—

“Just how many pocket watches do you own?” Jones had caught Hakuba comparing his pocket and wrist watch now four times in the past hour.

“About… four or five, I think? Depending on your strict definition of pocket watch.”

“And do you keep them all on your person?”

Hakuba glanced up from the billiards table at Jones and inclined his head curiously. “No, not all of them. Usually just one or two and a wrist watch… and my cell phone.”

The agent frowned, leaning back on his pool cue, sighing. “You really are a particular one, aren’t you? Why in the world do you need so many time pieces?”

“Accuracy, for one…” Hakuba said then, returning to his position, leaned over the table to measure the projected trajectory of his next shot. “The, ah, silver pocket watch that I carry is incredibly precise. It only loses 0.001 seconds per year.”

“Is there a reason that you need to be that precise, Hakuba?”

The detective laughed, adjusted the pool cue, and pulled back just so. “My grandfather owns a laboratory where I’m permitted to do my research work. Spend enough time with scientists and engineers and you learn that, at times, even the smallest measurement makes all the difference." 

He took the shot, sending the ball rolling which then subsequently knocked one ball into another, creating a chain reaction that pushed four into the pockets. Hakuba straightened up and palmed the chalk into his hand, offering a smirk to the other man. 

Jones rolled his eyes. "Your go again, I guess. Do you ever get tired of being so smug?”

“Sometimes, yes.” Instead of lining up the next shot, Hakuba shifted the cue into the crook of his arm and fished out the aforementioned silver pocket watch, examining the time, then compared it to that on his wrist watch. 

“Is that it, then? The ‘Master Watch’?”

“Ah, yes… yes it is.” Hakuba snapped the lid closed, then ran his thumb over the engraved cover. “Would you like to see it?”

“Am I allowed to touch it?”

Hakuba laughed, and passed it over the table. “It’s an heirloom of sorts, but it’s not exactly fragile. It’s been in my possession, literally almost everywhere I’ve gone, since I was eight. I’m fairly certain that it will be fine.”

“Was this your father’s, then?” Jones turned it over once, then handed it back. It was a fine watch, to be sure, but he didn’t see anything particularly special about it.

“Oh, I suppose so. Ah, he… was to inherit the watch when my grandfather died.”

“But he’s not dead.”

“No, no… he’s very much alive.”

“Then how did you get possession of it?”

Walking around the table, Hakuba found the spot to set up his next shot.  "Ah, well… my father stole it from him.“ He put his arms and body into position, double-checked the angles, and hit the ball again with a clatter.

"Stole… it?”

“After my grandfather said that I was to be cut out of the inheritance. We’d known that it would happen, but it was still somewhat of a shock when the announcement was made.”

Jones stayed quiet, watching the balls as they rolled across the smooth table surface and into additional pockets. He’d heard about that, but hadn’t realized…

“So he took it from my grandfather’s glass case and brought it home for me. He pressed it right into my palm and told me that I was still a member of the Hakuba family, regardless of what the old man said, and that the watch was proof of that.”

“That’s… sweet. And illegal.”

Hakuba laughed. “Well, as I don’t exist, my grandfather has decided to assume that it’s just been lost. That’s… actually why I have unrestricted access to the laboratory, too. My father sets up my accounts and access, as he has no limitations, and I do as I like. And much like a phantom thief, I’ve put measures in place to ensure that I’m never tracked and… we get along famously ignoring each other’s presences." 

"Still unfortunate. Does this mean that you’ll never inherit this manor or anything? Or get any of the money?”

“As it stands, that is the current arrangement. But, not to worry…  Proverbs 14:30 – A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot. I make my own fortune as it is, and as it should be. I’m not concerned by what they think of me. I may not be full-blooded Japanese, but I’m a Hakuba through and through. The family tree just… begins with my father is all.”

“No wonder you like London so much.”

“Paris is better.”

“You’re never satisfied… That’s the trouble with you, Saguru.”

“You’re very likely correct in that, Jones…" 

He knew that something was off when the teacher asked ‘Hakuba, S. James’ to stay after class.  The boy nodded obediently and waited until all of the others were gone before he slid off of the hard wooden chair with his book bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he took a moment to straighten his tie and regulation suit jacket, then walked past the aisles of chairs toward the front where his instructor waited.

“James, Father Ramson had some questions about your last test results.” The instructor, Sister Fairmore, raised her brow at the young boy, expression skeptical and stern.

Lowering his bag so that both arms would be at his sides, Hakuba tried to force a small, polite smile. Even after all these months, he still had trouble remembering the minute differences between Japanese and English schools. Hard, written rules aside, there were thousands of little nuances that had to be memorized and practiced. Posture, head movements, hand gestures, word choice, intonation… so many things to keep track of. But he was determined.

The boy nodded his head, but resisted the urge to bow, and raised his chin so that he could make eye contact with the sister.

“Yes, Sister Fairmore.”

