Akishima, Japan

June 1998

Dark puffy storm clouds thundered with ease across the wide grassy fields that made up the landing strips at Yokota Air Force Base, the sprawling nearly eighteen hundred acre facility that made up the seat of shared military power between the United States and Japan here in humble Akishima, a town of nearly ninety thousand people. The storm clouds were massive in size, several thousand feet up in the atmosphere and imposing like a great marching battalion in goose step as they rumbled and rolled down from the far off green mountain peaks, Mt. Mito and Koganezawa. The smell of dew was sickly sweet as the clouds slowly made their approach, the first rain bands dumping on the little wood homes and shacks towards the top and middle of the mountain peaks miles out.

Sitting unhappily under the concrete bus shelter, tapping her foot, Azusa Tamura thought to herself, I'm gonna get caught in the fucking rain again.

The bus service around here was miserable; always late but never early was her unofficial motto thinking about it. You could be here on the dot at every dot, and you'd still be waiting at least an extra five minutes for a ride. The buses were a relic of 'better' days, gas-guzzling breadbox looking silver elephants that had a particular whine as they rattled up and down the pock-filled asphalt roads of her neighborhood. She lived with her mom all the way out in Tachikawa, in some gaudy brutalist-looking government housing that sprung up after the war and where you could never get a proper good night's sleep without headphones because of all the civilian planes landing at the nearby airport. She took some drawing classes at the local college and worked at Yokota Air Base in the mess hall, spooning bowls of soup and serving bread rolls with a forced grin for all the handsome young bucks and soldiers that came in from all parts of the world to train and study at the base; she saw strapping, muscular men from Germany, Korea, England, sometimes a few Spanish and exotic types but a majority of those wide-eyed winner-takes-it-all mentality transfers came from the great United States of America.

And she hated every second of it. She hated the unflattering gray-white apron she wore, forever stained with the splatters of sauce and mush from decades past. She hated the hairnets, she hated the heat of the mess hall whose air conditioning was usually on the fritz but the grunts never seemed to mind (not like they would, they spent eight weeks training without it anyway). She hated the girls, ugh, the gossipy too-too chatty girls with their cheap makeup and "I'm too good for this" demeanors she worked with who were really just from the same miserable bunch as her, who lived with their parents and took the bus to work at the military bases because it was better than working at a strip club or a love hotel or, worse, at a goddamn fishing cannery like some peasant second-rate trash. She knew some of the girls from high school who did that, and she gagged at the thought of working there because even though the pay was somewhat better than working for the military ironing uniforms or serving food the smell of rotting tuna meat never really left your skin even if you scrubbed it pink with a steel wool pad and burning hot water.

But she knew she was bellyaching, it wasn't all that bad. The benefits were superb, dental and eyes and medical. It paid weekly, and it was a fair rate of pay considering how simple the work was; just ladling pre-made trays of water-based eggs and bacon and meatloaf and potatoes into bowls and putting up with the constant winks and half-ass flirts from the GIs who thought they were sooo hot shit because they wore a uniform. Not that she really minded; some, especially the younger ones were kinda cute actually, although her mom would throw a huge fit if she ever fell in love and tried to marry one. Her parents were full-blooded Japanese going back a few dozen generations, with her father dying of diabetes when she was a teenager, but she remembers the two of them at their tiny dinner table at the house they used to own always going on and on about how the Americans were "ruining the quality of life" in Japan, how we as a people could never grow into its own identity because we owed those slack-jawed gum-chewing yanks too much. Not arguing with each other, just agreeing absentmindedly but never actually proposing a solution on how to get out from under Uncle Sam's boot. In their minds, they (the Americans) were the ones who firebombed us into oblivion all those decades ago, and were we supposed to say sorry to them forever and stay in their debt? Because they helped us rebuild and sponsor 2/3rds of our military and keep the Kims and Maos off our backs? At the expense of what? The destruction of our independence? The loss of our identity?

