[BOOK] ~ VERBRECHEN

[Comrade Texidor]

VERBRECHEN DER GÖTTER

or

CRIMES OF THE GODS

A tale of myth, romance and doubt

By Monsignor Gabriel

 

[Comrade Texidor]

Preface: The mystery of empire

"Empires wax and wane; states cleave asunder and coalesce."

C.H. Brewitt-Taylor

Hearts of darkness feel naught for the light; creeping and dead and

wandering, it merely exists. These hearts be veils to the reality we all must feel, and will feel as soon as the darkness takes us. For whence it does, the light will be most noticeable. Indeed, enlightenment will be the last thing you experience as you slowly creep away to your death. Thus is the wonder such things have: one never knows what will be found when our hands plunge into the gooeyness of them. But this is foolish, you figure. Hearts of light have nothing to hide; hearts of darkness have everything to and fathoms more. Thus what makes them survive over the other. To know it is death; to not know it is death as well.

Hence is the nature of our miserable condition; 'tis the reason why we all survive to feel saddened. A beacon of light basking in a sea of dark, we are the only testament to the persistence of memory. This memory, this instinctual intelligence, this birthed knowledge we all have, is what makes us who we are. You are what you know, and what one knows is always limited. After all, it is the big secret: the world is because that's how you know it, what you understand it to be, where you have observed it. We are born with this ability, to observe. The point to life is to know that there are many observations we can make, and that to take and apply only one or a few is a terrible, terrible mistake. Ignorance may be bliss, but it is false bliss. A good example: an otherwise factor-less child observes his abusive parent shot at. The blood falls all over, and the attacker is ousted out just as quickly by the authorities. shall the child develop? Please don't answer right away, for there is no singular answer: they range from the child becoming a killer as well, driven by the anger felt toward the parent and inspiringly showcased by his killer to the child becoming deathly afraid of others and of guns and ensealing himself mentally and trying desperately to avoid any kind of confrontation, with anyone.

So when an empire or some other grand, powerful gubernatorial body arises in the world, what shall one think of it? Anarchists will abhor and denigrate it; expansionists will support it lovingly; merchantilers will just be happy they can sell more things. It could have a loving king or a twisted dictator or a rowdy senate or a stuck-up nobility. Princesses could walk across palace squares, soldiers cavalcade down cobbled roads, secretaries run up to the printing room, or Counts stroll through pomander vineyards. And truly we couldn't know. We live not in such nations, you might think. But none need to, for, all in all, it is set to perish.

Queens experience the guillotine, generals say hello to guns for the last time, officials take bribes, and the elite are run out of their estates. The masses these people rule over, however, are not to blame. It is like if a person does not exercise properly: who is to blame, the blood vessel, the pressure, the stress, the demon of sloth... or the person who succumbed to them all? Plainly, the governments failed to adapt. And the same problem lies in ourselves: we are inflexible, solid beings. Our souls are encased within a mass that the universe has power over, and this is something difficult, quite difficult, to change.

But... in all truth, not something impossible. The human being places too much confidence, too much burden, too much magnetism around him that soon it catches things in orbit and focuses on them excessively. Water, when poured into a container, it becomes the container. It takes the shape of said container. To be air is to be weak; to be solid, stubborn. Water can flow, and it can crash.

The homeless beg for a roof and for food and for clothes and given nothing for fear of wasting it. The same politicians are voted into office, never changing a thing (meet the new boss/same as the old boss).

Thus is the romance of the world: the myth of the self, and the truth of doubt. Dear reader, doubt yourself, doubt others. But fail not in trusting them. The very first beings on the Planet Earth were gelatenous microbes. Water passes in and out freely through their bodices, but they can keep out harmful liquids.

As silly as it may sound, be like an amoeba.

Sincerely,
The author  

[Comrade Texidor]

I. MOB

It is summer in Tokyo. Summer nights, spent on the streets, grow alight, a sort of cherry-blossom blooming season of the kind man has made. Electricity is in the air. You can see it in the people: hair on end, a shocking pink, an ocean blue, a blood-red. You can feel the battery acid running through their veins. They've come out to feel the summer air rust their souls once more. You can hear them creak as they pass the cruiser. The antenna some of them wear receive the signals, and they are recorded for later usage. One of them stares at him: he flinches and quickens his pace. They don't notice the carbon monoxide. This is their air. Their lungs are as black as the night sky. And when they look up, they see only the moon. It reflects off of their cars. They rush past, wondering where to go next without having gone to the last place they were thinking of. They smile and laugh and go and sing, and they don't stop for anyone. A fist flies through the air. It connects with a face, a barely audible thump mixing up the screeching of the night.

Koi bunts his cigarrette and opens his door. One silky black sole touches the ground, Kai steps out, already out and running to stop the quarrel. Koi closes his door in time to notice a sudden sprinting. He follows the movement and sounds amidst the crowd. Face bloodied, hair all a mess, one of the fighters gives flight. Koi moves slowly; the boy flees across the street, by the front of his patrol car. As the boy passes him by, Koi's hand grips his throat, his left foot entangled in the other's right one. The boy goes flying through the air before crashing unto the floor with another gut-twisting thud.

"Did you get him?" called Kai.
"Yeah. He's down" said Koi.
"Cuff him!"
"He's out cold"
"I need help with the other one!"
"Is he hurt?"
"His belly's all over the floor; I think he's dead"
There was no yelling. "Really, now? I think you should poke him..."
"Be quiet!" Kai was waving his baton in the air.
"Hey, you never know!" Koi raised his hands up, laughing.
"Just call for backup... I think there's another rally in town"
"Don't these punks ever give up?"
"I got a theory about that!"
"Oh, really? I'm not interested at all"
"I'm just sayin': ever since Zaibatsu raised the price of hairspray..."
Koi's radio crackled to life. "Backup, backup, this is K-32"
A woman spoke back at him, "K-32, this is Central"
"I've got an isolated disturbance down near..."
"We know. Units are already on site. Another riot has broken out"
"Is this widespread?"
"Very"
"What happened to the fireworks? I haven't heard anything all night"

Koi's eardrums felt a tug. Like giant bubbles of compressed helium poking through the smog and skyscraper mist, the first bombs of the summer went off. Judging from how low they sounded, they were from across town, where the shopping malls were at. The temples of the businesses were under siege. Typical of the dissenters, the attack was unplanned and sudden. No reports of correspondence, no movement in the schools, no spike in graffitti or shoplifting, like it was at the beginning of the first year. This is what the government calls "defective product". They can't control the kids who don't like their outfit retailers, the same people they made rich because they made them "beautiful", running their schools so hypocritically, so stringently, so much like the old government.

"Thank all that is good my wife wasn't working today" said Kai.
"Don't worry; they're just upset, is all" said Koi, walking to the trunk.
"Shikigawa... they're bombing us every damned day"
"Bombing, yes... bombing shopping malls, coffee shops, fast foods.."
"But still bombing!"
"Zaibatsu shouldn't push them around so much"
"Zaibatsu doesn't push them in any way the old government didn't"
"When a company is called 'Rebel Kids'..."
"You don't expect them to put a curfew, yes, yes, whatever"
"It's politics, Koi"
"It's stupid, Kai"

The radio crackled the confirmation. They opened the trunk and strapped on the riot shields. Koi grabbed the big tear gas launcher and a canister. He cracked the former open, and popped the latter in. They heard another explosion. This one was much, much closer. Immediately, the street cleared, silently panicking kids rushing past them. They headed up and right along the street. They saw it: the mob was suddenly in their faces. They creeped along at a squid's pace: their tentacles of firsties reached out at the cars and cracked their windshields, breaking the window shops and sometimes setting them alight, not noticing the prey ahead of it.

Koi decided to wait until they headed up behind them. The straglers could not be picked up, he knew enough. The mob needed to be stopped. Behind it, sirens summoned a storm of clacking shields, driving it up the street. Koi crouched, putting the canister launcher at the ready on his shoulder. 50 yards, he counted, from him to the crowd. Perfect, just perfect... the launcher gave a huge lurch of struggle, firing forward the canister. Like firecrackers in the Chinese New Year, tiny little snaps called to the crowd. It was the canister, dividing into a million little containers that blinded and veiled the crowd in a thick cloud of gas. People began to give panicked cries. Koi laughed.

"That'll teach them" he said.

This was a pleasure. One man stood up to a mob and managed to grip in fear and confusion and education and terrible, terrible authority. It scared everyone present. The mob didn't stop... rather, it suddenly rushed forward, a demonic wave of man's Earth. And, unlike the sea, it shows no mercy. Koi's lungs take short gasp of air. He noticed the group ambling out of the cloud of gas, and proceeded to take the second canister ready for fire. This time, he aimed it at the ground near the group. With a resounding pang, the canister careened straight into the group, crashing against ribcages and arms and baseball bats. It erupted mid-flight, giving anyone near it another face-full of gas. Some it overwhelmed and crippled; others, it enraged. A squinty-eyed protester, wielding a fire axe, went straight for the two enforcers. Koi called Kai over the roar of the crowd, and the latter raised the plexiglass riot shield over their heads and, muscles braced, halted the descending axe. Stuck in the shield, Kai wrenched the axe from the protesters hands, and then kicked him in the stomach.

"I think it's time we chickened on out of here" said Koi.
"I concur" said Kai.

Their boots hitched on the cement as they gave sudden turns in the opposite direction of the crowd. Kai signaled at a side alley, and the two retreated behind a dumpster. While safer than the open street, it was still circuiting random rioters.

"Here comes another one!" said Koi, taking the shield from Kai.
"Alright, alright... oh, jeez" said Kai, a laughing man coming up the alley.
Armed with a tire iron, the man gave several whacks at the shield. "Yeah!"
"Back off, I'm warning you!" said Koi, a baton in his hand.
"Die, pig, die!" cried the man.
"Seriously, buddy, you're annoying him!" said Kai.
"Back off!" Koi raised himself, the shield pushing the man off balance.
"Told you so..." said Kai. Koi jabbed the baton into the man's nose.
"I... said... back... the-hell... off!" said Koi, each time jabbing at the man's face. The man eventually stopped laughing, arms over his head in a daze.
"Jeez, you didn't have to kill him" said Kai, a smile on his face.
"That jerk was trying to kill us!" said Koi, baton pointed at the man.
"But now you hurt his feelings"
"Oh, please... I'm not in the mood for jokes"
"How about you look out?"
"What for?"
"That! Turn around!"
"Yeah... sure..."

