Chapter Ten
Interrogation
Neither Ann nor Shiho said anything during the short elevator ride to their floor. The blond girl's hands were in her pockets, twitching and curling in her raw emotional state, while Shiho simply looked on into nothing in a daze. They had both been smiling as they said their goodnights to Akira and Ryuji, but anyone seeing them now would never have guessed at the possibility, given their current disposition.
As the cheesy disco music continued to play over the speaker in the elevator, they suddenly came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal the long hallway of hotel rooms before the girls. The carpet was a swirling sixties design complete with muted reds, oranges and purples zigzagging up and down the floor bathed in dim orange lighting. It all seemed dated, yes, but the soft hues did offer some semblance of a comforting feeling, at least to Ann.
Shiho continued to walk on as if through a thick fog. Her steps were heavy and uneven, her head bobbing in rhythm. As Ann alternated between checking on her friend and watching the room numbers to find 472, she noticed that Shiho did not even seem to notice her, or the rooms they passed. It truly appeared to Ann that Shiho was in some sort of dream, unconnected from reality. The image brought back strong and painful memories of when they were in high school, the last time Ann had seen her friend make such expressions. It made her stomach church, her fists clench, and her heart pound, as she knew exactly what was going through Shiho's head.
They rounded a corner and saw a woman in a maid outfit exiting one of the rooms. Ann saw the plate with "472" on it next to the door and tapped Shiho's shoulder, causing her to stiffen up and her eyes dart around wildly as if being awoken from a deep and nasty dream.
"Hey," said Ann softly, "we're here."
"Oh…" Shiho trailed off, regaining her composure. "Right, sorry," she stammered.
"Don't apologize. Let's just get in there and relax," replied Ann, leading Shiho on toward the room.
The maid turned around and quickly bowed to the girls. She had long dark hair done up in twin tails next to the hat centered on her head. Her lavish, frilly dress was tacky at best. "Good evening, ladies," she said with a friendly tone whilst bowed, "your room is all ready for your stay. If you have any concerns or needs," she rose her head back up, "please do not hesitate to call—" Shiho, Ann, and the maid's eyes all widened at the sight before each of them. Shiho was stunned speechless, while Ann made some kind of shocked, almost choking sound in her throat.
"K-K-Kawakami!?" Ann exclaimed in total disbelief at the sight of her second-year homeroom teacher, Ms. Sadayo Kawakami.
"Oh my god," the maid muttered. "Oh, dear god."
Shiho pointed at the flustered maid, just starting to regain her voice. "What are you doing here?!" she asked. "How did you end up as a housekeeper in a place like this!?"
Kawakami put her hands on her hips, which were far narrower than her dress would have one believe, and mustered a disapproving expression. "I was about to ask exactly how you two came to be guests here," she said as if that was the only thing strange about the situation. "What was this about an emergency reservation that I had to rush up here for right before my shift ended?"
"Ms. Kawakami," said Ann, "you are a maid! How the hell did you become a maid here!?"
"Keep it down, will you?" Kawakami replied, visibly and audibly growing more annoyed. "There are guests trying to sleep in all these rooms, you know."
"Right, sorry," Ann conceded awkwardly. She rubbed her temple as she tried to compose herself. "Look, Ms. Kawakami, Shiho and I have had a long and hard night, and seeing you here in that… uh, outfit was just, well, not what we expected."
"Yes," Shiho added, "we are very sorry, Ma'am," she bowed.
Kawakami sighed as her gaze fell to the floor. "It's alright girls," she waved her hand. "I'm sorry I got upset, really. It's just that the clientele we serve here are not the kind of crowd I would have expected you two to run with."
"We don't," Ann replied immediately. "A lot happened in the last couple hours and now we're staying here for the night. I'd love to give you the run down and all, but Shiho and I really need some rest." She put her arm through Shiho's, praying to the gods that her attempt to excuse herself as quickly as possible did not appear too rude to Kawakami. "If we need anything, we'll call you right away, okay?"
Kawakami sighed and took hold of her supply cart's handle. She made a sort of sardonic pouting expression before responding. "Fine, just sleep well, girls. I've really got to be getting home anyway." She started to walk past her two former students. She put her hands in her pocket and produced a small black keycard. "Here's the room key," she handed it to Shiho. "Bring it to the front desk before you leave."
"Thank you," said Shiho quickly.
Kawakami then "Just be careful, okay?" she asked quietly as she came up to them. "Try to keep to yourselves while you're here."
