The Ugly

…

…

I always thought that the three of us, friends, were like those characters in that old Western film, The Good, The Bad, The Ugly.

Kawasaki Saki was certainly The Good.

In spite, I guess I must be the Bad one.

Therefore, Hachiman must be The Ugly.

I've not watched that Clint Eastwood flick yet, but even so, I think just from the title I had the gist of the plot. Three gunslingers on a savage journey through the heart of the American West. Fight, backstab, seek out treasures, all that necessary stuff. I liked to think we were like that in a way. But before, I always thought of what Saki-chan or Hikio thought of me. I wondered if they really hated my guts, or if they found me funny, or if they really liked me. I figured maybe it's a mix of everything.

Maybe the three of us could watch that, but would they appreciate it?

Something's bothering me quite lately, but I don't know what word to put on it. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew what it was, but I can't put my thumb on it. Maybe it was just me overthinking - something that rubbed off on me now that I'm good friends with an intense cynic like Hikio. Or maybe it was how our relationship started off incredibly rocky.

It was over a year ago, and it already feels so long. I try not to think of it too much but I don't forget.

Hikio and I became friends after a bad fight. A "social suicide" as they call it. And it went both ways, from my part and his.

The day that shit happened…

Well, I'm just glad I wasn't alone. I hated the way Hachiman stepped in, but at least I got my answer from seeing Hayato's face after I confessed to him. After that, I felt like crap for a long time, like a schoolgirl who thought she had a chance with the college proff.

Why bother, even? Why make the fuckin' effort if all you get in return for your heart is a couple of empty words?

It's one of the things I don't like to think about. But I couldn't help but remember, and even laugh at how passive-aggressive Hachiman and I were to each other. We were two chumps who detested each other with a passion, and tolerated each other just enough to stick together until we became friends like we are now.

But oh, there's some very combative times especially when you're hanging out with Mr. Big Ass, the man who hates everything we 'riajuus' (normal, cool people!) believe in! Here's a montage of how our first few times together goes:

Three days after our fateful social-suicide incident; Picture us walking the same street going home from Soubu High, always passing by Nakatahama park, on our way down to the Kaihinmatsukaze-dori intersection:

"I'm kinda tired."

"So?"

I wanted him to care.

He keeps acting like I don't exist.

"Well, I said I'm tired! Are you gonna walk beside me or keep acting like a cockroach, walking slowly behind me?"

Mr. Big Ass actually steps up beside me, but gives me a terrible, bland look.

"What if I don't?"

"Well, why the fuck not?"

"You actually have poor social skills. How did you even make that segue? So you're tired, why do I have to walk with you? You have a problem."

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

"No, I'm being honest."

"No, you're not being honest! You're just mean!"

I screamed at Mr. Big Ass. First, the incident. Now, it's like he's back to normal, treating me with indifference. How? Why is this guy like this? He's one of the only people who'd either made me cry, or made me really angry and frustrated.

The next day, I was feeling extremely sad and lonely - I made the mistake of confessing this to Hikio:

"Miura-san, what the fuck does that mean for me?"

My lips were quivering. Why doesn't he understand? We're both outcasts now, right?! I got humiliated in front of the whole class. And I know he TRIED to help me. That's why I started to… care for him, since that day. Why I always waited or ran up to catch him when school let out, when we went home down the same street.

We're two wolves, or birds of the same hair, or whatever he fucking calls it.

I wanted him to care.

"I'm feeling really depressed! You tried to stand up for me in front of the whole class when Hayato finally rejected me—Now you don't care?!"

"I didn't stand up for you- "

"Yes you did! That's what it was—you just said very bad and hurtful worse things to me so everyone will hate you instead of ridiculing and bullying me!"

I nearly choked. But I said it.

"...I-I want you to care for me from now on."

Mr. Big Ass shot me a very dirty look, like I was some kind of hooker who just gave out her exorbitant rates.

"Miura-san, if you're actually thinking of becoming friends with me, forget about it."

"I'm serious!"

"Adolf Hitler was serious, and look what he fucking caused."

I punched him.

Next week, he's not as evil towards me. He let me sit beside him at lunch behind the school building. I apologised. I knew I was a bitch. He's the only guy I knew who did not take any shit from me - that scared me, but because of that, I became scared too of losing what could be the only person who would even be patient and accept me for what I am…

I tried my best to be nice and complacent with him, hoping that he'll return it:

I opened up to him about why I took a risk and confessed to Hayato once and for all, despite knowing I would fuck up our whole friendship and clique.