Koi turned around. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the dark point of a blunt object being shoved into the side of his face.  

[Comrade Texidor]

II. WORK

ARBEIT MACHT FREI
"WORK MAKES ONE FREE"

From a sign posted under the entrances to several Nazi concentration camps

Koi passes under the iron-grate arch that leads into the parking lot, and then hoists himself over the guard booth's car bar. He looks inside and sees the guard asleep. He laughs. The Kanagawa Prefecture Municipality is on call at this time of the day. As a matter of fact, it always is. At the very least, there's at least a dozen officers working on the inside, opening up, closing down, filing and taking out records, booking, releasing, sighing, gulping, swallowing, screaming, sleeping, crying, bleeding, bleeding, bleeding, dying. This cold Monday morning it's quiet, very quiet. He walks up to the heavy wooden doors and pushes them inside to find the air conditioner off and the station warm and cozy and humid. The secretary doesn't look up; she throws his baton and badge on the desk and returns to typing his name into the puncher and then going back to her magazine. Koi manages a smile before walking down the hall to her left to his desk's room. He stops.

"I oughta throw you in jail for insubordination, Koitsumi" a voice says.
"Pleasure to be back, Sergeant" Koi says, smiling and turning around.

The Sergeant is walking down from the Administration level to the secretary's right. He's a big, muscley man, an inspiration/threat to Koi and to anyone else who works under him. His eyes are rather small, taken by the rest of his face. It's all a left-over; from years of wanting to be a bodybuilder, a sumo, and anyone big you can think of and that fights off a lot of people. It would have been useful to have been born this big, apparently. He wasn't born with that jagged chin, you know.

"I thought I told you to take the week off" says Sarge.
"Got a mouth to feed, Sarge" says Koi.
"Your broccoli mother still stiffer than a nun's virginity?"
"Last time I checked... which was when you got me this free internship"
"You should have gone to work at McCrap's with all the other losers"
"This fit my interests a little bit better... and it didn't smell like corn syrup"
"This is a serious job, Koitsumi"
"Well aware of that, Sarge"
"Really? Is that why you got Kakashi killed? Kai was a good, good man"
"It wasn't my fault"
"How dare you! You enraged that crowd, you aggravated the situation..."
"I learned from the best" Koitsumi talked over him.
"... God knows how many Geneva laws you violated..."
"The kind Zaibatsu never obey"
"Be quiet!" The Sarge roared. "Now, you listen and listen good, you little..."
"No, you listen: I did what had to be done. I suggest you leave it"
"I should have you executed for treason!"
"Keep threatening me; I think it's working"
"I'm demoting you"
"I'm in shock and awe; if you will excuse me, I have paper-work to file"

The former Lieutenant and now-First Private Koitsumi began to walk away from the Sarge before one of his big, thick, thuggish hands grabbed at his shoulder. He gave him a push, whirling him back around. Koitsumi opened his mouth again to retaliate, but saw that the Sarge's expression had softened. It was demanding not discipline or silence, but rather for hushed tones... for a bit of Koitsumi's time, and secrecy. The Sarge adjusted his collar before continuing.

"I'm promoting you again" said the Sarge, leading Koitsumi to his office.
"I'm proud to have done nothing for my country" laughs Koitsumi.
"You've been selected for a special assignment"
"Is it Gang-Task Force work again?"
"No"
"Good; I'm not done taking out the last Yakuza tattoo you stamped on me"
"Believe me, this goes deeper than some Yakuza punks"
"Zaibatsu deep?"
"Not that deep... I hope"
"You hope? Now, wait a minute..."

The Sarge closed the door in on them, and pulled down his blinds. "Yes"

"Sarge... what is this about?" Koitsumi sat down.
"The Kanagawa Municipal Police got a lead a few days ago" The Sarge sat.
"Only us?" Koitsumi said, shifting in his seat.
"I know what it sounds like..." The Sarge said, bowing his head.
"Yeah... power-grabbing... goodness..." Koitsumi shook his head.
"Yes, but it's for the best; it's a matter of national security"
"What's the lead on?" Koitsumi said, watching the Sarge reach into his desk
"The insurgency; we have reason to believe we can stop the rioting"
"How so?" The Sarge handed Koitsumi a batch of pictures.
"All throughout the city, this kind of graffitti is becoming prevalent"
The pictures showed grandiose murals of girls in sailor-fuku.
"So, the insurgents are perverts. How is this important?"
"You have heard of them before; the Sailor Squad"
"Soldiers, Sarge, Sailor Soldiers..."
"Whatever..." The Sarge took back the pictures, switching them for files.
"Let me guess: I'm tracking them down"

"Yes; judging from the descriptions of them, the girls are young, middle-to-high school age... in other words, your punk intern age. You're going fishing, infiltrating the school system, and cold-reading every female student. Details, known suspects and specifications can be found in the file. Questions?"

Koitsumi's mouth was open, his eyes blinking wildly, his head shaking.
"Sarge... we have nothing to go on except a bunch of punk graffitti. These girls are idols, figure-heads..."
"Vigilantes" The Sarge's voice was low and growling.
"In other words, they're the good kind of punk!"
"There's no good criminals; only the ones with lesser offences"
"That's the kind of thinking that got the Zaibatsu into power"
"True. And that's why they want this problem taken care of"
"Zaibatsu are in this?" Koitsumi said.
"The Kaworu-Tokuchu Importers, specifically" The Sarge said.
"In other words... Teamsters?" Koitsumi smiled.
"They're the ones being impacted the most. Their... salesmen keep getting attacked, almost exclusively. The insurgents know about their prescriptions trade."
"... Zaibatsu's bribing you, aren't they?"

There was a long pause. The Sarge's eyes were rings of fire, piercing into Koitsumi's calm, suspicious ones.

"Yes", the Sarge said finally. "And they're offering you the Riot Unit and four years in a lawyer's school, paid in full, if you obey."

Koitsumi smiles. "You damn dirty government dog" he says.
"Like you, like us all" The Sarge replies.
"I don't want a damned promotion"
"Of course..."
"I'm quitting" Koitsumi slams the files on the Sarge's desk, and takes a few steps to the door.
"Your mother is a mongrel waste of tax-payer work hours; I wonder if she'd die how much money she'd save me..."
Koitsumi stopped dead at the door, visibly shaking.
The Sarge's head bowed. Koitsumi's breath quickened with every second.
"Hiroto... I'm sorry... I'm afraid you have no other choice"
"How long?" Koitsumi's voice broke.
"Since you got out of school and started looking for jobs"
"Were you in on it?" He looked back at the Sarge.
"Of course not. I still owe you a drink, you know"

Slowly, Koitsumi shuffled back to the desk. Grabbing the files, he looked again at the Sarge. His eyes became large, tears building under them.

"Do this... I swear, your family will never be threatened again" The Sarge says, smiling.
"Thank you... I guess" says Koitsumi, sighing.
"Good luck. This will be easy." The Sarge watches Koitsumi walk out his door.
"Right" he hears him say.  

[Comrade Texidor]

III. FIRST DAY

Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. BUILD YOUR WINGS ON THE WAY DOWN!

"Your son Hiroto loves you, Kauri" says the card he sets beside on his mother's side table. The chair he sits is creaky, rusty, white, soft, dead cold, dead simple, a sleeping anemic milk. His mother seems to sleep quietly and peacefully. The doctor's tell him she has no unconsciousness, and does not dream; when she wakes... if she ever does... she will not have felt she slept for up to five years. Her wounds heal well. The gash across her mouth is no longer, making it look as if she were a work of origami. He passes a hand through her hair. It's rough and dusty, as if she'd just straightened it. She got her first gray hairs today. She never had them before. Her mouth is starting to develop lines. They tell him she has a massive bruise on her back. She hasn't moved in so long...

"How you doing today?" he asks.
"..." His mother is silent.
"That bad, huh... don't worry, you don't look old yet"
"..."
"Fine, if you can't take a compliment... at least help me with this"
"..." She sleeps as he takes out his case file from the backpack strapped to him.
"First place I'm going is this public school..., where this definite is… studying… I guess”
“…”
“It’s just that judging from the thickness of her file, she doesn’t pay that much attention”
“…”
“She’s, frankly, the kinda girl you’d like me to date: delinquent, martial artist, ballsy…”
“…”
“Hey, you always said I needed a bodyguard!”
“…”
“Fine, fine… anyway, my guess is that she’d be a probable member of any insurgency”
“…”
“See? Lack of respect for authority, prone to violence…”
“…”
“My money, though, is that she’s more delicate than she might let on”
“…”
“All of this… toughness, it’s a veil for vulnerability. Says here she used to have physical contact with an older boy”
“…”
“And, also, she’s constantly bullied. There’s three girls in particular, actually”
“…”
“Teachers say she always shows up with fresh bruises and bandages; abusive household, maybe? Or from more bullying?”
“…”
“Really, all of these are red flags in any book… I guess I’d be doing her a favor collaring her, though”
“…”
“Hey, if Dad hadn’t arrested you, you’d probably be snorting Vicodin again”
“…”
“Okay, okay, bringing Dad up makes you upset, I get it. I’m sorry, really”
“…”
“Didn’t I tell you to not bring up the pot again? I told you, I stopped when I started my internship”
“…”
“Fine, you don’t believe me… what, you have my toilet for proof?”
“…”
“Ha, didn’t think so!"

He stops for a moment to look at her. His mother is not moving at all. Five years later, she hasn't moved an inch of her body. She looks so old, so spent, so tired... The smile slowly slips from his face. He takes a deep breath and places his head on her stomach. He begins to speak to her anon.

"I miss you, you know" he says.
"..." She remains silent.
"They got the damned foreigner mutt that did this"
"..."
"I'm always wondering when you're gonna wake up"
"..."
"And I know you can't tell me... no one can... but I just can't wait"
"..."
"You'll see... I'm gonna make you so proud"
"You know, people are gonna think you're crazy" says a voice.
Koitsumi smiles. "Why, mom, I didn't know you smoked like a chimney"
"Go screw yourself" says the Sarge.

Koitsumi jumps up from his mother's stomach and adjusts his backpack.

"You ready?" the Sarge asks him.
"Born ready" says Koitsumi.

