HISAO
“Don’t be in such a hurry. We have an hour before we have to check out,” Iwanako calls out from the restroom, before turning on the water to clean her toothbrush.
I wait for the water to be turned back off, lest I be greeted with a ‘What?’ in response to anything I might say. I might as well check again to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind, even though I never really unpacked.
Once I hear the water stop, I respond. “I dread deadlines, even little ones like checkout times, even if I’m fully prepared. I always feel like I’m forgetting something.”
“What’s to forget? If anyone was going to leave something behind by mistake, it would be me. I’ve been here a week now.”
And a very eventful week at that. I don’t know exactly what part you will play from here, but you are most definitely a part of my life again, and I am a part of yours. At the same time, I would not be where I am, or who I am, without Neko. It feels very strange to be leaving her behind, if only temporarily.
Once we check out, the time passes in a blur. I feel like a tourist in my own adopted city, with no home for the rest of the day. It seems like we are constantly on the move, each place we stop being much more crowded than usual. The sidewalk café where Neko and I had coffee the day of the radio test now has a line out the door. While the crowds of girls in yukatas are mostly gone, the streets are still packed. Even the arcade, usually a haven for photophobic trolls seeking individual pursuits, seems to have an increased party atmosphere. We have to wait our turn for the air hockey table, one of the few places we can play with our bags safely tucked under our feet.
Since our previous game was abandoned, and tied at that, we are starting fresh. She’s sharper this time than the last, although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t had a chance to practice, and I find myself losing badly, seven goals to three. As the last goal slides past my errant attempt to poke it away, I groan and load the table with more coins. The second game goes my way, but it’s more of a nail-biter at seven goals to five.
“Rubber match,” she proclaims with a huge grin as she loads coins into the slot. I have to wonder if she was going easy on me last game, because this one is more lopsided than the first after she takes the first five goals. I go into a defensive posture, since three of those came off my own mistakes, and it seems to work for a while. I manage to hang around long enough that she deflects the puck into her own goal twice, but that’s all I get. She consoles me by buying me a slush drink at the concession stand before we head into the crowded streets toward Sendai Station and our date with the Tohoku Shinkansen.
***
We’re still forty kilometers from our transfer point when trouble first strikes. I can hear the voice long before I see the face. “I think I had best find another car, this one has fugu in it,” it intones with a sneer, and Iwanako grabs my arm intensely. Then he’s on us like a dark cloud, hovering over our seats momentarily before jumping back. “What is this?”
“You don’t even?” Iwanako snaps back at him. “Get out of our faces, you sad excuse for a sack of shit!” Wow.
Our assailant, who I now recognize as a former classmate, has gone white as a sheet. He turns to me. “W-we thought you were dead!”
I rack my brain for a witty reply, but have to resort to quoting the Literature Club’s favorite series. “I am dead. I just haven’t stopped moving yet.” I raise my hand toward him, finger extended, and he scrambles backward with great haste, tripping over someone’s feet with a satisfying crash. I rise to my feet to make sure he – and anyone he might have landed on – is unharmed, but he darts down the aisle, through the passage connecting the train car to the one ahead.
Iwanako is visibly shaken, and I put my arms around her as I retake my seat. “Hey, crisis averted. You shot him down pretty well, I think.” What was she going to do if I didn’t come back with her? Would she even have come back at all?
“One down, thirty five million to go,” she manages to choke out before breaking down completely.
Two transit policemen arrive shortly thereafter. They are polite and not too pointed with their questions, as there are witnesses willing to confirm I didn’t even stand up until after the other guy went down.
“You’re sure you’re fine?” one asks.
“He didn’t actually touch us,” I point out, though I might have grazed him inadvertently. “You might want to make sure they’re all fine, that’s where he landed.”
No other passengers wish to claim any harm has come to them, so the matter soon dies down. The transit police exit at the next station, presumably to file a report as quickly as possible, and I notice that four more board the train. I can only guess two others are busy with our assailant and need replacement.
A short while later, it is time for us to make our transfer. This leaves us with a slight gap, but not enough to justify leaving the area for a drink or a bite to eat – not that either of us feels much like eating, I’d suspect. Iwanako clutches her luggage like armor, and I keep a vigilant watch as we wait for the local – the last and slowest leg of our journey.
***
At our final destination, the crowd has thinned somewhat but it still behaves as if everyone among them were a mere daily commuter, not burdened by baggage for (or from) an extended trip, and we make our way somewhat precariously across the platform to meet my parents. No introductions are necessary of course. It stands to reason that my parents remember who Iwanako is and vice versa. That does little to lessen my double surprise when my father pulls me into an affectionate, back-slapping hug, and I can see that Iwanako is getting the identical treatment from my mother.
“So where’s that little spark plug of yours again?” he asks me as he releases.
I glance at my phone for the time. What does he want me to say? She’s probably baked out of her gourd, soaking in hot bubbling water. “She said she’d come down early next week if that’s alright with everyone. I mean, as much as I’m glad to see you, that’s not the only reason I’m here, and she felt like she might be in the way.”
The knowing looks exchanged between Iwanako and my mother confirm my suspicions. They knew about her plan before I did… and they approve.
Once at home, my parents make a big show out of offering us sake. It’s certainly unprecedented for them, and I understand the significance – it means they want to speak as adults, not as parent and child – but the sharing of alcohol has become so commonplace to me that it’s all I can do not to chuckle at the absurdity of it. Knowing the implications, I keep a lid on it, though I can’t help glancing in Iwanako’s direction to see if she’s amused by it as well. Her face betrays nothing, but she returns my glance. Once we are seated around the low table, cups in hand, we begin catching up.
“Did you have a pleasant trip down?” my father asks with a smile, then a waver, then a look of concern.
I’m guessing Iwanako’s poker face cracked, so I might as well talk. “At first, it was good. But we had some, ah, difficulty on the last stretch into Akibahara.”
“Would this difficulty be in any way related to that other reason you’re here?”
Well, that saves me some explaining, doesn’t it. “Yes, I’d say it most certainly was.” I feel a bit of adrenalin rising, as I can still see his face leering over us, and recall my guilty pleasure at his self-inflicted downfall, before realizing I’ve palmed the small earthenware cup and squeezed it hard. Had it been a wine glass, I probably would be in considerable, quite bloody pain right now. I slowly unwind my grasp and place it back on the table, staring at it as if to apologize for abusing it.
“Here,” my mother says as she refills the cup, “it seems you have earned this.”
While it’s nice to not have to explain, I suddenly feel as if I’m the champion for not just Iwanako’s honour, but also that of my parents, for they have taken her troubles to be their own. I start to wonder just how busy Neko really is back at the ranch. In less than a week, I may be the one in need of a white knight to ride in and save me – a role I know she would perform with full appreciation of the irony, the diminutive katawa princess charging into battle to save her hero.
Nekonomicon series continuation?
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Deacon Blues 1
KENTA
«This is the day of the expanding man.
That shape is my shade,
There where I used to stand»
I try to make sense of the other occupant of the hot tub, seated across from me. I know her name, age, and connection to Neko, and she just doesn’t seem like the type who would end up at the ranch, let alone in the hot tub, waiting for a cookie to kick in. The other two got impatient and headed outside for a smoke. Maybe the warm water speeds up the metabolism, and thus digestion. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, it’s a nice place to soak.
Miki and Neko return through the laundry room, and the scent of cannabis wafts in behind them. Dropping off their towels (and any unnecessary parts), they climb back into the water – Miki in a sleek blue one-piece on my side, Neko in a yellow bikini a couple sizes too small on the other. Despite the shared reason for venturing outside, they don’t seem to be speaking to each other very much at all. The smoke scent on them is quickly subdued by the smell of chlorine in the bubbling water.
“Are you feeling anything yet, Mariko?” Neko asks.
“No. Yes. I’m not sure. Could be the wine.”
It probably is. The warmth does seem to send alcohol straight to the head, but all I’ve felt from my cookie so far is the churning of my stomach. Then again, I chased it with milk, not wine. Alcohol might help with the transfer of cannabinoids into the bloodstream, while milk fat is more likely to have an inhibitory action.
Neko nods knowingly, though it is imperceptible to her target. “If it gets a bit much, just remember. «This too shall pass.»” The faint smile on Mariko’s face makes me think Neko just patted her for reassurance.
Miki’s phone begins to blare Gackt. Another World. She rises up out of the water. “I have to take this.” She juggles the tasks of answering and trying to wrap up with a towel, and heads into the kitchen.
“Business never stops, huh?” I remark.
Neko tips her head toward the cordless phone handset sitting on the deck. “This is the business line. That’s hers, so I’d presume it’s personal.”
«It seems like only yesterday
I gazed through the glass
At ramblers, wild gamblers.
That's all in the past»
Through the glass door, I can see Miki pacing in the kitchen while talking. Sometimes she turns around quickly, and other times she hesitates for a moment before reversing direction. When she returns to us, she has a gleam in her eye and a spring in her step. She sets down the phone and the towel, and lowers herself back into the water.
“I hate to do this to you,” she addresses to me, “but I won’t be able to make it to dinner tomorrow night.”
You are such a bitch. “What? You know my parents are coming into town specifically for this! I only needed you for one damn evening! What am I supposed to tell them?”
“Tell them whatever you want. Tell them I got sick, tell them we got in a fight, I don’t care. Shit, tell them the truth if you want.”
“And what exactly is the truth?”
“I have a date.” She laughs and knocks back the rest of her glass of wine.
I would probably be steaming right now, if the water wasn’t already doing it for me. “You really suck, you know that? Fuck you.”
“Is that supposed to offend me? You seemed pretty fond of it before.”
I am not going to be drawn into her little game. If she wants out of the fake date, so be it. I pop out of the water, dry off a little, and head into the master bedroom to gather up my things.
I’m still packing when I hear the door swing open behind me. I wheel around, ready to hurl invectives, only to find that it is not Miki standing in the doorway. It’s also not Neko.
“Kenta?” Her timid voice calls to me from the dark silhouette backlit by the glow of the kitchen fixtures.
I restrain my initial impulse to snap at her, and count backward in my head from five. “Yes, Mariko?” I say as calmly as I can manage.
“You don’t have to rush out.”
I can’t help but laugh, casting a rather unpleasant, dry note that seems to die in the thick carpet. “What the hell else am I supposed to do? I just un-guested myself.”
“That’s why I came inside, to tell you that you’re welcome to stay as Neko’s guest. You’ll have to share the guest room with me, but there are two beds, and I don’t mind.”
I briefly consider this, then resume packing. “It won’t help. I still have to call my parents and cancel tomorrow night’s plans. I see no point in sticking around now.”
“Have you told them much about her?”
I freeze again. “No. I figured it was better not to make things up that she might contradict.”
“Do they know anything about her?”
What exactly did I tell them? I told them we’re schoolmates, and that we’ve known each other a while, but not a whole lot more. I didn’t even tell them she was on the track team, although I don’t expect she would have denied that. “Not a whole lot. Truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about her. They were just thrilled beyond belief that I’d be bringing a girl to dinner.”
There is a heavy moment of silence, and I can see the shadows shift on the white carpet as she fidgets in the doorway.
“You still can.”
I stuff my clothes into the bag haphazardly. I may not be moving them very far. “How is that, exactly?”
I can hear the glass door slide open beyond the shadow in the doorway, accompanied by the voices of both Miki and Neko.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” I can hear Neko shouting.
“None, you «perra loca», you’re waving a fist at me! Go ahead, try it,” Miki taunts.
“You’re not worth it, but you’re right on that count. None. That’s how many fucks I give that you were left in charge! Do your goddamned job but stay the fuck out of our way.”
Miki shoulders her way past Mariko, and charges into the room. “Get out,” she snarls at me.
“Gladly.” I make sure to ‘accidentally’ bump shoulders with her on the way out, grabbing Mariko’s arm to get her out of the door’s path so I can slam it behind me. After taking my belongings upstairs, we regroup in the kitchen, now just a party of three.
“This isn’t exactly my specialty, it’s more my mother’s…” Neko plucks an olive from a jar with a long toothpick, dropping it into a glass which she then fills with Grey Goose straight out of the freezer. She finishes it off with a small pour of liquid from the jar itself, then a swirl from that long toothpick. “...but take this. It’ll help.” She pushes the glass across the table to me as quickly as she can without sloshing over the edge.
She’s wrong. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t do much of anything, actually. She mixes me another. That one must be defective as well. The third one seems to be the charm.
***
It could be the warm water. It could be the three martinis. It could be the cookie. It could be all of these things. Then again, it could be that this plan actually made sense. I’m in no state to decide, so I ask the matchmaker. “Does this sound like a good idea to you?”
Neko’s eyes roll up and to her left, and she purses her lips in thought. “Frankly, no. I can’t say that it does. Pretending to have a girlfriend just to placate your parents seems like a crazy scheme, but when you throw her into the mix, it becomes crazy-squared.”
“To be honest, I was rather enjoying it. I didn’t think it would be hard to pass her off as the real thing at all. I certainly thought it would hold together one more day. That’s all I needed.”
“I hear you. In any case, you’re better off without her. I should know. She’s a white dwarf.”
“A what?” I ask. Mariko looks equally perplexed.
“A white dwarf is the husk of a spent star. No longer capable of producing energy on its own, it must either cannibalize other stars or slowly grow cold and dark. It took a while for her to suck enough life out of me to go nova, a year in fact. You were an easier target. She fed faster, and flared sooner.”
This makes sense, in a stoned kind of way. “So what now?”
“You keep that date.”
“I thought you just said it was a crazy scheme!”
“It is, but you’re stuck with it now. You may as well make the best of it.”
«You call me a fool,
You say it's a crazy scheme.
This one's for real,
I already bought the dream»
«This is the day of the expanding man.
That shape is my shade,
There where I used to stand»
I try to make sense of the other occupant of the hot tub, seated across from me. I know her name, age, and connection to Neko, and she just doesn’t seem like the type who would end up at the ranch, let alone in the hot tub, waiting for a cookie to kick in. The other two got impatient and headed outside for a smoke. Maybe the warm water speeds up the metabolism, and thus digestion. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, it’s a nice place to soak.
Miki and Neko return through the laundry room, and the scent of cannabis wafts in behind them. Dropping off their towels (and any unnecessary parts), they climb back into the water – Miki in a sleek blue one-piece on my side, Neko in a yellow bikini a couple sizes too small on the other. Despite the shared reason for venturing outside, they don’t seem to be speaking to each other very much at all. The smoke scent on them is quickly subdued by the smell of chlorine in the bubbling water.
“Are you feeling anything yet, Mariko?” Neko asks.
“No. Yes. I’m not sure. Could be the wine.”
It probably is. The warmth does seem to send alcohol straight to the head, but all I’ve felt from my cookie so far is the churning of my stomach. Then again, I chased it with milk, not wine. Alcohol might help with the transfer of cannabinoids into the bloodstream, while milk fat is more likely to have an inhibitory action.
Neko nods knowingly, though it is imperceptible to her target. “If it gets a bit much, just remember. «This too shall pass.»” The faint smile on Mariko’s face makes me think Neko just patted her for reassurance.
Miki’s phone begins to blare Gackt. Another World. She rises up out of the water. “I have to take this.” She juggles the tasks of answering and trying to wrap up with a towel, and heads into the kitchen.
“Business never stops, huh?” I remark.
Neko tips her head toward the cordless phone handset sitting on the deck. “This is the business line. That’s hers, so I’d presume it’s personal.”
«It seems like only yesterday
I gazed through the glass
At ramblers, wild gamblers.
That's all in the past»
Through the glass door, I can see Miki pacing in the kitchen while talking. Sometimes she turns around quickly, and other times she hesitates for a moment before reversing direction. When she returns to us, she has a gleam in her eye and a spring in her step. She sets down the phone and the towel, and lowers herself back into the water.
“I hate to do this to you,” she addresses to me, “but I won’t be able to make it to dinner tomorrow night.”
You are such a bitch. “What? You know my parents are coming into town specifically for this! I only needed you for one damn evening! What am I supposed to tell them?”
“Tell them whatever you want. Tell them I got sick, tell them we got in a fight, I don’t care. Shit, tell them the truth if you want.”
“And what exactly is the truth?”
“I have a date.” She laughs and knocks back the rest of her glass of wine.
I would probably be steaming right now, if the water wasn’t already doing it for me. “You really suck, you know that? Fuck you.”
“Is that supposed to offend me? You seemed pretty fond of it before.”
I am not going to be drawn into her little game. If she wants out of the fake date, so be it. I pop out of the water, dry off a little, and head into the master bedroom to gather up my things.
I’m still packing when I hear the door swing open behind me. I wheel around, ready to hurl invectives, only to find that it is not Miki standing in the doorway. It’s also not Neko.
“Kenta?” Her timid voice calls to me from the dark silhouette backlit by the glow of the kitchen fixtures.
I restrain my initial impulse to snap at her, and count backward in my head from five. “Yes, Mariko?” I say as calmly as I can manage.
“You don’t have to rush out.”
I can’t help but laugh, casting a rather unpleasant, dry note that seems to die in the thick carpet. “What the hell else am I supposed to do? I just un-guested myself.”
“That’s why I came inside, to tell you that you’re welcome to stay as Neko’s guest. You’ll have to share the guest room with me, but there are two beds, and I don’t mind.”
I briefly consider this, then resume packing. “It won’t help. I still have to call my parents and cancel tomorrow night’s plans. I see no point in sticking around now.”
“Have you told them much about her?”
I freeze again. “No. I figured it was better not to make things up that she might contradict.”
