Chapter 4: This Suffering


He was conscious of the wad of cash tucked snugly in his shorts pocket all the way home. After unlocking the door (his mother was working, fortunately), he headed to his closet, parting his clothes apart to reveal the things he'd collected the night before. 12 cans of beer, 3 packs of cigarettes, the perfect statement.

His only regret was that he didn't have a video of everyone's reactions when he unveiled the goods (quite stylishly, too, if he could say so himself). Wada's was the funniest – his eyes bugged out, he gasped, and he even jumped up a little. Maki leaned forward with interest, masking several coughs. Cap sucked in a breath, and Shogo reached out to touch it, but stopped himself. Only Takan shrunk back slightly.

"You go first, Fudou," he said dubiously, spreading one arm out over the contents of the plastic bag. "You did bring it, after all." Fudou wasn't fooled by his act one bit, but he saw no reason not to do so. He grabbed a can of beer and flicked the tab up. The click was loud and fizz started to bubble out of the can. He took a sip and hid his grimace. It was bitter. But at the same time, it wasn't the bad kind of bitter.

He grinned and gestured grandiosely at his goods.

"Well. Shall we?"


"Blah!"

Fudou barely stifled a snicker as Wada spat out the drink. Leaning back against the brick wall, he nursed his own can of beer and watched Wada sputter and spit.

"This is disgusting, Fudou, how can you even drink this stuff? It's bitter, and it's so fizzy!"

"Sprite is fizzy."

"Sprite is SWEET!" Wada spat again, a few more times, before reaching into his pack and taking out a bottle of water. He took several large gulps before he finally picked the can up again to take another sip.

"Wanna try some, Shogo?"

Giving Wada a sceptical glance, Shogo nonetheless accepted the can and gulped. His eyebrows quirked.

"I don't know what you're on, Wada-san. I think this tastes pretty good."

Wada scoffed. "Well then, you can have it, if you like it. It's probably just me. Everyone else seems to like it. I thought you had cigarettes, Fudou?"

Fudou grinned. It was time for his trump card. 3 packs of cigarettes was more than enough for everybody. Flipping open the box with his thumbnail, he gave a cigarette to Wada. He took another one for himself and lit it, keeping the flame alive for the others. Setting his beer can on the ground, he passed the cigarette box around to the rest of the group, noting with pleasure that everyone, even Maki, took one.

He brought it to his mouth and inhaled. The smoke tasted pretty damn good, and he managed to stop the cough coming up in its tracks. The smoke tickled his throat, but at the same time, it sent waves of relaxation through his mind. No wonder his father always had a cigarette. He exhaled slowly, watching the cloud of smoke fill the air above Shogo's head.

In good humour, he gave the lighter to Takan.

"Light it, c'mon."

Takan held the cigarette like it was some sort of alien specimen and lit it, placing it into his mouth. No sooner than he had done that did he immediately start coughing. Dropping both the cigarette and the lighter, Takan doubled over, his body shaking as he gave several more coughs. Fudou and the others watched him, fascinated, as the coughs subsided and he straightened up again. His gaze roved over them and he had the decency to look embarrassed – everyone, even Maki, was already puffing away.

"Real smooth, Takan," Fudou said, giving him a sardonic smirk. "You want a new cig?"

"Nah," Takan replied, ears pink. He dropped into a sitting position again and leaned forward to pick his fallen cigarette up. "Pass the lighter though."


Fudou was on his third cigarette when Shogo suddenly gave out a loud belch. Wada immediately turned towards him, and Shogo belched again, his cheeks and ears red, but the rest of his features pale.

"I don't... feel too good."

Inwardly, Fudou cursed. He should have known that giving the kid one whole can would be too much for him to handle.

He threw his half-done cigarette to the ground and scuffed it with the toe of his sneakers. "Do you feel like puking?"

