—Chapter 4—Friday, April 29th, Morning—

The light poured in from her bedroom window, shining right onto her face. Makoto squirmed, turning away, but it was too late—she was awake.

Sticking out her arms and pointing her toes, Makoto stretched wide and long, yawning loudly. Breathing in a slow, contented sigh, Makoto greeted the day with ease. She wondered vaguely why she hadn't closed her blinds before going to bed. She tried to remember why she might have forgotten—but she couldn't. She'd been at the party, but then what?

Panicking, she shot upright in bed, and her mind raced. How did I get home? I can't remember… Makoto flung her sheets back and jumped in surprise at what she saw—she was still wearing her skirt and blouse from last night. She pulled her legs out and swung them down over the side of the bed, knocking over a garbage can that didn't belong there. This, along with a mysterious scrape on her knee, raised even more questions. Standing up, she tried to straighten her rumpled clothing—the pleats of her skirt might not recover. Trying to walk, it became clear that her underwear was wildly out of place. Lifting her skirt to fix things, she was mystified by what she saw.

Her panties, partially torn at the crotch, had been pulled down far enough that they didn't even cover her ass. She sat slowly back down on her bed as the realization of what this signified began to hit her. Oh shit… fuck… What the hell happened to me?

Makoto removed her skirt, and ripped off her underwear like they were tainted. She headed for her wardrobe, producing a fresh pair of panties and some sweats. Her blouse and her bra remained in place.

She needed to call Tetsuo, but her phone wasn't on the charger at her nightstand like normal. Must still be in my coat pocket, she thought. She headed for the living room, and the coat rack by the door.

Flinging her bedroom door open wide, she took two steps before stopping dead in her tracks—Ren was asleep on her couch. In the few weeks since school had started, Ren had yet to visit her house—he didn't know where she lived. Had he taken her home? She tried to conjure an explanation that would fit with all the evidence she'd gathered so hastily since waking, but before she could suss it out even a little bit, Ren's phone chimed.

Ren shifted on the couch. His phone chimed again. Half-asleep, he reached for it, pawing at the unfamiliar coffee table. Ren finally remembered where he was.

"Shit!" he blurted, sobering up instantly. Sitting up, he planted his feet on the floor. Turning, he saw Makoto standing there watching him, and he startled. "Oh!" he cried, "I'm so sorry, I hadn't meant to stay over…"

Makoto didn't say anything right away. She swallowed hard, trying to will her vocal cords into compliance. "What," she grunted, pausing to clear her throat, "What happened last night?"

Ren looked at her sympathetically before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What do you remember?" he asked, still looking at her.

Makoto's jaw quivered. "Nothing!" she cried. "I don't remember a goddamn thing! I told you to take your glasses off, that's the last thing I recall…" Ren nodded, recalling that same moment. "Ren," she said, hugging herself, "Why… Why was my underwear…?" She couldn't finish her question.

Ren gave a defeated sigh, leaning back on the couch and letting his head hit the wall. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't check there. Was it… messed up?"

Makoto reddened—where had he checked? "Was there something else besides that?"

He closed his eyes. "Just some… blouse buttons."

Makoto crossed her arms, hugging herself again. "What happened?"

He paused, setting his jaw. "Tetsuo," he said, lifting his head off the wall and reopening his eyes.

She was baffled. "What do you mean, 'Tetsuo'?"

"He was… I saw him."

"What?" she cried in disbelief. "But that's… I mean, we've never…"

"I think he was getting impatient."

Makoto was aghast. "Are you saying he…"

"I think he was trying to, yes."

Speechless, she sat down in the lounge chair in the corner, and searched for words. "Tell me," she said.

Ren shifted in his seat, looking down at his hands. "You remember playing pool?"

She nodded.

"You remember going inside to talk?"

"Yes."

"But you don't remember what happened from there?"

She shook her head. "I can remember your glasses, and a little bit after that, but then it's impossible."

"Well," he said, preparing himself, "after you asked me to take off my glasses, you sat down on the couch. You'd sent Tetsuo into the kitchen to get you a beer, and he joined you there when he came back. I wasn't sure you could handle another beer by that point, since you were already getting… pretty sleepy. And Tetsuo was… making me uncomfortable, the way he was treating you, so I left to try to find anyone else who could keep him in line—that guy hates me, he would never stop doing something just because I told him not to… Jiro and Naomi had already left by that point. Emiko was in the kitchen. We talked. She tried to reassure me, telling me I could trust him to get you home safe… So she and I just talked some more, for a little while—I wanted to trust her, that she was right about him—but when I went back to the living room, you were pretty much gone… Totally out of it… And Tetsuo, he was getting…" he paused, looking for the right word, "bolder, I thought. So I hung around…" Ren sighed, looking disappointed with himself. "She said he'd take you home… That's all he was supposed to do…"

"And then?" she asked calmly.

