"…And where the body of the people, or any single man, is deprived of their right, or is under the exercise of a power without right, and have no appeal on earth, then they have a liberty to appeal to heaven, whenever they judge the cause of sufficient moment." -John Locke

"The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." -Thomas Jefferson

…

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"…Live from the Texas newsroom, I'm Charlie González.

Although Japan is over six thousand miles away from the Lone Star State, one tragic story developing there in the last few days has struck a chord among a Dallas family. It was reported in local Japanese news last Friday that a young girl, identified as 18 year old Natsuki Tamura, was arrested on suspicion of killing her father during a family dispute. Today we are getting word on official charges being pressed against the girl; felony homicide, unlawful use of a firearm and disturbing the peace which bring the potential for life in prison notwithstanding the death penalty.

As the initial investigation by Japanese law enforcement sets the stage for a courtroom showdown, detectives in the Edogawa prefecture made contact with police in Dallas as it was soon discovered that the girls father, 53 year old Gerald Tamura, was born in Fort Worth and a retired Army veteran who had resided in Japan since the 2000s. Detectives were able to uncover links to the man's family in the United States and made contact to break them of the tragic news. In an initial radio interview, the sister of the man had this to say:

"We just—we're, we're all in shock, honestly. We're hearing all of th…Xavier hasn't been in the picture for years, aaand to find out now out of the blue he not only got married, he had a kid and now…" (the woman begins to sob, pausing for a moment) "N-noooww…w-we don't know what to do."

The National Police Agency, the leading law enforcement body over Japan, is making the claim that the girl, a high school student with no criminal record, in a deliberately staged plan lured and instigated an attack which led to the death of her father. It was made known that the firearm involved, a Franchi SPAS-12 shotgun, is considered illegal under the 1958 Firearms and Swords Act and supports the charges in addition to disturbing the peace. Criminal code states once a suspect has been formally charged they are to be transferred to the Tokyo Detention House, the largest incarceration facility in the country pending a final judgment.

Texas consistently ranks among the worst of US states for mental health and homeless outreach while having one of the highest rates for child poverty and domestic violence. Advocating harsher punishments for abusers and improving the general welfare are a consistent slogan for those running for office in the Lone Star State, but in Japan the topics are an uncomfortable one from the start. Attempts to bring modern standards of justice to the Japanese penal code have found strong hurdles in getting accepted into law. Over the last few years, opinion surveys have shown an increasing failure of the public's trust in the government handling of these issues. Social media has been calling for a major protest in the wake of what online commenters are dubbing 'the Natsuki Shotgun Incident', although official dates for a public gathering are unconfirmed at this time. We'll have the latest as the story develops.

For United World News, I'm Charlie González in downtown Austin."

…

Two Weeks (and Six Thousand Miles) Ago

I like to think of myself as a morning person.

"Here's your change, ma'am."

But the trouble has always been that staying up part.

It was barely seven in the morning, Sunday. No work and no school for most, so the traffic was almost non-existent save for the few early hour buses and taxi drivers passing through downtown Shinjuku, on the way to the airport or back to their depots. The golden egg yolk glow of the Sun was just barely beginning to show along the rooflines of these meek little skyscrapers that lined the main road, trailing back behind me towards the convention district. Wisps of brown dust blew up along the curbline as a gale of wind rushed down the long black-and-yellow asphalt road, gently teasing up the neat green shrubbery. The automatic doors chimed with cheer as I stepped out of the convenience store, ripping the plastic straw from the strawberry milk box with my teeth trying to stab it through the tinfoil hole. With the gale the temperature flicked like a lightswitch from warm to a minty cool, bringing me to shudder.

And the cold. That was trouble number two.

I looked around the sweeping streets with slight uncertainty, but I didn't feel threatened. There really wasn't anybody else on the sidewalk, and I was the only one in the store. Was downtown always this dead on the weekend, or was it simply because it was too early? Leaning up against the painted brick white wall of the convenience store, I watched a two man pair with bright neon jumpsuits operate a trash truck as it silently hummed down the street, one driving and the other hanging off the back…that seems like a nice job to have. Just load up the trash and go for a ride, ooover and over and over again. But then, there was that getting up early part…

In all of my years I had never been this far away from Edogawa before, the furthest I ever traveled from home was to go to Tokyo proper when I scoured for the baking supplies on our first date. When Kazuma asked me out for the weekend and mentioned this freebie con going on in Shinjuku, for some reason my mental map of the city put it somewhere between the Skytree and the Tokyo Tower…I was a little surprised to find the hotel venue was actually several miles past the city core, an hour and a half trip even by train to get here. At least there would be some extra padding of time tonight before I would inevitably have to go back home…or maybe I could just convince Kazuma to let me spend the night with him at his place. Maybe. He always says his parents are out of town on work stuff.