The woman nodded her head once; a sign of approval, and then held out a slip of white paper. “Take this and go up to his office. It’s nearly eight o’clock now, so he should be back from the evening council meeting. He’s expecting you; please don’t keep him waiting.”

The boy reached for the slip and nodded again, catching himself with a ‘hai’ on the tip of his tongue. “Yes, Sister Fairmore.”

She gestured toward the door which ushered him off, carefully carrying his bag under his arm. Hakuba knew very well what would happen if he was late. Punishment with a ruler or paddle was not uncommon at White Chapel Academy. He himself had managed to avoid being punished for the most part. Usually.  But, as spoken dogma that they recited every morning before church services- no one was without sin, no one was infallible.

Hakuba walked through the crowded, after-evening classes hallways. The other students, all also in uniform, smiled and laughed at their lockers, but it was all subdued. Everyone was subdued when on the grounds. It was only in the dormitories that the boys really let themselves misbehave.

The adjoining cathedral’s bells began to drone out the hour as the blond-haired boy began his climb up the winding stone stairways to the higher level, where the administrating offices were. He wondered, briefly, what Father Ramson wanted to speak to him about. His test scores were always excellent; there was no concern about that.  Still, he found himself nervous as he walked briskly down the hallway to the large, wooden door of the priest’s office.  After running a hand through his shaggy hair, he took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

The deep baritone voice of the priest sounded through the door with confidence and authority that intimidated Hakuba. He’d met with Father Ramson before, and the meetings had always been interesting and insightful. Father Ramson despite being Headmaster, was easily the most friendly and amiable of the staff there, but somehow, that almost made him more impressive, more intimidating. Hakuba opened the door and stepped in quietly, making sure to make eye contact before he looked down at the floor again.

“Ah, James. Please, close the door and come here.”

The boy did as he was asked and approached once the heavy wooden door clicked closed. He approached and came to stand before the large, wooden desk, noticing then that there weren’t any chairs set out for him. Not that it was that important; one thing that England and Japan had in common was that it was polite to be asked to take a seat instead of just taking one. So, he stood with his bag, and kept his eyes level, not quite matching the priest’s face, but making the appearance of it.

This was an uncomfortable distinction between the two countries in which he spent the majority of this time. The English, similar to the Americans he knew, were much more confrontational in their mannerisms. It was difficult to not show what the British termed as ‘weakness’ in front of his peers and superiors. This show of challenge was something that he was not adept at doing naturally. Still, he made the attempt.

After several moments of silence, the boy standing there, the priest reading over several sheets of paper that he held in his right hand, Father Ramson looked up at the boy and offered a warm sort of smile.

“Thank you for waiting. Do you have your exam results?”

Hakuba offered the slip of paper to the man and nodded his head. “Yes, Father Ramson.”

“Good.”

The priest let his eyes scan the paper before setting it down on top of the pile and then leaned back in his chair, gaze falling on the boy with evaluating interest.

“Your latest test results were impressive. You’ve only been here about six months, is that correct?”

Hakuba nodded and, as an afterthought, added a quiet, “Yes, Father Ramson.”

The priest seemed pleased by this and nodded, gaze returning to the paperwork at hand. “Very good. We  – the other priests and I – agree that you have acclimated to society here very well. Your previous school was in Japan, then?”

“Yes, Father Ramson.”

“Ah, yes. Again, impressive. It’s not easy for someone to adapt so easily. It’s been brought to my attention that there have been a few slipups here and there, but of course no one is infallible, right?”

“Yes, Father Ramson.”

The priest pushed back from the desk and got to his feet, walking slowly toward the fireplace that was mostly dimmed. “It is all a part of God’s plan, of course – we are put on this Earth to suffer and make any attempts that we can to be saved by His gracious hand. Born as imperfect sinners, we are inclined to be wretched. I’m certain that you saw quite a lot of this in Japan, godless heathens and all that rot.”

Hakuba stayed silent, letting his gaze lower to look at the papers on the desk. He couldn’t read what any of them said, but they served as a distraction enough.

Father Ramson set another log onto the fire and withdrew the fire poker from the iron basket next to the grate, taking his time to stir the burning coals to life.  “I am pleased that you have come here – I believe that your mother was right in sending you to this school. It will likely be the difference between heaven and hell for you, boy. It’s not right for someone with your potential to walk among the unclean things at such a tender age. Perhaps when you are a missionary for the church…  Not that I expect you to proselyte, necessarily, but it occurs to me that you would be a worthy addition to our staff here. Have you given more thought to Cambridge?”

The boy lifted his head in surprise at the question, swallowing back the uncomfortable lump that had formed in his throat with the earlier invasive statements of intolerance. “Cambridge, sir?”

“Father Ramson,” the priest corrected with the patience of a saint, turning back to give him another warm smile.

Hakuba winced visibly, nervously sliding his free hand against the side of his coat, smoothing down the tweed fabric under his sweaty palms. “Cambridge, Father Ramson?”

