Tatari

By Brandon Grijalva

Takumi Tachibana is a young man from a high class aristocratic family in Japan, depressed at living a life of capitation, he finds refuge in a mysterious young girl and her friends.

Soon, Takumi finds himself in the middle of a secret, underground war between a race of demihumans known as the Tatari, and a religious military organization known as the Knights of the Holy Order.

Takumi must now choose, does he fight for freedom, destroying the world as it is now and create a new world for the Tatari to escape persecution? Or does he fight for his family and the people he cares about, and along the way try to solve a two-thousand year mystery involving the origin of the Tatari, and two fallen angels that have their own plans?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandon Grijalva
• Release date: Mar 10, 2012

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Tatari

By

Brandon Grijalva

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Brandon Grijalva on Smashwords

Tatari

Copyright © 2012 by Brandon Grijalva

Chapter 1 – Saturday, April 14th, 2012

It was raining the first time I met her. A cold, out of season spring shower, shortly after the start of my final year in high school. The rainy season was supposed to have stopped, thus why I found myself sans an umbrella. I scoffed, cursing my own lack of precognitive abilities. A chilling, yet thick and humid breeze came and graced over my face. A breeze that fell short to pierce the thick winter coat we were still forced to wear for the next few weeks, when we would finally be able to switch to our summer uniforms. I forced a grimace from my already grimaced face to create a sort of super-grimace.

She was Middle Eastern, or so I guessed, attractive all the same despite being overall quite plain. Which was odd in of itself as it was a Japanese school in a not particularly western Tokyo suburb, which meant the student body was, as to be expected, predominantly Japanese. I had never even seen her before. We weren't in the same class let alone the same year, as she was still a junior.

Still, standing next to her now it was hard to ignore her strikingly good looks. With her long, black hair shining in the gray, cloudy haze of the world around us, gently floating in the slight wind. Her deep, glittering violet eyes stared off into the void of the lifeless surroundings, taking in the world and judging nothing with even so much as an emotion in any degree. A stoic, silent expression made just standing next to her put me on edge.

We stood together for what seemed like an eternity under the breezeway of our school, overlooking the courtyard where other students must have gotten a memo warning them of the fore coming change in weather conditions. A memo mind you, which neither of us appeared to receive. My shoulders sagged in frustration as the silent dragged on me with an ironically deafening pressure. The young girl was the only person sharing my dismal and isolated world, so I was drawn to try saying something. Anything really, so long as it would break the uncomfortable silence that made me so...uncomfortable.

That was a normal reaction to such a situation, wasn't it? Would you not do the same? I convinced myself my paranoia and fourth-wall breaking affirmation was normal as I turned on my heel and put on my best nonchalant face.

Y-Yo... I trailed the word (although I suppose yo is more of a sound, isn't it.) in an absence of anything to follow it. Such an insecure and unfamiliar greeting, you would have thought I had never talked to anyone before in my entire life if you overheard it.

She jabbed her eyes at me sharply, sending a quick chill through my body as I shrunk back, suddenly regretting my attempt at friendship as her emotionless face watched me in silent contemplation. I cursed myself for wanting to be sociable.

... She wasn't saying anything, instead just nodding her head in recognition of my presence and attempt to communicate. Noting her sudden, albeit minute, presence of awareness, I decided to forsake my own subconscious warnings and prod further.

...Strange day for rain, huh? Usually the skies are so clear and sunny around...this time of the year... I started with something simple, the kind of thing you would say if you were on a first date and had nothing to say or were meeting someone again for the first time that you didn't even really know to begin with.

... She still wasn't saying anything, instead turning to look back out at the courtyard and nodding, as if she had just came to the realization that it was, in fact, raining, and that was the reason she was standing there instead of...going home. I scratched my head at how poorly this attempt at friend-making was going. Granted, I didn't have too many friends nor was I a social butterfly, but I was hoping if this plane that was my social endeavor was going to crash, that it would just hit the ground already and explode.