I took a deep breath and smiled, despite myself. Girl. Puh-leease.

It's not like I can help it. He…that monster waiting at home is the one who forces me to get up this early, forced to do even the most mundane of normal life activities like dying my hair and getting ready for this weekend date with Kazuma at the asscrack of dawn. He is the one who makes me have to dance around and walk on eggshells in my own home, in my own existence, the one that I didn't ask for. Forced to watch the things I didn't want to see, like him strung out on the couch nude or the colors of my flesh morphing from violent to normal over the weeks after a fight. He is the one who makes thinking about things like planning a future with my husband so painful, so awkward, so unlikely to ever happen. What had to have happened inside him to seek pleasure in bringing me grief the way he does? He…he is always the reason. Always the reason…

My teeth grit, yanking the bloody flesh of my inner lip back again.

How badly I want you…gone. This isn't me I just know it but how can I deny the emotions that flow? It would be so much easier if you were just GONE, wiped from the face of the cosmos. How much more am I expected to take. Then it would be just me and Kazuma against the world. How could I do it? How? Many ways, really. I'm always cooking your meals, so who's to say you don't accidentally buy me some spoilt meat or a recalled tin of milk or something? It happens, right? And it's so hard to predict those things, an outbreak of a bacteria on the crops or a sickness in the livestock. People eat bad food all the time, so who's to say if a little bit of rat poison got swirled into his morning coffee brew…well, it wasn't meee, officer. I don't drink coffee. Or maybe sprinkle it into his shampoo. Or force it into his eyes while he sleeps and just keep plunging that big fat knife I keep in the kitchen drawer down to his throat until he stops moving.

Or maybe…or maybe…

No. Not yet. I don't know how. And they're probably too heavy for me to hold anyway.

Placing my bookbag atop the rusted newspaper stand, I look through the zippers and hunt for my lip balm.

All I know is I have to do something soon, because it's increasingly feeling like I'm running out of time, chased by some imaginary timer I cannot see or stop. Something is brewing inside of him, and I don't know what. It started a few weeks ago when he just…up and left. For a few days he truly teased me with the idea of freedom; maybe he finally got sick of it all and ditched me for good, back to Texas…it was exhilarating until I realized how bad of a spot that puts me in. Technically at the first mention of abandonment some kind of child services would be required to get involved, and one way or another it would lead to me being taken away. Mom's not here to save me, and then what? They take me away from Yamaku? Away from Kazuma? Absolutely not. I can't take that risk. The pantries had enough to last.

So I waited. And waited. Went to school, to the Literature Club. Maybe he really was gone.

But eventually he returned. And he wen̴t̸ ̶b̵a̵c̶k̵ ̶t̵o̸̞͌ ̶̯͙͌ͅh̵̛͙̪̀͌͜i̷̜̬͂͜s̶̫̓̄͝ ̴͍̪̲̈́͝o̶͔͋l̵̤̟̃͋̅ͅd̷̙̳͈̆̓̏ ̴̯̹̕w̴͉̞͗͘͝ḁ̸̢͓͌͆͆yš̶̼̌̇.̷̧͚̦̄.

There's peace, and then there's quiet. The two cannot be mistaken. When he came back, he seemed…avoidant of me. I don't know, but something about his behavior just didn't fit the lifelong mold of him. He still buys the food, he still gets loud, but we haven't had a real altercation for a couple of days now. My bruises have begun to heal, slightly, still hurts a little raw to sit down properly though. The most violent he's been getting is contained to his room, doing…what? I don't know. Things get tossed around and he screams like a banshee, then quiets down. One time I heard sobs. Is that an improvement? I don't know, but what I do know is that I cannot prepare for what I cannot see. I started the work yesterday of seriously finding cheap bus tickets and even cheaper rooms to rent out, far the hell away from Edogawa or maybe just leg it in the woods and ride it out to see if I can finally escape. Would Kazuma go with me? I really doubt it, but at least he would understand if I had to lay low for a few…erm, months.

