The Chronicles of Protan (Book 1): The Shadowed Man

Chapter 24

Masao Matsumoto’s time with the Yakuza had been strenuous, demanding, nerve wrecking; often physically abusing, and emotionally draining, since birth. He had lived to see many things he would choose to forget, from the slaughtering of innocent people, dubious back door deals, public sexual displays at privately owned clubs; even the beheading of numerous Yakuza members due to a simple disagreement over a drink. He had finally witnessed with his own eyes the phenomenon of the portal gateways that so many have claimed to see and speak of, yet it was far more fascinating and a pleasure for the eyes to see than it had been described.

Most significantly, he had finally come to witness the terrifying supernatural ability that in all logic and reason should not exist: sorcery. It was used by the very man that only existed in hushed legend and folklore, strictly passed through generations of families and clans. Yung Yakuza certainly lived up to the legend. Masao had witnessed his grandeur first hand in Hawaii before they found the cave within which they still remained. However, the legends never spoke of his cruelty.

And Masao had felt that cruelty displayed in the death of his brother.

He moved between the remainder of the crew within the dark cave, the incident still digging into segments of his mind. They were far fewer in number as Yung had sent the labourers back to Tokyo, keeping the supervisors and technical crew at hand.

With immediate family long passed, his brother was the last tie that bound him to any form of blood. Not only was that taken from him in a mere heartbeat, it pained him to know that his years spent as a loyal servant to the clan had brought nothing but loss. The numbness settled deep within him like a cold touch to the chest; he felt lost as he meandered through the cave.

Approaching one of his subordinates sitting quietly at a makeshift desk, he had noticed for some time that the sorcerer was nowhere to be seen. He stood still looking around to be sure before he spoke: “I have the frequencies for the portal,” he said in Japanese. “Has the Oyabun given permission for the conjuring?”

“We were only instructed to stay within the confines of the cave sir,” the man replied. “The Oyabun left the cave after you went to make the call. We have not seen him since.”

Masao tilted his head intrigued, “He left with guards I assume?”

“I don’t think so sir, we are all still within the cave. No one has left.”

Masao stood in thought, then glanced around at the shuffling and movement. Yung never left the cave without patrol. Perhaps it was merely a time for meditation as he had witnessed twice since they had arrived, or perhaps he stepped off practicing the very sorcery that took his brother from him. For some reason beyond Masao’s understanding, the sorcerer seemed hesitant and unsure of his power. He often saw Yung standing outside of the cave, eyes closed, arms widespread, and hands shaking. Streams and orbs of sorcery would flow passed around him, yet Masao would often hear him spitting words in a language he did not understand, assuming that the sorcerer cursed at the failed attempts of conjuring.

These possibilities roamed his mind as to why Yung had left by himself, yet, perhaps another reason hindered. He had been absent for quite a time. Perhaps something else kept him.

“Get the men ready,” Masao said handing over the chart of readings. “The Oyabun would expect no delays when he arrives. Start preparing your frequency readers and detectors. I will return shortly.”

“Yes sir,” and Masao turned, striding toward the mouth of the cave.

The water fell freely from above as he walked from behind the waterfall, the light spray of white vapour washing lightly over him. It was a refreshing sensation, he wouldn’t deny. An inviting contrast to the musky, damp cave he walked from.