InsaneJournal

[narrative] bring him home
Characters: Shiro Yoshida
NPCs: Saburo Yoshida, Tomo Yoshida, office workers
Location: Saburo's office
Timeline: Around the time this is happening.
Description: Saburo is trying to look for a way to save his son -- but ends up watching the start of his son's execution.
Rating: PG/finished.
OOC: Anyone with an imagination should imagine that Saburo Yoshida is played by Ken Watanabe. #idowhatiwant

Everything was a mad frenzy in the office of Ambassador Saburo Yoshida.

It was almost as if Japan was in the verge of another war and they were coming into contact with their agents from absolutely anywhere in the world. Calls were ringing wherever there was space that could be filled by a cell phone. Assistants and other workers in sharp business suits were running around, holding out their mobile devices or screaming at someone. Coffee was everywhere, all cups gone cold.

They had a plan, of course. They would hire a chopper, although Saburo was adamant about a military helicopter, and would ask desperately for a squad of soldiers to fly to the site and eliminate the mastermind (one of the workers had so helpfully offered them Takeshi Kitano’s office address. He was sent out of the room two seconds after.) and rescue his son Shiro Yoshida and if they could, his partner Jaime Madrox. Everything would have sailed more smoothly if this was just within the SDF’s jurisdiction but no, it wasn’t. That was what gave Saburo the idea of asking the NATO’s aide. That, of course, was not going anywhere.

“Call the mercenaries!” Saburo demanded of his personal secretary. He was a daunting figure in his height and his fierce eyes and the deep frown in his face made it no better for the employees. “Call anyone with a private army! I will offer a reward!!”

“Ambassador,” someone ran up to him in her heels, holding up her pink flip phone with a hamster dangling from it to the level of his ear. “CBS on the line--”

Saburo snatched it from her as he paced his office, his black oak desk and kingly barcelona chair looking absolutely abandoned without his presence in it. “You do something about this or I will shut down your network! Do you understand me?!” He was fuming, and it was almost obvious from which parent Shiro got his mutation from, if not his temper. The man on the other line was trying to be calm but he was stammering, he kept repeating himself. Still, he managed to contain himself long enough to listen to the man’s chopped explanation. It was, of course, the same thing three calls back an hour ago. They were doing all they can, they were contacting certain people who can help, they would call him back once they’ve got something concrete to go on--

“If my son dies out there, there will be no rock. Where you can hide under and I will kill you with my own bare hands!!” he roared. And then the call ended.

If Saburo didn’t watch his grip, he could very well break the pink phone in his hand. His wide, carpeted office had three doors in it -- one that led out to his secretary’s office, one that led to the guest’s powder room and another that led out to his personal lounge. Whenever Shiro had a chance to visit him, that was his favorite place. Saburo could be in a meeting with his staff, Shiro would just walk in and greet him with a bow and Saburo would wave him away while he opened the black door to the lounge and shut himself there. Saburo would join him after, make a note of how he was wasting energy by turning on the TV and then browsing on his phone, anyway. This was their normal hi-and-hello-how-do-you-do.

This was also what had happened at that moment. Someone had walked in, bowed to him but he did not wave him away while he let himself through the lounge. The TV came on and the door was left open.

“Get me Xavier, I want to talk to him!” Saburo roared to his staff as he marched towards his lounge where sat the shape of his younger brother Tomo Yoshida in the place where Shiro normally slouched in. He was switching the channels.

And then settled to one that was set in a tropical forest, cut in four panels, each with their own actors.

The pink phone Saburo kept in his hand had escaped him as he threw it to Tomo’s head where it landed with a smack. Tomo yelped and cowered from him. It would have been hilarious had no one’s life been in the line here... “Shut that thing! I don’t want to see that thing!!”

“But Oniisan,” Tomo sighed as he straightened up, rubbing the swelling on his head. “You have to see this.” He was strangely calm for an uncle whose nephew could lose his head anytime now.

Saburo had opened his mouth to yell again -- but his son spoke.

“Hold on, Jaime, just give me a minute,” Shiro said.

It was amazing how one voice, how one man could quell a rage worthy of a third world war. Saburo almost forgot himself as he stood gaping at the screen, listening to the sound of his son’s footfalls as Shiro (lower right panel) waved to his partner (upper right panel) and walked away, towards the lower left panel. The upper left one remained empty besides trees and the mechanical birds.

“Shiro!!” he cried and soon, Saburo was on his knees, his face five inches away from his high-definition screen as the office fell quiet...and then there was the thunder of running steps as his assistants crowded at the door.

Shiro was twisting his collar as he entered the lower left panel and stepped towards the second tree from its frame. He hunched over it, one hand on the bark, and began to throw up.

Saburo was almost obsessed at the sight of it, although many of the faces in the door had turned to look away. What an inappropriate thing to see of the ambassador’s one heir.

Tomo leaned forward and rested his chin on his fists.

Jaime...or one of him had crossed the upper right panel to the lower left one and placed a hand on Shiro's back. "You okay?" he might have asked because Shiro nodded. "I'm fine," he said. "Go and make camp, I'll be with you..."

He turned to watch Jaime walk back to the upper right panel...and then looked up to the camera as if he felt his father’s gaze on him. He looked down to his feet, then around him. He took two steps back, and picked up what appeared to be a rock and tossed it in his hand, turning to the camera, again.

And then with a pose that would make many baseball players cringe, he heaved the thing at the screen -- and the panel blanked out in white noise.

Saburo let out a desperate howl for his son but what for, no one knew. Was it because his son had just cut out what could have been Saburo’s one connection to him?

Or was it the shape of a massive stranger making his entrance in the upper left panel?