Well, maybe, she thought. It wasn't an abusive relationship with the US. It was either that or after the war let the Soviet Union steamroll us into oblivion and turn us communist just like North Korea, where your whole bloodline could be erased just for the thought of watching a Western film. She had always wanted to say that to her parents but feared the potential argument (her parents never hit her), and after Dad died Mom always kept her more stronger political opinions to herself. She remembered the frown she gave when she first announced she got a job at Yokota, a few months after high school, but after they sold the house and had to find something cheaper anything was–

The sun was already beginning to set, and the approaching rainstorm only made her surroundings darker. The first crackle of lightning broke across the sweet summer sky, briefly illuminating her world. Azusa rubbed her eyes and yawned. God, she was tired. She had been at work since almost six in the morning and couldn't wait to go to sleep, taking in an extra shift for another girl who called off the day before. Something about no babysitter. Having kids was never a thought that crossed her mind, what with all of her "big plans" in life and having a baby bump offered no favors especially as a single woman. Azusa Tamura was going to be a mangaka, selling her own original literature, her name up in lights and becoming the next Naoko Takeuchi. She adored her success story; hell, she even met her once at a Comiket in cosplay and tried to pick her brain for tips on making it big before the security asked her to move along in the autograph line. Naoko was a poor girl like her, no friends and nothing really going for her in life until she hit it big with Sailor Moon. Azusa's mom and subsequent dad could never understand the appeal of anime, but Azusa knew better. This was not their generation, it was beyond their grasp. This was the new Japan, where fortunes were gained and legends were made if you were careful.

As the first raindrops began to drip down the shelter she felt her spirits rise sharply as the bus finally by the grace of God turned the corner and began to rumble up to her stop. She leaned over to collect her belongings, a fraying cotton-mesh backpack and her hand-me-down purse from Momma. She stood under the shelter and gently waved to the driver but felt a wave of confusion as she could see soldiers standing shoulder-to-shoulder, crowding the seats and walkway of the bus…

…which merrily passed her up.

"Hey!" she shouted as the driver didn't even glance at her. "Heeeey!"

She cursed, picked up a rock from the gravel walkway and chucked it at the passing bus, donking off the tail-light. "Kuso yarō!" she cursed over the roar of the engine, the gravel dust kicking up in her face. "Bitchi yarō!"

The bus did not yield, leaving her standing alone with her curses.

She slung her backpack off her shoulder and hurled it at the wood bench. She began to stomp on the ground and balled her hands into shaking fists at her side, just like she did when she was a child, tears threatening to flow. The gravel spun up around her as she kicked the ground, her black no-slip shoes getting chalky dirt stains all over them.

What was she gonna do now?

She did a pace across the asphalt road (no cars in sight) and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself down. The bus in theory ran every twenty five minutes, and this one was already ten minutes late. By the time the next one showed up the storm would be here by now, and she'd be soaked. Then catch the bus over to the train terminal, and from there take the train to their rinkydink apartment where her mom would undoubtedly ask where she was and she'd have to–

From the corner of her eye, lying in the grass-mud ditch was a figure she hadn't noticed before on the walk up here. In the growing darkness, it became apparent under the artificial glow of the streetlamp. It appeared to be some sort of dying pig or other equine, face down in the muck. It lulled her out of her anger as she cautiously stepped away from the shelter and approached the figure.

Not a dying horse, but a man. A large one, at that, his backside to Azusa. Faded dark blue jeans, a tasseled white-red striped button up, messy hair, hairy arms and a nice-looking silver watch. Her heart twinged.

"S-sumimasen?" Azusa cautiously spoke. "Anata wa daijōbu?"

The figure said nothing, it's heavy chest rising and falling with labored breath. It farted.

Azusa, at the risk of falling into the ditch with the man, slowly stepped down and poked the man on the back. "Sir, helloooo? Are you…hello?"

She peered her head to try and get a look at the face. Nice jawline, with thick black glasses. With some resistance she was able to turn the man slightly over onto his arm then onto his back. Very handsome, with stubble and thick eyebrows. He looked like a little baby in sleep, his tense features relaxed in slumber. She dug around in his undershirt and unveiled a wallet with an ID card. Gerald Xavier Harding, it read, of the United States Army Corp of Engineers. Wow. She recognized the address as a local one, although shouldn't he be living somewhere on one of the bases? And why on Earth was he here and not in a hospital sobering up? Six foot two height, 253 pounds, blood type O. Several hundred dollars in cash in the wallet, and a few bank and business cards mixed in. She pocketed some of the bills outright, folding them into her bra before stuffing the wallet back into his muddied up shirt.

