el.angeleyes-第62节

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　〃But　sensei；　look　out　there；〃　Tori　had　said；　pointing　to　the　exquisite　garden。　〃You　are　always　surrounded　by　nature。　I　don't　understand。〃
　Sensei　had　smiled。　〃I　urge　you　to　look　again　at　the　garden　on　which　I　lavish　so　much　attention。　Is　it　nature？　When　we　wander　the　lush　hillsides　of　Yoshino；　that　is　nature；　when　we　climb　the　alps　to　the　north；　that　is　nature。　But　this　garden？　No。　It　is　a　product　of　my　imagination。　Everything　is　made；　dwarfed；　bonsaied；　controlled　by　me　or　by　one　of　my　students。　This　garden　is　what　I　want　it　to　be；　nothing　more；　certainly　not　nature。　Not　yet。
　〃The　perfect　garden；　Tori…san；　is　a　simulacrum　of　nature；　it　merges　with　nature　to　bee　one　with　it。　But　there　is　no　such　thing　as　a　perfect　garden；　and　there　never　will　be。　The　result；　though　we　work　all　our　lives　toward　it；　is　too　frightening　a　prospect；　because　if　it　ever　came　about；　we　would；　by　definition；　lose　our　control　over　it；　and　that　can　never　be　allowed。〃
　Facades　and　a　sense　of　control；　these　were　the　principles　of　Japanese　gardens；　microcosms　of　the　Japanese　culture　itself。　And　these　were　what　Tori　thought　of　the　night　she　went　carousing　the　wild　side　of　Tokyo　with　Greg。　Because　she　was；　at　last；　tired　of　both。
　Sake　was　a　good　antidote　to　regimentation。　Something　quite　strong　was　needed　to　blur　the　lines；　the　grids；　the　bars　of　the　life　of　an　acolyte。　Because　that　was　just　what　she　and　Greg　were；　acolytes：　she　had　joined　the　samurai　religion　of　the　past；　he　the　scientific　religion　of　the　future。　The　two　of　them　met　here　at　this　moment　in　time；　amid　the　neon　burning　of　a　Tokyo　night；　in　the　primitive　jungle　within　the　world's　most　civilized　city；　bound　in　the　present　they　were　creating。
　Or　so　Tori　had　thought；　until　they　hit　a　place　called　The　Lemon　Crush。　It　was　at　the　wrong　end　of　Shinjuku；　a　kind　of　akachochin；　an　after…hours　joint；　posh　and　potent；　where　the　price　tags　were　hot　and　the　action　even　hotter。
　They　were；　by　this　time；　two　liters　into　sake；　and　Tori　felt　as　if　an　electric　wire　had　been　slipped　into　her　veins。　Greg's　eyes　crossed　at　intervals；　and　he　couldn't　keep　the　sweat　from　glistening　in　his　short；　blond　hair。
　〃Wow！〃　he　had　exclaimed；　when　they　had　taken　the　Lucite　elevator　down　to　the　main　floor　of　The　Lemon　Crush。　〃I　don't　ever　want　to　leave　this　place！〃　Greg　had　always　been　prone　to　theatrical　overstatement；　a　trait　he　had　unconsciously　picked　up　from　their　mother。
　　　They　had　been　given　a　table　on　the　upper　level　that　circled　the　main　floor。　Blue　and　yellow　neon　rimmed　everything：　floor；　tables；　steps；　railings；　and　on　the　gigantic　screen　of　the　ceiling；　projected　origami　were　continually　unfolding　like　exotic　flowers　in　yet　another　display　of　the　Japanese　trying　to　control　nature；
　Tori　and　Greg　were　on　their　second　round　of　sake；　soaking　up　the　sights；　the　sounds　of　Heaven　17　singing　〃Fascist　Groove　Thang〃　at　teeth…rattling　volume；　when　Tori　sensed　Greg's　attention　wandering。　She　followed　his　gaze；　saw　him　staring　fixedly　at　a　beautiful　young　woman；　tall；　lissome；　exotic　as　the　origami　unfolding　overhead。