"We know," replied Ann. "Trust me." Kawakami nodded and walked on down the hall, rounding a corner and vanishing out of sight. Ann let out a long exhale as Shiho slid the keycard into the slot, opening the room to them. It was lit by two lamps, one by the bed and the other on a table by the large television. The room was far bigger than they had expected, being considerably larger than Ann's own apartment back in Shibuya. To their right as they entered was a bathroom with a large shower and bathtub, and to their left was a small but usable kitchenette. Beyond the entryway was the bedroom. Two queen size beds, a nightstand in between, and a large window with the dark curtains closed at the far end of the room; their luggage was placed in neat, segregated piles in between the farther bed and the desk by the television.
"I can't believe that Ms. Kawakami is working here," Shiho stated as they walked inside. "Talk about a small world."
"Yeah, I about had a heart attack," Ann said as she sat down on the bed nearer to the entrance. "I mean, a lady's got to work, I know, I just would never have expected to see her in a place like this. I really hope she's okay and not paying off some crazy debt or something."
"I thought about that too." Shiho walked past Ann to inspect their luggage, wanting to confirm that nothing had been lost in transit. "She didn't look hurt or anything, but she did seem very tired. I hope they're not overworking her."
"If we get the chance, maybe we should talk to her tomorrow."
"Oh, tomorrow…" Shiho's voice trailed off, arousing Ann's suspicions immediately. She knew that tone all too well.
"What's wrong with tomorrow?" Ann asked her plainly, though already had ideas about what was going through her friend's head.
"I, um," Shiho began shakily, not bringing her gaze to meet the girl she was talking with, "think I will be… leaving tomorrow."
Ann was not surprised at that reply. She shook her head and sighed quietly. "I knew you were gonna say that."
"I'm so sorry!" Shiho whirled around on her feet, looking to Ann with apologetic, pleading eyes beginning to tear up. "I just can't stay here knowing that… that monster is here, probably looking for us! I have family in Osaka I can stay with, and you can come with me too. We can get a taxi in the morning and get out of here, let the police handle this and just… just…"
"Run away," Ann finished darkly. She looked off into space, her gaze cold and steely. Shiho knew that look well, and it only made her more upset.
"You can't possibly be thinking of staying, can you?" she asked frantically. "Do you want revenge or something now, is that it?"
The fear and morose in Shiho's voice now mixed with vehement anger, though Ann thought little of it. Again, she completely expected such a reaction. She had always been the fighter of the two. "Kamoshida is here," Ann began, glowering at the wall, "in this city, right under our noses. All I ever got to do against the man was a weak restraining order, and you know it never left me feeling good about the situation."
"Yes, I know. But it's still ridiculous at the very least, Ann! It looks like Kamoshida is much more dangerous now than he was back then, and you still want to fight him?!"
"Of course I do!" Ann shot back, glaring at her friend. "After everything he did to you, to the students, to me, of course I want to beat the ever living shit out of him, take back everything he ever took from anyone! I've thought about this exact day ever since I walked out of the lawyer's office knowing that I'd hardly hurt him at all with the restraining order, and now I might finally have this chance."
Shiho's own glare grew darker, colder. "And what are you going to do then? March up and down the street until they find you?"
"Of course not. I'm going to talk to the guys tomorrow and see what we can do. If nothing can be done, fine. Fuck it, I'll leave and meet you in Osaka. But if there is something we can do- I can do…" Ann stood to her feet, fists and jaw clenched as if she were keeping herself from exploding, "then I will put every ounce of strength in my body into taking that bastard down."
Ann expected a tongue lashing from Shiho at the very least, but no such response came. Her friend provided on response at all. Ann could not see Shiho's eyes; they were obscured by her hair as she looked to the floor. Ann wondered if she had taken it too far, if she had gotten too intense while her friend felt so vulnerable, and was about to apologize when Shiho finally spoke up.
"And what if you get hurt?" she muttered. "What if they find you? Take you? Are you really able to trust a bunch of yakuza to look after you? How do you know they won't hurt you too?"
"Ryuji was a friend," replied Ann. "Not a close one, but still a friend of mine. I've known him half my life, Shiho. And that Akira, well, we know he's not a yakuza, and he definitely doesn't act like one at all. Sojiro seems trustworthy too but I'll keep my guard up around him. I wouldn't be teaming up with the yakuza, Shiho. I'd be getting help from two nice guys, one of which probably wants to see Kamoshida taken down a few pegs almost as much as I do."
Shiho was about to retort, but as she tried to think of some fitting counterargument, she felt as if her mind instantly became as exhausted as her body. She slowly sat onto the bed, hands laying limply in her lap. Her body felt heavy, her mind foggy and unfocused, and it was all apparent on her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sorry?" Ann asked in a mix of confusion and concern. "For what?"
"For thinking you're stupid for wanting to fight Kamoshida."
Ann's heart sunk into her gut at her friend's words. Her eyes widened, and stung with new tears. "Stupid?" she barely got out.