But I can't ask him for help. It's not his burden to bear.

As I ponder at one of the skyscrapers, a thick coffee brown with tinted windows, my jaw starts to gnash around with not anger, but guilt. The guilt always returns to lecture my best thoughts like some sort of satanic condescending parrot. But it's wrooong to kill, Natsuuuki! That doesn't make you any better than hiiim! Really? I've been better than him since the day I was born. Well, what then? The devil doesn't believe in reason. How do you negotiate with a tiger when your head is in it's–

My phone started to ring. It was Kazuma.

I felt my heart try to leap out from under my chest, staring at the caller ID pic I picked of him from our last convention together, Kazuma with his head hung low like some sort of heavyweight fighter on his hands and knees fighting for his life atop the karaoke stage during one of the late night battle panels, the screen vibrating as I tried to work myself down a bit from the previous homicidal thoughts before I answer. Kazuma cannot know about any of this. It's not his burden to bear.

I answered the call.

Only mine.

"Hell-ooooh?", I harmonize into the speaker with a smile.

Kazuma's voice is gravelly but firm. "Good moor-ning, sweetheart. Uh, did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No no! You didn't wake me at all, I was juuust…", I dug into my bag again for my eyedrops, pushing away at my tangled-up-in-the-charger-cord switchblade and travel mouthwash. "I was just getting up, actually. You?"

I press the phone to my ear as I start to head down the sidewalk, searching for the hotel venue. The towers in the distance began to grow bigger, the streetlamps beginning to click off as the day grew lighter with the morning sun. It seemed the lobbies of the hotels were growing more active, people exiting with their suitcases in tow. Hailing cabs, on the way back home or across the ocean. Will I ever meet them? Probably not. They don't even know I exist, why would they wanna see me?

Kazuma yawns, and I hear the sound of a door opening, a faucet turning on. "The same. I just wanted to hear your voice first thing in the morning, that's all."

It's gonna take more than that to get me all lovey dovey this early. "Mhmmm…"

"How did you sleep?"

How did I sleep? He was downstairs in the living room, like usual, so I stayed put upstairs. How blessed I was to have a private bathroom, so there really isn't much need to leave my room unless for some other reason. The toilet and shower work, I have all my food and drink upstairs…I can be up there for days at a time assuming no school. I took a nap and then woke up around midnight or one in the morning to clean my hair, then the quick-dying that stunk the whole room up like paint thinner but after a few hours of repeated coaxing and nurturing, plus the extensions...I was satisfied. I had never gone so full thick motor oil black before, a drop down from my natural espresso brunette, but as I gazed in the mirror I slowly…kinda fell in love with it. Like what was I doing my whole life with pink? It took some styling and constant reference to the Web to get it just right, but I was quite happy with the way it parted right down the middle poofing up and across into two huge bangs across my face, parting to let my features shine. It took a little extra time thrifting to find the appropriate long navy skirt and uniform, but that and some carefully wrapped gauze on the fingers and arms…I was now a textbook delinquent, the baddest sukeban on this side of Japan.

I felt new again, rebellious, however brief. Then another shower to clean up and to finally get dressed and out the door by around…five thirty am. Yeah. Maybe a few hours of sleep all things considered.

"Beautifully. What about you, my love?"

I hear the faucet turn off and a door open again through the tinny speaker. "Blech. I ju–well, I had a headache last night so I went to bed early. I feel…", he yawns, "a little better now."

I take a swig of the blue mouthwash and swish it around, wincing as it washed through my gums. Not good enough. "Mmm, oh yeah, maybe." I spit into a receptacle and keep it moving, hunting for the hotel now. It had to be close by…and maybe I could find a place for a nap.

"Well, when you come see me I'll give you a kiss on the head. Will that make it better?"

There's a pause.

"Maybe."

"Oh, you knowww it'll work."

Kazuma aggs on, "You know, the-the science hasn't really come back on the whole 'kiss-to-feel-better' concept. It, uh, it might take a few test trials to be sure."

Getting warmer. "Well I'm a very patient doctor, Mister Odaka. I take care of all my patients."

"You have other patients?"