“Do they know anything about her?”
What exactly did I tell them? I told them we’re schoolmates, and that we’ve known each other a while, but not a whole lot more. I didn’t even tell them she was on the track team, although I don’t expect she would have denied that. “Not a whole lot. Truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about her. They were just thrilled beyond belief that I’d be bringing a girl to dinner.”
There is a heavy moment of silence, and I can see the shadows shift on the white carpet as she fidgets in the doorway.
“You still can.”
I stuff my clothes into the bag haphazardly. I may not be moving them very far. “How is that, exactly?”
I can hear the glass door slide open beyond the shadow in the doorway, accompanied by the voices of both Miki and Neko.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” I can hear Neko shouting.
“None, you «perra loca», you’re waving a fist at me! Go ahead, try it,” Miki taunts.
“You’re not worth it, but you’re right on that count. None. That’s how many fucks I give that you were left in charge! Do your goddamned job but stay the fuck out of our way.”
Miki shoulders her way past Mariko, and charges into the room. “Get out,” she snarls at me.
“Gladly.” I make sure to ‘accidentally’ bump shoulders with her on the way out, grabbing Mariko’s arm to get her out of the door’s path so I can slam it behind me. After taking my belongings upstairs, we regroup in the kitchen, now just a party of three.
“This isn’t exactly my specialty, it’s more my mother’s…” Neko plucks an olive from a jar with a long toothpick, dropping it into a glass which she then fills with Grey Goose straight out of the freezer. She finishes it off with a small pour of liquid from the jar itself, then a swirl from that long toothpick. “...but take this. It’ll help.” She pushes the glass across the table to me as quickly as she can without sloshing over the edge.
She’s wrong. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t do much of anything, actually. She mixes me another. That one must be defective as well. The third one seems to be the charm.
***
It could be the warm water. It could be the three martinis. It could be the cookie. It could be all of these things. Then again, it could be that this plan actually made sense. I’m in no state to decide, so I ask the matchmaker. “Does this sound like a good idea to you?”
Neko’s eyes roll up and to her left, and she purses her lips in thought. “Frankly, no. I can’t say that it does. Pretending to have a girlfriend just to placate your parents seems like a crazy scheme, but when you throw her into the mix, it becomes crazy-squared.”
“To be honest, I was rather enjoying it. I didn’t think it would be hard to pass her off as the real thing at all. I certainly thought it would hold together one more day. That’s all I needed.”
“I hear you. In any case, you’re better off without her. I should know. She’s a white dwarf.”
“A what?” I ask. Mariko looks equally perplexed.
“A white dwarf is the husk of a spent star. No longer capable of producing energy on its own, it must either cannibalize other stars or slowly grow cold and dark. It took a while for her to suck enough life out of me to go nova, a year in fact. You were an easier target. She fed faster, and flared sooner.”
This makes sense, in a stoned kind of way. “So what now?”
“You keep that date.”
“I thought you just said it was a crazy scheme!”
“It is, but you’re stuck with it now. You may as well make the best of it.”
«You call me a fool,
You say it's a crazy scheme.
This one's for real,
I already bought the dream»
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Deacon Blues 2
AKIRA
“You are just batting a thousand so far this trip.” I turn to face Lilly. Even though she can’t see me, she’ll be able to hear that I’m pointed straight at her. “You have a lot of nerve to call me out for having a few drinks! «He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.»” This shuts her up fast, and I suppress my growing smirk as she picks her chin up off the floor. “I need some fresh air.”
«I'll learn to work the saxophone,
And I’ll play just what I feel,
Drink Scotch whisky all night long
And die behind the wheel»
I move slowly enough that Hanako doesn’t have to hurry to grab a coat and a hat, but she does anyhow. I grab a folding umbrella on the way out the door.
I steer us toward the city. I don’t have any specific destination in mind yet, but whatever it might become, it’s likely to be this way. Hanako clutches onto my arm, and I slow down a little bit.
At first we just walk, but she finally breaks the silence. “Why are you two f-fighting so much?”
“I wish I could tell you. Maybe she just needs a good shag.” Penny for your thoughts, doll. But she remains silent. “Are you concerned it’s because of us? I’m pretty sure it isn’t.”
Her mouth says ‘no’, but the way she stares at her feet when she says it screams ‘yes’. The only thing to do is to let Lilly cool off. This is far from a new phenomenon for us. I fire off a text to Tadao’s phone, indicating that they should make whatever they want for dinner, and to worry only about themselves. It’s rather nice to know it will be read.
We just walk. I don’t really know what’s on this edge of town. Hakodate has grown a block, maybe two, since I walked it last. At this rate, our little house will be surrounded by suburbs within twenty years or so.
Hanako spots it before I do – a billiard parlor. Excited, she tugs my arm in that direction, and I follow her lead. If she thinks that’s where I was leading us all along, then why disabuse her of that notion?
It only gets better. There are two snooker tables in a separate room in the back! I’ve been wanting to see this for quite a while now. Hanako tries to leave her ‘licence’ at the counter to rent the table, but I stop her. I wait until we get to the back to explain why.
“Darling, the less time someone has to inspect that, the better. Mine would also be cheaper to replace if something happened to it.” Because it’s real.
We’re still setting up the table when a slender lady in her mid-thirties, dressed in all black, comes into the room and asks if we would like to order drinks. I order us each a pint of Sapporo. How can I not?
By the time they arrive, I’m already in desperate trouble on the table. Hanako isn’t just good, she’s dominating – and she says that Suzu in top form can run circles around her! I keep the count and spot the colors and otherwise try to stay out of her way. One. Eight. Nine. Sixteen. Seventeen. The black is now trapped, and the pink has yet to be freed up, so she continues her run on the baulk colors, looking to set up an angle on blue.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two. She finds blue, and has an angle to cannon into the remaining pack of reds. Twenty-seven. Unfortunately, she finds herself trapped among the reds she was seeking to open up. She taps one gently and shrugs.
I have a couple options for reds, but it doesn’t really matter what I do. I cannot keep up with accuracy and cue control like that. Just the same, I’m not willing to concede. By all rights, the frame isn’t even one-third over. I take advantage of an easy plant to pot a red, but miss a steep-angled shot on black. One. At least it won’t be a total whitewash. After she runs off breaks of thirty-six and thirty-three, I wave a white towel. I’d need three snookers and all blacks to catch up.
Lady In Black comes around just in time to see me drain my glass, and I order us something more substantial. I set up the table for the next frame, to give her a little time to sip at her beer before the whisky arrives. She plays her break-off shot to just clip the corner of the pack, putting perhaps a centimeter of space between each of the four reds on that corner. The cue ball ends up near the bottom rail. Hanako is crouched over the table as if it were still her turn, and I can’t resist giving her a little bit of a goose as I go by, making her jump.
I know a few dirty tricks of my own, and I fire a shot at the top cushion with extreme high left hand english that swerves after it passes the pack, coming off the rail to strike the pack from behind. I’ve just loosened things up without leaving her a shot.
“N-nice shot.” This draws a smile out of me, being acknowledged by an obviously superior player.
A few visits later, she’s managed to regain the positional advantage, leaving me snookered behind yellow. Touching up won’t be a problem, there’s still a whole pack of reds to aim at. The problem is that I have no idea where they, or the cue ball, will go. In the end, it could have been worse, but I still have to open things up for her further. She prowls around the table, looking for the best of several possible pots.
Hot damn, you’re sexy when you’re focused… and also a little bit scary. After drifting off into my own private world for a moment, I return to this one to find her staring at me from her position over the far side of the table. She breaks eye contact as soon as she realizes I’m ‘back’, but I can see that she’s smiling. She goes on to rattle the pocket on what should have been a relatively easy pot – for her, at least.
“I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to throw you off your game,” I say as I step up to survey my options before running off my own highest break to this point, a whopping twenty-two. After failing to get position on anything with my last shot, I tap out a safety and lean against the wall to await my next chance, drink in hand.
Hanako circles the table twice, glancing my way each time around, before playing a shot that neither accomplishes much nor leaves me much, but isn’t exactly a safety either. Then, before I can step away from the wall, she pins me against it and kisses me, in full sight of Lady In Black who had come in to ask if we wanted another round.
«My back to the wall,
A victim of laughing chance,
This is for me
The essence of true romance,
Sharing the things we know and love
With those of my kind,
Libations,
Sensations
That stagger the mind»
I blow the next shot, utterly and completely. I can’t even keep my bridge hand still. Sighing, I take a seat next to our cocktail table.
“I’m s-sorry babe, I didn’t m-mean to throw you off your game,” she says to me with an evil grin as she takes up position and runs off a half-century break, once again leaving me needing snookers to catch up, once again waving the white towel.
Hanako schools me in the next frame as well, but I hardly care. It’s just such a joy to watch her work. It’s a private little world of green baize where she’s completely in control and completely at home. By the time she puts the finishing touches on her frame-clinching break, I can feel that it’s time to get some solid, as opposed to liquid, nutrition. We check out, I pay the bar tab, and we head out into the night.
«I crawl like a viper
Through these suburban streets,
Make love to these women
Languid and bittersweet.
I'll rise when the sun goes down,
Cover every game in town.
A world of my own,
I'll make it my home sweet home»
It’s subtle but unmistakable – Hanako is now leading me around Hakodate, rather than the other way around, and I don’t mind it even a lick.
«They got a name for the winners in the world,
And I want a name when I lose.
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide,
Call me Deacon Blues»
It’s approaching midnight by the time we make it home, and there is a tie hanging from the bedroom doorknob.
“You are just batting a thousand so far this trip.” I turn to face Lilly. Even though she can’t see me, she’ll be able to hear that I’m pointed straight at her. “You have a lot of nerve to call me out for having a few drinks! «He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.»” This shuts her up fast, and I suppress my growing smirk as she picks her chin up off the floor. “I need some fresh air.”
«I'll learn to work the saxophone,
And I’ll play just what I feel,
Drink Scotch whisky all night long
And die behind the wheel»
I move slowly enough that Hanako doesn’t have to hurry to grab a coat and a hat, but she does anyhow. I grab a folding umbrella on the way out the door.
I steer us toward the city. I don’t have any specific destination in mind yet, but whatever it might become, it’s likely to be this way. Hanako clutches onto my arm, and I slow down a little bit.
At first we just walk, but she finally breaks the silence. “Why are you two f-fighting so much?”
“I wish I could tell you. Maybe she just needs a good shag.” Penny for your thoughts, doll. But she remains silent. “Are you concerned it’s because of us? I’m pretty sure it isn’t.”
Her mouth says ‘no’, but the way she stares at her feet when she says it screams ‘yes’. The only thing to do is to let Lilly cool off. This is far from a new phenomenon for us. I fire off a text to Tadao’s phone, indicating that they should make whatever they want for dinner, and to worry only about themselves. It’s rather nice to know it will be read.
We just walk. I don’t really know what’s on this edge of town. Hakodate has grown a block, maybe two, since I walked it last. At this rate, our little house will be surrounded by suburbs within twenty years or so.
Hanako spots it before I do – a billiard parlor. Excited, she tugs my arm in that direction, and I follow her lead. If she thinks that’s where I was leading us all along, then why disabuse her of that notion?
It only gets better. There are two snooker tables in a separate room in the back! I’ve been wanting to see this for quite a while now. Hanako tries to leave her ‘licence’ at the counter to rent the table, but I stop her. I wait until we get to the back to explain why.
“Darling, the less time someone has to inspect that, the better. Mine would also be cheaper to replace if something happened to it.” Because it’s real.
We’re still setting up the table when a slender lady in her mid-thirties, dressed in all black, comes into the room and asks if we would like to order drinks. I order us each a pint of Sapporo. How can I not?
By the time they arrive, I’m already in desperate trouble on the table. Hanako isn’t just good, she’s dominating – and she says that Suzu in top form can run circles around her! I keep the count and spot the colors and otherwise try to stay out of her way. One. Eight. Nine. Sixteen. Seventeen. The black is now trapped, and the pink has yet to be freed up, so she continues her run on the baulk colors, looking to set up an angle on blue.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two. She finds blue, and has an angle to cannon into the remaining pack of reds. Twenty-seven. Unfortunately, she finds herself trapped among the reds she was seeking to open up. She taps one gently and shrugs.
I have a couple options for reds, but it doesn’t really matter what I do. I cannot keep up with accuracy and cue control like that. Just the same, I’m not willing to concede. By all rights, the frame isn’t even one-third over. I take advantage of an easy plant to pot a red, but miss a steep-angled shot on black. One. At least it won’t be a total whitewash. After she runs off breaks of thirty-six and thirty-three, I wave a white towel. I’d need three snookers and all blacks to catch up.
Lady In Black comes around just in time to see me drain my glass, and I order us something more substantial. I set up the table for the next frame, to give her a little time to sip at her beer before the whisky arrives. She plays her break-off shot to just clip the corner of the pack, putting perhaps a centimeter of space between each of the four reds on that corner. The cue ball ends up near the bottom rail. Hanako is crouched over the table as if it were still her turn, and I can’t resist giving her a little bit of a goose as I go by, making her jump.
I know a few dirty tricks of my own, and I fire a shot at the top cushion with extreme high left hand english that swerves after it passes the pack, coming off the rail to strike the pack from behind. I’ve just loosened things up without leaving her a shot.
“N-nice shot.” This draws a smile out of me, being acknowledged by an obviously superior player.
A few visits later, she’s managed to regain the positional advantage, leaving me snookered behind yellow. Touching up won’t be a problem, there’s still a whole pack of reds to aim at. The problem is that I have no idea where they, or the cue ball, will go. In the end, it could have been worse, but I still have to open things up for her further. She prowls around the table, looking for the best of several possible pots.
Hot damn, you’re sexy when you’re focused… and also a little bit scary. After drifting off into my own private world for a moment, I return to this one to find her staring at me from her position over the far side of the table. She breaks eye contact as soon as she realizes I’m ‘back’, but I can see that she’s smiling. She goes on to rattle the pocket on what should have been a relatively easy pot – for her, at least.
“I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to throw you off your game,” I say as I step up to survey my options before running off my own highest break to this point, a whopping twenty-two. After failing to get position on anything with my last shot, I tap out a safety and lean against the wall to await my next chance, drink in hand.
Hanako circles the table twice, glancing my way each time around, before playing a shot that neither accomplishes much nor leaves me much, but isn’t exactly a safety either. Then, before I can step away from the wall, she pins me against it and kisses me, in full sight of Lady In Black who had come in to ask if we wanted another round.
«My back to the wall,
A victim of laughing chance,
This is for me
The essence of true romance,
Sharing the things we know and love
With those of my kind,
Libations,
Sensations
That stagger the mind»
I blow the next shot, utterly and completely. I can’t even keep my bridge hand still. Sighing, I take a seat next to our cocktail table.
“I’m s-sorry babe, I didn’t m-mean to throw you off your game,” she says to me with an evil grin as she takes up position and runs off a half-century break, once again leaving me needing snookers to catch up, once again waving the white towel.
Hanako schools me in the next frame as well, but I hardly care. It’s just such a joy to watch her work. It’s a private little world of green baize where she’s completely in control and completely at home. By the time she puts the finishing touches on her frame-clinching break, I can feel that it’s time to get some solid, as opposed to liquid, nutrition. We check out, I pay the bar tab, and we head out into the night.
«I crawl like a viper
Through these suburban streets,
Make love to these women
Languid and bittersweet.
I'll rise when the sun goes down,
Cover every game in town.
A world of my own,
I'll make it my home sweet home»
It’s subtle but unmistakable – Hanako is now leading me around Hakodate, rather than the other way around, and I don’t mind it even a lick.
«They got a name for the winners in the world,
And I want a name when I lose.
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide,
Call me Deacon Blues»
It’s approaching midnight by the time we make it home, and there is a tie hanging from the bedroom doorknob.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Deacon Blues 2
DAISUKE
“I told you all along that this was the plan. I’m not hiding anything from you. Without a doubt, work is going to be completely insane today and tomorrow, and I may be hard-pressed to find enough time to sleep in my own place, five minutes from the office, let alone if I have to drive across town both ways.” It’s obvious that Emi doesn’t like hearing this, but what am I supposed to do about it? I don’t like the reality of it either.
“Fine,” she says as she pouts. “You’ll at least call me?”
“Of course I’ll call you, though I may not be able to talk for very long. Now, throw a kiss and say goodbye. I have to go.” She continues to pout, so I kiss her for real. “I’ll be back tomorrow night. I promise.”
The drive in is uneventful, even subdued, as if the whole city is feeling the weight of the clouds pressing in like an enormous lampshade. I park underneath the building and make my way up the elevator. I’ve just stepped out – no doors to pass, we occupy the entire floor – when one of the junior partners passes me with briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other, and toast hanging from his mouth. I momentarily consider trying to engage him in conversation for the amusement value, but that would only encourage him to drop in and bother me later. Besides, he smells like smoke, and that seldom bodes well for me.
«This is the night of the expanding man.
I take one last drag
As I approach the stand.»
I have messages in my voice mail box. What a surprise. I might as well get on it. Maybe I can carve out an actual lunch hour to walk home and catch a nap.
The first message is from Tokina, wanting to know how the negotiations on their case are proceeding. Mitsubishi managed to get their cargo held up at Customs, insisting that it is counterfeit. It isn’t, it’s just compatible. It doesn’t claim to be genuine Nikon equipment. Still, they have enough pull to hold things up for a month or two, pending a ruling of the obvious from a judge.
