On That Faithful Day

 

Short One Shot

Late April; it was my last final exam of my second year in the Bachelor of Arts, it was difficult as they all are but given the allotted time to finish, I was sure I did well on it. I had to do well on it, the GPA needed to be considered for an international student was higher than that of domestic students. Before the final exam marks were to be posted, my GPA stood at a handsome 3.4, not the one I aimed for, but still higher than the average student in the faculty. All the hard work of studying for those quizzes, exams, assignments, and presentations would all be for naught if that 3.5GPA was not achieved. 

Two weeks had gone by and there was still no notification on the school computer system for that last mark. Psychology 302, that one mark that was important for it was the field I was going into. The stress was incomprehensible, the waiting game was a game no one liked to play.

Finally, at a painful 3:00am ping from my phone, I had forced my eyes open to see what it was, it was the school notification system. Sitting up on my elbows, barely being able to see through the blurriness of the sleep in my eyes I tried to focus as hard as I could to see that letter grade — A. I had passed my final exam and got a 3.7GPA, I was ready to finish the application for the school. 

Being the insomniac that I am, staying awake to finish all the paperwork was no challenge. Finding my language proficiency test papers, the application, official transcripts, form for credit transfers, everything I needed was on the computer desk waiting to be sent in. The final step after clicking ‘send,’ was to pay the hefty fee that all international students needed to pay. In a single click of the mouse, months of work and savings was gone, yet I could not have been happier for it. This started the second waiting game.

Having working almost every day throughout the summer to build up savings again, it was hard to believe that it was already mid-June, and that’s when I got an email. I was accepted.

This was when things got complicated. The wheels were rolling, but no one had told me that the brakes were released on a steep hill and those wheels were spinning out of control quickly. My husband of three years had finally stated his opinion that he was going to be staying here in Canada while I went off to a different country for school, for two years. On top of having to go alone, I had felt almost betrayed that my husband felt that moving with me was more of a burden than it would be to be away from me for two years. As painful as it was to hear, everything was already moving and thousands of dollars gone, there was no turning back now, I had to go alone.

It was now late August, I stood at the security checkpoint at YEG, and this was the last I would be able to hug and kiss my husband for 730 days, and even more hours. In tears, I had to pry myself from his arms in order to make that eighteen hour flight that was going to change my life forever. On that long flight, all I could think about was how much better it would be if my husband was sitting next to me and we both would be headed to one of the most amazing cities in the world to an apartment we would call home for the next 24 months, alas it was just me.

Since I was forced to go alone, there was no need for an apartment in the city close to businesses for work, so I chose an off campus apartment building that unfortunately was closer to another branch of the school and not the one I was going into. However, it was cheaper and I got a transit pass from the school so I was not complaining about the travel times.

Now, this was becoming terrifying. I was a woman, alone in a different country, in a city with a population of over thirty-million where my country was just over thirty-million, attending the renowned school of Meiji University. I was confident that I could learn the material with ease, yet it was the fear of not being able to talk to many people that was what concerned me. 

I had unpacked my suitcases and a box that I had shipped out before me in the small 125-square-foot dorm room where I was also alone, after unpacking I decided to go out and wander the city, which was a big mistake. Having found myself in the centre of Shibuya square, I was completely lost. All of the Japanese I knew and was able to read, left my brain in the sheer panic that I was feeling. It did not help that I was in a timezone fifteen-hours ahead of my original timezone, so I was exhausted as well. Panic started to set in, I had no idea where I was, nor where I was supposed to go back to.

Hyperventilating, my panicked gaze scanned over the streets in hopes to find someone who looked like they knew how to speak English, yet I saw none; or my anxiety ridden brain registered none. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face; how? I knew no one and was in the city for mere hours. The face that stood out to me was one that I saw everyday in my life in Canada and at that moment, I was thankful I had to get a new phone and did not have my old phone with me just then, because this familiar face I saw, was my background. 

Suddenly, my mouth spoke before my brain could figure out what it was doing. 

“Ano, sumimasen.” I darted up to this person and was screaming at myself to run way and never look back, that didn’t happen. Stopping a good few feet from this person, as strangers do, I had bowed to them from respect, which is probably why the responded the way they did.

Looking away from the phone in their hands and removing the face mask from their mouth, I was one-hundred-percent sure now I had approached who I thought I did. 

“Onegaishimasu. Hikitsudzuki go shien itadaki, Arigatou gozaimasu.” The bowed to me in respect as well. 

This was when my logical brain shut off causing me a lifetime of following through with a lie. 

“Support? Is it an honour to give directions?” I spoke in English accidentally, yet it seemed they understood a couple of words. I laughed nervously at the idea that it could be honorific to give directions.

The man stood from his bow, just as confused as I was at his thanks. ‘Directions,’ ‘honour,’ and my nervous laugh got him to nervously laugh as well, linking his long fingers together out of embarrassment. 

“Uh, no. Sorry.” His accent was very strong, it was cute as he tried to speak English to me. It was welcoming in this scary city where people were always out for themselves. “I thought you know me from music.” I did, but that’s not the reaction I gave. This poor man was just trying to get somewhere, supposedly on a day off of a job I knew ate up most of their time, but here I was bugging him, rudely at that by speaking English.

My eyes widened, hopefully not too apparent that it was just an act.

“Do you do music or just listen a lot?” I tried to speak in as simple English as possible, while it was known that the Japanese learned English in school, learned second languages were usually lost if not used. 

This normal acting man seemed to relax at that, fresh people who knew nothing of him was refreshing. 

“I sing. I am in a group called “Hey! Say! JUMP. You don’t know?” Inside I screamed, outside I shook my head hesitantly in pretending to think about it. “Ii desu yo.” He sighed in relieve, I was panicking at the thought of him ever finding out I lied just then. “Direction you say?” Bringing this short interaction back to the original reason why I ran up to him.

I jumped, having already forgot why I approached a stranger in the street; the fear of being lost had my voice shaking, or was it that I was talking to someone I idolized so much? 

“Yes, I just got here, I cannot find my way back to the dormitories for Meiji University. Kowai yo.” I ended, it was the truth, I had no idea where I was going nor where I was going. 

This got his ears to perk up in hearing Meiji, it obviously struck a memory in him though it had been years since he had been there, but I knew none of that in his eyes.

“Meiji daigaku? Sono omae wa ikuzou ka?” I gave him a quick nod and an ‘un’ in return. “Ikimashita yo.” He said with a look of reminisce in his eyes. 

“You did?” I asked excited, he would definitely know how to get back if that were the case. “Would you be able to tell me how to get back? I will be living on campus and mistakingly left without knowing where I was.” All I had expected was verbal directions, this was when my proficiency test would come in handy, knowing how to follow verbal instructions. I had not expected what he was to say next.

Pulling his sleeve back to look at the smart watch on his wrist, he then looked back to me as he pulled me aside from the crowds.

“Tsureteitte.” This was not happening, it couldn’t have been. There had to be hidden cameras somewhere or I was still asleep on that plane. “I can take you.” 

My heart dropped, I felt a blush hoping it wasn’t visible. I looked around, no one else seemed to be able to help so I guess I had no choice but to accept. “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.” I bowed to this man whom had no idea that I was virtually in love with. “You aren’t too busy Mr. Musicman?” I asked jokingly, going off of the only information he had given me. 

We began to walk in the direction he had come from, with just that information alone I knew I was going in the wrong direction the entire time. He gave a chuckle at the nickname. 

“Inoo Kei. Watakushi no namae wa.” He was so formal all of a sudden, perhaps it was because he decided to walk with me. “I go home, done work for today.” With such simple words, this man got my heart to skip a beat. It was all so surreal that I, a random Canadian girl, was walking with a Japanese Idol that I was completely in love with, metaphorically of course. 

I gave a few awkward nods, listening a little too intently that I forgot what he was saying, his voice was clearly that of an idol and was intoxicating. 

“Aa, Inoo Kei san wa? Watashi no namae wa Rukuufuu Andi. Andi wa ii desu yo.” I glanced over at him, all of the online encyclopedia all said how tall he was, but it was even more of a reality to see it in person; as an average North American, I was surprised he was taller than me. “It is a short name, but my full name is too long to say.” I gave him a small head bow, in another silent ‘yoroshiku.’ 

We walked in silence for almost a block, I had no idea what to say. Looking over at me he asked a school related question.

“Omae wa Senkou ka?” Ah yes, I may have been able to get him to tell me more about himself which was a good thing. 

“Ano, Shinri-gaku. Atama wa omoshiroi.” I chuckled nervously again, I knew what he took so psychology may not have been interesting to him. Glancing over at him again briefly, the crowded streets did not allow for eye contact while walking like they did in Canada. “What was yours? You did say you were once a student? Graduated?” I had hoped the succession of question would not give away that I knew what he took and when he graduated.

