Makoto hadn't expected Naseru to be waiting in the art room. Especially since he was arriving fifteen minutes later than usual, a sad looking curry bun in his hand. But there he was, Matsuoka Naseru, standing behind Makoto's chair. He didn't look surprised when Makoto arrived, just that it was inevitable.
"I need to talk to you," Naseru said, throwing a shiny red apple in Makoto's direction. He caught it, surprisingly.
"I need to talk to you, too. I um."
"Me first," Naseru insisted, walking away from Makoto's seat and taking his own at the small table, "Look. I'm sorry I said what I said the way I said it. I shouldn't have made out you were involved. Everyone knows everyone in a small town, it wouldn't only be you who knew all three of those girls. I shouldn't have said it like that."
Makoto nodded, "Thank you for apologising. I, uh, have to tell you something, too."
"Okay."
"Your new friend Kurosaki is an awful person."
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about him. Do his parents own a garage or something?"
Makoto shook his head, "They own a deli."
"Right then. That clears that up."
"Okay?" Makoto said, unsurely.
"He knows where Watanabe is," Naseru declared, "And tonight I'm going with him to get her out."
Naseru spent the whole of his afternoon willing the clock to go faster. Emi had finally returned to class, and Makoto had been called for a second interview. As he left the class, he shot Naseru a quick look. A silent message, confirming what he already knew, it didn't matter what Makoto said, because by tonight, the girls would be free.
Maki was eager, whenever the flow of teaching allowed, to find out just how aggressively Emi had grilled Ueno. She deserved it, of course, if Kibata was or had been one of the products Kurosaki had been talking about, or not, she should have taken Emi seriously. It seemed, now Ueno had admitted to there being three missing girls from the school, everyone seemed to realise that Emi's hysteria on the first day had been completely logical and understandable.
Kaho observed the commendations Maki was giving her new friend with eager, open arms. Clearly Maki's Future Self had a lot to say. Kaho couldn't recall Maki saying anything to Ayami or to Shizuka during school hours. Not for days. Maybe even a week! Maybe her Future Self had been vicious and declared she had been a horrible person as a teen. Made her see sense.
She willed the clock to move faster so she could spring the idea of karaoke onto Naseru, make sure he was staying away from Katsuo, especially after she'd seen them exit the bathroom together. She sighed, resting her head on her hands as the history teacher rambled about ancient armies.
When the bell finally charmed, the class relaxed. The sports people, like Rantaro and Ryota, Eiji and Yuta were the first out the door, eager to spend as much time as they could with their teams and coaches. Ryota didn't even wave.
Naseru was quick to get up too, ramming his belongings in his schoolbag with haste.
"Hey! Matsuoka! Wait!" Kaho exclaimed. He turned and stared at her, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah?"
Mariah skipped over, slinging her arm over Kaho's shoulder, "Want to come to karaoke with us?"
"No. I have plans," Naseru said, "Maybe another time. Thanks."
He was curt and quick, making his way to the door briskly, knocking shoulders with Makoto in the hallway.
"Okay," Makoto whispered, his voice hoarse, "I'll be out of sight, make sure your phone's off. You don't want to be incriminated."
"And you remember, Makoto," Naseru said quietly, "If anything happens, play along. For Hikaru, and the girls."
Katsuo walked a few people ahead of Naseru when class was out. It made it easier, initially, to conceal that they had a shadow. Less so when the groups of students began to linger at convenience stores, or break off for some much-needed vitamin D. The sun's critical gaze was trained on Naseru as he trudged down the hill, past the train station and along past six different convenience stores, ten bus stops and the entrances to four different blocks of suburban houses. The downward incline wasn't steep, but Katsuo's pace was brisk. He'd removed his school blazer and stained school shirt, shoved them in his bag, and exchanged it for a leather jacket, white stitching on the right sleeve that mimicked the scar on his arm.
Katsuo slipped down an alleyway and Naseru followed. Makoto lingered on the busy street.
"Okay, Matsuoka, Tokyo Lionfish. Here's the deal: we go in there, enjoy the goods, get them packaged, go. Got it."
Naseru nodded, about to take another step, but Katsuo raised his hand, halting him. Naseru ground his teeth and held his breath. He waited.
