Story Title: Full Moon Fever
Series Title: House of the Holy
By Horosha
Disclaimer: “Sailor Moon” is the property of Naoko Takeuchi, Kodansha Ltd. and Toei Animation Ltd. As such, I’m getting no compensation for writing this fiction other than my own enjoyment and to bring pleasure to the fans of this wonderful series.
Disclaimer: “Sailor Moon V: The Dark Adventures of the Sailor Scouts” is the property of Troy “Silver” Stanton. This is here because several of the concepts I’m going to use in this series originated with Troy and his wonderful series. “Sailor Moon V: The Dark Adventures of the Sailor Scouts” can be found at:
http://silormoonv.net
My e-mail addresses are:
http://V_Bashaw@hotmail.com
http://Horosha@mangablast.com
This is the second installment to this Sailor Moon series. At first this story will appear to be totally separate from the first installment but they are connected. Many will notice that I’m paying homage to the great detective novels of Dashell Hammett, Eric Stanley Gardner and Raymond Chandler. If you don’t recognize any of these authors, then maybe you will know their creations, Sam Spade, Perry Mason and Philip Marlowe.
WARNING: This story contains adult language and adult scenes, so minors should get parental permission before reading this series.
Copyright: September 19, 2004
Proofreader: Lanis
Timeline: This installment takes place fifteen days after the first installment of “House of the Holy: Temptation and Seduction.”
Shinjuku-ku, Tokyo, Nihon
“Typhoon Ursula will be making landfall in the Kanto region approximately early next morning, twenty-four hours from now. All citizens are advice to prepare their homes for winds greater than 170 mph and rainfall close to 30 inches. The Jieitai has been mobilized and all non-essential personal are advice either to evacuate the area, go to emergency shelters or stay at home. Please make contact with your local emergency coordinator so you will know where your local emergency shelter is located.”
“Shit, I died again.”
My shoulders sag while my hands dropped to the top of my desk, the Playstation controller in my hands, my baby blues staring at the 16-inch screen that showed my Sailor V aviator dramatic dying scene, once more defeated by eighteen level boss monster, Sailor Galaxia. With the break in the action I check the continuous emergency message coming from my radio, but nothing new came out, just the same-o-same-o, the typhoon would hit sometime tomorrow morning and turn Tokyo, Kawasaki and Yokohama in the world’s biggest concrete swimming pool, decorated with uprooted trees and tinplated surfboards. It was amusing when one religious fanatic suggested that the Saishu of the Grand Shrine at Ise should go to Miyake-jima and use her divine Shinto powers to turn the storm away from Nihon. Then it got ridiculous when someone suggested that the Nihonjin government should hire Sailor Moon to dust the windbag.
“Sailor Moon,” a frown appeared on my face, “why is it that whenever something horrific is about to happen to this town, people turn to Sailor Moon to once more be our savior, like we don’t have a backbone anymore to save ourselves.”
Don’t get me wrong, I have great respect for Sailor Moon, her victories over Queen Beryl, the Deathbusters, the Death Circus and the Sailor Wars, are things to be honored, but to lose confidence in your own abilities and pin your hopes on one individual and her bodyguard, whoever she and they are, just seemed weak willed to me. It doesn’t help that I have never seen them in action or been in the position to witness the destruction brought by their opponents, so maybe there is still a little bit of a Doubting Thomas in me, a voice inside of me, telling me that Sailor Moon is actually a special governmental paramilitary taskforce, who used the cute image of magical girl genre to fund its budget. The money from the manga, the anime and the videogames had to go somewhere.
“Well, while Sailor Moon might be everyone’s poster child,” a lopsided smile on my lips as I stared at the lifeless pixel image of Sailor V, “you’re going to remain my number one superheroine.”
A buzz came from the intercom interrupted my further comparison of Sailor Moon and Sailor V, so I put down the controller and press the intercom’s on button, “Yes, Yajue-chan?”
“Boss, we’ve got a live one, her name is Aiko-san.”
The only time Yajue would call me boss was when she was trying to impress a client with our professionalism, I could also tell from her voice that she was wearing her ear mike setup, so I said, “Tell them it’s cheaper for them to let the typhoon to take care of their problem.”
“C’mon, Boss, her getup is worth an interview,” Yajue’s tone heavy with hidden meaning.
I groaned, thinking, ‘Great, its one of the dancers from the strip joint.’ It was a nice arrangement, having the top floor without rent for my company in return for doing some bouncer work for the owner of the private club on the first floor; the only problem with it is the dancers coming to me with their problems. Cheating boyfriends, obsessive customers, abusive pimps, background checks on husband material, you know the normal stuff. Then there are those who get starry-eyed about me and come up here to see if I’m looking for a new piece of ass.
Of course there is Yajue’s recommendation to take into account, my right hand man or should I say my right hand woman. It was Yajue and her all girl biker gang I saw terrorizing a thirteen-year-old blonde, the poor kid’s eyes as big and as blue as twin lakes because of the fabric scissors they held. It was Yajue that plunged one of those scissors into my stomach when I tried to interfere, it was Yajue and her gang I dumped into a garbage bin after I knocked them senseless, and it was Yajue and her gang that came to me the next morning. The bleached blonde saying since I was tough enough to spank their combined bottoms while wounded, I was tough enough to be their new leader. Me, a gaijin who left the only profession I ever knew, a stranger in a strange land, unable to speak the lingo, I was now responsible for ten young women, some no more than teenagers.
“You know the wind is already making the wires play a dirge,” I have depended on Yajue’s smarts for the past two-and-a-half years, no sense of stopping now.
“If we spread out the leg work, we get it done before Mama Bear arrives,” Yajue’s cool tone might sound true to the client but I heard the grin behind it.
“Okay, Yajue-chan, send Aiko-san in,” I said and then I prepared myself for whatever tactless snow job I was about to get, with a name like Aiko, love child, I expected the worse.
Boy, was I wrong.
She walked right into my life.
I always wanted to use that line, of course me thinking it probably clearly showed how kinky I could get, but I couldn’t help it, there she was all dressed up like Lauren Bacall, full-length tan leather jacket, black leather gloves, a fedora pulled so far down that its wide brim almost touched her nose, and a pair of big sunglasses that effectively hid her eye color from me. She was so calm walking into my private office; she even had the Lauren Bacall walk down pat, if nothing else she was a seasoned professional, someone used to putting on an act in front of strangers.
‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘If she’s going to play Bacall, why don’t I play Bogart.’
In most walks of life including my former and new professions, I find most people go with their first impressions, so I could very well imagine Aiko eyes going wide behind those smoky glasses when my six foot plus frame stood up, me dressed in a reddish-brown business suit, bowing before saying, “Good morning, I’m Rogers Thisbe, top investigator of the Titan Detective Agency.”
Her composure didn’t crack; she returned my bow and responded in a sultry voice, “Good morning. As your secretary told you, I’m Aiko-san.”
No last name, most likely not even her real first name and she doing everything possible for conceal her looks, although I could tell she was below five feet and the coat’s tight strap showed she had an hourglass figure, so with this running through my mind I came around the desk and gestured for her to sit in one of the plain wooden chairs in front of my desk. My office is a bare thread affair, a couch against the right wall, a wall bookcase against the left wall, the wall behind the desk decorated with my business license, plus pictures and mementos of my former profession, mostly there to impress the clients.
There was hint of a knowing smile on her rosy lips and she sat in the offered chair and I leaned against the corner of my desk while asking, “How may I be of service to you, Aiko-san?”
“I presume you left the intercom on for a reason?” no menace in Aiko’s voice, just a hint of curiosity.
