Enter the underworld of Osaka, a place of corruption, prostitution, drugs, organized crime, and violence. Former police officer Kyoko Nakamura dedicated her life to protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. But after learning firsthand how little the system cares about people who fall through the cracks, Kyoko made it her mission to be the one person those people can count on. Now, with the assistance of her colleagues, the Nakamura Detective Agency serves as the one ray of light in the seedy underbelly of one of Japan’s biggest cities.
Hopeless
Some things can't be helped
Before the agency had a name on the door, there was just Kyoko Nakamura, working alone out of her apartment, taking whatever cases came her way.
Most of them are the same: cheating husbands, suspicious wives, proof that people rarely deserve the trust they ask for. It's not glamorous work, but it pays the bills.
Then a woman named Misaki Kuroyama calls with something different er brother, Shinji, has vanished. He dropped out of school years ago, cut ties with his family, and made a living as a host in one of Osaka's late-night clubs. The police have already written him off as a runaway. Misaki hasn't, and she's willing to pay far more than the case is worth to prove it.
For a former cop turned private investigator, it's a chance to do the kind of work she actually misses—real investigation, not just surveillance photos and paperwork. But Osaka's mizu-shobai nightlife doesn't give up its secrets easily, and the deeper Kyoko digs into Shinji's disappearance, the more she suspects Misaki hasn't told her everything.
A tightly-wound short story set before Fallen Idol, Hopeless is a glimpse into Kyoko Nakamura's early days as a solo investigator — sharp, world-weary, and already too good at reading the lies people tell themselves. Perfect for readers who want to meet Kyoko before the case that changes everything.
Previously published in The Dame Did It anthology, available free with your email sign-up
Kyoko Nakamura lowered the Seven Stars cigarette to the tray and tapped it with her thumb to discard the loose ash from the smoldering end. With her head lowered slightly, her long, dark hair masked her face. An attractive woman in her mid-thirties, who could easily make herself look ten years younger when she chose to apply make-up.
But tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Tonight she sat in a corner of the fifth-floor shot bar, the counter up against the window overlooking Osaka’s Namba neighborhood. Kyoko raised the highball to her lips and sipped it slowly, staring at her reflection in the window. In that reflection, she saw another woman approaching her. This woman wore a long skirt with a fashionable top and her handbag looked like it cost more than the rent Kyoko paid on her small apartment. The woman was quite a distinction from Kyoko’s burgundy top, jeans, and beat-up leather jacket.
Setting the drink down, she stared at the woman’s reflection. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said while offering a slight bow. “Did we have to meet here?”
“I like it here,” said Kyoko with a shrug. “Do you want something to drink?”
The woman shook her head. “No, no thank you, Ms. Nakamura. I’d just like to know what you discovered, if you don’t mind.”
“Have a seat.” Kyoko reached for the bag beside her chair and brought it onto her lap. She procured a black, plastic folder and laid it on the table. The woman carefully sat in the tall chair next to Kyoko and stared at the folder. She reached for it, but Kyoko placed her hand on top of the folder. The woman looked up and saw Kyoko staring at her with some sympathy in her eyes.
“Before you look at this, I want you to know something,” said Kyoko. “You paid me to follow your husband, but it’s your choice whether or not you actually want to see what I found out.”
“Do you think I shouldn’t?”
Kyoko shook her head. “I can’t answer that. You need to decide for yourself. Some people can’t live with not knowing, they need certainty. But sometimes, that certainty can be far worse than paranoid suspicions. Some people can’t live with that knowledge.”
The woman’s eyes drifted back to the folder with Kyoko’s hand resting on top of it. She took a deep breath and offered a meek nod. “I think…I have to know the truth. I can’t live with the suspicion.”
“If you’re sure.” Kyoko removed her hand from the folder and the woman reached for it. She pulled the documents and the photos out and looked over them. The woman gasped at the images.
“Judging by the financial statements, it seems he’s been seeing her for at least a year,” said Kyoko. “He’s also paying the rent on her apartment.”
Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes beginning to tear up. “I-I know her…she works at his company…met her at a function one night…”
Kyoko sighed. “There’s more, I’m afraid. Keep looking.”
The woman shuffled through the documents and then she stumbled upon it. Photos of the two of them entering a women’s clinic. “Judging by her increase in weight, I’d say she’s pregnant.”
The documents and photographs fell from her hands, hitting her lap and scattering over the area. It took her a moment to realize that she’d dropped them and by that time, Kyoko was already collecting and collating them once more.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“It’s fine. I can destroy these if you’d like.”
