CHAPTER XII

…

Finally, I'm back in my house in Isobe district. These days, everything seems under surveillance, and it's driving me paranoid. I'm starting to have problems with sleeping and my hands sometimes quivered. I must be going crazy. Does a crazy person realize he is going insane? That's another mystery, and I think he does. And at this point, I realize that I'm talking to myself because I'm the only person who I'd listen to. This sounds familiar… a symptom of autism, if I'm not mistaken.

I'm expecting Komachi to contact me by video call any time now, since it's a weekend, and they usually call on weekends. The clock just struck 3:20 in the afternoon, which means it's around two o' clock PM in the west. Or should I say, in the east? Because I'm in Japan, and America is just over the Pacific Ocean… so my laptop is on the table, and I'm waiting for the unmistakable sound of a bell to announce a message that I want to see.

Nobody is in the house, and I'm all alone. I like it, you know. I'm cool with it. The only sounds I hear from my surroundings is the whirring of the electric fan, neighbours talking, a dog barking or the racket of a train rolling by down on the Keiyo railroad line. I am having a good time. Got myself some fruit from the refrigerator, and I'm lying right there on the sofa, hard at work converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. Zaimokuza Yoshiteru just texted me. He asked me to come to a reunion party with him. What's this? I promised myself to never go to any parties that seem troublesome again. A reunion party might just be the pinnacle of all congregations seeking trouble. That's like going to meet up with people who attempted to murder you in the past. Why would I want that?

Zaimokuza said that was the favor he was asking of me. I thought it was pretty stupid. But then I rebuke myself. If his favor was stupid, me planning on asking him to become my accomplice in crime was even more so. He doesn't know even now what I was going to offer him. We're going to need to have a long talk regarding these matters. Zaimokuza isn't dumb, far from it. If only he'd abandon his otaku obsessions, he might even be considered a genius in some respect.

You'd think, how bad can it be? Well, for one, that reunion party is planned by my colleagues from middle school. Yes… it goes way back. If I remember correctly, it was that time before I met Orimoto Kaori. Just the thought of it sent shivers down my spine - you know, out of embarrassment. I cringed at the memories.

Now, why couldn't I forget it? Because I always passed by the school I went to in my childhood every day. Everywhere I looked, there were reminders of little memories. Isobe district was practically my whole world when I was a kid. The playground where I used to climb the monkey bars, or the park where I'd ride my bike, occasionally racing against the other kids, and even the Chiba Kaihin municipal hospital we visited as a class during a field trip. Third grade of elementary school was my most memorable and wonderful time of childhood, but after that came the fall. The dark ages, yes. From there on, I was subject to bullying and harassment by my peers until it culminated into my final straw in the second year of junior high school. What's ironic is that I also used to bully a few kids when I was in elementary. Karma was coming back at me. One day you're flying high, the next you're shot down.

So the reunion party is a nightmare. The past came down on me like a sledgehammer, and I was nervous. Why is Zaimokuza even involved in the first place? Up until now I didn't know that he also went to the same elementary school as I did. But we weren't classmates at all, so we never crossed paths. The same goes for Orimoto, who I never even knew existed at that time until several years later. I was scared that she might be there… I don't want to encounter any more familiar faces at that party! And what the hell am I even going to do there? Put on some shoes and dance? Zaimokuza is a good friend of mine, and I have impending business with him so I accepted. I agreed to go with him to the party at six o' clock.

Why is Komachi taking so long? I'm relaxing on the sofa, swiping through my old, beat up phone. If Nokia is the ultimate indestructible phone, then the Samsung Duos must be it's modern equivalent. My father bought it for me, and I kid you not, this thing just wouldn't break. It must be luck or chance, but the screen never shattered on every occasion I dropped it, although the sides of the phone are all scratched up and the glossy lining flaked off. Seven years, and it's still running. It's pretty crappy, but it works. The screen malfunctions sometimes, and you have to be very gentle with your fingers… just to unlock it. That's my cheap security system.

I rarely use LINE - actually, I rarely use any social apps. If I do, it's usually Messenger, to get in touch with my sister. You know how old folks and "baby boomers" have a prejudice against technology? I mean, they have a point. Manny hates telephones, and if he wants to talk he'll schedule a face-to-face meeting. He says that the government has everything bugged. They're always listening. I started to worry about that too, so I do it the old fashioned way - I go and talk with people, if I have business with them. Does anyone still write letters? I mean - on paper, ink-written and sealed letters. It feels like it's some sort of ancient practice. I write draft letters in English and send some of them to my mother in the U.S.… it helps in mastering that particular language and saying hellos.

