"Indiana Jones-hakase…!" Kasumi breathed out.
Nabiki grinned. "The very man. Born in 1899 in Princeton in New Jersey. Son of a professor of medieval literature who got his degree from Oxford University and later became the world's leading expert on the story of the Holy Grail, the cup that was used by Jesus Christ at the Last Supper before his crucifixion; some legends actually state that the Grail was also used to capture his blood as he died." She shook her head. "Became a professor of archaeology at Marshall College — these days, it's a full university — in Connecticut in the early 1930s. But he had acquired quite the reputation as a finder of lost things for years prior to that." A pause. "He served in the American Army during World War Two, ended up being part of the Office of Strategic Services and was promoted to the rank of colonel before he got out. Later got involved with the CIA in the early part of the Cold War."
"I assume Jones-hakase has passed away," the elder daughter noted.
"No. And that's the incredible part. He's still alive — retired, of course — and lives near his old school. He's professor emeritus of archaeological studies at Marshall University; he also has lectured elsewhere."
Kasumi's eyes widened. "But that would make him…"
"A hundred-and-ten years old. Onê-chan, we know a pair of people who would consider a guy like Ranma's great-granddad a spring chicken."
A giggle. "That's true." A hum. "How could he have lived so long…?"
"Good question."
Yokota Air Base, on the borders between Fussa, Musashimurayama, Hamura and Mizuho (25 kilometres west of Nerima), that moment…
"Professor Jones, on behalf of the Fifth Air Force, welcome to Yokota."
The past-middle aged man — now descending the boarding ramp of the C-20J Gulfstream IV that had just landed at the headquarters airfield of the American air division currently assigned to augment the aerospace defence of Japan under applicable treaties — was dressed semi-formally. This was his "teaching outfit": the tweed suit, vest, button shirt, tie and polished Oxford shoes that he always wore when he was in the lecture hall, even now, years after his official retirement from the staff at Marshall. Of course, his beloved Australian-style fedora hat with the Petersham brow was on his head; it never left him no matter what he did, either in the class or in the field. An overnight bag was being carried by a female senior airman behind him. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he tried not to grin too much at the lieutenant-general who commanded 5 AF, now saluting him. But that was to be expected.
The blue hexagonal rosette on his collar, it decorated with thirteen white stars, always drew the sharp eye of any serving member of the American armed forces.
With that, the newcomer returned the salute with a smile. "Thank you, General. I was told that transportation was arranged for me ahead of time."
"Yes, sir! The car is waiting close by. Plain car, just like you asked."
A nod; he was trying desperately NOT to blush at all this tomfoolery that had been laid out for him at the direct order of the President of the United States of America. Whom he still remembered as a university sophomore student in economics (minoring in history) attending a lecture he had been invited to make at Boston College years ago. "Excellent. But before I get to the car, would you mind if I go somewhere to change?"
A smile. "Yes, sir!" He pointed over to the nearest hangar. "The guards there will show you the exact place to go, Professor."
A salute. "Thank you again, General."
With that, he walked to the hangar, where two Security Forces security specialists — what they used to call "military policemen" (or less-flattering terms) back in the old days — were standing guard. Both men came to attention and saluted as he came up. "Washroom?" the professor asked as he returned the salute.
One of the MPs smiled. "Right this way, sir!"
He was led inside the washroom, located alongside the southern wall of the hangar. As soon as the professor had gone inside and closed the door after him, the MP returned to his place beside his friend. "So who the hell was that guy?" the other MP whispered.
"See the rosette?" the first one asked.
A nod. "Who is he?"
A barely noticeable shrug. "Search me."
Minutes later, the door then opened, allowing Indiana Jones to step outside. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said as the MPs braced themselves to attention and saluted, both of their jaws now dropping in shock as they took in the sight of the professor from Marshall, now in his "field clothes": A-2 leather flight jacket, underlying brown T-shirt, a bag slung over his right shoulder strapped to a Mark VII British gas mask bag, worn canvas pants, red brown field shoes and his trusty whip coiled up and tied to his Sam Browne belt (with no pistol or holster, of course). And the fedora, of course.