A drunk yank.

She paused, trying to think of her next move. She glanced up uncertainly as the thunderstorm rumbled, another lightning strike crackling against the sky. The gears in Azusa Tamura's head began to turn. Behind her next to the bus stop was a scratched up payphone, protected by a plastic bubble overhang. Stepping up out of the grass ditch, she walked up to the phone and dug for some change and punched in a number, waiting for the ring. Finally it clicked.

"Hello?", a girl's voice answered.

"Hey, it's me." She glanced back at the figure in the ditch then down at the phone. "I need your help with something. Your car is out of the shop, right?"

Edogawa, Japan

Eighteen Years Later

Kannana-Dori Road, as it was known by, was a straight-length multi-lane asphalt road that more or less ran uninterrupted from south to north through Edogawa proper for some thirty miles, with numerous access roads leading to it and boxy mid-size concrete buildings lining its length. It ran straight through our town and, because of its relative proximity to home and because you could merge onto it from the freeways coming in from Tokyo, I found myself using it a lot to get around town and when I go on driving trips into the metro. At eleven o'clock on a Wednesday night, right after my movie date with Natsuki after the club meet, it was pretty much deserted save for a few taxis and late night commuters like ourselves.

As we pulled up to the red light I allowed myself to stretch. The movie was boring, some schlocky romance thing, but Natsuki insisted on us going because one of her other girlfriends (not from the Literature Club) wanted to double date with us. I had never met the couple but they were alright, and as I surveyed the audience it seemed everyone else was a couple too. We curled up in the seats, me pulling up our divider and our fingers played with each other under the blankets and I tried to pay attention. It was a movie about this teenager who gets a job at a gas station in the middle of nowhere and he's trying to impress some girl at his school because well he has to and…I don't know. I stopped paying attention when Natsuki whispered to meet her in the bathroom around the forty five minute mark, where we made out pretty heavily and just wandered around the arcade until the movie ended. All in all, great film and I'd go see it again.

Natsuki was scrolling away at her phone as I flicked through the radio stations. Because the stars happened to align, she was actually gonna spend the night at my place because my parents were out of town and wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon. The opportunity was ripe, but of course neither of us were thinking about sex. I wasn't in a rush for it and Natsuki wasn't loose, but it was a good time for us to catch up on some anime we wanted to binge together and gorge on the snack pile I had built up just for this sacred occasion. Honestly, I couldn't be asking for a better–

From across the lane a horn honked.

"Oi!"

Natsuki and I glanced up. A cherry red sleek looking car, not a sedan but not a slouch either, was idling next to us, the window rolled down. I clicked on the automatic window and called out, "What?"

"Nice car."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Thanks."

The driver, with blonde tipped hair who looked like another high school student but definitely not from Yamaku, took notice of Natsuki. He propped himself up over the window frame and called out, "Heyyy, sweet thang. What's your name?"

"Natsuki," she said flatly.

"Ooooh, that's pretty." He nodded, his face glowing under his neon LED setup. "What you doing riding with a loser like him? You need a ride home?"

"You wanna come out of the car and speak up, slick?" my voice turning gravely. I held my hand up to my ear. "I j-I'm having, having some trouble hearing you is all."

"Hey, Lover Boy," he said, addressing me now. "Suppose we race that little shitbox of yours, winner takes your girl out on a date? My treat. Whaddya say?"

"I say go suck a railroad spike."

Natsuki folded her arms across her chest and leaned back slightly. At the corner of her lips a small smile tugged, the tip of her fang sticking out. "I don't know. Maybe you're just not fast enough for him, Kazuma." She shrugged. "That's all."

For a moment I was silent. I glanced over at this punk ass nobody, and then back down at Natsuki. Across the intersection I could see the crosswalk slowly counting down; ten, nine, eight…leaning over slightly, I yanked up on the strap of her belt, squeezing it against her lap.

