The Drowning City (Tokyo Noir Book 1)
Page 17
He wanted to stay away from home. He didn’t want to go there, for reasons that weren’t quite clear to him. But the longer he was out, the longer he was pursued, the more it kept pulling him. After a while, it started to feel inevitable, like he was running out of side streets and back alleys to run down. Before long, he knew that he had no choice. That he had to go home, that the way out lay there.
And so, unable to avoid it any longer, he opened the door to the home he shared with Hisoka and fell inside. He lay panting on the ground, sucking in air in ragged gulps. He looked up when he heard someone gasp. He saw her there—Hisoka. Staring at him with eyes huge with terror. He got up and went to her, but she just shrank away. One of her thin arms instinctively covered the recent bulge of her belly, the other feeling the wall as she backed away from him.
And then the rage filled him with a white-hot intensity. As she recoiled, he advanced, until he was looming over her. She was shaking her head and mouthing some feeble protest. But it was no matter. Because right now, he wanted to hurt someone he loved. And the way to do that was right in front of him. He reached out and took Hisoka by the neck as his other hand brought up the blade. She began to scream, and the darkness that had been just out of reach swallowed him.
When it was over, he sat there, neither happy nor sad. The only feeling in him was that it was done. He looked from the crumpled body at his side to his blood-soaked hands. He felt like he should feel something now, but nothing came. No, that wasn’t quite right. He felt like the scales had been balanced. Like a wrong had been … not righted, but avenged.
He realized then, as he stared at his shaky hands sticky with hot blood, that he was the horror lurking in the shadows.
And there was no escaping him.
Satoshi stood in the massive courtyard to the sprawling temple complex. Sengaku Temple was in the middle of Tokyo, but it might as well have been a different world. It was an oasis of calm, self-reflective quiet and peace within a hive of people and concrete. He looked up and saw skyscrapers looming in from every direction, wreathed in the heavy fog that blanketed the sky.
He was still shaken from Takeshi’s death. And the dream he had awoken to this morning had unnerved him further still. It was sometimes like that after using Dextro-MXE, but usually not that bad. He must have taken too large of a dose. That would explain the jittery, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then again, maybe that was just nerves. After all, he was going to see Masa today for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t looking forward to the encounter.
Of course, he still had no idea whether Masa would even show up or not. Regardless, he passed through the brilliant red temple building that led into the grounds. He never remembered any of the temples being this showy when he was growing up, but lately it seemed that every temple, shrine, and torii gate had been given a bright paint job to make it stand out. He figured it was because the added splash of color helped to make up for the constant gray from the skies above. Or possibly so the holy wouldn’t be entirely obscured by the mundane.
Once inside, he walked over to the water fountain and picked up the ladle. He washed his left hand, then his right, then rinsed his mouth and spat the water onto the ground. Once cleansed, Satoshi began wandering through the temple grounds, following the concrete paths that led around the inner courtyard. He walked for several minutes, silently wondering how long he would wait for Masa to show.
The inside of the temple grounds was largely deserted, save for a few priests. Even these figures barely seemed real, barely more than phantoms in the mist. The dense fog hanging heavy in the air made it impossible to see the opposite side of the courtyard.
After a few more minutes, Satoshi came to a twisted pine tree ensconced behind a low fence made of bamboo tubes that had been lashed together. The tree was warped beyond all recognition, its black trunk and branches tracing a torturous path through the air. Its nettles were more ash-gray than green. He was starting to hope that Masa wouldn’t show.
As he stared at the twisted tree, the temple bell sounded a deep and solemn tone that startled some birds to flight from a nearby tree. Satoshi turned at the noise and watched them depart, and as did he became aware of a figure approaching him through the mist.
He heard the crunching of feet over the gravel as the person came directly at him, eschewing the concrete path in favor of the direct route. After a moment, the wind blew and the fog cleared enough to reveal the approaching figure. Even with his heavy overcoat and respirator mask, he was unmistakable.
Masa.
Masa stopped in front of him and pushed his respirator aside to reveal his face. It was the same face Satoshi had known since childhood, though older now, and more deeply scarred. Masa stood almost a full head shorter than Satoshi, with close-cropped hair that was creeping away from his forehead. His eyes, at times lively and impish, were now impassive and cloudy. His skin had a dark tint that was almost Okinawan. A deep scar started up just under his left eye and traveled the length of his face before ending halfway down his neck, right above where his tattoos took over.
The two of them stood there for a long moment, staring at one another without speaking.
“Well? You’ve conjured me, and here I am.” Masa said. “Surely you had a reason.”
