Tokyo Demons Book 1: Chapter 3

‬ “Paging Dr. Wakamiya. Dr. Wakamiya, you’re needed in post-op.”

Ayase stared at the ceiling of the ER, the chattering of people and the ringing of phones turning to inoffensive white noise in her ears. Her hands, resting on the hand rests of her chair, still shook slightly.

She curled those hands into fists and closed her eyes.

She was an idiot. Of all the times to freak out, of all the times to go falling down a flight of stairs, her overactive imagination had chosen to send her over the edge when being calm and reasonable was more important than anything. Her freak-out had not only put her at risk, but it might have even put Sachi and the school nurse–who sat in a nearby chair and read a magazine–at risk as well. Ayase considered it a miracle that they’d left the school without being tailed. She’d stared out the back of the cab the entire way to make sure.

“Ayase?”

Ayase opened her eyes and glanced at Sachi. He flipped his cell phone shut and let out a breath.

“At least we got through to Kiyoshi. Jo’s a tough guy–I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Ayase couldn’t stand his sympathetic gaze. Mortified, she looked away.

“Hey.” His hand gently rested on top of hers. “It’s okay.”

Her instinct was to pull away, but after he’d used his jacket to stop her bleeding, she knew how unfair it would be to reject his kindness. It frayed her already-frayed nerves a bit more, but she didn’t move from his touch.

Sachi gave her a small smile. “Really,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I was flipping out, too. I swear, I’m gonna have complete faith in the police from now on.”

That makes one of us.

Before the nurse had taken Ayase and Sachi to the hospital, the principal had made an announcement that the trespasser was a hoax. Detective Nakajima had called Sachi personally right after that, saying that she had apprehended the thug from the club on school grounds, but that they needed to keep that bit of information “to themselves.” Nakajima had assured Sachi that he and his friends no longer had anything to worry about.

But Ayase didn’t believe it. Keeping the capture of a criminal under wraps struck her as suspicious; Ayase still considered the woman a potential threat. Ayase hadn’t abandoned her theory of the thug and the cops being in cahoots–or that, regardless of whether or not he had an in with the police, the thug had told them about her being able to turn into insects. She still thought the lot of them could be plotting her capture at that very moment.

Her brain had spun the possibilities around until she felt sick. Now she just sat, emotionally exhausted, personally disgusted, and resigned to her fate–whatever that ended up being. There was nothing she could do now. She needed stitches in her arm, and the school nurse and Sachi wouldn’t leave her alone until that happened.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, pulling from Sachi’s hand. She lurched to her feet.

“Do you need something?”

Ayase sighed. “Bathroom,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t forget where we’re sitting,” the school nurse commented without looking up from her magazine. “And don’t get your bandage wet.”

Ayase plodded off, her eyes locked on the floor. Her fingers went to the bandaged gash on her arm, but she vaguely remembered she wasn’t supposed to play with it, either. She dropped her hand back to her side.

She eventually reached the bathroom. She pushed open the door, noticed the urinals, then let the door swing back into place. She checked the sign on the wall; the bathroom was co-ed.

Fine, she thought as she pushed open the door again. At least I’m not so out of it I walked into the men’s room. It would be a small humiliation compared to what she’d done that day, but she simply didn’t need anything else to make her feel like a useless, reckless idiot. The one thing that saved her self-esteem was that she’d been coherent enough to keep her body from turning into insects when she’d tumbled down the stairs.

Although that had been why she’d been too distracted to fall properly. Ayase glanced at the bandaged gash on her arm and sighed again.

As usual, she made for the stall farthest from the door. She’d gone two steps toward it when she suddenly noticed something.

Someone was…choking. Maybe. Or was that the sound of vomiting? There was someone in a nearer stall making disturbing gagging noises, and it made her pause.

The voice stopped gagging and instead just panted. A few moments of that, and the stranger started sobbing.

Ayase, for the first time that afternoon, forgot how her life was about to end. Her eyebrows furrowed.

If someone was vomiting, was she supposed to tell someone? They were in a hospital. And yet…now all she heard was that fitful, shaky crying. Did that warrant calling someone? What was proper bathroom etiquette for crying? Even more questionable was the fact that the voice sounded male–would a boy be embarrassed if a girl heard…

Her exhausted brain eventually gave up. She took a long breath and closed her eyes.

Breathe, Ayase.

She opened her eyes again. As if her body was desperate for some sort of distraction, she  looked through the crack in the stall. The boy had left it unlocked, so it was easy to attain a sliver of visibility.

A teenager of about her age was hands and knees in front of the toilet, one hand shakily gripping the porcelain edge. She noticed that he wore the school uniform of her school.

“Are…you okay?” she asked. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken the question until her dazed voice echoed against the bathroom walls.

