Participants:
| Scene Title | On The Horizon |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Kaito begins to cobble his family back together for what's to come. |
| Date | April 1st, 2009 |
The Yamagato Fellowship — Tokyo, Japan
It's the peak of the day, the sun shining through the wide windows of the gallery of the Yamagato Fellowship enough to make artificial light unnecessary. There are glass cases, displaying pottery, weaponry, sculptures, and light sends bright white glare off both these and the plaques that accompany. Paintings, too, on the walls, and tapestries, ancient things, infinitely priceless. It's a clean and mostly empty place, filled with a kind of modern and elegant reverence that the items on display requires.
Kaito moves past these relics as if he had seen them all before, countless times, which may or may not be true. It's an expected visit, most of the meetings he sets up are, not a man of spontaneity outside of his own unstoppable decisions that may come at a moment's notice but are otherwise carefully planned. He sees things no one else sees coming. He, in turn, is often seen coming. He moves with an authoritative but patient swiftness, shoes shined, suit immaculate, and he seeks, today, his daughter. There is nothing urgent about his demeanor. There's time.
At such an hour, she should be busy. But she can never be too busy to meet her own father when he requests her presence.
Yamagato Fellowship
Kimiko Nakamura, President
The sign is in English, the one beneath it in characters. Kimiko's executive assistant immediately rises and bows low to Kaito, murmuring effacingly, "She is expecting you, Nakamura-sama." With that, the young woman opens the door for Kaito to step inside.
Kimiko is already standing in front of her desk. Her posture and her clothes are perfect, and the office lacks so much as a speck of dust. Hands folded neatly in front of her, just as the door was opening her head and been bowed, and for just a split second, she was the face and form of Ichi. But then her chin lifts and she bows as her father enters. "Oto-san," she murmurs in a soft voice - soft as a woman's should be, but with calm authority. That's the part of Kaito in her blood. "You honor me with your presence. How can I assist you today?"
"Kimiko."
It's a simple greeting, her name stated with great familiarity and that brand of reserved affection unique to Kaito, the kind that isn't accompanied with a smile, or even really any warmth. But it's there. The door is shut behind them by the quiet assistant, Kaito's hands coming to link together as he regards his daughter, allowing a silence that might be uncomfortable by her standards to settle between them. There's study, in his gaze, and a kind of resignation.
She's dismissed a moment later, Kaito moving towards the window to peer out towards the gardens that surround the gallery. It's a nice day, perhaps he should have had this meeting outdoors. "You cannot assist me today," he says, and looks back at her. "That comes later. How are you finding your work here, at the Yamagato Fellowship?"
It's the resignation she finds difficult to bear. What does he see, that makes him so disappointed in her? Hasn't she done everything he's ever expected of her? But Kimiko has long schooled the evidence of worry from her face, in the many years of being this man's eldest child. His daughter. Even when Hiro was being a disappointment, Kaito didn't really see her. Or so she thought.
"I did not know I would take to it as I have." she says, remaining standing in her spot, hands still neatly folded in front of her. "But there is something to be said for approaching my day at work surrounded by the stuff of legends. I only regret that others are not permitted to have the opportunity to find similar inspiration."
"Perhaps some day they will. For now, it is in our best interest to keep what is most important to us as close as we can." His hands have come to rest behind his back in a gentlemanly, relaxed posture, but there is tension as ever in his shoulders. Kaito had always been an alert man. But now, his hand moves lazily, a sedate gesture towards the space beside him. An invitation to stand and speak with him if there ever was one.
Kimiko obligingly steps up to his right hand. Looking out the window, she too takes in the sight of Tokyo. Perhaps too abruptly, she comments without thinking, "I miss Hiro. Have you heard from him?" She hasn't, not in a long time. Mentally she winces, thinking it likely that Kaito will dodge the question, as he always does. She understands the nature of her brother's abilities…in theory. Having never witnessed them, makes them harder to believe. She still remembers when Hiro used to carry a Merry Marvel Marching Society card in his back pocket. And she didn't even know what it actually was.
"No." Apparently, no dodging today. Kaito's eyes are hooded as he almost regally regards the city sprawling out in front of him. His, in a sense, or at least some parts of it. His hand comes to join the other behind his back once more. "You will not have to miss him for long."
With that rather ambiguous statement delivered, Kaito allows himself a glance at Kimiko's opaque expression beside his. "More died than your mother when she passed away. She nurtured. Often too much," he adds, his words coming out clipped and harsh with aged pride, a slight tip of his chin indicating some old, old conflict between two parents, one that's long since gone. "She saw much in you both. Things that I did not see until I was shown."
A pause, angular jaw coming to clench once, still standing straight and proud, angled out towards the window. "Hiro needs you, Kimiko. As much as he once needed your mother."
And once more in profile, her resemblance to Ishi is painful. She'll never know it, but perhaps it's part of the reason for Kaito's stiffness. It would never occur to her. She blinks, turning her head to gaze at her father's austere expression. She opens her mouth as if to speak, reconsiders her words, and says, "What must I do to help my brother, oto-san? How can I find him. Or," she pauses thoughtfully, "Will he find me?"
"You will find him in New York, if he does not find you first." She comes to look at him, and Kaito, in turn, now shifts enough to face her. That resignation is back, but perhaps it's not for Kimiko after all. Perhaps not even for Hiro, his wayward son that took his stories of heroism too much to heart, or maybe just enough. Something more that deepens the lines of age around his eyes, his mouth.
"I am anticipating facing the wrath of an old…" The wrinkles at his eyes deepen this time in some kind of mirthless humour. "…friend. He wishes to take something of mine that is too precious to destroy, too important to neglect. I see it on the horizon as I see all certainties. It is important, in this time, for Hiro to remember his family."
Nakamuras do not hug. Well, that didn't used to be true. Ishi lavished affection on her children, but in the years without her, it certainly became an established fact of life, save for sudden bouts of affection from Hiro - and he is not that young man anymore, Kimiko is certain that much is likely. And so the only solidarity, or comfort, or connection she can give her father is her soft, slim hand, gently placed on his wrist. She meets his eyes with firm resolve. "I will go to New York. I will find Hiro, oto-san. I promise."
His gaze goes down towards her hand, as if surprised. But his gaze meets hers, sees the resolve there, and smiles in the way that does not even remotely touch his mouth. "You have much of your mother in you," Kaito says, putting to words what he might see in fleeting glances of her profile. "Enough for it to take me as long as it did to see myself also."
His weathered hand now rests on hers, but Kaito doesn't spare that a glance. As if ignoring this sign of affection and solidarity. "You can be what Hiro needs, has needed since Ando's death. The Fellowship will wait for you. There are more important things."
And the hand is removed, his wrist withdrawn from where her gentle touch had trapped it, raising up to check that his tie is in place in all its accuracy. He's said what he had come to say, and now, Kaito moves back from the window, mild shadows of the room washing over him and leaving his daughter in sunlit silhouette.
The gesture of affection - and she knows, for Kaito, it is affection - causes her to drop her gaze to his hand on top of hers, makes her face become something younger and more innocent. Moments are precious and fragile and brief, like the flowers used for ikebana. She makes no sound of protest at his departure, merely bows to his departing figure as a dutiful daughter should. After he is gone, she stands for a moment in the sunlight, and then walks up to her desk, picking up the phone.
"Yes." she says curtly to the person on the other end. "I will require a plane ticket to America. New York City, departing tomorrow. Let me know as soon as it has been acquired."
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