　〃Hubba；　hubba！〃　Greg　said；　and　slipped　out　of　his　chair　before　Tori　could　do　anything　to　stop　him。　This　was　Japan；　but　Greg　had　no　conception　of　what　that　meant；　especially　in　his　current　state。
　〃Damnit；　Greg！〃
　But　he　couldn't　hear　her。　As　Tori　watched　him　make　his　way　down　toward　the　beautiful　young　woman；　she　thought　of　the　kind　of　place　this　was；　and　what　that　said　about　its　habitues。　Drug　dealers　and　sex　peddlers　were　only　the　tamer　elements　wending　their　way　through　the　yellow…and…blue…lit　throng。　The　Lemon　Crush；　it　was　whispered；　was　a　favored　hangout　of　the　Yakuza。
　Tori　had　never　met　a　Yakuza；　and　even　through　her　sake…induced　buzz　she　thought　that　this　was　not　the　night　to　do　so。　Macho　was　one　thing；　suicide　quite　another。　Greg　would　not　understand　this。　Tori　did　not　think　they　had　enough　time　together　for　her　to　adequately　explain　the　inner　workings　of　the　Yakuza　mind　to　him。
　Now　she　could　see　Greg　talking　to　the　woman；　could　see　her　smiling　in　return。　Greg　was　so　handsome；　he　had　never　had　trouble　getting　girls；　just　the　opposite；　in　fact。　Tori　could　remember　when　he　was　in　high　school；　there　were　too　many　girl…friends　to　make　life　simple。　And　at　one　point　Greg's　after…school　and　practice　life　became　something　of　a　slapstick　farce；　plete　with　slammed　doors；　lightning　changes　of　clothes；　and；　at　least　on　Greg's　part；　iron…man　stamina。　Tori　had　had　an　active　part　in　this；　playing…in　Laura　Nunn's　parlance…the　straight　man　who　stooged　for　the　star；　making　sure　no　two　girls　would　catch　him　in　the　same　room　at　the　same　time。
　And；　recalling　this；　seeing　him　laughing　with　the　beautiful；　exotic　Japanese；　Tori　discovered　that　it　wasn't　only　apprehension　she　was　feeling；　it　was　anger。　She　and　Greg　saw　each　other　so　infrequently；　she　thought　it　insensitive　of　him　to　go　off　and　leave　her　like　this。　And　from　the　secure　distance　of　the　future；　Tori　was　able　to　see　the　truth：　she　had　wanted　to　spend　the　night　with　her　brother；　matching　his　macho　with　hers；　at　last　on　her　turf；　showing　Greg…and　Ellis　Nunn…that　she　could　pete　on　his　level。
　Could　she　really　be　jealous　of　this　creature？　Tori　had　asked　herself　then。　Yes；　yes；　as　she　slid　through　the　crowd；　moving　toward　them。
　Tori　was　still　some　distance　away　when　she　saw　the　tall；　square…shouldered　young　man　heading　on　a　collision　course　with　her　brother　and　the　woman。　He　was　a　Japanese　dressed　in　a　stylish　suit。　His　hair　was　shorter　even　than　Greg's；　almost　a　military　cut。　There　was　something　in　his　direct　gaze　that　disturbed　her　even　before　she　was　close　enough　to　feel　the　power　of　his　wa。　That　was　when　the　fright　took　over。　By　that　time　she　had　had　more　than　enough　training　to　know　a　dangerous　opponent　when　she　saw　one。
　The　young　man　was　heading　straight　for　Greg；　his　gaze　fixed　steadily　on　him。　Tori　watched　him　move　through　the　crowd。　It　was　like　seeing　a　hot　knife　slice　through　butter。　He　did　not　have　to　fight　his　way　through；　did　not　have　to　elbow　people　aside。　No　one　was　disturbed；　there　was　no　ripple　to　mark　his　passage。
