Only moonlight illuminates the room, piercing the pair of small, rectangular windows above Teruya's cot.
He's a man of simplicity, requesting little for his stay and bringing even less. His luggage can be contained in the kimono—and has been for most of the day. Now, Teruya's cell phone, bi-fold wallet, and katana are all laid out on the lone table in simple, perfect order. His kimono hangs on the lone hanger, obscuring the Japanese military suit behind it.
In Teruya’s opinion, the day had been a waste. General Wright had given him the details, but it hadn't been enough to move forward with the mission. He'd admittedly been surprised that General Wright was so far removed from his remaining kin that he didn't know where they lived. Of course, the look in the general's...
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