Those beautiful lips parted in an ‘Aa,’ one of slight surprise. 

“Etto, architecture.” He said it slowly, almost not knowing which English syllable went where. He pointed up to the skyscrapers around us. “Buildings.” I had assured him that architecture was the correct word to use. “Ni sen juu san nen. Finish.” He directed us to take a left, a small restaurant was looking familiar. 

Following, I took that left and looked back over my shoulder as that turn made him fall behind a couple of steps. 

“You graduated in 2013? That’s so exciting!” I slowed for him to catch up again. Not knowing where I was going, it seemed weird that I was in the lead. “Is it rude to ask how old you were when you finished?” The Japanese were very personal people, but I also knew it was very difficult to tell how old they were given how well they aged. Not to mention an idol who had access to beauty products that seemed to stop their aging process, making them seem much younger than they really were. 

A casual conversation with a foreign stranger, it did not seem to bother him that I had asked such a personal question, or perhaps it was because he knew he was not all that old. 

“Ni juu sai deshita.” He gave a small smile, it was obvious he knew what my reaction was going to be.

Doing the quick calculations in my head, I had to stop walking.

“You’re my age?!” I shouted out accidentally. “You look 23 now.” I said, hoping it would be a compliment. It was exactly the reaction he was expecting and I gave it to him. “Now I feel old telling you I’m in Meiji.” It was a genuine pout, I was always self-conscious about being an older student in university. 

We took another turn, this time to the right across a street. I saw the building a few blocks down the road that if remembered correctly, was only a couple of building over from the apartment that I was assigned. Offering a hand for a high-five, which I found odd, my Canadian brain subconscious hit that hand. Almost as soon as our hands hit, with furrowed brows I looked to him. 

“Why did we high-five?” A genuine question, I had no idea why he wanted a celebratory gesture. 

“Older it not, you are going.” That beautiful smile I loved so much was directed at me, something I never thought would happen in a million years. “Be proud of yourself.” I was always told to do so, but it was hard being surrounded by younger students at all times. Yet this one person actually made me feel proud to be a student even if I was older than the majority. It got a smile out of me as well, I could not even respond, there was no way to respond. A smile was all I had to offer.

It was not long after that where we finally had reached my dorm again, it was much closer than I thought but would never have found it without this surprise meeting of an unexpected person. 

“Saa, Inoo sama —“ I bowed respectfully after turning to him. “Hontou Arigatou onegaishimashita.” It was ni like that I was very thankful to him for taking time out of his day to help me, especially when he could have just told me where to go. 

Waving it off, he gave a quick smile before pulling out his cell phone.

“Iie Andi chan.” Oh no, he was very informal. “If you ever would like a tour of any of the buildings, call me.” He was giving me his number?! ‘Maybe, on break or shuumatsu. I introduce you to tomodatchi?” His friends? Meaning the rest of the group? Yeah, this had to be a dream.

“Tomodatchi? Ano, Hey! Say!... Mo nani wa?” I knew it was what he meant, but why? I was a stranger that just happened to go to the same school he did, hundreds of thousands have done the same since he had graduated. 

“JUMP. Hey! Say! JUMP.” He finished. “Omoshirokatta desu. Sorera ga suki naru.” 

“Onegaishimasu.” I pulled out and handed him my phone, taking his as we added ourselves to the others phone. With the number I gave him he sent a quick ‘hello’ mail just to make sure it was correct. I had no other number in my phone since I had just picked it up at the airport. “Saa, jaa matta, Inoo sama?” I had no real clue if I would see him again, but this exchange of numbers was almost a foolproof way of saying yes, I will see him again. 

He nodded, tucking his phone away again. 

“Yes.” That strong Japanese accent made it cute with the exaggerated English he gave. “Gambare de.” He waved off, looking at his wrist again before darting down the street. 

Dumbstruck, I was in a trance as I returned to my dormitory room. Upon arrival I had locked the door and collapsed on the twin sized bed heavily. I wasn’t breathing, did not know for how long, once I did I sat up quickly. Reaching for my Canadian phone and looking at the background, making sure it was who I had just talked with, it was. 

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

Push! For My Heart

Push! For My Heart

Chapter IV:

For his entire life, even before he could remember even those times that his mind would block out to ignore the pain, he was severely abused at home and this secret was so burdening to him that he thought that even telling his best friend would be burden him out of wanting to have anything to do with him anymore; this was painfully his mentality for such a young child, everything was always his fault. One would think that keeping something so important a secret for so long was unhealthy, however when it came to Aiya’s situation, there was nothing more terrifying than someone finding out that his body was covered in scars, burns, and bruises almost daily. If the authorities were to ever find out, there may be a chance that he would never be heard of again, that was exactly how bad his mother was. Sometimes the deepest of secrets were hid in plain sight with hints and mannerisms pointing to all of the facts, yet no one thought to look. The hardest to look passed is those who will always make sure others are happy; those who wear a smile all the time, hide the darkest of pains.

After Aiya had hung up on him so suddenly, Maruki had lied back in bed as still as could be, his pillow covering his baby-like face from the light that flooded in from the large window. He could not recall when he fell asleep, but whenever it happened the position he fell asleep in was painful to wake from. Being only in his boxers, Maruki crawled finally under his down filled blanket and curled up in a ball, facing his cell phone just in case Aiya was to call again. Since he had just woke up his eyes were still heavy with sleep, he rolled onto his stomach to burying his face in the soft mattress. He was stressed about Aiya, the strange peers at school, first day back at school, it was all too much to take in. Not but a few minutes later, he fell right back asleep, his phone in hand still. Dreaming of nonsenses Maruki was tossing and turning, almost acting out his dreams. The ringing of his phone was coinciding with his dreams then it stopped momentarily, after a few moments, the ringing commenced again. Groaning heavily, Maruki blinked slowly before jolting awake, stammering for his phone he finally found it on the floor, thankfully answering it on the last ring before the voicemail would answer it.

“Ai-Aiya?” Maruki accidentally shouted into the phone without even realizing it, he was just panicked from the sound of his ringtone waking him suddenly. Maruki fell silent and surprised to hear sobbing from the other end of the line. 
“Aiya are you all right?” He couldn’t remember the last time he heard Aiya cry, let alone sobbing so heavily that he could hardly breathe. Hearing Aiya’s pain filled cries, it made his heart sink to the floor.

Aiya couldn’t stop himself from sobbing uncontrollably even though it was painful to even breath normally, Maruki knew right away that something was very wrong and Aiya needed immediate attention. Aiya sniffed loudly, him wiping his blocked and bloody nose could be heard over the phone. 


“Maruki.” Aiya managed to whimper softly his voice filled with winces of pain and defeat, his voice was slurred and muffled. “She hurt me again.” A small wince followed his pained comment, his former sweet voice quivered in fear and pain, it was raspy from crying for who knows how long, it was weak and sounded as if he even just gave up. This was something that Maruki never thought he would hear, and it pained him to know that someone was capable of causing anyone to feel like Aiya was right now.

Maruki sat up quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, he definitely pulled some muscles in his legs and back. He threw the blankets off of him as quickly as he could, already darting for his street clothes to go get Aiya from his house.

“AGAIN?!” He shouted loudly into the microphone. On Aiya’s side of the line the connection broke lightly, his speaker was not great with louder sounds and even crackled or completely cutout when the decibel was too high. “This has happened more than once? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you ok? Have you called the police?” So many questions, so little time to answer them all. 

Hiding in the pantry with the phone, Aiya was terrified his mother never hit him like that before. Instead of calling the police, where he wouldn’t feel safe talking, Aiya called Maruki who was the only person he could be open with; except for this secret he hid for so many years. For now Aiya didn’t need Maruki to say anything, just knowing he was there was good enough for him.

“Please help me.” He whimpered softly, he sounded like a hurt puppy. He spoke softly, not wanting to wake his mother who was off in the other room in fear she would be more upset knowing that he called someone telling them what was going on in the quarters of their home. There was nothing left in him, he it was almost as if he gave up and accepted that this was his fate, perhaps the pain would take him from that same pain in death. The fear of his mother was stronger than the fear of death, death almost seemed welcoming at this point. Before Maruki could say anything in return, a wince of pain exited his lungs sharply, he was almost sure that there was something broken.