Katsuo held his fingers up to his lips. Naseru's heart was racing, beating so furiously he was sure Katsuo would hear it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his hands on his trousers when a shadow popped into the corner of the alley. Makoto.
Naseru flinched, as Katsuo strode toward Makoto. He grabbed him by the blazer collar and shoved him against the wall.
"You think we'd just take you straight to Watanabe? Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Katsuo snarled. He shook Makoto, his head smacked against the bricks. Katsuo moved away, watching Makoto's weight come out from under him. He put his head between his knees and groaned.
Katsuo reached into his blazer pocket and tossed a sheathed pocket knife to Naseru. He caught it easily and winced. Katsuo wanted him to stab Makoto? No way!
"Put that to his back. We're moving," Katsuo commanded.
Naseru helped Makoto to his feet. He stumbled forward, unsteadily staggering. He grimaced, skin pale. Naseru held the sheathed plastic to Makoto's back. Enough to make Katsuo believe it.
They walked single-file through a hole in a chain-link fence and crossed a dilapidated construction site, probably home to dozens of squatters and rough sleepers. They'd mind their own business. No wonder Katsuo had gotten away with this.
One by one, Katsuo, Makoto and Naseru slipped into another alley, an otherwise dead end, which faced the back entrance of a massage parlour. Katsuo took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and turned to Naseru.
"Give me the knife."
Naseru swallowed and handed it back. He visibly relaxed when Katsuo put it back in his pocket. But his hackles rose when he spun on his heel and punched Makoto in the nose, a perfect hit between his eyes. Makoto let out a cry, stumbling back into Naseru's arms. Naseru's eyes widened and he dropped his arms. Makoto fell back onto the floor. His nose immediately started gushing blood, spatter landing all over the gravel outside.
"Tsk tsk," a man said, crossing his arms. He was a squat man with a prominent beer belly and unruly chest hair, showing from under a sweat-stained vest. He was in his mid-thirties wearing an open, unbuttoned, gaudy orange Hawaiian shirt, and a fedora. He was guarding the door, to the only building in this alley.
Katsuo brushed his knuckles down and turned to the man at the door, "The witness becomes a product."
The man nodded, shuffling away from the door, "And him?"
"He's a Lionfish."
The man nodded, stepping aside and allowing them in, "Kurosaki, get Hinami to be a dear and turn the music up. The birds have been singing all day."
The hallway at the back of the massage parlour was narrow, like it had been fashioned between walls. You could barely walk single-file down it. As Katsuo walked through the hall, he drummed on the walls a series of taps, raps and slaps on the plaster. Naseru raised an eyebrow.
"Morse code," Katsuo whispered, repeating the series of slaps and smacks. As he walked, Naseru could hear the drum and bass music in the adjacent rooms getting louder.
Naseru raised his eyebrows. This was more sophisticated than he had given Katsuo credit for.
At the end of the narrow wall-like passageway, there were six nails. Three simply stuck out, but hanging from the other ones were plastic Halloween masks, caricatures of the devil in his shiny, rubber faced gloy looked down at them. Katsuo handed one mask to Naseru and put one on for himself. With the stinky mask over Naseru's nose, he felt strangely empowered, powerful even. Because he was anonymous. He looked over at Katsuo and thought he could feel it too, he stood taller, bigger, broader, like he was suddenly imbued with the strength of twelve men. Katsuo flexed his shoulder muscles and turned to the supposedly dead-end wall, beside the nails, where there was a piece of corkboard.
He shoved it and it swung away, revealing a flight of stairs. The light was on. The steps were wet, sticky underfoot and getting covered in more and more of Makoto's blood. Naseru watched Makoto pushed by Katsuo.
The staircase took up most of the room, it was poky and dank downstairs, a saggy, ratty sofa with exposed padding and fraying, stained floral fabric was partially stuffed underneath the sofa, one of the arms, the one under the stairs, had been sawn off. Katsuo shoved Makoto onto the sofa. He sank into the cushions and blinked tears away.
Naseru's eyes flickered across the room, random green shards of glasses, not completely tidied away littered the sticky, concrete floor. Parallel to the staircase was a series of wall-mounted set of tools, seemingly random, but none were without uses, pliers, a wrench, several crowbars, one of which was on the floor, a cattle brand, a baseball bat and garden shears.
