Tomo hid on the roof of Sakaki's old house while the realtor showed a young married couple the rooms, commenting on the appropriateness of raising a family there. Tomo had her belongings with her, all stuffed in her bag, and she was sure she did a good job hiding her presence. She could hear the realtor below, answering the wife's question about the back yard.
"It would be an excellent place to grow a garden," the realtor said.
Tomo imagined dropping a water balloon on the people below, but of course it would blow her cover. She didn't have any water balloons anyway. The couple expressed interest in the house, and promised to call the realtor when they came to their decision. Tomo came down off the roof after they left, jumping first on the brick fence, and then jumping to the ground below.
The house served her well. The realtor company kept the water and electricity on for demonstration purposes, and Tomo took careful advantage of that. Eventually they'd get a bill and be suspicious. Tomo fought the urge to turn the heat up, and kept it at a careful seventeen Celsius. She had gotten used to being cold while running around with Danube and Kleon, so she could handle it.
What she couldn't handle was being bored. When she realized Sakaki's mail was still being delivered, she gleefully checked each day to see what she would get. She got a veterinarian magazine, which was boring, and a cat magazine for children, which was a little scary. Still she went through each magazine multiple times.
She was barely there four days when the SOLD sign when up. The next day, a moving truck pulled up to the sidewalk, and Tomo hastily exited. Once again, she had nowhere to go. She would've put an ad in the paper to catch Alekhine's attention, but she didn't even have the money for that, and that's assuming he'd keep true to his word.
She went through her items, and the only one she figured she could use was her broken watch, her first anniversary gift from Rico (there was also her wedding band, but she would die before she parted with that). Pawning it grew in her mind like mushrooms after a rain, and each time she kicked it away. I can endure, she thought. A phone number scrolled in her mind, one remembered from long ago, but she ignored it. She wouldn't want to see me again, Tomo thought. Even assuming that it's still active.
Boredom took her to Akihabara.
...
As per her old schedule, Tomo slept in alleys during the day, and stayed awake during the night. Not even Akihabara calmed down in the early morning, as there would still be throngs of people going from store to store. She would window shop constantly, and try out demos on the latest games. She learned where the public restrooms were, and took advantage of those during slow hours.
She browsed the book store, sometimes spending hours sitting and reading. In a snap she would jump out of her reading trance, shut the book, and leave the store. She lived with paranoia, and even the slightest tick of suspicion would send her fleeing.
She argued with herself, sometimes, if she could keep up the fugitive life she was living. One day, after having a dream where she and Torako were driving home for the night, just talking and enjoying each other's company, Tomo woke up shivering in the freezing cold evening, her stomach clawing at her over the absence of food. She had to mentally force herself to not cry. She inhaled through her nose and bit her lip. If she started, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop. This was the nadir of her fugitive experience.
She decided to pawn her broken watch.
...
It netted her eight thousand yen. She counted through it angrily, because she knew it was worth three times that, and she knew the pawnbroker knew it too. The first thing she did with her money was enter the Yomiuri Shimbun office and leave a simple, brief ad in the classifieds:
Alekhine. Akihabara. CenterNews Stand. Help. TT.
"And he better read it, too," she said aloud. She trotted out before she could be recognized. She bought herself a beautifully hot dinner of yakisoba at a stand. She went out into the cold night and even, briefly, considered buying a pillow and a blanket.
...
The pillow and blanket worked wonderfully, giving warm and soft sleep for a change, and Tomo woke up feeling surprisingly optimistic. She hoped her faith in Osaka's compatriot wouldn't be misplaced. It worked last time, she thought.
The early darkness of the winter evening was setting in, and Tomo quickly strolled to the CenterNews Stand where she'd browse the magazines. The old man that ran it ignored her and let her look through them unmolested.
She eyed the layout, found the latest issue of the Yomiuri Shimbun, and shouted, "Ugh!" It had a picture of Oda Otomo.