"Well, then he dragged you home—practically literally. I had to give him a world of shit about what he was doing to you before I was able to badger him into taking you home, but he finally did. I was still feeling paranoid though—so I followed you. And then, after he finally got you here, he didn't put you to bed. I, uh, saw through the window…" he said, pointing. "I managed to get him to leave, but I… had to sort of fuck up his car to do it. I smashed a window, and the alarm drew him outside. After that, he left… He just left you here, on the fucking couch," he added, exasperated, "but he left."

"So… Did he… That is, how far…?" she asked nervously, hugging herself.

He shook his head. "As far as I could tell, not very far. I think I got him to leave before he was able to do more than just…" Ren gestured with his hands, trying to put things into words. "Anyway, yeah. It stopped."

"What happened to my leg?" she asked, pointing at her knee through her sweatpants. "It's all banged up."

Ren looked away in disgust. "He dropped you, while he was carrying you home."

Makoto gave a sad laugh, shaking her head. "So he left me on the couch. And you took it from there."

"Well, yeah. I just meant to stay a few minutes, to make sure you didn't wake up in a panic. I didn't mean to crash here."

"I woke up in a panic anyway. I'm glad you were here."

"Okay, good," he said, rubbing his face in his hands. "It wasn't my intention to overstep…"

Makoto waved her hand dismissively at him. She thought back over everything she'd heard, fitting it together with what else she knew, and looking for other holes in the narrative. She suddenly remembered why she'd come out in the first place. "Where's my coat? Did I leave it at the party? How did I get in?"

"Oh, your coat's in your room—I hung it on the chair. Tetsuo used his key."

Makoto balked at this. "'His' key?"

"Yeah, his key. What?"

"Ren, he and I have been dating for three months—you think I gave him a key to my house?"

"Well—Makoto... He had his own key. I watched him fish it out of his pocket."

She put her head in her hands. "Oh, fuck… Oh fuck oh fuck…"

Ren knew this was hard for Makoto—on many levels. Tetsuo had already struck Ren as the kind of macho dipshit who seemed quick to jealousy, but even he hadn't suspected the problems ran as deep as they did. If he'd made a copy of Makoto's house key without her knowledge or permission… "Are you alright?" he asked.

Makoto sucked in a shaky chestful of air, letting it out slowly. "I will be," she said.

"Why don't you get a shower?" he suggested. "I can make us breakfast. Do you mind if I poke around in your kitchen?"

She shook her head. "No. That sounds nice. Thank you." Makoto stood up and headed back into her room. Inside, she found her coat hanging exactly where he'd said, and in its pockets, her house key and her phone. The phone was dead, so she plugged it in at her nightstand, and switched off the lamp there. The garbage can and the glass of water were his doing as well, she presumed—he'd even rebuttoned her blouse. Makoto's face flushed with embarrassment. It was definitely time for a shower.

Back in the living room, Ren grabbed his phone off the coffee table and went the opposite direction into the kitchen. Walking past the dinette set, he spotted Makoto's beer from last night. He'd grabbed it out of paranoia, but if Tetsuo had done something actually criminal, which was looking more and more plausible, having evidence of wrongdoing would make it easier to keep him away from Makoto.

Opening the fridge, Ren found it well-stocked with a selection of healthy foods. Assuming there would be rice somewhere in the cabinets, he pulled out a package of tofu and a jar of pickled radishes. He had to open a few different cabinets, but he did eventually locate rice, and even some sesame seeds. Further digging produced a rice cooker and the other essential tools he would need.

Ren got the rice going and started warming a pan over the stove. Also: coffee. Then he pulled out his phone. Two messages from Jiro, both sent this morning:

I just got home
Where are u?