Another notch up on my estimation, hawk eyes even with those shades on, so I responded, “Mifune-san is our number two in our company,” using Yajue’s surname and her official rank as our sub-leader, “so she is more than a secretary.”
There, a fleeting frown on her lips before she brought back her little smile, something about the situation bothered her but she wasn’t ready to back out, instead her sensual voice said, “I’m here seeking help for a friend of a friend.”
I asked my first important question, “Your friend’s friend couldn’t or wouldn’t come on her own?” Getting dragged in by nosy friends is a good way to end up in no-man’s-land.
“Couldn’t,” a drop of ice water in Aiko’s voice, “she is in the hospital.”
That got my interest. I have a soft spot when it comes to women, children and cats, just ask Yajue or the dancers downstairs, they all would say, “Thisbe-san, that tall drink might be scary on the outside but there’s a marshmallow inside.”
I asked my second question, “What happened?”
“My friend’s friend has a boyfriend,” Aiko crossed her legs, revealing the crimson high heels she was wearing, “he has the brains to take them both far but he is curious about everyone and everything, so when she and her boyfriend were out last night in Shibuya, a guy approached and offered them a new designer drug, my friend’s friend turned it down but her boyfriend didn’t.”
This wasn’t new to me, working on Tokyo’s streets for almost three years you see it happen like clockwork. A new designer drug hits the streets, a few of the pushers end up with a bad batch and some of the takers end up dead or in a bed with tubes sticking out of their mouths.
Aiko must have notice the wheels turning in my head because she shook her head while saying, “You’re thinking it was a bad batch and it could have been, since I wasn’t there to see what happened, but my friend was. The drug triggered something because her friend’s boyfriend became some kind of monster,” the woman paused to let her first words to sink in before she finished, “a monster who killed the pusher and attacked his girlfriend . . .”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence, it wasn’t necessary, date rape occurred too often in Nihon but this was a new twist, it also set off alarm bells in my head, “This is a open case, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Aiko moistened her lips, “the police are investigating but with the typhoon and its aftermath, it’s very likely it will end up a cold case.”
Police terminology, her use of it meant several things to me and all of them could mean nothing, yet it was something to remember, “But the boyfriend is still on the loose.”
“The police haven’t been able to find him, even with Tokyo half-deserted,” Aiko gaze never moving from my face, “it’s as if he just disappeared.”
Disappearances, once more something that wasn’t uncommon in Tokyo but finding missing people put yen in my pocket. Of course you might be wondering why I haven’t voiced any doubts about the boyfriend turning into a monster. Well, after having what has happened in the last two-and-a-half years, reports of people turning into monsters are very easy to believe, thus I asked, “You want me to find the boyfriend?”
“No, someone else is doing it for me,” Aiko reached underneath her jacket and pulled out a bulging white envelope, “What I’m hiring your agency to do is to find the lab that made the drug and give that information to us.”
Us, Aiko hadn’t said me, she had said us, plural, more than one, again it was something for me to store away and think about later, “To hire our company it will cost you four-hundred-thousand yen a day plus expenses.”
“You are not worried about getting involved in Yakuza business,” Aiko was carefully watching my face.
“Only a nutcase isn’t apprehensive about stepping on the Yakuza’s feet,” I tried to keep my eyes friendly “but in my line-of-business, you get use to fleas.”
My response must have been the one Aiko wanted, because she added a floppy disk and a small note to the envelope and held it up to me. Nice manicure, glossy cherry pink on those fingernails, no beginner did those nails. I took the items and I opened the note, it had a person’s name and the name of a hospital, Osaka Naru, Toranomon Hospital. I looked at Aiko, saying, “A friend of a friend.”
The mysterious woman nodded before she stood up and then said, “I’ll contact you in eight hours,” I opened my mouth but she added, “I do have your telephone number.”
With movie star grace Aiko turned and headed for the door, a mystery woman who wanted to remain a mystery but I just had to ask, “What if an emergency comes up, how will I contact you.”
I should’ve seen this coming and I must have looked just like Bogie did, Aiko half turning, a come-here smile on her flawless face, her words just like Bacall’s, “Just whistle. You do know how to whistle? Just put your lips together and blow.”
Before Aiko could reach the door, it opened to reveal Yajue. She gave our client a short bow and then she looked at me, silent giggles in her brown eyes and I couldn’t stop myself, I whistled.
Aiko left through the front door and I could hear her footsteps head for the elevator. I waited several minutes as did my number two before turning to her, smiling while waiting for the words I saw on her face, “Are you sure we should take this case, Thisbe-san,” Yajue had a way of sobering me up quick, “the Yakuza in front of us, the police behind us and a typhoon about to apply a bear hug on the city?”
I put her off, “So this month’s color going to be midnight blue,” making reference to her new hair color.
Yajue rolled her eyes and then she spoke, using my nickname, “Kore-chan, I’ve seen you play hardball with old Yakuza bosses, highflying salarymen and mucky-muck politicians but when it comes to women, kids and cats, you are a marshmallow.”
See I told you.
“Be that as it may, Number Two, we need a paycheck to help feed our gang,” I decided to play on Yajue’s position as our sub-leader, “I don’t know about the others but my taste buds tell me that man doesn’t live by instant ramen alone.”
“I beg your pardon,” an indigent voice came from the other side of Yajue, “last night we had fried tofu mixed with vegetables in teriyaki sauce,” eighteen-year-old Ichigo poked her pink curly head out from behind the taller woman, she pouted with hurt pride.
“Ichigo-chan, why don’t you roundup the rest of our pack,” the reminder of last night’s meal was all I needed, “it’s time to get a Texas T-bone before I forget what one tastes like.”
“You gaijins are sure spoiled with your high meat intake, we got enough instant ramen and tofu to last us a couple of weeks,” I let my worse-than-death gaze tell Ichigo my opinion for that idea, she relented, “Okay-okay, I’ll go get the others,” the teen walked away from my sight but the sound of a door chime told me she had gone into our private apartment.
“I see you’ve made up your mind,” I let my silence be my affirmation, besides Yajue wasn’t trying real hard to convince me, so she held out her hand and I gave her the floppy disk, “I get a hardcopy of what’s here and then we can figure out how to divide up the assignment.”
“I want Kanyo and Janyo to stay here and keep everyone informed on our progress” I walked over to the sofa with the envelope in my left hand, “as well as to mind the store.”
“Yes,” Yajue nodded her agreement, “the Twins could lose track of time and we might not be able to get to them before the typhoon hits.”
The painting over the sofa was an interesting one, it showed the Earth as seen from the Moon, a huge blue and white ball in the blackness of space rising above the moonscape, but what made this picture so unique was broken columns that bordered the left and right edges, like someone was standing amongst all that desolation, seeking hope by looking at the Earth. I carefully lifted the artwork off of its hook and put it on the sofa, it had been a gift from a client’s daughter, our investigation and rescue of her from some kidnappers had been our first big case, it had also convinced Yajue and the other girls that being detectives was as fun as being members of a biker gang, although not as profitable. I pushed the hook in and an audible click occurred and a six-by-five inch panel slowly opened to its left. Inside the hole were various files I considered too important to leave in a file cabinet, but before I deposited the envelope, I opened it and took out enough yens to cover our current bills since living and working in Tokyo is very expensive, especially when your profession includes bribes.
After closing the hidden panel and putting the painting back on its hook, I made my way to the outer office, where the rest of the girls had gathered around Yajue’s desk. She was gathering up the pages being spit out by the printer behind her chair.