Ice cooold! My voice flatlines. "Sir, I'm not at liberty to disclose my other patient's medical histor–", I shake my head. "No, you geek. You're my one and only stupid idiot patient."

He starts to laugh and I feel my spirits rise a little bit higher. 'O-kayy, okay. Yes. Yes. I believe you."

"Dummy."

"You're the dummy."

I huff. "Nope. Don't even start–"

He continues, "Natsuki Tamura is the biggest dummy in the history of all dummies. They had to invent a new way of cataloguing dummies when she was born."

The light changes and I start to cross the criss-crossing crosswalk. "Watch it, Kazoo. I'm warning you."

"In ancient Edo, the children sang songs about the infamous lore of Natsuki Tamura, queen of all–"

Defiantly I interrupt, "If I'm the dummy, then you're the dumbass."

And hang up on him.

In a few minutes the sidewalk turns and presents my home for the evening, Keio Plaza Hotel. Two enormous white marble towers, with tiny checkerboard windows and flat roofs standing at an offset where one tower lurched in front of the tower but didn't hog the spotlight from its twin. The space was all remarkably clean to sterility, a small modern plaza with white-red roses intermingled with the neatly trimmed green shrubbery that lined the roads in front of it. A tiny water fountain with a gold spherical statue gurgled around a meek circle of metal benches just before passing the valet line and entering the lobby. You'd be forgiven for thinking there wasn't an anime convention going, since I saw a lot more freshly-pressed navy suits and black business skirts walking around then rainbow wigs and sparkling cosplays.

Across the street, my head slowly tilted up to stare at the buildings, and it was then for the first time today that I felt uneasy, a forced blurry sickness rippling across my eyes. The flecks of white clouds passed behind the blue backdrop of the towers as they seemed to shake in their spots…or was it me shaking? At least today all of the events should be towards the ground floor. The other towers I passed weren't very tall as I strolled down the street, indifferent to their existence…but these were easily a couple hundred feet high. I don't know what it is about skyscrapers, but…they scare me. I don't know. It-it isn't natural for humans to be hanging out up in the sky so carelessly like that, with only the steel they stand on to protect them. And a lot of buildings sway because they're so tall, otherwise they'd tip right over! The only time you should be that high off the ground is when you're on a plane, not for eight hours a day five days a week. Man belongs on the ground where he can remind himself that he's mortal. I couldn't see the appeal in architecture much.

But Kazuma likes it. For whatever geeky reason.

I peered into the lobby of the Keio Hotel which, to my relief, wasn't as claustrophobic as it seemed from the outside. The ceiling as you entered tapered into a massive cavernous space, well lit with twinkling chandeliers that spiraled and lowered towards the center of the lobby. The wide circular front desks dominated the center of the lobby, thick black varnished desks with glass block walls to give 'privacy' for the staff. Plush velveteen couches and lounge chairs in natural earthy colors decorated the space, as it led towards the elevator banks and various hallways walking towards the breakfast bars, the alcoholic bars, to the ballrooms and bathrooms and other amenities of the hotel.

A huge red-and-white printed banner hung across the outside lobby doors, matched with the sketch of a cheerful winking maneki-neko kitty cat gesturing to the text that read "WELCOME TO SAKURA-CON 2018!"

Under the canopy I looked behind me and saw an even larger set of twin towers looming behind some kind of shopping mall, twice as tall as the ones before me as they poked the morning sky with their needlepoint spires. All around me these fifty or sixty story goliaths towered in their positions, some ugly and most hideous with their concrete construction. In this part of downtown they weren't all clustered and piled atop each other like people trying to get on the last train car home but they were set apart where there was enough space in the air to…appreciate them, I guess…but these were monsters, my God! What was the reason for building such an eyesore? To work in? If some company made me have to work in a skyscraper like that, ride those cattle car elevators up to the top and feel my guts swing around with the wind I'd probably j—

Kazuma was calling back, perhaps a minute later than I'd like him too.

I press the phone to my ear, the Hello Kitty keychain dangling. "Yeeees…?"

He sounds embarrassed as he coos, "Hey, sooooo, I just got off the phone with my Mom…aaand she said I am, in fact, a dumbass."

…

Hours had passed, and it was now approaching midday. How bittersweet.