Ren wasn't in the mood for a lengthy text message discussion, but he didn't want his roommate to worry either, so he fired off a quick 'Long story. Tell you later' and put his phone back in his pocket. He tossed the chunks of tofu into the pan, which responded with a satisfying sizzle. Later, he would add the pickled radishes and sesame. He spent the next ten minutes idly pushing the food around in the pan, while his mind pored over everything he'd seen lately, and what he might do about it going forward. He reminded himself not to be too overbearing or pushy with regard to Tetsuo. He had his opinions, certainly, but ultimately, what to do about him had to be Makoto's decision. For the next few minutes, Ren puttered around the kitchen, adding spices here, cleaning up there.

"That smells terrific," said Makoto, padding into the kitchen in her bare feet. She had combed her wet hair, but besides that, had made little effort to get ready for the day—she was still in her bathrobe. "Oh, and you made coffeeeee…" she said gratefully, inhaling deeply over the pot. "Mmm, thank you." She reached into a nearby cabinet and produced two identical mugs, pouring a cup for each of them.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She carried both mugs to the table and took a seat. "A bit, yes. I'm not really sure, but… I think so." She took a long sip of coffee, savoring it. Even with her crappy coffee and her crappy coffee maker, this was better than she was used to drinking. As she sat comfortably, waiting for breakfast to materialize, her eyes wandered. There at the table with her was an open beer, about two-thirds full. Makoto kept a tidy home—she didn't leave dead soldiers lying around. She searched for the likeliest explanation. "What's this beer here? Did you bring that?"

Ren pushed the food around in the pan. "Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Hold on," he said. "Let me get breakfast on the table."

Ren removed the pan from the heat and turned off the stove. The timer on the rice cooker dinged. Ren helped himself to plates and utensils, and prepared a dish for each of them. Meeting her at the table, he set one plate down and slid the other in front of her, taking the seat next to her. There was already a cup of coffee waiting for him at his place.

Their first few bites were taken in silence.

"This is really good," Makoto said after a time.

"I'm glad you like it." What followed was a pause so pregnant it made Makoto's chest tighten. "So," he said finally. "The beer."

"The beer," she repeated.

"Yeah… Makoto…" Ren sighed. "Do you trust Tetsuo?"

Makoto stopped chewing for a moment, thinking it over. She swallowed. "I thought I did. I need to talk to him about what happened. Give him a chance to explain."

That's fair, he thought. But besides the trust issue, there remained other elements of their relationship he couldn't understand. "Last night aside… Are you happy with him?" Ren was trying to tread as lightly as possible. He cared about her. About her happiness, her welfare, her fulfillment. He didn't like Tetsuo, but that wasn't really relevant—his feelings didn't matter here. If there was something about her relationship to Tetsuo that he didn't understand—that made her happy—then he didn't want to push her away from him just to satisfy himself.

But if he was going to stay quiet, he would make her make him understand.

"Tetsuo… has some good qualities," she said.

He wanted to stop her, to point out that that didn't answer his question, but he didn't. He would let her guide the direction of the conversation. "And what are those qualities?" he asked.

"Well," she started, preparing to make a list, "He's strong. He's very skilled and hardworking. Ambitious, observant… He cheers me on when I do well. He has a strong sense of justice…"

"Anything else?"

"He's handsome…"

Ren remained expressionless. "Go on."

Makoto appeared to struggle thinking of anything else.

So he circled back around to his original question: "Does he make you happy?"

Makoto looked like she was chewing on an answer, but before she could give it, she sat up a little straighter, listening intently. Standing up suddenly, she ran to the front window. The courtyard fence obscured her view of the street, but through the opening, there was enough of a view that she was able to spot a familiar red streak rolling past her house and slowing down.

"Shit, that's him!" she said urgently, scurrying back into the dining room.

Ren knew that if Tetsuo found him here, there would be hell to pay. There was a door from the kitchen into the back street behind her house. "I'll sneak out the back," he said, moving his plate and mug from the table to the counter on the far wall, where it would hopefully be out of sight.

"No! Please don't!" she shouted. Her eyes pleaded with him to stay.

Ren stopped in his tracks. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just… hide in the pantry!" she cried, quickly corralling him where she wanted him to go. On the right wall of the kitchen was a folding door leading into a large pantry room. She tore the door open, shoved him inside, and pulled it most of the way closed again.

"Do you just want me to listen?" he asked breathlessly from the dark of the pantry.

"I don't know, just don't go!"

There was a confident, rhythmic knock on the door, and Tetsuo called her name. He sounded almost chipper.

Makoto's heart was racing. Balling her fists at her sides, she took a long, steadying breath, and reset herself to answer the door. She padded into the living room and unlocked it, twisting the knob open. Tetsuo stepped immediately inside.