The second message is from an angry liquor vendor, not actually requiring legal assistance but spouting profanities over non-performance by his upstream distributor. I make a note to field that one as soon as I get through checking the rest, as it should be a simple matter to hook him up with someone that actually comes through. I might even make a little money off the arrangement.
There’s a multi-cast message from the CEO, sent yesterday, telling us they won’t be paying any overtime for the first three days of the week without prior approval, so if we’re still there, go home.
The last message is from Sally, and it’s simple. ‘Do we have any trade embargoes or special conditions with Uruguay? Let me know soonest.’ I think I will do exactly that. After double-checking the diplomatic status of Uruguay, I pick up the phone again.
I am hardly expecting an answer, considering she’s on the opposite side of the planet, but the probability only gets worse from here so now is as good a time as any. I get lucky.
“You have some news for me?” she drawls slowly, without stopping to say hello.
“Did I wake you up? You did say ‘soonest’.”
The light-speed latency is quite discernible. “Nah, I’m just baked as a potato. Any problems with shipping from here?” I presume she’s in Uruguay, hence the question.
“Not really. Only thing that might argue against it is the volume. There’s not a whole lot flowing in either direction, which means it may not be cost-effective. I’ll let you worry about that, it’s your job.”
“Oh man,” she grunts at me in a ‘trying not to exhale’ manner. “You should see this place. They’re planning to legalize, and some well-connected people are already growing. They know what they’re doing, too.”
“Sounds like fun. Before I lose you completely to Purple Haze, is there any bad blood between you and the Soon brothers?”
“Chun’s an arrogant bastard, but hostility? Nah. Why?”
“Because you might want to give them a call. They got cleaned out over Tanabata, couldn’t get restocked, and they are not happy.”
“Mmm. I won’t forget who told me.”
We say brief goodbyes appropriate to the medium, and I smile. She’s always been pretty good at telling me her true motivations without actually saying so, and this was clearly one of those times. I’d be in a bit of a bind if I knew she was planning to smuggle Uruguayan marijuana. Good thing she didn’t tell me.
My next call is to Chun Soon. I’m on a roll, and I might as well stay there. I have nothing good to tell the folks at Tokina, but I have to return that call as well.
After returning phoned-in requests, I turn to my email. There’s one about not paying OT for Tanabata. If anyone worked it anyhow, they can’t say they weren’t warned. My bosses may be cheap bastards, but at least they’re pretty up front about being cheap bastards.
I field the rest, responding by email or forwarding them to the correct level, and find myself facing a half hour until lunch. The last thing I want is to get caught up in an hour-plus task, so I spend fifteen minutes or so catching up on the Pistorius situation. Then I lock my computer and start the short walk home to catch a nap.
«I cried when I wrote this song,
Sue me if I play too long.
This brother is free,
I'll be what I want to be.»
“I told you all along that this was the plan. I’m not hiding anything from you. Without a doubt, work is going to be completely insane today and tomorrow, and I may be hard-pressed to find enough time to sleep in my own place, five minutes from the office, let alone if I have to drive across town both ways.” It’s obvious that Emi doesn’t like hearing this, but what am I supposed to do about it? I don’t like the reality of it either.
“Fine,” she says as she pouts. “You’ll at least call me?”
“Of course I’ll call you, though I may not be able to talk for very long. Now, throw a kiss and say goodbye. I have to go.” She continues to pout, so I kiss her for real. “I’ll be back tomorrow night. I promise.”
The drive in is uneventful, even subdued, as if the whole city is feeling the weight of the clouds pressing in like an enormous lampshade. I park underneath the building and make my way up the elevator. I’ve just stepped out – no doors to pass, we occupy the entire floor – when one of the junior partners passes me with briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other, and toast hanging from his mouth. I momentarily consider trying to engage him in conversation for the amusement value, but that would only encourage him to drop in and bother me later. Besides, he smells like smoke, and that seldom bodes well for me.
«This is the night of the expanding man.
I take one last drag
As I approach the stand.»
I have messages in my voice mail box. What a surprise. I might as well get on it. Maybe I can carve out an actual lunch hour to walk home and catch a nap.
The first message is from Tokina, wanting to know how the negotiations on their case are proceeding. Mitsubishi managed to get their cargo held up at Customs, insisting that it is counterfeit. It isn’t, it’s just compatible. It doesn’t claim to be genuine Nikon equipment. Still, they have enough pull to hold things up for a month or two, pending a ruling of the obvious from a judge.
The second message is from an angry liquor vendor, not actually requiring legal assistance but spouting profanities over non-performance by his upstream distributor. I make a note to field that one as soon as I get through checking the rest, as it should be a simple matter to hook him up with someone that actually comes through. I might even make a little money off the arrangement.
There’s a multi-cast message from the CEO, sent yesterday, telling us they won’t be paying any overtime for the first three days of the week without prior approval, so if we’re still there, go home.
The last message is from Sally, and it’s simple. ‘Do we have any trade embargoes or special conditions with Uruguay? Let me know soonest.’ I think I will do exactly that. After double-checking the diplomatic status of Uruguay, I pick up the phone again.
I am hardly expecting an answer, considering she’s on the opposite side of the planet, but the probability only gets worse from here so now is as good a time as any. I get lucky.
“You have some news for me?” she drawls slowly, without stopping to say hello.
“Did I wake you up? You did say ‘soonest’.”
The light-speed latency is quite discernible. “Nah, I’m just baked as a potato. Any problems with shipping from here?” I presume she’s in Uruguay, hence the question.
“Not really. Only thing that might argue against it is the volume. There’s not a whole lot flowing in either direction, which means it may not be cost-effective. I’ll let you worry about that, it’s your job.”
“Oh man,” she grunts at me in a ‘trying not to exhale’ manner. “You should see this place. They’re planning to legalize, and some well-connected people are already growing. They know what they’re doing, too.”
“Sounds like fun. Before I lose you completely to Purple Haze, is there any bad blood between you and the Soon brothers?”
“Chun’s an arrogant bastard, but hostility? Nah. Why?”
“Because you might want to give them a call. They got cleaned out over Tanabata, couldn’t get restocked, and they are not happy.”
“Mmm. I won’t forget who told me.”
We say brief goodbyes appropriate to the medium, and I smile. She’s always been pretty good at telling me her true motivations without actually saying so, and this was clearly one of those times. I’d be in a bit of a bind if I knew she was planning to smuggle Uruguayan marijuana. Good thing she didn’t tell me.
My next call is to Chun Soon. I’m on a roll, and I might as well stay there. I have nothing good to tell the folks at Tokina, but I have to return that call as well.
After returning phoned-in requests, I turn to my email. There’s one about not paying OT for Tanabata. If anyone worked it anyhow, they can’t say they weren’t warned. My bosses may be cheap bastards, but at least they’re pretty up front about being cheap bastards.
I field the rest, responding by email or forwarding them to the correct level, and find myself facing a half hour until lunch. The last thing I want is to get caught up in an hour-plus task, so I spend fifteen minutes or so catching up on the Pistorius situation. Then I lock my computer and start the short walk home to catch a nap.
«I cried when I wrote this song,
Sue me if I play too long.
This brother is free,
I'll be what I want to be.»
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) No One Knows
MIKI
I roll my big black beast into the parking lot of the Seven-Eleven and settle in, but see no sign of her. Maybe she went inside? It doesn’t matter, she told me to wait for her, that she’d find me. I fidget with my media player, looking for something appropriate.
«We get some rules to follow
That and this, these and those
No one knows»
Dave Grohl bashing skins always seems to help settle me down. I don’t care if he fronts Foo Fighters, he was born to hit things with sticks. I turn it up, and almost miss the tapping at the right side window. Oh yeah, I didn’t tell her it’s left-hand drive. I turn down the music and thumb the unlock button on the remote. Mira opens the door, taking her seat but not belting in. I note a relative lack of makeup.
“«Go.»” That’s all she has to say.
«We get these pills to swallow
How they stick in your throat
Taste like gold»
“«Go where?»” I start the engine pending an answer.
“«Anywhere but here.»” She waves an arm to let me know she means more than just this parking lot.
Well, that makes my scouting pointless, doesn’t it. “«Alright, I have an idea. Put on your seat belt though, I don’t feel like getting pulled over.»” She clicks in as I back out of the parking spot, and I start back toward the highway. Once we’re clearly headed out of the heart of the city, Mira seems to relax into her seat, and gives me a smile.
«Oh what you do to me
No one knows»
Traffic is atypically light, as if the city still has a Tanabata hangover, so it doesn’t take very long to get back to the Shanghai. I might as well give this a try, maybe I can impress her a little bit. I did approve the plan to overhaul the place, after all, and I was right about getting that outside support. When the Hakamichis refused to participate, one of the Satous bought out their share instead.
The place is almost half full, which is more than I have ever seen before. We don’t get the whispers of ‘founders’ that Neko told me about, but I guess that’s the cost of not showing my face around here a bit more. It doesn’t matter, I’m paying from my expense account. I’ll call it a random audit.
Much to my amusement, Seiji is our waiter tonight. “You wouldn’t happen to have a menu in English, would you?” I nod in Mira’s direction. “She can’t read our scribbles.” And nobody can read my kanji. Not even me. I’m more than a bit surprised when he produces one immediately. It must not be that unusual of a request.
Mira peruses her menu, glancing over at mine to see what I might be considering. The small ‘Daily Specials’ menu inside has no English equivalent, so I’ll have to tell her what they are.
“«It looks like tonight’s specialty is Italian food.»” Much of the menu needs no translation, as the pictures are quite adequate.
“«Is veal?»” Mira is pointing to one dish in particular, so I take back the menu to read the description.
“«Yes, veal parmigiana. Is that what you want?»”
“«Yes, yes! When I was in Italia, food was great. Was my favorite part of trip.»”
The lasagna looks good to me, so when Seiji comes back, I order antipasto for the both of us, to be followed by our meals. You guys had better get this right. The authenticity police are here.
***
When we leave a good hour and a half later, the blue Nissan behind us seems familiar. Weren’t they behind me southbound too?
“«Hang onto something,»” I tell Mira. “«We’re about to get a little bit sideways.»” I accelerate up Route 31, past the dirt entrance to the ranch, then whip the wheel around violently, punching the throttle wide open the moment the wheels start to slip. While making this screaming J-turn, Mira comes flying across the console into me. I shoulder her out of the way and dart away as fast as the five-liter engine in this land yacht can manage. The Nissan passes by, slowing somewhat. The driver’s eyes are wide with surprise, but there is no doubt what I see there. Rosuke. They’re around the bend, just as I had intended, before I make the turn into the driveway and cut the lights. I set the parking brake so as not to turn on the brake lights, and just as I expected, the blue Nissan soon crosses behind us, giving chase to a car that isn’t there.
“Ben!” I start looking for him once we’re through the door. “Are you around? We have a situation.” I turn to Mira. “«Wait here a moment.»” He’s not upstairs. He doesn’t appear to be in the stable, or at least the lights aren’t on out there. His car isn’t parked around back. Fuck. I give him a call.
“Miura?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes. We have a problem. Where are you?”
“I’m just a couple blocks from the restaurant. Why?”
This might actually not be a bad thing. “We were just followed from downtown Sendai by hostile forces. They waited for us all the way through dinner, then followed us back north. I shook them off and came straight here to find you.”
“Do you have any idea who they are or what they want?”
“Yes, and sort of. Russians, presumably mafia, and they’re tailing my date.”
“«¡Qué chingados!» Alright, the shotgun is in the safe in my bedroom. It’s the usual code for this month, only backward. Nobody in or out until I get there.”
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. Watch yourself, I’m betting that when we shook them, they headed back to the Shanghai. Blue Nissan, Russian driver, one passenger.”
“Will do. Start securing the place. Use the panic room if you have to.” He hangs up.
It takes me three tries to open the safe, because I keep pressing buttons twice. Calm down Miura. This is not helping. I grab the weapon and a clip-on pouch full of shells, and head down the stairs. Mira is cowering in the corner where the two couches meet, curled up in a ball.
“«That is not a good place to hide. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere that is.»” I tuck the shotgun under my arm, extend my hand, and help her to her feet. From the hidden panel to the wine cellar, I open the door, then punch in the lockdown code: 666. I suppose this was someone’s idea of dark humor, but at least it’s easy to remember. Now it will operate twice as fast and without the deliberate warning noises it usually makes, and will only open or close from the outside if the master code is provided.
I locate a couple of folding chairs at the bottom of the staircase, and let them fall to the floor while I turn on the security monitor. Mira catches on and sets up the chairs while I work. Once I have set up the four-way split-screen to handle all entrances and exits, and turned up the sound to the outdoor microphones, I feel the pressure in my head suddenly drain. I hadn’t even realized it was there, but now I want to throw up.
When I turn around, Mira is kneeling before me in a gesture of total supplication. I haven’t seen someone do that since my days in Sunday School.
«I realize you’re mine
Indeed a fool am I»
I roll my big black beast into the parking lot of the Seven-Eleven and settle in, but see no sign of her. Maybe she went inside? It doesn’t matter, she told me to wait for her, that she’d find me. I fidget with my media player, looking for something appropriate.
«We get some rules to follow
That and this, these and those
No one knows»
Dave Grohl bashing skins always seems to help settle me down. I don’t care if he fronts Foo Fighters, he was born to hit things with sticks. I turn it up, and almost miss the tapping at the right side window. Oh yeah, I didn’t tell her it’s left-hand drive. I turn down the music and thumb the unlock button on the remote. Mira opens the door, taking her seat but not belting in. I note a relative lack of makeup.
“«Go.»” That’s all she has to say.
«We get these pills to swallow
How they stick in your throat
Taste like gold»
“«Go where?»” I start the engine pending an answer.
“«Anywhere but here.»” She waves an arm to let me know she means more than just this parking lot.
Well, that makes my scouting pointless, doesn’t it. “«Alright, I have an idea. Put on your seat belt though, I don’t feel like getting pulled over.»” She clicks in as I back out of the parking spot, and I start back toward the highway. Once we’re clearly headed out of the heart of the city, Mira seems to relax into her seat, and gives me a smile.
«Oh what you do to me
No one knows»
Traffic is atypically light, as if the city still has a Tanabata hangover, so it doesn’t take very long to get back to the Shanghai. I might as well give this a try, maybe I can impress her a little bit. I did approve the plan to overhaul the place, after all, and I was right about getting that outside support. When the Hakamichis refused to participate, one of the Satous bought out their share instead.
The place is almost half full, which is more than I have ever seen before. We don’t get the whispers of ‘founders’ that Neko told me about, but I guess that’s the cost of not showing my face around here a bit more. It doesn’t matter, I’m paying from my expense account. I’ll call it a random audit.
Much to my amusement, Seiji is our waiter tonight. “You wouldn’t happen to have a menu in English, would you?” I nod in Mira’s direction. “She can’t read our scribbles.” And nobody can read my kanji. Not even me. I’m more than a bit surprised when he produces one immediately. It must not be that unusual of a request.
Mira peruses her menu, glancing over at mine to see what I might be considering. The small ‘Daily Specials’ menu inside has no English equivalent, so I’ll have to tell her what they are.
“«It looks like tonight’s specialty is Italian food.»” Much of the menu needs no translation, as the pictures are quite adequate.
“«Is veal?»” Mira is pointing to one dish in particular, so I take back the menu to read the description.
“«Yes, veal parmigiana. Is that what you want?»”
“«Yes, yes! When I was in Italia, food was great. Was my favorite part of trip.»”
The lasagna looks good to me, so when Seiji comes back, I order antipasto for the both of us, to be followed by our meals. You guys had better get this right. The authenticity police are here.
***
When we leave a good hour and a half later, the blue Nissan behind us seems familiar. Weren’t they behind me southbound too?
“«Hang onto something,»” I tell Mira. “«We’re about to get a little bit sideways.»” I accelerate up Route 31, past the dirt entrance to the ranch, then whip the wheel around violently, punching the throttle wide open the moment the wheels start to slip. While making this screaming J-turn, Mira comes flying across the console into me. I shoulder her out of the way and dart away as fast as the five-liter engine in this land yacht can manage. The Nissan passes by, slowing somewhat. The driver’s eyes are wide with surprise, but there is no doubt what I see there. Rosuke. They’re around the bend, just as I had intended, before I make the turn into the driveway and cut the lights. I set the parking brake so as not to turn on the brake lights, and just as I expected, the blue Nissan soon crosses behind us, giving chase to a car that isn’t there.
“Ben!” I start looking for him once we’re through the door. “Are you around? We have a situation.” I turn to Mira. “«Wait here a moment.»” He’s not upstairs. He doesn’t appear to be in the stable, or at least the lights aren’t on out there. His car isn’t parked around back. Fuck. I give him a call.
“Miura?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes. We have a problem. Where are you?”
“I’m just a couple blocks from the restaurant. Why?”
This might actually not be a bad thing. “We were just followed from downtown Sendai by hostile forces. They waited for us all the way through dinner, then followed us back north. I shook them off and came straight here to find you.”
“Do you have any idea who they are or what they want?”
“Yes, and sort of. Russians, presumably mafia, and they’re tailing my date.”
“«¡Qué chingados!» Alright, the shotgun is in the safe in my bedroom. It’s the usual code for this month, only backward. Nobody in or out until I get there.”
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. Watch yourself, I’m betting that when we shook them, they headed back to the Shanghai. Blue Nissan, Russian driver, one passenger.”
“Will do. Start securing the place. Use the panic room if you have to.” He hangs up.
It takes me three tries to open the safe, because I keep pressing buttons twice. Calm down Miura. This is not helping. I grab the weapon and a clip-on pouch full of shells, and head down the stairs. Mira is cowering in the corner where the two couches meet, curled up in a ball.