Maruki had no idea what he could do to help, this was the first he had ever heard of this sort of emergency and had no idea how to deal with it. Pulling his phone from his face he saw that it was just before eleven in the evening meaning both his parents would be asleep at that point. Putting Aiya on speakerphone, he started to get dressed in silence.
“I’m coming over, Aiya, I’m going to come get you.” There were so may emotions that he was feeling, he could not even discern which emotions were apparent in his hushed voice. Grabbing a black graphic T and some dark washed jeans, he got dressed as fast as he could while still trying to be quiet, his small slightly chubby torso exposed in the low light of the cellphone screen. “Are you going to be okay until I get there, Ai?” Maruki’s voice was filled with concern. He didn’t want anything more to happen to his friend when there was nothing he could do to help. Maruki’s breath matched Aiya’s as he curled tightly into the corner of the small half metre by half meter pantry. 

Letting out shaking breaths and gasps of what Maruki could only assume were from bruised or broken ribs or pain elsewhere. There was nothing that Aiya could say to reassure Maruki, he was hurt, defeated, broken by the one person he should have full trust in; worst of all, now his friend knew the secret that he was hiding and would most likely judge him for staying around in silence for so long. He tried to speak, but all of the emotions of what had happened that night were all flooding back all of a sudden making his voice get caught in his throat. Aiya let out a slow and soft sigh as he tried to relax himself. He went to go straighten his arm to reach up to push the folding door open when he remembered it had hurt as well, a small winced passed his lips. He took a small breath and whispered softly in order not to wake his mother. 
“I’m think okay now Maru-chan. I’m just going to go back to bed, all right?” With pain still laced in his whimpers, this was something that he could not just forget.

Maruki was not going to let this go as easily as Aiya was. Even if it were just for the night, Maruki knew he had to get Aiya out of that house and possibly to a hospital. He threw his hand down on his bed sternly, he was serious about what he was about to say.

“Ai, you are going to pack a bag, and you are going to come and stay at my house until your mother smartens up.” He paused for a few moments, Aiya was silent and Maruki needed to know that he understood. “Okay, Ai?” Maruki was not going to allow someone who is supposed to be the sworn protector of their children treat his friend like this. Aiya was always his top priority and in a situation like this, it was even more so the case. At this point even not knowing all of the facts, he was tempted to call the police as soon as he got off of the phone with Aiya. 

Aiya was silent for a few moments it worried Maruki slightly, until small rustling could be heard, it sounded suspicious to Maruki. He listened carefully to what was going on. He couldn’t quite figure it out. His voice was hushed even lower as he made his way out of his door and down the hall to the stairs. It was a short few steps to the door from the bottom of the stairs, once he was at the bottom, he knew he would be safe from waking his parents.

“Ai, what are you doing?” With worry, Maruki tip-toed stiffly, hesitant in grabbing his shoes as he approached the foyer. He was   So worried that he was unaware that he had stopped breathing to listen more carefully to the speaker of his phone.

Aiya removed his palm from the folding pantry door and dropped it over his pained stomach, only to questionably tilt his head towards the phone against his ear. 

“What you told me to do, Maruki! Pack!” Maruki was very intelligent, but he sure had his stupid moments sometimes. It didn’t matter what it was, over time Aiya would always do what Maruki told him to do. Maruki’s decision was usually the right one after all. He continued quietly opening the door while saying no more to Maruki, with his hurt arm holding the phone to his ear because stretching out caused a shooting pain the radiate through his arm. His stronger arm helped him crawl out of the cupboard and helped push him to his feet as quietly as he could.

Maruki closed the front door as quietly as he could, not even thinking of locking it. As soon as he was in the dark and quiet residential streets, he started a full run the few blocks it was to Aiya’s house. It was moments like this that Maruki was glad he was on the track team in elementary school and planned to for his middle school years.

Aiya began packing as soon as he got to his room, dodging all of the creaks in the floors of the hallway; clean clothes, toiletries, school uniform, everything that could last him up to a week away from home while still attending school. Aiya remained on the phone with Maruki the whole time, hearing his now rushed breathing as be began to run down the streets. Talking or not, Aiya felt safer with Maruki on the line with him. Having changed from his pajamas, into something street worthy, Aiya was finally ready to leave his house. 

“Maru, I’m ready now.” Aiya seemed scared to hang up it showed in his hushed voice, but it was necessary if he wanted to leave. He zipped up his bag and slipped on his school shoes rather than his street shoes, for those were in the living room where his mother was.

With a huff in his voice, Maruki jumped from street to curb. The grass much quieter to run on this late at night.

“I’m almost there, meet me outside.” Without another word, Maruki hung up quickly which allowed him to sprint faster.

Aiya clicked the answer button on the cordless phone and tossed it on his bed haphazardly, there was no need to care if it were charged since he was technically running away. Silently rushing to the door as he dodged those creaks again, Aiya knew he would regret doing this, but it was for the better. Being careful of his arm, Aiya opened the door and snuck out without any notice. He ran as far as his pained ribs would allow, which was not very far. Down the street he could see Maruki’s running to him, which prompted him to stop; seeing his friend in person, he knew he was safe. 

The slapping of Maruki’s sneakers could be heard down the empty streets as he returned to the sidewalk. Heavier slaps echoed off of the bungalow homes as he came to a heavy stop in front of Aiya. While struggling to catch his breath, an expression of pain and worry painted his baby-like features, soon the anger set in when those dark bruises were visible in the low light of the streets. A lump in his throat made it that much harder to catch his breath, upon seeing those marks all over Aiya’s face as well as the dried blood from his nose, he was lost for words.

As soon as Maruki was in front of him, as much as it hurt everything, Aiya burst out in a wailing sob. He dropped his bag heavily to the concrete of the decrepit sidewalk, dropping to his knees soon after while folding his arm across his chest. There was a fear that he felt and an immense cloud that hung over his head for so long, seeing the one person that now knew of this cloud, it seemed relieving yet frightening. Maruki dropped to his knees heavily as he dropped to Aiya’s aid. A small hand reached out to Aiya’s chin, gently raising it to get a closer look at the surface wounds of his delicate features. Aiya closed his eyes gently, tears falling from the corners of his tulip buds, he felt too much shame to look at Maruki in a state like this.

“I’m so sorry, Maruki.” His weak, honeyed voice quivered through his persistent sobs. He was a victim of child abuse and at this moment he was severely beaten, yet all he could think was all of the problems that he would now cause his only friend. 

Maruki’s heart broke to Aiya’s words, he held a secret for so long and yet all he could do was apologize to him. Not knowing where anything hurt, Maruki stretched out his arms gently, inviting Aiya to hug him if he needed. At this, Aiya did not hesitate to embrace his friend’s welcoming comfort. Diving into his arms, he completely ignored the shooting pain in his chest, it all seemed to disappear as soon as he knew that Maruki being there was really real and not in his imagination.

“You have nothing to be sorry about Aiya.” His own voice quivered as it was forced over that large bump in his throat, it was very difficult to hold back his own tears. “I’m the one who should be sorry for not ever noticing something wasn’t right.” Having collapsed to the cold concrete, Maruki became a safely cushion for his delicate friend on top of him.

This embrace did not last long for while they were still outside of his house, they were not safe quite yet. It was Aiya who initiated them to leave, while they were a decent distance from his living room, the window still overlooked the street. Puffy, espresso coloured eyes peered to Maruki as he pushed himself from the concrete; it seemed painful to blink, a pain he had not noticed until now. 

Grabbing Aiya’s bag and slinging it over one shoulder as he stood, Maruki then offered a hand down to Aiya who was kneeling on his knees pondering how he would stand without causing himself anymore pain. Diving at his friend may have already caused more damage to his ribs, but at this moment it was hard to tell. He dropped his gaze to the ground, one arm slung across his chest, the other dropped to his side weakly.

“I can’t get up.” He whimpered softly. 

This prompt Maruki to drop to one knee at Aiya’s side, draping the stronger arm across his shoulder. With a shaky knee, he stood straight up while pulling Aiya to his feet. Silently and carefully, Maruki assisted Aiya all the way back to his house, soft sniffles drifting into his ear as Aiya tried to calm himself down still. 

Arriving back at Maruki’s a while later, he was surprised to see that the kitchen light was on. Sneaking into the door quietly, he gently sat Aiya down on the bench as he closed and locked the door behind him. Aiya leaned down, trying to untie his shoes, but to no avail could he even reach his feet. A look of surprise washed over Maruki’s features when he turned and saw Aiya struggling. Diving to sit on his heels, he rested Aiya’s heel in his lap and cupped his ankle in his small hand and untied his shoes slowly for him.

“I’ve got these, Aiya.” He whispered softly as he slipped Aiya’s shoes off quietly, placing them in the shoe rack underneath him just as quietly. Though the light was on, he tried to not draw attention to them in hopes to sneak back into his bedroom unnoticed. 

Just then his mother peeked her head around the corner from the kitchen, ready to scold her son for sneaking out of the house. She then was quite surprised to see Aiya who looked to be crying. The majority of his facial wounds were on the opposite cheek, so she did not even notice he was hurt. 