"I don't know. For real," Shogo replied uneasily. He was leaning on the wall, taking quick, shallow breaths. Nobody else moved. Wada was watching Shogo, a concerned expression on his face, but that was about as good as it got. Takan stayed put, and the dick actually seemed glad now that he wasn't the only one to mess up. The other two were lost in their own little world. Maki, glossy-eyed, blew out a torrent of smoke before inhaling again deeply, and Cap had a funny little smile on his face.

Maybe he was blessed with good genes, because he felt completely clear-headed and not even the slightest bit wheezy. Probably the same genes that had drawn his dad to these things, actually.

"I'm gonna take Shogo home." He tossed the cigarette box to Wada, who snatched it up with an eager grin. This was his crew now, and he supposed it was partially his responsibility since he'd provided the tobacco and alcohol. Besides, Shogo was just a kid.

"Actually, scratch that. Wada, come with me. You know where he lives, right?"

Wada, who had been in the middle of lighting another cigarette, paused, before turning towards him reluctantly. Fudou's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Wada. Don't be such a pussy. There's plenty of that where it came from. Shogo's your brother, ain't he?"

"...Yeah," Wada conceded. When he stood up, Fudou felt a vicious stab of satisfaction in his heart. How quickly things could change. Who was leading who around now?

He cast a glance backwards at the rest of the group.

"Y'all can have the rest of the box. No need to thank me now."


Wada grew noticeably more skittish as they approached the neighbourhood where Fudou had first encountered the two. Funnily enough, the same teen with the phone was still there, pouring words through her phone with a mournful expression on her face. Apart from her, the area was as empty as ever.

Though he was supported on the shoulders of the two boys, Shogo still swayed around and occasionally let out soft giggles. He was babbling now, talking about goldfish or rainbow salmons or robot animes or whatever it was that interested kids nowadays. He'd started talking nonstop around twenty minutes ago, and Fudou had started screening his voice out after about two.

"Dude. Fudou." Wada's sudden serious tone surprised Fudou, and he had to double check to make sure that the voice he'd just heard was actually him. "We can't let him be seen like this. We've got to make him look less drunk."

Fudou shrugged as much as he could without letting Shogo's arm fall off. "Parents?"

"Not just that." Wada abruptly stopped, jerking Fudou back with him. "We should get out of this neighbourhood before anyone sees him, actually."

Fudou's curiosity was piqued now, even as he was dragged along by a newly determined Wada. "What's up? What's so special about Shogo-kun?" They passed the empty parks and playgrounds, and the lovesick girl with relationship problems, Wada not speaking along the way and Fudou knowing not to press matters just then. Meanwhile, Shogo punctuated the silence with the sound effects of guns and laser beams that Fudou could only assume were from the robot anime. They walked further, Fudou allowing himself to be dragged into the random twists and turns Wada was taking. Eventually, after a myriad of turns ("Hey, you can never be too safe!"), they were well out of the area. Fudou recognised a few buildings and was beginning to get a feel of where they were now, closer to the rougher parts of town that he called home. Not the best part of town, and that was a euphemism.

"All right, we're pretty damn far away now. Now can you say what's up with the kid?"

Wada snorted and coughed. "Shogo is just a stupid kid," he said, his words almost drowned out by said kid randomly deciding to start singing. "But his family is pretty big-shot. Shogo really admires and talks big about his older brother for a good reason."

"And so?" Fudou asked, unimpressed. He wasn't about to give Shogo special treatment just because of his family.

"If anyone who knows Shogo sees him like this, it would get..." Wada paused, searching for the right word, "complicated."

"Huh."

"The kid doesn't like mentioning it, but he's rich. His parents are actually somebody. It would be bad for him, and for us, if they find out that we're the one who made him this way."

I was the one who gave him the alcohol and cigs, Fudou thought, but didn't correct him aloud. "How do you know this?" he asked, as the boys headed to an empty park bench and sat down, Shogo still giggling in between them. It was going to be a long wait.

Wada shrugged and stretched his arms out to the sky. "I just hang around with him. You hear things. Stuff happens. You know." He stretched, and looked up at the clouds above. It was clear to Fudou that he was being vague, but he didn't push the issue. Shogo's blabbers became nothing more than white noise to as both boys settled in to wait this out.