The convention was…so-so. I had read it was in its tenth or twelfth year of operation but it seemed like whatever gold standard it used to operate on was slipping. The staff were very polite but seemed a little clueless when it came to where panels were going on and schedule stuff (of which, there was actually a lot of panels to keep track of going on in the many little meeting rooms of the hotel). The signage to get around was okay, but the app was a little slow to boot. I end up making the same repeated mistake at these cons of going over budget and not thinking about the real necessities, like, food…but then Kazuma got me a little piano toy for my lanyard and forgot all about that part. Around noon we did the first lap of the venue to see where everything was and ended up retreating to the underground concourse of the hotel, where there were different food booths and trinket stores separate from the convention. The dealers' hall was meh but Kazuma and I had made out like real bandits in the artist alley, although I had to ask of him to keep a couple of the things at his place. What Dad will never see can't hurt me. To his credit Kazuma didn't mind, he didn't even really press on the why. He just…said okay and did it.

He's always sweet like that…thinking of what my needs are. Taking care.

As we stepped away from the dealers hall and entered the main lobby again, I took a moment to really look at him. So tall, with a clean face and his black hair swept so neatly back into a firm pompadour, like he was ripped right out of the stills of Be-Bop High School. The right hand tucked into his pocket with the left open to shake hands, caress my face, hold my throat tight…um, his constant bemused smirk with the raised thick eyebrows…th-the perfect starch-ironed crisp gakuran with its gold buttons and popped collar snaking right down to the shiny greased dress shoes and his thick–ghhh~nope!

He isn't THAT cute.

But even as I said the words, a lost young photographer with a tight blue bandana, yesterday's glasses and tomorrow's acne stopped us in our tracks, choking out the nervous words all at once as he struggled with his oversized Kodak, "Sir! May I ask who you are supposed to be!"

Kazuma gives me a sarcastic side-eye 'you seeing this?' look, then back to the man. "I'm uh…", he shrugs, "whoever you want me to be." And laughs.

"Muh-may I be so-so honored to take your photogih-graph for my buh-log?"

Kazuma seems at ease. "Well, of cooourse!", he beckoned to the open air as he spun on his heels in a single snap, his shoes clacking against the ground as he struck a pose for the flash.

"We're not wearing this for no reason, right?" With a grin he pointed out a finger gun, and then made a slashing motion to his chest, outing him to the public as the world's biggest closeted chuunibyou. I wonder how many times he practiced that in the–

Commotion. "Oh! Oh wait sir! Please!", an older lady photographer with the event had taken notice and started to wind up her camera. "Can I get a photo as well?"

Kazuma seemed a little surprised but took it in stride. "Sure!" He looks at me and makes a shrugging sheepish gesture to the now growing gaggle of paparazzi, pulsing through the rushing crowds of the Sakura-Con convention. "Uh, Nats, sorry–just give me a–"

What a dummy…but he's my dummy. I wink and begin to look for a place to sit. "Take your time…Mister Ce-le-bri-ty."

He just rolls his eyes, blows me a kiss and turns his focus back to his audience.

I slip an earbud in and put on one of my favorite playlists, the Vera Lynn Collection, and close my eyes. My fingers dig and massage the purple velveteen of the couch, writing mine and his names into the teased-up fabric. This could be paradise…if I bring it to fruition. Me and Kazuma living our lives out in peace, going to concerts and conventions every other weekend…Yuri and Sayori and Monika all there with us for the big adventure. I could be a homemaker or go to work, whatever he wants. I'm sure he'll get some big money degree or hell he could be the damn janitor of this place, I don't care. Let's get one of those shitty apartments by the tracks and let the rumble of the lines passing over us put us to sleep…or maybe move way out there in the countryside like Southern Osaka or the little villages out in Hiroshima…somewhere quiet, away from all these damn buildings with their smog and spew. Living the good Lord somewhere intended us to be, working off the land and respecting the environment as she always respects us. Maybe we'll be farmers instead of mangakas or architects…a couple of goats. A cow…two cows…three.

…no Father.

My eyes begin to droop, the roars of the passing otaku crowd like a soft rockaway lullaby…

"Natsuki?"

Snap back to reality. Kazuma takes a spot next to me on the couch.

"Wanna call it a night?"

Absolutely fucking not.

I spring to life from the couch, decompressing off the fresh-smelling cushions. I take a deep sniff of the air and widen my eyes a little. Something good is sizzling, somewhere. Canola oil? Some kind of crunchy, earthy vegetable?