...amut. A slight whisper escaped on the wind as I jumped my eyes back at her in shock, she spoke, and in fact she was grinning while looking at me from the corner of her eye. ...Wha?

Mahdokht Akasha Alamut, that is my name. She took on a warm expression, or rather, what could be considered warm for her. I almost didn't hear her, a string of nearly incomprehensible sounds and noises that were followed by awkward sounding Japanese. After a few seconds of thought, I finally pieced together what she was trying to say.

Mahdokht Akasha Alamut, I wasn't even going to begin to try and remember the whole thing.

Oh-- right. Uh, my name is Takumi. Takumi Tachibana. I quickly regrouped myself and returned with my own name. Albeit a common name in of itself, anyone who knew anything about the Japanese industrial world would have probably recognized my name. My father was the head of the Tachibana Group, one of the largest privately owned organizations in Japan, dealing with everything from construction to banking. I didn't know exactly what they did primarily, but they had a hand in pretty much anything that could be monetized with the Japanese yen.

With my father at the head, that made me something of a big deal. My name was common in business journals for being the child of a multibillionaire with arguably the least amount of money in my pocket. As such was my father's policy, as many of his associates' children were...for lack of a better word, spoiled kids.

So...where are you from? I asked to continue our conversation. Tehran. So she was Middle Eastern, Iranian to be exact. When did you move to Japan? A year ago. Do you have any family here? No. She had turned back to look out into the space which quickly brought the slight progress we had made to a screeching, and abrupt halt. I furrowed my brow in frustration as I began to feel like I could ask her anything and not only would she answer it truthfully, she wouldn't even be phased by it, and it wouldn't get us any closer to being chums.

Her short, precise answers were what really threw me off balance. I couldn't tell if that was her nature, or if she was telling me to go away. Defeated, I turned back to the pillar I leaned against and sulked in my own defeat.

Young Master?

A familiar voice called out from behind me, the young, straight faced Tomoe Sasaki was standing behind me with book bag and kendo gear in tow.

Ah, Tomoe. I was beginning to wonder where you were. Tomoe was the only person I really considered my friend, aside from the aforementioned spoiled children that were introduced to me by my father but to be honest I really tried to avoid them whenever possible due to their arrogant and frankly annoying nature.

She was a 5th generation samurai, having descended from someone my ancestor rescued after they lost a duel with a legendary samurai. As such, with the entire Sasaki family under direct employ of my family, Tomoe was appointed as my bodyguard, which was why she referred to me as young master despite how much I despised it.

While stoic, hard headed, and fairly rigid, Tomoe answered my call for companionship under the rainy breezeway, and I was grateful for it. Kendo club finally let out? I said as she placed her gear on the ground and began to look through her book bag.

Yes, I'm sorry I'm so late. Did you forget your umbrella again? I scoffed at the word 'again'. Yeah, I didn't think it was going to rain today. She frowned and pouted at me. I told you this morning...you never listen to me. It was all over the news last night. I figured you'd forget, here. I didn't watch the news, and she knew that. I took the small, black, collapsible umbrella from her hand and expanded it under the breezeway as I looked at her with slight look of annoyance.

Despite her official position as a servant of my family, her only actual duties were to assist me in my official position of 'standing there and looking pretty' for my father, so we were pretty much more childhood friends more than anything else.

Thanks for thinking ahead. Still, she did look out for me and I had to be grateful for that, at least. I turned to bid Alamut goodbye, but found myself standing alone. Is something wrong? Maybe she noticed I was talking to someone else and decided to take her leave. I felt a little bad for ignoring her, but she did leave before I had a chance to say goodbye so I decided to let it go. No...It's nothing, let's go.

Tomoe lived with me on my family's property. It was a large, expansive compound, similar to what you would expect from a monastery. My father was a Buddhist but my sister and I were for the most part agnostic. Tomoe herself was a Buddhist, but not quite as devout as my father.