"Riko," Mr. Fudou said too neutrally during dinner time a few weeks later.

Fudou's mother looked up, annoyance already beginning to cloud her face. "What is it, Takeshi? If this is about money again, I swear-"

"Look, I didn't ask for this," Mr. Fudou started, getting angry himself. "This whole thing started because of my boss. We're stuck in this now, and we've got to get through it, but I just want to ask one thing of you. Stop painting me as the villain." His eyes flickered briefly to his son. "I'm not blind or deaf. I know what you're saying. We're not living like we did before, but I'm working hard to get there. I'm trying, Riko." He stared at her earnestly.

"Takeshi," she said, a little uncertainly. "Are you drunk?" Her expression was hurt before turning dark. "I thought I told you to lay off the beer."

Mr. Fudou gaped, then threw his hands into the air. "First you nag at me about our family. Then you pull this." He pushed his chair back, stood up, and turned his back. "I'm trying, Riko. I need you to try too."

And with that, Fudou had had enough. He too stood up and met his parents' subsequent gaze.

"I'm going to take the trash out." He plodded out, movements almost robotic.

Outside, he wasted no time. He hoisted the rubbish bag up and headed to the tip, before sitting down and getting ready to do a good job.

The sag at the corner told him that yes, there were beer cans in there. His dad was still bringing them home. He was still fighting his mum. A mixture of disappointment and satisfaction swirled within, but he didn't let them fester for long.

He first retrieved a pocket torch from his pocket and switched it on, putting it in his mouth. Then he donned a pair of medical gloves, and quickly sifted through the household waste.

The first thing he went for was the obvious culprit: the beer. Setting the cans aside, he then began to sift more carefully, using his torch to illuminate his search. There was no sugar-coating it: this job was pretty disgusting. All sorts of wet and dry waste mingled together to create a horrific smell, and some of the trash had turned a suspicious swampy texture. Still, it was worth it for the money. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the familiar cigarette logo and the corner of a cigarette pack. There was only one pack this time, but it was still unopened and unaffected by its surroundings. Pulling it out of the slush, Fudou stood up and ripped his gloves off, throwing them into the rubbish. The beer and cigs went into one bag and then he was off to the creek for a wash job. That was another delivery accounted for and a couple more thousand yen in the bag.

It crossed his mind his method and source for his poison was a bit suspect, but a simple wash would probably make it fine. After all, it's not like he didn't drink the beer and smoke the cigs. And he was still alive.


The next day, he carried the bag to Cap's house, their meeting point for the week. He had barely turned the corner from his house when an older man stepped in his way. It took him a few beats to recognise him as his father's friend from the week before.

He tried to walk past him, giving him only the weakest of nods (because he was feeling polite), but the man put a hand on his shoulder.

Fudou shook it off angrily. "Look, I don't know you," he began. "So keep your hands off me."

"Just allow me to introduce myself," the strange man said. The urgency in his tone was creeping him out, and the grip on his shoulder was tightening. Alarm bells were ringing at top volume in his head. The man was talking, but Fudou wasn't listening and he finally wrenched himself out of his grip.

"What's in those bags?" the man suddenly asked, suspicion seeping into his tone.

"None of your business," he answered automatically, and made to leave again.

The man's next words stopped him. "If that's what I think it is, you should know that it's illegal for minors to possess alcohol."

"You're crazy," Fudou replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Who do you think you are? Just because you're my dad's friend doesn't mean you can boss me around." He turned his back on the man, resolving to go another way since this guy was so intent on stopping him.

"What?" the guy said. "I think you've made a mistake. I'm actually-"

Fudou whirled around. "I don't care who you are. All I know is that it's none of your business what I or my mother do. So just go away and leave us in peace. Just meet up with my father outside in a cafe or something. And I won't answer any more of your questions, or show you what's in my bag. You've got no right to force me to answer."