“«That is not a good place to hide. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere that is.»” I tuck the shotgun under my arm, extend my hand, and help her to her feet. From the hidden panel to the wine cellar, I open the door, then punch in the lockdown code: 666. I suppose this was someone’s idea of dark humor, but at least it’s easy to remember. Now it will operate twice as fast and without the deliberate warning noises it usually makes, and will only open or close from the outside if the master code is provided.
I locate a couple of folding chairs at the bottom of the staircase, and let them fall to the floor while I turn on the security monitor. Mira catches on and sets up the chairs while I work. Once I have set up the four-way split-screen to handle all entrances and exits, and turned up the sound to the outdoor microphones, I feel the pressure in my head suddenly drain. I hadn’t even realized it was there, but now I want to throw up.
When I turn around, Mira is kneeling before me in a gesture of total supplication. I haven’t seen someone do that since my days in Sunday School.
«I realize you’re mine
Indeed a fool am I»
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Meet the Rents
MARIKO
“It’s going to be fine,” Kenta reassures me. “I’ll just let you respond to the questions, and try not to look surprised by your answers. They want to believe. They’re not going to poke too hard.” He pats my hand. “You’ll be great. I really appreciate you doing this. You’re a lifesaver.”
You have no idea. If I’m forced to lie to his parents, I’ll just have to explain later and hope he can forgive me.
Ben comes along, whistling airily and jingling his keys. “Is everyone ready? Let’s do it.”
I packed enough for four nights and stayed just one, but Neko assures me we’ll still get to everything on our activity list. We’ve already crossed off horseback riding (or rather, Ben and I did), my first swim lesson, and my first trip. Picking the mushrooms fresh, she told me nobody would notice if my pupils were the size of 1-yen coins, because they generally are. They were slimy, but not otherwise particularly unpleasant to eat, and it was certainly a novel experience.
Tonight I’ll be sleeping in my own bed – not that this is unwelcome. The guest beds here have all the ‘give’ of an overcooked bagel.
Once outside, I figure it’s time to start playing my role. Rather than finding a seat in the car immediately, I wait until Kenta has finished helping Ben secure the bicycles to the roof of the car, then allow him to escort me to my seat. He closes the door behind me and walks around to the other side.
Neko takes the front seat, as is fitting, since we’ll be getting out first. “If you are looking for something to do later, you’re welcome to join me in the radio room,” she says.
“Me, or Kenta?” I’m pretty sure she means me, but she wasn’t very specific.
“Either of you, or both. I don’t care. No rule says you have to be in the club to be in the room.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says politely.
Ben pulls up outside Kenta’s apartment building, and again, Kenta walks around the car and escorts me out.
“That wasn’t really necessary, but thank you,” I tell him.
“If we’re going to do it, we might as well do it right.”
The next couple hours pass in a blur of activity. I wish I could be of more assistance, but in a kitchen as small as this one apparently is, we’d be tripping over each other constantly. He is still running around noisily when the doorbell rings. I stand, but wait for him to pass before dropping in behind him. If I follow his footsteps, I’m unlikely to run into anything.
“Kenta!” A nasal but not particularly high voice calls out.
“Mother!” he responds. I can hear hugs being exchanged. “Father! Glad you could both make it.”
“It has been a while, hasn’t it? I don’t think we’ve been here since the day you moved in. Will Kazuo be joining us?”
“As far as I know, yes, once he gets off work. He actually likes my cooking, if you can believe that.”
“I can,” says Mrs. Takei. “I still remember that time I was sick, and your father was out of town, and he had to cook for the two of us…”
“Come on, he was ten! How much could you expect?”
“I should have let you do it. Even then, you were less likely to set off the smoke alarms.” Everyone else laughs, so I allow myself a grin as well. “In any event, you continued to improve. He didn’t. And you must be…”
Kenta taps me on the arm. She must be speaking to me. “Mariko Kawakami. Glad to meet you.” I bow while taking a slight step backward, to reduce the chances of headbutting anyone.
“Well aren’t you adorable?” Mr. Takei muses, followed by a brief but awkward silence.”
“Uh, father… she can’t see your hand.”
“Oh. What?”
“She’s blind, father. I know we didn’t have time to discuss much when we talked, but…”
“So you really must like him for his charm and wit, as he claimed on the phone. It wouldn’t be his stunning good looks.” This time I can tell he’s speaking to me.
“I – I just like him for who he is. Even I can tell he’s a special guy.”
Mr. Takei laughs a little too loud, and a little too long. “That he is! That he is.”
“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,” Kenta squeezes in. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long, but I also wanted it to still be good for Kaz. In the meantime, there’s beer in the fridge. Don’t blame me for the brand. He picked it, not me.”
We sit in the small but fairly comfortable living room for a while, chatting idly until a timer goes off in the kitchen. Kenta jumps up, and announces in strangely accented English, “«Now it is time to dance,»” before heading off to finish preparing the meal.
Meat loaf was not what I would expect Kenta to serve his parents, but I have to admit he did a superb job with it.
Apparently his mother agrees. “This is better than mine, I think. What did you do differently?”
“I used cheese crackers instead of toast, and French onion soup mix instead of regular onion soup. Otherwise, it’s the same thing you taught me years ago.”
I hear the front door open, then close again. “You started without me?”
“Only just. Kaz, this is Mariko. Mariko, this is my brother Kazuo.” There is another awkward silence. “Kaz… she can’t see your hand.”
“Oh. What?”
Like father, like son.
“Help yourself, boy. You know the drill,” Mr. Takei gruffly orders. “And stop being a hipster. Drinking Chinese beer does not make you cool.”
“I don’t drink it to be cool. I drink it because it’s cheap and doesn’t give me a headache.”
“In that case, carry on. And bring me one too!” More laughter all around. What a strange relationship they have.
***
The parents have already departed when Neko’s message comes through. Kenta and I both get it within seconds of each other. Do not return to the ranch. Lockdown in effect. We weren’t planning to return tonight… but why?
“Do you want to respond, or should I?” I ask.
“You go ahead. You know her better than I do.”
I would rather call than type on my pocket-size brailler, so I do, while wandering out of the room and into the hallway.
“Hi Mariko,” she starts. “Before you ask, nobody is dead. Nobody is even injured or in any known danger. Our plans for tomorrow are right fucked though.”
“What happened?”
“Miki the Moron Miura found herself a girlfriend. Unfortunately, she happens to be a Russian sex slave, and they want her back. Just how badly they want her back remains to be seen, but until we know more, it’s DEFCON one. Miki thinks she shook them off with her fancy driving, but we’re not taking it for granted.”
“Is this for my ears only?”
“Nah. It saves me a bit of time if you tell Kenta, and I have lots of people to contact. I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything.” She disconnects. Doesn’t anyone say goodbye anymore?
I return to the living room. I couldn’t very well explain that it’s not just the two of us, so I will take a guess that Neko probably doesn’t want to spread the word any further than necessary. “Kenta, is there somewhere we could talk?” This is a bad time to be unable to give meaningful looks, but it seems to sink in after a moment.
“Uh, yeah. I need to pack up the leftovers anyhow. They should be cool by now.” He grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen, and drops his voice to a near whisper. “What’s the deal?”
I summarize what Neko told me, though it was brief enough the first time around.
“Unbe-fucking-lievable. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. Yet again, we pay the price for her idiocy. Do you want to stay here, or would you be okay back on campus?”
“It doesn’t sound like there’s any new danger at the school, but Neko’s plans have been blown up. I might as well stay, I’ve still got three changes of clothes left.”
“That works for me. Now I can have a beer or three myself. Want one?”
Why not? How bad can it be? Pretty bad, as it turns out, but none of us care by the fourth one – least of all, me.
“It’s going to be fine,” Kenta reassures me. “I’ll just let you respond to the questions, and try not to look surprised by your answers. They want to believe. They’re not going to poke too hard.” He pats my hand. “You’ll be great. I really appreciate you doing this. You’re a lifesaver.”
You have no idea. If I’m forced to lie to his parents, I’ll just have to explain later and hope he can forgive me.
Ben comes along, whistling airily and jingling his keys. “Is everyone ready? Let’s do it.”
I packed enough for four nights and stayed just one, but Neko assures me we’ll still get to everything on our activity list. We’ve already crossed off horseback riding (or rather, Ben and I did), my first swim lesson, and my first trip. Picking the mushrooms fresh, she told me nobody would notice if my pupils were the size of 1-yen coins, because they generally are. They were slimy, but not otherwise particularly unpleasant to eat, and it was certainly a novel experience.
Tonight I’ll be sleeping in my own bed – not that this is unwelcome. The guest beds here have all the ‘give’ of an overcooked bagel.
Once outside, I figure it’s time to start playing my role. Rather than finding a seat in the car immediately, I wait until Kenta has finished helping Ben secure the bicycles to the roof of the car, then allow him to escort me to my seat. He closes the door behind me and walks around to the other side.
Neko takes the front seat, as is fitting, since we’ll be getting out first. “If you are looking for something to do later, you’re welcome to join me in the radio room,” she says.
“Me, or Kenta?” I’m pretty sure she means me, but she wasn’t very specific.
“Either of you, or both. I don’t care. No rule says you have to be in the club to be in the room.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says politely.
Ben pulls up outside Kenta’s apartment building, and again, Kenta walks around the car and escorts me out.
“That wasn’t really necessary, but thank you,” I tell him.
“If we’re going to do it, we might as well do it right.”
The next couple hours pass in a blur of activity. I wish I could be of more assistance, but in a kitchen as small as this one apparently is, we’d be tripping over each other constantly. He is still running around noisily when the doorbell rings. I stand, but wait for him to pass before dropping in behind him. If I follow his footsteps, I’m unlikely to run into anything.
“Kenta!” A nasal but not particularly high voice calls out.
“Mother!” he responds. I can hear hugs being exchanged. “Father! Glad you could both make it.”
“It has been a while, hasn’t it? I don’t think we’ve been here since the day you moved in. Will Kazuo be joining us?”
“As far as I know, yes, once he gets off work. He actually likes my cooking, if you can believe that.”
“I can,” says Mrs. Takei. “I still remember that time I was sick, and your father was out of town, and he had to cook for the two of us…”
“Come on, he was ten! How much could you expect?”
“I should have let you do it. Even then, you were less likely to set off the smoke alarms.” Everyone else laughs, so I allow myself a grin as well. “In any event, you continued to improve. He didn’t. And you must be…”
Kenta taps me on the arm. She must be speaking to me. “Mariko Kawakami. Glad to meet you.” I bow while taking a slight step backward, to reduce the chances of headbutting anyone.
“Well aren’t you adorable?” Mr. Takei muses, followed by a brief but awkward silence.”
“Uh, father… she can’t see your hand.”
“Oh. What?”
“She’s blind, father. I know we didn’t have time to discuss much when we talked, but…”
“So you really must like him for his charm and wit, as he claimed on the phone. It wouldn’t be his stunning good looks.” This time I can tell he’s speaking to me.
“I – I just like him for who he is. Even I can tell he’s a special guy.”
Mr. Takei laughs a little too loud, and a little too long. “That he is! That he is.”
“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,” Kenta squeezes in. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long, but I also wanted it to still be good for Kaz. In the meantime, there’s beer in the fridge. Don’t blame me for the brand. He picked it, not me.”
We sit in the small but fairly comfortable living room for a while, chatting idly until a timer goes off in the kitchen. Kenta jumps up, and announces in strangely accented English, “«Now it is time to dance,»” before heading off to finish preparing the meal.
Meat loaf was not what I would expect Kenta to serve his parents, but I have to admit he did a superb job with it.
Apparently his mother agrees. “This is better than mine, I think. What did you do differently?”
“I used cheese crackers instead of toast, and French onion soup mix instead of regular onion soup. Otherwise, it’s the same thing you taught me years ago.”
I hear the front door open, then close again. “You started without me?”
“Only just. Kaz, this is Mariko. Mariko, this is my brother Kazuo.” There is another awkward silence. “Kaz… she can’t see your hand.”
“Oh. What?”
Like father, like son.
“Help yourself, boy. You know the drill,” Mr. Takei gruffly orders. “And stop being a hipster. Drinking Chinese beer does not make you cool.”
“I don’t drink it to be cool. I drink it because it’s cheap and doesn’t give me a headache.”
“In that case, carry on. And bring me one too!” More laughter all around. What a strange relationship they have.
***
The parents have already departed when Neko’s message comes through. Kenta and I both get it within seconds of each other. Do not return to the ranch. Lockdown in effect. We weren’t planning to return tonight… but why?
“Do you want to respond, or should I?” I ask.
“You go ahead. You know her better than I do.”
I would rather call than type on my pocket-size brailler, so I do, while wandering out of the room and into the hallway.
“Hi Mariko,” she starts. “Before you ask, nobody is dead. Nobody is even injured or in any known danger. Our plans for tomorrow are right fucked though.”
“What happened?”
“Miki the Moron Miura found herself a girlfriend. Unfortunately, she happens to be a Russian sex slave, and they want her back. Just how badly they want her back remains to be seen, but until we know more, it’s DEFCON one. Miki thinks she shook them off with her fancy driving, but we’re not taking it for granted.”
“Is this for my ears only?”
“Nah. It saves me a bit of time if you tell Kenta, and I have lots of people to contact. I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything.” She disconnects. Doesn’t anyone say goodbye anymore?
I return to the living room. I couldn’t very well explain that it’s not just the two of us, so I will take a guess that Neko probably doesn’t want to spread the word any further than necessary. “Kenta, is there somewhere we could talk?” This is a bad time to be unable to give meaningful looks, but it seems to sink in after a moment.
“Uh, yeah. I need to pack up the leftovers anyhow. They should be cool by now.” He grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen, and drops his voice to a near whisper. “What’s the deal?”
I summarize what Neko told me, though it was brief enough the first time around.
“Unbe-fucking-lievable. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. Yet again, we pay the price for her idiocy. Do you want to stay here, or would you be okay back on campus?”
“It doesn’t sound like there’s any new danger at the school, but Neko’s plans have been blown up. I might as well stay, I’ve still got three changes of clothes left.”
“That works for me. Now I can have a beer or three myself. Want one?”
Why not? How bad can it be? Pretty bad, as it turns out, but none of us care by the fourth one – least of all, me.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Cavalry Arrives
BEN
“Where is your mind, Miura? Did you even stop to think this through before you picked up a Russian whore for a date?” It is difficult to keep my voice down, but I know that so long as I do, Mira won’t catch more than a fragment of what I’m saying.
“I am telling you in all honesty that I did not know. I thought she was a mail-order bride, with a husband and a job and a normal life… and maybe a taste for other girls.” She glances over at Mira, who whips her head back and forth between us as we talk, but still looks thoroughly baffled.
“So you didn’t actually…”
“No, there was no time. We went to dinner, and they followed us back. They also followed us there, but I didn’t realize who they were. It’s not all that strange to have someone behind me all the way to Moniwadai after all, not any more.”
No, it isn’t, and I have to take the blame for some of that. Our marketing has been rather successful. “Well, it is starting to look like you did successfully shake them off your tail, but it’s only a matter of time before they figure out where you must have vanished. We’ll keep the perimeter alarms active until reinforcements start to arrive.” I managed to call in favors from loosely affiliated groups, who have every bit as much motivation to keep the Russians in check.
“«Is safe now?»” That seems to be the depth of Mira’s understanding.
“«For the moment, yes,»” Miki reassures her. «We have reinforcements on the way.»”
“«Why you do this? Why for me?»”
Because she’s a bloody imbecile.
“«Really, I didn’t think about it, it all happened too fast. I thought we were being followed, so I did something about it, and here we are.»”
Here we are, sitting in the wine cellar, waiting for Yakuza footsoldiers, when I was snug in bed with that cutie. You owe me, Miura. You owe me big time.
She must get uncomfortable with the silence, my staring at her, or both. “So what’s our next move? After the cavalry arrives, I mean.”
“You help me change the sheets in Neko’s room. They’re going to be barracking there and in the guest room for the immediate future, and I don’t want to worry about what might be on those sheets. She,” I say while tipping my head toward our fugitive, “is going to have to take a couch or sleep with you.”
“That’s up to her, not me. She’s not my slave.” I register genuine disgust on her face. So you have a conscience after all.
***
I wave our temporary help around to park in back as they arrive. I don’t want things to appear any different from normal, if someone comes rolling up to the front. Because of this, they enter through the laundry room and all of us convene in the kitchen. I give them the rundown of the situation, show them where they’ll be sleeping, hand out two-way radios, and familiarize them with the surveillance setup. They in turn give me a hint of what they’re carrying, though I would not be at all surprised if they’ve got a few holdouts as well.
“That should be more than adequate,” I opine. “If they rush us in numbers that the five of us can’t deal with, we’re not going to ask you to try. We’ll hole up here in the panic room and call for backup. This is a security detail, not a suicide mission. I leave it to you to figure out your shifts. Including the one watching the cameras from down here, I want two on duty during the day, and three at night, counting me. Any special requests?”
“Uh, yeah,” one of them starts. “I’m a vegetarian.” He looks slightly embarrassed, but this plays into my hands.
“Not a problem. Do you have a problem with eggs or dairy?”
“Nope. Just don’t kill anything for me… unless of course it’s trying to kill us.”
I nod. “As you wish. In return, I ask for no smoking in the house, unless the shit hits the fan, because it will hardly matter then, will it? Go out the back, where you came in. That’s where everyone else does it. I’m not your parent and I won’t tell you not to drink or do anything else, but keep your wits about you. We have pick-me-ups if you need them. Well, let’s get to it. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.” We head back up the stairs, except for the one quickly assigned to camera duty.
