"Is there something you're trying to tell me, Hasekura-sama?"

Hasekura looks at me intently, a glint of shrewdness in his eyes. "Yes, there is," he begins, unrolling the scroll slowly. "Have I informed you that I will be baptized once we reach Spain?"

He lays the scroll flat on the table, revealing a detailed map with various marked locations along our route.

"No, you haven't mentioned that before, Hasekura-sama. That sounds pretty significant," I say cautiously, "I suppose, getting older, you start to think a lot more about God."

"That is true." he laughs, "But that's not the reason I'm converting, Kajiwara."

Hasekura's eyes become serious again as he leans over the map. "No man travels to Rome for religious reasons. That's what Jerusalem is for."

"So, what are you saying? Tokugawa wants to make Japan Catholic? How well do you think that's going to go over for you?"

"Well, if that were true, it could go very well, Kajiwara. The Vatican is the spirit of Rome, which has persisted for well over a millennium in various ways despite it's failures; it controls half of Europe and more. But no, Lord Tokugawa is not seeking to evangelize Japan by any means. Quite the opposite; if we do not maintain strong relations with the Europeans, that will certainly set us up for disaster. The Council of Elders is well aware of the delicate balance of power and faith within the nation. A religious upheaval also means a political one."

"So what does any of this have to do with me?" I ask.

"Kajiwara, some people deserve more than their lot in life." he replies, patting me on the shoulder, "Had I not believed in you, I would have let you rot away with the rest of the rats in Hiroshima. But what I'm speaking of has nothing to do with political power. I can offer you much more than that."

"I'm listening." I reply, scratching my chin.

"Are you at all familiar with the reasons why the Spaniards first visited the New World?"

"Can't say I am. Wasn't it because of El Dorado or something like that?"

"That was just a legend, but some such legends tend better towards realism than more fantastical accounts, such as rumors regarding a spring that could make men youthful again, which is a tale popular amongst all the Europeans that is almost as old as Europe itself, or that the natives desperately needed to be converted because of their culture of savage rituals and pagan gods. The Spaniards went looking for resources to extract, and religious conversion and domestication served as a false pretense for colonizers. The Spaniards did in fact find great cities however; not cities of gold that they could plunder, but ones that were cut as if out of stone from diamond blades and hammers."

Hasekura pauses, ensuring he has my full attention before continuing. "But to be truthful, however fascinated the Spaniards were by the genius of the New Worlders, they did not truly appreciate the discoveries they had made. As I said, some of the natives were wont to engage in savage ritualistic practices in celebrations of war and dominance, ripping apart their enemies and sacrificing them, and so, much of their artifacts were discarded and burnt, cursed and disparaged as demonic."

"But that wasn't the end of it."

"No, of course not. In American jungles, it's not difficult to hide entire new cities effectively." he continues, "In fact, it was never uncommon for Indians to completely abandon their cities when they were being sacked by invaders. Both tribes and cities have a history of vanishing and reappearing decades later, according to local legends, and there are undoubtedly several still lost along the peninsula."

"Now I see what you're trying to say," I slam my hands on the table, "So you want me to find El Dorado, is that it?"

"No. It's much bigger than that. More specifically, I want you to find an artifact," he clears his throat, assuming a more serious demeanor, "To be quite honest with you, the account I am about to tell you will sound more farfetched than anything even the Spaniards are gullible enough to believe, and I would not have even bothered to learn anything about the New World had I not experienced it with my own two eyes. As you are familiar, there is more commerce between Manila and New Spain than anywhere else in Asia. Well, when I was in Manila I met a Dominican friar, named Sebastian Navarrete, who had twenty fingers."

"Twenty?"

"Yes, he had ten fingers on each hand. Not six, not seven, but ten. These are the kinds of events that are liable to cause thinking men to convert, but he told me openly and honesty that he was not born with ten fingers, and that he did not claim to be able to do this himself by virtue of his faith, such as by way of the saints and their miracles. In truth, as most spiritual men tend to be, he was born of a nomadic spirit, of such a degree that he is the type to wander off for months on end without warning, contemplating his relationship with God through his experiences traveling through and observing nature. On one such occasion, he departed from the monastery in Acapulco and wandered for several days until he entered the forest. Now, you might call such a man insane, but just as it is with explorers like myself, this is exactly the kind of environment in which the nomadic spirit thrives, and Sebastian claims that it was his faith which guided him through this forest, through danger, towards sources of food and water, 'til at last he approached a hidden and long forgotten city. He claimed that in the middle of the forest, he caught a scent that was more putrid than any other he had thus experienced, and that angels were instructing him to follow this scent until he reached his destination. When he did, he found several towering temples shaped like spirals, and these temples were made out of diamond, pure diamond, shining as brightly in the light of day as the stars in heaven at night. However, when the friar followed the scent, he reached a spiral tower, and inside of the tower, he was escorted by the temple priest to the rotting body of a giant, which according to the natives, had been rotting since before they arrived in the peninsula. The natives revered the corpse which remained untouched until, one day, a god came down from the Milky Way and instructed them to remove his heart, and when they did this, they found that his heart was made of pure gold."

