Be-Beep! Be-Beep! Be-Beep!

  The sound of an alarm clock cut through the silence of the early morning. The room was styled in the traditional Japanese design —a washitsu, or in English, a tatami room.

  The room was not wide by Western standards at just six tatami or just under ten square meters. But for one person, the size was adequate—at least according to the people occupying the house.

  Inside the room was a closet on one side and a study desk with a chair on another. On top of the desk were a few neatly organized books, along with one flip phone. Beside the desk was a full-length mirror, one of the few luxuries she owned.

  Across from the desk was an electric heater doing its best to raise the temperature of the room. Beside it was a futon, neatly spread on the floor. And beneath the blankets, the owner of the alarm clock was still wrapped in the last moments of rest before waking up.

  Be-Beep! Be-Beep! Be-Beep!

  The alarm still continued to ring. It was a Japanese flip-style alarm clock, and from the looks of it, it was quite old, more than ten years, though miraculously, it was still functioning.

  Despite its age, however, the glow-in-the-dark feature still worked well enough, which allowed the owner to see the time. It was already 4:55 a.m.

  A slender hand, though slightly calloused, reached out and tapped the stop button.

  Mochizuki Shizuku (望月 雫) sat up on her futon and stretched.

  She rubbed her eyes a bit trying to rid herself of the grogginess and last traces of sleep she was feeling. Her hair was cut short enough that it only reached her chin. It was brushed to her left so that it naturally covered that side of her face.

  She stood to her full height of 170 cm, looked down, and began to fix her futon. After she was done carefully folding it, she stored it neatly away inside her closet. After she finished, she stretched more, this time with intention.

  She was careful not to overdo it, as it might affect her morning routine. After her hands, then her legs, and lastly her back—which accentuated her figure and her ample bosom.

  Her face wasn’t unattractive, quite the opposite. Although she had sharp and striking eyes, she had subtle features which made her beautiful enough that with only a bit of makeup and lipstick she could pass for a model for a magazine.

  Maybe not the front cover, but still.

  She was tall for a girl in their country, but despite her many assets she could not get a boyfriend. She often wondered why that was.

  What she hadn’t realized was that the combination of many things, perfectly blended together made dating—tricky—at least for her. First was her height, many boys found it intimidating that she could look them directly in the eyes. Another factor was her life style

  She was the ace of their school’s kendo club, and she was more than good. Talented would be adequate to describe her. She was skilled enough that she managed to reach and compete in the Inter-High, All Japan Invitational High School Kendo Championships for two consecutive years.

  She placed third during her first year and champion in her second year. Now she aims to repeat that feat in her third and final year of high school. Even with the number of club activities she had, she never hesitated to help out others whether it was for club or school activities. With her kindness and talent, she became one of the top darlings of their school.

  Having a trifecta of looks, talent, and her unwavering kindness and willingness to help other people, many would naturally be attracted to her and want to confess their feelings.

  But that also came with challenges. The female members of her club and more than a few from the student body had come to see her as some idol, and were fiercely protective. On some occasions, they would gang up on potential suitors, just to keep them at bay. It was a vicious cycle, the more she made a name for herself, the more it seemed to isolate her into being self-partnered and thriving.

  Despite all that, little did she know, a revelation would come to her that day and shake her to her very core.

  ========================================================================

  Narrator 1, note 1: Seriously idol culture has got to be one of the weirdest things about Japan. Also, this has got to be one of the funniest things I have ever read. LMAO.

  Narrator 2, note 1: Do you want to die? Do it seriously.

  Narrator 1, note 2: AUGHK! Yes, ma’am! I will do the narration seriously.

  ========================================================================

  She followed this routine, waking this early and stretching in what looked like the beginnings of a martial kata, every day for as long as she could remember.

  It was done under the instructions of her grandfather Mochizuki Kensei (望月 剣盛). It was also under his guidance and influence her love for the sport of kendo began.

  Her grandfather, who claims he is descended from the bloodline of a certain famous swordsman called Musashi, was tall at 182 cm and was still looking strong despite his old age.

  His grizzled beard, long hair and sharp eyes—eyes she inherited from him—gave him an air of nobility and strength. He was not only strong enough that he still ran their family’s dojo but also skilled enough that he could give her father, Mochizuki Masaki (望月 将輝), a 178 cm tall and reputable police assistant inspector, a good fight with kendo or with martial arts.