I look for Miki, but don’t spot her. While I don’t actually need her to help me make a bed, I intend to make her pull her own weight during this crisis. I try her phone, and sure enough, I hear tinny death metal coming from Neko’s bedroom. I hang up before she can answer, the mission having already been accomplished.
I step inside to find that Miki and Mira have already changed the bedding, and are working at straightening up the room in general. “Go spend some time together. In the morning, we’re moving her somewhere else. We can’t adequately defend her here, and business needs to continue. I don’t know if you’ll see her again anytime soon.”
Miki snaps to attention and gives me a salute, then bounds out the open door with Mira following her like a lost puppy.
I am so glad I’ll be retired from this job before she takes over. I’m bald enough as it is.
“Where is your mind, Miura? Did you even stop to think this through before you picked up a Russian whore for a date?” It is difficult to keep my voice down, but I know that so long as I do, Mira won’t catch more than a fragment of what I’m saying.
“I am telling you in all honesty that I did not know. I thought she was a mail-order bride, with a husband and a job and a normal life… and maybe a taste for other girls.” She glances over at Mira, who whips her head back and forth between us as we talk, but still looks thoroughly baffled.
“So you didn’t actually…”
“No, there was no time. We went to dinner, and they followed us back. They also followed us there, but I didn’t realize who they were. It’s not all that strange to have someone behind me all the way to Moniwadai after all, not any more.”
No, it isn’t, and I have to take the blame for some of that. Our marketing has been rather successful. “Well, it is starting to look like you did successfully shake them off your tail, but it’s only a matter of time before they figure out where you must have vanished. We’ll keep the perimeter alarms active until reinforcements start to arrive.” I managed to call in favors from loosely affiliated groups, who have every bit as much motivation to keep the Russians in check.
“«Is safe now?»” That seems to be the depth of Mira’s understanding.
“«For the moment, yes,»” Miki reassures her. «We have reinforcements on the way.»”
“«Why you do this? Why for me?»”
Because she’s a bloody imbecile.
“«Really, I didn’t think about it, it all happened too fast. I thought we were being followed, so I did something about it, and here we are.»”
Here we are, sitting in the wine cellar, waiting for Yakuza footsoldiers, when I was snug in bed with that cutie. You owe me, Miura. You owe me big time.
She must get uncomfortable with the silence, my staring at her, or both. “So what’s our next move? After the cavalry arrives, I mean.”
“You help me change the sheets in Neko’s room. They’re going to be barracking there and in the guest room for the immediate future, and I don’t want to worry about what might be on those sheets. She,” I say while tipping my head toward our fugitive, “is going to have to take a couch or sleep with you.”
“That’s up to her, not me. She’s not my slave.” I register genuine disgust on her face. So you have a conscience after all.
***
I wave our temporary help around to park in back as they arrive. I don’t want things to appear any different from normal, if someone comes rolling up to the front. Because of this, they enter through the laundry room and all of us convene in the kitchen. I give them the rundown of the situation, show them where they’ll be sleeping, hand out two-way radios, and familiarize them with the surveillance setup. They in turn give me a hint of what they’re carrying, though I would not be at all surprised if they’ve got a few holdouts as well.
“That should be more than adequate,” I opine. “If they rush us in numbers that the five of us can’t deal with, we’re not going to ask you to try. We’ll hole up here in the panic room and call for backup. This is a security detail, not a suicide mission. I leave it to you to figure out your shifts. Including the one watching the cameras from down here, I want two on duty during the day, and three at night, counting me. Any special requests?”
“Uh, yeah,” one of them starts. “I’m a vegetarian.” He looks slightly embarrassed, but this plays into my hands.
“Not a problem. Do you have a problem with eggs or dairy?”
“Nope. Just don’t kill anything for me… unless of course it’s trying to kill us.”
I nod. “As you wish. In return, I ask for no smoking in the house, unless the shit hits the fan, because it will hardly matter then, will it? Go out the back, where you came in. That’s where everyone else does it. I’m not your parent and I won’t tell you not to drink or do anything else, but keep your wits about you. We have pick-me-ups if you need them. Well, let’s get to it. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.” We head back up the stairs, except for the one quickly assigned to camera duty.
I look for Miki, but don’t spot her. While I don’t actually need her to help me make a bed, I intend to make her pull her own weight during this crisis. I try her phone, and sure enough, I hear tinny death metal coming from Neko’s bedroom. I hang up before she can answer, the mission having already been accomplished.
I step inside to find that Miki and Mira have already changed the bedding, and are working at straightening up the room in general. “Go spend some time together. In the morning, we’re moving her somewhere else. We can’t adequately defend her here, and business needs to continue. I don’t know if you’ll see her again anytime soon.”
Miki snaps to attention and gives me a salute, then bounds out the open door with Mira following her like a lost puppy.
I am so glad I’ll be retired from this job before she takes over. I’m bald enough as it is.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) We've Got Tonight
MIRA
I follow her to a fancy bedroom, with thick white carpet and a large four-post bed, also finished in white. “«I am forever thanking. If they catch us, I am dead. Maybe you too.»”
«I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me»
She starts rummaging through a closet in the corner, and emerges with a white robe. “«See if this fits you.»” I start to pull it on over my clothes, since this is only a test fit, but she tugs at the edges. “«No, no, no… you’ll want clean clothes tomorrow, and that’s all you have. Give them to me, I’ll start a load of laundry.»”
I strip out of my clothes and hand them to her, one piece at a time. She gasps when she sees the rainbow of bruises I carry, from fresh red-brown to old blue to even older yellow. “«They’ll pay for that. Every one of those marks on you will be avenged.»”
“«Is no time for that.»” I hand her the last pieces and slip into the robe.
“«I’ll make time. Revenge is a dish best served cold.»” She slips out, closing the outer door behind her, but returns within a minute or so, gesturing toward the shower. “«You could probably use some freshening up. I know I smell like fear.»”
The warm water feels good, but it also makes me sleepy, so I step out of it when I’m not washing. It also gives me a chance to look at my avenging angel. With that body, and her exotic looks, she probably could command a higher price than I do. Did. I have to stop thinking like that.
«Still here we are, both of us lonely
Longing for shelter from all that we see»
She is busy washing her long hair when she asks, “«Did you know they would be following us?»”
“«No. I was think they follow me. I was not think they follow car, not so far anyhow.»
“«You understand that you can’t stay here, right? This isn’t even my house, and if it was, you still wouldn’t be safe for very long. Ben is right, they are going to figure out where we went before too long. We have to get you somewhere safe, somewhere out of their reach.»”
“«Yes, yes, I know. Not want, but must do.»” I look down, my eyes unfocusing. So this is freedom. I am free to do more things I don’t like.
“«I will find you. Just give me a thread to follow, and I will find you. Not only will I find you – we will find them. Both of us. And we’ll make them regret what they did to you.»” The feeling of her placing one hand and one no-hand on the backs of mine reminds me that she has her own story, reminds me that my angel is kalechit.
“«Is not time for regret. Is time to give thanks.» I clasp her hand and her arm, and pull us closer together.
«We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
Let's make it last, let's find a way
Turn out the light, come take my hand now
We've got tonight babe, why don't you stay?»
I follow her to a fancy bedroom, with thick white carpet and a large four-post bed, also finished in white. “«I am forever thanking. If they catch us, I am dead. Maybe you too.»”
«I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me»
She starts rummaging through a closet in the corner, and emerges with a white robe. “«See if this fits you.»” I start to pull it on over my clothes, since this is only a test fit, but she tugs at the edges. “«No, no, no… you’ll want clean clothes tomorrow, and that’s all you have. Give them to me, I’ll start a load of laundry.»”
I strip out of my clothes and hand them to her, one piece at a time. She gasps when she sees the rainbow of bruises I carry, from fresh red-brown to old blue to even older yellow. “«They’ll pay for that. Every one of those marks on you will be avenged.»”
“«Is no time for that.»” I hand her the last pieces and slip into the robe.
“«I’ll make time. Revenge is a dish best served cold.»” She slips out, closing the outer door behind her, but returns within a minute or so, gesturing toward the shower. “«You could probably use some freshening up. I know I smell like fear.»”
The warm water feels good, but it also makes me sleepy, so I step out of it when I’m not washing. It also gives me a chance to look at my avenging angel. With that body, and her exotic looks, she probably could command a higher price than I do. Did. I have to stop thinking like that.
«Still here we are, both of us lonely
Longing for shelter from all that we see»
She is busy washing her long hair when she asks, “«Did you know they would be following us?»”
“«No. I was think they follow me. I was not think they follow car, not so far anyhow.»
“«You understand that you can’t stay here, right? This isn’t even my house, and if it was, you still wouldn’t be safe for very long. Ben is right, they are going to figure out where we went before too long. We have to get you somewhere safe, somewhere out of their reach.»”
“«Yes, yes, I know. Not want, but must do.»” I look down, my eyes unfocusing. So this is freedom. I am free to do more things I don’t like.
“«I will find you. Just give me a thread to follow, and I will find you. Not only will I find you – we will find them. Both of us. And we’ll make them regret what they did to you.»” The feeling of her placing one hand and one no-hand on the backs of mine reminds me that she has her own story, reminds me that my angel is kalechit.
“«Is not time for regret. Is time to give thanks.» I clasp her hand and her arm, and pull us closer together.
«We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
Let's make it last, let's find a way
Turn out the light, come take my hand now
We've got tonight babe, why don't you stay?»
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Scatter Drill
DAISUKE
Miura, you are such a bonehead.
We sit, three Partners and myself, around the long table with the conference phone in the center.
“I feel we should have the client on the line as well,” says Ozuka, across the table and to my right. “She’s the one putting up the money.”
“I quite agree with you,” Ben’s voice says from the other side. “Unfortunately, she’s rafting the Amazon or some such nonsense, and will be in intermittent contact at best for several days.”
She must have had good fortune with the business angle, or she would not take the time for something frivolous.
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” I point out. “Expediency is key here, and there is already a retainer set up for the other case in the works, which is not exactly going anywhere. She granted me the power to make these decisions in her stead – because I would anyhow. She may require convincing, but she has always deferred to my advice before. This isn’t going to be that expensive anyhow.”
“So you have a plan?” That would be the youngest of the Muramoto brothers.
“Indeed I do. Create chaos.” I raise my voice for the benefit of the conferencees. “How many cars do you have available out there, and how many drivers?”
Ben seems to have anticipated this line of thought. “Our guards brought two, and we have five already on site. Drivers? Let me check.” I can hear him mumbling with the crowd on his end.
Five? You guys got yet another car?
“We have five drivers, six if you count the prize herself.”
“No. I don’t want her driving, even if she can. She needs to stay invisible. Five should be enough. Here’s the plan. I want all five cars to leave at once. Load up right outside the door, so anyone watching from a distance will have difficulty picking out individuals. Put two people into as many of the cars as you possibly can, and the second person is to stay hidden no matter who they are. Then head here. Start north together, but scatter as soon as you get into the city and take separate routes. We’re trying to sow as much confusion as possible. They can’t follow all of you.”
“I like this plan.” I don’t recognize the voice. It must be one of the hired help.
“Me too.” That’s Ben. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Drive reasonably. There is nothing illegal about what we’re doing – well, other than crouching in back, which is only mildly illegal – so don’t get flustered. Stay in contact with each other, and try to figure out who they are following. That car should take the most roundabout route of all, but still end up here. We won’t make our next move until everyone is here, or until we’re told someone won’t be arriving for one reason or another. If anyone being followed does get pulled over, and can’t talk their way out of it, get arrested. At least that way we know the Russians can’t get to you, and we’ll bail you out.”
“And if they guess right?”
“Keep another car nearby. Run them off the road if you have to.”
There is more mumbling on the other end, then a beep as the phone on that end goes from speaker back to normal. Ben picks up. “I knew you’d come through. This sounds much safer than our tentative plan.”
“Do we even want to know what that was?”
“It involved Miura and the Viper.” Eyes are rolling all over the room at this revelation.
“I think the odds of their survival have greatly increased, then.” It would be a shame to lose Cleopatra. “Let’s get started.”
Miura, you are such a bonehead.
We sit, three Partners and myself, around the long table with the conference phone in the center.
“I feel we should have the client on the line as well,” says Ozuka, across the table and to my right. “She’s the one putting up the money.”
“I quite agree with you,” Ben’s voice says from the other side. “Unfortunately, she’s rafting the Amazon or some such nonsense, and will be in intermittent contact at best for several days.”
She must have had good fortune with the business angle, or she would not take the time for something frivolous.
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” I point out. “Expediency is key here, and there is already a retainer set up for the other case in the works, which is not exactly going anywhere. She granted me the power to make these decisions in her stead – because I would anyhow. She may require convincing, but she has always deferred to my advice before. This isn’t going to be that expensive anyhow.”
“So you have a plan?” That would be the youngest of the Muramoto brothers.
“Indeed I do. Create chaos.” I raise my voice for the benefit of the conferencees. “How many cars do you have available out there, and how many drivers?”
Ben seems to have anticipated this line of thought. “Our guards brought two, and we have five already on site. Drivers? Let me check.” I can hear him mumbling with the crowd on his end.
Five? You guys got yet another car?
“We have five drivers, six if you count the prize herself.”
“No. I don’t want her driving, even if she can. She needs to stay invisible. Five should be enough. Here’s the plan. I want all five cars to leave at once. Load up right outside the door, so anyone watching from a distance will have difficulty picking out individuals. Put two people into as many of the cars as you possibly can, and the second person is to stay hidden no matter who they are. Then head here. Start north together, but scatter as soon as you get into the city and take separate routes. We’re trying to sow as much confusion as possible. They can’t follow all of you.”
“I like this plan.” I don’t recognize the voice. It must be one of the hired help.
“Me too.” That’s Ben. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Drive reasonably. There is nothing illegal about what we’re doing – well, other than crouching in back, which is only mildly illegal – so don’t get flustered. Stay in contact with each other, and try to figure out who they are following. That car should take the most roundabout route of all, but still end up here. We won’t make our next move until everyone is here, or until we’re told someone won’t be arriving for one reason or another. If anyone being followed does get pulled over, and can’t talk their way out of it, get arrested. At least that way we know the Russians can’t get to you, and we’ll bail you out.”
“And if they guess right?”
“Keep another car nearby. Run them off the road if you have to.”
There is more mumbling on the other end, then a beep as the phone on that end goes from speaker back to normal. Ben picks up. “I knew you’d come through. This sounds much safer than our tentative plan.”
“Do we even want to know what that was?”
“It involved Miura and the Viper.” Eyes are rolling all over the room at this revelation.
“I think the odds of their survival have greatly increased, then.” It would be a shame to lose Cleopatra. “Let’s get started.”
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Crying Game
KENTA
I awake from a dream which revolved heavily around needing to find a restroom. As is usually the case in this situation, I find that I need to in reality as well. I start to roll out of bed, only to find the way obstructed. She wasn’t there when I fell asleep, I’m pretty sure.
I roll out the other side, glad I never got around to pushing the bed against the wall, and attend to business. I check the clock – twelve after nine. I was supposed to monitor the track this morning. Oh well, it hardly matters. I don’t know that I’ll even have a team to watch over much longer. Miki the Moron strikes again.
I start coffee. There is a good chance this will bring everyone around on its own, but if not, I’ll have to wake them. Then I make enough scrambled eggs and toast to make a full breakfast out of the remaining meat loaf.
The plan works halfway. Mariko wanders first into the restroom, then into the dining room, looking a bit worse for wear. Maybe that cheap Chinese beer doesn’t give Kaz a headache, but it appears not everyone is immune.
“How do you feel?” I ask her.
“I’ve been better. I’ve also been worse.” She feels her way to a seat at the table.
“Maybe you’ll feel better after breakfast. I need to wake my brother, since he didn’t wake up and smell the coffee on his own.” I knock at his door. “Kaz, I made breakfast.” No answer. “Hey, don’t sleep through it. Food helps hangovers. Come on out.” Still no answer.
Glancing to the left, I see the note written on the bathroom mirror in dry erase pen. ‘Gone surfing. Have fun.’ I must have missed that when I woke up.
“Looks like lunch will be meat loaf and eggs too, he went surfing. What did you have planned?”
“I don’t know. I should probably check with Neko.” She heads out to the living room for her phone. When she gets back, I already have our plates prepared.
“I put the main course on the left and the toast on the right. Coffee is in back and to your right. Would you like milk or sugar?”
“Both, please. Two sugars.”
I dress up her coffee as requested, and take the seat at the end, to her right. At first, we just eat, and the silence seems natural. She picks at her food a little, but I’m not entirely sure what her normal eating habits are. I was a bit preoccupied last night to pay attention that closely.
“Is everything alright? We have other things too, if this doesn’t suit you. Cereal, jam for your toast, whatever might sit best.”
“N-no, it’s not that. I’m just not all that hungry yet. I’ll take more coffee though.”
I pour her some more, and fix it up just as before. “Not a problem, I’ll just pack it away for later when you are. I wanted you to know that I really appreciate you coming through the way you did. My parents really seemed to like you.”
“I’m glad. They were not at all what I was expecting. I don’t know what I was expecting, but they were not it.”
«Your Mommy's all right
Your Daddy's all right
They just seem a little weird
Surrender
Surrender
But don't give yourself away»
I laugh. “Father was a video game developer back in the day. He has since moved up into management, but his sense of humor remains a bit warped. Mother is a voice actress. That’s a quirky bunch too. I could have warned you, but they’re quite used to people thinking they are strange.”