My doubt must have shown on my face because Hasekura raises a hand, gesturing for patience. "I know what you're about to say, Kajiwara. 'What's so special about a heart that's made of gold? There are plenty of shapes and items that can be fashioned from gold.' But that's not the important part. The important part is that, when presented with this gold heart, upon touching it, for reasons he did not understand, the priest imagined in his mind, his own two hands with twenty fingers, ten on each hand, and when he opened his eyes his imagination had become a reality. You see, the natives did not built this city with their hands, but rather, as they claim, it appeared as if out of thin air. They were instructed to manifest this city with the object, and to do nothing more with it, and they had anticipated the arrival of such a man for many millennia. They had a great festival in celebration of his arrival, and when the friar went to sleep in the temple that same night, he woke up in his bed in Acapulco the following morning."

"So, you believe this artifact actually exists, and it has the power to...what, create things out of thin air?"

"I do." he nods firmly, "Sebastian's story is just one of many accounts that the Vatican has followed and investigated extensively. They're willing to consider and exhaust any possibility in order to maintain their monopoly on knowledge, politics, trade, and things of that nature. That's why, when we reach Manila, I want you to accompany me to the Abbey so that you can meet the friar yourself."

We set sail a couple hours later, and I spend much of the journey wondering when it's gonna end, though it doesn't seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon. 

As the weeks pass, my sense of time becomes lost in the endless expanse of the sea. The rhythm of the day and night settles into my bones; the creak of the ship, the salt spray, the shifting skies. The crew around me are a hardy bunch, each with their own stories and reasons for being aboard the ship. I catch most of it in passing and never bother talking to anybody unless booze is involved. In the evenings, when the work of the day is done, they gather on deck, sharing tales and songs. I spend most of my time trying to blend into the background, and every once in a while I reward my own patience with a smoke, but I have to be economical, for obvious reasons.

Hasekura, for his part, spends much of the voyage in his cabin. Occasionally he calls us in to discuss business, but he hasn't said anything to me about Mexico since they day we set off, presumably because he doesn't want anybody to know about our deal. After what feels like an eternity, the Manila coastline comes into view, and a sense of relief washes over me. The air is filled with the sounds of merchants haggling, sailors shouting, and the general din of a thriving city. Baking in the sun with a wet towel over my face, I hear Hasekura's voice calling me. He's got one other man with him whose gonna be translating between Spanish and Japanese, name's Kawaguchi.

Kawaguchi is a lean man, with sharp features. Hasekura formally introduces us, explaining that Kawaguchi had lived in Manila for a few years at one point, after being fingered as a pirate and jailed.

"We have a lead to follow up on before meeting with Friar Sebastian," Hasekura says as we disembark. Kawaguchi leads the way, weaving through the crowded streets with a confidence that comes from familiarity. Our first stop is a small, nondescript building tucked away in a bustling street. Inside, we meet with a contact of Hasekura's, a local bishop named Padre Esteban. He's an older Spaniard with a face like an Easter Island head and an air of authority. Padre Esteban greets us warmly and invites us into a small, modestly furnished room at the back of the building. As we sit down, Hasekura, speaking through Kawaguchi, requests a meeting with Friar Sebastian. Padre Esteban listens, thumbs pressed up against each other coldly and calculatingly.

"So you want to introduce your pagan friend here to the friar without going through the motions of a conversion? That's going to be a difficult arrangement."

"It's important for our mission," he explains, maintaining a respectful demeanor. "He is to accompany me to Spain for my baptism, and then to the Vatican. Surely if he has encountered a saint and his miracles, and seen the light of the living God with his own two eyes, then he will be convinced; no man will question his presence there."

The Padre grips his chin with the tips of his fingers and gently closes his eyes for a second, before responding.

"I see," says the translator, following his words, "that won't be a problem then, but there's another thing I must inform you about: Padre Sebastian has a wayward spirit, and has not been seen at the monastery for a few days already. If you would like to speak with him, then you must seek his whereabouts. I fear though that this will deter your journey, so I may recommend that you seek some other means of conversion. We have other contacts in Mexico that..."

"Time is not an issue." interrupts Hasegawa as Kawaguchi speaks, "But if you could point us in the right direction, do you have any idea where the Padre may have wandered off to?"

The Padre hesitates for a moment before answering.

"Forgive me for being frugal with my speech, but I neglected to disclose to you the proper details of our predicament. You see, the areas northeast of Manila have a history of troubles with Chinese pirates, and it wouldn't be the first time that a priest had unlucked upon such scoundrels in his travels. A couple of days ago, an indescript ransom note was posted to the door of the San Agustin Church, detailing only the demands and a location of contact, and we haven't been able to get the Spaniards to address the problem with due haste. We aren't certain that it's him, but it's a significant issue nonetheless."

Hasekura's expression turns grim. "We need to find him urgently then. Can you provide us with the location? We can satisfy the demands mentioned in the note if need be."

Padre Esteban nods and retrieves a detailed map from a drawer in his desk. He unfolds it on the table and points to a specific location along the eastern coastline of the island. "The ransom note specifies an inn near the settlement of Baler. It's a small, unassuming place, but it's known to be a spot where dubious deals are often made. This area was only settled fairly recently by Franciscan monks, so it's still largely subject to renegade activities."

Hasekura scans the parchments with determination. "My men are going to take care of this. You'll see Padre Sebastian again before the week is over."

Hasekura stands up and the meeting ends. We thank the Padre for his assistance before exiting the building.