—Chapter 5—Friday, April 29th, Late Morning—
In flagrant disregard of the school's recommendation that no one walk around alone, Ren eventually made it back to his dorm. Though he'd managed to sleep through the night at Makoto's house, he didn't feel fully rested, and he walked the distance as though he were in a trance. The building R.A. greeted him as he approached, and he rode the elevator up to the third floor. He had already texted a quick 'OMW' to Jiro, so the door was ajar when he arrived. Ren pushed it open and stepped inside.
Jiro was sitting at his desk playing Soul Calibur on his PlayStation and thirteen-inch TV circa 1997. Pausing immediately, he greeted Ren with the toothiest grin he'd ever seen. "Oh my god, that was the greatest party. Thank you so much for taking me, I had such a good time! Naomi and I stayed up for hours playing video games and talking. Then, since it had gotten so late, she made a bed for me on the floor made almost exclusively of stuffed animals. She's so adorable!"
Ren let out a short laugh. "I'm so glad," he said, flopping into a bean bag chair they'd set up in front of the emergency exit window, relaxing into it.
"You look beat, though," Jiro said, looking him over. "Jesus, your neck! What the hell happened?"
"What, is it bruised?" he said, bringing his hands to his neck and palpating it gingerly.
"Yes, it is. Did you and some girl get kinky with some asphyxiation shit or something? You know, people have died from that…"
"Ha, no, we didn't all have romantic evenings last night."
"Well then what the hell, man? Why are you just now getting in?"
Ren let out a long sigh. He really didn't know where to begin.
Jiro studied him. "Something with Makoto?" he guessed. Ren nodded. "That boyfriend of hers is a piece of work. He didn't strangle you, did he?"
Ren answered him with a look.
Jiro's eyes went wide. "He didn't really strangle you, did he? Oh my god! That's so fucked up! What the hell did you do to deserve that? Wait, don't tell me: You looked at Makoto the wrong way, and his caveman instincts took over."
Ren laughed weakly, leaning his head back against the window sill. "That is astoundingly close to the truth, actually."
"How did it end with Makoto? Is she pissed at him? Or pissed at you? Or both…"
"Him," he answered.
"Well, that's good!" chirped Jiro. "Are they gonna break up?"
Ren had to chuckle—as if that was the question that was most weighing on him at this moment.
—
Makoto took her time getting dressed. Absentmindedly pushing things around in her wardrobe, it took her a long time to decide what to wear, though she couldn't say why. There was no mental consideration or thought put into why she was rejecting something, or what exactly she was looking for, but it was several minutes of flipping through things, opening and closing drawers, and flipping through things again, before she had finally pulled things out to put on. Ultimately, she ended up wearing a pink three-quarter-sleeve knit turtleneck and a pair of slim-fitting brown capri pants—each of which had been on the top of their respective stacks of neatly folded clothing. To complete the look, she slipped on a pair of sensible black flats.
It was Friday, April 29th—Showa Day, and the start of Golden Week. Makoto had no plans for how to spend it. She suddenly realized that, in three short months, she had abdicated almost all responsibility for planning what to do with herself to Tetsuo. He always had opinions on what would be the most fun or make the most sense to do, and was always so persuasive in his arguments pushing for them. She had gotten used to passively agreeing to whatever he had decided they would do. Now that they were broken up, she was faced with a whole week to herself and no plan for how to spend it. As she stared at herself in the mirror, assessing what she'd put on, she saw someone unfamiliar and new.
Stepping out of her bedroom, Makoto took in the view of the rest of her home. She loved this house. Her sister had bought it last year as an investment property, predicting housing costs would increase enough over time that she could earn back a tidy sum in rental income, and in the meantime, Makoto could enjoy a nice home at a family rate. Even though it wasn't hers, she felt like she owned this house, and she was loath to leave it.
But she would have to leave it, at least for a little while. Until she could get the locks changed, she wouldn't feel safe here. She needed to get her things together and come up with some temporary lodgings as soon as possible.
She spent some time cleaning up before getting her things together to depart. Not that she would allow herself to admit it, but she was procrastinating. Ren had already cleaned up most of the mess he'd made making breakfast for them, and there was very little else to have to address. She spent some time picking the broken bits and pieces of Ren's glasses out of the low-pile carpet in the living room, and she straightened the couch cushions where he'd spent the night. The shoes she'd worn to the party last night were tucked neatly next to the couch. That's right, she thought, this is where Tetsuo left me, before Ren carried me off to bed. She picked her shoes up and put them away.
