Chapter 1

Not enough has been said about the southern islands of Chaos. The villages imported from the Orient of 12th and 13th century Nippon were generally complete with the skills and trades represented during the era; farmers, metal smiths, wineries and the like. 12th and 13th century Japan was more technologically advanced than similar developmental periods in Europe.

The Native names for Japan are Yamato, Nihon and Nippon.

During the third-century CE the inhabitants were called Wa by the Chinese, Wa denotes dwarf or submissive. Japanese scribes found fault with its offensive connotation, and officially changed the native name for Japan, Yamato. The earliest record appears in the Chinese Old Book of Tang, which notes the change in 703 when Japanese envoys requested that its name be changed. It is believed that the name change within Japan itself took place sometime between 665 and 703.

Around 1300 Marco Polo called Japan ‘Cipangu’.

In the 16th century Jepang, Jipang, and Jepun were used by European traders. Those terms are beyond the time of ‘change’ and would not have been used by the ‘importees.’

The author uses the terms he knows... Japan ... and its inhabitants, Japanese.

EXCERPTS from the JOURNALS

When Sato-san first entered Crossroads he was ‘dressed’ ... clothed ... traditionally.

When he was disgusted with the typhoon ‘rescue’ mission, three weeks is generally past the life expectancy of survivors at sea, he passed through the portal wearing his uniform ... with the attendant dissolving of artificial thread, metal buttons, zippers, badges, and caps.

Mioko was astonished. The genuine article was mostly nude ... not quite nude enough for her purposes ... it didn’t take long.

Temporally sated, she took him on a tour of her new ‘offices.’ Her rooms were not the business offices of your average Crossroads Caretaker. This was home of the official representative person for the village. In western Japan, the term Shoya was the commonly used name, and Nanushi was the commonly used name in eastern Japan. In our case, mayor works. The dwellings layout was a step up from a villagers domicile.

A well remembered voice peremptorily said, “Sato-san.”

“Ceiling-sama,” Sato gave the measured bow of one lesser bureaucrat to a superior administrator. Ceiling, as the superior, did not bow in kind.

“An account of your duties this past period,” Ceiling ordered.

This was expected ... performed ... and accepted.

Governmental duties over, Sam said, “I see you’ve picked up some interesting bacteria. Mioko!”

She gave a subservient bow, “Sam-sama?”

“Come soak.”

“Yes, Sam-sama.”

“Mahiro-san? You come too.”

Mioko approached the shoji, knelt to one side, slid the shoji open. Mahiro-san passed through, Mioko stood, passed through, knelt, closed the slider and stood.

Sam was much improved ... a round, iron-strapped, cedar tub in a room with a wall of clear shoji looked out at the edge of a bamboo forest giving way to an oriental garden. The illusion was so perfect that the bamboo trunks rattled as they swayed slightly in the breeze ... very harmonious.

She bowed to the chamber, “Did I do it right?”

Sam said, “Mioko-chan, you performed perfectly.”

She beamed.

Once through the sliding Zen shoji, at the ‘new’ and ‘improved’ multi-person healing tank, Mioko and Mahiro disrobed, showered, scrubbed each other and slipped into the steaming fluid.

The bath was fragrantly hot, relaxing to the point of drowsing ... and then the maids came in. Three perfect Japanese teens ... nude and giggling...

Mahiro said, “Sam ... you didn’t.”

“I did ... what do you think about that?”

“I think I’m going to love it here.”