Gatekeepers 21 Fan Fiction ❯ Tokyo Knight ❯ Tokyo ( Chapter 2 )

Part II: Tokyo

My training began after breakfast the next morning. I envisioned a door opening in my head and felt Galahad's presence return. He began by having me summon his armour and sword. Then I removed the armour, after which he taught me the names of each plate: pauldron, vambrace, cuisse, and dozens more. The plates were plain polished steel, very angular and incredibly light for their thickness. This was due to enchantments laid on the metal during its forging, according to Galahad.

After about half an hour, Galahad began to teach me how to wield the sword: how to hold it, how to draw it, how to defend myself, and how to attack. He demonstrated each move with my muscles, which made it much easier to imitate his actions. After another two hours or so, Galahad taught me how to don the armour unaided-I had no squire to help me- and I returned it through the Gate.

I had lunch in the hotel restaurant-roast duck and stir-fried vegetables-and returned to my room to pack for the trip to Tokyo. Three mid-sized suitcases were all we'd brought with us; the rest had been shipped ahead to storage. I learned later that I'd forgotten my towel in the bathroom.

I took an evening train, one early enough to arrive in Tokyo at a decent hour, but late enough to be relatively empty. I spent the trip reading the portions of Mallory's Morte d'Arthur that dealt with Launcelot and Elaine, Galahad's mother; Galahad's life; and the quest for the Grail. My uncle met me on the platform and drove me to his home, a rather small seventh floor apartment in a gleaming high-rise. He was somewhat shorter than my father, about my height, though he had broader shoulders than his brother, and a thin mustache and thinning black hair. My aunt met us at the door; she was a petite woman with long black hair and bright eyes. We moved the suitcases into a small room (it turned out to be my two younger cousins'-the twins had moved into my other cousin's room). I didn't feel right kicking them out like that, but I couldn't do anything about it until after the funeral.

The funeral took place on Thursday, two days after I arrived. All three of my surviving grandparents (my paternal grandfather had passed away several years ago) flew in, along with a multitude of friends, great-aunts and -uncles, and cousins of various degrees. The ceremony was quiet and brief, with everyone paying their respects to the urn afterwards. The banquet that night was prodigious and followed by seemingly endless rounds of toasts. Many of my relatives seemed intent on drowning their grief-or sampling all the fine spirits they couldn't afford themselves. By the time it broke up, they were too far gone to notice that I'd joined in. I regretted it in the morning: hung-over people are not good company for breakfast, especially when one is a fellow sufferer.

I managed to get my uncle alone on Saturday. 'I want to thank you for your hospitality, but I don't feel right staying here. Don't get the wrong idea: You're all great people, and I've enjoyed staying with you. It's just that…well, your place is kinda small for five people to share. I know Erin (my eldest cousin, two years my junior) won't complain, but I'm not comfortable with forcing her to room with Calvin and Kevin.'

He replied gently, 'I understand. We'll get you your own place. I hope you can find a home close to ours. Family should stay close at times like this.' By Monday, I'd settled on a two-room, one-bath apartment a few miles away listed at 186000 yen a month ($1400 US). An hour of fast talking got my name on the lease on Wednesday; my uncle arranged for me to draw the rent and a modest monthly stipend ($1500) from my trust fund.

The odd girl I'd met in Osaka came by on Tuesday. My aunt answered the door and called me. The girl handed me about 55,000 yen and left without a word. After she left, my aunt asked me, 'Who was that? And what was that money for?'

I thought quickly. 'She's just someone I met my last night in Osaka. I took her side in an argument in a club. Some point of movie trivia; I don't even remember what it was. The other guy snapped and asked us to put money on it; he was confidant-or stupid- enough to offer us ten-to-one odds, too. We put up 5500 apiece. It turned out we were right when we asked the bartender to look it up, but he didn't have the money on him. He said he'd pay up later if we went by his place. After he left, I told the girl that I was leaving for Tokyo the next day and that I couldn't go with her to collect. She said that she was coming here, too, and that she would bring me my share, so I gave her your address.' My aunt seemed to buy the story.