"What's that idiot up to?" she said, ignoring the displeased stares from passersby. She grabbed the paper and unfolded it. Oda, it seemed, was arguing for the repealing of article nine of the Japanese constitution. She eyed the other papers and saw pretty much the same news, including innuendo that China was planning aggressive maneuvers against Japan, and that the United States would not intercede.
"He's making this up," she muttered. Whoops, I better not talk out loud, it's freaking people out. She ignored the rest of the article and hunted for the classifieds. She peeled out that section from the rest of the paper.
"You better put that back the way you found it," the salesman said.
"Don't worry, I will," Tomo said. She scanned the index for the personals, and thumbed to that page. A yellow slip of paper fell out. She picked it up, glanced at it, and was about to stick it back in the paper when she read it again. It was the size of a magazine flyer, and set in the middle of the paper was the handwritten phrase, "Hold On." She flipped it over on the back. Nothing else was written on it but the hiragana on the front.
"Weird," she said. She stuck the slip back into the paper and found her ad, exactly as she had made it. Good, I didn't get ripped off. Now I just wait.
She rebuilt the newspaper under the watchful eye of the salesman, and placed it neatly on the rack. She stared at it longer, and grabbed another copy of the Yomiuri Shimbun behind it.
"It's the same thing," the salesman said. He shook his head. "Don't be ruing my papers, okay?"
"I'm not, I just need to check something. Sheesh."
She went to the classifieds – her ad was still there – but no yellow slip of paper with 'Hold On' written in big black letters on the front. She conscientiously, and perhaps a little contemptuously, rebuilt it before going to the next.
"Come on!" The salesman said.
The yellow slip of paper was in none of the newspapers. She went back to her original – ignoring the exaggerated sighs of the old salesman – and pulled out the yellow slip.
"Do you know anything about this?" she said, holding it to his face. He backed up a bit and took it out of her hand. He flipped it over.
"Nope, not my handwriting." He gave the slip back to Tomo.
"Well, what's it doing there?" she said. "It's not in the other ones."
"Who knows? Maybe one of the sorters left it there and forgot. Instructions to hold that specific copy, or something." He shrugged. "Is that why you were tearing my papers apart-"
The salesman straightened up. "Hello," he said, to someone behind Tomo.
Tomo felt a hand grip her arm a little too firmly. "Hey!" she shouted, trying to jerk her arm out of the vise grip. She turned around and saw a familiar looking uniformed policeman glaring down at her.
"Tomo Takino," he said. "You're coming with me."
Tomo kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over, and Tomo ran across the street.
She skidded around a corner and raced for the network of alleys and subway tunnels she had become so intimately familiar with over the past two weeks. I can lose him in there, she thought, her teeth gritted in furious concentration.
An arm shot out of a doorway she passed, and she ran into it. Her speed and the arm's anvil stiffness knocked her off her feet. She flew through the air and landed on her back with a thump that almost broke concrete.
She ignored the pain the best she could, but it was compounded by the officer who performed the clothesline maneuver grabbing her arms and flipping her over. His knee dug into the small of her back.
"Get off!" she shouted. "I had surgery! You're going to open my wound!"
"I'll be careful," the officer said. He forced her hands behind her back and cuffed her. He jerked her to her feet and pushed her into his patrol car, parked in front of a violently loud pachinko parlor.
Tomo sat in the back and fumed. She worked her fingers into her sleeves and felt for her handcuff key. Shortly afterwards, the officer she hit appeared around the corner. The sidewalk crowd parted as he made his way through, teeth grinding and fists clenched. Meanwhile, his partner radioed in their catch. He seemed oddly serious for a routine call.
"Weird," the officer muttered, clipping his mic on the holder. "Sorry about the clothesline," he said, turning to face Tomo. "I should've tripped you."
Tomo recognized his buck teeth. "Hey, you were in Ueno Park!" She spoke with comradely feeling, trying to prevent him from discovering that she was picking her lock.
"Yeah, Takeshi," he said, smiling. "We got promoted."
Tomo watched as the angry officer approached the car. It was Takeshi's partner, Ichizo, in the only mode Tomo ever saw him in: pissed off. He opened the door next to Tomo and grabbed her arm, pulling her out.
