Josh: Welcome To Japan, Mr. Bond

This is the first time I've ever written a post first with pen and paper (I know, those are still around? Who knew?), then typed it up later, but as all our electronic equipment was blown out I didn't have a whole lot of choice.

I'll recap a bit then continue where Mary left off, filling you in on the happenings of the last two days:

As we continued north to Japan, we all began noticing a low hum, combined with a high-pitched whine. We thought it was probably the engine out of joint somehow, so Riku and Mochizuki opened the hatch and began poking around the motor, commenting to each other in Japanese and doing a lot of shrugging. As we continued the hum got louder and louder until finally Captain Maeda decided to shut things down so they could better attempt to diagnose the problem.

Problem was, the motor stopped but the sound didn't.

It was then that Riku rose from the engine and went to the side of the boat, pointing and shouting. Mary's post was right, there were hundreds of whales surrounding us in constant motion, the water churning with their passing. The Captain scrambled up to the top of the boat with his binoculars, and shouted down that they were moving around us in a circle, with another circle being formed right next to it.

"Like a figure eight?" Mary called up to him. He nodded. She turned to me. "Infinity."

The Captain, Mochizuki, Riku and Mary all put their hands to their heads suddenly as the hum and vibration increased a notch, with Mary complaining that her teeth hurt so bad she felt like they might explode.

Riku staggered back from the rail, and Mochizuki translated for him, informing us that the sensation was worse the further you got from the center of the boat. Meanwhile, though the sound and sensation was annoying, I really can't say I was in much, if any pain.

The hum upped its intensity again, and I could hear the rivets in the boat rattling in their holes. Another moment, and the anchor came free from its mooring and plunged into the ocean, the chain clacking its way over the side behind it. Immediately Riku lunged aft to secure it, the Captain right behind him.

As the two men reached the rear of the boat, their hands covering their ears, they reached down for the black anchor chain and then suddenly were gone. There was no puff of smoke or flash of light, it was just: one second they were there and the next they weren't. In less than the blink of an eye, Captain Maeda and Riku disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Stunned and blinking, I stood there dumbfounded for a moment and even called the men's names, but to no avail. Then the hum increased in magnitude once more, and I could now hear the silverware in the tiny galley jangling in its drawer.

The sound gave me an idea. If the knife could hurt Crayton, maybe it could be used against the whales as well as both seemed to be doing the Magician's bidding. Perhaps all of his creations and lackeys were vulnerable to it.

Mary and Mochizuki were huddled at my feet in the center of the deck, their hands wrapped around their heads, and I shouted to them that I was going to use the knife. "How?" she yelled through clenched teeth.

It was a good question. The intensity of the hum was increasing by the second, and I imagined we only had moments before we too would disappear like the Captain and poor Riku. I obviously couldn't reach down from the boat's deck and start stabbing whales. For one thing I couldn't reach and for another there were just too many of them.

Without waiting for a plan to come to me I darted below, threw open the door to our cabin and hastily lugged the steamer trunk out onto the deck. Tearing open the trunk lid, I scrambled through the artifacts: the knife, the top hat, the cape and the box of bingo charms. First I picked up the knife, then the top hat, the key chain held within its secret compartment rattling inside. Shaking my head I replaced the hat, then grasped the cape, lifting it up, and for a split second I almost thought I could hear a child's desperate, plaintive cry, but then it was gone.

Finally I opened the box of bingo charms, their garish colors and designs looking surreal and ridiculous in the situation. I spared a glance at Mary and Mochizuki, the two of them curled up in the fetal position and looking like they wouldn't last more than another moment. I stared at the knife in my hand and then at the bingo charms, shrugged and muttered, "When in doubt, stab something. It's worked this far." Holding the knife in both hands, I lifted it up and stabbed down into the box, the knife's blade striking one of the metal charms and creating a single, blindingly-bright, white spark.

There was what sounded almost like an enormous sigh, like air was suddenly let out of something huge, and when my vision cleared I looked down and saw that the charm I hit had actually melted, the liquid flowing over the other charms and down to the bottom of the box.

It was suddenly, amazingly, blissfully quiet, and I helped Mary and Mochizuki to their feet and stepped over to the side of the boat, peering out over the ocean.

Every single one of the thousand or so whales that surrounded our boat was dead.


After we'd fired up the engines and slowly wended our way out of what had suddenly become an enormous whale graveyard, we gunned it for Japan, unable to call for help as our radio and all our electronic equipment had somehow been fried out. I have a feeling that First Mate Mochizuki will rapidly become Captain Mochizuki, because all of his hard studying had paid off. He expertly guided us north (through a storm, no less) straight to Kyoto without delay, not even bothering to sleep for the next two days as he wanted to report the incident to the authorities as quickly as possible.

We hit port on a gray and drizzling early morning, and I was able to finagle a cellphone from one of the local fishermen to call Yoshida and let him know we were all right, and also to tell his uncles to make certain to hustle us into the country without anyone from customs involved.

Not more than ten minutes later, a sleek, black limousine materialized on the docks and disgorged three men in traditional Japanese garb. They were the only ones on the dock not dressed in Western-style clothes, but no one gave them a second look, other than to bow deeply and humbly. The brothers Yoshida were middle-aged and impeccably groomed, and they glared at both Mary with a look that transcended the language barrier by saying, immediately and without question: "We hate you."

Regardless of their personal feelings, their assistant ushered us into the limousine behind them, and after a brief, deeply-grateful farewell to Mochizuki we drove into Kyoto.

We were in the limo not more than fifteen minutes before it pulled to a stop in front of a sleek, silver skyscraper, the Yoshida brothers' assistant gesturing for us to exit the car, handing us each plastic swipe cards. "My masters wish you to know that you are under their protection while you are in Kyoto. Kisho-san requested of his venerable uncles that every courtesy and protection be extended to you, his comrades."

Mary and I looked at each other. "Yoshida called us his comrades?" I asked in disbelief.

"Every courtesy?" asked Mary, entirely dubious.

The assistant nodded. Mary and I looked back at each other, our expressions incredulous. The assistant continued, "A translator waits in your apartment. Is there anything else you require?" There was a long pause as the rain ran down our necks, soaking our clothes.

Finally I asked, "He said 'comrades'?"

Followed by Mary's, "Every courtesy?"

Bowing and nodding once more, the assistant got back in the car without another word, and the limousine glided off.

I shook my head. "If that's what Yoshida actually said, that's weirder than the whole whale thing."


Once we had reached our room, introduced ourselves to the interpreter (an adorable, young, Japanese girl named "Kimi", who giggled charmingly at every one of our questions [actual photograph below]) and showered, we settled in, me to write this post and Mary to start making phone calls, checking up on some things back in the States.

Reading our posts back, I now see all the crazy 'static' breaking up Mary's writing. "Hey, Mary, did you count these? The slashes break up the asterisks at every thirteenth interval. Is that what the whales were 'saying', you think? The number thirteen over and over again?" She shrugged. Breathing a sigh and running my hands through my hair, I said, "All I know is, I'm happy it's the 24th of November and not Friday the 13th, that's for sure."