"What is that?" I grab Kazuma by the hand and wave the air a little for effect. "You smell it?"

"I'm not falling for that one again."

"Nooo, stupid. Th–food!" I sit up and grab our plastic and woven shopping bags, looking up at the balconies. "Maybe someone brought it in?"

Kazuma scans the horizon and sees that one of the emergency exit doors leading outside to the main plaza is propped open, with some kind of black-orange food truck parked outside. He points outside, at the skyscrapers outside dominating through the skylights of the hotel lobby. "I think it's…coming from outside."

My fingers tug at his cuffs and begrudgingly pull him to his feet. "A-riiiise, Kazuma. Let's go find iiiit."

He rubs his eyes, licking his chops the one time. "What time is it?"

My spirits dampen as I look at my watch. "Almost eight." The deep burning orange sunsets were beginning to shift into the nightfall, black with midnight brushes. He takes a long stretch out as he pops his back, twisting at the torso and letting out a slow constricted yawn. "Maybe I can get a soda and wake me up a little more."

Yes. Let's do that. How much soda can you drink? "Sounds like a plan."

We dust off, embrace and then start to exit the Keio Plaza Hotel. Outside along the curbline an organized row of food trucks, intermingled with boba tea vendors and other beverages kept the now-departing crowds from Sakura-Con spending money. Clever. I figured out what the smell was coming from, a bustling korokke truck with a line stretching long past the vehicle. The patio tables were mostly full to the brim, a lot of large groups of cosplayers from at least the fandoms I could spot like Ouran Club, Code Geass and Undertale but it was difficult to name all of them. As soon as one group got up, it seemed another was right away to replace them. Hiding under the canopy of the hotel next to the valets, people were climbing into cabs and private cars and speeding away. It was a new week tomorrow; people back to school, to work, to the mundaneness of life absent a convention. We decided to skip all of that and just continue on walking.

The Twin Towers dominate my view as we trek down the crosswalk towards them. Christ…I hope he doesn't wanna go up there. It should be closed by now, I think. Spare me the vomiting tonight and we'll pick it up tomorrow.

Kazuma points up at the skyscrapers with a grin. "That's Kizuna Governance Plaza, the tallest of the tallest in the country."

I nod, taking a deep breath. "Uh huh."

"Aren't they neat?" His finger wiggles between the rooftops of the two towers with their alternating red warning lights. "Each building has an observation deck on top, and they're free."

"Ooooh…"

He looks down at me. "Wanna go up?"

And jump? Sure. "I, uhh…", I lean forward and give him a peck on the cheek. "Let's keep our feet on the ground tonight, mmkay hun?" It looks like he wants to protest but my kiss was like quicksand, pulling him back to my grip. "Ahh…well, another time then. Maybe when we're on summer break."

I nod, lightening up at the idea. We're only a month or so off from it…and then what? He's gonna want me out of the house, I'm sure. He threatened it and now that were eighteen he has the legal grounds however fucked up to see to it. Maybe…oh God, I can't ask to stay with Kazuma can I? Are we at that kind of stage in a relationship to do that? I–I mean, he…he loves me. I know he loves me, and I love him so so much…but that's a lot to ask of him. And ultimately it comes down to his parents, who I still haven't met yet. I want to though. They seem like such sweet caring people, based on all the stories and photos he's told me. I mean, you'd have to be knit from that kind of thread to create someone like Kazuma Odaka.

We cross to the other side and stand at the front rotunda entrance of Kizuna Governance Plaza, several golden glass revolving doors leading to the shopping strip that wrapped around the plaza and fronted the Twin Towers. Kazuma muscled through the door and took me by the waist as we spun around twice, three, four before tumbling out and into the deserted shopping center. Given it was late night on a Sunday and the complex was primarily offices, the services and booths were mostly closed. Green potato vines hung from the concrete balconies of the narrow U-shaped shopping mall, gently blowing with the air conditioning.

The Twin Towers still loomed outside, dominating the skylight. Kazuma lifted his chin up to look at them with a smile, then looked back at me. "Hopefully it's quieter over here than back there." He paused, frowning as he looked around the empty mall. "Maybe there's a soda machine somewhere, too."