"When you said you wanted to fight Kamoshida, I immediately thought it was idiotic, like you had a death wish or something. Probably because that's how I'd f-feel…" her voice caught in her throat as two tears streamed down her face and she began to cry again. Ann bolted from her bed and nearly tackled her friend in a hug, sitting on Shiho's bed next to her as her gasping crying grew. "I'm sorry," she forced out, "I'm just so scared, Ann. I'm too s-scared to want to fight him like you, I just want to run away when you want to stay and fight," she began to cry more intensely, sounding as if she were in physical pain.
"Oh, Shiho," Ann's voice cracked as she began to cry too, holding her friend as tight as she could.
"Not wanting to fight with you makes me feel so weak and stupid, but I just can't!" she sputtered, her tone growing more pained and now even angry. "I can't face him again after what he did! I felt like I was gonna die just from seeing him at the club. I'm sorry, Ann! I just can't do this with you!"
Shiho cried heavily into Ann's chest, while Ann let her tears flow into Shiho's hair. Her friend's confession almost hurt her more than the reality of the situation they were in. "This is just like back then," she whispered to Shiho. "It's just like back in Shujin. And that's why I'm gonna fight him, Shiho." She hugged Shiho even tighter, as if the slightest relaxation would render her lost forever. "So you never have to cry about him again, and so you never have to fight him."
"A… Ann?"
Ann tried to make her voice sound comforting, but the venom the subject brought out from her seeped into her words as well. "I'll take care of him. I'm going to take him down, and get him behind bars, I swear it. For you, me, and everyone else he's hurt. Shiho, I swear to god, it's going to be okay." Shiho's crying stifled for a moment. Ann held her head in her arm and opened her red, stinging eyes. Her gaze was cold, furious, and deadly. She felt it was a good thing Shiho could not see her face, as much as she was ashamed to admit it. "Kamoshida… will not hurt anyone ever again."
A knocking on his door roused Akira from a dream that instantly grew vague in his memory. All he could remember was he was with his parents in a field on a sunny day, and his mother was smiling at him. The knocking continued as his eyelids slowly opened as if weighed down somehow. His body felt stiff as he tried to move it to a sitting position, all his muscles feeling as if they were thawing from being frozen.
"Akira?" came Ryuji's voice from the other side of the door. "We gotta head out soon, man. It's 4:30 already."
It took Akira a moment tor recollect why Ryuji would have woken him at 4:30, and when he remembered he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a sigh. "Ah, shit," he mumbled, his voice deep and groggy. "Yeah, fine," he called back, "I'll just get a quick shower."
"Alright, I already got one. Just—" Ryuji cut himself off with a long yawn, "don't spend too much time prettying yourself up, okay? We can take a good long nap once we're done."
"Wish we could right now," Akira groaned as he stretched his arms. Slowly and shakily, he stood to his feet, grabbed his still relatively clean clothing from yesterday, and made his way to the shower. He kept it cooler than he normally would in the hopes it would help him wake up, but even the cool water cascading down his body did little to rouse his senses. He still felt like he was moving through molasses as he washed his body and hair, only then realizing how insufferably greasy his full black locks had become.
Memories and evaluations of his current life situation tried to creep their way into his mind, but he banished them immediately. He had not the time nor energy for such ruminations.
After drying and dressing himself, and stowing away the knife he'd been given – just in case - Akira found Ryuji waiting in the entryway for him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and toes tapping on the ground in a quick rhythm. He had prominent bags under his eyes; his clothes, wrinkled and dirty looking.
"Did you get any sleep?" asked Akira as he approached him.
"Maybe four hours, I think," Ryuji replied, shaking his head. "I feel like death, but it'll just make the nap this afternoon all the sweeter, I suppose."
"Amen to that, man. Ready to head downstairs?"
"No, but that doesn't really matter, does it?" Ryuji asked with a sardonic fake grin. He pressed the down button on the elevator and rolled his neck, which sounded off with loud cracking noises.
"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?" asked Akira with the friendliest grin he could muster whilst feeling as if he was about to fall over.
"I'm not a morning person. I especially hate getting up before the sun. And you better feel thankful for me getting up to shower before you, dude. Maybe it was how tired I was that caused me to be so nice, but you still owe me."
"And how much earlier did you get up?"
"Like, ten minutes," Ryuji shrugged.
"Well," Akira nodded with eyebrows raised, "I am ever so grateful for your sacrifice."
"Damn right you are." The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They entered quietly and rode it down even quieter. It was not necessarily that the two young men had nothing to talk about, but moreso that they were too tired for any kind of significant conversation, and small talk sounded like more of a headache than they already had.
Arriving on the main floor, they exited the elevator and walked out onto the street outside LeBlanc. It was 4:52 at the time, and Akira and Ryuji felt a small sense of accomplishment upon getting ready with time to spare. That sense of accomplishment diminished, faded, and disappeared when they saw Iwai leaning against his faded red car on the curbside. He was smoking a cigarette into the chilly early morning air, illuminated by a streetlamp overhead. The scene strongly reminded Akira of a classy, urban chique painting.