  Yet, in their household, the one who had the final say was her grandmother, Mochizuki Kuuko (望月 空子).

  Her grandmother, who was only as tall as her mother, Mochizuki Tsukiyo (望月 月夜), at 167 cm, was nevertheless formidable enough that one tradition, or law, depending on how one would look at it, in their household was—and still is—unbroken.

  Should anyone ever wish to marry a member of their family, if they could defeat her in kendo or any martial art of their choosing, they would earn not only the right to marry but also the choice to change the family name.

  As evident from her grandfather’s or their family’s last names, no one had been able to best her. Of course, she took inspiration from such a matriarch—not that she would ever say it aloud, as it was not their way. Still, that inspiration drove her forward and helped her keep to her routine.

  After she was done with her stretches, she got dressed in her school’s jersey. This was also routine, her morning jog, three times a week, every week.

  She then thought for a moment before deciding to add a scarf, the only one she owned. Rich burgundy on one side, cream on the other, it combined the warmth and durability of wool with the luxurious softness of cashmere. It was a gift from a friend, given the last time he visited.

  She passed by the rooms of her two younger sisters Tsukine (月音) and Mizuki (美月) as she made her way to the kitchen. Each of them was a year apart in age, and all were fairly close to each other.

  Despite their rooms being small, though their parents’ and grandparents’ rooms were wider, the entirety of their house and their plot of land was wide.

  Their house, had the same features as a traditional Japanese home would have. A tatami-mat flooring and sliding doors (fusuma and shoji), engawa or veranda, and complete with a genkan, the entrance hall for removing shoes before stepping inside.

  With the addition of a garden and the number of rooms however, it is more like a formal manor with an inner garden courtyard (Tsubo-niwa). Their compound is spacious enough that they have a large shed out back and a dojo opposite their veritable manor.

  The dojo is able to accommodate fifty people at once and is often used by her club members as a second practice spot.

  Three-meter-high walls enclose the entire perimeter, joining together at a grand gate. The doors of the gate are made out of Zelkova serrata (Keyaki), a hardwood tree native to Japan that is very strong, and durable. Flanking the gates are two Komainu (Lion dog) statues.

  The statues were made of granite, their bases, half a meter tall, with the statues themselves a full meter in height, making them look rather imposing.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Her journey to the kitchen was not long, though she had to cross several corridors that led to more rooms. She expected to see her grandfather already up and preparing breakfast, but to her surprise, her grandmother was there too, quietly drinking tea.

  Every morning, she would greet her grandfather as he prepared the food. And soon after she had left for her jog, her mother would wake up next and she would take over the cooking. Her father would get up around the time she returned, while her grandmother would be up around the time she would go to school.

  This had been happening for as long as she could remember—a routine. So, seeing her grandmother awake this early was surprising.

  “Good morning, Ojii-san, Obaa-san,” she said softly as she stepped into the kitchen, before reaching for a cup of hot water to help settle her stomach.

  “Good morning Shizuku. Going for your run?” Her grandfather asked with a warm smile.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  Before her grandfather could say more, her grandmother was the one to reply in her sharp and direct-to-the-point tone.

  “Be careful.”

  “It’s your trip today, right? It’s cold outside so best be careful that you keep your focus. You don’t want any accidents that could cause you your chance for the trip or worse.” Her grandfather added, clarifying what his wife’s statement meant.

  “See you when you get back,” her grandmother said in farewell.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be back.” She called as she exited the kitchen.

  She crossed the living room and arrived at the entrance. She put on her running shoes before she stepped outside and met the cool spring air.

  “I’m heading out, Shin, Rai,” she said to the two Komainu statues before she began her jog in earnest. One of their household traditions was to offer greetings and farewells to the two statues like they are part of the family.

  She supposed they were since the two had been there since she was a child. Apparently, they had been there even before her grandmother’s grandmother was born.

  According to her grandmother, both acted as protectors of their family and predate even the unification of their country. It was apparently the same for their manor or so her story goes.

  Their home is near the Tagawa River, located at the edge of Nagaoka-cho and north-east of Fujimigaoka. Both are residential neighborhoods located in the northern part of Utsunomiya city in Tochigi prefecture.

  Tochigi prefecture itself is an area located in the Kanto region of Honshu (Japan’s largest island). It is one of eight landlocked prefectures in the country and has mountainous northern regions.