In the kitchen and dining area, the unfinished plates of food were exactly as they'd left them when Tetsuo had suddenly shown up. Not wanting the food to go to waste, she shoveled some of Ren's leftovers onto her plate and put it in the microwave. While she waited, she tidied up his dirty dish and the few things he had left in the sink. The pantry door was off its track, but she wasn't sure she could fix that right away. It would have to be a future problem.
The microwave chimed, and she pulled the food out and took it to the table, pausing to push in Ren's chair before sitting down to eat. As she ate, her mind roamed over everything she needed to remember to do: Pack a bag. Call someone about staying over. Call a locksmith. Call a handyman. She glanced at the beer bottle still sitting on the table. Get to the chem lab… Maybe file a restraining order…
It was enough to drive a normal person into a fit of depression. That, or scream in frustration. Makoto settled for a muttered 'God dammit'.
Sighing, Makoto took another bite of food and pulled out her phone.
After a couple rings, Emiko answered. "Hi Makoto, what's up?" she answered cheerfully.
"Hi, Emiko, how are you? Listen," she continued, not waiting for an answer, "I have a big favor to ask."
"Anything, Mako-chan. What can I do?"
"Could I… stay with you for a couple days?"
"What? I mean, of course. But why?"
"Tetsuo and I broke up, and I… I don't feel safe here right now. He has a key to my house that I didn't give him, and it'll take me a little while to get the locks changed."
"He made a copy of your key without your permission? Wow, what the hell? That's really screwed up… How did you find out?"
"When Tetsuo took me home last night, Ren followed us, and watched him pull it out of his pocket."
"Oh wow. Ren was following you guys? I mean, I could already tell he didn't like Tetsuo, but that all by itself isn't a reason to follow someone home…"
"Well, in any case, I'm glad he did, because right now pretty much everything I know about what happened to me last night has come from him—I can't remember anything that happened last night, after a certain point. Can you tell me anything about what was going on before I left?" Makoto trusted Ren—she wasn't trying to corroborate his story—she just wanted to know if Emiko had any information that could help fill out the narrative.
Emiko tried to remember. "I was talking to Ren for a bit in the living room. You seemed okay at that point. I left to get another beer and ended up talking to Momo in the kitchen. Ren came in a little while later, worried about you—he thought you might pass out, but I told him not to worry—that Tetsuo would get you home. We chatted for a bit longer, and he eventually left—or no, he said he was leaving, but he didn't actually end up leaving for a little while after that. At one point—I was still in the kitchen—he came in and told me you had left, and that he was calling it a night. I thought he was just going home—I didn't think he was going to follow you guys…"
Makoto sighed—Emiko didn't sound like she had any new information. "So you don't know how drunk I was?"
"No, sorry. The last time I saw you, you seemed perfectly alert. Tipsy, but alert. You must have gotten wasted pretty quickly." There was a pregnant pause. "What did Ren say about what happened?"
Makoto sighed. "I'll tell you the whole thing later. For now, I think I just need to get out of here. I'll pack my things and come over as soon as I can. Is that going to be alright?"
"Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks. You're doing me a huge favor already."
"Okay, I'll see you when you get here. Take care, Makoto."
"Bye." Makoto ended the call. She took another look at the mostly full beer on the table. Pushing out her chair, she got up, scraped the last of her breakfast into the trash, put the dirty plate in the sink, and left to pack her bag.
—Friday, April 29th, Afternoon—
Back in their dorm room, Ren and Jiro were passing some time playing Need for Speed on Jiro's old PlayStation. Jiro was the better racer, but Ren wasn't really playing to win—it was just something to do while they talked. Ren had given Jiro the full story about everything that had happened at the party after the two of them parted ways, all the way up to the blowup with Tetsuo this morning.
"You think she believes you? Over the boyfriend's story, I mean? After all, it's your word against his." Jiro jerked left in tandem with the movement of his racer.
"I think so. Though it's true that there's no real evidence that my accounting of events is more fact-based than his, I think his generally shitty behavior this morning speaks to his character. He's a possessive, vindictive prick, and I think that was on full display for her today."