“Howdy, Good morning, Boss,” a chorus of girly voices greeted my appearance, it was impossible for me not to feel motherly toward them, so young were those faces, even Yajue was only twenty-two, the only legal adult in this room besides me, and the hair. I’m certain they get their ideas for hair color from a 64 box of Crayola Crayons, but underneath those pretty faces of lipstick and rouge I could sense the fragile hardness inside them, the loss of teenage fancies replaced by the grim lessons of the streets.
“So what’s the case?” twin voices ask, Kanyo and Sanyo, the Gemini Twins as I called them, looked at me with their sky blue eyes, their adolescent bodies and their bobbysoxer clothes showed them to be the youngest of our gang, just thirteen years old.
“Information gathering,” I replied, some of the faces took on bored expressions, “but we could end up butting heads with the Yakuza,” those expressions showed interest and I turned my attention to the young girl with apricot hair, “Torami-chan, I’m going to need you to make contact with your friends in Shibuya teen gangs. An incident involving a dead pusher and the rape of a teenager happened on their tuff.”
“Aye-aye, Uno-umo,” Torami gave a Boy Scout salute, her grin full of delight.
“So we’re going to operate in Goto Clan territory?” with the blizzard of colorful girls clothes around me, purple-haired Myomi appeared the strangest just from her clothing normalness, the white kimono and scarlet baggy pants of a Shinto shrine maiden.
“It’s very possible, Myomi-chan, so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind going to Yoyogi Park and the Togo Shrine, employing your sharp ears there?” I hated to send our newest member into danger, the sight of her milky eyes made me softhearted but her straight back poise told you she didn’t want your pity, just your respect and she earned mine the day she saved the Gemini Twins from a pack of wild dogs.
“My best is always yours, Rogers-san,” no doubt in Myomi’s tone.
“Suzue-chan,” a sixteen-year-old girl with buzzed-cut black hair turned to face me, “I don’t believe I need to ask you to go with Myomi-chan and make sure she doesn’t lose track of time.”
“That’s right, Kone-chan,” the day Myomi had joined our group, Suzue had declared she would protect the blind girl, the shrine maiden hadn’t said yea or nay to the idea and since then the two were inseparable.
I decided now to give my warning, “Okay, everyone, listen up,” a pause in the small talk and all their attention was on me, “you have less than twenty hours to gather whatever information you can find on this case, then you either hightail back to here or go to one of the emergency shelters or,” then I gave them a wink, “shack up with your boyfriend or your girlfriend,” there was a lot of blushing, giggling and friendly elbowing.
It only took me a few seconds to notice the printer had finished its job and I patiently watched Yajue speed-read the hardcopy, when she finished her brown eyes had an apprehensive look so I asked, “Problems?”
“I think our client has ironclad connections with the Metro Police,” Yajue hand the papers to me, “some of them are the notes from the investigating officers, less than five hours old.”
“Groovy!” that came from Odaijiko, a platinum blonde whose hair touched the backs of her knees, “Well, isn’t it?” she questioned when people around her gave her dirty looks.
“Yes and no,” I replied as I handed the papers to Ichigo to photocopy, “it means that someone near the investigation believes that this case is too delicate for the police to discover all the facts.”
“But that means the police won’t get in our way, doesn’t it?” Odaijiko was trying to put together what I told her.
“Listen, lamebrain,” redheaded Ashimi thumped Odaijiko’s head with her right fist, “it means we can’t expect the Seventh Cavalry to come over the hill if we get into trouble.”
“Owe! That’s hurts!” Odaijiko held her head with her hands, then a brainy thought lit up her face as she asked, “If the police are going to give this case a wide berth, then who’s getting the information.”
“Could a rival Yakuza gang be duping us, Rogers-kun?” Nae-chan suggested. "Getting us to do their dirty work for them?” The fifteen-year-old had been one of few of our gang to go back to school; her parents still willing to support her even through she no longer lived with them.
“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” Yajue replied, “I’ve been in a couple of Yakuza turf wars and they usually want people to know who is doing what to whom.”
“Unless it’s a third party,” Nae retorted, “our client did keep her face hidden.”
“I agree with Nae, Number Two,” I said before Yajue could reply, “I think we are dealing with a third party, but who I don’t know.”
“It could be a vendetta,” the look Yajue gave me showed this was her judgment based on her own experience, “the paramedics report said Osaka-san’s clothes were viciously torn, her face badly clawed and her panties ripped off.”
Several of the girl’s faces went pale at what Yajue suggested, so I said, “It’s true, she was raped, but our client wants us to find the lab that made the drug that turned her boyfriend into a rapist,” I could already see some raising their hands, so I added, “Our client told me there is already someone going after the boyfriend, so he isn’t our concern,” then I let my baby blues turn as hard as marbles, “unless we accidentally stumble over him,” each of the girls gave me a nod of approval before I continued, “alright, Number Two will give out the rest of the assignments, I’m going to the hospital to talk to doctor handling Osaka-san, maybe some of her friends will be there for me to interview.”
“Do you need backup?” Ashimi asked as she gave me puppy dog eyes.
“No so you don’t get to ride with me on my hog,” I grinned at Ashimi’s pout, the most openly lesbian I had ever known, the redhead had been trying since day one to get into my pants while I was still wearing them.
“C’mon, Ashimi-chan, you can help me,” Yajue ordered. I watched for a few minutes as the organized chaos commence, then I headed for the stairs, where I heard several, “Goodbye, Break a leg, Take care,” I waved back, saying, “Don’t take any firearms out, there are military types out there to prevent looting, so take care and call me if something comes up.”
“You do the same thing,” Suzue responded, everyone in that room knew I had a tendency to go off on my own, trying to keep the others out of harm’s way by doing it alone. Their rejoinder has always been the same, for them the gang was their family and family sticks together, maybe that is why I mother hen them so much.
For most people six floors of stairs would automatically make them use the elevator, not me, I prefer them since they help keep me in shape and there was the additional advantage that they led to a door on the first floor, a door only Yajue and me had the keys to. It didn’t take that much persuading to get the strip bar owner to let me convert and expanded an old storage room into a garage for my Harley. The motorcycle had been a gift from my Grandpa when I graduated from high school and Dad had sent it here when I decided to stay in Nihon, him saying that I should have something with me to remind me of where I came from. A Harley-Davidson Shovelhead Police Special, built in 1974 and painted with the same color scheme as the one in Easy Rider, Stars and Stripes Forever, the only addition I added later was the hard case saddlebags.
As usual I gave the bike the once over while I mentally checked off on what I had in those saddlebags and I added a few more things I believe I would need for the case, then I unlocked the rollup door that led to the alley behind the brick building, rolled out my beauty and closed the door. Unlike some bikers I use a full helmet, which is one reason I kept my hair short, thus I strap it on after I got on my bike and turned the key. It felt so wonderful to have those powerful vibrations between my legs, the instant pleasure it sent into my brain, only a real biker could understand the love I felt for my macho machine, so I knocked the kickstand up and off I went with a roar.
********
Toranomon Hospital, Minato-ku
With the streets almost deserted, only emergency vehicles out and about, I made quick passage to the Toranomon Hospital but I was stopped at the front desk while they called up to intensive care, checking out my credentials. In about five minutes a candy striper came up to me and bowed, a somber look upon her pretty face, “Good morning, I’m Mizuno Ami and I will escort you to Osaka-san’s room,” her voice trying to be pleasant but failing.
“Thank you,” I returned the bow, even with her indigo hair and pale face, Mizuno was the perfect picture of a candy striper with her page haircut and good posture.
In the elevator, Mizuno pushed the seventh floor button, which suggested something to me, “Osaka-san has already been moved into a private room?”
The blue-haired girl gave me a measured look, like she was analyzing every filament of my being, before she said, “Yes, Osaka-san is out of immediate danger.”