Satoshi nodded. He started to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Already things weren’t going as he had planned. But then, that seemed to happen a lot when he was around Masa.
“How are you?” Satoshi finally managed.
“Fine. You?”
“Been better. Look, I wanted—”
“What is this about, Satoshi? What are you dying to say to me all of a sudden? An apology, maybe?”
Satoshi’s gaze drifted out over the temple grounds. The fog cleared momentarily, revealing the sloping roof of the main gate. Then the wind blew and it was obscured in fog once more.
“I was told to bring you in.”
“By who? The Rock?”
Satoshi nodded. Masa scratched his jaw and eyed Satoshi. He didn’t look at all surprised.
“Well, if you brought me here to watch me plead for my life, you—”
“That’s not why I called you here. I need you to tell me why. What does Vasili want with you?”
“To kill me, I imagine.”
“For what? What did you do?”
“Why do you instantly assume that?”
“Because of who I’m talking to. Does this have something to do with all those jobs you’ve been doing for the big man lately?”
Masa didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his gaze towards the corner of the grounds, towards the graves. He tilted his head in that direction.
“Let’s take a walk.”
Masa began walking without waiting for an answer. Satoshi shook his head, but followed.
Masa glided past the wooden barrier encircling the cemetery in this corner of the grounds. He began walking amongst the rows of roughly hewn stones that served as graves for the samurai entombed below. Wooden slats stood by each grave, with the names of the samurai written in ancient kanji rendered in florid calligraphy.
“You know, I’ve always loved it here,” Masa said.
“Among the graves?”
“The graves of the forty-seven Ronin. These men lost their leader, Asano. Then they waited years for the perfect opportunity to take their vengeance and kill his murderer. And for that loyalty, that bravery, that … devotion, their names will ring out for all eternity.”
Satoshi walked with Masa around the graves a few paces back.
“Their bravery has made these warriors immortal. Their loyalty is still talked of to this day. Probably because loyalty is in such short supply these days. Take you, for example. My best friend, who’s considering turning me in to be put to death.”
“Dammit, Masa, it’s not that easy!”
“Loyalty never is!” Masa shouted loud enough that his voice echoed throughout the grounds.
“What did you do?”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t do anything! And that’s the problem!”
“What didn’t you do then? Tell me what he wants with you. Maybe I can help.”
“Speak up for me? Last time I asked you to do that, you turned your back on me.” His voice was pure venom. He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to calm himself, then he resumed speaking in a much quieter voice. “Look, I can’t tell you. If you knew what I knew, you’d be a target too.”
Satoshi regarded him. “You can tell me anything, you know that. Vasili trusts me, he wouldn’t go after me for … whatever.”
“You have no idea.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the serial killer, does it?”
Masa didn’t reply.
“Are you the killer?”
Again, Masa didn’t reply, but he looked hurt by the accusation. He began shaking his head.
“You know, Satoshi, you’ve always loved to look down on me. You’ve always loved to play the hero, the stand-up guy, the white knight. But deep down we’re not so different, you and I. Like I always say, two sides of the same coin.”
“No, Masa. You changed, somewhere along the way. You’ve gotten … darker. I stayed right where I was.”
“So you’re going to turn me in, then?”
“Goddammit, I don’t want to do this! But you’ve got to give me a reason not to!”
“You have all the reasons you need not to do this. You know I’m not the killer—”
“Do I?”
“—and you know this is wrong.” He swept the graves around them with his gaze. “Loyalty is only worth a damn if the master you serve has honor. And maybe Vasili has you fooled, but I saw a different side of him when I was his personal gun. And if you think I’m dark …” Masa shook his head and looked away as he trailed off.
“This coming from the guy who practically worshipped that psychopath Osammy.”
“I guess we all have to decide where our allegiances lie. So tell me, Satoshi, what master do you serve?”
Satoshi didn’t answer. Masa looked away and spat in disgust.
“Well, good luck bringing me to my death, then,” Masa said. “Because you are going to fucking need it.”
Masa turned around and began walking away. Soon he was gone, swallowed whole by the swirling fog.
Satoshi stood there staring after him. He was sick to his stomach, and felt like a traitor. A traitor whose days were numbered. He took out his phone and dialed.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’ll do it,” he said before hanging up.
He looked around the nearly deserted temple grounds. From somewhere off in the distance, he heard crows cawing. But the fog rolling in left everything shrouded in a suffocating murkiness that was too thick to see through. He lingered for a moment longer before setting off into the gathering dusk.
He could barely see where he was going now. No matter. He could see the path of stones ahead and trusted that it would guide him through.
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Offer
Quotation
The Future
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Last Chance
Thank You