The walk home was quiet and took us through mostly humble neighborhoods, finally coming to the outskirts of the city where our compound lay. Large gates of wood and iron masked the compound from outside view.

Ah, the Young Lady must be home. Tomoe spoke as we approached the main gate. In front sat a bright red sports car. I already knew whom it belonged to as I saw the driver's side door open, a servant stood next to it preparing to drive it into parking.

A young woman stepped out of the car, taking care not to expose herself through her short business skirt as she stood up. This was Kasumi Tachibana, my older sister and assistant to my father. What she actually did for him I didn't know, but I assumed it was probably taking calls and setting up appointments.

Kasumi spotted us approaching and waved. Takumi! Tomoe! I thought you two would be here already. Rain held us up.

I see, well how was your day? The usual. We made small talk for a short period before finally entering the main gate, the rain had slowed to a mere drizzle, so Kasumi didn't bother grabbing her umbrella from her car. Although Kasumi and I were close, it hadn't always been that way. Kasumi spent a number of years away from home, attending school abroad in America and Europe. As such, she was well traveled, and very intelligent, fluent in several languages and knowledgeable in dozens of different subjects all while still remaining modest and humble about herself.

The two talked for a good minute until I felt my head begin to hurt. Hey, I'm going to my room to change. I'll catch up with you guys later. I excused myself from them and headed to my bedroom, eager to shed the tight, constraining school uniform we were forced to wear in preference of something more comfortable. My room was neat and orderly, humble in most aspects except for how simple it was. I felt that its simplicity and mastery over form and function was ironically it's most impressive characteristic. I didn't have anything expensive or outlandish in terms of a spiffy computer or a lot of video games. I always fancied reading and the violin rather than other things people in my age group might have preferred. Tomoe, by contrast, had a very large fascination with fighting games, so I had a large collection of those by circumstance, rather than choice.

As I sat down at my desk I held my forehead and felt the draining of the day begin to seep into my bones. It was heavier today than usual, as if the life had been siphoned from me. I closed my eyes with a sigh as my thoughts went back to Alamut. Something about that girl just struck me as unusual. Not only in that she was out of place, but just her presence channeled something from within me, dare I say...something familiar? I had never met her before in my life but when I was standing next to her I felt drawn to her, as if she had something I needed to see or hear.

Maybe I just have a thing for Iranian girls, even though my preference had always been towards Japanese gravure models...granted that's really all there is to see when your father is a raging nationalist.

Suddenly, as if to purposely drag me out of my thoughts of what deviant purposes might explain my interest in the strange Iranian girl I had met that day, a rapid knocking came from my door. It was a quick succession of light beats that only one person used when beckoning me from the outside world. It was Tomoe. She had brought snacks and wanted to spend time together.

I opened the door, she stood in a blue sweater and navy skirt with a wrapped napkin in her hand containing sandwiches. Good evening, Young Master.

It's just you and me in here Tomoe, can't you call me by my name even when we're alone? By now, I knew that no matter how much I complained I couldn't change how she addressed me. However, already frustrated by my fatigue, I felt compelled to at least make an effort to ask. You know I can't do that, here, have a sandwich.

She handed me a number of club sandwiches in a napkin, followed by a glass of juice. I decided to end that topic immediately, and lazily sat on my bed, turning on the television to some prime time comedy show.

Tomoe sat on the floor at my feet, eyes fixated on the television as I munched on the sandwich in my hand, it was small, leisurely scenes like this that I found made me feel just a little like a normal, middle class adolescent male.

With class came responsibility and expectations, I hated that. This status meant that I could never get too close to people. I had a few friends at school, but our friendship rarely went beyond the classroom. I couldn't bring them home, not without running the risk of weirding them out anyway.

Tomoe was really the only person I could even begin to call a friend that was fully aware of my status. The only other people were more the sons of my father's friends than my friends. It was people like them that made me understand why my father didn't spoil my sister and I.

I could thank him for that, at least.