"You're both late," Iwai deadpanned after blowing another puff of his smoke from his nose and mouth.
"Bullshit," Ryuji said with marginally more enthusiasm. "Boss said you'd be here at five, we're early."
"He said 'around five', Sakamoto." Iwai threw his cigarette butt into the street behind him. "You should know by now that if you're on time, you're late."
"You know, I would argue against that, but I'm honestly too tired for it. Let's just get going."
"Took the words right out of my mouth kid. Get in, both of you." Without another word, Akira and Ryuji got in the backseat of Iwai's car. It was a mid-range vehicle by the looks of it, not too expensive or flashy. But the full leather seating was more than acceptable to Akira's still aching, stiff muscles. He was worried he would fall back asleep for how surprisingly comfortable it was. "I could've just made you two walk there, you know," Iwai said as he started the car up, the engine roaring and vibrating the car in a way indicating it was a six cylinder. "You should be grateful."
"We are, really," said Akira. "Thank you, Iwai-san."
Iwai chuckled to himself as he put the car on drive and pulled away form the curb. "At least you got manners, kid."
Ryuji rubbed his eyes and sighed disheartedly. "It's too early for this, man."
"Hey, I'm only being nice because he's new. You know that, man."
"Still too early for this shit," Ryuji turned to look out the window.
"Whatever you say, man."
They drove off in silence. The empty streets passed by quickly in a haze, with Akira barely paying attention to any specific details. While only about two minutes had passed before Iwai finally spoke again, Akira felt as if it had perhaps been an hour.
"Did Boss give you two the lowdown on what we're doing?" Iwai asked with a stern tone.
Ryuji cracked his knuckles before responding while Akira was only just noticing that anyone had spoken. "You caught some jackass stalker that was tailing us last night, right? And we're gonna go have a chat with him."
"That's part of it. Did Boss tell you why you two were brought along?"
"Eh, no, not really. He was kind of vague on the details." Akira pulled his gaze from the outside and focused on the other two men in the car with him.
"Sounds like him. He wanted a couple things from you two. One, to get info on why exactly these guys singled out your little group, and if their supposed connections to that Kamoshida guy had anything to do with it. You do have quite a lot of history with the man, I'm told. And two," Iwai paused, putting Akira ever so slightly on edge, "to give you two a bit of field experience."
"Field experience?" asked Ryuji. "I can understand for Akira, but what about me? I've been at this for a year."
"You're muscle, Ryuji. You don't have any interrogation experience, do you?"
"I've given some people the run around before," he replied defensively.
"But you've never interrogated anyone. It's about time you learned, at least that's what Boss thought. Truth be told, I don't really know why he wanted Akira to be a part of this, but hey, it ain't my call."
Akira sighed and lowered his head. "I couldn't tell you," he muttered.
"It isn't my place to know, so that's fine with me." Iwai's agreeableness did nothing to alleviate Akira's concerns. "Hey, we're here," he added suddenly, rousing Ryuji and Akira to attention immediately.
The building they pulled up to was a small brick and mortar store with dirty windows, a wooden door with faded paint and a cracking frame, and a neon side overhead reading "Sin Bin" in tacky, strip club-esque font.
"God, what a dump," Ryuji remarked. "Iwai, why the hell are you cozy with the manager of this dive?"
"I'm not 'cozy' with him. We're acquainted, that's it," Iwai said as he exited the vehicle. Akira and Ryuji got out as well, though the black-haired young man exhibited less confidence than his companions. "Now, I'll do the talking, and you two will keep quiet unless spoken to. If he asks you anything, make your answers brief and vague. And for God's sake, don't touch anything in the displays."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Akira said.
Ryuji put his hands in his pocket as he looked in the heavily tinted window. "This stuff probably isn't my speed anyway."
"If most of this stuff is, then you've got much worse problems to worry about, Sakamoto." Iwai groaned in his throat as he approached the door.
As he slowly pushed it open, Akira's senses were immediately assaulted with a musky, stagnant scent. He grimaced on reflex, and Ryuji noticed. He was about to mock his companion for it when he was gifted with the same scent entering his nostrils and made a similar face, complete with an utterance of "Yech!" that he tried to stifle in case the fabled shop owner heard him. Iwai, however, was completely unphased.
A little bell rang out overhead as Iwai pushed the door open. Slowly, the three men entered the dimly store, immediately treated to more of that disgusting scent. The carpet beneath them was dark, weathered, and stained with many substances all three dared not guess at. Five rows of provocative video tapes and other media were immediately to their right, and on the borders of the rows were large displays of adult toys, posters, and devices Akira could not even harbor a guess as to their nature. He had to admit to himself though, only a few seconds in this establishment proved more educational on the nature of the night then he could have fathomed.