“Hey, mom, Aiya is having some troubles right now so I said he can stay here until things are sorted out.” Looking at Aiya, Maruki silently told him to cover his eyes with his hair to hide a forming bruise on his eye; the last thing he wanted was his mother asking question, at least for now until they decided what to do. On the inside, with clenching teeth, Maruki was angry to see those marks on Aiya’s face. 

“Tch… Is that all right, mom?” With a distinct sound of anger in his voice, Maruki pleaded to his mother.

Maruki snatched Aiya’s bag from the floor rather forcefully as he stood quickly, stepping in front of Aiya protectively from his mother’s curious eyes. She parted her lips to say something, but all she did was nod. Her son may have only been eleven, but seeing tears over his friend’s face and the anger in his voice, she knew there was something he was not telling her. Though he was not telling her, it was very mature of him to even go through the trouble to sneak out and help a friend in need. Taking her nod and silence as a good enough response, Maruki helped Aiya up gently, guiding him to his room at the top of the stairs. He was silent for a bit, guiding Aiya in and closing the door behind him, he quickly began getting everything ready for Aiya to sleep. Pulling out his spare futon mattress from under his bed, resetting his alarm clock, to get up for school the next day, and remaking his own bed. The whole time Aiya stood silently by the door, trying not to move. 

Maruki stopped once he was finished, staring silently down at the futon for a moment, letting out a small sigh. Maruki spun on his heels to face Aiya, he grabbed Aiya’s hand, the one that was not draped across his chest and pulled him to the side of his own bed. Without saying anything, Maruki’s gaze dropped to his hands which grabbed the hem of Aiya’s shirt and began lifting slowly and gently. Aiya tightened his arm around his chest and dropped the other hand quickly grabbing for his shirt to hold it down as a blush formed on his cheeks.

“What, what are you doing?” His voice shook, he looked down to the floor in embarrassment as his fingers grasped to his shirt tightly.

Looking up to his taller friend with tender eyes, Maruki’s sad lips parted slightly before he spoke, his hand dropping to his side sadly.

“Looking to see what she has done to you.” His soft eyes locked to Aiya’s, looking for any expression telling him he was not allowed. Aiya’s defeated expression showed that he was okay with it. As he returned both hands to the hem of Aiya’s shirt, Aiya no longer protesting his friends actions and cooperated his movements with Maruki’s. Pulling his shirt up slowly exposing his chubby, porcelain tummy, he carefully removed the obvious injured arm last, holding Aiya’s wrist gently as he guided it out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. Preventing the fabric from touching Aiya’s delicate face as the bruises became darker in such a short period of time, he curled his fingers in Aiya’s shirt collar pulling it up carefully, flipping it inside out as he pulled it up and over Aiya’s head. 

Instantly, tears welled in his almond eyes upon seeing Aiya cower away towards the door, there was an obvious trauma that came over him making him feel he needed to be covered and hide away. His entire torso covered in deep black and purple bruises, fresh scratches that were lined with dried blood, and old scars that were both linear and circular in shape. Not only was it his chest and stomach, but as Maruki silently commanded Aiya to turn by giving a gentle push against his shoulder, he had discovered that the entirety of his back as well was covered in similar scars. 

“Are there any anywhere else?” Maruki’s voice trembled in fear that this was not all of it. Somehow he felt he already knew that answer, if there were wounds on his torso, there was most likely some on his lower half as well.

Aiya looked away, tears streaming down his cheeks again, he nodded slightly. He swallowed hard, not even knowing how to process his friend now knowing what went on in his home. Maruki dropped his gaze to Aiya’s gym pants, fearing as to how bad it was there as well. 

Holding his pained arm in his palm across his chest, Aiya looked away, squeezing his tulip eyes shut hard, welled tears dripping from his lashes to the floor, pulling a faint pink with them as they pulled some of the dried blood. While it was embarrassing and awkward having his male friend undress him, he knew there was a reason to it. With those tears, Maruki grabbed for his pants, pushing them down gently in case there were fresh wounds there as well. He was careful in not removing his undergarments as he pulled them slowly to his ankles. Kneeling down on one knee, he grasped to Aiya’s foot, pulling it through the pant leg gently, making sure he would not lose balance. The second leg followed before he looked up, seeing a large amount of scars covering his thin thighs. Most of those scars had crossed over each other, showing their age as some had gone over others many times. To his dismay, there were fresh wounds on Aiya’s thighs, ones even he was unaware he had. Deep gashes over his thighs with dried blood as far down as his ankles were visibly deep and susceptible to infection. In one wound that stretched across the side of one of his thighs, there lay a few large pieces of glass, he had no idea how Aiya could not feel that. Pulling himself closer to the wound, he looked up to Aiya, still seeing those tears dropping to the floor.

“This may hurt, Ai.” Gripping around the largest piece of glass carefully, he pulled it from Aiya’s flesh swiftly, as it came out, so did a small stream of blood. Aiya clenched his eyes tight, wincing as he felt the sharp object reactivating his nerves painfully.

After removing the surprising amount of glass that was embedded in the soft flesh of Aiya’s porcelain thigh, Maruki quickly left to the bathroom and came back with a roll of gauze, a gauze pad, and some antibiotic ointment. Dropping to his knees again, he sat his butt on his heels as he placed a large glob of ointment on a clean and sterile pad, pulled a long length of the gauze before he began wrapping it lightly around the larger spread of wounds that seemed to be isolated to one leg. His small fingers were careful I not touching the now open wounds, it had taken an entire roll of gauze that spread from his hip to his knee, but all of the wounds were now covered. Standing again, Maruki looked up to his friend, facing him sternly. He quickly raised a hand to Aiya’s face, only to gently brush his bangs behind his ear so he could see the bruises. Aiya was startled for a moment enough for him to cower in his shoulders, his eyes closing tight until he realized what Maruki was doing. This lead Maruki to leave the room again to grab a moist towel from the bathroom, returning, he wiped underneath his nose to clean up the dried blood. The small yet dark bruises had grown to cover his cheeks and eyes darkly, the tiny scratches were no longer bleeding. There was no way that these were things a mother should give a child. Maruki’s stern eyes softened.

“Why would you let your mother harm your pretty face like that Ai?” To Maruki it was a stupid question, but upon seeing the bruises on Aiya’s gentle features again, he didn’t know what else to ask. With gentle grace, Maruki cupped his hand over Aiya’s cheek gently. He knew that Aiya loved his mother, and she loved him. It was all the lingering pain of the loss of his father and even though he was eleven-years-old, he knew what death was and what it could do to someone who loved that person.

Aiya looked away from Maruki, it was not that he allowed his mother to hit him it was just that she started drinking heavily that night. Her excessive drinking and losing control she was a prisoner to her own feelings again, this time she was yelling at him about his father. Though Aiya never met his father at an age where he could remember him, it seemed to be the reason to his mother’s excessive drinking. After the first few beatings and raised voice, Aiya began looking at photos of his father before he died. His father was only in his mid-twenties when he passed away, and only being twelve-years-old, it was clear to see that he growing up to look much like his father did. 

Maruki gentle slid a hand to Aiya’s shoulder from his cheek, there lay an irregular shaped bruise on it trailed down his neck as well, one that wrapped around his neck. Upon further inspection, most of his upper body had some stage of bruise on him. Maruki pulled Aiya to his bed, sitting him down gently as he pulled his duvet over Aiya’s half naked body as he noticed he began to shiver. 

“Does it still hurt?” Maruki asked, reaching to cradle Aiya’s bent elbow in his palm, taking some of the strain off of Aiya having to hold his composure for so long while hurting everywhere. With soft, lidded eyes Aiya stared at Maruki’s hand on his flesh, shaking his head slightly but noticeably, he was obviously lying to try to make Maruki feel better. He was concerned for Aiya, this had obviously happened before, so he knew he there was a great probability it could happen again. “Can you move your arm?” He asked softly, Aiya nodded silently. Raising Aiya’s arm by his shoulder, the duvet falling off his shoulder, Maruki felt around Aiya’s chest gently with his fingers, almost every gentle touch caused Aiya to wince. There was almost a guarantee that those were not only bruises but broken bones as well. This was something that he had no idea how to deal with, he was only eleven years old, the only thing he could think of was telling his mother in the morning.