Katsuo pulled his knife out of his pocket and pointed it at Makoto. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, sending spittle flying across the room. Three other boys, each wearing a different school uniform from the prefecture made their way out of a poky adjoining room, dragging two topless middle school boys along with them. The two that had tried to prevent a kidnapping. One, wearing a distinctive purple blazer, one of the private school kids, kicked the nearest of the two middle schoolers, a swift upward move like he was playing soccer, not kicking a kid in the balls. The boy whimpered and fell to the floor, knocking the other kid down with him.
The three high school boys crossed their arms and stared at Katsuo, expectantly. They were all wearing that same caricature of the devil over their faces.
"They're not cooperating about their addresses," the biggest of the three said, he had bleached blond hair, that was buzzed at the sides. His massive arms were bulging at the seams of his navy blue gakuran. Katsuo nodded, and walked across the length of the tiny room. It took him maybe three steps to cross the room and remove a baseball bat from one of the rungs on the wall.
"Cooperating?" Makoto whispered, "They're kids, what were you sickos wanting them to do?"
Katsuo let out a breathy laugh and tossed his knife to an underling, who cut his palm, grabbing the wrong end. The underling swore, hissing through his teeth, sending blood spatter across the room. The other two rolled their eyes and stared at Makoto. Katsuo pulled him to his feet with his blazer, tearing the collar.
A shrill, ear-splitting scream echoed through the dank room as if it had come from beneath them. Naseru dug his nails into his palms but Makoto was quick, he threw his body weight down, completely tearing his collar from his blazer and looked under the sofa a baby monitor sat beneath the shabby thing. He reached under there, hands grasping for it but failing to get anything. He was wrenched away by Katsuo's subordinates, throwing him on the floor. Natsuo jumped back a step and gawked at them. Katsuo brandished the baseball bat, threatening the topless middle schoolers with it. The boys whimpered.
Makoto was covered in nicks, and broken glass sticking out of punctures in his skin. The three boys, Katsuo's underlings continued to kick him.
"The fuck is this fucker," one of the underlings, in a grey blazer demanded. His hair was styled in a rat tail which swung down his back, stringy and matted. He was greasy and had a nasty kick from his steel-capped boots. He stomped on Makoto's palm and Naseru could hear at least three of his bones splintering under the guy's weight.
Katsuo slung the bat over his shoulder and strode back to Naseru, throwing an arm around his shoulder. He squeezed him tightly. Naseru's lip curled upward behind his mask.
"This, my friend, is our new supervisor, Matsuoka Morisuno from the Tokyo Lionfish. One of the new, key stakeholders in our operation."
Naseru wrenched himself out of Katsuo's grip and twisted his arm, dislodging it from his socket. Katsuo cried out, yelping in surprise and pain as Naseru pulled him down onto his knees. He swung his leg back so it collided with the side of Katsuo's face and he fell face first, just inches away from Makoto.
The three underlings let out a collective gasp, staring at Katsuo, who moaned, his dislocated shoulder hanging limply by his side. He tried to get back to his feet but couldn't support his weight on both hands and fell back down.
Naseru snatched the baseball bat and strode back, confidently to the corner, blocking a wall of potential weapons with his body. He waited as the underlings slunk crossed the floor. The biggest of the three swung at Naseru first. He ducked and swung the bat at the boy's kneecaps without hesitation. He hissed through his teeth, grabbed Naseru by the blazer and raised his fist to punch him. Naseru leaned forward, slipping outside of the jacket and freed himself from the student's grip. Naseru glared enraged behind his mask and smacked the bat against his palm. He swung again, the bat smacking the back of the guy's neck. He keeled over groggily crying pained.
The other two were next. Naseru sidestepped around the guy in the purple blazer and raised his fists to the guy in the grey gakuran, kicking the baseball bat away. He immediately swung for Naseru's face. Naseru ducked his head and aimed his fist at the spot beneath his adversary's chin. He punched him again. Square in the neck, knocking the air out of him and his windpipe. Naseru swung his legs around and toppled him over. He fell on a piece of glass and moaned.