-------

"Why do the Zaibatsu want these girls in particular?" asks Koitsumi.
"Personally, I really don't know; they don't look all that dangerous" says the Sarge.
"And I guess the two of us know that 'influence' stuff is all crap"
"Yeah... but you have to admit, the kids do idolize them"
"From eyewitness descriptions, they're rather young; I doubt anyone would idolize children"
"They're not children, Hiroto; those same eyewitnesses claim they beat the hell out of a lot of people"
"Bad ones... all the more reason why I doubt and oppose Zaibatsu's reasons"
"Yeah, yeah, just be glad your mother isn't dead and you're not going after Yakuza again"
"I still don't have to like it. What other charges do they have?"
"Assault, damage to property... that Kino you have your eyes on is actually a suspect in a murder"
"Murder? Does the principal know?"
"Yes, it's why he asked us to come over here specifically: one of the Sailors match her description"
"Sounds trumped up to me"
"It is"
"Zaibatsu must really want it's political power"
"The Nationalists support them"
"Probably why people are joining in the protests in the first part! People don't understand that struggle! They never have, not after the old days!"
"Their little revolution is gonna cost a lot of lives; I know you don't want that"
"I suppose. Is this the place?"
"It's a nice enough neighborhood, if you really consider it"
"Yeah, consider, sure... if you consider ignoring the gangs and the dying"
"Fine, be careful, you paranoid idiot"
"Thanks for the ride, Sarge"
"Officially, it's Dad" said the Sarge.
"Our moustaches are identical, huh?" Koitsumi bristled his upper lip.

Koitsumi stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. As the car sputtered away, the sounds of the school came to Koitsumi. It is an illusion of the past that envelops his senses. The voices are first to come. They are laughing, cheering, talking, as if nothing in particular is happening. He walks into the assembling crowd. The gate's locks are removed with a clanking and a clinking and they screech open, particles of rust coming off of the hinges. They fall like muddled snow, the precipitation of a nuclear viral ragnarok. The halls are infested with asbestos, an orange mist gathering all around the circulating mongrels and slaves. Eyes follow his every step. They are round and large and scared, uncertain, suspicious, mocking, analyzing, unsure of this piece of meat's worth. The walls are festering, writhing, innumerable amounts of primer and blood and dead skin scraped all over them and passed off as cyanide-coated paint out of a can. The walls of his classroom are white and cold, like an concrete igloo in the middle of a frozen wasteland.

As he sits down, everyone else leaves. Out in the hallway, there comes a myriad of cries and screams and roars. Hollow thuds sound out several times, bodies falling down, punches being landed, blood spilling on the ground. Eventually, they are drowned out by the cheering, the chanting, the screaming of stop, stop, stop, and please, please, please, no more, no more... and then, it all stops. There is a dead silence, preceded by voices becoming distant, and with rapid, shallow breaths. And then... it comes: the howling, the wailing, the crying. It is a single girl... and she is howling to the air. It is the cry of a generation, huddled, cold, and dying in an inferno of emptied stomachs and sore eyes and tired bodies and ailing hearts and mongrel souls. She cries to the empty darkness, the flailing monsters crawling all around, waiting, patiently, for the cries to punctuate and perforate the night. Crying, crying, crying... she calls out...
And then she stops.

"I'm home again" Koitsumi says, under his breath, with a laugh.  

[Comrade Texidor]

IV. MONSTERS

“I expose slavery in this country, because to expose it is to kill it. Slavery is one of those monsters of darkness to whom the light of truth is death”

Frederick Douglass

"Ignorance breeds monsters to fill up the vacancies of the soul that are unoccupied by the verities of knowledge"

Horace Mann

Class is actually quite normal, considering the lack of random outbursts and fights over mothers and boyfriends. It's not like it was ten years ago. They're all sleepy, not bored. They're actually writing, some of them. Most, they're not writing at all... no doodles, no messages being passed around of naked chicks or black people with big fat lips or buck-toothed Chinese, prease. Whenever the History teacher mentioned Pearl Harbor, nobody clapped or looked uncomfortable. No books were ripped up in front of their faces. Nobody is smoking in the bathrooms. Nobody is sneaking out of class to make out... and yet, the cold, dead stares continue, at each other, at their teachers, at their books, at the boards, at the squeaking, squeaking, squeaking markers and scratchy, scratchy, scratchy chalk. It's all so different, all so very very different now...
By God, they've gotten to them.

Centuries of Western teaching methods have broken them clean in tiny little pieces. Their souls are scattered everywhere. Crash they go, guts, hearts, brains pulsating and in corners, gathering dust like a muddy plastic dog toy, munch. The mongrel hordes were not from China; they were from the Americas, not from the East, but from the West. In their quest for Salvation and Tribute, this is what they've left: obedient little monsters, for the drowned generations to come. There was naught here when they came, anyway: kawaii, ukiyo-e, tentacle monstrosities, lechers, violence, sex, whores, queers, buck-toothed simpletons, primitive to a fault, obsessed with underwear, wanting their own little boy for whenever, with nothing but honor and ancient tradition and cultural annihilation and fish-style gutted bellies as excuses. The Divine Wind was false; it was the Secular Wind they all had to watch out for.

"Koitsumi, Hiroto?" the teacher said at the very beginning.
"Right here" he said.
"Please, stand up and allow me to introduce you to the class"
Koitsumi stood at the front, where all could see him.
"Now, class, this is Hiroto Nagawa Koitsumi"
"Hello, Hiroto" droned the class.
"He is the son of a police officer" the woman stressed these words, "does anyone have any questions for him before he takes his seat?"
One hand shot up. "Yeah, are you wired?" it said. Everyone laughed.
"Wanna cavity-search me yaoi style that bad?" was Koitsumi's reply.
Everyone laughed louder. Another hand rose. "You a cop?"
"Not unless my nuts are actually raisins from all the steroids I've taken to be this short"
"Okay, that's enough" said the teacher.
"What, do short people jokes offend tall people now?" said Koitsumi, sitting back down.
A knock at the door. "Hiroto Koitsumi, you're wanted in the principal's office"
"Lookidat: popularity works fast in this school"

They still do the same things they did before. The same procedures, the same initiations, the same archaic crap, remainders of those old barbaric times they all abhor now. You can still see it in their eyes, their mutt eyes, mud colored and filled with the corruption of their traitorous parents. They have the filth of the Occident running through their veins. They lie on their knees while they are spoon-fed the lies of their masters: civility, diplomacy, technology... intellectual poison prevalent since the day of Reckoning.

The halls are empty now, and the principal's office is smack dab in the middle of the teaching area. Pretty handy, considering the school's reputation: Koitsumi'd already seen six chicks with fake curls since he'd got there. Amazingly, the principal's joint is quaint, classical... in stark contrast to the school, in other words. A little table sits on a rug in the center, a tiny Bonsai tree perched atop it. The desk is polished mahogany, imported from Europe most likely. In a corner is an Old American-style desk, roll-up cover and all. The Principal fit it all: a bearded, college-educated administrative scholar, who was too lazy to get a doctorate and too stupid to get into anything else. His big Principal's chair's backholder is dark brown leather, placated upon a wheel stand carved out of plasticine black bone. The leather made an audible rubbing sound as the old man shifted his weight to push himself upwardand extend his arm for a shake.

"Officer, it's a pleasure to meet you" said the man, giving Koitsumi a firm handshake with a clammy, cold hand.
"I'm quite sure. Is there any particular reason why'd you'd try to compromise my operation here?" Koitsumi said, wiping his hand on his pants.
"Actually, I was ordered to brief you, and to inform you I'm also your de-briefing contact; for every day of your operation, you must submit a report or a "no data" note to my office via your teachers. They all know who you are, and swore over their teaching licenses they'd keep it all secret"
"So, it's all up to me not to screw it up"
"Trust me, I won't blame you if these little monsters get to you"
"But still, it's up to me that the monsters don't get to me"
"Quite so; if I may ask, have you any suspects at this point I may help you with?"
"A few: the first is this Kino girl"
"Makoto? She's a handful, I'll tell you that. In and out of local jails, almost always cleared as a juvenile on a misdemeanor."
"I thought you had a policy for that"
"We do; it's just that Kano manages to give us the slip before we can catch her at anything"
"What about these girls that people say mess her up?"
"The Urokawa Bunch: wannabe-gang girls. Never had any major trouble with them, but I have heard the rumors"
"Then... maybe you can help me collar them without suspicions?"
"Of course; Kino heads west from the gates, following a bunch of alleys so we can't track her down"
"Let me guess: the Urokawa Bunch are not very bright and are best dealt with later"
"How did you guess?"
"You remind me of a principal I once met"
"Truly?"
"Yes; I was my commandant's aide my first year, and I was taking notes during an 'interrogation' with the principal of a certain middle school..."
"Whose name you cannot divulge"
"You catch on quick; anyway, my superior wanted to search a bunch of kids's lockers for drugs and the principal wasn't having it"
"Oh, wait..."
"Yeah, you saw this in the news: my superior had pushed the principal too hard, and she ended up going to jail for slapping him. He told her that she was running a mule operation with her kids after he questioned her motives for not giving way"
"Wow"
"She told him she was devoted to her kids; they were her friends, and she wasn't going to turn on them"
"Did you manage to get a warrant?"
"No; even in jail, she refused consent. We conducted a search anyway and we found nothing. Turns out it was just one dealer giving free samples"
"How horrible"
"I suppose"
"Of course, I won't intervene in your operations"
"So long as I stay away from you?"
"How did you guess?"
"I was hoping you'd put up more of a fight"

Koitsumi gave him one last smile (he averted shaking hands with him)before returning to the hallways. He was disgusted. He knew already: this was the parent of all these snotty brats. Mutts, mongrels, mutts, damned mutts, dirty whores, filthy little brats all, sinners all, the Lord sent them to the Devil. And no matter how much they prayed to him, the Lord told them they could not rid themselves of their mistakes. And they mistook the Lord's sayings as abandonment. And when the Devil heareth their pityful and pathetic cries, they joined him, because he understood them... and he gave them power, the power they always thought they needed, when all they needed was to keep their mouths shut and their heads down. They mistook themselves as superior and constrained, when their very inferiority and stupidity prevented them from realizing the one true thing every man should have before anything else: humility.

The day dragged on very slowly. It was hot and dry, and the air was saturated and heavy with the fumes of the city. Koitsumi rubs his eyes, wishing he hadn't gotten up from bed. He sits on a nearby bench, lighting up a cigarrette. The smoke rises up into the air. Watching it, Koitsumi sees a teacher staring from behind this veil, eyes wide.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

She shook her head. He shows his middle finger to her. She recoiled, disgusted, insulted. She left.