Maruki shifted to pull his clothes off again, stripping to his boxers again it was his room so he held no shame in it with a friend over. He then shifted up towards the head of the bed to give Aiya more room to lie down closest to the wall on his bed, he was too damaged to force him to sleep on the floor. Maruki gave Aiya’s shoulder a gentle tug to silently command him to lie down, which Aiya followed obediently. Maruki held the duvet up for Aiya allowing him to pull himself up at his own speed to get comfortable in Maruki’s soft bed. After he was sufficiently settled in, Maruki had got up to shut the light off and then joined him on his own side of the bed, it was a queen-sized mattress so there was plenty of room for the both of them. As soon as the lights were out when the knot in his throat became unbearable to deal with.

“I forgive my mother, Maruki. It wasn't her fault.” Aiya whimpered softly trying to hold back tears now that Maruki could not see him, he hoped his friend would forgive him for forgiving his mother who committed an incident such as this on a consistent basis. Aiya stared off in the darkness, no longer being able to see until his eyes adjusted. Maruki sighed softly, not knowing how to respond to something like that. Aiya had held it secret for so many years, it was clear that he was always adamant about forgiving her every time. Briefly looking in Aiya’s direction blindly, he looked to the black ceiling again and scooted over closer to Aiya. Stretching his arm out, Maruki invited Aiya to come and sleep in his arms for the night. Feeling the soft touch of Maruki’s fingers rubbing against his shoulder, he promptly moved over and cuddled into Maruki’s arm, resting his head on Maruki’s shoulder. He was hurt, emotionally and physically and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep at the moment. Shifting from his back to his side, Maruki wrapped an arm around Aiya, cradling him tightly in a warm hug while they lied there quietly. 

“Remember the first of your birthdays we celebrated as friends?” Aiya asked sleepily, it had only been a couple of minutes and he was already falling asleep in Maruki’s warm embrace. Maruki nodded against Aiya’s thick black hair. “It’s just like that night. You were just as caring then too.” Aiya sniffled lightly, tears sliding down his cheek to Maruki’s bare shoulder. 

 After a nightmarish first day of middle school and not wanting to go back in the morning, Maruki knew that he should try sleeping as well. They were in his home and Aiya was safe in his arms. His mother could not lay a hand on him, at least tonight.

“Good night Aiya.” Maruki whispered softly, his full lips against Aiya’s thick hair; feeling him already breathing heavier, Aiya was already asleep. It was hard to believe that someone as sweet as Aiya could ever be treated like he had been all these years and hide it so well. As Maruki lay there holding Aiya as close as possible, he thought deeply. He tried to think of any time that Aiya may have hinted at that he was in pain or in danger, yet he could not think of any. Perhaps this had gone on so long with constant apologies that Aiya felt that there was nothing wrong with what he was going through. At some point in the depth of thought and memories, Maruki had also fallen asleep.

A New Light: The Prologues

Prologue I: Ruka, Akira, Kyohei, Keisuke

Heavy pellets of water pelted the boy’s soft cheek; it felt cold with every drop that hit. The boy stirred awake with a low grumble, coming to, he realized he leaned against a loud, rusted industrial air conditioning unit. Stumbling to his feet, he dragged himself to the small wall of where he was located to determine his location. The boy had found himself standing on the edge of an industrial warehouse located on the bay of the city. Wearing nothing but jeans and a black hoodie in the torrential downpour and dripping wet coal black locks over his snake-like eyes, the boy escaped the roof of the building and sought shelter in the dead of night.

Kilometers away, in the red-light district of the city, sat three men in a bar, sipping on drinks. The bar was quiet, not another soul was to be seen other that the three men and the bartender. The man dressed absurdly had rented out the entire underground bar for himself and his cohorts. Each man drank his own beverage of choice, free of charge, for it came with the price of renting. The man in an olive, metallic blazer that was not accompanied by a white shirt, drank whiskey on the rocks. The sharply dressed man in a pure black, three-piece suit sipped on hot, premium sake.  The third man whom was dressed in a beige frayed suit and an off-white shirt, both of which appeared to be purchased at a thrift store, had a half filled champagne flute dangling between his fingers.

The six thousand square-foot bar was dimly lit and well arranged. Black lounge chair around an “S” curved glass table, mahogany bar tables accompanied by a flower and a candle for a centerpiece, bamboo grass dividers between booths and VIP sectors, and chandeliers hanging from above, finished with red velvet curtains covering small walls.

Glancing over at the man in beige as he slumped further into his chair while he slipped in and out of consciousness, the sharply dressed man couldn’t help but chuckle at him after a sip of sake.

“Ne, Akira, I believe we over did it this time.” The sharply dressed man commented as he directed his gaze to the absurdly dressed man. Within the next moment, the man in the beige suit had dropped his chin to his chest. 

Shooting a glance over at the man in beige, Akira had shaken his head in protest at his right hand man’s comment.

“Kyohei, you're over reacting.” Akira stared at him for a moment before passing his gaze over to Kyohei. “Keisuke is fine.” At that moment, Keisuke had lost all consciousness and dropped the half full champagne flute on the thinly carpeted floor. The thin flute had shattered on impact, spilling all of the pale orange liquid everywhere, leaving a wet stain. 

Loudly placing his heavy glass down on the glass table, Akira let out a heavy sigh at Keisuke.

“Okay, perhaps you are correct, Kyohei.” Shaking his head in disappointment at their accompaniment, Akira turned to address the bartender. “It appears my friend has made a mess of your lovely floor, barkeep.” Giving him a silent nod in return, the bartender had addressed the problem. 

Kyohei sat forward in his chair, placing his small sake glass on the tray it arrived on, he gave Keisuke a hard look, noticing that on either side of his collar had been stained with the crimson fluid of his own body. Slowly bringing his gaze to Akira, Kyohei bit his lip in frustration.

“Are you sure you only took two pints?” Akira and Kyohei had promised Keisuke that they would never take more than a third of his life source, it ensured that he would still be able to function and walk home with them if needed. Akira had looked away towards the ceiling, dancing his eyes around silently. “No wonder he passed out so quickly. You know he needs more than half to make it through the night.” Kyohei, the right hand man was thoroughly upset with his first in command,

“How much did you take, Akira?” Kyohei questioned with a hint of frustration.

Looking away still, grabbing for his glass, Akira seemed to ignore his right hand man for a moment. Taking a sip of chilled whiskey to wet his throat, Akira had finally responded seconds later.

“I took four.” He quickly continued. “But for good reason!” He pointed to Kyohei with his three lower most fingers, to hold his whiskey that was still in hand.

“It had been over a week since we had last fed off of him, and I had almost killed someone today in temptation.” He quickly gave his explanation.

Kyohei dropped his head for a moment in shame of his first man, letting out a sigh. He leaned his elbows on his knees and spoke softly to contain his anger. 

“Its called will-power, Akira. Which appears that you do not have.” He looked over at Keisuke solemnly, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Since you had already slipped up today, did you want to go out and have some fun tonight?” Kyohei may have been the voice of reason, however he had a mischievous side to him as well.

At the moment of hearing Kyohei’s suggestion, Akira’s ears perked up like a puppy’s.
“I would love that, Kyohei.” Akira had quickly calmed to a relaxed state. “Are we going to have Keisuke sent home? He would only slow us down if we took him with us.” Akira gulped back the remainder of his alcohol quickly, loudly placing the glass down on the table again.

“This alcohol is doing nothing for me as is.” Akira sighed loudly.

Kyohei groaned at that.

“Alcohol doesn’t have an effect us anymore, you know that already.” He then picked up the sake pitcher and guzzled the remainder of the bottle. “We’ll have Keisuke sent back in the limo, he had caused us enough trouble for this barkeep as it seems.” Packing up their friend, Keisuke, Kyohei had left with him on his shoulder as he followed Akira out of the quiet bar into the noisy downtown streets. As soon as the two of them had left, the bouncer at the door which was at street level had opened the underground bar to the public. There appeared to be a lineup down the street of well-dressed patrons, wanting to get access to the bar, this was rare for Tokyo.

Prologue II: Daichi, Ryota

~ “… In other news, another young female had been found dead this morning, it has been reported from the coroner that she had succumb to the same injuries as the others. Police say that there are still no leads to any suspects yet and send out a warning for any young girls, to never travel alone until the perpetrator is found.” A woman on the television set took a ‘for the camera’ moment of silence before continuing. “Police are working day and night to find any suspect or suspects in the murders of eight women this month alone. More on this story as it develops.” The television broadcast fades out as the volume was lowered.

Quickly turning from his fetal position of which was nestled in the corner of the large sectional, the youthful black haired boy looked up to who disturbed his morning current events check.

“What?” He squealed out, removing his nails from between his teeth. “Ryota, I was watching that. I need to know if my mother is okay.” The youthful boy whined, propping himself up on the cushion, facing the tall, slender one; a pout on his small, puffy lips.

Placing the remote on the breakfast bar of the kitchen, Ryota adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder and gave a quick look to his pouting roommate. 