“No…I want to hold onto them.”
Kyoko nodded and placed them back in the folder. She reached for her cigarette and took a drag on it. “Would you like that drink now?”
Her client shook her head, taking the folder and placing it in her handbag. She was clutching the bag so tightly, her knuckles began to whiten. “No…I think I should just go home…”
“What will you do? Confront him?”
“I don’t know…I need to think about it. I’m just a housewife, I don’t know if I’d be able to survive out there without him.”
“I understand,” said Kyoko. “Shikata ga nai.”
“Yes, shikata ga nai,” the woman repeated as she stood. “Thank you, Nakamura-san. I’ll have the rest of your fee wired to your account tomorrow.”
Kyoko sipped her highball, watching through the window’s reflection as her now-former client left the shot bar. Once she finished the drink, she signaled to the bartender to refill it and looked out over Shinsekai, thinking about her final words to the woman.
Shikata ga nai—a common Japanese phrase meaning the situation couldn’t be helped—hopeless could be used to sum it up. As a private investigator, those situations were unfortunately how Kyoko Nakamura made her living.
Neon lights, a cold case...and a colder truth
Kyoko Nakamura didn't leave the police force to babysit cheating spouses and run background checks—but that's the reality of private investigation in Japan, and it's what pays the bills at the small agency she runs out of a cramped sixth-floor office in Osaka's Namba district. No dramatic shootouts, no Hollywood theatrics. Just patience, cigarettes, and knowing how to read people.
Then a grieving couple walks through her door with a case that doesn't fit the mold.
Their daughter, Akane Suzuki, was once a rising idol, adored by fans across Japan—until a scandal ended her career and sent her spiraling into obscurity. When she's found dead after a fall from her apartment balcony, the police rule it a suicide and move on. Her parents refuse to accept it, and a tip from an old contact on the force convinces Kyoko there might be more to the story.
What begins as a favor becomes Kyoko's most dangerous investigation yet. As she digs into Akane's final weeks, she's pulled into the dark corners of the entertainment industry—an image-obsessed world of has-been stars, ruthless management, and people who know exactly how to make inconvenient truths disappear. The more Kyoko uncovers, the more it's clear that the official story doesn't hold up.
With her instincts as a detective clashing against the ghosts of her time on the force, Kyoko has to decide how far she's willing to go for a case nobody asked her to take—and how much she's willing to risk to get the truth for a family that has nowhere else to turn.
Sharp, atmospheric, and grounded in the neon-lit reality of Osaka's underbelly, Fallen Idol introduces Kyoko Nakamura, a detective as skilled at reading a room as she is at refusing to let a case go. If you like hard-boiled mysteries with a distinct sense of place and a lead character who carries every scene, this is the start of a series worth following. From Percival Constantine, author of the Luther Cross series.
The cheap vodka burned a path down Akane Suzuki’s throat. She coughed after swallowing the last drop of alcohol and set the glass down on the tatami-mat floor. Akane raised the bottle to eye level. Focusing on the label was difficult—it seemed to be intentionally moving.
Taunting her.
“Baka da yo,” she grumbled, then lifted the glass to refill it. Setting the bottle’s lip on the edge of the glass, her hand shook as the liquid poured in, splashing on her wrist.
Akane put the bottle on the tatami and took another long drink from the glass. Standing from the futon spread out on the tatami floor, Akane walked over to the stereo and hit the play button.
Bouncy, upbeat pop music blared through the speakers. Akane nearly stumbled as she crossed the short distance from the stereo back to the futon. She plopped down on the bedding, more vodka spilling over her hand as she did.
Akane swayed to the beat, tears forming in her eyes as she did. At first, she only lip-synced the words. But after a few more sips, she started singing them herself. Her voice matched one of the five singers perfectly.
“‘We were both exciting when I first saw you…You write a letter and the flashback starts…’”
Akane started crying as she tried to sing along to the lyrics. She finished the drink and poured herself another. After taking a fresh sip, she cringed and held the bottle up to examine it once again.
The same cheap, off-brand vodka she usually bought. Only a few hundred yen. But why did it taste funny? Did it go bad? Could vodka go bad?
Forget it, just keep drinking. She took a bigger sip—more a gulp—and continued singing.
What happened to her? To her life? Akane rose from the futon, stumbling to the stereo and looking at the pictures pinned to her wall. It was lined with purikura pictures, special photo booths frequented by many girls in Japan. Some of them were photos of her and her friends from high school. Others featured her with a young, handsome man whose hair was dyed a golden color.