"Hey!" Tomo shouted. Takeshi rolled down the window.
"Hey, Ichizo, what are you doing?"
Ichizo flipped Tomo around, pried open her hand, and grabbed the key she had enfolded in her fingers. He checked her sleeve and pulled out a long, thin wire. He turned her around and stuck the items in front of her face.
"Assaulting an officer of a law-"
"That wasn't me! That was some other guy that hit you! I think it was Oda Otomo!"
"-and attempting to escape."
"Those aren't mine! You planted those! I'm innocent!"
"Add that to your murder charge and assault of the Prime Minister, and I think you'll be in jail for a long time."
"I was framed!" Tomo shouted, as Ichizo shoved her back in the car. When he was done, he got in the passenger side of the car.
"Take her in," he said.
"We've been ordered to wait," Takeshi said.
"Why?" Ichizo said.
"Why!" Tomo shouted.
"The PSIA are coming to pick her up."
Tomo screamed at the top of her lungs.
Ichizo turned around while his partner covered his own ears. "I will choke you out!" Ichizo said, jabbing a finger at her. "You can't get away like you did last time!"
"Let me out of here!" Tomo shouted. She tried to open the door by backing into it and using her cuffed hands to work the latch, but it, of course, was locked. She was so jittery with fear she didn't realize she had let out a whimper.
"You've been caught," Ichizo said. "Face it."
"Caught for what? I didn't do anything! False charges! Police brutality! Attica! Attica!"
"Shut up," Ichizo snarled. "Take your situation seriously for a change."
"If you're innocent, you have nothing to fear," Takeshi said. "So don't worry about it, okay?"
"Look," Tomo said in a loud whisper, "it's all a setup. There's no justice for me. Have you ever heard of the PSIA picking up Japanese citizens charged with common crimes before? Why would they be doing that now?"
Takeshi furrowed his brow. "It's your notoriety, I suppose. You did attack the Prime Minister, so maybe it's a national security issue."
"Don't talk to her," Ichizo said. "Here they come."
Two black suited agents appeared, dour and impersonal. They radiated waves of hate, which kept a dead zone of protection around them. Weeds growing in cracks in the pavement caught fire as they passed by.
"It doesn't matter," Ichizo said to the question in his mind. "We got our orders." The two officers left the car to talk to the men. Tomo desperately searched the back seat to the best of her limited ability, but found nothing to aide in her escape. The agents, two frostbitten slabs of cold and clinical duty, approached the car. Ichizo opened the door.
"No!" Tomo said, as she scooted to the other side. That door opened and Takeshi grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the patrol car.
"You're acting shameful," he whispered to her. "It'll be okay." The two black suited agents approached Tomo.
"Help!" Tomo shouted. "They're going to kill me! Help!" Akihabara, now lighting Technicolor neon in the sinking evening sun, gave the officers wide berth. It was an excitable and self-absorbed neighborhood that relentlessly pursued its own pleasure, the pleasure of material consumption. It paid no attention to Tomo's plea. The pedestrians out looking for a good bargain appraised the scene with little interest. It was just another criminal begging for her freedom.
Tomo went limp and Takeshi grunted as he used both hands to lift her up. "You're only making this worse for yourself," he said.
"They're going to kill me!" she shouted. Without any warning, one of the black suited agents nonchalantly walked up to Tomo and punched her in the stomach.
Tears broke from the corner of Tomo's eyes as she doubled over, gasping for air. The agent grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet, like an angry teacher at a recess full of unruly kids.
"Hey, that's not necessary," Takeshi said, holding his arm up as if he was going to stop what was happening.
"Don't," Ichizo said. He frowned and looked away.
The other black suited agent grabbed Tomo's spare arm and smirked at the two officers. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said. They dragged Tomo down the sidewalk.
Tomo sputtered and gasped as she was carried by the two agents. They treated her like a child's toy. Going limp and dragging her feet didn't help. She struggled when they carried her to an alley behind the pachinko parlor. Nothing was there but their black cargo van, no windows in the cargo area.