“Yes. You recall our previous discussion, correct?”

The boy pushed an embarrassed smile and managed a small chuckle – but it was all nervous. Normally, he was prepared for anything, but this was something a little out of his league – at present. “I… I have, Father Ramson. But I’m only just nine years old…”

“It’s never too early to consider your future, child. Particularly with what you’ve told me of your father’s side of the family.”

Hakuba couldn’t very well argue with this point. Glancing down at his regulation shoes and knee socks, the boy swallowed again, but nodded. “That is true, Father Ramson, and a… a fair point.”

“What are you willing to do to make them acknowledge you? To see you as part of their family, a worthy successor to the Hakuba family name?”

“An-anything, Father Ramson.”

“I would very much like to get a commitment from you to devote your life to God.”

The boy blushed over his cheeks, mind stuttering to come up with a reply to that. “Well… I suppose that I do intend to, in a way, Father Ramson. My father is the Chief of Police in our district in Japan, and I plan to study law.”

Father Ramson turned back to the fire, stirring the coals with a steady hand, using his free hand to add another log to the fire. “Study law? Interesting. And how will that, in any way, serve God?”

“Reason without passion is…”

The priest shook his head, getting to his feet again. He slipped the poker back into its cage and then turned back to Hakuba, letting out a sigh. “Yes, I have heard that before. Please answer my question directly, James.”

“With the truth of God’s word, I will be able to see through the deception and lies of man and bring about justice in His name…”

“So, you intend to become a lawyer?”

Hakuba bit his lip but stood his ground. “I… I have not yet decided, Father Ramson. But something along those lines, I suppose. I could follow in my father’s footsteps and join the force, too.”

“In Japan?”

The boy shrugged. “Anywhere, really. It doesn’t entirely matter to me where I go.”

“As long as you’re able to serve God?”

“Yes, Father Ramson.”

The priest nodded again and closed the space between him, keeping that same smile fixed on his face. Hakuba stood stone still as the man reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder, looking down at his face approvingly.

“Ah, to be so young, so innocent, so naive  From the mouth of babes, they say…  there will be plenty of time to mold you into a worthy young man for the church… for God’s will.”

Hakuba’s smile, crooked at best wavered, but he nodded. He knew already where he was supposed to be – in law, somewhere, somehow – but he knew that he had to be complacent and accommodating for his superiors. After all, he was a man of God.

“Yes, Father Ramson.”

“With an open mind, you are sure to understand what His purpose is for you. Allow me to help you on your journey, James.”

The hand on his shoulder moved up to his neck, where the long, thick fingers of the priest gently moved against the boy’s soft skin. Hakuba tilted his head to look up at the priest, brows knitting in confusion.

“Hai – er, yes, Father Ramson,” the boy said, forcing himself to stay pleasant. It was an honor to have such an important figure take interest in his future. He knew that it was moments like this, in confidence, that doors were opened for future possibilities. Still, he wasn’t used to the personal space being so closed. In Japan, everyone seemed quite content to restrict physical contact to a bare minimum. “I’m… honored to have your tutelage, Father.”

The priest continued to look down at him, smiling, as his hand moved up to the back of Hakuba’s head, fingers trailing through the boy’s feathered hair. “In order to prepare you, you will be held to more restrictions. There is nothing gained without sacrifice. While we have been lenient, you are now a member of this school and must follow all regulations. Including more frequent haircuts, James… it’s unbecoming.”

Hakuba’s cheeks tinted further and he nodded awkwardly, frowning at the comment. “Yes, Father Ramson… I apologize for my lack of attention…”

“Oh, don’t apologize to me, James… it is God that you have offended by your apathy. But, with proper repentance…”

“Of course, Father Ramson… I… I go to confession weekly. I will be sure to-“

“Weekly?” the priest shook his head again, resting his  palm on top of the boy’s head. “Daily, James. Certainly you understand that a sin of the heart is as punishable as actually acting on it, and, no unclean thing…”

Hakuba blanched, dropping his gaze to the floor again. “But, Father, I… I haven’t… I don’t…”

“Humility, James. Your pride will be your downfall. As we were discussing earlier, your potential requires greater sacrifice. You will have to be that much harder on yourself if you want the gifts of God to manifest; if you want to be a true instrument in His hands…”

“Of course, Father. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.”

“I’ll go to confession straight away in the morning, Father.”

“In the morning? Can your soul really wait that long?”

In the panic of being so unprepared for this, feeling so foolish and stupid and naive  Hakuba’s mind reeled. What was he supposed to do? He craved Father Ramson’s respect and approval more than anything that he could think of. “No, of course not… what… what can I do, Father?”

The priest moved his hand down along Hakuba’s cheek and brought his fingertips under the boy’s chin, lifting his head so that he the boy was looking up at him.

“There now, child… there is something that you can do.”

—