Still, sitting with Tomoe, without a care in the world, scenes like those allowed me to be relaxed. This must have been what it was like to have a girlfriend and be normal. Scenes like this were probably commonplace. Tomoe pulled something out from behind her back, and looked at me expectantly. Young Master, one of my seniors in the Kendo club recommended this game to me; would you like to play it?

It was a new fighting game. It had just come out and a couple of my friends from school were raving about it. I smiled at her lazily.

She really did have a thing for those kinds of games.

Chapter 2 – Sunday, April 15th, 2012

The next morning came with a painful recollection of the colossal beat-down the far fighting game superior Tomoe had dished out to me. There was a dry, crusty, half eaten sandwich on my chest, crumbs having made their way to grace all over my shirt. It was Sunday already, so no school. We had been up all night playing that game that Tomoe claimed she had never played before, until finally I passed out in a overabundant mix of frustration and exhaustion. I was an incredibly sore loser, I knew this just as much as people liked to remind me, even when I knew that I frankly didn't have a chance in beating her on anything other than a stroke of the blindest of luck.

I rubbed my nose as I reached for my glasses. I could see plenty well enough without them, and normally I wore contacts, however I didn't like to sleep with them on and I wouldn't be bothered to put them in on a day where I didn't have anything important to do.

I lay in bed for a little while longer, Tomoe was sleeping curled up at my feet, a blanket wrapped neatly around her as she used my leg that had fallen off the side of the bed as a pillow. She was cute like this, when she showed her true colors instead of the stoic facade that she put up in public. Tomoe wasn't the killjoy she painted herself to be. I had known her long enough to know how she could really be, and how much of a innocent little girl she really was.

My vision was still blurry as I jerked my leg into her cheek, rubbing my eyes from under my glasses and rubbing the sleep away. The sandwich fell as the crumbs covered my bed. I'd clean it up later, I told myself in an effort to put it off until later.

For as frail a girl as she was when she was sleeping peacefully, looking more akin to a Japanese doll than an actual person, she was actually a really heavy sleeper. Contrary to the stereotype of the servant/bodyguard she wanted to embody, I often spent much of the morning waking her up.

Tomoe. I said as I bumped her forehead with my heel as I slipped my leg free from her ironclad, claw-like grasp. Her brow furrowed, but her eyes didn't even so much as flutter. She reached for my leg in the air but fell empty as I lifted my foot above her, poking her on the top of her head with my toes.

She kept reaching, as a slightly forlorn expression fell across her face as I watched her brush my toes away while still looking for my leg. Hah, idiot. Get up! I said loudly as I kicked her playfully in the forehead, her body slid back against the bed until she finally fell over, smacking her head against the wall with a resounding thud. Tomoe quickly woke up, grabbing the back of her head in pain as she rolled over and made a low groaning sound. Oww....What happened? I grinned mischievously. You fell. Don't do that.

When Tomoe finally brought herself around from her near coma like slumber (she ended up falling back asleep shortly after hitting her head, much to my own dismay as had I kicked her again she would've know it was me) we went to go have a late breakfast. Despite being in a house filled with servants perfectly capable of cooking for the family, my mother still insisted on cooking for her family, like housewives of middle-class families often did. She even cooked for Tomoe, whom she regarded as more of a daughter than a servant. Needless to say, even Tomoe had limits though, and cooking breakfast would be the responsibility of the only one of us who could cook..which was myself, again breaking the master/servant archetype.

A small breakfast of grilled fish, rice, miso soup, egg, and toast, cooked to specifications set by the patron. I preferred my fish to be lightly broiled, lest it lose some of the flavor, while Tomoe apparently liked the taste of burnt horse mackerel. Aji meant horse mackerel, but it also meant taste. Aji no aji (taste of horse mackerel) I chuckled to myself at the wordplay.

Is it done yet Takumi~? Tomoe said lazily in her nearly asleep, dreaming voice as I almost missed it. As soon as the three syllable word registered in