello, Mrs. Saotome. This is Detective Fujishawa, I am the officer in charge of your son’s case. We’re calling to let you know of some new news we just learned. We have yet to find human remains, and forensic studies of the contents of your husband’s stomach and fecal matter do not show the presence of any human flesh. Under questioning, you husband hadn’t admitted to eating your son, and while his honesty is still in doubt, the polygraph test supports him. We believe, or at least strongly hope, that your son was never killed ... at least not deliberately. We’re still searching for him, alive or dead. We have expanded our investigation from places where a dead body could be hidden to also places a child might run away to. Considering what your husband claims to have had in mind, I don’t blame your son for running away after escaping that pit. We think he got away and is hiding somewhere or someone found him. He probably is not aware that his father had been arrested. We will be putting out the usual missing child alert and will be holding a press conference soon to spread the word. We will be using all available resources to find your son. We just thought you would like to know that your son may still be alive, but we don’t want to get your hopes up too much yet.”
“Th-thank you, officer. That is good news.” Nodoka began to cry. “Please keep me posted if you have any more news.”
“Sure thing, ma’am. Hopefully, the next time I call, it will be to tell you we found your son.”
“Thank you again, bye.”
Nodoka wiped her eyes. She would have a lot to say, and plead, on her interview. ‘I better go get ready, I must look like a wreck. Oh, I hope my Ranma comes home to me.’ She hurried off for a quick bath and to change into more formal clothes.
“It’s believed that my son is still out there. So I beseech everyone watching this, please return my son to me.” The news had again switch over to the most recent photo of Ranma that Nodoka had.
The TV was clicked off as the undercover officer sat back down in the chair. He was keeping an eye in the waiting room as his uniformed peers kept Genma’s room under heavy security. They were not as worried about someone sneaking in to do him harm, they’d support that even if they had to protect Genma as part of their job. Genma had pissed off a lot of people, more then any other man has ever managed. The security was more to keep Genma from escaping before he could face a trial. Even without the death of his son, they still found more then enough crimes to charge him with, including some he himself admitted under questioning.
‘What kind of man takes pride in killing an old man by dynamiting him in a cave? Even if the person in question was a public nuisance. He should of turned him over to the police. Justice is for the courts, not to be taken into hand by citizens.’
Not too mention, his list of offenses included probable child abuse, thievery, reckless parenting, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, as well as crimes he committed in his youth with his master and friend. The police were digging deep into Genma’s past. It is a shame Soun Tendo seemed to have skip the country. He seemed to have turned his life around for the better, and he’d probably get amnesty and a sealed file if he helped put Genma away.
Checking his watch, he sighed as he saw how much more time he had left on his shift. Genma was sedated, so it was unlikely he would be able to escape. Nerve damage to his left hand would keep him from being able to close it fully and gave him a weak grip. He would have a noticeable limp as he walked. And, the lightening strike seemed to have made him incontinent.
The officer snorted. ‘Another criminal who’ll get to live the easy life in prison, too injured to do any work detail. I can’t believe the taxpayers’ money is being used to keep men like him fed and clothed and comfortable. The only good thing, if his son is ever found, is he won’t be an influence in his son’s life any longer. I hate to think what kind of felon he was raising.’
Thinking of what he saw on the news, his expression softened. ‘What a woman, his wife is. To find her trust in her husband to be so abused. Did she know how long he would be away? Did she think he would take so long? Did she worry, but got regular notices that it’ll take a bit longer? Did she get phone calls or postcards? Did they start to come farther and farther apart? To go from her abused trust and the embarrassment of having one’s dirty laundry aired in public, to the fiery woman on the news. To sit there and answer questions and proclaim that she won’t let what happened to her son happen again to anyone else’s. To admit to failing as a mother, and that she would work to earn her son back by tirelessly crusading for the rights of children. What a woman!’
Soun Tendo relaxed in the seat of the airliner, currently flying well over the Pacific. His wife sat in the row to the left with his eldest two daughters. He sat on the other side of the aisle with his youngest. His children were currently sleeping and his wife was dozing a bit. Soun’s mind wandered to how they would manage to make this work. He had pulled some strings to get a flight so quickly, leaving the day after hearing the horrid news. He arranged for a neighbor to keep an eye on his home, and for the police to patrol by occasionally. It was expensive, but here he was, with his life savings and family, jetting off to a foreign country. He knew his money would go quickly if he couldn’t find a job. Just getting a place to stay would be expensive, he feared. He had gotten the contact info for a man who ran a dojo in Los Angeles. A fellow from Tokyo that still kept in touch with his family there. Fortunately, another councilman had put Soun in touch with the family. Soun was thinking of helping out teaching in the American dojo until he could start his own. In a week or two, with help, he could probably find a place to buy. He was worried about what the American neighborhoods were like. Once he started his own business, Anything Goes would of come to America. That thought made him happy.
‘Wouldn’t it be great, to have spread the schools influence overseas. Even if they are heathens who can’t appreciate the true beauty of Anything Goes, the school would of grown and spread.’
Soun may have been nervous and anxious, but he was also excited.
‘The kids were a little upset, but they will get over it. This could be the opportunity I made it out to be, and not just a way to hide out.’
Nodoka just arrived at her home when she noticed the nice car in front of it and the man in the suit by her door.
“Mrs. Saotome?” The suited man asked as he bowed.
Nodoka bowed in return. “Yes, I am Mrs. Saotome.”
“Good evening. Sorry to impose upon you like this,” the man greeted. “The emperor and empress sent me to invite you to an audience with them, tomorrow. They are aware of recent events and have seen your interview on the news. They are very hopefully that you would accept their invitation to tea. A car will be sent around to pick you up at about 3:00 O’Clock PM. I need not remind you to dress for the occasion.”
“Th-thank you,” Nodoka stammered out. “I’ll be honored to attend.”
The man gave her a curt nod before returning to the car. “The emperor and his wife look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Good night, Mrs. Saotome.” He then got into the back of the car which promptly drove off.
Nodoka watched the car drive away, stunned and reeling from the recent shock.
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See other episodes by Errol Peregrinus
(Posted Wed, 28 May 2008 21:32)
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