The boy’s head whipped to her. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and his mussed hair dropped scraggly bangs onto his pale forehead.

To her surprise, Ayase recognized the boy. He was from her homeroom…he sat in the back. She barely recognized him because he was usually asleep in class or staring blankly at a wall.

“Watanabe-san!”

The boy suddenly threw himself at her. He was on his knees, so he was only high enough to grip the bottom of her blouse with both fists. He stared up at her, tears running down his cheeks, and crazily met her dumbfounded eyes.

“Help me!”

Ayase was frozen in place. She had no idea what to do, say, or feel. She couldn’t even remember how to breathe. He gripped her blouse so tightly that it was raised from her waist, and she could feel his hot breath on her navel.

“Paging Dr. Wakamiya. Dr. Wakamiya, you’re needed in post-op.”

The bored announcement over the speaker seemed to snap the boy out of his panic. He suddenly released her like he’d been burned, his lips open and trembling.

“N-no,” the boy suddenly blurted. “I can’t…no. Forget what I said!”

Ayase just stared. You can’t…what? was the only coherent thought she could come up with in her spinning mind.

The boy struggled to his feet, then grabbed her elbow and stumbled out of the stall. Ayase nearly fell as he jerked her out.

He shoved her into the stall farthest from the door. “Stand on the toilet,” he ordered. “Don’t make a sound. He can’t know you’re here.”

Ayase’s lips parted. “Who’s…he?” she breathed.

The boy suddenly released his death grip on her elbow and grabbed her by both shoulders. His hands shook as his reddened eyes bore into hers.

“Don’t tell anybody I was here.” His fingers buried into her shoulders hard enough to start bruises. “Please.”

Ayase nodded slowly, which seemed to be the only thing that would get the boy to let go. He pushed her back toward the toilet before unclawing his fingers from her.

“Hide! Hurry!”

Like a confused but obedient child, Ayase stepped onto the toilet. The boy ran out of the stall and closed the door behind him, sure to leave it open a crack to prove it wasn’t locked.

He’d barely released the handle when the front door to the bathroom squeaked on its hinges.

“Kado-kun,” called a male voice.

Balanced precariously on the toilet, her hands pressed against opposite sides of the stall walls, Ayase suddenly remembered the frantic boy’s name from roll call.

Kadoyuki Yoshimoto.

The man walked slowly across the bathroom, his shoes squeaking quietly on the tile floor. Kadoyuki went silent as death.

The few moments of that man walking across the bathroom felt like they would never end. He finally stopped, with almost deliberate slowness, in front of the stall next to Ayase’s.

“Were you talking to someone in here?”

Ayase stopped breathing. She could hear Kadoyuki’s panting in the silence that followed, but neither he, nor the new man, said anything else.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Ayase swallowed hard, as silently as she could.

“N-no,” Kadoyuki said at last in a near-whisper. His voice wasn’t as desperate as it had been, but she could still hear it quake.

“The doctor wants to see you, Kado-kun.”

She heard the faint rustling of clothing, like the man was reaching out. Ayase’s eyes focused on the man’s shoes. They were leather, and looked expensive…but she recognized the cuff of the pants that fell over them. Whoever had walked in was also wearing the boy’s school uniform of Fukuhashi.

And she thought she recognized that voice. Was that…the guy from the roof? The guy with the gloves?

“It’s okay,” the voice reassured smoothly. “Don’t be afraid.” More rustling of clothing, and then Kadoyuki’s feet stumbled to a walk. The other student followed suit, but only after Kadoyuki passed by.

The two of them exited the bathroom. The sound of the door swinging shut behind them came a moment later, lending a close to the moment that was eerily final.

Ayase didn’t move. She could feel the cold sweat on her temples and hear the deafening sound of blood rushing in her ears. She stood on that toilet for what felt like an eternity. She didn’t know how much time actually passed…but definitely long enough for her to hear several more announcements over the loudspeaker.

I…I have to go, she thought. Sachi’s…waiting for me. Carefully, she lowered one foot to the floor. When she pulled one hand from its position against the wall, she noticed that her hands were trembling uncontrollably.

Ayase swallowed hard.

“Help me!”

She closed her eyes. She swallowed again, this time pushing back bile. She bunched a fist in front of her mouth and tried not to be sick.

“Watanabe-san!”

Ayase had no idea what to do. Not in that bathroom, not back at school, and not in the club. She was completely lost in all aspects of her life–and just a few days ago, she’d just been worried about getting through high school without drawing attention to herself.

Someone had asked for her help. Someone else had asked her for help.

Ayase couldn’t help him. After everything that had happened, she was so lost and so terrified that she couldn’t handle anyone’s problems but her own.

And, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t even sure she could do that.

***************

Jo was feeling better. A lot of the tension melted from his shoulders the minute he left Kiseki and its underground gang hide-out. The subway ride home was almost pleasant. He got off a stop early so he could walk the rest of the way to the school. He could waltz down a busy street in the late afternoon, right? The crazy big guy wouldn’t chase him down–not if he was hiding out from drug lords or whatever.

And now Jo had a gang, albeit a lame one, to provide him with some protection. Jo actually smiled to himself about that.

That reminds me, he thought. I need something white.

It was one of the few gems from Seiya’s mouth that Jo remembered. Since the entire reason Jo had joined them was a public protection statement, his membership was useless if no one could tell he joined.

Jo stopped by a men’s store a few blocks away. He wanted something noticeable, but he wouldn’t be caught dead with anything that made him look like he was in an 80s gang movie. After a bit of deliberation, he bought himself a watch with a white leather wristband. He strapped it on his left wrist, satisfied that it would match even his nicer clothes.

Jo spent the rest of the evening playing video games in the school lounge. When he went to bed, his regained confidence and hard-won relaxation helped him drift off into a comfortable sleep.

It wasn’t until he woke up past 10 am that he realized how exhausted he’d been.

Shit, he thought groggily. He slapped his bedside table, trying to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. So much for school. His hand finally fell on his box of cigarettes; he clutched it and dragged it to his lap. A piece of paper fluttered from the desk and onto his sheets.

He frowned. He lit up a cigarette as he unfolded the small note.

Jo, it read. We were looking for you yesterday. You were asleep when I got in. Sachi wants to talk to you. Are you coming to school today? I can’t wake you up.

The kanji for Kiyoshi’s name was scrawled across the bottom. Jo took a long drag on his cigarette, crumpled up the note, and tossed it back onto his bedside table.

At times like these, Jo was glad he didn’t have a cell phone. He tried to re-imagine the day before, having his guarded conversation with a gang leader while a cell phone went off in his pocket every 30 seconds. The mental image actually made him shudder.

He glanced at his clock again and calculated a normal school day. Fourth period would be starting soon. Since he’d barely had dinner the night before, his stomach was already growling. He’d grab an early lunch…maybe he would even make his afternoon classes.

After a blissfully quiet shower in the empty communal bath, Jo got dressed and headed for the cafeteria. He made it right before the bell, which meant he got first dibs on the food before his savage classmates attacked. He took advantage and bought two of the best stuffed breads their cafeteria seemed to offer.

“No!” someone shouted from behind him. “Not the curry bread!”

Jo contentedly unwrapped the plastic to the sounds of fighting behind him.

The cafeteria had a dingy courtyard with a few benches in it. There was a hidden-away corner of the courtyard that was usually crammed with students trying to squeeze in a hidden smoke. At this hour, there was only one strung-out looking classmate there, so Jo claimed a spot. He ate his first bread and lit up directly after.

He was watching a growing crowd in the cafeteria and debating whether or not to pick pockets in it when the classmate beside him whistled. Jo glanced up, then immediately forgot what he was doing.

The babe from the first day of school was standing over him at the bench, a small smile sending light glancing off her lip gloss. She glanced at the other student and made a kissy face.

“Ken-chan,” she cooed. “Can you get me a tea? The line’s really long at the machine and I’m tired of getting groped.”

The grungy classmate smiled and ground out his cigarette. “With or without sugar, baby?”

“No sugar today, sorry.” She flipped him a 500-yen coin. “But keep the change.”

The classmate looked a little disappointed. He took her coin and departed.

She’s trying to get me alone. Jo’s excellent mood improved even further. He shifted down the bench so she had room to sit down.

“Can I trouble you?” she asked.

Jo held out his box of cigarettes. “You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” She leaned in to the light he offered her. She took a long drag, released. She smiled around the stick. “It helps me keep my figure.”

Jo couldn’t help but enjoy the number of school-endorsed moral choices this girl had spurned in 30 seconds. What could he say? It was a turn-on.

She took another drag and leaned back against the bench. Jo noticed her glitzy nails. “Nice manicure,” he commented.

She held out a hand so he could get a better look. They were the perfect excuse to touch her. He gently pulled her hand closer.

To Jo’s surprise, that lovely palm was rough with calluses.

“Where did you get these done?” he asked as he tilted her fingers. Her false nails were painted with a golden glitter and adorned with tiny suns.

“A salon nearby, actually. It’s owned by an old friend.”

“Huh. Do they cut hair?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “Looking for a new stylist, Jo Oda?”

He looked up. Their eyes met; for several long seconds, he simply stared into those dark pools, trying to read her intentions. She was hiding something, he figured, but something much more obvious was floating on the surface.