My parents had sent most of our furniture and other belongings into storage in Osaka before we'd left the States. I found an inventory in Mom's suitcase and spent Thursday drawing up a list of what I needed: bed; TV; computer; desk; couch; a few chairs; phones; lights; our knives, pots, pans, and silverware; and a hundred other odds and ends. On Friday, I made arrangements for those items to be shipped to my new apartment Monday afternoon; the rest were to be moved to storage in Tokyo. They were half an hour late, but we managed to set everything up pretty quickly.

My new home was on the tenth floor and the door opened on a living room with a large window at the opposite end. A small kitchen with a gas stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher was to the left as I walked in. On the right was a small space opening on three rooms: bedrooms on either side and the bathroom in the center. The bedroom on the left (as one faced the bathroom) was a bit larger than the other and also had a large window, but not much of a view. I chose that room as my own; the other room would serve as a library or general storage space. I placed my desk under the window, flanked by bookshelves. A dresser stood on the door's right side, with the bed behind it against the right-hand wall. Between them was a small nightstand, on which I kept a phone and an alarm clock. My closet was almost non-existent, but so was my wardrobe.

The only cable outlet was on the wall dividing the living room from my bedroom, so the TV had to be there. The couch stood opposite the TV, and a couple of armchairs formed a short arc on either side. A second phone hung above the kitchen counter. I put a pair of barstools under the counter. The living room was too small for our old dining table so I left the center of the room empty for the time being.

The bathroom had a speaker/microphone on either side of the door. The room was almost completely soundproof otherwise. The tub was about four feet long by two wide by three deep; a showerhead jutted from the wall above the faucet.

After setting up my furniture and unpacking a few things, I went out to buy groceries and the thousand other things needed to run a home, including adaptors for my American appliances. There was a large supermarket several blocks away, and a small fruit store a bit closer. I also bought a kotatsu, a small folding table with a heater and blanket underneath.

I checked my mailbox after training Tuesday morning, more to get used to its location than because I expected anything. To my surprise, I had a letter from the company my parents had worked for. Mr. Yamamoto, the head of the Tokyo office, wanted to see me as soon as possible. I called the office to make an appointment for 1PM Wednesday.

The Company's offices were in a downtown high-rise across the street from a large bank. I handed my guns to the receptionist (the letter had instructed me to bring them) and she sent me in after a brief wait. Mr. Yamamoto was a short man, thin, middle-aged, and grey. He offered his condolences on my parents' death and then got down to business. 'As you probably know, our Company provides security for clients of all ages. The fastest growing segment of our clientele is the under-25 age group. These clients often request protection from younger agents. This is quite understandable; after all, a teenage starlet can hardly have an old man following her everywhere, no matter how good he is. However, we have very few agents under thirty; few people of that age are mature and dependable enough to be entrusted with another person's life. From your parents' reports about you, and your informal work for us in the past (I'd babysat for clients before, preventing at least one kidnapping attempt, and provided surveillance at several events), we believe that you have the potential to be one of our finest agents.'

'I don't know what to say, sir, other than "Thank you." But I have another year of high school left after this one, and Tategami High School's policies forbid students to hold jobs.'

'You will only be a provisional agent: part-time, paid by the job. Most of your assignments will be night events. After graduation, you will be properly trained to become a full agent. As for your school, we'll handle that if it comes up. Do you have any further questions?'

'Just one, sir: When do I start?'

'Immediately. We'll contact you when we have an assignment for you. Personnel has some paperwork for you to fill out, and Q-Division will issue your equipment. Your parents would be proud to know their son joined us so young.' He clasped my hand warmly; I bowed deeply, and left. The receptionist returned my guns and directed me to the Personnel office on the floor below. There, I received a tall stack of forms: health information, confidentiality agreement, liability waiver, loyalty oath, and others. I also received a security pass, Company ID, concealed weapons license (good in almost any country since the Company had deals with most major governments), and access information for the Company's computer network. Then I was sent off to Q-Division (no one ever used the official name, and I never learned it) to pick up my equipment.

Q-Division was run by a wizened little Japanese woman. I ran to embrace her when I recognized her. 'Aunt Yoko! How've you been lately?' She was one of my parents' closest friends and she'd always had an (un)healthy supply of candy for me.

