The second of my constituent parts was an android named Tsubaki. Camelia flower was the name’s true meaning, also known as the ‘warrior’s bad luck’. Violence was a part of her programming. As was loyalty She listened to how the crowd chanted her name: Tsubaki! Tsubaki! Tsubaki! They shouted it with mouths full of bloodlust and a promise of generous winnings. Everywhere she looked she saw them and their frenzied eyes, fists pumping in the air, their scent of sweat and booze and blood. All of them, every one, looking at her. Tsubaki never appreciated the poetry of the name she was given—the quietly tragic scattering of Tsubaki petals. She was anything but delicate, but her mentor was a very traditional man, and he enjoyed poetry. She could not think of any other reason why he would have given her a name to begin with.
Crack. Tsubaki’s opponent in the ring was a brawny android named Sozen. He smashed her in the side of the head with a skull-shattering right hook. Tsubaki toppled sideways, waves of static bleeding over her dark eyes, but she moved her feet, graceful like a dancer, and kept herself upright. Droplets of clear-blue nanogel seeped from her split eyebrow, and she wiped them away with her fingers.
Sozen sagged forwards, sweat glossy on his skin. Androids sweat to regulate heat much the same as humans do, though it also makes for a more immersive show. His cocky smile showed perfect white teeth, an attitude that had been reprogrammed into him. Confidant fighters stirred up the crowd. They were good for showbusiness. But when he fought on and on without restraint, he became naïve to the limitations of his own body. He was old news, made of the same stuff as Tsubaki but weaker in mind.
Sozen tested the waters, a quick left jab and then another. Tsubaki dipped away each time. She let Sozen gain ground, and when he feinted a third jab only to lunge forward with a mighty left hook Tsubaki swung her body around the blow and closed the gap between them to deliver two hard punches to his ribs, followed by an upper-cut to the jaw, executed with precision and force. The crowd erupted in a ground-trembling uproar, which only added fire to Sozen’s irritation.
Tsubaki beckoned him with a wave, anticipating a reckless advance. Despite her teasing, she failed to avoid every one of his blows. She had to admit that Sozen was a skilled fighter, but he lacked control, likely due to a deliberate tampering to make him more unpredictable. She dodged blow after blow, her feet barely touching the ground as she watched his eyes for clues to his next attack. She couldn’t feign fatigue like she would if her opponent were human—they both had enough energy to fight for days—but she could take advantage of his overconfidence. She brushed the back of her hand against his wrist and diverted his attack, stepped around him, and letting his momentum do most of the work, delivered just enough force in the right position of his back to throw him hard against the wall of the ring. Sozen’s head rolled deliriously on his shoulders for only a moment before he shook himself back into focus. He sprang at Tsubaki and wrapped hefty arms around her waist in a low tackle, lifting her into the air. Tsubaki gripped his chest tight with her legs to keep him from throwing her, then shifted her balance and brought them both tumbling down—Sozen hitting the ground in a messy pile of limbs while Tsubaki rolled along the floor and sprang to her feet, all to another thunderous applause.
Sozen’s nostrils flared and his cheeks puffed with every desperate exhalation. An analysis revealed that some biocomponent had been damaged in the fall. Tsubaki saw in his eyes that he perceived the ticking clock that marked the end of this fight, and that it would take brute strength alone for him to emerge victorious. She scanned every movement, every flicker of the eye, every twitch of a finger. He lashed at her with close quick jabs, more than one of them landing sharp and disorienting. Tsubaki waited until Sozen lunged a fraction too far on his right leg, exposing his knee, then she drove her foot into his kneecap, and the leg buckled. Still, he refused to go down. He caught her next punch and clumsily pushed her away. With substantial damage to his leg as well as impaired balance and focus due to failing biocomponents, Sozen had lost any advantage. He tried to clutch both of Tsubaki’s ears and throw her head down. She knocked his hands away and aimed a heave kick at his lower torso, launching him onto his backside. From there she watched him carefully as he rolled onto his side and began to stand. The fight had ended. Programming alone compelled Sozen to endure. With a running start Tsubaki delivered a final kick to his chest, from which he did not get up.
Tsubaki stumbled slowly out of the ring and all around her a rabble of men and women glared at their phones to place fresh bets. She approached Hato, the fight coordinator, to receive her cut.
“You said you’d pay extra for making it interesting,” Tsubaki reminded her.
“I did,” Hato replied sternly, “and you destroyed him. One of my best fighters.”
“Your man wouldn’t stay down,” Tsubaki interjected. “I had to work for that win.”
She had quickly learned the extent of human resilience, that they were simultaneously frail, temporary things, and also remarkably stubborn. Hope was one of their more intriguing qualities.
“Watch your tone,” said Hato dismissively, now eyeing the tablet in her hands. “Here.” She transferred some extra money into Tsubaki’s account. “Buy yourself a drink.”