"You think he'll do something? He did threaten to smite you or some shit, didn't he?" Jiro bit his lip as he swerved between two other cars.
Ren sighed. "Oh, I don't know… I haven't figured out whether he's actually a psychopath, or just a blowhard." Ren crashed his car into an embankment. "Dammit," he cursed.
"Can you believe this dude is in law enforcement? Makes me ashamed."
"No doubt, he's doing it for the wrong reasons. Makoto said he had a 'strong sense of justice', but that's got to be a smokescreen. He's either an adept liar telling her what she wants to hear, or his 'sense of justice' is that he should get special treatment, and the rules are for everyone else."
"Aw, there we go!" Jiro cried, dropping his controller in his lap and raising his hands in celebration. "First place, aw yeah!" Ren still had half a lap to go.
Jiro's phone meowed. "OOOH! That's Naomi's text alert noise!"
"Meowing?" Ren asked, incredulous.
"She likes Hello Kitty," he said, unlocking his phone. "And I wanted to make sure I didn't miss a single text, so I personalized her alert noise."
"You're really smitten."
"Dude, I know. I think she may be the one."
Ren laughed as he set his controller down on the desk, having finally finished his race. "No, I'm happy for you. She's a sweet girl. I have kind of a hard time picturing her as a detective, though. Is she, uh… smart?" he asked tentatively. Ren didn't want to sound rude, but brains were important to him.
"Well, she's not dumb," he said. "Ooo! She's inviting me over! Yes, yes, yes!"
Ren laughed. "Hey, what happened to studying Criminal Law with me?" he asked sarcastically. "We have important court cases to read about. The history of the presumption of innocence! Jiro!"
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Jiro, but he answered seriously anyway. "Dude, we have all week to do that stuff. This is Golden Week, and a girl actually likes me. I would be a fool not to do this."
"No fools here," proclaimed Ren, with a confident shake of his head.
"Can I borrow your satchel? It's the perfect size for an overnight bag."
Ren was stunned. "Did she invite you to spend the night?"
"No, of course not, but I aim to be prepared. I spent the night last night—not that we messed around, we just played games and talked until we conked out—but it's possible, right?"
"I suppose it is. I guess I'm eating alone tonight then."
"Aw man, I'm sorry. Do you want me to ask if you can join us for dinner? She's making teriyaki!" he said, flapping his hands in excitement.
Ren shook his head, smiling. "No, no, I'll manage. Enjoy your teriyaki, and whatever may follow."
"This is seriously the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I feel like calling my mom."
Ren chuckled, reaching for his school bag, and his Criminal Law textbook.
Jiro opened his dresser and began pulling things out and stuffing them into Ren's satchel. He glanced at Ren, sitting at his desk with his textbook, and his heart went out to him. "Man, look at you," he said sympathetically. "This is so pathetic, you studying alone in this sad little room… You should call Makoto—see what she's up to."
"I'll be fine," said Ren, flipping through the pages of his book. "Besides, I'm trying not to bother Makoto right now. She has a lot on her mind."
"You don't want to step in? Be Mister Supportive? That's a good look, you know."
"That doesn't feel right."
"Man, you're such a good guy. Some of us have to use whatever edge God gave us to get girls to notice us. I got into video games because I couldn't get girls to notice me—I never would have guessed that video games would be how I'd get my first girlfriend—well, 'girlfriend'," he added, in scare quotes, "... I'm not sure we're there yet."
"Godspeed," replied Ren.
"Well anyway, if she comes to you, don't push her away. Let her let you be the good guy."
Ren sighed. "We're just friends, Jiro."
"Right, and I'm sure you've never thought about taking that further. Don't think of this as opportunistic. Think of it as 'about goddamn time'."
Ren uncapped his highlighter, but had already lost his place in the text he was barely paying attention to.
"Anyway, I'm out. I hope I don't see you soon! Byeeee!" Jiro gave a single, broad wave from the open doorway, closing it behind him. Ren lowered his head into his book, and tried to think about the rights of the accused, and nothing else.
—
A pillow and a big stack of soft blankets were all laid out on the couch by the time Makoto arrived at Emiko and Naomi's house. Emiko welcomed her inside with a hot cup of tea ready and waiting.