“Daichi, your mothers going to be fine, she doesn’t even live here.” Ryota, the long, sharp-faced boy sighed loudly. “While these attacks are saddening, you do realize it is ten past nine, right?” This got Daichi frantic. Ryota watched Daichi dash down the hall as he approached the entrance grabbing his shoes from the rack.

Daichi looked to the clock that hung over the kitchen sink, followed by jumping over the back of the couch, scrambling down the hall to his room.

“Shoot! I’m going to be late!” Quick banging could be heard from the back of the apartment as Daichi scrambled to find his uniform and necessities. Ryota looked down the darkened hall, hearing Daichi’s frustrated groans. Giving a dumbstruck look Ryota slowly grabbed his keys off of the key peg on the wall; locking his eyes on the hallway, he unlocked the latch and stepped out of the apartment backwards, mouthing a silent ‘okay’ before leaving. 

Daichi shoved his mobile and wallet into his pants pockets and snatched the headphones off of his desk and darted out of the room. He threw his shoes on carelessly, snatched his keys off of the same peg board and darted out of the apartment, locking it quickly behind him.

“I hope I’m not late.” Daichi mumbled to himself as he ran down the stairs, slipping every other step. If he was late for his nine-thirty shift, this would be the third time, warranting a written warning or termination. “Sorry, ‘scuse me!” Daichi majestically tan through the heavy crowd on the streets, needing to go at least half-a-dozen city blocks to his department retail job. While he was newer, and despite his frequent tardiness, Daichi was set for a promotion soon which would result in a wage increase. Days like these in the capital, one would take anything they could get as the cost of rentals and mortgages was steadily increasing.

Off in the opposite direction, Ryota was at a leisurely pace, he had a longer distance to walk, however he didn’t leave late to his employment. The boy who was given the nickname ‘giraffe’ by his students, towered over the crowd at an uncommon one-hundred and seventy-eight centimeters. On the sixth floor of a large skyscraper, was a quaint dance studio, this is where Ryota taught three days a week to students of all ages. His specialty was tap dancing, however he had a plethora of genres he’s mastered over a ten year span of instructing at this studio. While the work was part time, Ryota had earned a high enough wage with his seniority that he didn’t require working any more than that, this game him more time to practice a blossoming passion of percussions.

Nine-twenty-seven, three minutes before his shift started, Daichi had burst in the sliding glass doors, covered in a shimmering layer of sweat  and a heaving chest.

“Huu~” Daichi groaned loudly as he crawled his way to the employee lounge to place his belonging for the day. He clocked in with the fingerprint scanner, dried the sweat from his face and moved to the floor where he would remain for his eight hour shift as a clothes salesman. 

Prologue  III: Mikiya, Maika

“Mikiya! My lord man, why does it always take you so long?” The wavy-haired man groaned loudly. “Hell is going to freeze over before you move your ass.” He slumped down in his chair, almost slipping off. As he slowly lowered to his knees, the wavy-haired man collapsed on the floor. 

Mikiya took his nose out of the pages in his hands, he glared over the paper at his fellow peer. 

“You know, this would go a lot faster if you just got off your ass,” Mikiya emphasized the reiteration of his peer’s comment. “Maika, you do know this is a two man decision.” He dropped his gaze back to the pages, flicking his wrists to straighten them out.

He let out a loud, frustrated groan.

“It’s bloody food!” He shot his head up from the bowing position. “I don’t think the viewers will really care what it is, as long as we get a video out this week.” While it was not an ideal form of income, for it could cease at any moment, Mikiya and Maika ran a video domain channel as well as other various social media pages, with a surprisingly large amount of followers on all platforms. 

With just these few platforms, as well as sponsorship peppered around here and there, Mikiya and Maika made a decent living. Able to pay their bi-weekly mortgage, fully own two vehicles, and save in their own personal bank accounts, one would think they’re living the good life. As childhood friends and co-owners to a small production company they started  to be able to copy-write and own their own content legally, these two young men could appear as an old married couple from how much they bickered on the daily. 

“You may not care, they may not care, but I do.” Mikiya snapped at Maika in a low grumble. “I want the spiciest food you could find in Tokyo, and in copious amounts. I don’t want to seem like we’re taking the easy path.” Mikiya slapped the papers on the table, looking to Maika triumphantly.

With his chestnut coloured veil over his eyes, Maika pushed himself to sit on his heels, a pleasant expression on his face.

“My lord, you’ve finally decided?” Shifting quickly, Maika stepped his feet flat to the floor and pushed himself upright. “That took forever!” Maika pestered. 

“I was ready to take a nap.” He teased.

Mikiya gave Maika a lazy glare, his smooth features popping as soft expression washed over his face. He stretched out his arm, a single finger pointing to the other end of the house.

“Make yourself useful and go get the lights from the office.” He half pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, enhancing his disgruntled expression.

Maika let out a long groan, slumping his feet heavily and he trudged down the hall to fetch the tripod lighting.

“Yes master.” He grumbled under his breath, of which Mikiya heard, sending a forced huff from his nose. While they bickered like this all the time, they loved each other as much as childhood friends could, it was just playful banter amongst roommates, they were never anything serious.

Prologue IV: Kazuko, Jun

Out behind the counter, behind the face-masking cloth in the doorway, a very effeminate man wearing a white apron stood at the sink, washing the couple of dozen heavy platers that had just arrived from the bussing station. Over in the front of the house, the very youthful, tall man shifted around, preparing alcoholic and virgin cocktails for the patrons scattered out through the restaurant. This was an older, yet more well known restaurant, the original owners, the grandparents of the current owners had opened the quaint, now modern restaurant in the middle of the twentieth century.

Everyone loved to come to this fusion designed restaurant, the bartender was always a delight to look at and order a myriad of beverages from, just so they could get him to their table. Yet, the main attraction was the simple busboy. While he had years of home cooking experience, in his full time job, he was only allowed to touch the plates if they were dirty. The head chef and designated manager would not allow him on line, or on the floor as a server. To them, he was only there for the staff to look at, and no one else. 

From the back behind the cloth curtain there could be metal against metal clanking quietly, the bartender usually tuned it out because it was something he heard seven days a week and there was nothing more annoying than distant clanking. While they worked two different sections of the restaurant, these two were relatively close friends, their acquaintances ran back all the way to junior high school, but their friendship didn’t start until adulthood.

In the soapy dish water, the man’s fingers still started to prune, even in the cheap latex gloves that he had to buy himself. Grasping around in the murky water, the effeminate man searched for the last few utensils he knew were in there. Suddenly and efferently, the man’s hand banged against the deep steel basin-like sink. As quickly as he could, the effeminate slithered his hand out of the cheap glove and into the grasps of his other hand. In the sink, it didn’t take long for the water to be stained a vibrant red. 

“Ah! Takashi!” His hand dripped profusely and a pool of blood formed in his palm. “What is one of your knives doing in the industrial sink!” He shouted rather gruffly. His teardrop eyes narrowed into dark skits as he glared in the direction of the kitchen.

Poking his head from around the corner, a sly grin formed at the corner of his lip. As he returned to the gas burners finishing a customers order. Shouting over his shoulder, the chef spoke with a chuckle in his tone.

“Sorry Kazuko, must’ve been in there with the other stuff.” It was obvious that he deliberately placed it there, for what reason, Kazuko had no idea. 

Scoffing as he shook his hand, Kazuko let the pool of blood pour to the black nonslip May at his feet. This giving him a better look at the gash that stretched across his palm, a festering gash that came from the chef knives that most knew were sharper than a razor.

“I told you not to call me that.” Kazuko hated when his superiors used his first name, for he could not use theirs. “I’m leaving.” Kazuko growled to the chef as he ripped the off-white apron from his waist, which he threw on the floor. 

This came to no surprise to the culprit, however the general manager kicked the floor as he rolled his way to the office door. Leaning out of the doorway with a puzzled look on his face.

“Kazuko, your shift isn’t over. You’re not leaving.” He stood, pushing the office chair back with his knees.

Grabbing a clean bar towel from the alcohol bar, wrapping his hand in it, he put pressure in the wound.

“Your psycho chef put his knife in the sink.” He rose his hand, the blood seeping through the white towel as proof. “I’m going to the hospital. And possibly the police after. That psychopath has done enough.” Holding pressure on his palm, Kazuko walked backwards through the door glaring at the general manager as he tried his best to not get blood on any other part of the restaurant.

Tossing his hands up in a silent ‘what the fu...’ the general manager was baffled that one of his employees just walked out on him. Leaning over the bar table, the bartender held his chin in his palms, lazily looking over to the manager.