She wanted him. Or she wanted to try him, anyway.

He released her hand. “I guess my reputation precedes me,” he said carefully. “Please tell me you didn’t hear the Blue Light story.”

“Everyone heard that story, Oda-kun.” She puffed on her cigarette. “But we bumped into each other on the first day of school, remember?”

Of course he remembered.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he said.

“Mitsuko Houshi.” She flicked her cigarette away. “But you can call me Mitsuko-senpai.”

“Are you a second year?”

“A third year, actually.”

Crap. Please be under eighteen, Jo prayed. He could tease out that information later…he didn’t want to make his fifteen-year-old intentions that obvious.

He decided to go back to the original thread of conversation. “I am looking for a new stylist,” he said. “I’m not keen on taking a 40-minute bus ride to my old one.” He took a long drag. “But I haven’t found any place nearby that respects a straight man’s desire for style.”

She leaned against the bench. She expertly crossed her legs in her short skirt and smiled.

“I can tell you care about your appearance,” she murmured. “You really stand out against the scruffy thugs at this school.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

She licked her teeth. “Nice watch,” she said with careful emphasis.

Jo had nearly forgotten the white watch. He pulled his left wrist closer and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mitsuko suddenly leaned across him.

Jo froze for a second. Her breasts brushed his arm.

“Chitose!” she called, waving a hand at a girl in the cafeteria. “Did you get my message?”

Jo didn’t want to come off as rude. He watched Chitose call something back and pointedly avoided his gaze from the older woman draped across his lap.

“So…Mitsuko-senpai,” he offered. “Do you like clubbing?”

Mitsuko smoothly pushed herself back to a sitting position on the bench. “What was that?” she asked.

“We were talking about Blue Light.” Jo dropped his cigarette and ground it into the pavement. “Have you been to that place? Do you like it?”

Mitsuko chuckled. “Blue Light’s a little lame,” she admitted, “but I do like clubs. I love the anonymity of them.”

Jo’s lips curled slightly. “Funny–I feel the same.”

She brushed a strand of bleached hair behind her ear. “Maybe we should go be anonymous together sometime.”

Jo felt familiar satisfaction roll through his veins and relax every muscle in his body. Nothing loosened him up better than victory.

I’m in.

Mitsuko stood and stretched her arms over her head. “I need that tea,” she yawned. “I hope Ken-chan wasn’t killed in line. I should probably check.”

Jo didn’t want–or need–to ask for her number yet. “Do you usually have lunch fourth period?” he asked instead.

“Usually.”

“Good. I hate my fourth-period class and want an excuse to skip it.”

She laughed. She waved a few of her glittering fingertips at him and sauntered away.

Jo watched her go. The way she moved her hips…it had to be on purpose. No one moved like that in school slippers.

But Jo liked thinking that it was on purpose. Her preferred girls who played the game to those who “were just themselves.” He prided himself on his carefully constructed persona, after all–he valued effort over honesty in all things. It got a lot more shit done.

A few students had grabbed seats in the small corner during his conversation with Mitsuko, so Jo decided it was getting too cramped. He unwrapped his second bread as he left the cafeteria and made his way back to the dorm.

By the time he got back, he’d finished his bread and really needed something to drink. He found a lot of empty tea and water bottles near his bed, but nothing with liquid left. Jo decided to forget his afternoon classes and go to a coffee shop instead. He reached into his pocket to make sure he had enough cash on him.

His wallet was gone.

Jo froze. His eyes quickly scanned his bedside table, but he knew he’d brought it to lunch–he’d pulled it out to buy his bread. He checked every pocket, cursing himself for letting all the Blue Light and Byakko nonsense distract him.

Somebody was robbing him! How could he forget that?! He’d spent the last day specifically seeking crowded places and hadn’t thought for a second that it would make his wallet a target! He angrily pushed a cigarette between his lips and mentally called himself the filthiest insults he could come up with. At least he’d had the common sense to empty his wallet of anything important since school started.

Something sharp pricked the edge of frantic fingers. He dug his hand deeper into his pocket to fish out the offending item.

It was a small piece of plastic, painted in gold glitter. Jo could make out half a sun.

The unlit cigarette fell from his mouth.

“Chitose!”

He suddenly felt Mitsuko’s body drape over him again. The brush of her breasts, completely dominating his attention.

“Son of a…bitch,” he breathed. She’d bumped into him on the first day of school. Right before he’d lost a wallet. She’d admitted to being at Blue Light.

He’d found his stalker with the itchy fingers.

For a long moment, Jo didn’t know what to think. All the blood in his body had unconsciously already drained downward.

Jo was simultaneously more furious and more turned on than he’d ever been in his life.