Innocence lost, he finally noticed the counter to their left, and the scrawny, short middle-aged Japanese man slumped over it, snoring loudly.
"That's your guy?" Akira asked, trying to keep his gaze focused on the man and not the instinctively enticing paraphernalia behind him.
Iwai looked as if he had just been asked the color of the sun. "Yeah, that's my guy," he groaned. "Just stand here, I'll take care of it." He took a step forward then looked back at the two younger men with a stern and threatening gaze. "And don't. Touch. Anything." Akira and Ryuji nodded in perfect frightened unison.
Iwai let out a long breath and walked over to the snoring man. He leaned on the counter in front of him and looked down on the man disapprovingly, judgmentally. Iwai tapped him hard on the shoulder, causing him to stir and lift his head slowly.
"Ah, the hell?" the man groaned as he opened his eyes. His voice was raspy and high-pitched for a man of his age. Finally getting a good look at his face, Akira noticed it was just as gaunt as the rest of his body. His skin was pale, his eyes dark and his cheeks thin.
This guy doesn't get out in the sun much.
"Hey," Iwai said as he looked down his nose at the man, "we're here."
The shopkeeper rubbed his eyes then glared at the yakuza, trying his best to keep his eyes open lest he immediately fall back asleep. "Yeah, I can see that. Ever heard of knocking, Iwai? It's the new cool thing with the kids, you should try it."
"Your bell rang, and you didn't get up. The fault's on you for sleeping on the job."
"First off," the man wagged a finger at Iwai, "rude. Second, why on god's earth could you not have scheduled this for a more reasonable time, Iwai? I could've just closed shop for a bit in the day or have you come over at night."
Iwai shook his head and wagged his finger, imitating the man. "First off, Slim, we need this info asap. Second, we needed him to marinate over night a bit so he could be a bit more agreeable. Third, we didn't wanna risk anyone coming in and hearing his screams if he woke up during the day. We're saving your ass. You should be grateful."
"Slim" glared up at Iwai, who stood a whole head taller than him. Despite the difference in both height and muscle mass, Slim seemed to be fearless in the face of possible danger from the yakuza. He then past Iwai and studied the two younger yakuza behind him. "And who are these kids?" Slim asked incredulously. "You taking on apprentices now or something?"
"Consider it a field trip," replied Iwai dismissively. "They don't concern you. Now open the door."
"Yeesh, fine." Slim walked out from behind the corner and to the wall in the back of the store, fiddling with a keyring hanging off his pocket as he did. Akira suspected there must have been twenty keys on that thing, jingling together as Slim walked. He then noticed on the wall was a small keyhole amidst the posters of technically not nude women. Slim picked out a small bronze colored key from the bunch on his belt and inserted it into the keyhole. There was a click from the other side of the wall, and it slowly slid backward, revealing a small home theater.
"Holy shit," Ryuji muttered. The theater comprised of four leather seats, a large projector screen in front of them and a powerful, and extremely expensive looking, projector in the back. The room was dimly lit, as if setting a sensual mood Akira had no desire to experience. What then caught Akira's attention was the large metal door at the opposite end of the room.
"We're so in over our heads," Akira whispered to Ryuji.
"Speak for yourself, newbie."
Slim walked over to the metal door and opened it with a separate key, revealing a dark staircase lit only by a hanging lightbulb and a turned off pink neon sign that read "Peep Show" with an arrow pointing down the stairwell. Slim turned around and said, "He's right where you left him, Iwai. Though I doubt he's awake yet. I haven't heard shit, at least."
"That's fine, I can wake him up." Iwai then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a large, heavy roll of yen bills, which must have totaled to at least 500,000 yen, from Akira's perspective. "This will take care of the service cost, and make up for your interrupted sleep schedule."
"Well, I'll certainly sleep better tonight knowing I have such generous associates," Slim said with a grin as he took the wad of money from Iwai. He ran his fingertip along the edge, listening intently to the flipping sound of the bills as if entranced by a symphony. "Take your time with your friend down there. I'm gonna go home and catch up on some sleep, just lock the place up when you're done. As long as you still got the key, that is."
"I got it," Iwai nodded. "And it'll be left under the loose brick by the door when we leave."
"Good man," Slim nodded. He turned around and walked back into the store. "Pleasure doing business with you!" he called back as he slid the wall shut. Akira and Ryuji were now locked in, and the only place to go was down.
"Sooo," Ryuji droned awkwardly, "the guy you caught is knocked out down there or something?"
"We gave him anesthetic to keep him from going ape-shit before we got here. It was some of the good stuff, so he may need a few wake-up slaps. I'll let you two do that part, at least."
"What an honor," said Akira.