The man was unruffled. "I'm actually a social worker. The police sent me here to follow up on your case." He must have seen the shock on his face, because his next question was tinged with a faint hint of triumph. "Fudou Akio-kun, am I right?"

"I don't care who you are," he answered, though he spoke more carefully this time. "And I gotta go. I'm late for a party." He turned and stalked away, his heart beating fast, half-expecting a stern hand to land on his shoulder at any moment. Eventually he turned a corner, and snuck a peek through the corner of his eye.

The man was nowhere to be seen.


He finally reached his destination and rang the doorbell. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Wada.

"Hey, Fudou!" he greeted him with a big smile. "You brought the stuff?"

"Mm," Fudou cut him off noncommittally, and navigated through Cap's house to his room. The cash was sitting in a neat pile on the table as always, and he pocketed it. The gang looked back at him from the TV screen.

"Check this out, guys." Cap gestured at the screen. "Raimon Middle High's in another match against the aliens."

Fudou, interested despite being unwilling, left his bag against the wall and lowered himself into a sitting position, eyes on the screen. One of the forwards, the white-haired one, the violent one he remembered, was being substituted with a weedy-looking wimp of a boy. That was odd, to say the least. He walked fine, so he wasn't injured. Why would he be subbed off in such an important match?

Then the alien goalkeeper switched positions with one of his forwards. Fudou scoffed. Now this game was just getting ridiculous.

Cap looked at him strangely. "Thought you didn't know how to play, Fudou."

Fudou became guarded. "I know how to play it." Which was true.

"Really," Cap said, and his tone was the closest to interested he had ever heard from him. "You should play with us on Sunday. We do a weekly thing, just a friendly, not too serious."

Fudou was about to open his mouth to reply, when something on TV caught his attention. The alien goalie-turned-forward took a shot. It wasn't a bad shot by any means – it was beautiful, it got past Endou's perfect defence, and it left a sick, bitter taste in Fudou's mouth.

"No, I'm good," he said abruptly. "I don't want to play football this year."

"If you say so. Okay." Cap shrugged and conceded.

Half-time came and went, and the game seemed to be getting better. Of course, that meant that Raimon was doing worse. There was even one glorious moment when the alien forward's shot knocked a bunch of people, including (no, especially) Kidou, over like bowling pins.

And then Endou saved the alien's shot, a fierce look on his face. Fudou knew that look. It was the same look he'd had when he'd saved Emperor Penguin No. 1. And then some kid wearing an orange hoodie stepped into the game. It was nauseating. Sickeningly sweet. It stopped the game temporarily, and was completely against regulation. Exceptions were being made for Raimon, as usual. The audience started to cheer and the announcer went crazy.

Fudou shrank back from the TV.

"Turn it off."

"What?"

"You heard me!" He whirled on Cap, who held both hands up in alarm. "Turn it off."

"What? No," Cap frowned at him. "The rest of us are having fun watching the game."

Fudou pushed Cap, who staggered backwards, having not expected it. His lips were drawn back in a snarl and he raised a hand before he felt himself being dragged back by a few people.

"Come on, Fudou. You're being unreasonable," Maki interjected in between the cheers of the audience.

Fudou was breathing heavily now, his heart rate skyrocketing before he knew it. Taking a deep breath, he stalked towards the door. "Look. It's simple. If you don't turn it off, I'm just going to leave, and I'm taking the bag with me."

Immediately, Wada pounced on his bag, extracting the relevant items and passing them around. Cap shrugged at Fudou, still shaken, but switched off the TV.

"Well, Mr. High and Mighty," he asked. "Since you don't want to watch footy, what do we do now?"

"Actually," a small voice broke in, and a moment passed before Fudou realised that Takan was actually there. There was an odd smile on his normally timid face. Hesitantly, he reached into his inner pocket and took out a small zip-lock bag, with 4 sakura-coloured pills in it.

"Look what I got."


Next chapter: What does Takan have, indeed? He's definitely not bluffing. It's definitely the real deal.