Many featured her with her former bandmates. The same girls who graced the cover of the CD lying atop the stereo. Akane picked up the CD case and looked at herself. Dressed in a school uniform, back-to-back with her headlining colleague. The other three girls flanking the two of them. The word ‘Koibito’ written across the top in colorful, rounded katakana characters.
Aka and Aya they were called. Even when things were tough, despite the times they were at each other’s throats, Akane always felt like she could trust Ayano.
That smile Akane wore on the CD cover. Akane couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled an actual smile, let alone one that large. Before it all went downhill. Before she threw away her career for what she thought was love.
Akane screamed and threw the CD case across the room. It hit the balcony doors and the two halves split at the hinge. She ejected the CD, shouting and cursing at it as she snapped it in half.
The glass was empty again. Akane stumbled to the futon and fell right onto it. She felt weak, like the bottle had somehow gotten heavier. Still, she managed to refill the glass, but it slipped from her hand and landed on its side. The alcohol seeped from the glass, spreading out along the tatami.
Who needs a glass anyway? Her lips wrapped around the bottle and she tipped her head back. It burned going down. When the bottle was finished, Akane let it fall to the floor.
Why was it so hot in here? She crawled across her futon, moving towards the balcony. Akane raised her hand up, trying to grab the latch and using it to pull herself up. She flipped open the latch and tugged at the door.
It felt so heavy.
The room was spinning. But she just needed some fresh air. Akane pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the balcony, striking the railing. The night lights of Osaka’s Shinsekai neighborhood blurred and she blinked, trying in vain to bring them into focus.
A pain stabbed through her stomach. Like that time she had food poisoning after eating some bad sushi she bought from the convenience store. Vodka was a bad idea, she realized, feeling it surge its way back up her throat. Akane bent over the railing and threw up. She had barely eaten anything, so it was mostly just vodka and stomach acid that flew from her mouth and down the eight stories towards the street below.
Her heart pounded against her chest. Akane looked at her hand and noticed it was shaking, moving in and out of focus. She pushed herself away from the railing, her back slamming against the wall. The pain was great and she screamed.
She could hear a pounding noise—thump, thump. Thump, thump. Her creepy neighbor. Akane shouted right back at him. “Go to hell, you old bastard!”
The pounding continued and Akane fell to her knees, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. Why was it so hot today? Wasn’t it supposed to be fall? She breathed heavily, finding each successive breath even harder to take in than the one before.
It was a few moments of sitting like that, the entire world spinning around her, before Akane realized that the pounding wasn’t coming from next door. No, it was her own heart. Thump, thump. She opened her eyes, but the vertigo had gotten even worse. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Akane rose to her feet and stumbled, grabbing the rail. She looked over the edge and down to the street below and laughed. That would have been bad, tripping and falling over the railing.
But would it have been such a bad thing? To just jump? To finally put an end to everything? No more struggle, no more doing things she hated for money. Just finally being at peace.
She held onto the railing and stared over the edge. There were bicycles chained to a rack in the small alley, but they kept moving from side to side. Akane squinted, trying to bring them into focus. Leaning further over, using her shaking hands to grip the railing.
Then, she felt free. Like she was flying. Akane laughed for a moment.
After that moment, there was nothing.
The girls walk for money... He walks for the kill
In Osaka's neon-soaked Shinsekai district, men pay to walk the streets with girls dressed as high schoolers—a compensated "date" that's prostitution in every way but name. It's supposed to end with cash changing hands. For one girl, it ends in a cheap hotel room, strangled, with a killer's cryptic mark carved into her palm.
Private investigator Kyoko Nakamura is still riding the wave of notoriety from proving the Akane Suzuki case was murder, not suicide—a win that embarrassed the Osaka Prefectural Police and made her exactly as popular with them as you'd expect. So when Yukari Fukuda, who runs a shelter for runaway girls, comes to Kyoko convinced the police won't lift a finger for another dead "JK" girl, Kyoko can't say no. Not when the victim could have been any of the girls Yukari's spent her life trying to save.
Getting looped into the investigation puts Kyoko against a rising star in the police department who has more ambition than instinct, and would love nothing more than to watch Kyoko fail in public. It also means leaning on her old mentor and the fraying trust between them. And Kyoko must enter places no badge can get her—into the shadows of Shinsekai, where runaways and working girls know better than to talk to cops, but might just talk to her.
But as the body count rises and the killer's marks grow bolder, Kyoko realizes this isn't a crime of opportunity. Someone is hunting girls that the world already stopped protecting—methodically, deliberately, and with a message he's daring someone to decode before he strikes again.