The three men walked down the dark stairwell, the musty stench they could smell from outside growing far stronger as they made their way down the dark corridor. Akira coughed in his throat as the stench filled his senses, with Ryuji making a similar gagging noise. Iwai smirked, thinking about how innocent these poor kids were.
A row of three windows with metal shades over them lined the wall as they came down from the stairwell. Two lightbulbs hung overhead, lighting the room in a way most sketchy and questionable. Akira had never seen a fetish porn set before, but were he asked to describe how he would imagine one, the scene before him would have been the perfect starting point. He wondered if he was sinning just by being in the midst of whatever the hell degenerate men did in these places.
"The third one down," Iwai pointed down the hall. "Go in through here." There was another old, rotting wooden door to their immediate right. "Backstage", it read in faded red letters across the top. Akira and Ryuji expected Iwai to lead them, but he instead stepped back and motioned toward the door. "After you," he said nonchalantly.
"Yeesh," Ryuji shrugged, "fine. At least one of us is enjoying this."
Akira rolled his eyes and entered the backstage area. Another long hallway awaited him, with red decorations and lighting adorning the floors and walls. Tip rates were written on the walls in front of the windows, and right next to the rates were many cringeworthy and filthy attempts at flirtatious graffiti encouraging the establishment's patrons to give up more of their wages they had earned for their families.
And then he noticed him. At the end of the hall, tied to an old metal folding chair and slumped over, was the same man Akira and Ryuji had seen last night tailing them. He had been wearing sunglasses the previous night, and in the dark of the room, Akira spied the same black pair on the ground in pieces. "Looks like you already roughed him up a bit," he remarked to Iwai.
"He was a fighter. Not a good one by any stretch, but we still had to lay him out a bit before we could hold him down to pump the anesthetics into him. Rat bastard was kicking and screaming for ten minutes when we brought him back here."
"How'd you get him here in the first place if he was so violent?" Ryuji asked.
"Chloroform, duh."
"Ah, right."
Iwai looked over the body of their captive. The man reeked of sweat and piss, only making the stench of the place worse. The older yakuza gave the man a light tap on the cheek, to which he received no reaction whatsoever. "Out cold," Iwai remarked. "That's no good at all. He can't rat out of his degenerate buddies like this. Ryuji, give him a couple slaps."
"Well," Ryuji rubbed his hands together confidently, "if ya insist, Iwai."
Akira crossed his arms. "Geez, don't be too down about it," he said sarcastically.
"You're just afraid you won't get your chance, man," the blond replied. "Don't worry, I won't be too hard on him so you can hopefully get a couple in."
"Thanks, really," Akira deadpanned.
"No problem, I gotcha." Ryuji stood over the stalker, inspecting him closely before waving his hand in front of his nose. "Whew, this sap's in a bad spot. Probably let it out hours ago."
"How astute of you," Iwai remarked. "Now get on with it."
"I know, I know. Don't gotta be a hardass about it." Ryuji grabbed the man's long, sweaty hair, feeling his fingers get coated in grease and immediately regretting the decision. But hey, he assumed it at least looked cooler. Ryuji then raised his hand high in the air, and in one swift motion, brought it down on the captive's cheek. The slap was fast and hard, sounding off with a loud smack as his hand connected with the man's face, which turned his head sharply to the side before it hung limp again. "Huh," Ryuji said, "that did nothing. And I even bruised his cheek."
"Told you we had the good stuff," Iwai added. "Alright, Kurusu, you're up."
Akira considered replying, but decided against it. No amount of deflective sarcasm or wit was going to get him out of this situation, so he might as well do as he was told without making a fool of himself. The captive groaned deep in his throat, signaling that the anesthesia was starting to wear off. Akira wondered as to what would be the best way to perhaps get Iwai to lay off him getting involved in the inevitable "interrogation", not having any desire to subject this man to any torture the older yakuza was likely planning. If I go all out, maybe he won't push me to any more than this. Then again, it's not like this freak doesn't deserve a punch in the mouth.
In a similar fashion to Ryuji, Akira clenched his fist and raised his hand in the air. As he brought the punch down on the man's cheek, right below his eye, he saw for a brief moment the face of the drunkard who was responsible for the mess he found himself in. He could hear his voice, that of the woman crying out for help; he could smell the thick alcoholic stench of the man's breath, feel his wrathful glare. This memory, combined with the knowledge of what this degenerate bastard did for a living, and what he likely intended to do with the girls, roused a powerful and nightmarish flame inside him much like what he had felt that fateful night.
The sudden memories and thoughts must have had a truly profound effect, for what followed was the sound of bones cracking as the man and the chair he was strapped in toppled to the ground with a crash.
"Holy shit, man!" Ryuji exclaimed from behind him. "Are you trying to kill the guy or something?!"