“I have to share something with you. Your parents were talking about grandchildren…” She trails off.
“Well, yes. Isn’t that how it always goes? Of course they want children around. It makes them feel young, and they don’t have to be responsible for the little ankle-biters.”
“But what about you? What do you want?”
“I’m afraid I’m just not cut out for a conventional family life. They’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
“That was what I was going to tell you. It’s not in my future either.”
“You’re into girls? That shouldn’t be a deal-breaker. Miura is too, and she plans to…”
“No, I mean I can’t. I wasn’t made that way.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” I say it mostly because a response seems to be expected, not because it adds anything to the conversation.
“I’m, ah… I’m not entirely what I appear to be. Not functionally female, but also not male. My parents had to guess which way to present me, based on what they knew at the time. Fortunately, they chose correctly.”
“Oh my.” Stop it, Kenta. If you can’t think of something intelligent to say, maybe you should shut the fuck up. “I can see how that would complicate things.”
“Complicate?” Her voice takes on a bitter edge. “How about eliminate? What man is going to want a wife who can’t bear his children, a wife that can’t even make love to him properly?” She has her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.
“I can’t speak for anyone else, only myself.” I get to my feet, taking care not to make the chair chatter across the floor as I do. I step around behind her chair and put my hands on her shoulders. When she doesn’t flinch, I do my best to loosen her tension a little bit. “Just the same, I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who wouldn’t care.”
She continues to cry a bit into her breakfast napkin. “D-do you really mean it? You don’t have a problem with it?”
“I don’t know. You’re not trying to say you have teeth down there, are you?”
This turns her sobbing into giggles. “Wouldn’t that just be legendary? No, no teeth.”
“No spikes? No stingers? No tentacles?”
“You’re even stranger than your parents.”
“I try.”
Over the course of an hour or so, and some more cheap Chinese beer, she tells me about her difficulties with other children finding out and bullying her about it, and how protective her brother had become over the years because of it. She even had one slip at Yamaku, being seen in a state of undress by a student who couldn’t keep his fool mouth shut. It was the first – and hopefully last – time she had a need to resort to violence to keep the situation from blowing up.
“You know the saying, ‘blind rage’?” she asks me as she is wrapping up this tale.
“Of course.”
“Well that’s what he got. A decade of rage, all bottled up inside me, and poured out in a few seconds. I don’t know what was bleeding more when I finished, his mouth or my hands. It was wrong of me to fly off the handle like that, and I’m not proud of what I did. But…” She trails off again.
“But what?”
“It worked. Maybe I knocked the memory right out of his head, but he has never repeated anything he saw or anything that happened between us that day – or at least it has never gotten back to me.”
“Oh. What else do you like to do,” I ask, eager to change the subject, “when you’re not beating up Peeping Toms?”
“You probably already gathered that I’m in the Radio Club, but I also spend a lot of time playing and reading about Go.”
“How do you know where the lines are, or what color the stones are?”
“It’s not that difficult, actually. I use a board with indentations at the intersections, the black stones have holes in the middle, and of course, there is no rule against touching stones on the board. I’d be happy to show you, once I can get to them. I even play online. The computer announces the opponent’s moves, and I match them on my real board.”
“You’ll have to do more than just show me. We should play. I’m not particularly good, but…”
“That’s what a handicap is for. I would love to play. Nobody else seems to have the patience, which is why I play online so much.”
I can tell from her smile that she’s not just humoring me. She really does want someone to play a game with, face to face. “I do need to run this afternoon. I’ve been rather lazy lately. Kaz took the car, so would you be alright with a half-kilometer walk back to the school with me after lunch? I’ll guide, of course. Maybe we could find time for a game after my run.”
If only she could look in a mirror right now. She has no idea how cute she is when she’s happy.
I awake from a dream which revolved heavily around needing to find a restroom. As is usually the case in this situation, I find that I need to in reality as well. I start to roll out of bed, only to find the way obstructed. She wasn’t there when I fell asleep, I’m pretty sure.
I roll out the other side, glad I never got around to pushing the bed against the wall, and attend to business. I check the clock – twelve after nine. I was supposed to monitor the track this morning. Oh well, it hardly matters. I don’t know that I’ll even have a team to watch over much longer. Miki the Moron strikes again.
I start coffee. There is a good chance this will bring everyone around on its own, but if not, I’ll have to wake them. Then I make enough scrambled eggs and toast to make a full breakfast out of the remaining meat loaf.
The plan works halfway. Mariko wanders first into the restroom, then into the dining room, looking a bit worse for wear. Maybe that cheap Chinese beer doesn’t give Kaz a headache, but it appears not everyone is immune.
“How do you feel?” I ask her.
“I’ve been better. I’ve also been worse.” She feels her way to a seat at the table.
“Maybe you’ll feel better after breakfast. I need to wake my brother, since he didn’t wake up and smell the coffee on his own.” I knock at his door. “Kaz, I made breakfast.” No answer. “Hey, don’t sleep through it. Food helps hangovers. Come on out.” Still no answer.
Glancing to the left, I see the note written on the bathroom mirror in dry erase pen. ‘Gone surfing. Have fun.’ I must have missed that when I woke up.
“Looks like lunch will be meat loaf and eggs too, he went surfing. What did you have planned?”
“I don’t know. I should probably check with Neko.” She heads out to the living room for her phone. When she gets back, I already have our plates prepared.
“I put the main course on the left and the toast on the right. Coffee is in back and to your right. Would you like milk or sugar?”
“Both, please. Two sugars.”
I dress up her coffee as requested, and take the seat at the end, to her right. At first, we just eat, and the silence seems natural. She picks at her food a little, but I’m not entirely sure what her normal eating habits are. I was a bit preoccupied last night to pay attention that closely.
“Is everything alright? We have other things too, if this doesn’t suit you. Cereal, jam for your toast, whatever might sit best.”
“N-no, it’s not that. I’m just not all that hungry yet. I’ll take more coffee though.”
I pour her some more, and fix it up just as before. “Not a problem, I’ll just pack it away for later when you are. I wanted you to know that I really appreciate you coming through the way you did. My parents really seemed to like you.”
“I’m glad. They were not at all what I was expecting. I don’t know what I was expecting, but they were not it.”
«Your Mommy's all right
Your Daddy's all right
They just seem a little weird
Surrender
Surrender
But don't give yourself away»
I laugh. “Father was a video game developer back in the day. He has since moved up into management, but his sense of humor remains a bit warped. Mother is a voice actress. That’s a quirky bunch too. I could have warned you, but they’re quite used to people thinking they are strange.”
“I have to share something with you. Your parents were talking about grandchildren…” She trails off.
“Well, yes. Isn’t that how it always goes? Of course they want children around. It makes them feel young, and they don’t have to be responsible for the little ankle-biters.”
“But what about you? What do you want?”
“I’m afraid I’m just not cut out for a conventional family life. They’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
“That was what I was going to tell you. It’s not in my future either.”
“You’re into girls? That shouldn’t be a deal-breaker. Miura is too, and she plans to…”
“No, I mean I can’t. I wasn’t made that way.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” I say it mostly because a response seems to be expected, not because it adds anything to the conversation.
“I’m, ah… I’m not entirely what I appear to be. Not functionally female, but also not male. My parents had to guess which way to present me, based on what they knew at the time. Fortunately, they chose correctly.”
“Oh my.” Stop it, Kenta. If you can’t think of something intelligent to say, maybe you should shut the fuck up. “I can see how that would complicate things.”
“Complicate?” Her voice takes on a bitter edge. “How about eliminate? What man is going to want a wife who can’t bear his children, a wife that can’t even make love to him properly?” She has her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.
“I can’t speak for anyone else, only myself.” I get to my feet, taking care not to make the chair chatter across the floor as I do. I step around behind her chair and put my hands on her shoulders. When she doesn’t flinch, I do my best to loosen her tension a little bit. “Just the same, I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who wouldn’t care.”
She continues to cry a bit into her breakfast napkin. “D-do you really mean it? You don’t have a problem with it?”
“I don’t know. You’re not trying to say you have teeth down there, are you?”
This turns her sobbing into giggles. “Wouldn’t that just be legendary? No, no teeth.”
“No spikes? No stingers? No tentacles?”
“You’re even stranger than your parents.”
“I try.”
Over the course of an hour or so, and some more cheap Chinese beer, she tells me about her difficulties with other children finding out and bullying her about it, and how protective her brother had become over the years because of it. She even had one slip at Yamaku, being seen in a state of undress by a student who couldn’t keep his fool mouth shut. It was the first – and hopefully last – time she had a need to resort to violence to keep the situation from blowing up.
“You know the saying, ‘blind rage’?” she asks me as she is wrapping up this tale.
“Of course.”
“Well that’s what he got. A decade of rage, all bottled up inside me, and poured out in a few seconds. I don’t know what was bleeding more when I finished, his mouth or my hands. It was wrong of me to fly off the handle like that, and I’m not proud of what I did. But…” She trails off again.
“But what?”
“It worked. Maybe I knocked the memory right out of his head, but he has never repeated anything he saw or anything that happened between us that day – or at least it has never gotten back to me.”
“Oh. What else do you like to do,” I ask, eager to change the subject, “when you’re not beating up Peeping Toms?”
“You probably already gathered that I’m in the Radio Club, but I also spend a lot of time playing and reading about Go.”
“How do you know where the lines are, or what color the stones are?”
“It’s not that difficult, actually. I use a board with indentations at the intersections, the black stones have holes in the middle, and of course, there is no rule against touching stones on the board. I’d be happy to show you, once I can get to them. I even play online. The computer announces the opponent’s moves, and I match them on my real board.”
“You’ll have to do more than just show me. We should play. I’m not particularly good, but…”
“That’s what a handicap is for. I would love to play. Nobody else seems to have the patience, which is why I play online so much.”
I can tell from her smile that she’s not just humoring me. She really does want someone to play a game with, face to face. “I do need to run this afternoon. I’ve been rather lazy lately. Kaz took the car, so would you be alright with a half-kilometer walk back to the school with me after lunch? I’ll guide, of course. Maybe we could find time for a game after my run.”
If only she could look in a mirror right now. She has no idea how cute she is when she’s happy.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Shipping Mira
BEN
We debated for a bit who would be the bag man. Most likely, the ones tracking us noticed that I was the first one to pull up after the original incident, and leaving her in Miura’s hands – err, hand – would be… well, it’d be about as crazy as she is. That left our other drivers, who we were forced to trust in this position, until it was pointed out that we could switch cars. They’d be marking vehicles, at least until they could identify drivers.
It worked, as best we could tell. The Russians had gotten a second car in on the act – a silver Prius, which gave me a bit of a chuckle, until I remembered how they handle in turns, which is quite nicely. In any case, the Prius followed the Bimmer, and the blue Nissan followed my car, while Mira crouched behind the seat in a soldier’s car. Making it to the Muramoto offices unmolested was a rather simple affair, and the two tracked cars gave as many false leads as possible once they reached the outskirts of Sendai.
Daisuke meets us in the parking basement, along with co-workers I can only assume are the ones who were on the conference call. All social graces are deferred until we can make it upstairs, and they will have to be repeated when the two diverging cars arrive anyhow, so they are kept to a minimum even there. I catch an obvious crossing of eye contact between Miki and one of the partners, but I’m unable to discern whether it means ‘you did it again,’ or ‘thanks for the business’. We sit and sip at cups of coffee until our last two drivers arrive.
“I’m pretty sure they’re on to us,” says the last arrival. “I shook off the Prius, but they must have had reinforcements ready. I couldn’t identify who was or was not following me in city traffic, so I may have just led them straight to us.” He hands the keys over to Miki, who hands her keys to their rightful owner, and so on until we all have our own, as we all get introduced. Three partners, two of them Muramoto brothers. This must be a big deal even for them.
“Right,” says the apparently older brother, “we’ve prepared for that. Everyone in this office who drove this morning will be joining our escort team. Let them follow us if they want. They’ll have to get past our rolling roadblock.”
“Where exactly are we taking her?” I nod in Mira’s direction.
“The only place we know we can get sponsorship,” says Daisuke. “I’ve already reached your boss, and she said ‘yeah, whatever’ to the notion, so it’s the Australian consulate for her. Besides, you said she speaks some English, right? Best we send her somewhere she at least sort of speaks the language.”
I think she’ll have as hard a time with Bogan English as with a completely new language, just as I did, but he does have a point. At least there will be some people there willing to straighten themselves up and speak comprehensibly. She also won’t look out of place, and if she can’t find work, there’s always room for another jillaroo down there.
Mira is happy to accept a fresh set of clothes, but cries while her hair is dyed to a muddy brown. Even with Miki holding her hand, she seems devastated by this, or perhaps it’s knowing that she’ll soon be shipped out of the country. She’s getting what she wanted, but apparently hadn’t realized the cost. Once we get Mira straightened up, and in substantially different makeup as an added bonus, she could almost pass for Southeast Asian, at least from a distance. That should help with our campaign of confusion.
“Are we ready?” The elder Muramoto brother looks and sounds eager to go. “They know we’re coming.”
Once under the building at the parking level, we scatter to our respective vehicles. There are multiple sounds of slamming doors, then the faint sounds of some sort of struggle. Miki bursts out of the 750i, her hand and forearm covered in blood, and sprints across the structure. She is chased by a man in a black suit, who is also covered in blood.
Daisuke takes a perfect intercepting angle and tackles the suited man on the dead run, and soon all of us except Mira and her immediate handlers have arrived to greet him, as he presses his nearly severed ear to the side of his head.
“How come nobody spotted him, wherever he was hiding?” Daisuke demands to know, giving everyone equally damning glances.
“He was…” Miki blurts out between gasps for air, “...hiding in… the back seat! He tried…” She clutches at her own throat. Nobody asks where the bloody knife in the car came from. I already know, because I put it there – not yet bloody, of course – and the attorneys don’t want to know.
We leave our new guest with some other staffers and make it to the consulate without further incident – short one vehicle and its driver, who remains behind to get cleaned up and give a report – although we were conspicuously followed. They were just powerless to stop our ‘rolling roadblock’. That doesn’t mean this is over, though. By all indications, we’ll be seeing them again, and probably sooner rather than later. Our rented mooks are not off duty just yet.
‘Dumping bodies’ may not be a joke for very much longer.
***
“You want to what?” I stare at Miura in her white bathrobe, hair still damp from the shower. “Not three hours ago, a Russian gangster tried to kill you and you damn near cut off his ear. Now you want to go dancing?”
“No, not exactly. Conflict – and I suppose near-death experiences as well – leave me all worked up. I want to go to a dance club, pick someone up, and shag until neither of us can walk! Is that really so hard to believe?”
“No, from you I suppose it isn’t. Fine, if that’s what you want, call someone, but you can’t leave. It will take all night for the cleaners to get the blood out of the seats even if it was safe to go back to the city, which it most definitely is not!” I don’t have to like you, but I did promise to try to keep you from getting killed.
Her first time, she chooses poorly – Kenta. Whatever he said to her proposition, she responds with “That could be arranged,” before disconnecting in a huff. Her second call must go to voice mail. “I’d have better luck ordering a pizza and answering the door naked,” she muses. “I wonder what your boy is doing.”
Oh, you did not just go there. “If you try anything on him, Russians will be the least of your problems. I steered him toward that mop-haired friend of yours to keep him out of Sally’s clutches, and there’s no bloody chance I’ll let you corrupt him!”
“Dude, chill.” This gets a glare out of me. “He already had that chance, and didn’t take it. But you did just give me an idea.” She dials again, to another familiar face.
“Junpei, you gaylord! Your horse is getting lonely out here. … Okay, your father’s horse. I don’t care, that wasn’t the point. Point was, we haven’t seen you in a while. … No, she’s still in South America, surfing the Amazon or some dumb shit like that. I didn’t call you to talk about horses though. The horse may or may not be lonely, but that was never my point. I am.” She smiles as he babbles. “Yes, yes I am. Dead serious. ... That will do.”
Turning to me, she asks, “Is it too dangerous to take the Fit out to pick him up? I’ll take one of the mooks with me if it makes you feel any better.”
I’m sorry, Sally. You stressed the importance of keeping her alive. I think that takes precedence over the purity of your former bedwarmer. “That would make me feel quite a lot better, but do you have to go yourself?”
“Do you think he’s going to get in a car with a tattooed stranger at the wheel?” She has a point.
We interrupt the Wii time of two of our ‘guests’, and they work something out between them. Soon she’s back on the road, with muscle at her shoulder.
The day Sally ‘retires’ will be quite a traumatic one for Sendai. Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
We debated for a bit who would be the bag man. Most likely, the ones tracking us noticed that I was the first one to pull up after the original incident, and leaving her in Miura’s hands – err, hand – would be… well, it’d be about as crazy as she is. That left our other drivers, who we were forced to trust in this position, until it was pointed out that we could switch cars. They’d be marking vehicles, at least until they could identify drivers.
It worked, as best we could tell. The Russians had gotten a second car in on the act – a silver Prius, which gave me a bit of a chuckle, until I remembered how they handle in turns, which is quite nicely. In any case, the Prius followed the Bimmer, and the blue Nissan followed my car, while Mira crouched behind the seat in a soldier’s car. Making it to the Muramoto offices unmolested was a rather simple affair, and the two tracked cars gave as many false leads as possible once they reached the outskirts of Sendai.