I told Hachiman, I thought that since he probably went through the same thing, he would understand.

"You want Hayama-san to return your passionate feelings of love?"

I nodded, blushing.

Hikio gave me a severely ironic smile that scares me until now.

Mr. Big Ass smiled. Then he spoke softly.

"Heh, heh, well now Miura-san… WHAT ON THIS SCREWED-UP EARTH MAKES YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA GET THAT?!"

He screamed at me like I was the devil in front of him, and that gave me a very, very bad jolt. I thought he'd completely lost it, that he's a foaming psychopath pretending to be a harmless loner. Maybe he was a sadist! Maybe he's making fun of me, and I'm actually acting like a scaredy-little-crap!

This fucker was wicked, I thought. I decided that if I was gonna befriend this guy, I can't allow myself to be surprised anymore. Expect the worst from him. Pessimistic, I know, but when you're dealing with Mr. Big Ass, Mr. I-hate-everything-that-you-believe-in, biggest loner of Soubu I knew, you have to strap yourself down baby. It's gonna be one very bad, twisted comedy.

For Hikio, his secret motto is probably something between "If I can't have it, nobody else will!" and "Let the world burn, all I care about is having my Max Coffee to drink!"

So yeah, I was afraid of him. He's like the Nazi assassin, Hans Landa, or the cruel baron Monsieur Candie—Hikio was a villain. He was The Ugly.

But aside from Kawasaki-san, he's the only one I got to save me. So maybe hopefully this guy will turn good in his later arcs.

…

We checked in at the InterContinental at eight o' clock and had service breakfast in the dining hall. Now we were in Tokyo city—the cosmopolitan mecca of this side of the planet, source to everything veritable, grand and bountiful. More buildings than trees. A hundred railways for every stream and river running to and fro around here. Ships are always docking and unloading fantastic, new stuff at the Bay. Imported stuff. China-made stuff. Expensive and cheap, everything in between. Everyday in Tokyo was like fucking Christmas, and mind you, we're in the beginning of July here.

If you must enter the Big City, there's no use in half-assing it. The culture here is savage—it will eat you up. They don't call it consumerism for nothing. Everything is wrapped in plastic. Everything comes in bite-sizes to European Extra Large. Tourists come here and have a good time, but only because they're loaded and the common, peaceable Japanese native holds foreigners in extremely high regard. Don't be defeated. Never overstay your welcome though. Never run out of money. You're not free without money! Don't believe me? Try going somewhere in Tokyo without money, see how far you get. This isn't New York—at least there, a bum can rally around a hot subway vent on the worst nights. In Tokyo they'll butcher the poor and make sushi out of them as soon as the rules are offline.

The way I see it, push back! Do it—roll with the punch and give the culture a sharp cross to the face. Blow ten grand a day. Pack a real muscle car, dress like Travolta and do quarter-miles on the arterial boulevards. Challenge the old guards in suits and ties and make them grit their teeth at you. It pisses everyone off even more when they see you, "wait a minute! And that's a girl breaking the rules! Oh God, what's happening to this country?!"

Show that you've got the guts, the bravado and the style to ride this fabulous wave. It's exactly like surfing - and while I never learned how to surfboard at the beach, I do know this: Look around. Get a feel for the vibes of the decade. I think… This is the big wave, the high watermark that comes only once every ten, fifteen years.

Advanced fighter jets penetrate past the sound barrier at Mach speeds easily. Powerful machines like F-22 Raptors are so vicious that to travel any slower than 700 kilometres per hour for them would cause them to stall and crash into the Earth. What if some people, like me, were like that? Fighter jets can't slow down, and if they do, they crash and break. No landing gears for me.

Okay… too much velocity right now for me. I sat still beside Kawasaki-san with my leather seat reclined back at an extremely generous angle.

"I think I drank too much daiquiris…" I muttered. "I'm about to puke."

"I told you," Kawasaki-san chided. She drove the powerful Challenger much more cautiously than me. I'm just glad. "Drinking at breakfast? You're mad," she said.

"Hey, I wanted to get that out of the way. We have a long day."

"Very clever."

Why not? Besides, when you're there at the place where you're supposed to be, the correct way to behave is by grabbing opportunity by the neck and wringing that bastard out of every last drop. "Don't even think about spending our remaining allowance, Miura!" Hikio warned me before we dropped him off at the LDP convention at the Shangri-La, in Chiyoda where he's attending the opening venue to do his journalism stuff.

Of course, I won't. I brought my own pocket money too! I'm not a blatant hedonist, I know that the only way to survive in a goddamn world like this is to match the energies with style. If you don't, you'll crash. Watch out.