I just smiled as he took my hand, leading me to the plaza. "Whatever you say, dear."

But in my pocket, my heart pops and sinks into my chest as the phone rings. Only one person would be calling me this late, and as my sweaty fingers fished for the device the caller ID rang true.

IGNORE IT?

YES. NO.

Kazuma grins again as we push out into the hot open air of Kizuna Governance Plaza, the sunset mostly faded and the sky away with twinkling white stars against the almighty Twin Towers, the offices of the many floors providing their own light show as the cubicles and suites flickered on and off, people leaving and starting their shifts. At the center of the plaza the rays of water streamed and danced as they shot up in the air, the electric rainbow lighting underneath the fountains lighting up the center stage. The plaza was almost deserted, save for the custodians and straggling tourists and office workers solo or in a pair. A gentle piano melody flowed from the boombox speakers atop the poles.

IGNORE IT?

YES. NO.

"Uwaaaaooooh!...they–woooow…!" Kazuma's jaw drops as he sticks his arms out, spinning on his heels as he stares straight up at the Twin Towers. He laughs as he spins so hard he falls flat on his butt, dizzy with glee. He scurries to his feet as he tries to balance himself, leaning against one of the banner light poles. He starts to stagger towards the water fountains and beckons me to follow. "Nats, come aaawnn!"

Why do I have to put up with this? What did I ever do exactly aside from being his seed?

I watch Kazuma for a moment as he fumbles with his wallet and sticks bills into the soda machine, punching up two Ramune bottles for us. When he grabs the drinks he holds them carefully in his fingers and waves me back, looking for a spot at one of the benches fronting those almighty terrifying towers. I refuse to stand on the sidelines anymore. If our love is a tragedy, why is Kazuma the remedy? I look at him and just get lost in paradise. When am I gonna stand up and do something for once?

IGNORE IT?

YES. NO.

YES. NO.

I shove my phone into my pocket and race to meet my husband.

And smile.

Because I feel a lot better about what I have to do now.

…

(...a phone rings…)

(...it rings a second ti–)

"Yeah."

"Hun, it's me. Have you seen the news?"

"Ahhh…no. I'm just getting to the cafeteria now. Where are you?"

"I'm in the East Wing, I'll be a few minutes late. Maizono wants me to run another diagnostic on the consoles."

"What was on the news?"

"They announced charges against her. She's being moved downtown."

"...oh, fuck."

"I know."

"Alright. Well, you know what that means. We'll go see her tomorrow."

"Ren…"

"I know, dear. I know. But this isn't about us anymore."

"I just don't think–"

"Did you hear what I said? We're doing this for Kazuma, not for us. This is what he wants…so this is what he will get. It's the least we can do."

"...you're right. Yes, I–"

"I don't mean to yell, Miki–"

"Please don't–"

"I ju–"

"We'll talk at lunch, sweetheart. It's okay. I understand."

"...I love you dear."

"I love you more."

(the call clicks…)

…

Author's Note: She was only seventeen.

Born in the Saitama Prefecture, she was beloved by her classmates and admired by so many. The average student one could expect, the middle child of an older and younger brother to a modest family. Was she a role model academic? Not quite, like any student she missed class and sometimes her grades slipped. She was only human, after all. She had a boyfriend, she had an affection for baking and knitting, and she worked part time at a cruddy plastics factory to save up for a summer trip with her sights set on her future career. A girl with big dreams to sing for the world and make her name famous worldwide.

She was only seventeen.

Could it have been anyone? Predators are more often known to the victim than not, but these men were total strangers. As she biked home from her job to turn in for the night, the predators locked their focus onto her. The demented fake plot emerges of one boy attacking her on bike as she returned home, then a decoy to lure her away under the guise of a safety escort. With a simple smile and her mighty heart, she dutifully accepted the offer for help as any person likely would.

Her name was Junko Furuta, Jun-chan.

And on this day, thirty six years ago, they took her.

I'm so so sorry, Miss Furuta. The pain you were dealt is beyond my grasp…but your suffering is over and I beg that your soul is at peace now. The world has changed so radically so quickly and it feels like we're all running to catch up, but you should've been here to see it. Next year you'll be fifty four, wow! You deserved that gift of life. You deserved that new job you hadn't even started. To walk the stage with your friends and ascend to higher learning. To live out your dreams to your greatest visions as an idol singer, twirling and performing for the world just as the idols you looked up to did. The right as a human to look for the right person perhaps, start a family, rise to the glow of the sun and slumber to the cool of the night. Instead…instead…

It's not fair. It never is. Yet it happens.