There it was again, that solemn look when she mentioned Osaka’s name, so I took a chance, “Is Naru-san your friend?”
There was that analyzing look again, it made me think I had advanced on the evolutionary track in Mizuno’s sapphire eyes, but her voice remained calm, professional, “We went to the same junior high school but Naru-chan is more of a friend of a friend than anything else.”
Maybe I have an overactive imagination or maybe it was my professional paranoia getting the better of me, but when two people use the same idiom about the same person in less than four hours, I get suspicious.
We reached the seventh floor and when the door opened, there stood an older version of Mizuno in a doctor’s uniform, blue hair and studious look included. My action was to follow the candy striper out, where the look-a-like said, “Thank you, Ami-chan, for getting him, but now I need someone to gather up the bedpans on level five.”
It doesn’t matter how professional you are, some tasks are just disgusting and that was the look Mizuno gave the doctor but she said, “Alright, Mama.”
“Good girl,” a proud tone to the doctor’s voice as we both watched Mizuno get back into the elevator, push a button and the door closed.
“So you are Osaka Naru’s physician?” she nodded as I shook her hand, “I’m Rogers Thisbe, I’m a private detective hired to find out where the drug that her boyfriend ingested came from.”
Doctor Mizuno had a thoughtful look on her face as I gave my card to her, then she said, “Follow me,” I did as she told me and as we walked she said, “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”
“Oh?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Uhh . . .”
“Three years ago.”
“Hmmm . . .”
“You were in a mix up in Shinjuku and I had to patch you up.”
It struck me like a cement truck, “You were teaching at Keio Medical University and I was brought into its hospital, I remember you telling me that when I said . . .” I let my hurried words died when I remember what I said.
“You told me only dry fossils should teach,” a lopsided smile on Doctor Mizuno’s face, “and that I should use my witchy looks to seduce someone.”
“I have an excuse, Doc,” talk about my past coming back to haunt me, “the local anesthesia was making me horny,” the dubious look on her face had me adding, “Really!"
Mizuno couldn’t hold it any longer, she gave me a shy giggle and I felt relief when she said, “It’s alright and since we’ve met before, you can call me, Rikomi.”
“Clever person?”
“So you know something about our language beyond street slang.”
“I can handle romanji but I’m a bump on a log when it comes to kanji, katakana or hiragana.”
“Then why don’t you go to a cram school?”
“Got my hands full running my own business.”
“So you own Titan Detective Agency?”
“Actually, it’s more like a co-op.”
“A co-op?”
“You know that biker gang you also patched up that night?”
“How could I forget, their language was as dirty as their bodies were.”
“Well, to make a long story short they are working with me and have been for the past three years.”
Rikomi frowned at that news but then her blue eyes lit up, “Of course, I must be getting old if I didn’t recognize the name of the agency the media has dub . . .”
“Please, Rikomi-san, don’t say it,” it was just one building, one little building but the Tokyo press didn’t let it slide, “me and my girls don’t go around blowing up ships and shooting a ton of bullets at cats.”
The grin on Rikomi’s face showed she knew I was on the ropes, but she yielded, “Alright, I won’t say it,” then she smirked, “I’ll just think it.”
“Just as long as I don’t read minds and call me, Thisbe,” we stopped at a door and I noticed Rikomi’s expression turning serious, “Osaka-san’s room?”
“Something is happening to Osaka-san,” Rikomi’s tone betrayed the futility she was feeling right now, “whatever happened in the alley behind the club, something is causing her body to change and I can’t identify it, which means I can’t find a way to stop it and reverse the process.”
“How bad is it?” I had only my training as a medic to fall back on.
“Naru-san’s life signs are erratic, her hormone count is 150 percent above normal and there are unidentifiable enzymes in her blood,” the look on Rikomi’s face told me what she couldn’t say, Osaka Naru was moved from intensive care not because she was out of danger; it was because they couldn’t do anything for her. The private room was meant to give the girl and her friends some last private moments before she died.
“She hasn’t awakened, right?” I knew from personal experience what it was like to lose a patient.
“I already asked a friend of my daughter’s, a Shinto shrine maiden, to pray for a miracle,” no doctor wants to give up on a patient, Rikomi was no exception.
“Are the parents here?”
“She’s an only child, the mother is in another room, I had to sedate her,” my question had the opposite effect that I wanted, Rikomi was hurting inside and I was trying to keep her in one piece.
“Can I go in?”
“I think you should,” Rikomi looked up at me, ripples of water in her blue orbs, “her friends are inside and maybe they will find comfort that you and your associates are going to stop this from happening to someone else.”
“Thank you,” I said, “and I will pray for a miracle for your sake, Rikomi-san.”
A bittersweet smile from Rikomi was my reward, “If you got time later on, Thisbe-san, maybe you can drop by the hospital’s cafeteria for a cup of tea and we can talk about what has happened over the past three years.”
“That would be fine,” I nodded which Rikomi returned before she stepped to the door and opened it.
The gazes that looked at us put me on edge, the violence from the brunette, the puffy anguish from the odango blonde and the iron protectiveness from the black-haired young man, yet it was the redhead in the hospital bed, the rising and lowering of the blankets covering her was the only thing to counter her frozen features, the plastic tubes and the intermitted beeping of the medical equipment told me of their fragile hope.
“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to Rogers Thisbe,” I gave them a short bow, “a private detective hired to find the people who are responsible for Osaka-san’s condition,” the tall girl at the foot of the bed narrowed her eyes, “and as a personal favor, I would like to ask you to help by answering Rogers-san’s questions.”
It took a moment for the brunette and the black-haired man to give their nods, the petite girl acted like she didn’t hear Rikomi’s request. Then the doctor turned to me, “Rogers-san, my I introduce to you Kino Makoto,” the tall girl kept her green eyes on me while giving a short bow, “Chiba Mamoru,” because he was seated next to the bed with the teary girl in his lap, the youth just nodded, “and Tsukino Usagi,” she was wrapped loosely in a pale blue blanket, part of which laid on the bed.
“I’m sorry if you see my intrusion was ill-timed,” I said as I put some space between me and Rikomi, “and although I have read the police notes, my experience has shown me that sometimes they will overlook something you might have spotted,” the one identified as Makoto had bodyguard written all over her and her scowl showed she wanted to pound someone, anyone, just for some relief.
“We will do our best to help you, Rogers-san,” the young man’s rich smooth voice made me face him, but from the corner of my eye I saw the brunette visibly force her body to relax.
“Well, I have other patients to see so I’ll leave you alone,” Rikomi said but when she reached the door, she added to me, “I glad you’re here to help,” then she walked out and closed the door.
“You know Mizuno-sensei?” Makoto was giving my big body the once over, probably estimating her chances of taking me if I proved dangerous.
“Mizuno-sensei was there when I needed help,” I vaguely replied and I got out my palmtop, “and I think she sees me as some kind of white knight.”
“Are you?” some doubt in Makoto’s question.
“I’m just making a living helping people solve their problems,” I opened my palmtop and activated it, then I started the questioning, “from the police notes I gathered Chiba-san and Tsukino-san were going on a double date with Osaka-san and her boyfriend, Umino Gurio, correct?”
“Yes,” there was strength behind those unwavering dark eyes, and by the fact he was still dressed in evening wear, it suggest to me both he and Usagi came directly to the hospital from their interrupted date, while Makoto was wearing a combo blue denim pants and coat, suggesting she came from her home, “but we became separated when we tried to avoid the line waiting to get into Club Asia, a dance club.”
“Huh, huh,” I page down before adding, “you told the police that Umino-san stated he knew of a back way into the club.”