Kawasaki-san was the wisest of the three of us. If Hachiman weren't so wretched all the time, he'd be more helpful. Even so, I felt like I needed to explain myself and be completely transparent to Kawasaki-san. Explain to her concepts that Hikio was not prepared to swallow yet. You have to fire all the cylinders when confronting a life such as this. Bring your friends. Have a heart. Keep your eyes trained against Depression and Fear—it's something you have to be prepared to kill, or it will run you over like a mouse crossing the road. Always choose love over fear. And dress to kill - fuck mediocrity. Never settle for anything less, because if you do, why'd you even take the plunge if you're not prepared to dive?

Kawasaki-san sighed. "I like the way you just go about things, Miura-san. But sometimes, take it easy. When you work, work. When you play, play. Geez, but you, when you party - you party like it's the end of a decade. You keep doing things a hundred percent. Now maybe that's what Hikigaya-kun loves about you."

She understands! Finally, I succeeded in proselytising one more loner from the world- wait, what did she say?!

"W-What?" I sputtered, glaring at her.

"Yeah."

"No, say that again. What did he say? Did he say he loves me?"

Kawasaki gave me a funny look, but I ignored it. I needed to know. It only struck me how weird my question was later, and it was embarrassing.

"Well, he told me- "

"What is it?"

"Sit the fuck down," Kawasaki said gently. "God—so as I was saying, Hikigaya-kun told me that he liked how you were always 'so ardent and passionate' about everything that you come across. I think he finds it cute when you drink. But - damn it Miura-chan, you crazy bitch, you're just seventeen and you drink like a fish! I know only people like Yukino follow that law these days but still… Remember the scene when we were checking in the hotel?!"

Right. What an entrance. It was the only way, I told her. Make an impression on everyone, the desk clerk, the bellboys even. Not giving a shit is not too cool—why not be a real boss from time to time? Humility is overrated sometimes.

Maybe Hachiman likes it when I'm like… this?

What a stupid thought. Why should I care what he thinks of me… right?

Something about listening to yourself mentally behave in this insecure, giddy manner is so severely embarrassing that I'm surprised I haven't gotten a lobotomy yet. The worst is you're aware of it and can't stop it… WHY do I want to know what Mr. Big Ass, a.k.a. Hikio thinks of me?

Do I like him? Kawasaki-san interrupted that train of thought.

"Here. Have some sriracha tempuras."

I never liked tempuras, because my first time eating them was a ruined experience. When I came back to Japan again before Junior High, I went by myself to a mall and into a parlour. I was served something soggy and cold, like used tissue paper. Maybe the evil chef just wanted to troll a gaijin-looking girl with weird looking hair. I was the only one with blonde hair in Yotsukaido. Afterwards, I never ate tempura again.

I crossed my arms firmly and went back to browsing my phone.

"No. Besides, shrimps make my mouth feel itchy."

"Then that's good, it won't kill you. You said you've been feeling 'fatigued' lately. Have a tempura."

"Are you trying to make a point of a tempura's medicinal antidepressant properties to me? I read med books, and whatever it is you heard, that's a hoax!"

"Come on. Have one."

With one hand, she waved a bright, spicy-looking breaded shrimp in front of me.

"You don't possibly expect me to eat with my hands?!"

Kawasaki scoffed. "Ohh, we're being sophisticated now, Miura-chan? Just get off your damn phone and take it, or I'll throw it on you and you can wear it."

"F-Fine, fine!"

I gingerly took the orange-red dusted tempura. It felt different, hot and extremely crispy unlike anything. "You'll love it," Kawasaki said. Still, I was sceptical.

I sniffed at it. It smelled okay—no, it was fucking great.

Before I knew it, I'd consumed the whole piece, and I realised how puny it was, and I needed more.

"See?" Kawasaki said. "Damn, have some more."

In no time, I went through that delicious box of sriracha tempura. My knack for it was revived for life. Finished, I asked, "Where do I put the tails?"

"Just throw them out the window, duh."

"But, but what about the litter?"

Kawasaki stared at me. "Just break the rules, Miura. Geez, isn't that what you do…"

She wasn't wrong. Shit, why not? I looked at the little handful of orange shrimp tails in the white takeout box. I chucked them out the window.

Kawasaki jammed the brakes. The baby-blue Challenger skidded to a halt.

"Goddamn," I said. "What's that for? Are you mad, you?!"

"Why'd you throw that?!"

"You said break the rules!"