"Tighten your seatbelt," I growled.

I slipped the car in park and dropped my foot against the accelerator. The car roared to life, the engines screaming as the frame of the car rattled and shook. Under the glow of the streetlamp, I could see Natsuki's eyes widen slightly but that sly smile was growing across her face.

"Oooh, Kah-zu-maaah," she purred. "Who would've guessed you had such a–"

The light turned green. I slipped the car back into gear and felt us literally lurch forward against our seats, racing across the asphalt and down the road. The cherry red car followed suit.

My fingers flexed against the wheel. "Hang onto something."

My car revved hard as it began to accelerate; thirty, forty, fifty miles an hour as our cars climbed up the access ramp. My eyes flickered between the windshield and over at my rival, strain showing up on his face under his cheap rainbow lights. As the cars soared over the ramp now the entire town of Edogawa with its twinkling yellow-white lights was visible, serene but smearing against the backdrop of the inky black sky. From out the windows I could hear the punks car rev the same, as he angled and swooped behind me before pulling out in front again.

Natsuki began to look uneasy, clapping her hands together as she gripped the seat. "Easy now."

"Whassat? Not fast enough for ya?"

I popped the car into the next gear and shook my foot against the accelerator, hearing the engines whine and whine again. I turned hard against the wheel, narrowly clipping the back of the other car. I grinned, flashing my teeth as the adrenaline pumped through me like a locomotive. Holy shit, am I actually doing this right now?

Natsuki leaned forward and cranked up the radio, the sound blasting through our open windows as the air flapped against our hair. "Wooooo-hoooooo!", she hollered as she punched the air.

The ramp climbed back down to street level as our cars came neck and neck, but I was still pulling out. The light was turning yellow. Natsuki giggled and pointed, "Faster, faster! Light's turning red!"

I looked up in the rear view and saw the guy had slowed, dropping back about a hundred feet. Forfeiture. I took the moment and revved right through the red, searing past the cars at the crosswalk. I began to hoot and slapped the wheel to the beat. "Hot fucking daaamn, man!"

My high ended just as the police lights flickered on. Natsuki almost broke her neck craning to look behind her, the red-blue sirens flashing against her face. "Aw, fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!" She leaped forward and pressed both her hands against my knee, back down onto the accelerator. "Whatareyoufuckingwaitingon, GOOOOO!"

I didn't stop for directions. Popping back into gear again, my car revved as it turned onto one of the smaller access roads splitting away, the lone cop car in hot pursuit. My fingers slipped with sweat as I barreled through one of the smaller streets leading into Edogawa, coming closer to home. I swerved around a commuter bus narrowly missing it by a couple of feet as I turned to the left down one street, then to the right up another.

Life in the fast lane, I groaned to myself.

The cop car idled somewhat as it tried to maneuver around a minivan. I took this gap in speed and turned hard into a residential street, turning all the lights off. Pulling into an empty driveway for some three story house, I ripped the keys out of ignition and pulled Natsuki out of view, leaning on top of her. I could hear the whoosh of the police car as it revved by not even a few seconds later, in pursuit of the phantom car.

For about a minute, just our hot gasping breaths could be heard. Then we slowly raised ourselves up, pushing away and clutching our chests for air. I looked over at Natsuki, breathed out, "You good?"

Natsuki glowered at me and slapped me somewhat hard against the cheek. I opened my mouth to grimace but she closed the gap with a tight kiss, holding me there against the thick of my shirt. She broke it off.

"If you ever do some shit like that to impress me again, I'll fucking kill you."

…

Author's Note: Them Tamura girls sure are a feisty bunch, eh? Happy Valentines, everyone! Whether you're single or partnered I hope things are going great for you all. I had been debating how to continue this story for a while as I used to think it would be a pretty linear ending but as I've been pingponging story ideas around I realized there's the potential to do a lot more than a simple ending that I had in mind. Would anyone be interested in a revival of the mod? Sound off in the reviews. As always, thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter of Love and Literature!