Now I'm scrolling through my LINE contacts after texting with Zaimokuza, and I come across a particular contact that made my blood freeze. I stopped. Oh, sweet heavens, I completely forgot all about Miura Yumiko… I am so fucked. How is it possible to forget her? I don't know, but I did. The whole week was so stressful and loaded with multiple ongoing business that it completely wiped off any thoughts involving women, or certain urges. The grapes I was enjoying began to taste sour and unpleasant. I cursed, and hesitated to open the messages. Over thirty unseen messages from Miura? She's going to kill me! Then I remembered our "date" last Monday… I felt lightheaded. I opened the messages, and found myself laughing weakly - out of sheer dread.

I felt myself shrink smaller and smaller as I read through the menacing string of messages… I got more and more unnerved as I scrolled lower and lower, through death threats, missed calls and curses in between ambiguously cute-like messages. Then she spammed the emoticons. It went from angry, sad, crying, angry again and at the end, an upside-down happy emoji. When you see your girl send an upside-down happy emoji, you know you're really fucked. I mean - no, she's not my girl. You get the point… she might bury me alive if I go near her while she's this mad.

This is bad. It's horrible. What am I supposed to do? I tried to compose the most humble and careful and sorry apology message… but instead, I did the absolute worst thing I could. What did I text back? I typed in: 'slr'. "Sorry, late reply." I'll probably be dead before Monday comes around. I don't want to get killed by Miura. I'd rather be shot by a famous robber or gangster, just not some woman with manic-depressive tendencies. I decided to meet up with her tomorrow as soon as possible. She can't kill me on a Sunday, it's the day of resurrection. But I've never bought the idea of the existence of an all-powerful, all-knowing imaginary friend, and I'm probably going to hell in six different religions. I started laughing weakly again, and lit a cigarette.

Only now do I remember how much I needed a smoke - I'm not a smoker at heart, and it's just to ease my nerves or bask in the pleasures of spare time. I don't worry about dying from cancer - rather, I don't have the time to worry. It's scary, but there's nothing you can do about it. Most people think that life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife cheats on you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, a new wife, you owe three billion yen in medical bills but you work hard for thirty-five more years and you pay it back and then, one day, you have a massive stroke. Your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the ability to walk and the ability to talk. And then, one day, you step off the curb on the street and BANG! You get hit by a city bus and then you finally die. Maybe.

There I am, lying on the sofa, watching the wisps of smoke from the cigarette get blown away by the fan. While I'm at that, wasting time, I decided to take my mind off the matters at the bar, and think of something else. First thing that came to mind was how did all of this even start with Miura Yumiko. I certainly didn't expect to see her again, and I forgot about her along with the rest of my high school classmates. I'm trying to recollect my high school life. It's not like I'm digging up some locked away, forbidden memories. In fact, it feels like only yesterday, I was still seventeen. I always liked to think about the time I was nine years old. Those were the times when things were simple, occasionally troublesome, and always exciting. Sure, middle school and so forth were good years, and I liked the drama and experience that it gave me. But I simply couldn't feel the same sort of emotion and affection most youth experienced, and that's why I don't find it so dear. To me, it's like watching a play, or a film. I could laugh, cry, and smile, but I'm only watching. I'm only a spectator, so I couldn't fathom the passion the characters onstage feel.

What is Miura Yumiko to me? Far back as I can remember, we were worlds apart. She's the queen in the social hierarchy, and I'm a bottom dweller. I'm from the gutter, and she's born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She had everything she wanted. But I have what I need, and that's enough. Looking at her now, it seems that even though she presumably had a rich and lively social life, she's not satisfied. I can't say much, really… I should try to talk with her, get to know more about her. I know, I know. It's none of my business. But I'm wondering about her family.

Now, I remember how the two of us started a blurry, but nevertheless a relationship with each other. It's more of a passive-aggressive, distant relationship between us. Back in my second year of highschool, I got into a quarrel with Miura in class. I think it was about her wanting to finally confess her feelings for Hayama Hayato. He of course, didn't want that happening because it would destroy the status quo and cause a huge fiasco at school. The most popular girl gets shot down by the most popular boy. So you see how troublesome it can get. She came to the Service Club to ask for advice on what to do. And me, being the wretched cynic I am, goaded her into going all in and confessing once and for all. I think I wanted to see her rejected and devastated.

