"Did he see you at all?" A voice, hinted with age emanated from a public telephone.
The man answering it hesitated. He'd taken the boyfriend out quickly, but the sedative hadn't acted as fast as he wanted. The boss didn't like loose ends.
"Y-yes, he did. The darts didn't act quickly enough and…" He was silenced by a short 'tut-tut' on the receiving end.
"You know what to do." The old man replied, and shut off the connection.
August 31st, 2020.
But for Hisao, it could've been any day, of any month, of any year. It wouldn't change the fact that he was now a broken man without her.
Since the day she was kidnapped, of course he was a law-abiding citizen, he complied with the police, hell, he even hired an investigator. Not a goddamn single trace of her kidnappers. He didn't blame them, however. They were professionals, they'd probably trained for months just to kidnap her.
Eventually, after a few weeks, he gave up on the law finding her. Day after day he had asked, and day after day he got the same answer. We're still looking for her. The phrase was as ingrained in his mind as her tired smile, or her eyes that seemed to brighten in his presence.
She could've been out of the country by now and he wouldn't have known. And it was all his fault.
He had tried to protect her, and he had failed. To what, a dart? He was disgusted with himself. So, he'd practiced. He went to the range until he shot the bull's-eye every time. It took months, but he'd gotten himself a license for a more powerful weapon. It wouldn't bring her back, but in case he ever had someone else to protect, he wouldn't fail them this time.
He ran his fingers over his jawline as he paced down the sidewalk, not bothering to scoot over for anyone. Hisao hadn't shaved ever since his failure, and he'd grown a short beard that clinged to his face. His eyes, once vibrant with hopes and dreams, had faded into the murky cesspit he had found himself relating to more and more.
Not one day had he lived since then that he didn't think about her. He didn't allow him the luxury of tears, he simply bottled up the emotion inside. If… she was still alive, she wouldn't want him to cry.
His tired frame almost collapsed on a bus stop bench. He was out of his apartment to go buy the necessities that kept him alive. Not his old apartment, he sold that long ago when he all but quit his job, and the fees of the investigator got too high. He now lived in some ramshackle apartment that reminded him of the Kowloon walled city. The interior of his new abode fit his current condition, a husk of what he could've been.
He'd always dreamed of starving himself out or offing himself in any other fashion, joining her in the skies above.
But, he never went through with it. He was too weak for it. The barrel of his new purchase taunted him, looking directly at him every time he went to bed, and every time he woke up.
The bag in his hand was light. He never really felt hungry anymore. More often than not he had to remind himself that eating was for his survival. His cheekbones protruded through his paper-like skin, heavy bags had formed underneath his eyes.
If he were a more sane man, he might've attributed Suzu's insomnia passing onto him. He fondly remembered his high-school days with her, when they declared wars on their own dreams. The nights that they used to sneak out to go stargazing.
He gave a slight nod to the sky. It was raining more often recently, the clouds blocking the starry skies. Hisao still couldn't bear to look at the twinkling lights, as with Suzu, they only reminded him of happy times, long since wretched from his grasp.
In short, he was a fucking wreck.
The rain started again, first appearing as phantom drops bouncing off his skin, then turning into a steady drizzle. The gutter symphony began as raindrops bounced off of Hisao's leather overcoat. He'd worn it because he had expected it to rain. After all, the sun had left him behind.
Was this as low as he would go? Would he make some miraculous comeback? Could he go even lower?
He asked himself this as someone sat next to him. He gave the figure a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, then looked down again. He didn't really care.
The person next to him shifted, not to change positions, but to sit straight up, looking forward.
He wasn't one to become paranoid, but something rubbed him the wrong way about this whole situation. He kept bouncing the possibility in his mind, before a voice interrupted him.
"Hisao Nakai." The person said, in a strange, warped voice. They were obviously trying to disguise their natural tone of voice, but for what reason? Already Hisao's heartbeat was increasing in pace, not being helped by the fact that the figure knew his name.
"Look straight ahead." The mysterious person continued. It was a lighter tone of voice, almost like a woman? He followed the person's orders, focusing his attention on a telephone pole opposite of them.
Damn Japan for not allowing concealed carry.
He licked his dry lips, not having social contact as in-depth as this for a while.
"Who are you, and how do you know my name?" His words were slow and methodical, pre-planning his own moves.
The woman next to him didn't respond, instead deciding to cross her arms in front of her chest, keeping her left hand tucked underneath. He couldn't see her expression, but he could almost sense her… scowling…? Her expression suddenly shifted to that of mirth, a concept all but foreign to him.