“It’s not the first time you know.” He spoke in a cool yet lazy tone. “That chef is a tad on the odd side. But—“ he pushed away from the table, letting out a tiny grunt as he did. “I’ll clean up after, I’m always done here first anyhow. I’ll take over Kazuko’s for today.” A sweet smile peered on his thin lips, bearing his perfectly white teeth. With an annoyed wave in the bartenders direction, the sighed heavily and walked away, his actions seemed to approve for him to take over Kazuko’s position for today.

Dropping his feature from his smooth face, he looked away with a stone expression covering his flawless face.  He pulled the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth, making his thin lip even thinner. While appearing sweet on the outside, he felt an ever lingering anger in him. The mind numbing tasks that came with barkeep were par with mediocre and mundane. He was paid well, even over minimum wage, but his tips were where he got his livings from. His life was significantly well off for a single man in the capital city, yet somehow he always felt there was a void in him that was filled with hatred.

Kazuko did not need to wait long in an emergency room, the severity of his wound as well as the location were significant enough for him to see a doctor almost right away. While a slit across his palm was not all too severe, the nature of the wound and location, it was highly susceptible to infection. After getting it cleaned up and analyzed, it was found that Kazuko would require at least fifteen stitches stretching from his index finger, down to  some on his wrist. Somehow, the wound ended up over twenty centimeters long and from point to point, covered most creases in his palm, making it unusable for a significant length of time until the stitches had fully dissolved. 

Kazuko made his was out of the hospital, bandaged all over his wrist making his digits immobile and stuff. To add to the stiffness, the local anesthetics that had numbed his flesh while receiving the stitches still has not worn off, making his entire hand and up to his elbow feel weird. Cautiously protecting his hand from the public bumping into it, he made his way down the crowded streets back this his employment. While it was quite the distance, he felt like wasting time for the incompetent business he worked for, since the injury happened at his employment, he had already intended on filing for workers compensation. 

Getting to the restaurant again, Kazuko slowly crept the back door open, having now been after hours. The chef had already left, as always, leaving his tasks for the dishwasher. Sneaking in, he could hear clanking further in the kitchen. Peeking his head around the corner, he saw the bartender elbow deep in the sink. 

“Jun, you’re helping?” He looked rather confused, while they’ve been friends for a while now, his acts of kindness still surprised him. 

Jun looked up from the sink, then throwing the last dish in the rack before sliding it into the sanitizing machine.. 

“No, I’m saving your ass from getting fired.” He looked back to the now empty sink as he pulled the stopper from the drain. “You know he’s not happy right?” Jun peered through his blue-black bangs, followed by turning to face his co-worker, almost his subordinate.

He threw his hand up , showing Jun what that chef had done to him. Kazuko leaned his shoulder against the wall, resting his injured arm on his hip tossing his soft black hair behind his ear.

“You think that I would just walk out?” Kazuko looked around the dimly lit restaurant, the lights outside reflecting heavily on the laminate floor, there was absolutely no one else around except those two. “I got sixteen stitches. I don’t even know what he did to have it cut me so bad.” Kazuko sighed loudly. 

Stepping aside, his dripping fingers rested in front of him, not wanting to dirty his dress pants or silk dress shirt. He pointed into the sink silently telling Kazuko to look into the sink. Pushing himself from the wall, Kazuko came over and looked into the deep sink, a grim look spreading over his face. Jun saw that Kazuko saw what it was that the psycho chef had done.

“Figured you’d want to know before I took it off.” Jun exclaimed flatly. In the bottom of the sink, bolted to the flat surface with galvanized pipe strapping lay the chef’s sharpest blade, upright and at an angle. “This wasn’t an easy task, bugger was committed, I’ll give him that.” Jun had grabbed the screwdriver that he had fetched before Kazuko arrived back at the restaurant, of which he used with still damp hands, working on the screws in the bottom of the sink. While the screws were not in tightly, Jun figured he’d still be careful of the blade, he didn’t want to end up like Kazuko.

Stepping aside and moving to the front half of the restaurant, Kazuko looked to the side windows, of which he could see the setting sun disappearing behind a building. 

“Well, whatever the bugger did it for, I cannot thank you enough for covering for me.” He looked to his bandaged hand, some blood starting to deep through the gauze. It was a deep wound, had slipped all the way passed the fatty tissue, but what could have caused a man to do such a thing to someone like Kazuko? Kazuko was a good man, always went to work everyday and showing up early, he was fairly quiet at work, waitresses were the only ones that really spoke to him and while it was a kind gesture, it was always about work. Out of work, Kazuko never had really don’t anything outlandish, besides getting some warnings for jay-walking and accidentally bumping into an elderly man while running and looking at his phone, Kazuko was a good man. “Do you think I’ll be fired? I did leave angry and without clocking out.” Kazuko looked back to the sink, Jun had just pulled the knife from the sink while tossing the galvanized strapping into the garbage next to the sink. He looked back to Kazuko but said nothing as he left to he went to return the kitchen to the line.

Kazuko sighed, as his gaze fell to the dark floor. Jun came up from around the corner, his jacket in hand.

“You and I both know he legally can’t fire you.” Jun said in a slightly entertained tone. “While I think it would be interesting if he tried, a business like this can’t afford to hire lawyers for wrongful firing.” He pay Kazuko on the shoulder and gestured that they could go, everything was finished for the night. Somehow, talking about a psychotic and childish man got Jun giddy, was it the fact that the chef of over twenty years could be fired and sued, or the fact that Kazuko was deeply injured? Even he did not know.

Kazuko and Jun exited through the backdoor again, locking it behind them. The numbing of the localized anesthesia was wearing off and a sharp shooting pain began to throb around his stitches.

“Thanks again Jun, can I repay you in anyway?” Kazuko offered politely. “Buy you a beer or something?” Kazuko grabbed his hand in the other, adding slight pressure hoping to relieve the pain some.

Jun looked to the watch on his wrist, giving a small sigh in protest. 

“No, sorry Kazuko.” He declined politely. “I have some matters to deal with tonight. Maybe some time. You do owe me now.” Jun teased, however was quite serious. While they were friends, jun always kept close ties on those he did something for. Perhaps it was some unknown trauma of his past or just common sense, but Jun hardly trusted anyone. He kept everyone on a small leash because he could not trust that some would try to take advantage of his assets, or something worse.

Prologue V: Maruki, Aiya 

It has been something close to twenty-five years that these two lifelong friends had first met, and some of four years living together, yet somehow they both had found themselves missing the other after a long day at work. 

Coming in at dinner from his nine-hour shift, a very beautiful man had come home, heavily stomping his way into the foyer. Slipping his feet from the solid-black shoes and lazily tossing them beside the shoe rack, the man placed his keys in the designated basket that sat atop the shoe rack and hung the dripping umbrella off the side. The apartment was dark, it was nine in the evening and the lights had not been turned on. The man ran both his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh. 

“Still at work I see.” He spoke to know one in particular. His voice was a tone of soft femininity and seemed to resemble a shy giggle at all times. Slowly slumping to his room to change, the man began to remove his clothing as he walked down the hallway. His room was always at the deepest part of the home, it made him feel connected to the heart of his home when he was in his room. Slipping his boring, flat coloured smock off his back and placing it over his shoulders, the man worked at his belt as he pushing his half open door with his shoulder. The the muffled metal clanking together was quiet, he pulled at the buckle, slipping it from each hook quickly. Normally he waited to get behind closed doors to undress, but his roommate was not home therefore had nothing to be ashamed of. His long, thin fingers hooked his belt on its assigned hanger and tossed his smock to the floor, messing his jet black hair as he did. Unsnapping the button and lowering the zipper to its farthest, he left his room and headed to the kitchen, his black jeans holding to his feminine hips loosely, the exposed his lowest most abdominal muscle, which while it was not defined, it was flat and taut. 

Twirling on his toes his dark hair sweeping across his brow, the man pushed his heel into the floor and stopped himself from spinning further by holding the fridge handle. He pulled the door open, looking for a bottle of refreshing green tea. His Sakura bud eyes found the last bottle in the door, while balancing on one leg, his other stretched behind him, he grasped it by the cap. The lock locked, his roommate was home and he was indecently dressed. Not knowing what to do, the beautiful man just stood there in just the light of the refrigerator.

Shuffling in the foyer, the other roommate had prepared himself for him. He slipped his feet from his shoes, stiffly bending down to put them on the rack, a second quiet shuffle indicated he had also put the other’s shoes away as well. Stepping up on the main floor, the second roommate reacted in a quick second, his eye catching a light in the corner, he turned, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He flicked the hallway light on, seeing his feminine roommate standing at the fridge, letting all the cold of it out. 

“Jesus Christ, Aiya!” The roommate shouted with a quiver in his voice, his body still pumped with adrenaline. “You scared the shit out of me.” His currently higher registered voice was sweet, but filled with the fight-or-flight.