"No," Tomo rasped.
One of the agents lifted her arms up over her head while the other used his handcuff key to unlock her handcuffs. He removed them without care or concern for Tomo's comfort, leaving a painful red welt on Tomo's wrist.
The agent holding her threw her to the ground. He walked behind her, blocking the exit. "Suspect is attempting to escape!" he shouted.
Tomo got to her knees and held her hands up. "No I'm not! I'm right here!" she managed to hack out.
"Suspect has taken an aggressive stance!" his partner shouted. Tomo turned around and saw that the black suited agent had pulled out his gun. "Firing in self-defense!" he said, and he took his aim.
Tomo crumbled, her mouth open in an unspoken plea that would not leave her lips. She was too terrified to shout, to scream for help. She didn't just think she was going to die; she felt it. Her mind and body screamed in anguish and she would let out one final sob, the only denial her little damaged soul could muster.
She felt the wind first, as it passed by her, and then saw the black suited body of the agent fly over her head as if he was catapulted. He smashed into his partner with such force that the gun was flung out of his hand. They landed in a sprawl of Gucci-suited meanness behind the black van.
Tomo turned around, and saw her pass by. She walked with determination, despite her silly yellow pants and the sweater with a weird Aztec design. Tomo had to grab her chest in case her heart burst out with the joy and relief she was feeling. It was Osaka.
The agents were well trained, and quickly scrambled to their feet. Osaka rushed at them. Tomo wasn't able to discern what was happening, or how Osaka dispatched the would-be killers. The past months of vagabond living, a life rotten with fear and paranoia, was cast from her body with an endorphin rush. It was only a fading nightmare now.
It was quick. They weren't dead, but they probably wished they were, being a tangle of limbs, blood, and pain left at Osaka's feet. Tomo stood up, and Osaka turned around. She smiled, broad and loving.
"Hiya Tomo!" Osaka said, with a circular hand wave. "I call that my Deus ex Osaka!" Her face took a quizzical turn as she cocked her head and looked skyward, as if searching for an answer. "Or was that my Osaka ex Machina?"
Tomo ran up, grabbed Osaka's cheeks, and planted a passionate, yet sisterly and chaste kiss on her lips.
"Are we in college again?" Osaka said, when Tomo pulled away. "You don't look drunk."
"Just get me out of here!" Tomo shouted.
...
Tearful reunions had to wait, as Osaka was as desperate to get Tomo to safety as Tomo was to leave. They ran out of the alley, jogged two blocks, and turned into a parking lot where Osaka's car skulked in waiting.
"I never thought I'd actually be happy to see this awful thing," Tomo said, as she jumped in the passenger side of the black Challenger. Osaka hopped in the driver's side, started the car and gassed it into the street with a deft and quick maneuver that came with years of experience.
It was fully night, and the storefront neon lights reflected and stretched over the glossy black surface of the car, as if there were UFO's hovering overhead.
"Thank you," Tomo said. She swallowed to keep from tearing up. "You saved my life."
"You're welcome, Tomo," Osaka said. "Why wouldn't I? You're the best friend I got."
Tomo eyed Osaka carefully. "Did... did Chiyo tell you everything? I mean, what I did?" Tomo's voice cracked.
"Yeah, but I already knew," Osaka said. "I looked into what happened to my friends when I regained my memory back in Mexico, and pieced together what happened. That's why I moved in next to ya. I wondered if you might need help dealing with it, if you ever decided to tell me."
Tomo watched Osaka as she shifted into second gear. She felt the same confusion and disbelief she felt last time, watching Osaka drive a stick shift with such detached skill. Osaka's face lit up each time she passed under a street light. It was kind and focused.
"You knew, and you still wanted to see me?"
"Yeah!" Osaka said. "Chiyo makes me feel bad, though, what she is now. I'd hate for Sakaki to find out."
Her emotions rubbed raw from her near death experience, her weeks of isolation and hard living, and now being saved by Osaka, Tomo, despite herself, teared up. She grabbed the flaps of her jacket and shook her head, trying to fight back the tears.