"C'mon Hisao, you'd be lying if you said you didn't remember me." She didn't bother to hide her voice this time.
Hisao's face contorted into surprise, the neurons in his brain firing rapidly, bringing back painful memories. He hid this well however, managing to bring his eyebrows even lower.
"Miki Miura." He drew the last syllable out, tasting it on his cracked lips. He was experiencing a cacophony of emotions currently, all hidden inside his interior.
If one were looking at this conversation from the outside, they'd be mystified. One of them, a dark-skinned girl, looked pleased, while the other man with a sickly pallor slumped over, both of them staring straight ahead.
The bus rumbled around the corner, making Miki glance over in Hisao's general direction. She caught herself however, and quickly looked back her way.
She sighed, obviously not expecting this turn of events.
"Look Hisao, I know you have a lot of questions, and I can't promise you that I have all the answers." She sighed as the bus came to a stop in front of them. "But what I'm asking of you is to trust me."
She hadn't been through what he'd been through. Miki wasn't there for him when they took Suzu. Why the hell did she come here, now, saying that she had answers and expected him to follow her?
He was about to say no, before Miki interrupted him.
"It's the only way you're going to get her back." She said, her voice quickening as the clock was ticking. The bus driver cast an annoyed glare in their direction. "I know how much you've sacrificed for her, I mean jesus, just look at you."
He flexed his fingers into a fist. It took all of his strength not to punch her in the jaw.
"…but you're not safe. They're coming for you." His anger suddenly collapsed, filled with yet more questions. How did she know this? How did she know any of this? His mind flashed back to his school days, where Miki's silver tongue had convinced him more than once to do her bidding. He knew her, she wasn't one to have ulterior motives.
"And you know that I want her back as much as you."
Breaking their little code, he looked at his side, looking at her for the first time in 8 years. Her face had changed, she now looked the part of a young woman. Miki's trademark hair was shorter, now coming only down to her shoulders. She was wearing gray turtleneck with a simple chained necklace, bring attention to the simple blue jeans she currently had on. Her brown eyes that once held her mischievous glint now held only determination and courage.
She was nothing like the Miki he had once known, and at the same time exactly like the friend he once had. He wasn't sure which he hated and which he liked.
"Now c'mon Gaylord, clock's ticking." Her insult of choice caused Hisao's once omnipresent smile, albeit suppressed, to show once more. She stood up, and stepped into the bus.
It wasn't like him now, but for the first time in a while he actually felt some semblance of hope.
And so, with these thoughts in mind, he stepped onto the bus. The bus driver gave him a most peculiar look, before turning away as Hisao dumped whatever change he had on him into the small receptacle. Miki had sat near the end of the bus, taking the window seat.
The bus was nearly empty, the only people currently on the bus were right next to him. He stepped through the narrow median of the bus, carefully stepping around a pair of feet as he made his way to the back.
Miki patted the seat next to her, and so without any other feasible option, he sat next to her. Hisao exhaled out of his nose as he sat on the soft surface. He hadn't had comfort like this in a long, long time. Not that he denied himself of it, he just didn't think it mattered anymore.
She turned her head. "I'd love to answer all of your questions Hisao, but we'd better wait until we get to my place." Miki kept her head down, obviously paranoid about something. She was trying her best to hide it, like she did about all her problems. Suzu had told him about how she used to stay over in Miki's room to comfort her when she had her phantom pains. Almost as if his thoughts had triggered it, Miki ran her right hand over her stump.
He almost did a double-take. The omnipresent bandage that wrapped itself over her missing left hand was gone. Hisao didn't catch himself staring at it. It took Miki painfully jabbing her elbow into his chest to make him notice. She flashed him a look as if to say "It's not polite to stare." Her eyes seemed to carry her constant tone of sarcasm.
He resigned himself to leaning back in his seat, his back sending it's numerous thanks to his brain.
The rain grew heavier, slamming against the bus's windows with all of its incredibly small might. The urban jungle outside of his window turned into a blur as the bus transferred to the highway, inertia almost making Miki and Hisao's shoulders touch.
She didn't care, instead thumbing the pockets of her jeans as she tried to get a look of what was behind the bus. She hid her paranoia better than most people, but even Hisao could tell she was concerned greatly about something. The way her eyes shifted, checking every inch of the bus. She looked back out the window twice in succession.
Were they really this threatened?
The questions kept piling in Hisao's head, his dull eyes stood still as he tried to comprehend everything he'd been so suddenly thrusted into.
But he had one goal in mind, one thought that superseded every other. And as long as Miki shared that mindset, they might just get along.