---

The day dragged on. Like the specter of some ancient memory passing by, from a dream one can't remember, the day dragged on. The students are finally dismissed. Koitsumi's eyes scan the marching crowds. He remembers the picture he perused over, memorized the creases in her face, the loops in her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, the smoothness of the legs... the uniform. Kino is exiting the school through the eastern gate. Koitsumi ducks into the crowd, away from Kino's own path, to make sure he didn't let her suspect she was being followed. She looks at the sidewalk, though, wary only of obstacles in her path and little else... particularly the jeers of three girls in front of Koitsumi.

"You going to your rathole, sweetheart?" one of them yelled.
"Everyone knows what a dirty skank you are!" the second yelled.
"Don't bother hiding it!" the third yelled.
"We're talking to you, Kano!"
"Yeah, Mako-chan, you gonna run back to your girlfriends?"
"I bet they protect you with their lesbian boobs, too!"

And on it went. Koitsumi's heart beat faster, and his breath remained steady and low. He made sure to stay out of all their sights, using crowds to hide himself. As they got thinner, he was forced to risk loosing the girls by clearing distance. However, when they entered the alleys, he managed this, knowing that the girls would not stray far.

"It's a good thing I was trained in the Ninja School for Midgets" he says.

The Urokawa followed Kino far, berating her with increasing violence until they quieted and began to murmur under their voices. They could see their tactics were working: Makoto kept looking back at them, with looks of either ire or sorrow or just plain helplessness. They began again:

"Whatever happened to your girlfriends, slut?"
"I bet they left you! Ain't that a crying lesbo shame?"
"We'll kill them all!"
Kino snapped, "Don't talk about my friends!"
"Oh, look, the coward's grown a pair!"
"Leave me alone!"
"We're gonna kill you and all your lesbo friends!"
"You leave my friends alone! I'm warning you!"
"I bet they'll let me suck their b..."

There was a silence as Kino's fist connected with the speaking girl's nose, which gave off an audible crack. She keeled over as the other two pounced on Kino. They gut-punched her, pulling at her hair, trying to rip it off, and carried it on to a nearby wall. As the fallen girl complained about her broken nose, Koitsumi snuck up behind her and put a hand over her mouth. He dragged her to the shadows, away from the scuffle. The girl cried out for her friends. They never responded. They were too busy shoving their fists all over Kino's face, who was holding her arms out, grasping for hair or clothes or a hand to help her up and save her. One of them grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Kano collapsed unto the ground. They started to kick her head, stomping, swiping, head-to-wall, head-to-floor. Blood spread on the floor near Kano's head.

Koitsumi grabbed one of the girls by the arms, lifting her up into the air. She fought and kicked and screamed, and the other noticed, pushing Koitsumi off balance as the two fell to the ground. Koitsumi managed to get up to confront them.

"Oh, look, it's Kino's boyfriend" the designated leader said.
"Or her gay dwarf manservant" the second one said.
"That's a funny joke; keep in mind, though, I'm not saying you're capable of coming up with it" Koitsumi said.

They both charged him. Koitsumi grabbed unto one of them and pulled himself to her. He pushed her as hard as he could, shoving her into the other one and throwing them both to the ground. He managed one kick at one of them before the other got up and clawed at him. He grabbed her arms, the cuts on his face stinging. The girl gave a last yelp before falling to the ground from a falling fist crashing with the back of her head. The third girl was still conscious, and still crying for her broken nose.

"I'll fix it for her" Kino said.

She took off one of her heels and walked to where the girl was squirming on the ground. Koitsumi looked away. Soon, the girl had stopped complaining. Kino wiped the soles of the heel on a nearby pedestal and dusted her foot and placed it within the former. She looked down at Koitsumi; she was so much taller than him. The wind began to howl, and the leaves growing up the side of the old buildings rustled, like drums of war. One of her eyes was bruised, and one side of her face was covered in the blood of herself and of the other girls. The wind whipped her hair into a horizontal dust-devil. Koitsumi stared long and hard into her eyes; he could almost feel her hands on his own neck and her knees on his chest, his last breaths coursing through his lungs.

"Thanks" she said.
"Anytime" Koitsumi said with a smile.

---

Koitsumi's light flickered a dance through the wings of the tiny moth near it. Outside his window, the city gave it's evening cry, some road-raging jerk who almost squashed a pedestrian. The sink was thick with blood. The scratches on his face and neck had finally clotted... still stinging, of course. He let his tie and dress shirt and belt and pants drop and he fell unto his bed. The city quieted as dreams took over him. The light winked at him one last time before he slipped away... to a time when nightmares and dreams are one and the same... two worlds, the awoken and the sleeping, the same, day and night the same.

I dare you, tell me the differences. I dare you.  

[Comrade Texidor]

V. TIGER

"Tyger Tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"

William Blake, Songs of Experience

Endymion shifted in his throne. The grand mahogany table that stretched out before him seemed endless in scope and size. The door sat on the horizon, half-open, light trickling in. The food was coming out any second now, right on cue for Tora's arrival. He sighed. He was used to bad news, and hated when it was masqueraded as good. It's as if everyone around him thought he couldn't handle it. He was Prince of the Earth. He could handle any damn thing this world of his threw at him. He was meant to. It was his destiny. It was all of their destinies. They were bred for it, created for it. This was their job... he just wishes people didn't make it so hard for them. Endymion raps his fingers on the table. He looks behind him, scratching the little paranoid itch the stress caused him. No one is there.

A door slams. Endymion jumps. A sudden chatter of voices comes from outside the door. Endymion shoves his cape behind him. It gets hitched on the corner of the table. Trying to pull it, the cape detaches from his uniform. Before it falls to the ground, Endymion tries to catch it. The tiny chair he sits in tilts. The legs slip on the polished wooden floor. Endymion and chair keel over with an echoing crack. The door to the room creaks open slightly, pushed on by an arm. The person is talking to someone on the outside about the strategic placement of a coat. Endymion manages to straighten himself, discards the cape under the table, and inches over to get a big, comfy armchair before the man enters the room.

"I see you decided to get comfortable. You didn't hurt yourself?" the man says.
"How did you know?" Endymion says, hand over blushing face.
"The sound of your butt collapsing unto the floor is similar to a bone breaking; I dare not forget that ever"
"That's both disturbing and mean of you"
"'Mean'? You, my friend, have been spending too much time with the Senshi"
"Perhaps so. I see you got someone else to decorate your face"
"He did a horrible job, if you ask me"
"How are you, Tora?" Endymion embraces the man.
"That's Field Marshal to you, pretty boy" Tora says, his face smooshed against Endymion's chest.
"What, being my librarian not cut out for you?"
"Never was; believe me, I never thought you sending me to my untimely death would be so good for my political career"
"You bring me good news from Andromeda? That's shocking!"
"They're willing to sign the treaty if they never see my ugly mug again"
"You do excellent work, I'll admit. Ha ha!" Endymion bear-hugs Tora and lifts him up into the air.
"You know, the Midget Union is gonna file this little incident under 'employee abuse'"
"You do great, great work!" Endymion's smile, however, falters.
"I don't like to brag..." Tora notices this, playing down his friend's feelings.
"Yes... you want a favor from me, though"
Tora's head bowed. "How did you guess?"
"I know you, my friend, that is how. But please, don't be ashamed. I must expect it, even from the best of people"
"Thanks... then you'll listen to me" Tora sits down on a chair nearby Endymion.

Tora's air becomes quite stern, nervous... unpleasant, to say the least. His hands fidget, and he breaths quietly and quickly. With his right hand, he presses down on his eyes, and he runs it across his face. The gash is rough and gritty, in some contrast to the skin on his face. His hand rustles the black hair that distinguishes him from the rest of the military and scholars, hair Endymion recognizes and identifies and finds unsettling. Tora, a major gap in crowds of flowing blonde hair and smiling happy creatures, truly stands out. A bit too much, in this case.

"You know the request Earth is circulating amidst the planets?" says Tora.
"Yes; I find it's logic... unsound" says Endymion.
"A high council asked me to pass it on to you" says Tora.
"Get out of my house" Endymion's cape swirls in the air, over his arm, as he stands and, in galloping stride, aims straight for the exit of the diner.
"Endymion, please, listen to me!" Tora calls.
"No, you listen to me, my friend: the Silver Millenium does not need a fail-safe"
"That's not what I or anyone else on Earth sees"
"Well, excuse me if I haven't lived up to the people's expectations; good day"
Tora grabs unto Endymion's arm. "Endymion, please"
"I will not pass it on to the Queen"
"At least get her to hear it; it will be enough, I swear"
"That proposal is based on manic paranoia and it is absolutely ridiculous" Endymion wrenches his shoulder from Tora's hand "if you think you could convince me..."
"It is not entirely unfounded, my prince... you and I know that"
"Andromeda was a mistake... but not any longer, thanks to you"
"We went too deep... understand..."
"Tora..."
"I beg you; reject to even take it, you will loose the military's support"
Endymion looks at Tora. Tora averts his eyes.
They threatened me, Endymion almost hears him think.
Endymion's entire face quivers, glowing red, as he speaks:
"How dare they even think about it! How dare they?"
"Forgive me... but I must agree with them" Tora's eyes are sharp as needles.
"Tora... not you too..."
"I know you trust the Queen... but it's not her that built this Kingdom; it was us. Without us, she's just another relic of the Universe"

Endymion's eyes shift in his head. He drapes his cape into Tora's arm and begins to pace. The big black soles of his shoes shine and clacker on the crystal floor of the great dining hall. The light reflects off his eyes as he looks up and sighs.

"I'll tell her" Endymion says.
Tora smiles. "Thank you so much, my friend"
"Tell your subordinates, though, that they shouldn't expect any miracles"
"Oh, no, of course, of course... Quite honestly, they didn't think I could get past you"

---

"How much was the Queen outraged?"
A long pause. "Endymion?" ~~~~
"Not enough"  

[Comrade Texidor]

VI. CREEP

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars”

Charles Austin Beard

Koitsumi feels the sweat slide down his brow and fall into his eye as he shakes in his bed. It's only a little, from not turning on the AC for the evening. He wipes it off with the undershirt he has not yet taken off and scratches his foot that still has a sock on. He shifts his buttocks so that he bounces off of the bed, two times longer and wider than he. The bathroom is soon alit and the sink flowing and soaked with water. Little droplets cling to the edges. He turns on the water red hot, so that he burns himself a lot as he swelters off the filth from his month old toothbrush. The paste is green and shiny and minty. He feels it in his eyes, cool, tickling, smooth.