“Although I was willing to wait, my girlfriend wanted to try it as did Osaka-san,” Chiba’s arms protectively around the petite blonde’s waist, “but when we tried it, we became separated by the maze of passageways that the rear entrance led us into.”
There was something wrong with the odango blonde, was she drugged? Her eyes look unglazed but she hadn’t done anything to show she knew I was there. To see if I could get something from the little lady, I stepped forward while saying, “Who first heard Osaka-san’s scream?”
Suddenly a hand dropped onto my left shoulder, “You don’t need to crowd them, now do you?” I hadn’t even heard Makoto move yet she was behind me; her iron grip told me her 5-8 body had a hefty amount of muscle.
“It's okay, Mako-chan,” I was caught off-guard by the musical quality of the young blonde’s voice, like chimes in the wind, “I first heard Naru-chan’s scream.”
I turned my head to stare first at the firm hand on my shoulder, then at the tall ginger girl, she continued to stare me down for a moment before she let go, the warning was clear to me, yet it was another movement that caught my eye. Something moved under the part of Tsukino’s blanket that laid on Osaka’s bed. If the petite blonde was leaning toward her unconscious friend, I assume it’s was her hand and they were using the blanket to conceal the fact so the nurses wouldn’t object to her holding Osaka-san’s shoulder, yet Tsukino was sitting with her back straight, “Who was the first to reach her?” I decided to store this clue for later thought.
“I . . .”
“No, Mamoru-chan,” Tsukino looked up at Chiba and shook her head before she looked back at me, “I got there first.”
There was a shielded gaze in Chiba eyes, the kind my back told me I was getting from Kino, while on the other hand Tsukino was giving me a clear determined look, “Tsukino-san?”
“Please, call me, Usagi,” the weak smile she gave me told me she was hurting inside.
“Okay, Usagi-san,” it was very unusual for someone to instantly promoted me to first name basis, especially in this culture, “so can you tell me what you saw?” I was both mildly surprised and a little bit delighted by her sincerity.
“When we got separated, I ended up in the janitor’s closet and I was trying to get out when I heard Naru-chan’s scream,” Usagi’s voice sounded to me like it was in a minor key, a sound of broken hopes to it. “I ran as fast as I could until I saw a dead body and I frozen, thinking it was her body,” tears split from her eyes, “then Naru-chan screamed to my left and I turned and I saw her,” there was no mistaken she was once more reliving the terror, it was plain on her face, “the creature had her pinned facedown on a beanbag, a few pieces of her clothes at her waist and arms,” then a new tune joined her voice, self-loathing, “and I watched as the monster repeatedly plunged its thing into my oldest friend, I can still hear her begging for mercy and I did nothing.”
“It’s okay, Usagi-san,” I told her, this was in the police notes and Aiko told me that Osaka was raped but not that her best friend had witnessed it, “if you had tried anything, the creature would’ve attacked you.”
“But you don’t understand!” Usagi’s shout hit my ears in stereo as she stood up, her blue eyes burning bright, “I should have done something, I’m . . .”
“No, Usako,” Chiba immediately came to his feet and hugged her tight from behind, “all my dreams would turn to smoke if I ever lost you.”
“But Mamoru-chan . . .”
“No, don’t fault yourself, Usagi-chan,” Kino spoke from behind me, tough tenderness in her tone, “rape is the worst nightmare for any woman, you freezing at seeing it happening isn’t unnatural.”
Those words of Kino rang of living experience and then Usagi’s face looked confused, her voice lost in uncertainty, “Mako-chan . . .”
“Naru-chan will just have to pick herself up and go on with living,” Kino glanced at the unconscious figure breathing slowly.
I hated what I was about to do but I had no choice, “Usagi-san, I need you to tell . . .”
The reaction I got wasn’t completely unexpected, my body was spun around and hoisted in the air by two powerful hands grabbing fistfuls of my coat, her lightening green eyes met my baby blues and her voice crackled in my ears, “YOU FREAKING BASTARD! USGAI-CHAN’S best friend was RAPED right in front of her EYES! Isn’t that ENOUGH for you?”
Where did this Kino woman get such strength? Except for being above the average height for a Nihonjin she looked like a typical high school student, yet she had my feet doing a space walk, me weighting in at 181 pounds. Add to this was the fact I didn’t want to start a fight in Rikomi’s hospital, nor with people who I suspected a friend of theirs had hired me, so when I saw a delicate pink hand touch Kino’s inflamed face and I heard Usagi’s soulful voice said, “Mako-chan, don’t,” I was relieved.
You could see the effort on Kino’s face, her better nature fighting to control her temper and her protectiveness of her friend’s privacy, then she set me back on my feet, her hands straightening my coat, a full glare telling me what she would do if I pushed my luck again.
“I’m sorry if I seem heartless,” I said as I turned to face Usagi and Chiba, “but something you two might have seen, something the police might have overlooked, could make the difference,” I noticed the blanket had fallen from Usagi, she wore a light pink dress with white ribbons running from the shoulders to the wrists, a silver necklace of pearls about her slim neck and an engagement ring on her finger. These things told me how special last night was suppose to be for the teenager, a night she wouldn’t forget for other reasons.
The young girl seemed to think for a moment but then her eyes turned sadder, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can add, the creature left after...” her enchanting voice caught for a second, “after it was done with Naru-chan.”
“When I got there, the creature was gone,” Chiba said, his tone show he considered the subject closed. That was that, what else could I do but nod my head and the young man shifted his attention back to his girl, “Usako, you look exhausted, why don’t I take you home?” then he looked at Kino, “You too, Makoto-san.”
“But my relief . . .”
“Is here, Makoto-chan,” from the doorway a stage whisper came, there I saw another teenager, her purple eyes as dark as her violet hair which contrasted strongly with the white and red of her Shinto shrine maiden clothes, then she looked at me, “Who is this?”
“This is Rogers Thisbe,” Kino’s opinion about me was in her tone, “a PI hired to investigate what happened to Naru-chan.”
I plastered a smile on my face and gave the newcomer a bow before saying, “Essential correct, I’m trying to find out who manufactured the drug,” then with a glance at Chiba, “and I’ve found even more reasons for finding that information.”
“You do?” the lack of sleep registered in Usagi’s voice, Chiba holding her a little tighter.
“Yes,” I held up one finger, “Chiba Mamoru, a heartthrob for many Tokyoite girls and student at Harvard School of Science for the past year,” I held up a second finger, “Hino Rei, shire maiden and heir apparent of the Hikawa Shine as well as being the famous Seer of Fire,” and I held up a third finger and took a wild guess, “and Kino Makoto, former leader of the Tsukiji Biker Gang.”
Both Chiba and Hino didn’t blink an eye at me knowing about their social life, jaded as they are to fame, but it took some wind out of Kino’s sail, “How did you know?”
“Naito Suzue,” I said simply.
Kino’s eyes soften and for the first time I saw a genuine smile on her lips, “Suzue-chan, how is she?”
“I work with her now,” it seemed I scored a few brownie points with the ginger girl.
“Mako-chan, you were in a biker gang?” Usagi’s sleepiness gave way to her curiosity.
Maybe I didn’t score those brownie points, the tall girl looked uncomfortable and she mumbled out, “Yeah,” when she saw her answer wasn’t going to be accepted at face value, she added, “before I started going to your school, Usagi-chan, after I got kicked out of my former school, I kind of drifted for awhile.”
“Oooh, what was it like?” there had to have been a catgirl in Usagi’s family tree, I would swear her butt was twitching like she had a tail.
“It was nothing to crow about,” Makoto feigned indifference.
“Nothing?” Rei’s voice was neutral but her eyes sparkled, “Really, Makoto-chan, for six months you ran the gang that controlled the Tsukiji Fish Market.”