"You're so great, Osaka," Tomo said. "I don't deserve a friend like you. I betrayed Yomi. I hurt... I crippled-"
"Hush up, Tomo," Osaka said. She spared her hand a movement away from the stick shift, and grabbed Tomo's hand. "We gotta concentrate on getting away now. We'll save that stuff for later, like after we had some fish and beer."
Tomo laughed, loosening a few tears. The only ones she shed. "That's crazy even for you."
"Sorry I had to cut your rescue so short. You weren't were I thought you was."
"Which was?"
"That newspaper stand. I left a note for ya."
"Hold on," Tomo said. "That was you?"
"Sorta," Osaka said. She shifted into third and maneuvered the Challenger to the highway exit. "Alekhine stuck it in a paper delivered there that afternoon, cuz we weren't able to watch it all day. Folks are after us, ya know."
Tomo heard sirens and turned around. Flashing lights were trailing a block behind.
"Uh, Osaka? We got cops on us."
"That won't be a problem, Tomo," Osaka said. She slid into the highway and punched it. G forces pushed Tomo into her seat, and Osaka eventually brought the Challenger's (aftermarket gearbox) up to sixth gear. It roared down the highway, and reached a cruising speed of a hundred and forty miles per hour before Osaka let off the acceleration.
"Geez, that freaks me out," Tomo said.
"Yeah, milk is so expensive," Osaka said, passing a truck hauling a tanker with a polka-dotted cow on the side.
"No, I mean you driving a stick shift. It's so weird!"
"Is this what this thing is?" Osaka said, and she pushed the stick into a lower gear.
The Challenger rebelled and choked, and Tomo and Osaka were thrust forward as the car lost a tremendous amount of speed.
"What are you doing?" Tomo shouted.
"What's going on?" Osaka shouted. She smashed the gas, and the car grinded out an awful sputter. "What is this? I don't know what this is!"
Tomo's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"I forgot how to drive!" Osaka shouted. She started mashing pedals randomly, causing great confusion to the poor car.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" Tomo shouted.
"Why did you have to say anything, Tomo!" Osaka shouted, with real heat. Tomo was taken aback by her sudden anger. "I never learned this, they just put it in my brain! You made me forget how to drive! Why'd you have to go and do that!"
Osaka jerked the steering wheel, and Tomo screamed as the car fled down the off-ramp, hitting the embankment and flying into the street below. Cars honked and slammed their breaks as the big black behemoth rained down terror on the innocent motorists.
"Pull over!" Tomo said. The swirl of red and blue lights in the rear view mirror caught her eye, and Tomo turned around. They had lost too much speed, and the police car was gaining.
"Don't pull over! Speed up!"
"Hmm," Osaka said, staring at the floorboard instead of the street. "Which of these is the gas?" Her feet stomped around, and the car blasted forward.
"That's the girl, Osaka!" Tomo said, with a fist pump. "You can drive again!"
"What's this thing?" Osaka said. To Tomo's horror, Osaka was staring at the steering wheel.
"Don't-"
Osaka jerked the steering wheel. The tires smoked and squealed, and the rear clipped the side of a parked car. Osaka somehow corrected the course, and the car sped ahead... toward a construction zone.
"Okay Osaka, we'll need to slow down. Hit the break and turn up here!"
The car sped on.
"The break!" Tomo shouted, hysteria lining her voice. "Hit the break!"
"Which is the break?" Osaka said. The car sped toward the construction zone, and Tomo realized it would be too late.
In a smooth and quick motion, like a fearsome combo from a top tier street fighter, Tomo performed an astonishing act of agility and speed that she knew she'd never be able to duplicate for as long as she lived. She unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned over and unbuckled Osaka's seatbelt, grabbed Osaka, and pulled her toward the door. Tomo opened the door and pushed herself out, holding on to Osaka with all her might.
The car hit the edge of the newly dug foundation and went airborne just as Tomo and Osaka tumbled out. They flew through the air, parallel with the ground, and Tomo tightly grasped Osaka and forced her own body to go limp before the inevitable crash. The Challenger rocketed out of sight.