By then, the senior airman — Shouldn't that be 'airwoman?' Indiana thought to himself — had come up to him. "I'll take your overnight bag, Professor."
"I'll come back for it when I can," Indiana said.
A sharp salute. "Yes, sir!"
They headed off. "Holy shit…!" one of the MPs breathed out. "Was that…?"
"Yeah. It was," the other MP affirmed with a nod.
"The guys back at the hut won't believe this!"
"I'm not sure I do, either!"
By then, Indiana had got to the car that was set aside for him, a plain silver Honda Accord. A driver, a local man dressed similarly to the fellows that worked for the Men In Black — without the Ray Bans — awaited him. "Professor Jones," he said with a deep bow, his English excellent. "Welcome back to Japan, sir. Please…"
He waved Indiana into the back seat of the vehicle, and then got into the driver's seat as soon as the archaeology professor was secured in his chair and buckled in. "Call us when you need us, sir," the senior airman said with a salute.
"I'll do that," Indiana promised. "Let's go," he said to the driver.
"Yes, sir."
The car went off. As the driver directed it towards the main gate at the east side of the base, which would lead onto a side street that would end at Prefecture Route 182 for the trip eastward to Nerima, he then said, also in English, "Professor, I bear messages from both the Emperor and the Prime Minister for you…"
"Excuse me, I do speak Japanese."
The driver perked. "And quite elegantly, I must confess, Jones-hakase. The messages from His Majesty and Kôga-daijin are in the pocket right in front of you."
"Arigatô," Indiana said as he reached into the pocket to draw out two envelopes made with the finest paper possible, one bearing the wax kamon of the Imperial Palace, the other the Office of the Prime Minister of Japan. Opening the first, he quickly scanned the note from Japan's head-of-state, written in the elegant style one would expect from the Son of Heaven. After taking in that note, he then secured it in his field bag as he read the note from the nation's head-of-government. Seeing what was there, he then shook his head. "Oh, my God…!" he breathed out in English.
"Is there something wrong, Jones-hakase?" the driver asked.
"Oh, it's the note from the Prime Minister," Indiana replied as he closed up the letter and moved to secure it in his field bag. "Jack arranged for all this? All I wanted to do is come here and meet my great-grandchild!"
"Your great-grandchild?" the driver gasped.
"Hai. I met his great-grandmother just before the war, when I was helping catalogue some Jômon era finds with colleges from Tôkyô and Keiô Universities. A beautiful woman, she was. Respectful of the old traditions yet willing and eager, in fact, to see how the knowledge of the West could help improve lives here in Japan." A smile as he recalled that innocent time. "I fell in love with her right then and there. Even visited a swordsmith to give her a katana done in the Masamune style. It was meant to be a wedding gift; her family was descent of minor-ranked samurai from before the Meiji Restoration and I wanted to give them something to help restore their sense of their own past." A sigh. "Unfortunately, one night sometime before I had to head back to Connecticut, the sake ended up flowing a little too much…"
"I see," the driver breathed out, immediately moving to intercede so that the professor didn't have to embarrass himself too much. "What happened to her, if I may ask?"
Indiana closed his eyes. "She died in the air raid on the tenth of March in 1945," he whispered, shaking his head. "I didn't even learn I had a grandson until after the war, when I came back here with the occupation forces to help restore everything and get the country back on my feet." A smile. "A real cute boy, he was."
"Is he still alive, sir?"
A shake of the head. "No. He passed away shortly after his fortieth birthday." A pause, and then the professor's dark blue eyes narrowed. "And if I'm not too late, I might just be able to save my granddaughter from the same fate."
The driver tensed. "I understand, sir. Do you know where she lives now?"