This revelation turned two blue lamps onto Rei, “You knew?” the shrine maiden nodded to Usagi’s question, “And you never told me?” Boy, this blonde sure could whine.
“Makoto-chan never told you so I fingered I shouldn’t either,” when Usagi moved pass me to crowd Rei that was when I saw that the back of her dress was all torn up, I wasn’t able to get a good look because Chiba effectively blocked my view.
“That was mean,” Usagi giving twin pouts to her friends, “both of you,” I was having a hard time fitting the clues to what I was seeing, it was now clear to me that Chiba and Kino were trying to conceal the fact that Usagi had been attacked by the creature, but the odango blonde sure didn’t act like an attack victim.
“You never asked how come I knew Makoto-chan before you brought her to the shrine,” Rei’s voice lost its neutrality, getting edgy, “it’s her business not mine.”
“And it came to an end with the Flounder Rumble,” Kino actually cringed when I used the newspaper label for a Yakuza turf war that left only two members of Kino’s gang alive, “from what Suzue-chan told me, she got away but the cops collar you.”
“Look, let’s just say I ended up back in school and leave it at that, okay?” You could tell Kino was getting tired of being tag-teamed by me and the blonde, we two shared a look before nodding together, “Good, we’ll leave Rei-chan to watch over Naru-chan.”
Usagi took a moment to stare at Naru before being the first out the door with Chiba right behind her, Kino was next and I was last, Hino closed the door for us. I was still putting facts together when the young man said, “Can we give you a lift home, Makoto-san?”
“Nah, it would take you way out of your way,” then she gave the twosome a sneaky look, “especially since Mamoru-san is staying with your family during the summer break, Usagi-chan.”
Both Usagi and Mamoru let out nervous laughs, which was followed by Mamoru saying, “It’s not that bad and it’s giving me and her parents a chance to get to know each other a little better.”
“In other words, you have to telephone them whenever you two are out late,” Kino leered at them, “so Ikuko-san can hide Kenji-san’s shotgun.”
“You know firearms are illegal in Nihon,” from the look Chiba gave Kino, I believed his relationship with Usagi’s father could be described as rocky.
“True,” she could have pushed it but it looked like to me that Kino was satisfied with getting even over that biker bit.
“I could give you a lift, Kino-san,” it was an opening, a chance for me to pump some clues from the ginger girl.
My suggestion caught all of them off-guard but Kino recovered first, “Alright.”
“Are you sure, Mako-chan?” the ending of Usagi’s question was dotted with a yawn.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Kino reassured them, “you’re dead on your feet and Mamoru-san looks like road kill,” then she looked at me, “besides I want to hear more about how Suzue-chan is doing.”
Maybe I’m the one who is going to get pumped.
**********
Makoto’s Apartment, Azabu Juuban
The Kino girl was silent in the elevator and I decided to play the same game, I didn’t believe small talk would do anything good and taking blind shots would probably get me a knuckle sandwich with the mood she was in, of course that changed a little when she saw my ride, “Yours?”
“All mine,” I said as I tossed her my helmet to wear, “I hope you don’t mind getting cozy with me?” I fished out Grandpa’s leather helmet from out of one of the metal saddlebags.”
“Mind...” Kino’s eyes danced with heavy metal lust as her right hand stroked the engine, “Hell, I’ll give you an erotic enema for a chance to drive this beauty.”
“I’m willing to let you,” opportunity was knocking and I wasn’t going to ignore it.
Disbelief with etched on her face, “Hey, I was just wisecracking about the shit play.”
“Do you know how to work a bike’s clutch and brakes?” now that I knew one of her weaknesses, I wasn’t going to let her worm out.
“Yeah,” Kino’s words echo cautious, “as you well know since you know my past.”
“Then here,” I tossed her the keys.
Kino looked at me like I had grown a second head, “But I’m underage.”
“Only if the cops catch us,” and I gave her an are-you-chicken grin, “and right now they have more pressing business than to watch out for traffic violators.”
Indecision lasted half-a-minute, Kino’s desire winning over her suspicions about my motives. She slipped the red-white-and-blue helmet over her head, slapped the visor down and got on the motorcycle. I put the brown helmet on, fitted the goggles over my eyes and got on the bike behind her. The real test came when I snuggled real tight to Kino’s backside, my hands resting on the inside of her thighs, but the only reaction I got was a momentary turn of the helmet in my direction, a sideway glance masked by the black visor, before it faced forward as she turned the key.
It was all green all the way to Kino’s apartment and I was so glad, the ginger girl had the throttle wide open and she only slowed to make corners. What police and military vehicles we pass paid us no mind, probably thinking we were trying to get out of the typhoon’s path. What I found out from my position behind Kino was she had muscles like steel cables with little or no body fat, once her wheels were screaming down the road the tall girl never once let my roaming hands distract her, of course I avoided a few spots that would have gotten me killed. In the underground garage of her apartment complex, Kino stopped my motorcycle in a guest parking spot where she took off the helmet. Her curvy body heaved with her panting and her green eyes burned with hunger satisfied, then she did something I totally didn’t expect, she twisted around on the seat and locked her lips on mine.
It was a backbreaker, Kino’s powerful arms pulled me hard against her lips, her white teeth clicked against mine; she let go of me before saying, “That was a thank you kiss, Buster, so don’t read anything into it.”
“I won’t,” I took a lot of willpower on my part to make those words not reflex my surprise, then something more embarrassing came to the forefront for me, “Uhh . . . can I use your bathroom.”
There was that genuine smile again, “Sure,” Kino said as she gave me back my key. I put Grandpa’s helmet back in the saddlebag and took the helmet from Kino and let it hang from one of the handlebars. I followed her to the elevator.
When Kino let me into her apartment, I let out a slow whistle because from the entrance I saw at least a dozen plants and a quick check on the three in the hallway gave me an idea of what they all were, “this place must drive a bee crazy during springtime.”
Kino giggled, the first one I heard from her lips, and I looked at her and found the reason, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. She saw my concern and said, “It just hit me how sleepy I am,” then she made a gesture toward the door on our right, “the bathroom is through that door, I’m going to sit on the couch,” indeed there was a sofa in the living room along with tables, cushy chairs and nature’s created beauty.
In opening the door I found a bedroom, very much a girl’s bedroom, the wallpaper decorated with unicorns, the velvety green bedcover, the white vanity with mother-of-pearl brushes and gold trimmed powder box, a dresser with its top covered with photos lovingly framed in silver and of course plants, one on each table next to the queen-sized bed. I didn’t linger to look at the pictures because the bathroom was calling me.
I should have expected it, it was like I had stepped into a rain forest, the walls were covered with creeping vines, they edged the mirror, the basin, the toilet and the shower with living dark green, I let out slow words, “Oh my stars and garters, I wonder if the Tokyo Chamber of Commerce know they have another garden in Azabu-ku.”
While I was paying homage to the porcelain altar, I pulled out my cellphone and quick dialed Yajue’s number. Each member of Titan Detective Agency has a company cellphone meant to be used for company business only, although our bill said differently, “Yajue here.”
“Get the Gemini Twins on conference mode, Number Two,” I told her, “I need their Tokyo rumor mill knowledge.”
It took a minute for Yajue to hunt down the Twins. Most likely they were in our private rooms, doing something girlish, for the next voice I heard was a double, “Hello, Boss!”
“Kanyo-chan, Sanyo-chan, I’ll say some names and you two tell me what you know about them, okay?” being the youngest of our group and the most in on today’s trends and beautiful people, I was sure they were know something.
“Yes, Boss!” their twined voices sound hot and ready.
“Chiba Mamoru.”