...
Four hours earlier, the party for the groundbreaking event had ended, a party held to celebrate a new project of Mainichi Construction, Inc. The pit manager now had the unwholesome task of taking out the trash. He ordered his men to collect the trash bags, and had them piled next to the manager's office on the grounds of the construction zone.
"Um, boss? Shouldn't we be calling city sanitation?" one of his underlings asked.
"Hell no," he said. "Why should we? They'll come pick it up."
The underling eyed the mountain of trash bags. "Boss? Garbage doesn't run for another three days. This stuff is going to stink."
"It's all in bags," the manager said. "What's the big deal?"
"It'd look real bad if dogs got into this and spread it all over the place."
"Look, would you stop worrying? Nothing's going to happen to this stuff."
The underling made a wide idiot grin. "How much you wanna bet?"
The manager's eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. "Okay, if this stuff is untouched and doesn't stink by the time the sanitation department picks it up, you have to shave your head bald."
"Alright," the underling said, rubbing his chin. "If all this garbage stinks to high heaven, or gets strewn around everywhere, you... hmm. You'll have to smoke a rotten banana peel."
"That's... really weird," the manager said, wondering when the underling's psyche evaluation was due. "But you're on!" They shook hands and grinned at each other.
Later, the manager went into his hut and called the sanitation department. They promised to send a garbage truck first thing in the morning to pick up the mountain of trash bags. The manager thanked them, hung up the phone, and laughed to himself.
"Easiest bet yet."
...
Tomo and Osaka plowed into the mountain of trash bags. The sheer force of their impact, like an asteroid pummeling the earth, toppled the Everest of garbage. Black garbage bags exploded in a rain of chicken bones, half eaten ramen, coconut shells, sauces, partially drained cups of juice and beer, and an entire variety of partially consumed food, leaving a blast radius that spread over the construction zone and spilled out into the street. Remnants of the explosion would be found years after the project was completed. Tomo swore she heard an actual explosion.
When they had come to a halt, lying on the few unexploded garbage bags, they had left a trail of filth and decay that spread behind them for twelve meters.
Tomo, lying on her back, groaned and sat up. Her arm was sore from slamming into the plastic bag – a bruise was forming – but she wasn't hurt.
Osaka dug through the trash she had landed in, an empty bowl upturned on her head. Her hair and face were dark and pungent with soy sauce. "I've been marinated," Osaka said. "I'm sorry Tomo, I promise I'm not stupid."
Tomo let escape a sigh. "I know you're not," she said, removing the bowl from Osaka's head. "I just wish you came with an instruction manual." She looked behind her.
"Whoa!" Tomo said. "Look at that! What are the odds?"
"Yeah," Osaka said, her eyes following the trail of food and busted black bags. "It's like a slip n' slide, but for hobos."
"Hey, did you hear an explosion?" Tomo said.
Comprehension lit Osaka's face like a brush fire. "Jerome!" she said, and she ran toward where she guessed the car landed, a big clue being the smashed-in protective wall. Tomo followed behind. Tomo gasped, and Osaka fell to her knees.
The Challenger, standing upright on its grill, was leaning against the silver blades of two bulldozers, parked next to each other. Smoke and fire poured from the car into the air. Flaming debris from the car was strewn over the construction site, including the bent and broken hood. Jerome was dead.
"Wow," Tomo said, amazed at the carnage, and sickened with powerful fear that it could've been them. The fire flickered and illuminated her face.
"That's how Francis died," Osaka said.
"Who's Francis?"
"His brother." Osaka stood up, clapped her hands together, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. Tomo did the same, until she realized what she was doing.
"Gah!" she said, breaking up her prayer. "I'm not praying over a car! Osaka, get me out of here!" Tomo grabbed Osaka's wrist and pulled her away from the fire.
"Where are we going?" Osaka said.
Tomo stopped and let go of her wrist. "Yeah, where are we going? You're supposed to lead!"
"This way!" Osaka said. She ran in the opposite direction out of the construction zone and onto the sidewalk. Tomo followed. The sounds of sirens were close behind.