　Then　abruptly；　shockingly；　he　reached　out　and　the　sleeve　of　his　jacket　rode　up　his　arm；　exposing　a　wrist　covered　with　an　irizumi　demon　spitting　fire。　And　Tori's　heart　lurched。　Oh；　my　God；　she　thought。　Greg's　making　a　move　on　the　girlfriend　of　a　Yakuza。
　She　and　the　Yakuza　converged　on　Greg　and　the　woman。　Tori　had　just　enough　time　to　say；　〃Greg；　let's　get　out　of　here！〃　before　the　Yakuza's　hand　clamped　down　on　Greg's　shoulder。
　Greg　spun；　shoving　the　hand　off　him。　Greg　was　in　a　semi…crouch；　the　standard　first　position　of　the　sort　of　unarmed　bat　taught　by　the　United　States　government　agencies。　It　would　mean　nothing　to　the　Yakuza。　Unless　Greg　pulled　a　gun　and　shot　him　dead；　the　Yakuza's　skills　would　quickly　overpower　anything　Greg　could　throw　at　him。
　Greg　grinned。　〃Hey；　I　don't　want　any　trouble；〃　he　said　suddenly；　ing　out　of　his　crouch。　He　put　up　his　hands。　〃No　law　I　know　of　against　talking　to　a　beautiful　woman。〃
　〃The　woman　belongs　to　me；〃　the　Yakuza　said。　He　had　gone　very　still。　One　arm　was　out　from　his　body；　rigid；　the　other　one　was　close　to　the　lapel　of　his　suit　jacket。
　Greg　said；　〃You've　got　it　all　wrong；　pal。　Slavery　was　abolished　almost　a　hundred　years　ago。''
〃The　world　doesn't　belong　to　America；〃　the　Yakuza　said。　
〃Yeah？　Well；　it　sure　doesn't　belong　to　Japan。〃　
The　Yakuza　grinned。　〃Not　yet。〃
　〃Greg；　e　on；''　Tori　said。　''We　didn't　e　here　to　debate　cultural　differences。〃
　〃Stay　away；　woman！　This　does　not　concern　you；　〃the　Yakuza　growled；　curtly　dismissing　her。
　〃Like　hell！〃　Tori　said；　for　the　moment　forgetting　everything　she　had　been　taught。　〃When　you　threaten　my　brother；　you　threaten　me。〃
　The　Yakuza　slowly　turned　to　her；　said　in　the　most　condescending　voice；　〃You're　cute；　you　know　that？〃　He　produced　a　snub…nosed　automatic。　〃But　that's　all　you　are；　so…〃
　At　that　point　Tori　jammed　the　stiffened　fingers　of　her　right　hand　into　the　Yakuza's　solar　plexus。　His　eyes　opened　wide　and　he　was　jolted　backward。
　Greg　lunged　for　the　automatic；　and　the　Yakuza's　left　hand　chopped　down　on　his　forearm。　As　if　in　slow　motion；　Tori　saw　the　Yakuza　turn　his　gun　on　Greg；　she　went　for　the　nerve　cluster　in　his　right　arm；　and　using　her　own　left　arm　as　a　brace；　bent　the　Yakuza's　gun　arm　backward　until　she　heard　the　snap。
　His　savage　kick　caught　her　on　the　edge　of　her　pelvis。　She　cried　out　in　surprise　and　pain；　slammed　into　him　again　and；　almost　simultaneously；　heard　the　report　of　the　single　shot。
　The　Yakuza's　face　went　white；　he　said　something　unintelligible　in　all　the　electronic　noise　and　motion；　then　slipped　to　the　floor。　Blood；　a　dark　flower；　spread　its　lethal　petals。
　Tori　bent；　touched　him　on　the　side　of　the　neck。　Then　she　grabbed　Greg　and　pushed　her　way　through　the　throng；　farther　and　farther；　blue　and　yellow　mutating　the　shadows　all　around；　the　origami　unfolding；　unfolding；　the　strained　faces　now　so　alien　to　her。
　Outside　in　the　spangled　night　she　said；　''e　on！　Let's　go！〃
　Greg　hesitated。　〃But　that　guy's　wounded。　He　might　die。　I　think　we　ought　to　wait。〃
　〃Greg；　he's　dead。　He　had　no　pulse。　The　only　thing　that　will　happen　if　we　wait　is　we'll　be　killed。　That　guy　was　Yakuza；　a　gangster　of　the