Daisuke meets us in the parking basement, along with co-workers I can only assume are the ones who were on the conference call. All social graces are deferred until we can make it upstairs, and they will have to be repeated when the two diverging cars arrive anyhow, so they are kept to a minimum even there. I catch an obvious crossing of eye contact between Miki and one of the partners, but I’m unable to discern whether it means ‘you did it again,’ or ‘thanks for the business’. We sit and sip at cups of coffee until our last two drivers arrive.
“I’m pretty sure they’re on to us,” says the last arrival. “I shook off the Prius, but they must have had reinforcements ready. I couldn’t identify who was or was not following me in city traffic, so I may have just led them straight to us.” He hands the keys over to Miki, who hands her keys to their rightful owner, and so on until we all have our own, as we all get introduced. Three partners, two of them Muramoto brothers. This must be a big deal even for them.
“Right,” says the apparently older brother, “we’ve prepared for that. Everyone in this office who drove this morning will be joining our escort team. Let them follow us if they want. They’ll have to get past our rolling roadblock.”
“Where exactly are we taking her?” I nod in Mira’s direction.
“The only place we know we can get sponsorship,” says Daisuke. “I’ve already reached your boss, and she said ‘yeah, whatever’ to the notion, so it’s the Australian consulate for her. Besides, you said she speaks some English, right? Best we send her somewhere she at least sort of speaks the language.”
I think she’ll have as hard a time with Bogan English as with a completely new language, just as I did, but he does have a point. At least there will be some people there willing to straighten themselves up and speak comprehensibly. She also won’t look out of place, and if she can’t find work, there’s always room for another jillaroo down there.
Mira is happy to accept a fresh set of clothes, but cries while her hair is dyed to a muddy brown. Even with Miki holding her hand, she seems devastated by this, or perhaps it’s knowing that she’ll soon be shipped out of the country. She’s getting what she wanted, but apparently hadn’t realized the cost. Once we get Mira straightened up, and in substantially different makeup as an added bonus, she could almost pass for Southeast Asian, at least from a distance. That should help with our campaign of confusion.
“Are we ready?” The elder Muramoto brother looks and sounds eager to go. “They know we’re coming.”
Once under the building at the parking level, we scatter to our respective vehicles. There are multiple sounds of slamming doors, then the faint sounds of some sort of struggle. Miki bursts out of the 750i, her hand and forearm covered in blood, and sprints across the structure. She is chased by a man in a black suit, who is also covered in blood.
Daisuke takes a perfect intercepting angle and tackles the suited man on the dead run, and soon all of us except Mira and her immediate handlers have arrived to greet him, as he presses his nearly severed ear to the side of his head.
“How come nobody spotted him, wherever he was hiding?” Daisuke demands to know, giving everyone equally damning glances.
“He was…” Miki blurts out between gasps for air, “...hiding in… the back seat! He tried…” She clutches at her own throat. Nobody asks where the bloody knife in the car came from. I already know, because I put it there – not yet bloody, of course – and the attorneys don’t want to know.
We leave our new guest with some other staffers and make it to the consulate without further incident – short one vehicle and its driver, who remains behind to get cleaned up and give a report – although we were conspicuously followed. They were just powerless to stop our ‘rolling roadblock’. That doesn’t mean this is over, though. By all indications, we’ll be seeing them again, and probably sooner rather than later. Our rented mooks are not off duty just yet.
‘Dumping bodies’ may not be a joke for very much longer.
***
“You want to what?” I stare at Miura in her white bathrobe, hair still damp from the shower. “Not three hours ago, a Russian gangster tried to kill you and you damn near cut off his ear. Now you want to go dancing?”
“No, not exactly. Conflict – and I suppose near-death experiences as well – leave me all worked up. I want to go to a dance club, pick someone up, and shag until neither of us can walk! Is that really so hard to believe?”
“No, from you I suppose it isn’t. Fine, if that’s what you want, call someone, but you can’t leave. It will take all night for the cleaners to get the blood out of the seats even if it was safe to go back to the city, which it most definitely is not!” I don’t have to like you, but I did promise to try to keep you from getting killed.
Her first time, she chooses poorly – Kenta. Whatever he said to her proposition, she responds with “That could be arranged,” before disconnecting in a huff. Her second call must go to voice mail. “I’d have better luck ordering a pizza and answering the door naked,” she muses. “I wonder what your boy is doing.”
Oh, you did not just go there. “If you try anything on him, Russians will be the least of your problems. I steered him toward that mop-haired friend of yours to keep him out of Sally’s clutches, and there’s no bloody chance I’ll let you corrupt him!”
“Dude, chill.” This gets a glare out of me. “He already had that chance, and didn’t take it. But you did just give me an idea.” She dials again, to another familiar face.
“Junpei, you gaylord! Your horse is getting lonely out here. … Okay, your father’s horse. I don’t care, that wasn’t the point. Point was, we haven’t seen you in a while. … No, she’s still in South America, surfing the Amazon or some dumb shit like that. I didn’t call you to talk about horses though. The horse may or may not be lonely, but that was never my point. I am.” She smiles as he babbles. “Yes, yes I am. Dead serious. ... That will do.”
Turning to me, she asks, “Is it too dangerous to take the Fit out to pick him up? I’ll take one of the mooks with me if it makes you feel any better.”
I’m sorry, Sally. You stressed the importance of keeping her alive. I think that takes precedence over the purity of your former bedwarmer. “That would make me feel quite a lot better, but do you have to go yourself?”
“Do you think he’s going to get in a car with a tattooed stranger at the wheel?” She has a point.
We interrupt the Wii time of two of our ‘guests’, and they work something out between them. Soon she’s back on the road, with muscle at her shoulder.
The day Sally ‘retires’ will be quite a traumatic one for Sendai. Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) New Day for Jay
MARIKO
“I should probably take this,” Kenta tells me as his phone continues to sing. “It’s the Moron.” He bumps the table slightly as he stands, but it should not be enough to move any stones around the board.
“What did you do this time?” he asks, rather than offering the usual ‘Hello’. After a moment, he snorts and responds. “I’m playing a game with a friend, why?” Now I can hear him kicking at the rug. “You’ve got some nerve to ask me that. I’d rather be sodomized with a rusty chainsaw.” There’s a beep. “She hung up on me. Have a nice life, Miura. I doubt it will be a long one.”
Once he takes his seat and his breathing slows down, I have to know. “Just what did she ask that warranted that response?”
His two-beat laugh does not sound very joyous. “She said ‘I forgive you. Wanna give it another try?’ Can you believe that? She forgives me! Ego the size of Gojira, I tell you.”
“No wonder you and Neko alike call her the Moron. It’s your turn, and in case you forgot, this was my last play.” I pick up a stone and set it back down with a slight click.
“I had forgotten, actually. I was just a little bit distracted. Umm, F twelve.”
“Are you sure?” I reach to check that he got the coordinate correct. “That lets me put your group in Atari with my next play.”
“I, uh… shit. I told you I was distracted. Let it stand.”
I place my stone, and as I expected, he extends the ladder in response. Oh well, this is how people learn not to fight the inevitable. By the time we near the side a dozen or so moves later, he realizes the futility of defending his position.
“Now I see what you were trying to warn me about.” He plays elsewhere.
I give the new area a quick examination to see if this poses any imminent threat before closing the loop and capturing his group. “Experience isn’t just the best teacher. Ultimately, it’s the only teacher. You won’t remember these things until you forget them a few times.”
“It still hurts, losing by my own stupidity. I mean it could be a lot worse, but I like to think I’m a quick study.”
“You’d best get used to it. If your ranking is up to date, and your opponent’s is as well, you should lose almost exactly half the games you play.” We agreed on six handicap stones, but I suspected that would not prove sufficient. At least now we know. “Besides, maybe I’ll make a blunder myself and you’ll come charging back. It’s been known to happen.”
“I reckon I’d have to borrow a bottle of wine – all of it for you – before that would be likely.” I hear the click of his stone, and get my legs under me as he counts off the coordinates. “A th…” is all he manages to get out before I home in on the sound of his voice and lean forward to plant a kiss on him, turning his announcement into a mumble. After a second or two of initial shock, he throws an arm around me and kisses back quite enthusiastically.
“See, I can generate my own distractions,” I say once we break away. I can feel the heat rising into my face.
“Mmm.” I can hear him pick up my bowl of stones and place it on the board, to mark that it is my turn to play. “I’m not quite sure I got the message. Better send it again just in case.”
“I should probably take this,” Kenta tells me as his phone continues to sing. “It’s the Moron.” He bumps the table slightly as he stands, but it should not be enough to move any stones around the board.
“What did you do this time?” he asks, rather than offering the usual ‘Hello’. After a moment, he snorts and responds. “I’m playing a game with a friend, why?” Now I can hear him kicking at the rug. “You’ve got some nerve to ask me that. I’d rather be sodomized with a rusty chainsaw.” There’s a beep. “She hung up on me. Have a nice life, Miura. I doubt it will be a long one.”
Once he takes his seat and his breathing slows down, I have to know. “Just what did she ask that warranted that response?”
His two-beat laugh does not sound very joyous. “She said ‘I forgive you. Wanna give it another try?’ Can you believe that? She forgives me! Ego the size of Gojira, I tell you.”
“No wonder you and Neko alike call her the Moron. It’s your turn, and in case you forgot, this was my last play.” I pick up a stone and set it back down with a slight click.
“I had forgotten, actually. I was just a little bit distracted. Umm, F twelve.”
“Are you sure?” I reach to check that he got the coordinate correct. “That lets me put your group in Atari with my next play.”
“I, uh… shit. I told you I was distracted. Let it stand.”
I place my stone, and as I expected, he extends the ladder in response. Oh well, this is how people learn not to fight the inevitable. By the time we near the side a dozen or so moves later, he realizes the futility of defending his position.
“Now I see what you were trying to warn me about.” He plays elsewhere.
I give the new area a quick examination to see if this poses any imminent threat before closing the loop and capturing his group. “Experience isn’t just the best teacher. Ultimately, it’s the only teacher. You won’t remember these things until you forget them a few times.”
“It still hurts, losing by my own stupidity. I mean it could be a lot worse, but I like to think I’m a quick study.”
“You’d best get used to it. If your ranking is up to date, and your opponent’s is as well, you should lose almost exactly half the games you play.” We agreed on six handicap stones, but I suspected that would not prove sufficient. At least now we know. “Besides, maybe I’ll make a blunder myself and you’ll come charging back. It’s been known to happen.”
“I reckon I’d have to borrow a bottle of wine – all of it for you – before that would be likely.” I hear the click of his stone, and get my legs under me as he counts off the coordinates. “A th…” is all he manages to get out before I home in on the sound of his voice and lean forward to plant a kiss on him, turning his announcement into a mumble. After a second or two of initial shock, he throws an arm around me and kisses back quite enthusiastically.
“See, I can generate my own distractions,” I say once we break away. I can feel the heat rising into my face.
“Mmm.” I can hear him pick up my bowl of stones and place it on the board, to mark that it is my turn to play. “I’m not quite sure I got the message. Better send it again just in case.”
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Hisao Goes Down
IWANAKO
Don’t do this, Hisao. You’re not my shield. But before I can reach out to stop him, he has already hopped to his feet.
“I can’t believe I ever considered you my friend,” he hisses at our tormentor. “Were you always a dick, or did you have to study?”
“At least I’m not washed up before I ever got started,” the taller boy responds. “Eighteen and already over the hill. I bet you can’t even get it up, and your girl there is still a virgin.” He turns toward me. “Come on, I’ll show you what it means to go for a ride.”
“This is between you and me now. Leave her out of it. She didn’t do anything to you, and she sure as shit didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Tall Boy slowly swivels his head back toward Hisao. “If you say so.” His punch catches Hisao completely by surprise, square in the rib cage, causing immediate collapse. He has time to get in a kick to the head as well, and is winding up for a second when I catch him with a shoulder to shoulder tackle.
Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for us, I was taught to take the fight to the ground as quickly as possible, and that there are no rules other than protecting me and mine. I raise a fist and take aim at his jaw, causing him to reflexively raise his hands in preparation. I use the opening to knee him in the crotch twice, and spring to my feet to check on Hisao, who lies bleeding from the nose and gasping for breath, clutching his chest.
In the five seconds or so it took for this to unfold, we’ve gathered about half a dozen busybodies who stopped to watch. One has a phone in her hand. “Are you going to stand there and take notes, or are you going to call for help?” I manage to sputter at her at something slightly less than a blood-curdling scream. This shakes her into action, and she pokes at her phone.
Meanwhile, a glance at our assailant shows him pinned to the ground by a man in his thirties with rockabilly hair and a leather jacket. Normally I would steer clear of such guys, but in this case I’m glad to see him. I turn my attention back to Hisao, who has managed to rise to one elbow. “No, stay down. The fight is over.”
He nods and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, wincing on contact. “I dink iss broken.”
“Quite possibly, let me look. I promise not to touch.” I move his hand away and search for a sign that his nose is off-center, but I can’t be sure one way or the other through the swelling that is already present.
I can hear sirens coming, both medics and police, converging from opposite directions. I expect rockabilly man to slip away into the crowd, but he does not. He remains until the first responders arrive, which turn out to be the medics. He bows ever so slightly toward me as he makes his escape.
“Alright, what happened here?” asks the first medic, already unpacking his kit.
“My friend here took a punch to the chest and a boot to the face, and has a history of heart problems. You probably want to get him on a monitor first thing.”
“And him?”
“Oh. I must have landed on him funny when I tackled him.” He’s still barely capable of coughing, let alone coherent speech, and can do little more than glare at me.
Spending the bulk of a Saturday in a hospital, giving reports to the police, is not what we were looking forward to, but all things considered, it could have gone a lot worse. By the time his parents get to the hospital, his nose has already been set and braced, and he has been cleared of any major heart irregularities. Apparently there are some points in the cardiac cycle when he is exceptionally vulnerable, and others when he is not. He got lucky this time.
This experiment is over, and with it, my time in this city. I want to say I’ll miss it, but I’d be lying.
Don’t do this, Hisao. You’re not my shield. But before I can reach out to stop him, he has already hopped to his feet.
“I can’t believe I ever considered you my friend,” he hisses at our tormentor. “Were you always a dick, or did you have to study?”
“At least I’m not washed up before I ever got started,” the taller boy responds. “Eighteen and already over the hill. I bet you can’t even get it up, and your girl there is still a virgin.” He turns toward me. “Come on, I’ll show you what it means to go for a ride.”
“This is between you and me now. Leave her out of it. She didn’t do anything to you, and she sure as shit didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Tall Boy slowly swivels his head back toward Hisao. “If you say so.” His punch catches Hisao completely by surprise, square in the rib cage, causing immediate collapse. He has time to get in a kick to the head as well, and is winding up for a second when I catch him with a shoulder to shoulder tackle.
Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for us, I was taught to take the fight to the ground as quickly as possible, and that there are no rules other than protecting me and mine. I raise a fist and take aim at his jaw, causing him to reflexively raise his hands in preparation. I use the opening to knee him in the crotch twice, and spring to my feet to check on Hisao, who lies bleeding from the nose and gasping for breath, clutching his chest.
In the five seconds or so it took for this to unfold, we’ve gathered about half a dozen busybodies who stopped to watch. One has a phone in her hand. “Are you going to stand there and take notes, or are you going to call for help?” I manage to sputter at her at something slightly less than a blood-curdling scream. This shakes her into action, and she pokes at her phone.
Meanwhile, a glance at our assailant shows him pinned to the ground by a man in his thirties with rockabilly hair and a leather jacket. Normally I would steer clear of such guys, but in this case I’m glad to see him. I turn my attention back to Hisao, who has managed to rise to one elbow. “No, stay down. The fight is over.”
He nods and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, wincing on contact. “I dink iss broken.”
“Quite possibly, let me look. I promise not to touch.” I move his hand away and search for a sign that his nose is off-center, but I can’t be sure one way or the other through the swelling that is already present.
I can hear sirens coming, both medics and police, converging from opposite directions. I expect rockabilly man to slip away into the crowd, but he does not. He remains until the first responders arrive, which turn out to be the medics. He bows ever so slightly toward me as he makes his escape.
“Alright, what happened here?” asks the first medic, already unpacking his kit.
“My friend here took a punch to the chest and a boot to the face, and has a history of heart problems. You probably want to get him on a monitor first thing.”
“And him?”
“Oh. I must have landed on him funny when I tackled him.” He’s still barely capable of coughing, let alone coherent speech, and can do little more than glare at me.
Spending the bulk of a Saturday in a hospital, giving reports to the police, is not what we were looking forward to, but all things considered, it could have gone a lot worse. By the time his parents get to the hospital, his nose has already been set and braced, and he has been cleared of any major heart irregularities. Apparently there are some points in the cardiac cycle when he is exceptionally vulnerable, and others when he is not. He got lucky this time.
This experiment is over, and with it, my time in this city. I want to say I’ll miss it, but I’d be lying.
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) Soaking In It
NURSE
Houston, we have a problem.
“Emi,” Daisuke tries to politely interject, “that was intended for loosening your throat, not for soaking yourself in.”
She takes another nip off the flask as we walk through the cemetery. “What the fuck do you know about what I need right now?” she asks bitterly. The flask is too small to incapacitate a normal adult, but this is Emi we’re talking about.
“Have respect for the dead,” chides Meiko. “I’m sure they don’t need to hear your cursing.”
“As if.” She waves at the headstones, then holds her hand to her ear. “I don’t hear them complaining.” She picks up the pace, and we let her get away from us. This is obviously more difficult than she was letting on.