...
"Hold on," Osaka said, squatting on the pavement against a red brick building. She held a hand to her chest. "I'm no good at running marathons."
"Take your time," Tomo said, looking up and down the street. "It's not like I'm on the run from the law or anything."
Osaka had lead Tomo through the mazes of streets, alleys, and even an empty trash-lined canal in... well, Tomo wasn't sure where they were. Sometimes she wondered if Osaka actually knew where they were, but she was afraid to say anything.
"You sure changed, Tomo," Osaka said. "You aren't breathing heavy or anything."
"That sounds bad coming from you," Tomo said. "No, I've been doing nothing but walking the past several months, so I guess I built up a little endurance."
"Alright," Osaka said standing up. "I'm ready. We're close to where we're going."
"Which is?"
"A Ministry of Defense safe house."
Tomo grabbed Osaka's arm to stop her from running. "Osaka! I'm wanted by the law, remember? I can't go to a government safe house!"
Osaka looked both ways on the empty street, as if she was imparting terrible secrets. "There's a big fight between the cabinet and the Ministry of Defense," she said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "I don't understand politics, but they aren't liking Oda Otomo and his policies. They think militarizing the SDF is a mistake, and would cause mass desertion."
"Maybe so, but why would they protect a criminal? Which I totally am not, by the way."
"Because I said so," Osaka said, like a seer. "So they pretend you aren't anywhere near me."
"Really?" Tomo said. "You have that sort of power? Wow, that's awesome, Osaka! You should make them give you a hundred million yen!"
"They did," Osaka said. "That's how I got my taqueria. I hate I had to give it up, but I needed to take the heat off you and Torako."
Tomo's brain was shuffling questions to ask Osaka, mostly on the basis of if she'd like the answer or not. She decided to skip the interrogation, and ordered Osaka to charge ahead.
...
After a block of running, Osaka took a right turn and entered upon a neighborhood street. Old houses were cramped next to each other, and Tomo looked nervous.
"Is it okay to be here?" she asked. "I don't want to be seen."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Osaka said. "It's nighttime anyway." Tomo wasn't sure how that mattered, but she didn't press the subject. Osaka made it to their target; a boarded up convenience store, the 7/11 label scaring the exterior.
"Oh, I get it," Tomo said. "It's a front!"
Osaka produced a key and unlocked the glass door, covered with cardboard. Instead of entering into darkness, as Tomo expected, they two walked into a lighted, clean hallway.
"A kitchen is in the back," Osaka said. "They got a bath and a living room, although everything is pressed together, like Legos. Some of it spills into the basement."
"Wow," Tomo said. "These are good digs. I'd never thought it'd be like this from the outside."
"Yep!" Osaka said. Tomo walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sitting at a small pub table, its stained surface brown with age, was Sakaki, eating a bowl of ramen.
"Sakaki!" Tomo said. Sakaki looked up and smiled, her relief and happiness apparent. Tomo slightly blushed.
"Tomo," she said. She stood up and bowed, and Tomo bowed back. If it was possible to transmit a depth of feeling through bowing, those two certainly did it.
"I tried to find you again," Tomo said, "but your clinic burned down! What was that about?"
Sakaki shook her head, frowning at the floor. "I was accused of burning it down. They published my medical history... made people think I lost my mind."
"How did that happen? Who did it?"
"We don't know yet," Osaka said, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm thinking Ch- uh, Rain of Terra."
Tomo peered at Osaka, processing what Osaka was going to say instead of what she did say. She turned back to Sakaki, who seemed oblivious to Osaka's near faux pas. "It was my fault, wasn't it?" Tomo said. "They found out I was staying with you."
"I don't know," Sakaki said. She refused to meet Tomo's eyes. "I was going to be arrested, but Osaka pulled me out at the last moment."
"Yeah, she's good at that," Tomo said, eyeing Osaka with a smirk.
"I don't wait that long on purpose," Osaka said, waving her hands like an airplane traffic controller, trying to drive Tomo away.