Murder Walk is the pulse-pounding second entry in the Nakamura Detective Agency series. Take a hardboiled dive into Osaka's red-light underworld where justice is scarce, respectability is a luxury few victims are afforded, and Kyoko Nakamura is the only one still willing to look. From Percival Constantine, author of the Luther Cross series.
Shinsekai at night, a place where if you had the cash, you could find just about anything you desired. As he walked through the alleys and winding roads making up the Osaka district, his eyes avoided the neon-lit signs advertising hostess clubs and cabaret bars. Passed by the massage parlors. His gaze never lingered once on any of the young women standing on the streets, wearing dresses in bright primary colors—low-cut necks, hemmed around mid-thigh. Makeup caked on their faces.
Painted whores, every last one of them.
No, he had something else in mind. This place disgusted him, but there was purpose in coming here. A reason for him to move through this pit. He knew he was tainting his own soul just by setting foot on these streets, but sacrifices had to be made.
He felt a vibration against his leg. Without pausing his stride, he reached his hand into the pocket and took out a smartphone. On the backlit screen was a message:
I’m here, where are you?
On my way 😍
The phone buzzed again before he had a chance to even put it back in his pocket. The same sender, this time a picture. A cartoon bunny clasping its hands together, a lovestruck expression on its face.
He scoffed and put the phone back in his pocket. She had no idea what she was in for.
When he turned the next corner, he saw her off in the distance, standing in front of a set of vending machines. Her hair was blond and she wore a button-down white shirt, open down to her cleavage, leaving just a hint of the black bra she wore beneath. Black socks ended just below her knees. Her gray, pleated skirt barely covered her—had she bent over even a little, she would flash her panties at the entire street.
And judging from the kind of people milling about, they would enjoy it.
She held a smartphone in her hand, her fingertips adorned with long, fake nails, with a purse hanging from a strap over her shoulder. As she brushed a few strands of hair from her face, she turned her head and looked in his direction. Of course, she didn’t know who she was looking for.
But he knew she was the one. He’d been watching her on these streets. Waiting. Planning. Watching as night after night, she wandered around, always a different man on her arms. Always one who was at least old enough to be her father, if not her grandfather.
Her face was just as dolled up as the other whores in Shinsekai. Lips red as blood, cheeks with a hint of pink, and eyeshadow that made the blue contact lenses she wore stand out even more.
There was not one inch of her that wasn’t artificial.
The time had come. He’d planned for this. Fantasized about this. So why, when he sent a signal to his legs, did they refuse to move? The desire was strong. He could already feel his pulse increasing, the blood rushing to his loins and a tightness in his pants. His lips parted slightly as his breaths came in shorter and faster.
You can’t back out now. Not after all this. You have to see it through to the end.
He inhaled a lungful of air through his nostrils. With his eyes closed, he held it in for a moment before finally breathing out slowly. That helped his nerves somewhat. When he opened his eyes, he now took a step towards her.
The distance between them wasn’t far. But with each step he took, it felt like the gap increased. Her head kept swiveling from side to side, then going back to her phone. His eyes traveled down her body as he approached, lingering on her breasts and the black bra teasing through her white shirt.
Her head turned again and when she spotted him, her eyes lingered. She tipped her head to the side and then she smiled. Happy to see him? Or happy to have a client? It didn’t matter which.
“Shiro?” she asked.
He opened his mouth. No sound came forth. A pause. He looked down at the ground. His cheeks had no doubt reddened. Why was he so nervous?
“Are you Shiro?”
He managed a nod this time. Of course, his name wasn’t really Shiro. But she didn’t know that. She flashed a smile at him and bowed, lingering just a bit. No doubt in order to tempt him with her cleavage.
“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”
Shiro returned the bow. This time, he was able to squeak out the word, “Yoroshiku.”
“So, ready to go?”
He tried to speak. A slight noise crept out from his throat, but it couldn’t be described as a word. Don’t fuck this up, do what you came here to do. After closing his mouth for a moment, he managed to speak.
“Hai.” Yes.
She smiled at him, her ruby lips parting to reveal uneven teeth. “Okay, let’s go!”
She pushed up against him, looping her right arm around his left. When she laid her head against his arm, a tingle ran up his body. He couldn’t help the scent of her invading his nose.
His body warmed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He knew what she was. Knew what he had to do tonight. But there was a rush to having her this close to him. Something unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Not like the others.