"Morning, babe! How's it going?" he asked, kissing her on the cheek as he stepped past her into the middle of the living room. This was the moment of truth. Ren listened intently.

"Uh, well, funny you should ask. Things aren't great…"

"Oh, tell me about it," he said. "Last night, some asshole broke into my car. I just thought I'd stop by on my way to the shop to get someone to look at it."

"Well, before you do that, I was hoping to talk to you about last night."

Tetsuo's relatively high energy deflated just a bit at that. "Oh?" he said. "What do you want to talk about, babe?"

"Let's have a seat," she said, gesturing to the couch.

Once they were seated, Makoto realized she'd erred—Ren's glasses were sitting right there on the coffee table. She hoped Tetsuo wouldn't notice them. To keep his attention on her, she maintained eye contact. "I can't remember how I got home last night. Can you fill me in?"

"Oh, easy. I brought you home," he said. "You were pretty drunk," he added.

"Is that when this happened?" she asked, pulling up her sweatpants and pointing at her scraped-up knee.

He shook his head. "That happened at the party. You fell and banged it on something."

Ren was confused. This seemed like a relatively innocuous, easily explainable detail—"I lost my grip when I was carrying you, and you hit the ground. Sorry." It was interesting that he would choose to lie about it.

Makoto didn't press the issue. "How did we get inside? I'm sure the door was locked."

"You opened it," he said.

That was much harder to believe. "Tetsuo, if I could barely walk, how could I get the door open?"

"Well, I helped you open it, I mean."

Makoto decided to start asking harder questions. "…Do you have a key to my house?"

Tetsuo blinked. "Well, you haven't given me a key…"

"That wasn't my question. Do you have a key to my house?" she repeated.

"No. Do you think I should have one?"

"Where was my key?" she asked, ignoring his question.

Tetsuo was getting annoyed. "What's with the twenty questions?" he asked. "I feel like I'm being interrogated."

"I just need to understand what happened. There are things that don't add up in my mind, and I need to get to the bottom of it." She tried to keep her eyes soft as she held his gaze. A pleading look, rather than an accusatory one.

"The key was in your coat pocket."

That could've been a lucky guess. "Okay, that makes sense. But there's one more thing…"

"What?"

"My… panties… were out of place. They'd been pulled down."

"Maybe you went to the bathroom and didn't get them up all the way?" That was a pretty quick answer. Quick enough that Ren wondered if he'd planned that answer in advance.

"They were torn," she added. This time, her tone was confrontational.

Tetsuo held his breath, taking his time exhaling. "I didn't want to have to tell you this…" he started. "I know he's your friend and all…"

From his hiding spot, Ren froze. So that was his gambit: Ren did it. He prayed Makoto wouldn't fall for it.

"Are you saying it was Ren?" she asked, her tone even. Ren would've felt better if there'd been any hint of incredulity there, but there wasn't. He told himself that she was deliberately avoiding making Tetsuo feel too defensive—that she needed him to remain disarmed. He hoped that wasn't blind optimism on his part.

"Yeah, baby, I'm sorry. I left you alone to get you a fresh beer, and when I got back, his hands were under your skirt. That's when I decided to take you home. I'm sorry."

Ren couldn't see Makoto's reaction, and there was nothing for him to hear. Please no, he thought.

Then: "Uh, whose are those? Those aren't his, are they?"

Shit—my glasses.

Tetsuo's voice had already gotten quite elevated—he was mad, but Ren couldn't tell if he was mad at Makoto, or just mad at the situation. Ren listened intently for any sign that Makoto was in trouble.

"Was that motherfucker here? Is he here now?" Tetsuo stood up, storming around the house loudly enough that Ren could hear his footfalls. Tetsuo started in the bedroom, looking for evidence. A few seconds later, he was in the kitchen bounding around. Ren could see him through the crack in the door. Makoto was there too, keeping a safe distance, watching, her hands raised in a placating gesture, muttering ineffectual words of calm.

Tetsuo surveyed the kitchen and dining room. Only one place setting remained, but two chairs were pushed out. Scanning the room, he spotted the second place setting on the back counter. She'd said he was observant.

Tetsuo immediately stomped toward the pantry and ripped the door open, throwing it off its track. "You!" he screamed, grabbing Ren by his shirt and yanking him out of the pantry.