Sakaki looked up and wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"
"Oh yeah," Tomo said. She faced Osaka. "About that bath?"
...
They were nearly the same size, so Osaka loaned Tomo some clothes. Tomo strongly urged her to loan her some pants instead of a dress, and Osaka complied.
"No offense to you two, but I got to get some sleep. Which of these is my room?"
"Um, that one there." Osaka said, pointing. "The one next to you is Sakaki. This one is mine, and that one is Torako's."
"Okay, thanks," Tomo said, grabbing the door handle. "Good night!" She gasped and slowly turned her head to Osaka, who was smiling obliviously.
"Did... did you say Torako?"
"Yeah," Osaka said. "She's in... oh! Ohhh! I forgot to tell you she's here!"
Like moving through a dream, Tomo floated across the hallway and grasped Torako's doorknob. It was locked.
"She might be sleeping," Osaka said. "She's still recuperating from her injuries."
Tomo, of course, picked the lock. The door opened. It was dark inside, with a window covered in cardboard. Tomo felt around and flicked the light switch.
Torako was lying in bed. She was on her back, eyes closed, her thin lips partially opened as she breathed her sleep. Her hair had been trimmed, although her bangs were still long and shaggy.
Tomo slowly walked toward the bed. She dropped to her knees and listened to Torako breathe, and watched the gentle low tide of her chest. Tomo spontaneously, without any warning, not even realizing it was coming, burst into tears. She laid her head on Torako's breast and cried.
"I thought you were dead," Tomo said. She moved her arms around Torako's shoulders. "I thought you were gone. I couldn't find you."
Torako opened her eyes. She moved her hand toward the back of Tomo's neck. "Tomo," she said.
She sat up, Tomo hanging on her shoulders. Tomo hugged her and put her head on the crook of Torako's neck. Torako put her arms around her. She gently kissed Tomo's targus, her soft inlay of ear.
Tomo looked up at Torako and sniffed. She broke out into a terrorizing grin. "I knew you had the hots for me!" she shouted.
"That was original and unexpected," Torako said with a lop-sided smile, pushing Tomo's head away.
"Anyway, I'm sleeping here tonight," Tomo said, flipping the covers over to move in. "Scoot over."
"Tomo, this bed isn't-" Tomo inserted her body on the edge of the bed and used it to push Torako against the wall.
"See? Instant room," Tomo said, as she lay on her side, her body pressed against Torako, who was flat on her back. She put her arms around Torako's waist and let escape a contented sigh.
Torako sighed too, but there was no contentment there.
...
Hiro Tezuka stared at the wreckage.
He was still accorded some respect, despite being knocked down to lieutenant of a meter maid squad. Such a demotion doesn't automatically mean you're no longer the best driver in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. He knew that, and the quartermaster knew that as well. That's why he let him into his scrap yard.
Hiro hadn't said a word when he first saw the wreckage. The quartermaster stood next to him, stubble spread across his chin.
Hiro pointed at the burned wreckage. "What the hell is that?"
The quartermaster smiled, and rubbed his chin. "The car found at the construction zone. They had to put the fire out and peel it off two bulldozers. The one the cops were chasing. Had Tomo Takino and some other girl in it."
"I know that car," Hiro said. "I chased after it. Now, what did the police report say it was?"
"1970 Dodge Challenger," the quartermaster said.
"Then what's the problem?" Hiro said.
"Look," the quartermaster said. "I'm not going to say it's the right car. I'm not even going to say it's the wrong car. All I'm saying, is this is the car they peeled off them bulldozers, and it's the car they say they were chasing. I'm not going to doubt 'em."
Hiro looked at the car again, and wondered, not for the last time, why he was looking at the burned out husk of a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro.
...
A/N: That's the last Vanishing Point (1971) reference. I promise.
Also, you just saw the biggest change I made in this story, which is Torako surviving her assault. The outline I wrote originally had Torako getting killed, but as I got closer to that event, it just seemed wrong. Excessive and unnecessary, maybe even gratuitous. So she survives. How she survived, of course, will be in the next chapter.