As he scratches his teeth clean, his ears are working smoothly. The apartment building is alive as well. The piping is creaking and clanking, water and heat and steam working all throughout, going in and out. The walls are very thin and grimy at the top. You put your ear to them, you can hear what is happening in five different rooms in that direction. There is a man who works a construction job while trying to get into college next to him. A little old lady with a puppy and radical opinions of blacks in the room next to that. Prostitutes work in the next two, one much younger than the other. A salaryman and his family live in the room right in front of the stairs, and apparently is the only one aware of the prostitutes when he sound-proofed the apartment.

Koitsumi touches the back of his throat in a bid to get the harsh, bitter smell from his mouth and throat. He hacks, and he throws it up all over the bottom of the sink. There is a knock on the door. His neck snaps up, and he stands straight, tall, erect, listening for another sound. The Sarge told him that shouldn't happen ever. Nobody, nobody, nobody is supposed to knoc on his door, the last one at the end of his hall on the third floor, in between the second and fourth. He stands there for up to ten seconds... stock still, stiff, stiff, stiff, listening, just listening. There is another couple of knocks. Koitsumi asks who is there. No answer. Koitsumi gets nervous, as he does not hear the visitor knock again. His guess? The visitor is really, really, really itching to get inside. The visitor wanted to catch Koitsumi off guard.

Koitsumi dashes to the bed and thrusts his hand under the mattress. He cocks the 9 mil the Sarge gave him for his graduation party and points it at the door from his hip. He creeps toward it. He grasps the knob. Something outside makes the wooden floor creak. The knob turns as Koitsumi peeks the gun's barrel and his left eye out and into the hallway. He aims it to the left and to the right, noticing... that no one is there.

"Probably just..." he says.
The third-to-last thing he sees is two legs in high heels splintering the door open, and the rim of the door in a collision course with his nose. The third-to-last thing he heard was what he thought was the door splintering. The second-to-last thing he saw was the ceiling. The second-to-last thing he heard was someone say something:
"Damn, wrong..."
The last thing he saw was the ceiling with a brand-new green glow. The last thing he heard was a swoosh. Darkness enveloped him. Then he came back to. He felt himself magically rise. And then, he hit himself with his now-very smooth apparent door. He is pushed into the wall near the door, and, while he manages to remain on his feet, he apparently hit himself again and collapsed, feet up in the air, his back flat on the floor. His eyes peer out through the really bright spots popping in and out all over, like firecrackers in the day. His head swims as a hand grasps the neck of his sleeper shirt and lifts him up with only a few bits of difficulty on his gangling feet.

"You were following me yesterday" a girl says.
"I have no idea..." Koitsumi starts.
"Who are you? Who do you work for?"
"Who am I?" Koitsumi says.
"Who do you work for?"
"What..." He laughs.

A round solid thing, most likely her knee, sinks into Koitsumi's stomach. The sudden exit of air makes his throat sore, and it makes him crunch into himself. With her heel, the girl forces Koitsumi on his back again. He feels the heel sink into his left cheek, crushing that side of his jaw into his mouth. It soon shifts and starts pressing Koitsumi's lips unto the carpet.

"Talk!" she cries.
"Egh... Gh'ont..."
"What? What's that? I can't hear you"
Koitsumi reaches for her leg. He manages to pull of the strap on heel and soon finds himself being kicked (twice, very hard) by a bare foot.
"Cooperate, creep! Who are you? Who do you work for? Who sent you?"
"Sptth... wu... weh..."
The foot begins to crush his throat. "Who sent you?" "I... I don't... know..."
A firm, powerful hand grasps at his whole face. "Who sent you?" she hisses in his ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about" Koitsumi sputters through his squeezed lips.
With another cry, her knee connects with his groin. Koitsumi crunches over on himself, shouting, cursing.
"You stay away from me and my friends, you creep!" she cries.
Thudding footsteps on wood... groaning... silence...

---

"You damned idiot!"
"I'm sorry"
"She hasn't shown up in class for five days!"
"I'm sorry..."
"You lost her! You blew your cover, you blew this case... you lost your damned promotion, if you ask me!"
"Didn't ask you, actually..."
"They're gonna court martial you and they'll sell the video of your execution to Michael Moore for one of his documentaries!"
"Look, you can either moan and b***h the way you do to your mother when you're asking for sex or you can help me get her back on the radar."
"How dare you!"
"If you're not gonna do the latter, I'm hanging up and running"
"You should run! I'm hoping they let me volunteer to shoot you myself! You idiot! You damn idiot!"
"Look at me, I'm shaking in my lil' Police boots"
"I'm gonna strangle you!"
"Are you done?"
The Principal gives a couple of sighs... "Yes... I am... Well... like I said, she hasn't shown up in a long time."
"Are you sure? Don't you have snitches?"
"Well paid ones. They haven't heard a thing from anyone"
"Most likely she has outside-school help. They're not gonna help"
"Why do you figure?"
"Didn't see her walking home with anyone. She doesn't seem fond of anyone here"
"She's in the wind, then... wait, I know!"
"You have her adress?"
"Thought of that; the Police say it's a dummy. However, I do know where she might hang out"
"Good thinking; you noticed as well?"
"Yes, there's a lesbian-controlled nude paradise near the place I eat"
"Uh... sir, not all tomboy's are lesbians"
"They aren't?"
"Tomboys are fond of boyish hangouts"
"Bars, basketball courts, gyms..."
"No, she doesn't seem like the anti-social type"
"She's not?"
"No; she's cleaner than most of the tomboys in this school: nails done, hair's natural, heels are polished, dress is old but cleaned daily... she dates normally, has a normal outside life of whatever delinquency she usually undergoes"
"I see... and she does not smoke or play, so no courts, and one usually works out at gyms... why not bars?"
"Oh, please, socializing is the last thing people do in them"
"Then where?"
"Arcade"
"Ah, of course: biggest haven for truants"
"Wish me luck"
"And you're not just trying to skip, are you?"
"A hint you should take, sir: maybe I am"  

[Comrade Texidor]

VII. DOLL

The morning is quiet and sedate. The colors of the shops and apartments and houses that line the sidewalk and the street are sedate, relaxed, bleachy, calm. Little old ladies walk in and out of cheap corporate front clothing stores clutching the fifth cheap shirt for their grandchildren who never visit. The coffeehouse is replete with it's usual dredgers and quacks; looking at the likes of the people sitting around, they had a college degree, were working for a college degree, and were too stuffy to notice anybody walking by, and didn't care to work for it, seeing as how all the universities are open today. The people around this area seem friendlier than those in Koitsumi's neighborhood, however. The children running around in the playgrounds that come out to run into the street are lucky no cars trample them, and they make note to wave and say "hi" to Koitsumi. The mothers wear dresses and so do some girls. The tomboys have no gangs to pledge allegiance to, just baseball teams. The men have the decency to keep their child pornography in their pockets. *****, condom ads, panty-selling vending machines, and manga stores with a backroom are nowhere to be seen. Like old times, one might think.

Koitsumi's ears prop up, listening. "The Game Center" is easy to spot: a tiny little opening smushed in between a cap store and a savings boutique, with a sign bigger than anything in the three. He walks in and is bombarded, almost literally, by the sounds of the machines and the smell of couliflower (you know what they say about couliflowers: they're cabbages with a college education). The first thing you notice, on the immediate right hand side, are a few old-fashioned 80s Space Invader knockoffs, with bloops, bleeps, and bits galore and joysticks and buttons that sometimes didn't do anything when yanked or pressed them. The staples, the fourth-person shooters, were located with some space in between the limited-perspective machines (for those of you that don't know, shooters with just joysticks). Up through the middle are the fighting games, arguably the most populated. On the left hand side was a bare blue wall with a couple of Otaku-esques propped up against them. Those with glasses have them thick and scratchy and with tape around the middle. Those with clogged sinuses give big phlegmy sniffs at the air as Koitsumi passes them by. Those with braces whisper and schlick under their breaths. Koitsumi begins to feel uncomfortable: he is standing out. Unlike him, nobody wore a school uniform like his. The hoods are pulled over some of their faces and the hands were in some of their pockets. And above it all, four dozen pairs of spotlight red eyes drill into his back. Koitsumi holds back a smile: it was worse than his own neighborhood, now that he thinks about it.

Koitsumi walks all the way to a counter at the back of the game room. Above, in 3-D lettering, running the lenght of it, are the words "STORE", "DRINKS", "SNACKS", "BETTING", and "INFO". At the back of it are a variety of trinkets and empty display bottles on shelves, and next to that are fridges filled with bottled and canned drinks, ice cream, candy, and slurpee tubes. Running the length of this, in a white sign and capitalized letters, is "NO ALCOHOL OR TOBACCO WITHOUT I.D." It is brimmed with stools and packed with attendants in varying styles of dress, but all wearing the same cap that read "Game Center". The stools were all empty, so Koitsumi walked to the one farthest from the masses and sat down. The attendants glared at him as well in between their chores.

"Who the hell are you?" the one in front of him asks, arms crossed.
"Uh... a customer?" says Koitsumi, smiling awkwardly.
"You don't look like a typical"
"A what?"
"A frequent customer; I haven't seen you around before"
"Is that a problem?"
"Yes, it is; we don't serve first timers"
"If I order a beer, can I be a frequent customer?"
The attendant looked very annoyed. Koitsumi put his hands in front of his chin, puckered his lips, and said in a cutesy voice, "Pwetty pwease?"
The attendant rolled his eyes and ducked. After rustling the ice in the under-counter freezers, he came out with a Kai and put on the top.
"I.D., please" droned the attendant.
Koitsumi reaches around at his back pocket and hands him his wallet.
"You don't look 19" says the attendant, frown on face, eyes drilling.
"Didn't stop you selling it to those guys" Koitsumi says, sticking his thumb out behind him at the rather short over-15ers blasting away on the 4-D shooters.
The attendant shook his head, and then snapped it up, staring intently behind Koitsumi.
"What's your problem?" he asks.
"It's her" the attendant growls.