'It's nice to see you, too, dear. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. My knees and back were giving me trouble again. Now, let's see what I've got for you.' She had half a dozen kiwi-sized grenades (the Company had occasional run-ins with organized crime and large gangs; the grenades helped level the playing field); spider-silk/Kevlar/ceramic plate body armour, light but very strong; a black suit; night-vision sunglasses (I didn't understand how they worked, but they did); a pager ('for Company use only. Don't give the number to anyone'); and several other gadgets. Finally, we stopped in front of a shelf of ammo boxes. She asked to see my guns and I handed them to her.

'I made these as their wedding present, you know: .50 caliber-some things just won't stop for anything less-composite-ceramic construction; they'll got right through any metal detector. I see you've taken good care of them.' She disassembled the weapons and cleaned them before returning them to me along with several boxes of bullets. As I left, I promised to visit her some time and gave her my new address.

A group of masked men with assault rifles and duffel bags burst out of the bank across the street as I walked out the door. Police sirens blared as officers blockaded both ends of the block. The gunmen opened fire as one of them started a Jeep. I dove behind a small Toyota and drew my father's gun. A bullet pierced the door inches from my head. I raised my head to peek through the broken windows. The police were pinned down behind their cars. The gunmen had climbed into the Jeep, but they seemed to be having trouble getting out of the parking space. One was shooting anything moving on the sidewalk, so escape was out of the question.

I crept behind the Toyota's trunk and slowly moved into a half-crouch with my gun on the trunk lid. I fired as the driver tried yet again to get on the road. His head exploded in a mist of blood and the Jeep crashed into the Nissan in front of it. I hit the ground as a gunman sprayed the area. His comrades kept firing on the police as one of them broke into another car. I peeked through the broken windows again and saw the man who'd been shooting at me half-turn to give his companions an all-clear signal. I fired and blood sprayed from his back as the bullet pierced his body. Another burst of bullets tore through the Toyota. One hit me in the chest; it felt like the proverbial falling ton of bricks. I saw a SWAT team charge the gunmen as I went down. By the time I got up, it was over: two robbers dead, three wounded, and one arrested.

Two officers approached me. 'Thanks for the help…. Hey, you're just a kid!' exclaimed one. His partner picked up my gun.

'You got a license for this?'

It was painful to breath, much less talk, but I replied, 'Here it is.' I pulled my Company credentials from my inside breast pocket.

'What're you trying to pull? These can't be real!' I pointed out that we could check my story inside. We went in and handed my papers to the receptionist.

'Yes, officer, he's one of ours. If it's not too much trouble, please take him to the infirmary-fifth door on the right.' The receptionist pointed down the hall. The doctors examined me and said that nothing was broken, though I had a nasty bruise on my chest. The officers then took my statement about the robbery and promised to preserve my anonymity. My body armour was taken as evidence and Aunt Yoko sent up a new suit.

When I got home, I offered Athena an 8oz steak and a bottle of Scotch in thanks for my survival. She was understanding about the short meat supply in Japan, but She insisted on large offerings of alcohol. Dinner was Ramen and peaches. Galahad went a little lighter on my training for a couple days because of my injury.

I bought five sets of my new school uniforms on Thursday; the grey jackets fit fine even with a holster underneath, but the maroon ties were hideous. I also got a haircut and a new cell phone-my American model wasn't compatible with the Japanese network.

I decided to check out the local nightlife Friday. There were a few clubs nearby, but none were worth going to. I had nothing else to do, so I wandered around for a few hours. Eventually, I found myself in an empty park. I sat down under a large tree to rest before heading back. I talked to Galahad for a while, asking about what the real Round Table had been like. He left after about a quarter hour, saying <When next thou openst the Gate, thou wilt meet thine other ally.>

I was getting up to leave when I heard the hollow voices of Invaders chanting, 'Eliminate the Gatekeeper. Eliminate….' A legion of the beige-coated beings surrounded me with their guns out. I tried to call Leo, but it felt different this time-I felt like I was the source of the heat. When the light passed, I was definitely not wearing Leo. Screens surrounded my head with displays of the park and various readings that meant nothing to me. The view appeared to be from eyes several inches taller than my own. I looked down to see what weapons came with the suit, but there was only a series of cylindrical bulges around the waist. How the hell am I supposed to fight without weapons?!