Makoto stood her suitcase next to the couch and gratefully accepted the tea. "Oh, Emiko, thank you. This is just what I need right now."
"I'm so glad I could help," she said, smiling sympathetically.
"So what's up with Tetsuo?" asked Naomi. "Emiko had no details…"
Makoto took a seat on the couch, and the two other women made themselves comfortable—Emiko in a small armchair, and Naomi on the floor by the coffee table. "Last night at the party… I think Tetsuo may have drugged me."
The women gasped. "No…" said Naomi, shocked. "How can you be sure?"
"I actually have the last beer I had here with me—Ren kept it, and I sealed it up to take to the chem lab, so I'll know for sure soon enough. But I trust Ren's accounting of things."
"Did he see Tetsuo drug the beer?" asked Emiko.
"No, I think he just inferred it. Tetsuo brought me all my drinks, and I guess I went from tipsy to unconscious too quickly for just beer. I can't remember anything after my third one, which I hadn't even finished. I didn't finish the fourth one either…"
"So you think you drank the equivalent of about three beers?" said Emiko. "That does seem like not really enough beer to cause you to black out…"
"According to Ren, Tetsuo started groping me while I was passed out on the couch, so he pestered him into taking me home, and he followed us there."
"What a sweetie!" cried Naomi. "I mean, Tetsuo's a dick, but Ren is a sweetie! He's your guardian angel!" Makoto blushed. "What happened then?" asked Naomi, leaning forward attentively.
"Ren smashed Tetsuo's car window to get his alarm to go off, and Tetsuo took off at that point. Ren put me to bed, and spent the night on my couch. When I woke up this morning, I found him there, and he told me the whole story. Then he made breakfast while I took a shower."
"Ohmygod, I love this man," effused Naomi. "He is so in love with you."
Makoto shook her head. "He always looks out for other people, Naomi," she said. "It's just what he does, it doesn't mean anything special. And besides, I thought you were interested in him?"
"I was, and I still think he's super cute and interesting and all that, but I'm kind of into Jiro right now, actually."
"Jiro?" cried Makoto, surprised. "Really? How did that happen?"
"It turns out we have a bunch of stuff in common! And he's such a dork, it's adorable. I invited him over, actually. He's coming for dinner—I'm making teriyaki!" She beamed.
Makoto smiled at her friend's excitement. She was about to ask if she should find somewhere to bug out for the evening, when there was a knock at the door.
Naomi popped up and ran to the door. "Eeeee!" she squealed, "You got here fast!" she said, pulling Jiro inside.
Jiro practically tripped getting in the door, but all anyone noticed was the wide, goofy grin on his face that spoke of his happiness to be there. "Hi!" he called out, greeting the women. "Oh! Makoto! I wasn't expecting you to be here. Are you doing okay?"
Makoto grimaced. "Did Ren tell you everything?"
"Well, I sort of made him tell me, sorry," he said, shrugging. "I saw the bruises on his neck and made him spill the beans."
"Neck bruises?" cried Emiko. "What happened? Makoto, you skipped that part!"
"I didn't skip it," she said, in her own defense, "I just never got that far. While we were eating breakfast, Tetsuo showed up, and things quickly spiraled out of control…" She looked at Jiro, a sorrowful expression on her face. "Is he okay?"
Jiro waved it off. "He seems fine. When I left, he was dutifully studying his Criminal Law text."
Makoto frowned. "I feel bad…"
"Hey, don't," he said. "He cares about you—he has no regrets, and no permanent damage was done. Though, I was wondering, how seriously you think he should take the threats Tetsuo leveled against him?"
Naomi and Emiko perked up with worry. "Threats?"
"Yeah," said Jiro. "Is he serious when he says shit like, 'You're fucking dead', 'I'm going to kill you', and all that? Is he just being a macho-man, or do those words have teeth?" Emiko and Naomi, rapt, turned from Jiro to Makoto to listen to her answer.
Makoto put her head in her hands. She cursed herself for not having been able to see this coming. Had she ignored the signs on purpose? She had involved herself with a man who turned out not to be what he'd seemed, and as she listened to the reactions of people who weren't there to witness it, she realized he was much more unstable than she had imagined. She honestly didn't know what he was capable of.