Aiya has parted his lips, letting out a long ‘uh.’ His slender fingers had flicked the fridge door shut leaving him standing with nothing to cover his porcelain chest from the white light of the hallway. 

“I uh, didn’t know when you’d be home, Maruki.” Suddenly aware he was shirtless and jeans carelessly open, he crossed both arms around his body. One over his flat chest, of which contained no defined muscles, and the other covering his genital area. “I also just got home.” He said softly, a nervous quiver choking up in his throat.

Taking a long deep breath, Maruki turned and headed to his bedroom, completely ignoring Aiya and his shameful position. 

“Yeah, my on-call shift was cancelled so they let me go home. Apparently Amy was assigned it a few hours ago, guess they wanted her to get more training in.” He called over his shoulder before the click of the door shutting in place was heard. Aiya shifted in his place, but he did not move from the kitchen. Moments later, Maruki came out, dressed in grey sweats and an oversized, long sleeved t-shirt. He looked briefly to Aiya, a quick chuckle escaping his throat as he tossed one of his oversized tees over the counter right at Aiya. “I’ve known you for how long Ai and you still get embarrassed from the way you look?” He walked around the breakfast island, standing behind Aiya. 

“I know you’ve had it tough, but there’s no need to be embarrassed.” Maruki said in a reassuring soft tone. Staying silent for a moment, he looked behind him, the one-and-a-half walls of windows were free of their curtains, maybe that’s what got Aiya embarrassed. “Go, change. You’ll be fine.” Maruki pat the small of Aiya’s back and sent him on his way. Aiya scuttled away silently, holding his pants making sure they wouldn’t fall and clutching the tee to his bare chest. 

Aiya quickly ran to his room and changed into his nightwear, Maruki’s long t-shirt and red plaid pants. He kept his gaze from Maruki’s, still a little embarrassed.

“Uh, how was work?” He asked shyly, his hesitation caught Maruki’s attention. “It was a long day for you.” While Aiya worked nine-hours a day, five days a week at one of his jobs and unset hours at the other, Maruki always had longer and harder days than he did. Shuffling to the large couch, Aiya plopped himself down in the corner of the sectional and pulled his knees to his chest. 

If not for the colour contrast, Maruki would most likely not know Aiya was there in the still-dark living room. Bringing Aiya’s tea with him, Maruki moved from the kitchen island to the couch, sitting himself next to Aiya, bringing his feet under his butt and comfortably folding his knees in front of him. 

“It was all right. No real emergencies today.” He exclaimed, reaching an arm to Aiya’s shoulder, pulling him in to lean on his shoulder. “I had a man come in, had to give him 16 stitches in his hand. It was a nasty cut, but a clean one so it’ll heal fine.” Holding Aiya’s opposite shoulder, it was easy to see just how much smaller Maruki was compared to him. Aiya shifted, making him rest more comfortably on Maruki’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure if he did it himself or not, I just know it was in a straight line across his palm.” Maruki pondered, resting his chin atop Aiya’s smooth hair. “It’s not our place to ask questions if the patients don’t want to answer.” Aiya had seemed to relax some, prompting Maruki to place his hand on his head, running his fingers through his silky smooth hair.

Aiya let out an almost sad sigh. His eyes closed softly as he finally relaxed completely in Maruki’s embrace.

“Your job is so much more interesting than mine are.” He said softly, no real need to speak loudly for he was already basically in Maruki’s ear. “My excitement today? I had tossed some ready-meals. One was over two weeks old. I don’t know how we missed it for so long.” Aiya’s Sakura eyes slid shut, the hypnotizing hair pets made him sleepy.

Maruki gave a quiet, airy chuckle. Amused at Aiya’s uneventful life. Patting his shoulder twice, Maruki silently indicated he was getting up.

“I’d rather you have uneventful days, Aiya.” He said with a little grunt in his voice as he pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t think I could lose you again.” It’s been well over ten years since the day Aiya was forced from his childhood home by his alcoholic mother, it left Maruki wondering for 5 years if Aiya was even alive still. There was no knowing what his mother was capable of while intoxicated and it killed him everyday not knowing where to even start looking for his childhood friend. Maruki made his way back to the kitchen, flicking on the track lights to their dimmest setting. “Besides, I don’t think you’d like my job, you see gross stuff everyday.” He beamed a beautiful smile over the Aiya, giving a little head tilt as well. 

“Would you like some popcorn? I’ve got the next few days off and would like to binge watch some movies.” Aiya nodded, giving a little corner-lip smile. Maruki was always so kind to him. 

He pushed himself to his feet, joining Maruki in the kitchen.

“If we’re both eating it, I might as well help you make it.” Aiya exclaimed softly, more confidence in his sweet voice now. Maruki gave a single nod, no need to protest. He walked to the pantry and pulled the small door open, looking up to the shelf with the popcorn. He gave off a small sigh as he stood on his tiptoes, reaching up as hard as he could, he still couldn’t reach. Aiya, noticing his struggles came to his aid, placing a feminine hand on Maruki’s back, holding it as he reached over his head and grabbed the whole box, pulling it down and holding it so Maruki could take out a bag. He gave Maruki a full smile, his sweet, rosebud lips pulling into a charming smile. “I’ll never get over how cute it is that you’re so short.” Aiya mocked playfully. He pat the top of Maruki’s head and put the popcorn box on a lower shelf, just as mockingly as his coy play.

Playfully pushing Aiya away, Maruki silently prepared the bag of popcorn and transferred it to a bowl. Having already returned to the Aiya had pulled the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch over his legs. As Maruki sat down again, this time a little ways from Aiya, Aiya had shifted in his seat, resting his elbow on the back of the couch.

“While I would love to watch movies and wind down, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Aiya was always looking over his friends, it didn’t matter who they were or how far away from him they were, his friends were his life. “You just had a fourteen-hour shift after all.” Aiya may have been a simple clerk at a corner convenience store and had terribly inconsistent hours, but Maruki had been guaranteed over the regular full-time hours of forty-hours a week.

Maruki leaned forward and grabbed the remote off of the marble coffee table, switching on the television and leaning his back deeply into the soft cushion. 

“I’m used to it by now.” Maruki’s soft tone seemed to smile on its own, and it made a smile form slightly in the corner of Aiya’s lips. “Besides, I don’t get to see you all that often anymore, since when I work the early shifts it always seems that you are forced to work at the bar, which I still don’t like by the way.” Having worked very late hours and having to walk home alone, it always made Maruki worried for Aiya. Since Maruki had started working at the hospital at the university of Tokyo, he was hardly home and it was hard to stay in close touch with his friends. Days of like the few he had in a row this week were very rare and utilized efficiently. Maruki remained silent for a few moments before shifting his coffee coloured eyes in Aiya’s direction, a smile spread over Aiya’s lips. Maruki’s slick, coal-coloured hair that framed his eyes had swept over his evenly dark brows as he pat the cushion next to him, beaconing Aiya to scooch over next to him.

Aiya pulled the blanket with him as he slid against the cushion closer to Maruki, pulling the blanket over Maruki’s lap as well. He gave a small chuckle, prompting Maruki to look to him with curiosity.

“I just find it funny,” Aiya started as he cuddled in close. “People must think we have a ‘suspicious relationship’ at times.” This got Maruki’s almond shaped eyes to widen.

Quickly, Maruki became defensive. “They do not!” His sweet voice squeaked loudly. Aiya didn’t respond, he only leaned in, resting his cheek on Maruki’s shoulder as he looked to the television in silence.

Prologue VI: Shourin 

“Please.” The sharply dressed gentleman stood in the streets holding an umbrella under his arm as he handed pamphlets to passerby’s, one that would take some anyway.

“I would like to offer you—“ the person walked right passed. A long and quiet sigh left the gentlemen’s lips, while he looked to the stack of pamphlets still in his basket.

“I’m sorry, could I have a moment of your time?” He followed this pedestrian for a few steps before he got the hint that they did not want to talk to him.

“Excuse me m’am.” He tiptoed to a woman who was looking at the sandwich board he was standing with. “Are you interested in our services? If so we are open seven-days a week from seven in the evening until three in the morning.” His suave and classy tone was deep and classy, it suited his attire. With flowing dark brown hair framing his face with deep waves, his dark brown eyes softened as he grabbed for the woman’s hand, slipping one of the pamphlets in between her fingers gently. “I will be there tonight from nine until midnight if you would honor me in visiting.” With a charming and almost smug smile, he got the young woman to blush, he finally got a customer. “I look forward to your visit, mon Cheri.”

That was one pamphlet down, over one hundred to go before he could get out of the cold and rain and get home.