[They say you can rest after you die. Lying bastards.] The half-awake voice that answered me seemed to belong to another Englishman, though his voice was oddly familiar beneath the accent. The Invaders opened fire. [Are you going to fight or just stand there?]

I'd fight if I had anything to fight with! Who are you, anyways? [Time for introductions later. Scorpio here responds to your movements and your thoughts…hmmmmm, you're only 73% compatible. High, but not high enough to really use it.] He directed my attention to a gauge with a brain beside it.

Why don't you take control since it's your armour? I stepped aside and gave him control. The gauge jumped to 86%. [A bit lower than usual, but it should do. Alright. Now, then…] 'Die!' He thrust out the left arm, palm out. I felt power gather within us. The air glowed red and a few sparks jumped from the hand, but nothing more happened. [Shit! I don't have my full powers in this state. Guess we'll just do this the old-fashioned way.]

He sprang into the air and hovered above the Invader horde. He extended the right arm with the fist clenched at a downward angle. A stubby tube about an inch wide extended from above the wrist. He brought the left arm across the chest, and a tall, slightly curved rectangular shield unfolded from a bulge on the forearm to cover the body. The Invaders' shots reflected from the shield and tore holes in the turf. The spirit fired a stream of incandescent explosive red bolts from the right arm. Then he retracted gun and shield and extended a pair of straight two-foot blades from both wrists. He dove into the horde, spinning, stabbing, and slashing with incredible speed. I noticed that he commanded the armour by imagining what he wanted it to do: it spun when he thought of it spinning, and extended the blades when he 'saw' it in his mind's eye. A few minutes later, the grass was littered with crystals and severed limbs.

[Nice workout. Shame it was so short, though.] A powerful blast knocked me over before he finished speaking. I rolled and slowly climbed to my feet. An armoured behemoth was rumbling down the path. Its shape was vaguely like a tank's, but it had cannon mounted haphazardly at every angle. The turret carried a gun with a bore of at least two feet. I gave the spirit control again. [That thing's too big to take directly with what we have. But it must have a weak point.]

The screens flickered between a dozen false-colour images of the scene before me. They stopped at one that revealed a dark mass deep within the machine connected to the rest of it by winding tendrils. [That's probably the brain or the heart. If we take it out, the whole thing should die.] One screen shifted to a three-dimensional display of the tank, highlighting its armour and weapons. [The armour's thinner on top, so we'll attack from above.]

He leapt high above the tank and pulled on of the cylinders from the waist. A sharp shake turned it into a ten-foot spear. He dove and the spear sank deep into the turret, piercing the 'brain' underneath. The cannons began to fire convulsively in all directions, but I was in a blind spot.

'Ayaaaaaaaannnnnneeeeeeee!' A high, whiny voice cut through my skull. I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a flying schoolgirl with a disk of green light beneath her feet. She appeared to be dropping a series of small objects as she dodged the dying tank's cannon fire.

'You'd think she'd be used to it by now.' I caught a second girl's voice, deeper and farther away. A number of readings suddenly spiked. [Oh, shit! Ventral thrusters, emergency power!]

The thrusters kicked harder than the bullet I'd caught earlier. I was blasted backwards off the tank, barely outrunning a geyser of flame. I landed to find two girls picking up the field of crystals the tank and Invaders had left behind. One was about my natural height with a round face, large brown eyes, and brown hair hanging in a long braid. The other was shorter and paler with large glasses, brown eyes, and short dark hair. An open laptop glowed on a nearby rock.

I didn't bother to retract my helm (not that I knew how at the time) before shouting, 'Don't you look before planting bombs?! You almost got me killed!'

'Those weren't bombs. They were imitation Gates; more specifically, Gates of Explosion,' replied the shorter girl in a deadpan voice.

'Sorry about that. Guess I didn't see you.' The brunette turned out to own the terrible voice I'd heard earlier. She nervously scratched her head and laughed. 'I'm Miu Manadzuru, and this is Ayane Isuzu. Pleased to meet you.' She held out her hand.

I introduced myself and shook her hand gingerly, as I was unsure about the armour's strength. Ayane just looked at me oddly and said, 'I suppose you deserve a share of the bounty for this. One-third?'