As Akira took stock of the situation, and only then realized what he had done, he heard Iwai chuckle to himself before he could formulate a response himself. "Not bad, kid," said Iwai. "You've got a pretty good arm on you. Better than I expected from how you look, at least."
"Um, thanks?" Akira replied slowly. His senses still felt hazy, unfocused. It took him a moment to register the captive laying beneath him squirming in his binds and letting out guttural groans.
"Oh, he's finally waking up," Iwai remarked as if telling someone that two plus two equals four. "Not surprised though. A punch like that could have probably woken the dead, Akira."
"I appreciate it," Akira muttered, stepping back to stand beside Ryuji. He felt sick, both in his gut and his conscience. He felt debased, to say the least. He was participating in a yakuza interrogation, after all. Even if he was not to be included in the following events, he was still at the very least implicated in them.
Iwai kneeled beside the captive and took firm hold of the man's hair, lifting his bobbing head off the ground. A trail of drool and blood fell from his mouth as he let out another raspy groan. "Good morning," said Iwai. "How'd you sleep?"
"Nngh," replied the man in a hoarse whisper. "W…Where am I?"
"At a peep show. Remember?"
The captive opened his eyes and looked to Iwai with a face that was far more confused than pained. Akira suspected the drugs must still be dulling his senses, even if he was regaining consciousness. "Oh, uh… Right, peep show. Must have had… a fun night last night, huh?" he made a sickening, bloodsoaked grin that only released more drool and blood from his mouth, running down his chin in thick trails.
"Not exactly, man," Iwai replied as he lifted his seat back up. Now sitting upright, the man's clouded, dull gaze seemed to clear slightly as he took in his surroundings. "You remember why you're here?" Iwai crossed his arms in front of him.
"I… uh… I was out on the town, I think…"
"Go on."
"…I was running a job. The boss told us to… uh, track down a girl? Or… was it two girls?"
"You're on the right track."
"Yeah, yeah… it was two girls."
"At least you can remember that much," Iwai nodded. "Now, do you remember how you got here?"
"I didn't come for the peepshow?"
"Do we look like hookers to you?"
"Not really, no…" Akira was now feeling slightly more confused than anything. "But what are we all doing here then? And, uh… how many of you are there exactly?"
Ryuji scoffed at him. "Did the drugs fry your brain or something, man?"
"Drugs?" asked the man. "God, what did I take last night?" he looked down to his feet, and then his whole body jerked upright. "Wh-What the hell is going on?! Why am I chained up!?" he started struggling against the chains, rocking the seat back and forth until Iwai put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing so tight it caused the cruel sex offender to yelp in pain.
Iwai seemed to look beyond the man's eyes, as if he were a reaper informing a poor soul it was his time. His eyes were wide, their grey hue accentuated in the dim light. A look of terror quickly washed over the captive's face, feeling as if he was staring into the uncaring void. "You don't remember? Really?" His only response was a quivering mumble in the man's throat. "Well then, I'll try to jog your memory." Iwai's hand traveled to the man's hair again and he pushed back on his body till the chair was leaning backward. The captive's long hair caught hard in Iwai's grip as the force of gravity tried to bring the chair crashing down backward, the only thing stopping from doing so was Iwai's perfectly balanced grip. The man screamed as his hair was nearly pulled from his scalp, his body convulsing involuntarily as he tried to escape.
"What is your name?" Iwai demanded of him.
"Augh! Ergh, j-just fuck off, man! Fuck you!"
"Tell me your name, you degenerate bastard!"
"You – You already know that, r-right?! Why are you asking me!?"
"Jogging your memory, like I said." Akira unconsciously took a step back away from Iwai. Ryuji remained completely still. "Now tell me your name!"
"It's – It's Takeo! Takeo Narushu!"
"Well, at least you remember that much!" Iwai thrusted his hand backward, coming as close to letting the chair fall as he could, then pulled it back toward him. As Takeo screamed in pain again and came forward so the seat returned to its original position, Iwai let loose a powerful underhanded jab into Takeo's gut, making the captive spit out more drool and blood, feeling as if his stomach had just been crushed by a brick. He slumped forward in his seat until Iwai pushed his head back to look him in the eyes again.
"Now that you remember your name," he began in a much quieter tone than previously, "tell me who your boss is, and where he's staying."
"Augh," Takeo spit out more fluids, "what do you care? You're yakuza, right? What do you guys care what a bunch of crooks do? We're just the same as you!"
Iwai chuckled low in his throat as he stood to his feet. "You really think that?" he asked. "You don't know anything about us if you think we're remotely on the same level."
"Says the guy who kidnapped me and is holding me in a sex dungeon!" Akira had to admit the man had at least a semblance of a point, at least by his metrics.