Koitsumi looked behind him... and didn't understand the attendant's venom. Amidst the rust and the vapid, peeling paint of the posters of the fighting machines now stood one odd duck out: the vivid, opaque, swimmingly smooth and flowing veil of gold and red. Hers were the only bare legs and filled shirt around. She slips the dangling purse from her arm next to her in between the two machines and stretches. She's tall, too tall for the neighborhood. The carbon monoxide would have left her like everyone else. No, she's not from around here. Or at least, from too far from here. There's an inner-city suburb not too far from The Game Center. But usually, the suburb kids come in here in the afternoon. She's skipping. Koitsumi is asking himself, why does everyone make themselves so conspicuous? Why make it so obvious? Why make it so easy?

She's really into the machine she's playing. "Sailor V", it reads at the top. One of the vigilante girls, if the police files finally ring true. They rarely do, you understand.
She sweeps her veil to the side. She gives out a cry of desperation, cursing her opponent and vowing she'd defeat him no matter what he tossed at her. She swore it to the gods up above in the star-lit heavens. All she needed was the coin in her hand and the will within herself.

"It's a weird chick, so what?" says Koitsumi, gulping his longneck.
"'So what?'" the attendant says in mock baby mode.
"Screw you. What, you afraid you might finally get a circumcision?"
"No, I'm afraid she might get someone else to do it"
"She a troublemaker?"
"Frequent one; she always twists the guys's nips and scares away my customers"
"Wow, she's a like some Class-A tyrant. I'm so scared"
"Whatever. At least your boss doesn't own a ceremonial katana"
"Good point"
"Damn, she's coming over"
A clacker of heels, an groan of exhaustion. "Water, please" she moans.
"One-fifty" says the attendant, teeth clenched.
"Don't got no one-fifty..."
"Then you don't get not water"
"Oh, come on, Takeshi! I've had a really rough day and I need a painkiller"
"There's always dry swallowing" says Takeshi, smirk-on-face.
Koitsumi reaches into his back pocket for some yen and slaps them on the table.
"Three-fifty" he says.
"Oh, sweet..." Takeshi begins.
"Change isn't a tip; it's for the lady"
Takeshi's fist clenches tight around the bottle of water he slams on the table.
The girl looks at Koitsumi. "No, I won't have sex with you" she says.
"Don't remember ever asking for it"
"So, it's free?"
"I figure playing on the machines gets kinda exciting. You might need it"
"Did you ever figure how stupid you might sound saying that?"
"Probably; but then again, who's fault is it sounds dirty?"
"You calling me a pervert?"
"I'm implying you think I'm a pervert. But luckily, it's only a little joke"
"Yeah... luckily"
"You not gonna tell me your name?"
"Nope"
"Then I guess you'll settle for me calling you 'Red' or 'Blondie'"
"You won't have the pleasure; you won't get to see me again"
She stands up and walks away. "What, no thanks... Blondie?" he calls out.
She stops. Her hips sway with the hand she puts on them as she turns to look at him. Her eyes are tiny and blue and amused. The smirk on her face tells him, fine, you got me, but I'll get you back... right now.
"Sure. Thanks for the drink... short-stuff"

Instead of going back to the machines, she walks right out, heels clackering, scum smiling and drooling and sniffing at the scent of suburbia lingering in the filthy impotent urban air. She wings her purse around her arm as she steps out, looking both ways up and down the sidewalk. A glint flashes at Koitsumi as the 10:00AM sun makes the veil shine like a golden mantle rising up in the air, the spirit of the city incarnate, waiting to emerge and breathe, making it so through her, glorious, glorious; a vision, one that is rarely seen by anyone, even the fortunate or the blessed.

"Let me tell ya, you have a smooth way with ladies" Takeshi mocks.
"Nah... I'm just not afraid of them" Koitsumi says.
"..." a strained silence.
"Although, I guess you're right: she really is terrifying... or she will be"
Koitsumi gulps down the half that is left in the bottle and slams it on the table before standing up.

"I'll be back tomorrow" he tells Takeshi.
"You're a cop, aren't you?" Koitsumi hears him say.
"If you keep selling booze to kids, you'll get to see one"
"Right..."
"And you wanna scrub this place; it stinks"  

[Comrade Texidor]

VIII. SECONDS

If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn

Koitsumi has to have caught on the local scent, dragged a pheromone, caught on some sort of testosterone or hormone... It's just that nobody seems to drool or snort or spit or snarl or sniff in his direction anymore. Walking into The Game Center every other day and sitting in the hot, humid, summery place was uneventful, to say the least. Takeshi stopped staring and had taken him on quite a lot. Takeshi was a mama's boy, but not an idle one: Tokyo U was just over the hill, he said. He was taking the entrance exam soon and be a big, famous game designer. He was gonna make his momma real proud, he says.

"I should've learned to play the guitar" Takeshi says.
"Why you say so?" Koitsumi says.
"You not seein' this? Hell, I shoulda learned to play drums, at least"
"What, those new gay guys?"
"They're not gay, they just dress that way"
"Look at that f*****t with his earring and the make-up... I mean, is that even hair on his head?"
"You know it"
"You're kidding me..."
"But nah, see, that's the way you do it: play guitar, play music..."
"... dress like a chick..."
"And you can make it big. I should've learned... I should've..."
"Whatever"
"I'm serious, man: money for nothing; chicks for free"
"Keep dreaming, you bunch of sickos" a girl says.
"You know that hurts, Mina..."
"Who's Mina?"
"Takeshi!" Minako jumped, face of urgency glowering all over the arcade.
"Ahhh... a name? Admittedly, it's better than Blondie, Mina..."
"It's Minako. Please, not Mina..."
"Yeah, it's Ms. Aino to you..."
"Be quiet!"
"If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you my name"
"Well, it's only fair..."
"Yeah, Minako seems to think you're stalking her"
"How accurate of you, Takeshi; did you get that before or after I noticed you outside my gates?"
"..."
"Now, now, abuse is not necessary"
"A little never hurts... Mr.?"
"Koitsumi. Hiroto Koitsumi"
She smiles. "Nice to at least know who to report. Around here, 'short, stocky, and greasy' is too general"
"'Least he isn't ditzy, blonde, and busty"
Koitsumi's daily beer bottle, half filled, flies clean across the counter as it smashes up against the wall, just missing Takeshi's head as he dashes into the relative safety of the arcade's storage room.
"Nice toss. Be careful, or else people are gonna think you're an ATF agent from the 1920's"
"You should know: Takeshi and everyone around says you're a cop" Minako says, sitting down next to Koitsumi.
"Is it the nice clothes or the perfume, you figure?" says Koitsumi.
"Quite honestly, it's that you seem to be flirting successfully with me that's a sign"
"Ahhh... well, if you don't mind me asking, am I?" He
"Well..." Minako runs her index finger up and down the side of Koitsumi's face, "what do you think?"
"Uh... Oh... Wow... well... can I come back to that later?"
"I need a better answer, or else I'll stop doing this..."
"Oh, don't stop... well... signs are pointing to yes?"
She stops. "You fail"
"Damnit"
She laughs.

----

Minako gives him a little wave with her fingers before she strides off down to the suburban sector, almost like a strut of guidance and sunshine. Whistling a little tune, keys swinging on his finger like a flail, Takeshi flicks his fingers in a pseudo-military salute, an attempt at trying to look cool, no doubt. Koitsumi stops under a lamp-post waiting for an opening in the late-night traffic. He looks down the ways to where Mina and Takeshi were headed: the street leads straight into the main commercial areas, judging from the saturation of color in that direction. Further ahead, to the left, one can see a detour, most likely the entrance to Minako's neighborhood. Koitsumi then looks the other ways, to where he's headed: the darkness is so consuming and gooey and thick, striding into it is probably like wading through a wall of water, as suffocating and as much of a wake-up call anyone could have.

"I'm gonna shoot the monkey in charge of the safehouses" he mutters.

The only lights down the street are the lamp-posts. People are rushing by to some party up there. They seem to stop and stare at Koitsumi. He passes by stores with cashiers that will still be manning their posts at the crack of dawn, children of the grave with nothing else to do except to whither away... wastes of life, sperm and egg. Every now and then, sitting on a park bench, or hiding from invisible rain under a bus shelter, is a strange, fat little man, lips puckered, sucking away at the air.

They go into said stores and they mention somethinga about special merchandise. The zombies walk backwards and go into the back room, a place darker than the street outside, darker than a moonless night. Out they come, clutching portraits and frames wrapped in brown paper. Unwrapping it reveals the monsters within us all. Unwrapping it reveals the death of the culture of the nation. Unwrapping it reveals a framed drawing, oiled, inked, ready to go, blood, guts, ovaries, intestines, and tentacles all ready to go. They notice Koitsumi looking in. They glare, long and hard. The store clerk goes to the door and slams it shut. The poster advertising on the window is tame in comparison to their fantasies.

The apartment buildings have few to no lights. Whatever light there is, it is muffled by curtains or blinds. The night is quiet. Dogs barking in the distance, car horns from the miles-away higway, television sets from within the building walls are all you can hear. There is a van parked nearby. A door slams open further ahead. A band of laughing people a lot taller than Koitsumi bursts out onto the street. They carry miscellania upon their shoulders: TV's, recorders, a cart packed full with large, hard-to-push cardboard boxes. The building they walk out of is wasted a lot more than all the others. The looters are cleaning up after the rioters. There is blood on their shoes. Their eyes, hidden under hoods and behind glasses and under scarves and behind crazed, angry, startled, blood red, hostile looks catch glimpse of him. They go quiet, smiling, laughing, giving nods and elbows at each other.

Koitsumi walks faster. He can only smile at them.

"Hey, hey, shorty!" someone rolls down the window and calls from the passenger's seat of the van.
"Over here, short-stuff, in the car"
"You deef, man?"
"You too good to talk?"
"Too short to know any better"
"Talkin' to ya, punk"
"Toss ******** you, ********' ******** you up..."
"You retarded or something?"
"Stop the car"
"What?"
"Stop the car, man!"

There is a screech as the van parks right on the sidewalk, cutting Koitsumi off and making him leap back. It only took seconds. Doors open and shut. Footsteps fall upon concrete grass. Sneakers squeak. Smiles crack on the faces of all present. Koitsumi finds himself surrounded.