Then one day (I think it was the day she was going to confess) she overheard me talking about her. I honestly don't remember what I said. And you know how women can be - say one bad thing about them, and they'll never forget it. I certainly must've said something that offended her. I'm not surprised. Then we got into a fight, and it was nasty. A vicious, verbal fight. I don't want to cross this girl, so I let her curse at me. But I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut right there and then, but no. I proceeded to lambaste her, and throw my own offense at her. It got so bad, I think I even went below criticizing her for her feelings towards Hayama. A real dick move by me. I told her, "he's never going to love such a worthless person like you."

And she's crying, and I'm the public enemy no.1 again, and everything blew up into a mess. I left the Service Club, there was a split between me and my two companions, and I regretted it. Of course, I tried to make amends, and even if only for a little bit, things cooled down. Hiratsuka-sensei encouraged me to make up with Miura. And I should, after all I essentially did Hayama a favor inadvertently and reduced the chances of Miura confessing to him down to practically zero. It was bad, because I had just destroyed the ego of a sensitive person. And that is why I tried to forget all about it. But the truth is that I never forgot.

He who does not remember history is condemned to repeat it. And I told myself, I must never make the same grave mistake again. It cost me my friends, my companions, and threw me into a path cock-eyed from a romantic comedy. And it now brought me here, right now, and my life has turned into a criminal tragedy. Still, I wouldn't complain. I could get used to it. Besides, I already know that there are no happy endings. Not in real life. Not for me, at least.

Miura and I used to walk home together - and by together, I mean on the same path, and often several meters away from each other. We hardly talk. To someone else, it looks like we both know each other, but that's not the case, really. I knew we were a volatile mix, and it's bad news for us to be within visual range of each other. Why? Well, for numerous reasons. An example would be the first time we walked beside each other. It's funny, now that I've thought of it.

I'm walking slowly towards the main gate to go home. It just so happens that she's near me. She said quietly, "I'm tired." I didn't mind. She's talking to herself, I thought, "Okay."

She spoke again. "I said I'm tired. Are you going to walk me home or what?"

"Who, me?" I asked.

Miura rolled her eyes and glanced at me. "Yeah, you. Are you going to walk me home?"

"What if I don't?"

"Well, why the fuck not?" She nonchalantly asked.

I moaned out of exasperation. Really? How did she make that segue - how did she jump from "I'm tired," to "are you going to walk me home?" Do those two sentences have anything to connect with each other? And I hate her attitude…

"You have poor social skills. You have a problem," I said.

"I have a problem?" She laughed. "You say more shit than I do. You scare people."

"No, I'm being honest. You're just being mean."

"Am I?... am I… whatever. I'm sorry then."

We both have that face on - that unamused, slightly pissed look that would make people wonder, "hey, is there something wrong?" That's probably the only thing we have in common. She's insulting, and I'm offensive. There's a difference. The only reason why we're both this close is because Hiratsuka-sensei is compelling us to be.

I just said, "Don't be sorry, Miura. I don't care if you're obscene, filthy, horrendous - as long as you're honest."

We keep on walking until we reach the intersection on Kaihinmatsukaze-dori avenue, at which point she turns around and gives me a disgusted look. She asked, "Why are you following me?"

"Don't be absurd. I live over there," I said, pointing straight ahead. "And you?"

She said that she's going to take the train at Inagekaigan. I offered to walk her there. She said, "Oh no, don't bother. I don't need a creep following me that far… but thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, Hikio."

Being with her is like having back and forth banter with Yukinoshita, minus the clever quips and elegance. In a way, it was also unique. Miura's personality best describes her mindset: straightforward, sometimes convoluted, and flat out insulting. And I secretly liked that. I guess we were both cynics in some way, or had I passed on my negativity to her?

Our passive-aggressive interactions continued up until our third year of highschool. And that was the time we parted ways. She finally succeeded in making the prince love her, and I ended up with the ice queen, whose cold heart I was able to thaw. And you'd think it was a happy ending. But there's a reason why a play or a movie always ends at the turning point. Because it always turns into a tragedy, and they never tell you the true story.

...

AN: I thought, there's too many detective/hero Hachiman fics. why no crime-boss Hachiman? so I went ahead and did it.

I've been working on this for the past month. more chapters coming tomorrow. currently just a rough 1st write.

There are characters from other anime series, so watch out.

Part 1 is too big to call a prologue. It's more of a prelude to Part II: The Boss of Chiba Outfit, which is where the action and drama all start coming together.

If everything goes as far as I hope, the story will reach Part III, and the final Part IV.