"He was here all night?! You see, Makoto, I told you he wanted into your pants! Don't believe a word this asshole says to you!" Tetsuo held fast to Ren's shirt and neck, pinning him to the kitchen wall. He spat in Ren's face as he roared at him.

Makoto shouted for Tetsuo to get control of himself, but he would not be calmed. He was ranting and raving about Ren's perversions, how he was a liar and a predator, and how dare he trespass upon Makoto's pure and generous nature. It struck Ren as performative—and incredibly ironic.

Tetsuo was much bigger and stronger than Ren was, and Ren was unable to extricate himself from Tetsuo's grasp. Pinned to the wall, his feet were barely touching the floor—his options were to kick impotently at his attacker and risk a more violent countermeasure, or brace himself and hope to be let free. Makoto was trying to hold him back, but to Tetsuo, she was a fly in a lion's mane. She was pleading with him to get ahold of himself as though he were a normal person who responded to reason, but he wasn't.

Tetsuo paused in his outrage for a brief moment and his eyes narrowed, just as his grip on Ren's neck tightened. "You fucking put out my window too, didn't you?" he seethed. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you pathetic piece of shit. Do you hear me?"

Ren couldn't breathe. He was about to resort to the impotent kicking strategy when Makoto switched into gear. Grabbing Tetsuo's wrist and applying pressure to the ulnar nerve, Tetsuo cried out and lost his hold on Ren's neck. By twisting his arm behind his head while kicking him in the back of the knees, Makoto, in her bathrobe, was able to bring Tetsuo collapsing backwards onto the floor, his legs folded awkwardly underneath him. With his attacker blinded from the pain and the fury of it all, Ren could easily slip away.

Retrieving the butcher knife from the kitchen counter, Ren adopted a defensive stance with the blade held in a reverse grip, poised for an uppercut slash. Makoto had released the pressure on Tetsuo's wrist, and he lay squirming on the ground, clutching his arm. Watching him, Makoto backed away into the dining area.

Supine and surrounded, just like that, Tetsuo had been beaten. Clinging vainly to his pride, he turned over onto his knees and stood up slowly, leveling an accusing finger at Makoto. "You're making a huge mistake, Makoto. And you," he said, jabbing his finger in Ren's direction, "you're fucking dead. I'll teach you to fuck with my property." Tetsuo slunk past Makoto and into the living room. Spying Ren's glasses still resting on the coffee table, he picked them up and folded them in half until the lenses were touching, then pressed them together between his fingers until they shattered. "Compensation for my window," he spat. "Consider it a down payment." Then, Tetsuo left, slamming the door behind him.

Makoto quickly ran to the door and threw the deadbolt into place, but Tetsuo was already out of sight. They could hear his car revving up and speeding off. When the whine of its engine was finally out of earshot, they allowed themselves to breathe again.

"Are you alright?" Ren asked, finally lowering the knife to the counter and standing up straight.

"Yes," Makoto nodded. "I am." She shook her head in dismay. "If he really believed that you'd assaulted me, he'd have been more outraged by that than he was about his stupid window. Dick."

Makoto straightened her bathrobe around her waist and tightened the knot holding it closed. Dropping herself into a chair at the table, she took a cleansing breath and pulled the ends of her robe down over her knees. She sat very rigidly, like she was trying to look composed in spite of everything that had happened.

Ren looked at her, assessing. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," she replied, with a single shake of her head. "I'm glad it's over. I feel… liberated."

He watched her for another few seconds, trying to see if her strength would last, or if it was just an act she was putting on for his benefit. She looked unnerved, but solid. That was the Makoto he remembered.

But there was still Tetsuo to worry about. Ren found it plausible that he would try to make good on the threats he'd made, and he didn't think he would let Makoto go that easily. They needed to protect themselves. "You need to get that tested," he said, pointing at the beer bottle, still sitting innocently on the far end of the table.

Makoto turned to look. "The beer?"

"You're in Forensic Chemistry, right? You have access to lab equipment? Reagents, that sort of thing?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Test it for date rape drugs. It comes up positive, you take it to the cops."

"Jesus…" The import of all of this was hitting her.

"And get your locks changed." He fixed her with an intent stare. "He's not screwing around, Makoto. The 'property' he meant I was fucking with? That was you."

Makoto sat down in her chair from earlier, next to her cold breakfast, and pulled the folds of her bathrobe tighter around her. "Yeah," she said. She knew he was right. It wasn't over.