"Good evening, gentlemen" says Koitsumi.
"Oh, so now the midget talks?" a big guy wearing a cap spoke up.
"Midget meat..."
"Mince meat..."
"Dead meat..."
"The ******** is your problem?"
"Mine? Nothing, nothing at all..."
A hand pushes him from behind.
"What's your problem?"
"Stupid little punk"
"The hell is your problem?"
"You need a beating, you little brat?"
"You don't look like the nerds from around here"
A clang.
"Ah, good to know you're not an idiot. What gave it off: the fact I don't dress like an idiot, or the fact I don't smell like crap?"
"Are you crazy?"
"Crazy fool..."
"Nah, he's just stupid"
"Stupid b***h"
"Too stupid for his own good"
"What kind of a guy wears his underwear on his face? Seriously, guys, you gotta rethink your fashion accessories a little bit"
"Watch your mouth, kid"
"Or what?"
The thug seems to pull a hacksaw from out of nowhere.
"Get him on his knees"
Koitsumi feels hands bigger than his shoulders push him down on the ground. He does not fight it. His smile never disappears from his face.
His eyes dart around at everyone and everything. Drops of sweat begin to well up on his face.
"What, you scared, boy?" says the thug with the hacksaw.
"Scared? No, no, I'm anxious with anticipation... you wouldn't know either of those words, so nevermind"
"I told you to watch your mouth. Now tell me, who the hell are you?"
"Me? I'm nobody. I'm waiting for somebody"
"Warning you, boy. Talk"
"Okay, okay, I'll admit it... your mom likes it up the a**. What can I say?"
The thug jams the end post of the saw into the bridge of Koitsumi's nose.
"Ow, ow... okay, okay, I confess, I'll say it... it was your dad, I meant your dad..."
The thug smacks Koitsumi with the broadside of the end post. Koitsumi laughs. The hacksaw whips at the air as the blade strikes Koitsumi's left shoulder; torn back, it rips the flesh the teeth skewered clean off. Koitsumi clutches it, wincing a bit.
"You're not a nerd; you're not smart at all"
"No, you think?" Koitsumi yells at the thug, "I'm on my knees on a dirty street with a homeless guy threatening me with a hacksaw! So no, I'm not that smart at all!"
"You shoulda shut your mouth"
"You're an embarassment, you filthy gaijin wannabe street trash"

Koitsumi rises suddenly from his knees, spitting right in the face of the hacksaw thug. He is tackled to the ground by at least three other looters. Another loud clang sounds out in the night. Some look up, startled, pulling out guns and kinves... but not the thug with the hacksaw.

"Half-way through this" he hisses, the hacksaw screeching from being slid along the sidewalk next to Koitsumi's scalp, "you're gonna wish you hadn't done that"
"Would it really take you that long? Man, you're the biggest p***y I ever saw"

The cold, wrought iron of the hacksaw pricks at Koitsumi's skin. His heart began to beat faster as they pricked his skin, making a dotted line, signalling the thug where to cut. Drops of blood fall unto the sidewalk. Koitsumi can see the thug's face: tanned, artificial, fanged, dark-eyed, cruel, grinning; all that was missing was a red jumpsuit, forked tongue and a pointed tail to make him who he really was (a flaming homosexual, thought Koitsumi). The hacksaw inches forward. It digs into the skin. The smell of rust makes Koitsumi's heart give a somersault in his chest.

A nearby pull-down sign flips in it's rod as a looter falls unto the sidewalk, unconscious, gun falling down and going off from the impact.

"Who the hell is that?"
"I don't care, shoot!"

Gunfire erupts in the night air. The three looters suddenly get up from Koitsumi's arms and back. Koitsumi's head snaps up. The first thing he sees is the back of the thug's back. His kneecaps scrape against the denim of his jeans as he hoists himself up, almost as if proposing to whoever had arrived. His hands reach out at the thug. The thug's legs give out, hit by Koitsumi's foot; the hacksaw is wrenched from his hand, his mind in other business; Koitsumi's free hand clutches the thug's chin, lifting the head up, exposing the neckline. Immediately, the thug's hands fly to his neck. The struggling is kept at a minimum by Koitsumi's foot, firmly planted on the leg. The thug's objections are muffled by Koitsumi's hand. The other flails about, unable to find footing. The back is kept straight by Koitsumi's knee... The hacksaw becomes stuck often. Koitsumi's arm tires. The hand holding the thug's chin up does is untouched, strangely. Koitsumi cries out, the saw becoming unbearably hard to push and pull.

But eventually, the thug seizes his flailing. The hacksaw's blade snaps as Koitsumi pulls it upward from the thug's neck. Koitsumi discards it. As the hacksaw falls to the ground, a baseball bat crashes onto the top of Koitsumi's scalp. Koitsumi collapses, still conscious, a sharp pain occupying the bridge of his nose. The bat crashes on his face at least four more times, a crack heard each time, before it stopped. The looter stalled after the fourth, dropping it and running into a nearby alley. Meanwhile, Koitsumi's vision blurred, and his eyes often rolled into the back of his head.

"Oh, jeez, it's you again" a voice says, "God damn it..."
Koitsumi's arm is the first thing grabbed. Pulled on, Koitsumi's limp torso rises, and another arm grabs onto the back.
"Come on, get up... I know you're not out yet..."
Koitsumi manages a limp. For some reason, his 135 pound weight does not deter his helper from managing a smooth stride.
"You should be more careful, you know. This is the second time you allow this to happen to you. You're reckless..."
"Shtadglefif... sssshourt..." Koitsumi mumbles, blood pouring out of his ruined mouth.
"Why, thank you"
"Nieyyyyttt.... Shhhttpppp..."
"I know it hurts. Just up the steps..."
"No, not... not that..."
"Let me set you down on the..."
"I could not stop for death, for he beat my face in..."

"We must kill them. We must incinerate them. Pig after pig. Cow after cow. Village after village. Army after army..."

"We went back there, and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember … I … I … I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized … like I was shot … like I was shot with a diamond … a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God … the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men …"

---------

 

[Comrade Texidor]

IX. DARLING

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men

T.S. Eliot, THE HOLLOW MEN

Fortress Aphrodite was a place of a strange beauty. Walking on the sand and rock and the jagged earth, you scald your feet. Stalagmites in the open air rise higher than the mountains, the weapons of Venus, every unwary soul falling on them, stuck forever. No trees; the heat does not allow such a falseness of life. There need not be any life for something to be beautiful, perhaps? The fierce orange hue given off from everywhere, like powdered sunshine, glowed and burned itself to a near crisp. It was a contrast to the pitch-black sky, laden with stars and the galaxies and the other planets and the sun, dominant over them all. The air was heavy and laced with the smell of sunflowers set on fire. The fortress was all garnets and jaspers, a treasure come to life and emerged from the depths of the planet. A harsh, harsh beauty... a striking, passionate beauty Venus has.

The halls of Aphrodite make the space about you the same orange color as it's own. Orange skin, orange eyes, orange clothes, orange hair, even an orange tongue. Torah finds it amusing: he likes to call Venus "The Pumpkin Queen", which she doesn't like at all. She was there, in her pseudo-throne room, sitting upon a big puffy chair, chin on her fist, a look of irredeemable boredom spread all over her face. The Canis Insurrection had left her with nothing to do for a good long while. She, like the other Soldiers, had been put on Vanguard duty, and ever since she'd spent her days in bitterly frustrated lonelyness, separated from those she considered her closest friends. Luckily, Torah's arrival seemed to ellicit a sort of rejuvenation within her, as she sprung from her "throne" to embrace him as warmly as only the closest of friends would welcome each other. She cried over how she'd missed him so, and proceeded to shower him with kisses all over his face, no area of skin left untouched by her lips.

"Yes... could... yes, nice t-... to see you... would you just stop?" he splutters.
"Do you have any clue at all how I've missed you?" she says, breathing into his neck.
"I didn't. But now, I'm quite sure I've some idea. Otherwise, I've gone daffy"
"Really? I thought it had happened before." She let him go.
"But, truly, I've missed you as well, my dear" he said.
Her eyes met with his. Their smiles were almost identical. "Oh..." she sighed.
"Uh... I do believe we've done this before" he says, finding himself embraced once more.
"And we shall do it forever-after, as many times fate permits! Come"
She walked him to her throne and sat him down, clapping for her servants.
"How have you been?" he asks of her. She kneels across him, taking his hands in hers.
She wears sequined gloves, pure white, tinted with a rosy red. "Well..."
"Well? Or well something else? Either way, you don't sound so well at all"
"It's just... I've felt so alone, I can't bear it. Do you bring any news from the Serene Land?"
"Actually... it's why I've come"
"Not to visit me? You lie"
"In part, yes, I do. How could I forget about you?"
"It's quite easy, actually: I had many friends. I've barely heard of any of them for a good long while"
"Have you ever considered it's for a good reason?"
"Why, is something wrong?"
"It's been happening all over the Kingdom; everyone is ruffled. Don't know why..."
"Torah, that's not news; the Kingdom has always been 'riled up'"
"I find a tone of insult in that"
"Good ear; but you must admit, Earth has been the source for much of it"
"So you heard about my little proposal?"
"I'm sorry, dear, but it's ridiculously hopeless! And to think I helped you..."
"I appreciate your help any way, any place, no matter the outcome"
"Yes, but the shame would lie with me... But I guess it's you that really suffers, you poor thing"
"I'm not too dissapointed"
"You were doing what you thought was best for your people. It's understandable... on certain levels"
"On the correct levels"
"It was reasonable enough, if you ask me..."
"I asked the Queen"
"Oh! Endymion got it in for you? Oh, how grand!"
"You are happy about it?"
"Do you know what this means? Serenity now knows of your plight. She's sure to do something about it now..."
"Something about it? She did everything about it!"
"Although, I'm left wondering how hard she laughed"
"Too hard, or not hard enough"
"Darling, whatever do you mean with all this talk?"
"Haven't you been listening? She passed it"
"Oh, hush; you shouldn't joke like that"
"I'm not joking; And I feel it's going to have to come to effect"
"I'm serious"
"I'm serious! Why don't you believe me?"
"Because you wouldn't... you wouldn't do such a thing"
"I wouldn't..."
"You... you... you've..."
"I must do it"

She slaps him. He recoils, greatly disoriented, startled a bit at how hard the blow was. But he does not fight back. He feels as if this isn't her acting, merely her anger and confusion. He does not believe, then, when she hits him again, the same hand she used before closed tight into a fist. Teeth fall out along with his body as it slumps off the big chair. At first, Venus does nothing. When Torah tries to get up but is too dazed to stand, she becomes startled and walks away from him. He regains his composure. He follows her. All the way out of the halls and out onto the grand expanses of sand the two roam. Venus stops at the highest dune of them all, looking up into the sky. Torah walks up next to her and looks up as well. She then looks at him.