“Yesterday’s news, his looks, brains and money put him on every girl’s wish list three years ago but he’s been out of circulation since he started to date a junior high school student. Rumor has it he bedded her before her fourteenth birthday but their three year romantic relationship has led to him giving her an engagement ring.”
“Hino Rei.”
“Shinto shrine maiden at her grandfather’s shrine, has shown psychic abilities to such an extent that people will go to her with their problems, including the police. Some fear her power and look upon her as evil but many who she helped, call her the Seer of Fire or the Fire Maiden. Hino goes to a Catholic School but isn’t a Christian, it's her father’s idea for her to go there. Father and daughter barely talk to each other since her mother died.”
“Mizuno Ami.”
“Teen Wonder, the smartest student in all of Tokyo, has held the number one position on all national tests since she entered elementary school. She is the daughter of Mizuno Rikomi and Mizuno Talya, both extraordinary people. Rikomi-san is a specialist in childhood diseases while Talya is a gifted artist. Rumor has it she is planning to follow in her mother’s footsteps.”
I thought over what the Gemini Twins told me then I said, “Thank you, you can go back to your game and stay off of my game machine.”
There was some grumbling before they said in unison, “Yes, Boss.”
When they left, I asked Yajue, “Have you found anything more about the victim.”
“Yes, but I don’t think you going to like it,” Yajue’s tone told me she didn’t like it.
“I have a bad feeling,” I said.
“It’s going to get worse,” Yajue informed me, “Osaka Naru was in the middle of the attacks on Tokyo citizens during the last three years, the attackers were the people taken out by the Sailor Senshi, led by Sailor Moon.”
I was puzzled by Yajue’s tone of dread, “I don’t get you, lots of people where attacked by those creatures but that doesn’t make them important.”
“Osaka-san was attacked five times,” there was a long silence on my part, which prompted Yajue to ask, “Kone-chan?”
“You’re right, it did get worse,” another pause from me before I asked, “Anything else.”
“Myomi-chan wants us to bring in Tokyo’s stray cat population so they’ll be safe from the typhoon,” some humor in Yajue’s voice, “other than that no new news. How about you?”
“Nothing important.” Then I remembered, "But tell Suzue-chan that I met an old biker friend of hers, Kino Makoto.”
“Will do as soon as she calls in,” acknowledgement from Yajue, “Sayonara.”
“Hear from you later,” I shut the cellphone off, clean my bottom and flushed.
When I reentered the living room, I found Kino out cold on the sofa with her head resting on the top and her mouth wide open, her breathing slow and smooth. Some might take advantage of this moment to noise around but I’m not that kind of person, instead I went to the linen closet and got out an extra pillow and a red-black checkerboard comforter. The tall girl didn’t wake when I moved her lengthwise on the couch, the pillow under her head and the blanket draped over her, and I said as I stood looking down at that peaceful face, “Sleep well, Thunderheart.”
Kino’s eyes didn’t open but her mouth did, the words I barely heard, “Call me, Makoto,” her breathing told me she didn’t even leave dreamland.
I guess I passed another test, of course Yajue would say this proved how much of a marshmallow I am.
********
Flowers in the Attic, Shibuya-ku
I parked Old Glory outside of Reikyo and made my way to the only lesbian club in Shibuya, Flowers in the Attic, and unlike the other pink establishments that carter to adult pleasures, this place was meant for teenage lesbians. A safe place for them to come, dance, meet others like themselves and stretch their wings, including rooms with one-way mirrors, allowing some privacy while listening to the music and watching colorful sweaty bodies gyrate. I was a little surprised when I saw teens going in and the lack of street noise let me hear the techo-rock every time the door opened-closed. I too went through that same door and there stood Kotoe, a smallish woman with a dynamitic personality and no phony smile for me, “So you’re having a hurricane party?” I asked.
“You should’ve heard the parents call here,” unlike some here Kotoe used no makeup, preferring that her lean face to tell people about her nature, “begging us to stay open so they could send their kids here to get them out of their hair.”
“No school days can get some parents seeing red,” I smirked before getting serious, “I presume the police know about this.”
“We got permission to stay open until three tomorrow morning." She nodded her orange-haired head, “by then the kids need to be home or they stay here.”
“I think for some of them staying here isn’t an option,” I gave Kotoe the cover charge, “while for some staying here is the only choice.”
“At least it isn’t as bad as it is in your country,” Kotoe gave me three free drink tokens, “here you only have to deal with parents and family traditions, there you have people on the radio and television calling you sinners and freaks, trying to turn your life into a living Hell.”
“The road to perdition is paved with good intentions,” this was an old argument between me and Kotoe, she was an activist in the Tokyo lesbian community and here I am, an American she sees as a redneck, a bluenose and wearing a white sheet. I changed the subject, “Is Torami-chan here?”
“Torami-san is in number three,” Kotoe nodded toward the door on the on the other side of the bar, “she said you were coming.”
As I worked my way between the tables and then the dancing teens, the mix of sweat, perfume and musk produced a heady sexual potion I could scarcely resist, but it was the looks they gave me that really stopped me, looks telling me I was an invader and not welcome. Once I reached the door with the number three on it, it opened before I had a chance to knock and Torami’s smiling face welcomed me, “I found your mole, Boss.”
I looked over the girl and I saw a knockout, she looked to be around my age, white hair that flowed down the chair she sat in until it touched the floor, her ripe hourglass figure under an elegant red dress and features that spoke of European heritage, her reddish-brown eyes and full red lips gave me an itch between my legs, which clued me into what she was, “Torami-chan, what’s her name?”
“Her name is Najaekav Aisha,” Torami-chan’s black eyes showed pity, “she’s the piece of ass of Asano Isaburo, the Chem King of a good piece of Tokyo,” then she place a hand on my arm, “please, be nice to her, she’s a slave.”
I didn’t see any marks on Torami’s neck but her downy blue shirt looked disheveled, her voice off keyed, so I told her, “You head back to HQ and I’ll take over here.”
Torami looked back at Aisha, the ivory-skinned woman nodded her head, “Okay, Boss.”
When I couldn’t see one hair of Torami’s apricot hair, I stepped in and closed the door and I kept my eyes from looking directly into the woman’s gaze, even when she said, “Are you afraid of me?”
In one fluid motion I was next to Aisha, my left knee pinned her waist to the chair while my right hand grabbed the hair near her scalp and pulled down her head back and down, then I said in my best Carpathian, “Leave the child alone, she is under my protection, take from her again and I will leave a part of you at every crossroad throughout Wallachia.”
There was red animal rage in Aisha’s eyes, her fanged mouth hissing at me, she tried to throw me off but I used leverage and my free arm to keep me on her, my cold rage keeping at bay her attempt to dominate me like she had Torami. Finally she slumped in defeat and said in perfect Carpathian, “If you kill Isaburo, I will tell you what you seek and I will immediately return to my homeland.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself, blood maiden,” I was curious despite the danger I was in.
“He is my master, I cannot raise my hand against him,” at that moment I saw fear in those blood eyes.
It could be a trick and I didn’t plan to take any chances, I pushed my knee into Aisha’s gut and pulled her hair down, the wind fleeing her open mouth, “No tricks, Najaekav, or you will taste garlic.”
“I swear . . . on my sire’s blood . . .” Aisha used the air as soon as she sucked it in, “I will speak . . . only the truth.”
“Speak!” I shouted to keep my rage burning, “How did a child of the night end up the sex slave of a chemical supplier of the Yakuza?”
“I disobeyed my sire and he punished me by selling me into slavery,” Aisha’s face showed her shame of that judgment, “it was by chance I was brought by Isaburo,” she spat out the name.