"You threw it, box and all, out on a metropolitan avenue! In front of a fucking CCTV speed trap!" she shouted.

"Huh," I looked. The ominous, rule-enforcing totalitarian cameras were watching. I wanted to give it my middle finger. Why shouldn't I?

I looked back at her. "Dang, I messed up. Keep going."

"Get out and pick it up!"

"Whaaat? Public Works does that! We pay the fucking taxes, let 'em do the job!"

Luckily, sanity prevailed within the next few moments as we realised that arguing about moral obligations and the governmental system while idling on a high-speed national highway with massive trucks roaring around us was foolish. I bolted out of the car and retrieved the now-empty tempura carton and ran back.

I wonder if I'm becoming more and more like Hikio everyday. I'm only thinking this because it always seems like these days, I'm subconsciously looking for ways to relate myself with him, or him with me. What about how he acts towards us, especially like he did half an hour ago?

When we dropped him off, Hachiman kissed Kawasaki on the cheek. Then he gave me a double pat on the shoulder.

"I'll catch you later guys. Saki, you'll shoot the scene down at the plaza, right? Mr. Abe's speeches? Good luck."

"Yep. See you. Break a leg, Hachiman!" Kawasaki waved him off cheerfully.

For some reason, my thoughts snapped hard when I watched that happen. I felt sick, and not from the six daiquiris I downed at breakfast. No! Impossible! Why'd he do that? Hikio was never social, and he's not affectionate! Why did he kiss Kawasaki-san? What did he MEAN by that?

And why'd he just tap me on the shoulder? Double tap?! Oh Jesus Christ, it can't be—maybe he sees me as just a friend, while Kawasaki-san…

I felt pathetic. Me? Worrying about the dreaded nightmare every girl fears, that is the Friendzone? Am I crazy or what?

I realised that while Ebina-san was probably the most private friend I knew, Kawasaki-san was a very close second. And while she's very cool and even jovial often, I wondered just how much I knew about her. I knew stuff about Hikio like how he saved my friend Yui's little dog, Sable, or how he used to go to elementary school somewhere down in Mihama bay, but moved away to escape his bully classmates.

What about Kawasaki-san? She once told me how she got in trouble with Hiratsuka-sensei, how she worked in a bar at the Royal Okura, or how she used to get into fights back in Junior High, which was why she was keeping aloof for a change since Freshman year. Maybe the two were close, Hikio and her.

Heh, well. Looks like history repeats itself. Looking at you, Yui-chan, and you ice bitch, Yukinoshita-san.

"You like Hachiman, don't you?"

"What?!"

Kawasaki didn't even look at me when she said that. She just kept her hands on the wheel, driving on smoothly.

"Do I look stupid to you? Shit, if Hachiman wasn't so typically wretched, he'd notice too. You like him, Miura-san. Maybe not quite now, yet, but I'm betting one grand that you'll slip up sooner or later."

"Only one grand?"

"You're greedy, and that's beside the point!" she exclaimed. Kawasaki sighed, then she said, "You know, the world is full of lonely people too scared to make the first move."

Sometimes, the rare streaks of wisdom and perceptiveness from Kawasaki Saki was scary and prophetic even.

"...you sound just like my Ma."

"Really?"

I shrugged. "That's something she used to say."

"Well, anyways, we're about here." Kawasaki pulled over beside the curb, near a green park. Across the street was the south subway stairwell of a JR line. Since I wasn't paying attention, damn I didn't know what slice of Tokyo this was.

She got out of the driver seat while I pulled myself over and sat in her place.

"You sure you don't wanna take the car?" I asked, looking up at her.

She leaned at the window. "No! In an hour, the whole road in Nara will be packed full with people. If I come up there in a dangerous-looking muscle car, they'll treat me like crazy."

"We'll meet at the Grand Station then, all three of us," I said. "Five PM! You go do your thing, Kawasaki-san!"

"Don't get in trouble!"

"I won't~. I'm gonna go check the events at the Mandarin hotel, or down at the Bay where there's supposed to be a racing rally. Heck, why not? This Challenger's got a Hemi elephant. Why not challenge the fuckers there and their cheap Supras on the dragstrip?"

She laughed. "Don't joke, Miura! You promised to gather up something to write about—Tokyo culture and lifestyle, remember?"

"That's right," I beamed. "Good luck now! And Let me pass onto you some very good advice from a long time ago: Give 'em hell, girl!"

I playfully aimed at her with a finger gun. Then as she stepped away, I shifted into second gear, spurred the gas savagely and dumped the clutch. I took off once again towards the heart of my city.

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