  Because of this the mornings and evenings in the area are affected not only by the cool mountain air but also by the effect the river has on its surroundings.

  However, even with the seven-degree temperature of spring outside, Shizuku hardly noticed. She was used to running like this, so it did not bother her much.

  It was, as she found it, a rather good way of getting her mind off things. Running like this in the quiet morning air helped clear her mind.

  What her grandfather meant earlier, and what Shizuku was trying to distract herself from, was the event that would happen this Monday the 15th of April.

  Around the first week of December, a few weeks before their winter break, Shizuku and some of her classmates received an invitation.

  It was for a simple cultural exchange program—an opportunity to share experiences, participate in activities, and maybe even join a workshop. The goal, in essence, was to build intercultural understanding and camaraderie.

  The concept was simple enough, but the offer seemed almost too good to be true. Everything from travel expenses to food and accommodations, was fully paid for.

  The invitation came from an international organization that she and her friends didn’t know anything about or had ever heard of before. It was called the Red Curtain.

  Of course, anyone receiving mysterious offers from unheard-of international groups would be more than a little suspicious.

  Her father and the family of all of her classmates that received the invitation thoroughly researched the organization and the event they were invited to.

  To their pleasant surprise, the organization came up clean. As it turned out, the Red Curtain was a rather large group with assets ranging in the billions across multiple countries.

  The event on the other hand, was a different matter. There was no news about it online, in the newspapers, or magazines. Normally such things were often considered red flags and a setup for scams that might get them recruited into some strange cult.

  However, the hotel that they were going to stay at was real, and after a simple phone call, confirmed that the hotel was booked under the organization’s name and that the event was real and would be happening.

  If that were all there was, there might have been some who would not be tempted by the offer, but there was one more incentive the organization added.

  For any who decided to accept the invitation, they would look favourably upon them should they ever find themselves applying for any position with any of their affiliated offices in the future. It was a generous offer and a wonderful prize, for simply attending an all-expense-paid trip to the capital.

  The only catch? They had to be there by the 12th of April, a Friday. And though the event would start the following Monday and would last the entire week, they had gotten special permission from the school to attend.

  The hotel itself is apparently high class enough that it has marble tiles, a very large chandelier in the lobby and very good indoor heating. Since the venue wasn’t that far away, the ride would take an hour via bullet train, in the end all of her friends accepted.

  What was weird though, aside from the contents of the letter itself, was that some of her friends’ parents were invited to attend, even her mother. But no one minded it, simply putting it up to luck.

  But that wasn’t what was filling Shizuku’s mind. Far from it. What occupied her thoughts now was far less dramatic and far more personal. How would she handle herself during the event? It was her first time attending a cultural exchange.

  That might have been the case for most of her friends; however, she was the type to worry and fret over manners and etiquette, and above all else, the right thing to say. She was simply afraid that she might say or do something she shouldn’t have.

  Despite having competed on a national level, kendo was different and was simple in its own way. It only involved hitting an opponent, which was easy and straightforward, even predictable, she admitted to herself.

  Compared to that, talking to a person, a person who would not be able to understand what she was saying, or might get offended by what she did, or if a certain gesture might be offensive towards the other person, was definitely daunting. Shizuku was afraid and that fear was causing her to feel more nervous than necessary.

  She did have some foreign friends, one a half-Japanese who is living overseas, and two Americans. They were—no scratch that, the one living overseas was—something else, the other two, both of whom were her classmates, however, were pleasant companions.

  But those three were different. They could understand her and she could understand them just fine. It was the people who couldn’t understand her that made her nervous.

  At some point Shizuku imagined that she resorted to using sign language and she gave a gesture that offended the other person, potentially ruining the trip for everyone else.

  She shook her head.

  An idea formed at the back of her mind. She could try calling that friend of hers to ask for his opinion. That friend of hers—was definitely something. Not shy, that’s for sure, but was smart and she needed to ask how could she speak to people who could not understand her—or at least get advice on how to approach people when words failed.

  But that thought faded as soon as it came and she sighed. She didn’t even know how international calls worked let alone the country he was staying at. She reminded herself to ask him the next time he visited.

  Shizuku shook her head again.

  She was running now and she needed to focus not only on the ground ahead but also on her breathing. She needed to keep her thoughts on the path through the quiet streets to prevent any accidents during her run. One misstep and she would end up worrying about a twisted ankle instead of international etiquette.

  And that, she definitely didn’t have time for.