Thirty six years later her death cannot be forgotten. I cannot allow it.

And so, on the thirty sixth anniversary of her disappearance, I dedicate Love and Literature not only to Junko Furuta and her eternal memory as but one painful story over infinity about a sweet innocent young girl snuffed out before her life truly began, but to all victims of domestic violence. The only reason I'm still writing this story is for them, in the hopes one day Love and Literature can be a rallying cry and a point of awareness to this venom that I don't think we will ever vaccinate from the human spirit. To all of the Nicole Browns and the Shannan Watts' and Caylee Anthony's and so tragically to all of the Junko Furuta's which have yet to be born even now as I type…I don't think the words that describe my sorrow and rage exist in any spoken language. You will always be seen even in the thumps of the night and depths of the darkness.

Miss Furuta, if you can hear me…I beg and plead that your soul is at rest. You fought so hard and so valiantly, didn't you? You had so many favorite idols, right? Kyoko Koizumi and Yui Ogura and Miyano Kumiko, wasn't it? You…begged for your release at one point, promising you'd never speak a word of any of your horrible vicious torment, and they asked what your favorite artist was. You replied honestly, and they played one of your most beloved songs. They stripped you nude and forced you to dance to completion, beating and violating you with the promise of your freedom for one last act of degradation…and slammed the doors shut once more. Beyond the degeneracy and the satanic mind of the action it's…the humiliation. To hear the sweet tunes of something you cherish so dearly turned against you, your ears used as a barbed weapon against your heart. As the world continued to spin and the people passed by your prison cell ignorant to it all, and those rotten police officers who chose not to pursue your cries and disappearance you still tried to hold onto hope that help was on the way. You were so fucking BRAVE, Miss Furuta. They could never take that from you.

And yet we still failed.

It is our shared obligation, if not my personal own, to look after the vulnerable. I like to think we live in a world where we see injustice we do not shrug and wonder why it has to happen, but to take the mantle and ask why we are not stopping it. In the hopes that we can prevent future tragedies like this from ever happening to anyone again, to strip a sweet girl of her most basic feelings and humanities into the most condemned and violated person on the planet. That these sickos, these alien psychopaths who were so rabid in their violence she was rendered unrecognizable. The next few years terrify me not for their inevitability but their uncertainty, that even our most basic concepts and institutions, free public libraries and public parks and the lack of basic respect for our fellow neighbor. If these concepts of the ideology are under scrutiny, what about the concepts we hold about the living? That our mothers are not our slaves and our daughters are not our personal property? That man has no right to dictate a woman's life, to control and abuse her? That all are created equal with certain unalienable rights given to us at our creation?

When it comes to Love and Literature, I don't think the rage of youth has been unlocked just yet in the story. In particular I've been inspired by the 1960s Tokyo university protests which seized and shut down numerous campuses due to mass student unrest. Kazuma is in recovery, being taken to meet Monika at her house with the rest of the Literature Club and to plot out the next step to free Natsuki. Hisao and Emi are symbols of what Kazuma and Natsuki could become, if all goes well, and will still play a role in the story as it continues to intensify and come to a boil like how the story built up to Chapter 27. In the wake of the Natsuki Shotgun Incident, almost all of the heads of the Yamaku clubs have been reaching out to Monika in search of Kazuma, wanting to offer their resources in any way they can to free her…perhaps a new club must be formed…with Kazuma at the front.

And now, Kazuma's parents are getting ready to meet Natsuki…what else could be next?

Beyond being a decent story about a Japanese literature club, I hope that Love and Literature inspires you to seek inner reflection in your own lives and consider how you can help your own communities and friends, and just overall be a better person. Appreciate the gift of life as much and as earnestly as you can, because tomorrow is not guaranteed. I want to take the time to make this a realistic, down-to-Earth but above all enjoyable and authentic Doki Doki story, but that often takes more time than I had considered in the past. That being said…there is a good ending coming. It will all work out in the end for Kazuma Odaka and Natsuki Tamura.

But what will it take just to find that special day?

Stay tuned. Thank you all so much for reading. Until next time.