"Forgive me... I don't know what I'm feeling"
"There is nothing to forgive; it is you who must forgive me"
"No... no... I understand why you do it. You want your people to feel safe"
"Why are you so sure of this?"
"Haven't I known you all these years?"
"I suppose the pain is meant to say 'yes'?"
She laughs. "You always ask me... why is it I'm so attracted to you"
"You hate that"
"No! I... I think it's quite flattering"
"Really? And yet I've never had an answer..."
"I've never met another like you"
"Ha, I'll bet on that" he says in a dissafected murmur
"It's true"
"How so? Why do you think I am so much more different?"
"You see... before you, all these men..."
"You've already lost the bet..." Torah says in sing-song.
She laughs again. "No... it's just that all these men before you... all these silly, girly boys before you, they were all the same. They loved me and I loved them. They wooed me and they bought me and they serenaded me to no end. But it wasn't love... Nay, they lusted for my attentions and I lusted for their attentions. I wanted to believe it was love. I really did. But soon the illusion would dissipate. I'd grow bored with them. And then... I'd grow lonely. And I'd find the next. And then I'd be lonely again when I sent them away... But..."
A long silence. "But?" blurts Torah, very interested at this point.
"But you... you weren't girly. You were curt and cold and quiet and shy.
You never spoke once the day we met... but you looked at me.
Your eyes met mine so many times... you made me blush so intensely.
I noticed you. I remembered you.
And when I called on you to visit, they'd be so short...
And when I saw you leave one day, it wasn't lonelyness I felt; no... I felt... I felt... I felt... dark. It was a dreary, horrible feeling...
It was as if there were darkness in my heart. As if I were possessed.
As if I'd committed some great evil; against myself, against everyone.
I felt so ashamed... so embittered. I... I... I wept.
Because... I knew... I knew you did not weep one tear for me.
I felt like I would be alone forever.
I felt... as if I'd be carried away into the darkness to never see light again.
I felt as if... if you'd die, I would die as well.
You caused me pain. No one before had done that... No one"

He was stiffer than a board. His voice was almost hoarse.
"How can you love me? How can you love a man that causes you to suffer?"
"I'm no stranger to suffering. Misery is a dearest friend of mine.
But... he does not like you. Not at all. He tells me you are no good for me.
And, oh, I've heard misery speak to me for far too long.
I've loved in vain far too long. You didn't love me then, but you love me now.
Love is so new to me.
I've just barely felt the sweet caresses and the tender kisses and the warmth and joy...
Oh, I beg you, darling... don't take it away. Don't leave me... don't leave..."

***
Oh, I love my darling, but my darling doesn't love me
I can't stand to be without him, I just can't leave him be
Oh, how I love him, but he doesn't love me
I love him so, that my life isn't what it used to be
Oh, my darling has his heart under a screen
Don't he like to use it, don't he like to see me pleased?
I don't mind it, when I get beat
I get to see him weep, I get to hear him scream
Don't cry now, my dear, I now see your tears, and they're quite real
You know you'll always have me by—your—side

Better he'd kill me than to have it on his mind
Better he'd kill me, that way I—won't—have—to—cry—
***

 

[Comrade Texidor]

X. CATS

IF I HAD KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT, I WOULDN'T BE HERE

From a sign Benito Mussolini mounted under a fish he caught

Within us all lies a soul that we barely use, and yet we feel it's pain. We do not put our souls to good use. They are only there to sustain the injury given to us. If we look inside of us, we will see our will, our courage, our pride: bruised, injured, beaten, wasted, tattered and shamed, like the rags worn by only the poorest of peoples. It is the folly of those whom have not fought in wars, those whom have not been beaten around the legs or about the head or beaten down; such is the folly of the rich and poor: the proud and the brave all die while the cowards and the frightened and the heartbroken are very much alive. A damning shame; such is the folly of man. But, one must suppose: weltings of the skin are felt in the soul as well?

But now, it does not matter. Now, Koitsumi does not feel pain at all. Instead, he feels something quite the opposite. A cold, watery sensation runs throughout his arms and chest all the way down to his fingers. He shivers, but it feels better than pain nonetheless. He can't breathe through his nose. There is something covering his eyes. One of his arms seems stuck to his torso. When he tries to get up, his back is so stiff it's not even funny. His mouth, however, is free, along with his right arm. He gropes about, trying to find something that isn't bed, railing, or sheet.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he cries.
"Minako, he's awake!" a voice calls.
"Who's there?"
"Minako!"
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"Nobody, now hush. Usagi, get in here!"
"Tell me, damn it: where am I?"
"Oh, just be quiet..."
"Bite me, man. Help me up! You're under damn arrest!"
"..." a long silence.
"Hello? Are you still there? Help me! Help me get up!"
"Uh... hello?"
"Yes, hello! Get me up! I have to go, damn it!"
".... you can understand what I'm saying"
"Of course I frickin' can, why couldn't I?"
".... a few reasons you shouldn't"
"Help! Someone help me, I've been kidnapped! Heeeaaalp!"
"Be quiet. Be quiet, damn you!"
"Look... just stay calm, man. I'm a police officer. I got backup..."
"You were found lying on the side of the street with your face beaten in"
"Look..."
"Don't try to fool me, officer. Listen to what I have to say and this wil be all the easier for you"
"Alright, fine"
"You're not to mention you're a cop to the girls. If you do, I swear, I will have them kill you"
"Are you Zaibatsu?"
"... Not exactly"
"What's going on up there?"
"He's awake, Usagi. Tell everyone to come up"
"Just a second, I need to shake off my mom and dad"

Something lands on Koitsumi's chest. Someone grasps ahold of what is covering his eyes. Someone rips it off... something stands on his stomach, holding what seems to be a bandage. It is a cat; a snowy white cat, of eveyrthing Koitsumi wanted to be around. It has big blue eyes and a moon on it's forehead.

"Now, do we have an accord?"
"..."
"Well? I swear that these girls will kill you if I tell them to"
"I... hear you"
"Excellent. Now..."
"You're talking"
"Yes, and that's why..."
"You're talking to me"
"Yes, what else would I be doing?"
"You're a cat that's talking to me"
"You were expecting something else?"
"Quite honestly, a white guy with an afro"
"What..."
"Where am I?"
"In a house. It's all I'm allowed to tell you"
"A teenager's house?"
"... No"
"What happened?"
"You've suffered many injuries. You're lucky to be alive and without pain"
"Obviously; there's a cat talking to me"
A door closes in the distance. "Pretend you are sleeping"

Something lands on Koitsumi's chest, startling him. However, as a shuffle of loud thuds sound out as the door to the room, he feels compelled to silence. The door flies open, and in pack what appears to be a group of people. They are entirely silent. The air in the room is extremely tense. Koitsumi can't feel but gulp. He feigns discomfort, and buries his head under the pillows.

"Was he awake?" a girl asks.
"No. He's on his way, though" says the cat's voice.
"Anyone know what his name is?" another girl asks.
"He said his name was Hiroto Koitsumi, but I'm not really sure"
Koitsumi's heart did a cartwheel. "Methinks he's a cop"
"If he's a cop, we should kill him"
"No, we shouldn't. He hasn't done anything to us"
"No, no, see, he hasn't done anything to us yet"
"She's right"
"Don't you see, guys? He's not just a danger to us; what about our families?"
"They won't be implicated..."
"How the heck do you know that, Mako-chan? Have you even been watching the news?"
"Last week you said that the news was corrupted and all lies"
"Trust me; they like to brag about keeping their precious order"
"Point taken; he's a danger alright... but what do we do with him?"
"Simple; Mina, hand me that knife on the counter"
"Mina, don't hand it to her..."
"Mina, you ditz! Now she's gonna kill him..."

Someone took Koitsumi by the face and pressed his lips flat. Koitsumi kept completely stiff, still feigning sleep. The second he felt the dirty, crusty, cold steel of a knife that smelled like blowfish cut into the inside middle of his mouth, he can't bear it.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" he says. He tastes blood.
"I had a feeling he was awake" says the girl with the knife.
"Are you insane?"
"That's what everyone tells me. Mina, I thought you said he was out cold"
"He was" says Mina.
"Damn, you didn't have to scare him half to Hell" says a girl in the corner
"Yeah, well, he deserved it, the despicable little weasel"
"God, what happened to his face?" says another girl.
"Seems as if he was assaulted, don't you think?"
"I don't think she needed you to tell her that... I figure"
"Oh, bite me"
"No thanks; I'd rather take a bite out of Mamoru"
They all laugh.
"Ladies!"
They all look at Koitsumi. "Who the hell are you?"

Before any of them can speak, another voice sounds off. This one is distant, as if coming from an odd angle. Koitsumi looked about until he twisted to look behind him at the bed's heading: balanced atop it was another cat. This cat was dark in color, with big red eyes of sincere reproach and distrust. Koitsumi merely stared.

"You know damn well who they are"
"... I suppose"
"No, no, you know who they are. You can't keep your secrets any longer"
"Secrets?"
"Yes. No more secrets, I'm afraid, between you and us"
"You're talking to me"
"Well, yes. What else would I be doing?"
"Meowing?"
"You're confused"
"I know I am"
"Or are you?"
"I'm wondering... what secrets?"
"You are an undercover police officer. You are tracking down the Sailor Senshi"
"Yes"
"Do you feel close to them?"
"I guessed as much"
"How so?"
"The other guy was talking to me too. He said I'm not supposed to hear him"

The cat looked up at the girls in the room. Koitsumi looked as well. Their faces were all amazement. Two of them had hands over their mouths, the other two looked angry, and Mina was laughing under her breath.

"Artemis, why didn't you tell them?" the black cat asks.
"I just thought..." the white cat speaks
"Luna, you have to admit... this is kind of weird" says Mina
"'Kind of weird'? He can understand them, Mina!" says a big girl.
"Another remnant? That's... that can't be true"
"Why is it a man?"
"Oh, perfect. We just need the fuzz on us 24/7..."
"So that's why you followed me from school"
"Everyone else out" says the black cat.
"Luna... you don't have to..."
"I said out. Take them out, Usagi"
"Um... 'kay. Guys... just for a sec..."

They all file out, looking over their shoulders, whispering, murmuring, giggling. The cat's voice is grave and darkened. Koitsumi looks up at the ceiling. It is patched, as if there were a hole before there. He closes his eyes once again. He can't see them when they speak to him.

"Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you're in?" the black cat says.
"Story of my life" says Koitsumi.