"Ah, it would seem that way, huh?" Iwai turned back around to face him. "But there's a couple important differences your worthless degenerate brain didn't pick up on." With nothing in the way of ceremony or buildup, Iwai once again punched his brick of a fist directly into Takeo's ribs, making the man cry out once again, his cries turning to whimpers. Iwai then continued with an ominous tone. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not an innocent young woman, buddy. We're not torturing you for pleasure either. You and your scummy friends are doing unapproved business in an owned town, and we represent the people in charge."
"I guessed that, jackass," Takeo said before spitting a wad of blood into Iwai's face, which he was repayed for with a strong slap across the bruised cheek.
"I'll cut to the chase," Iwai continued, "where's your boss?"
"In bed with your daughter!"
Iwai responded with a left cross this time. "Tell us now, you fuck!"
Takeo sputtered and spat out a couple bloody pieces of teeth. Akira considered trying to get Iwai to lay off a little, even in spite of the hilarious absurdity of the idea, until Takeo looked back up to Iwai with a profusely bleeding Cheshire grin.
"My boss," he growled, "is going to make us all rich, just you wait. He's got big plans for those girls he's marked. And we've done our research. Oh hell yes, we have! They can run anywhere, and we'll find 'em! Anywhere on this god forsaken Earth, and we'll track 'em down and still make the best fucking film in history!"
"You goddamn degenerate," Iwai glowered at him.
"Ha!" Takeo guffawed at him with wild, deranged eyes. "Says the yakuza! You guys have been some of our most valuable customers since the 60's! You got no idea what kind of fucked up shit your lapdogs get up to in dead of night, do ya!?"
"Shut your mouth!" Iwai brought down his fist, bruising Takeo's black eye and rupturing a blood vessel. His response was more crazed, animalistic laughter.
Ryuji put a hand on Akira's shoulder. He noticed that his friend's hand was shaking. "This is insane," Ryuji whispered. "This guy's off the deep end."
"No shit." Iwai brought his knee up into Takeo's chin in an attempt to get him to focus again. Akira could have sworn he heard something crack. "This is making me sick." Akira felt that same inferno within him rise up again as Takeo continued laughing. Iwai obviously was having a similar reaction, as was Ryuji, who looked ready to explode with anger.
"Give up your boss," Iwai demanded, "or I'll make your death half as painful as you deserve!"
Takeo made a guttural sound in throat that was somewhere between a laugh, a choking noise, and regurgitation. "My boss is still in town," he said amidst the broken teeth and bleeding mouth. "He's gonna get the bitches, take them to the shoot, and make fucking art out of them." Akira clenched his fists and jaw. His stomach tightened, his vision became blurry and his heartbeat pounded in his head like a tribal drum. "He'll make 'em beg us to stop! He'll destroy them physically and mentally! He's the king of pain, you fucks! He turns destruction into glorious art! And you kids!" he looked to Akira and Ryuji. "When we're done with them, we'll come after your sisters and mothers, and make paintings out of their blood, decorate your houses in their insides! We'll show you all the glorious art of King Kamoshi-!"
It happened in an instant, so quickly that Akira did not even see the world move. He did not feel his muscles act, his brain did not consciously tell him anything, until he realized his hands were latched around Takeo's bloodstained throat. Akira was shaking him as he strangled him, roaring in his own throat and he put every ounce of strength he had into his arms. He thought he heard Ryuji speak his name from behind him, but all the sound in the world was drowned out by the blood thumping in his ears. After some time, however long it was he could not say for certain, he was pulled back and fell to the ground. Above him stood Iwai, looking down on him with a vacant expression.
Takeo coughed up more blood and bile, trying to get breath back in his lungs. Iwai payed no mind to him, only staring down at Akira's shocked face.
"Leave," he commanded. "Now. You both can walk back."
Ryuji frantically looked between the two while Akira was still trying to process what had happened. Himself maintaining a little composure, he helped Akira to his feet and hurried him down the hall to the backstage entrance. "C'mon, man," he said to him. "This ain't out problem anymore."
"Oh god," Akira whispered as he felt his face going numb. "Oh shit… Oh fuck…"
As they got to the stairwell, Ryuji supporting Akira all the way there, they heard Takeo and Iwai arguing over something, but Akira could not make it out for the life of him.
He then heard one last long, demented laugh. Then a gunshot. Then eerie, painful silence.
The next thing Akira noticed, he was sitting on the floor in the Sin Bin. His breathing, ragged. His clothes, messed up and spattered with blood. Next he realized he was standing over a trashcan that was now filled with his vomit. His mind was a maelstrom of images, feelings, memories from the past ten minutes. Then, for some reason, he thought of his mom serving him his favorite dinner dish.
And then he saw Ann. He saw her tearful, thankful smile from the previous night. It was as bright as the sun now peaking over the horizon.