Indiana smirked. "Nerima-ku. The Tendô dôjô near Ôizumi Park, just southwest of the Ôizumi interchange on the Tôkyô Ring Road. With my great-grandson." A shrug. "Or my great-granddaughter. Depending on water temperature, of course."
Silence.
"Jones-hakase…!" the driver gasped. "You mean to say…?"
A nod, a light smile. He had got the reports from the local media while he had been flying in to Japan from Elmendorf Air Force Base outside Anchorage in Alaska. "Hai."
The driver nodded. "I understand, sir. I'll get you there right away!"
"Arigatô."
A half-hour later…
"Oh! We have a visitor."
Nodoka perked on hearing Kasumi's voice, and then she looked up from the television as the elder Tendô daughter walked out into the genkan to put on her outdoor shoes to see who it was. She turned back to gaze on the television, and then she perked on hearing rapid footfalls from the stairs. Looking over her shoulder, she then blinked on seeing a white-faced, wide-eyed Nabiki step into the living room. "Nabiki-chan, what is it…?" she demanded as she got to her feet, walking over…
…just as Kasumi came inside, immediately getting a pair of large slippers just as a man in a fedora hat, flight jacket, canvas slacks, field shoes and a coiled whip on one side, a carrying bag on the other, walked in.
Silence fell as Indiana Jones and Nodoka Saotome gazed on each other for the first time. The former blinked as a look of embarrassment briefly crossed his face, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head under the hat. Seeing that, Kasumi and Nabiki both found themselves giggling in delight; they had seen Ranma do that many times before when he got embarrassed at something. Noting that, the professor blinked before he chuckled, and then he reached up to doff his hat at the woman before him.
Noting that, Nodoka shuddered as a torrent of memories, both light and dark, flooded her mind from a childhood that at times seemed to make much sense, yet now just left her baffled. Finally being in the presence of the man who had — according to all the dark stories her great-grandparents had told her over the years — deflowered her beloved grandmother Miyami Saotome, leaving her alone and pregnant with a boy while he ran off back to his accursed homeland just before the Greater East Asia War began in earnest. Abandoning her to her damned fate when the B-29s of the Twentieth and Twenty-first Bomber Commands came in to destroy Tôkyô by fire on one May evening in 1945. The man who came back to steal away her own father Ichirô from his homeland, force him to live in the West and absorb their disgusting ways. A plot that was stopped, thank the gods, by her own great-grandparents, who forced him away at the point of the sword that was forged by a local swordsmith for the Saotome family to possess. And might have been stolen by that damned gaijin who had left Miyami alone with child had they married.
And yet…
Yet…
Still shuddering, Nodoka felt her eyes tear as she bowed deeply to him. "Ojii-sama, please forgive me. I have really no idea what to say to you right now."
Indiana took that in, and then he nodded. "Let's worry about that at another time, magomusume-chan," he said with a very tender smile, causing both Kasumi and Nabiki to blink at his eloquent Japanese. Not to mention make Nodoka gaze at him, her eyes wide with total surprise on his calling her "granddaughter." "But right now, I'm more concerned about Ranma. After all, encountering aliens who report that he was touched by an alien dragon of all things, I suspect, would make anyone's day."
"Before you do that, Jones-hakase, why don't you come in to have some tea?" Kasumi then said as she waved him inside. "You obviously just flew in, I believe."
"Right into Yokota," he confessed, nodding. "My eternal thanks, Tendô no Mae."
Kasumi's cheeks instantly turned tomato-red. "Oh, MY!"
Nabiki laughed as she walked over to escort him inside as Kasumi headed into the kitchen to prepare some tea. Nodoka remained in place, her eyes wide and both her heart and mind reeling from the shock of encountering her grandfather for the first time ever in her life. And to meet a man that was 110 years old — yet didn't look a day over sixty! — and seemed quite vigorous at that…
"Oh, dear…"
Her grandfather was…
Blushing, she immediately headed inside as we…
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(Posted Sat, 03 Oct 2009 03:46)
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