100 Gates – PD Kalnay

Is she… well?” “She was flown to Kenoshiro. She is not well.” “Where are Akihiko and Kimiko?” Matt asked. “They were ordered back to Yarinoshiro, by their grandmother. Akihiko asked me to protect you until you woke. He sent Aoi Sato home.” “Why?” “She will last longest there.” Matt stared at his lap wishing he could ask more complex questions? “I wish you spoke English,” he told his lap more than Hattori-san.

“I speak English,” Hattori-san said with a hint of an English accent. “I watched over my mistress for eight years in London.” That raised a host of other questions that Matt ignored. He had bigger worries. “Why will Aoi last longest in Kenoshiro? Why isn’t she in a hospital?” “There is nothing medicine can do. Her spirit has been stolen. What you might call her soul although I don’t know if they are the same.

Only the body remains. It will live longest in Kenoshiro because that is her home, the place she is strongest. Sending her there allows her family an opportunity to say goodbye.” It was all impossible. Matt wanted to say it was a bunch of superstitious nonsense and tell him that she needed real medical attention. The words wouldn’t come out. “Where is her spirit now?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but…” The old man frowned. “But?” “It is likely in Yomi, where the eight thunders reside. It may have already been… consumed.” He remembered Kimiko saying something about thunder before he passed out. “What was that giant thunder monster thing?” “A god—or a part of one. Even a piece of an old god is powerful. What you saw was only its shadow, split off and sent out as a servant. There’s nothing you can do for Aoi Sato, except remember her sacrifice.” “A spirit can’t return to its body?”

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine, or journal. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental. 1kitap1.com/en PART 1 – TOKYO 1kitap1.com/en A 1 rusty Chevy Suburban bounced along a rough, winding mountain road.

The tailpipe spewed steam and a blue-black haze of burnt-oil smoke. Hank Minamoto kept the old truck out of nostalgia, a deep-seated love of cargo capacity, and because it handled well in the snow. Gas mileage was another story. It might have been cheaper for the three of them to fly. Jenny wanted to take her little Mercedes, and he’d have gone for that, but the damn thing was in the shop again. For the price… her car should never break down.

The truck rattled like a spaceship on reentry as it crested a pothole, doing sixty. Hank squinted at the road ahead. High beams illuminated short, curving stretches of asphalt and the closest trees, but left the surrounding forest shrouded in mystery. Moonlight glinted dully on a guardrail that slithered across the mountain’s slope like a galvanized boa constrictor— intent on strangling the peak. They’d driven for hours since leaving the tournament in Boulder, without a word spoken. The truck’s radio finally died, a week back, making the stereo a sarcophagus for the cassette tape jammed inside for the last twelve years.

It was Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA, and silence was preferable to listening to Side B for the millionth time. The only sounds were the hum of tires on pitted asphalt and air whistling through a window, cracked in a vain attempt at drawing out the stench of sweaty teenager. Matt’s final match put a damper on what Hank had pictured as a pleasant family road trip.

He decided it was past time to upgrade the truck’s sound system and that Matt had sulked for long enough. Hank leaned over and glanced up into the rear-view mirror. He filled half of it before finding his son. Except for coarse black hair, buzzed down to stubble, dark brown eyes, and eyelids that earned him the nickname Chink Eyes in elementary school, Hank exhibited no features marking his Japanese heritage.

Matt’s round, blue eyes stared sullenly back. “You lost focus at the end,” Hank told him. “Second place is still something to be proud of,” Jenny said. “It was an open tournament, and Matt was the youngest in his weight class.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 9428f58f7dbd45ae
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 3,887,236 bytes (3.707 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9781988876016
• Pages: 485
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 879.49 minutes
• Total Words: 175,897
• Total Characters: 983,854
• Average Words per Page: 362.67
• Average Characters per Page: 2028.56

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