Daisuke drags his portable PA system over the cobblestones, the plastic tarpaulin fluttering in the moderate breeze, while also wearing his guitar on his back. He looks more tired than anyone else in the group, as if it were he, and not Emi and Meiko, who had been through this ritual year in and year out. I give him a glance, and can read that he already knows what he’s bought into.
«Her eyes so sweetly gaze
Her aura's halo ablaze
But inside her anger no men should tread
It's bound to kill you upon your burning bed.»
When we catch up, Emi is already clearing away the debris and slightly overgrown grass, and making a show of presenting her bouquet of flowers. We give her a reasonable distance until she is done, then Meiko moves in to do the same as Emi retreats to give her space. Out comes the flask again.
Then, it is time to do what we dragged this equipment out here for. It takes but a few minutes to get things set up and safely tucked under a golf umbrella – safe from light rain, at least. After a very brief warm-up and another nip off the flask (properly gargled this time before swallowing), Emi is as ready as she’ll ever be.
“Let’s fucking do this,” she declares, and Daisuke launches into the introduction of his song.
Turning the pages of old photographs
I whisper thanks to each and every one
Deep in my heart you have come, come to live
Sure as the sun to see me through
Come rain or shine however the day may be
You shelter me with your smile
However far your memories may fade
Traces of you I hope to find
Then you appear and I drown in my own tears
Technically, the performance is not particularly impressive. It is better than I expected from the source, but still somewhat painful in places. The sincerity of the delivery dominates, however, and it is difficult not to buy into what she’s singing. By the end of the song, a light mist has begun to fall, and all of us are glad she is closing by the time this arrives.
Missing you so I'm missing you so
You're on my mind as I drown in my own tears
Daisuke proceeds to shut down and pack up the gear as fast as he can, and Emi starts back the way we came without another word. Draining the remainder of the flask along the way, she deposits it along the side and never looks back.
«But now she's yours brother remember what I say
When the eyes get glassy then it's time to pray.
Oh yeah! You best get out of her way,
Oh yeah! Now it's time to pray.»
Houston, we have a problem.
“Emi,” Daisuke tries to politely interject, “that was intended for loosening your throat, not for soaking yourself in.”
She takes another nip off the flask as we walk through the cemetery. “What the fuck do you know about what I need right now?” she asks bitterly. The flask is too small to incapacitate a normal adult, but this is Emi we’re talking about.
“Have respect for the dead,” chides Meiko. “I’m sure they don’t need to hear your cursing.”
“As if.” She waves at the headstones, then holds her hand to her ear. “I don’t hear them complaining.” She picks up the pace, and we let her get away from us. This is obviously more difficult than she was letting on.
Daisuke drags his portable PA system over the cobblestones, the plastic tarpaulin fluttering in the moderate breeze, while also wearing his guitar on his back. He looks more tired than anyone else in the group, as if it were he, and not Emi and Meiko, who had been through this ritual year in and year out. I give him a glance, and can read that he already knows what he’s bought into.
«Her eyes so sweetly gaze
Her aura's halo ablaze
But inside her anger no men should tread
It's bound to kill you upon your burning bed.»
When we catch up, Emi is already clearing away the debris and slightly overgrown grass, and making a show of presenting her bouquet of flowers. We give her a reasonable distance until she is done, then Meiko moves in to do the same as Emi retreats to give her space. Out comes the flask again.
Then, it is time to do what we dragged this equipment out here for. It takes but a few minutes to get things set up and safely tucked under a golf umbrella – safe from light rain, at least. After a very brief warm-up and another nip off the flask (properly gargled this time before swallowing), Emi is as ready as she’ll ever be.
“Let’s fucking do this,” she declares, and Daisuke launches into the introduction of his song.
Turning the pages of old photographs
I whisper thanks to each and every one
Deep in my heart you have come, come to live
Sure as the sun to see me through
Come rain or shine however the day may be
You shelter me with your smile
However far your memories may fade
Traces of you I hope to find
Then you appear and I drown in my own tears
Technically, the performance is not particularly impressive. It is better than I expected from the source, but still somewhat painful in places. The sincerity of the delivery dominates, however, and it is difficult not to buy into what she’s singing. By the end of the song, a light mist has begun to fall, and all of us are glad she is closing by the time this arrives.
Missing you so I'm missing you so
You're on my mind as I drown in my own tears
Daisuke proceeds to shut down and pack up the gear as fast as he can, and Emi starts back the way we came without another word. Draining the remainder of the flask along the way, she deposits it along the side and never looks back.
«But now she's yours brother remember what I say
When the eyes get glassy then it's time to pray.
Oh yeah! You best get out of her way,
Oh yeah! Now it's time to pray.»
Re: "Three Of A Perfect Pair" (Neko Bk2) COMPLETION
NEKO
“Are you ready, love?” I knock a bit louder. Mariko has a tendency to oversleep, so I came around about ten minutes early just in case. I’m glad for the late start to our plans, having been up much of the night myself worrying about a fragile boyfriend who ended up with a mere broken nose – not that this is insignificant, but any time I hear ‘Hisao’ and ‘hospital’ in the same sentence, I’m imagining the worst.
I hear shuffling inside, so I settle in to wait. When the door opens, Mariko is presentable but not quite ready. “Say,” she asks me, “did you already buy train passes for the day?”
“No, not as such. Why?”
“Because I think I can arrange a ride, if you don’t mind some company.”
“Oh?” I ask. “That depends who it is, I guess.”
“Just me,” replies Kenta’s unseen voice. “I guess the surf was not great today.”
I lean in close to Mariko. “Did he stay here all night?”
She shakes her head no. “His place is much more comfortable,” she whispers back.
And I was supposed to be keeping you out of trouble.
All things considered, it’s probably for the best we stay out of central Sendai as much as possible anyhow – or rather, that I stay out. I may not stick out of a crowd the way Lilly does, but I’m sure the Russians wouldn’t mind getting their hands on me, and I’m not as handy with a knife as Miki. I’m also nowhere near as fast.
“You know, this sounds like a plan.” Sure feels odd to be the one without a date, though.
It really does beat catching a bus into town, then a train to Natori. It seems we’ll there in less than half the time, without ever facing a soaking from the brief bouts of light to moderate rain that come our way. ‘Free car wash!’ cheers Kenta with each little squall.
“You know,” I quip from the back seat, “it’s generally considered socially acceptable to ask girls to wash your car in exchange for rides. Requesting bikinis might be a bit over the line.”
Kenta takes a moment to chew on his reply. “You know, for a friend of Miki’s, you’re alright.”
“I could say the same about you. Besides, I think I’m firmly in the former friend camp. She sure doesn’t seem to miss me.”
“Likewise.” He drives on in silence for a while. “I heard things are pretty serious back at your house right about now, mostly or completely because of her. I didn’t want to intrude if I wasn’t wanted, but I figured you could use a little backup.”
“You heard correctly. We’ve even discussed the notion that she, I, or both might have to leave the country for a while, until things settle down.” I can hear Mariko gasp at this revelation. “No offense to you, Mariko, but it would have been a whole lot simpler if Moron had just kept her original date as promised. I’d gladly play matchmaker for you two if it meant I could have my house back.”
“Have you ever considered not having stupid friends?” he asks me. “It would save you so much trouble.”
“I didn’t know she was at the time. Once I had figured it out, my Mum had already latched on to her. Then came the little incident with Suzu and the crystal m– umm, never mind. You didn’t hear that from me.” Fuck. I catch the long backward glance in the mirror that says ‘this has not been forgotten’.
I keep my big mouth shut the rest of the way, since he already knows where we’re going – possibly better than I do. Apparently we’re headed for the same beach his brother visited yesterday. It wasn’t my original target, but walking distance from the subway is no longer a concern, and he knows from experience that we can rent a bicycle.
When we do arrive, the sky is once again threatening rain. It appears it’s just going to trickle on us at various points and we just have to live with it. Although the lot is not particularly crowded, there is still a bit of ground to cover to get to the beach proper.
“Sorry about the weather, love,” I apologize to Mariko. “I’d like to have picked a sunnier day for this trip, but it’s the last one we have. The boy with a busted nose will be back tomorrow.”
“No big deal, it’s not like I would go in the water anyhow. Not on purpose, at least. I’m as likely to swim away from the shore as toward it.”
“I suppose that would be a problem,” Kenta adds. “At least in a pool you can pick a direction, any direction, and know you’ll hit a side eventually.”
I take the chance to point out the obvious. “Any direction but down, in any case. I think we both know that when it comes to finding which way is up while tumbling underwater, eyes aren’t all that helpful.”
“Eh, Kaz is more of an expert on that than I am. He’s the one breaking the nose off his surfboard every other week. I’ve learned to detest the odor of fiberglass resin. It must be like owning an Italian motorcycle, spending more time maintaining it than riding it.” He has walked us straight to the stand renting bicycles. “I hope this ride is more reliable.”
“It should be, it’s going to have two engines,” I answer with a grin. Turning to the attendant, I ask for the tandem bike – at least for the moment, they only have one available. He nods and grabs two helmets, handing them to me and to Kenta. Kenta promptly places his on Mariko’s head, where it sinks down to her eyebrows.
“Uh, yeah, let me get you a smaller one,” says the attendant as he holds out his hand to retrieve the oversized helmet. He also balks at my use of a school ID to secure the transaction, until I back it up with a matching credit card. I don’t give him a chance to notice or object to my arm, or lack thereof. With the limited selection of tandems, asking for one with the cables crossed is not an option. We’ll just have to not go very fast.
We get Mariko secured in the replacement helmet, and Kenta helpfully stabilizes the bike as I get her seated. I’m not entirely sure how I intended to do that by myself. He also keeps it steady as I explain the minimal signal calling.
“Pedal when I say ‘go,’ or when you feel me start, and stop if I stop. Other than that, just have fun. Your handlebars don’t turn, and there’s no way I could signal how to lean, so don’t. Just try to keep in balance.” I get a nod and a smile in response, then it’s time to climb aboard myself. “Oh, one last thing,” I throw in as a joke. “If you hear me scream, assume crash position.”
“Wh-what’s crash position?”
“Tuck your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye.”
“Hey, hey!” Kenta frowns at me as Mariko fidgets. “This isn’t going to be a race or anything, is it?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I need to remember that Mariko is still not completely comfortable with my deadpan humour.
With the formalities out of the way, we’re off. We head down the bike path, and I test the brakes once we work up a bit of steam before circling back at the first opportunity. It’s not like we’re on a sightseeing trip, so we don’t need to go very far.
Coming back, Kenta starts to wave as we pass before sheepishly realizing the futility of the gesture. Mariko can’t see him, and I can’t respond. Instead, he pulls out his phone and starts taking pictures. On our next pass, he’s cheerleading for us, most likely to the confusion of spectators. Over the wind noise, I can barely hear Mariko squealing behind me.
On the fourth pass, the cheerleading has turned to some sort of semaphore, so I scan the path ahead more carefully but see nothing alarming – until a yellow kite suddenly appears directly in my face. I reflexively swerve to avoid it, and brake simultaneously. There is a split second of sickening dread as I realize that this was exactly the wrong thing to do. As I take a header over the bars, I give Mariko the only warning possible.
I scream.
“Are you ready, love?” I knock a bit louder. Mariko has a tendency to oversleep, so I came around about ten minutes early just in case. I’m glad for the late start to our plans, having been up much of the night myself worrying about a fragile boyfriend who ended up with a mere broken nose – not that this is insignificant, but any time I hear ‘Hisao’ and ‘hospital’ in the same sentence, I’m imagining the worst.
I hear shuffling inside, so I settle in to wait. When the door opens, Mariko is presentable but not quite ready. “Say,” she asks me, “did you already buy train passes for the day?”
“No, not as such. Why?”
“Because I think I can arrange a ride, if you don’t mind some company.”
“Oh?” I ask. “That depends who it is, I guess.”
“Just me,” replies Kenta’s unseen voice. “I guess the surf was not great today.”
I lean in close to Mariko. “Did he stay here all night?”
She shakes her head no. “His place is much more comfortable,” she whispers back.
And I was supposed to be keeping you out of trouble.
All things considered, it’s probably for the best we stay out of central Sendai as much as possible anyhow – or rather, that I stay out. I may not stick out of a crowd the way Lilly does, but I’m sure the Russians wouldn’t mind getting their hands on me, and I’m not as handy with a knife as Miki. I’m also nowhere near as fast.
“You know, this sounds like a plan.” Sure feels odd to be the one without a date, though.
It really does beat catching a bus into town, then a train to Natori. It seems we’ll there in less than half the time, without ever facing a soaking from the brief bouts of light to moderate rain that come our way. ‘Free car wash!’ cheers Kenta with each little squall.
“You know,” I quip from the back seat, “it’s generally considered socially acceptable to ask girls to wash your car in exchange for rides. Requesting bikinis might be a bit over the line.”
Kenta takes a moment to chew on his reply. “You know, for a friend of Miki’s, you’re alright.”
“I could say the same about you. Besides, I think I’m firmly in the former friend camp. She sure doesn’t seem to miss me.”
“Likewise.” He drives on in silence for a while. “I heard things are pretty serious back at your house right about now, mostly or completely because of her. I didn’t want to intrude if I wasn’t wanted, but I figured you could use a little backup.”
“You heard correctly. We’ve even discussed the notion that she, I, or both might have to leave the country for a while, until things settle down.” I can hear Mariko gasp at this revelation. “No offense to you, Mariko, but it would have been a whole lot simpler if Moron had just kept her original date as promised. I’d gladly play matchmaker for you two if it meant I could have my house back.”
“Have you ever considered not having stupid friends?” he asks me. “It would save you so much trouble.”
“I didn’t know she was at the time. Once I had figured it out, my Mum had already latched on to her. Then came the little incident with Suzu and the crystal m– umm, never mind. You didn’t hear that from me.” Fuck. I catch the long backward glance in the mirror that says ‘this has not been forgotten’.
I keep my big mouth shut the rest of the way, since he already knows where we’re going – possibly better than I do. Apparently we’re headed for the same beach his brother visited yesterday. It wasn’t my original target, but walking distance from the subway is no longer a concern, and he knows from experience that we can rent a bicycle.
When we do arrive, the sky is once again threatening rain. It appears it’s just going to trickle on us at various points and we just have to live with it. Although the lot is not particularly crowded, there is still a bit of ground to cover to get to the beach proper.
“Sorry about the weather, love,” I apologize to Mariko. “I’d like to have picked a sunnier day for this trip, but it’s the last one we have. The boy with a busted nose will be back tomorrow.”
“No big deal, it’s not like I would go in the water anyhow. Not on purpose, at least. I’m as likely to swim away from the shore as toward it.”
“I suppose that would be a problem,” Kenta adds. “At least in a pool you can pick a direction, any direction, and know you’ll hit a side eventually.”
I take the chance to point out the obvious. “Any direction but down, in any case. I think we both know that when it comes to finding which way is up while tumbling underwater, eyes aren’t all that helpful.”
“Eh, Kaz is more of an expert on that than I am. He’s the one breaking the nose off his surfboard every other week. I’ve learned to detest the odor of fiberglass resin. It must be like owning an Italian motorcycle, spending more time maintaining it than riding it.” He has walked us straight to the stand renting bicycles. “I hope this ride is more reliable.”
“It should be, it’s going to have two engines,” I answer with a grin. Turning to the attendant, I ask for the tandem bike – at least for the moment, they only have one available. He nods and grabs two helmets, handing them to me and to Kenta. Kenta promptly places his on Mariko’s head, where it sinks down to her eyebrows.
“Uh, yeah, let me get you a smaller one,” says the attendant as he holds out his hand to retrieve the oversized helmet. He also balks at my use of a school ID to secure the transaction, until I back it up with a matching credit card. I don’t give him a chance to notice or object to my arm, or lack thereof. With the limited selection of tandems, asking for one with the cables crossed is not an option. We’ll just have to not go very fast.
We get Mariko secured in the replacement helmet, and Kenta helpfully stabilizes the bike as I get her seated. I’m not entirely sure how I intended to do that by myself. He also keeps it steady as I explain the minimal signal calling.
“Pedal when I say ‘go,’ or when you feel me start, and stop if I stop. Other than that, just have fun. Your handlebars don’t turn, and there’s no way I could signal how to lean, so don’t. Just try to keep in balance.” I get a nod and a smile in response, then it’s time to climb aboard myself. “Oh, one last thing,” I throw in as a joke. “If you hear me scream, assume crash position.”
“Wh-what’s crash position?”
“Tuck your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye.”
“Hey, hey!” Kenta frowns at me as Mariko fidgets. “This isn’t going to be a race or anything, is it?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I need to remember that Mariko is still not completely comfortable with my deadpan humour.
With the formalities out of the way, we’re off. We head down the bike path, and I test the brakes once we work up a bit of steam before circling back at the first opportunity. It’s not like we’re on a sightseeing trip, so we don’t need to go very far.
Coming back, Kenta starts to wave as we pass before sheepishly realizing the futility of the gesture. Mariko can’t see him, and I can’t respond. Instead, he pulls out his phone and starts taking pictures. On our next pass, he’s cheerleading for us, most likely to the confusion of spectators. Over the wind noise, I can barely hear Mariko squealing behind me.
On the fourth pass, the cheerleading has turned to some sort of semaphore, so I scan the path ahead more carefully but see nothing alarming – until a yellow kite suddenly appears directly in my face. I reflexively swerve to avoid it, and brake simultaneously. There is a split second of sickening dread as I realize that this was exactly the wrong thing to do. As I take a header over the bars, I give Mariko the only warning possible.
I scream.