The fighting rings were adjacent to the main lounge, a shabby, dimly lit room that remained quiet while the fights were on, which gave Tsubaki a few moments to drink alone. One or two guests stood nearby and talked business while a lone man stared into his drink under a buzzing neon sign encased in a hanging sphere of vibrant cigarette smoke. Tsubaki placed herself down at the bar and signalled for the barkeep to bring her the usual. Alcohol flowed through her system like water. She drank to maintain a persona. For an android, she had a peculiar relationship with whisky. The drink had a way of drawing her in, because even a machine as cold as her could feel its warmth. Whisky made her position as a crime syndicate prize fighter more believable. No one cared about androids like her; that was freeing, it made her invisible, it granted her access to certain valuable assets. Her shorts and top reeked of nanogel and sweat, and she intended to change as soon as she had taken a moment to unwind.
“I had a lot of money placed on the other guy.” Shay Ueda, the informant, placed himself down on the stool beside Tsubaki and lit a cigarette while the barkeep poured an extra drink.
“One for your troubles,” said Tsubaki.
She wasn’t yet sure of her analysis of Shay. She eyed him discreetly as he knocked back his drink, and watched his orange-tinted sunglasses flare a bright yellow as they caught the reflection of the overhead lights, a stark contrast to his greasy black hair, slick with product, and the subtle smudges of tiredness under his dark eyes. A lot of people found him charming, handsome even, with his sharp jawline and dimpled smile, and the traces of tattoos that showed under his collar and on his wrists from time to time.
“You always drink alone?” Shay asked.
“Do you always annoy lonely women?”
“As much as I enjoy annoying you, this isn’t a social drink.”
“I’d hope not.” Tsubaki turned and leaned against the top of the bar. Shay placed down a small silver thumb drive, and she collected it and twirled it in her fingers.
“It wasn’t easy to get that.” Shay rubbed his nose and glanced briefly over his shoulder. “You better make this worth my while. Do you know what these people do to traitors?”
“I’m aware. What Khaganate promised you will be delivered—you have my word.”
“You’re lucky I like you, and for some stupid reason I believe you.”
“As an asset to this investigation I have been instructed to keep you alive and unharmed. Thank you for trusting me. I promise no harm will come to you.”
“It’s not just me that I’m worried about.” Shay gulped down his drink. “You tell your boss that if he wants any more intel, he’ll put a security detail on Suzume—a human security detail, none of that android bullshit, no offense.”
“How could I not be offended by that?”
“I just want her protected, okay? Until this is done.”
Tsubaki nodded. “Of course. What did you find out from the last job? Was my theory correct?”
“It was. The Akiyama gang have taken up wildlife trafficking, anything rare, critically endangered, high market value.”
“What about their androids?”
“All stolen.” Shay put his cigarette down and started idly folding a napkin. “They nab them from worksites, anywhere with surpluses, usually pretty far afield.”
“Where do the animals come from?”
Shay gestured to the thumb drive in Tsubaki’s hand. “This is actually pretty cool. It’s all related to something called Inari. That thumb drive contains a list of targets, genetic material for cloning, animal embryos, I think. Do you know anything about it? Does this Inari belong to Khaganate?” When he moved his hands, he revealed the napkin to be folded into a crane.
“Need-to-know,” Tsubaki told him. “But thank you, this information is very useful, I’ll get it to Takeshi as soon as I can.”
“Tell him hi for me, will you? And tell him to crack a smile, the old man is as gloomy as you are.”
Tsubaki replied with a nod. “Until next time, Shay.”
She stood up and made her way out of the lounge. The female locker rooms where she had left her clothes were empty and starkly quiet against the wall of noise coming from the fighting ring nearby. First, she observed the cuts that marred the pale skin of her brows and cheeks in the mirror. She was a tall woman, lean but muscular, built for fighting and discretion alike. Anyone might have placed her for a military person by her posture alone. She spoke little, and smiled even less. Her jet-black hair and dark eyes were designed for intimidation.
Nanogel didn’t dry as quickly as human blood, and so tiny dark droplets still leaked from the wound when she rubbed the scab away, but a quick diagnostic reported that she had suffered little internal damage. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, running scalding hot water over her body for only a few seconds, then she dried off, glued her cuts, and dressed herself in the dark suit she had stashed in her locker.
The night air outside was cool and dry and the streetlamps had painted the sidewalk a fiery orange. Inside her car Tsubaki called Takeshi and reported on the events of the night, from the progress of her infiltration into the Akiyama family, to the intelligence she had gathered from Shay, as well as his request to have extra security allocated to his sister.
“Let me see it,” Takeshi demanded. He, like Tsubaki, was a man of very few words.
Tsubaki plugged the thumb drive into her phone. “Uploading the data-file to you now, sir.”
“So, the Akiyama family are targeting Inari,” Takeshi mused, and seemed to trail off for a moment. “Good. Return here and debrief.”
“Yes sir.”
He ended the call. Tsubaki could expect no greater praise from her mentor, because she was nothing more than a machine in his eyes. This was her life. She was a tool, a weapon. She started the engine and began the long route back to Khaganate’s headquarters in Kakushin.
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