My Ninja Girl 4 by Gideon Caldwell (latest novels to read .TXT) 📕

“That’s because it is a secret diplomatic mission, meaning that we’re trying not to let the general public know about it,” Bunni informed him.

“This all comes as a surprise…” he said, his eyes starting at Micah and moving to the ninjas and their athletic gear, and finally to Micah’s grandmother, who was now leaning with one hand against the counter, an agitated look on her face.

“Look, fellah, unless you want war with Neo-Hokkaido over treatment of dignitaries, as well as every armed septuagenarian in my country, and you want that war to be caused by your poor understanding of our top-secret operations, I suggest you prepare the presidential suite for us and do it fast, before I get angry,” said Micah’s grandmother. “Funds will be transferred either tomorrow or the day after, and we would like not to be bothered during that time. Further, we need clothing. Our bags were stolen.”

“Ahem, did you say stolen?”

“So you can hear me with those big ears of yours. As you can see, this one doesn’t exercise,” she said, motioning to Choro, who was biting his lip, “and he’s my personal bodyguard. As is this one,” she gestured toward Milsung. “Which is why they are in their original clothing. The others all decided to work out at a park near here, even though we told them to wait until we got to the hotel, that you likely had a facility here. You do have an exercise facility, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to finish. “Well, some hooligans—four of them if you must know, tall fellows who seemed drunk, high, and possibly horny—stole our luggage, their luggage. But our luggage too. Our luggage was with them. We were at a tea shop. That’s why they’re wearing athletic outfits; well, not because we were at a tea shop, but because our luggage was with them and they were in the park exercising and, like I said, four of your countrymen stole our bags. Look…” Her eyes fell onto the clerk’s nametag. “Sven?”

“Yes?”

“What the hell kind of name is that? I hate it. Hate the way my mouth feels when I pronounce it. And believe me, I know what this looks like, that the eight of us simply came in off the street after sneaking our way into your country from Woodsaka while being hunted by the Society of Monks and the Hermetics, but that is not the case. We have a very important top-secret diplomatic trade mission, and I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you how disappointed I am with how your country has treated us so far.”

“I see…” Sven said, flipping through the paper again.

“Put that damn clipboard down and look me in the eyes, son!”

The hotel clerk did as he was instructed.

“Now,” Micah’s grandmother said, “do you want to go down in history as the man, the dimwitted, balless Sven—still hate pronouncing that one—who thwarted a potential once-in-a-lifetime truce between Jokamatchi and Heian on the basis of trade, one brokered by Neo-Hokkaido? Or do you want to go down in history as the man who made it happen, the big dick hero who had faith in total strangers and was smart enough not to question their ludicrous story simply because no one in their right mind could make up something so fantastic?”

“I…” he said as he flipped through his clipboard once again.

“Enough! I will only ask you one more time.” Micah’s grandmother leaned in real close, her nostrils flaring as she glared the man down. “Which will it be?”

It came as no surprise to Micah that the first thing his grandmother did once they arrived in their presidential suite was to order food and liquor, the elderly woman telling the hotel clerk named Sven to charge it to the Jokamatchian Embassy, along with the clothing, and to ‘hurry the fuck up,’ in her words.

“Those isolationistic fools are good for it,” she said after the clerk left.

“How about we try not to draw more attention to us?” Micah asked her as he removed his bucket helmet, Liza doing the same.

“We’re going to need money soon, which means Choro and you will need to get to work figuring out how you are going to keep us ladies well-fed and entertained.” His grandmother hobbled over to a chair and plopped down. “My poor feet. Had I known I’d be signing up for a cross-country trip today, I would have worn a different pair of loafers. Who am I kidding? I don’t have any other shoes at the moment. Maybe they have someone on staff who can rub my feet.”

“You’ll be fine,” Micah told his grandmother as he moved past her and took in the place.

The presidential suite consisted of the entire top floor of the hotel, including its curved top, which operated as a second floor that had vaulted ceilings. The space was open, the wood grain floors unlike anything Micah had seen in his country. The furniture was different as well, no hard edges, everything rounded. The suite was made to be lived in, with a slick kitchen and the dining room area notable with its large windows overlooking Muryane. This was the first place Micah went, still finding it odd to see the other country, especially from such a stunning perspective. He also noticed something different about the floating districts, Lepus and Tapeti tethered together by long tunnels, foregoing the transport slings common in Neo-Hokkaido.

“Micah and I have dibs on the upstairs room,” Yuri announced as she stepped up to him, which was surprising because she usually wasn’t so vocal about things like that. She placed her hand into his, and Micah felt the ring he had given her, the one that was able to enhance her industria output.

“There are plenty of rooms,” Milsung said. Yuri’s sister had already