Once more I yank down hard on her hair and when she let out a painful screech, I slammed my forehead right between her eyes. God it was like I bounced my head against a brick wall but it had the desired results, Aisha’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. In that moment of the vampire’s semi-consciousness, I used both my arms to yank up on the chair, balancing it, Aisha and myself on my right leg before ramming it down with our combined weight on the wooden legs. They splintered on the first try just as I hoped they would, the shock of my success unscrambled the white-haired undead’s brain but before she could act, I had a sixteen-inch piece of wood poised over her heart, my words as sharp as its point, “New offer, bloodsucker, you tell me what I want to know and you get to go home with a whole heart.”
There was real fear in Aisha’s gaze, her broken nose showing signs of swelling and blood trickled from both nostrils. She could have been thinking of throwing me off, hoping my first strike would miss her heart, but that fear became muted, her blood eyes show something I could easily identify, homesickness, “I accept.”
Those two words were all I needed to hear since Grandpa once told me that such immortals live by a strict code of honor, they had to because their alliances, friendships and loves need to exist for centuries, hidden amongst mortals, the prey who would kill if bloodshed reveal their existence. In seconds I used my left hand to grasp her right hand and used her as a counterweight to pull us both onto our feet, her face showed surprise when my right hand tossed the makeshift stake away, pulled my green handkerchief out and offer it to her, “Sorry about the shiners, Najaekav, but I can’t afford to get into a rumble with the Yakuza because I snuffed out one of their suppliers,” I motioned my head towards the door, “too many kids like Torami depend on me.”
“You speak good Carpathian,” Aisha accepted my offer, she no longer looked like a male sex fantasy, just a real good looking woman, “and you know our ways,” her voice going nasal as she whapped the blood from her upper lip, “who taught you?”
I smiled at the shift in Aisha’s demeanor toward me, she had no choice because honor was everything in the underground society, “My Grandpa was a OSS agent in Europe during World War Two and he ran Operation Seraphim for the CIA after the war,” her face showed she was trying to remember what I was talking about, but her frown told me something so I asked, “How old are you?”
Aisha looked embarrassed, “Eighty years old,” I smirked and her look deepened, “I was sired in 1947.”
“No wonder,” I shook my head, “you were just a pup and you still are.”
“Now wait a minute,” wounded pride in Aisha’s voice, “there’s nothing wrong with my techni...”
“You overplayed the vamp, vamp,” I looked around and spotted the intercom, “and I might have let it go if you hadn’t put the bite on Torami.”
“I had to know if you are an honorable person,” Aisha tipped her head back and continued to hold my hankie against her nose, “I had to make sure you wouldn’t betray me to Isaburo.”
“How long have you been in Tokyo?” the vampire’s words puzzled me, I walked over to the intercom.
“Seven years,” Aisha kept an eye on me, “why?”
“Seven years and you don’t know my reputation,” I hit the red button, “Zeggi-san, can you send up two aspirin and a Blood Moon.”
“Yes sir,” the bartender reply just heard above the background music.
“Isaburo kept me a prisoner in his home,” you couldn’t miss the hate in Aisha’s voice, “bringing me out whenever he wanted to do something strange.”
“Like?" I knew Isaburo’s reputation for being a sociopath but firsthand knowledge would help me fill out the picture.
There was silence, Aisha’s face a captive of warring emotions, anger, hate, pain and shame, I waited and my patience was rewarded, “When I needed blood, he would starve me for three or four days until I was crazy with bloodlust,” I was amazed to watch this proud vampire crumple to floor, “then he would bring in a runaway, a girl with barely a swell to her chest and a few hairs on her twat,” her eyes staring straight ahead, seeing her past, “and he would have me blood bond with them and make the girls his sex slaves.”
A knock on the door interrupted Aisha, I opened the door and a waitress was there with my order, “Thank you, miss,” my tip ringed on her tray and took the medicine and the tall crystal glass.
“My pleasure, Kone-chan,” her pretty face framed by a girlish grin.
I looked closely, only a few outside the gang knew my nickname, and I saw the darker red underneath the candy red wig, “Ashimi-chan, when did you get here?”
“I was here before you were,” Ashimi scoped up my tip before I thought to take it back, “Yajue thought you should have backup because of the rep hanging around Isaburo’s people,” then she looked around me and stared at Aisha, “and I also got Torami-chan a cab,” her gaze unforgiving, “because she was so wasted.”
“Good job, Ashimi-chan,” I added with a nod, “now go and keep a lookout.”
“Yes, Boss,” then as Ashimi reached for the doorknob, she asked, “Hey, how do I look in my waitress uniform?”
I didn’t miss Ashimi’s come-on tone but I decided to indulge her flight of fancy, “the yellow miniskirt matches your eyes but I would drop the bobby socks, they make you look like pervert bait.”
Ashimi thought for a moment before she grinned, “Okay, Boss,” and she closed the door.
As I walked toward Aisha, she continued, “Sometimes we would do threesomes, Isaburo pounding her snatch and me ripping her asshole with an overlarge dildo, sometimes he would have us act out one of his sick sex fantasy, dress up in costumes, speak phony lines and go down on each other.”
I knelt next to her and switched my handkerchief for the aspirin and the glass of dark red liquid, “Take these,” I said and she did along with the glass’ contents, “It’s pig’s blood, it might not be human blood but it will help in the healing.”
“Thank you,” then Aisha continued, “Those that wouldn’t break, Isaburo had me drain dry and then have the corpses fed to his dogs,” there was so much pain in her words, “those that were broken, he had me empty their souls and they became vacant vessels that would do whatever they were told. Isaburo would give them to his friends, partners and associates as living sex dolls.”
An idea struck me, “But they were more than just sex toys?”
“Yes,” so much shame in Aisha’s reply, “they were Isaburo’s eyes, ears and sometimes hands.”
It was chilly to know they were such human monsters like Isaburo around and I try not to let myself get jaded by their numbers, “Isaburo must’ve had a password, something that would trigger his already given orders.”
“He did,” Aisha nodded, “give my soul to keep.”
I was disgusted. I’m not a Catholic or someone who carries his religion on a cross, but using the Lords Prayer as a part of his sickness got to me, “He kept you on a short leash?”
“Isaburo would confine me to a special set of secret rooms deep in his compound,” she swallowed the last of the pig’s blood, “there were times when only my nature told me when it was day or night.”
“Then how did you get here?” I was suspicious, if Isaburo kept her so under his control, how could she get out.
“Today is my last day of my punishment so Isaburo sent men to kill me,” Aisha looked at me, her smile like a saw blade, “but not enough and I escaped.”
“He won’t stop looking for you until you are either destroyed,” Aisha’s shark grin made me glad she believe in the code, “or beyond his reach.”
“Isaburo won’t send out enough men to find me,” disgust plain on her pale face, “he is too enamored with his new toy.”
“Who?”
“Not a who,” if you thought Aisha was angry before, the look she gave me now was deadly, “it’s a what.”
Clues click together inside my brain, “The new designer drug.”
“After eight years of building up his chemical supply empire, Isaburo brought what he was always wanted, his own labs to manufacture designer drugs.”
“Whose labs?” I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Tomoe Research,” the tone of Aisha’s answer told me she knew why I suddenly felt uneasy.
“But the lab was destroyed when the Infinity Compound went up in smoke,” I had to point that out.
“Tomoe Research had two more labs,” Aisha’s expression made worse my uneasiness, “one in Yokohama and one under the Tower Records Building.”
It couldn’t be happening again, I was sure that nightmare ended a year and a half ago, but now it was coming back, some sex fiend looking to create designer drugs was resurrecting something best left dead, “Deathbusters.”
(End of Part One)