The guy in the purple blazer was tentative, lithe and careful with each step. He moved on his toes, like the fight was a dance, and successfully landed the first punch. Naseru had fallen for a feint like in basketball all over again. The rings on the guy's fingers scored Naseru's face tearing at his lip and nose, leaving indents, and impressions and nicking the skin. Naseru rose his knee and aimed for the boy's stomach, and when the guy grabbed his leg, Naseru grabbed his hair, pulling his hair, knocking him off kilter. They both broke apart. Until someone swung the bat at him.
One of the middle schoolers had hit him square in the jaw with the bat, and probably knocked a few teeth out with that shot. He spat on his face and slapped his hands together, "Motherfucker,"
Naseru raised his brows, impressed.
"I'm not a Lionfish," Naseru said, raising his hands in mock-surrender.
"Yeah," the more battered of the two boys said, prising a piece of glass out of his arm, eyes welling with tears, "I gathered that. Why else would you beat the shit out of your business partners."
Naseru nodded, crossing the room and putting his hands on Makoto's shoulders, gently shaking him by the shoulders. Makoto moaned, opening his eyes, "Is that you Na-"
"Yep," Naseru said, gently helping him back to his feet, "Those assholes are out for the count. I reckon those two know where the girls are. Call the cops, yeah?"
"Mhm," Makoto whimpered, "Is there a girl called Hiroko here?"
The two middle schoolers shared a glance and nodded, "Yeah, she's here."
Makoto visibly relaxed. Naseru looked over at the kids, "Show me where they are?"
They pointed to a door padlocked shut. Naseru trod over the unconscious wannabe gangsters to retrieve some bolt cutters and prised the door open, "You're safe now! Nothing's gonna happen to you!"
The first girl, one Naseru didn't recognise, slunk forward. Her mouth was bound with a cheap ball gag, gnawed on stubbornly, and her face was covered in her own spit. Her hands were bound with a zip tie and her eyes were blindfolded with rubber snorkel goggles, covered in brown packing tape. Naseru squinted. All the girls were in similar condition, mouths gagged shut with something or other, most had pieces of fabric some had ball gags. Naseru carefully helped prise the gag off her head, unfastening the buckles. He didn't have anything for the zip ties, but the first girl was just happy to be able to see, and to breathe. She watched a girl with dark hair move to the front. She'd scratched up her own face, likely trying to get her own gag out of her mouth. Naseru didn't manage to stop her, but did grab the elastic behind her goggles, and tug the top upward until the elastic snapped in two, falling off her face. Her eyeliner had pooled under her eyes, where the goggles sat, making her look comically like a panda. But there was ferocity there. She shoved past Naseru, barefoot and topless and walked into the centre of the room, to where the unconscious battered thugs lay. She reared her head back and spat on them.
Makoto got to his feet and shrugged his blazer off. He draped it over the girl's shoulders, covering her exposed chest and the few angry bruises from fingers covered her arms. She looked around the room and a fierce, choked-out gasp came out of her mouth.
"Makoto, oh my god," she cried. He pulled her close to him and hugged her close.
"The police will be here any minute," he declared, "I've called the police. They're coming!"
Naseru froze and looked over at Makoto. He crossed the room in two confident strides and clapped his classmate on the shoulder and ascended the stairs. He didn't want to take this moment of heroism from him.
Naseru slipped out of the building and down an alley stuffing his Halloween mask in his pocket. He'd torch it. He didn't want it but there was DNA evidence on it. He didn't want to be associated with this. Vigilantee-ism was better, he figured.
He didn't notice that there was someone else watching him as he fled the scene. Hidden behind a lamppost and a vending machine was Kaho, peeking out behind a shield of soft drinks. Naseru removed his plastic mask and bolted, far out of sight. She frowned and watched him go as the sirens grew closer and closer, a cacophony of approaching justice.
Karaoke had been a bust, there were no rooms available, and while the others sought fun elsewhere, Kaho had seen Makoto, Naseru and Katsuo slip down an alley and felt something in the pit of her stomach screaming to follow.
Kaho put her hands to her face and sighed. It was going to be much harder to keep him out of trouble if sirens were already pursuing him. How was she supposed to get him to join the basketball team like that? She groaned and trudged along after him.