'Of course.' I asked the spirit to count the crystals; the sensors picked up about 450. I gave Ayane my address so she could bring me the money later; she took it down on her cell phone. I flew off clumsily and removed the armour in the nearest alley.

I decided to have a chat with my new ally when I got home. Who are you?

[I am Alexander de Winter mar'Jaddo, Knight of the Seventh Seal and the Winged Dragoon of Sidonia.] The name surprised me, but I quickly dismissed it as a coincidence. I asked him what the titles meant. [Several years ago, a portal opened in the deserts of western China. A demonic horde poured through that took two years to drive back. At the last battle, seven knights, each a powerful mage of a different school of magic, sealed the portal. I was one of the Seven.

As for the other, Sidonia is one of the Thousand Kingdoms of Morsinia. The Dragoons were its elite force of knights trained to jump into the rear of enemy lines and destroy their reserves. Each Dragoon had some distinctive mark for recognition on the field. Some had painted armours: the Gold Dragoon, the Black Dragoon, the Crimson Dragoon, and so on. Others wore crests or bore painted shields: the Dragoon of the Lion or the Phoenix or some other creature. I had wings of black fire, hence the name of Winged Dragoon.] So what kind of powers do you have? You tried to do some magic back there, didn't you?

[It seems that I've lost most of what power I had, so there's no reason to list them. However, I can still perceive things hidden from most humans: I can see across the full electromagnetic spectrum from radio to gamma rays, and I can feel the flows of many types of magical energy. Also, Scorpio can fly and it will give you the strength of twenty men.] We talked a bit more, but he didn't say much about himself or his past. Finally, I closed the Gate and went to bed.

Notes: If you didn't catch it, the narrator is male. It's not easy to make that clear when writing in first person and I apologize for any confusion I may have caused.

About the fact that he's living alone: I don't know how common this may or may not be in the real Japan, but it makes sense and sets up some of the later plot. Remember: suspension of disbelief cannot be selective. You either believe everything I write is true in the context of this story or none of it is. Similarly, the rents I quote are probably a bit on the low side for a major city.

The Company he works for is your basic secretive and well-armed 'Men in Black' outfit. Again, suspension of disbelief at their hiring a high school student. Same thing about the shootout.

Alex de Winter is the main character from my other major fic (Requiem Knight…and I swear this is the last time I'll plug it). However, this is an alternate version of him, one who died in his second battle with Kylos (don't worry if you don't understand what I'm talking about; just skip to the next note). The "mar'Jaddo" just indicates that he married into House Jaddo. His powers are more or less the same as the 'original' Alex's, but his past is slightly different.

The narrator's name is NOT 'Alex de Winter.' He's surprised for another reason.

You probably noticed that the battle with the Invaders sounded a bit strange. That's intentional. It probably feels kinda odd to have someone else controlling your limbs as you watch.

As you probably noticed, I don't like Miu's voice from the anime (dubbed version). Which is why she probably won't be showing up much in the rest of this fic.

I've made a few immaterial tweaks to the chronology, just to make a few things work:

1)The events of the OVA occurred during Ayane and Miu's 10th grade year (1st year in high school in Japan);

2)This fic takes place a year later;

3)Satoka is a year older than the other two Gatekeepers; she is in the 12th grade now;

4)The narrator is the same age as Satoka, but he's in the 11th grade (international transfers often have trouble with credit for courses and missing courses required for graduation…I have a friend graduating a year late because of that).

Again, much as I wish I could shoot like this guy, he is not based on me at all except for a few minor details.

Answers to things reviewers have said:

RVD, The Company the narrator's parents worked for is NOT AEGIS. It's a security outfit that caters to the extremely wealthy…providing bodyguards, rescuing kidnapping victims, recovering stolen property, destroying compromising documents of a personal nature (the Company will not attempt to shield clients from the law), etc. Also, Alex is definitely not Medieval; read my other fic for more details. Galahad, of course, is from the Middle Ages.

Aloofmonkey, Scorpio is a highly advanced power armour…robotic, as you said, at least in part. Think the original Starship Troopers.

Sorry for the delay in updating, but I haven't gotten much time to type lately…plenty to write, but little computer time. The third chapter will be up after a week or two.

Next chapter: Classes start at Tategami High.