They walked through the streets. The girl prattled on, her voice high-pitched and her speech rapid. She cycled through topics so fast, he would have felt dizzy if he’d been paying attention. But he couldn’t focus on her words. All he could focus on was her fragrance. Like a spring morning in the countryside. Her touch was electric. Every now and then, she would brush her fingers lightly along his chest and a charge shot through his body. He wanted—no, he craved more.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. But he supposed this would work just as well. He knew where he had to go from here. If he could manage to get the words out.
“I was wondering…”
“Mmm?”
Shiro glanced down and saw her faux blue eyes staring quizzically into his own, the edges of her lips drawn up in a smile. He stopped in his tracks. She circled around in front of him, the smile fading as she examined his face in curiosity.
“What is it, Shiro?” she asked. “You’re pretty quiet. Do you…are you not having a good time with me?”
Shiro shook his head. And in fact, this wasn’t a lie. Just being near her was intoxicating. “No, I just…I was wondering…can we go somewhere?”
She smiled and nodded. “Of course! Where should we go? You wanna do karaoke? Grab something to eat?”
“I was hoping…” Shiro looked away from her, his eyes scanning down the street. They settled on a sign outside a building. The katakana characters spelled out the words LOVE HOTEL. He turned his gaze back to her and saw she was looking at the sign, too.
The girl looked back at him and kept that smile on her face. “Sure! Let’s go!”
She took him by the hand and pulled him down the street. He felt some resistance in his legs, but he pushed forward, walking after her. The automatic doors parted for them once they ascended the single step up to the ledge.
The girl escorted him into the lobby. A board with pictures of rooms was laid out against the wall, each one with a button below. A backlight illuminated the rooms that were vacant. She looked back at Shiro.
“Which one you want?”
He looked over the images. One would do just as good as another. Shiro pressed the button for one of the standard rooms. They went to the elevator and took it up to the appropriate floor. Once stepping into the hall, a light indicated which room was theirs.
She knew the routine, leading him through as if she’d done this a thousand times—which she probably had. The door to the room opened and they entered. The genkan was fairly large and closed off by another door. They removed their shoes and stepped up the level, walking into the room.
A large bed was the centerpiece. The headboard had a series of controls for the room and a flat-panel TV screen was placed in front of it. On the headboard was also a box of tissues and a small plate with three condoms laid out. Shiro’s eyes traveled around the room. There was also a karaoke machine and a massage chair. The door to the shower room was open and he saw a mat pushed up against the wall.
She pulled his attention away from the bathroom by pressing her lips to his. He was surprised at first, but after a moment, he returned the kiss in kind, closing his eyes and sliding his tongue past her lips. His arms embraced her and he could feel her hands exploring his body, sliding up and down his sides, one of them tiptoeing closer to his crotch.
This was happening.
She broke the kiss and took him by the hand, leading him to the bed. After easing him onto it, she started to unbutton her shirt. As she opened it, she pulled the tails out from the waistband of her skirt, revealing the black bra concealing her breasts. She placed one knee on the bed and leaned over him, resting her crotch on his thigh.
The lust overcame him. He knew it shouldn’t have, but it did. Shiro grabbed her and flipped her over on the bed, kissing down her neck as he started undoing his pants. The rush was strong now. His mind swam with sensation. She removed her panties and passed him one of the condoms.
Her body was warm. She welcomed him into her, breathing heavily with each thrust, calling out his fake name. Shiro felt the build-up inside of him and knew the time was coming. The time to accomplish the task he’d set out here for.
Shiro leaned over her, kissed her parted lips one last time, letting the taste of her peach-flavored lip gloss linger. His hands cupped her breasts, relishing the feel of her hard nipples beneath his palms. He traveled upwards, sliding his hands along her chest until they reached her neck. His fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezed.
She gasped, her eyes opening wide. She struggled against him, but each attempt to get him off only caused his grip to tighten. The rush was incredible now and he couldn’t stop thrusting inside her. He could tell she was trying to scream. Her small hands slapped his arms, her nails scratching at him. She drew blood, but he didn’t care.
His pulse raced. The more fight she put up, the more pleasure he experienced. Shiro wanted nothing more than to stretch it out, make it last as long as possible. Waves of euphoria fell over his body. Her strikes grew weaker.
Shiro gasped, his eyelids closing as he reached his own climax.
He fell over her body, lying there for a few moments, just allowing himself to breathe again. When he finally looked up, he stared into her face. Her eyes were closed. He moved his fingers to the side of her neck, feeling along for a pulse.
Nothing.
Shiro pulled out of her and took a tissue from the box. He removed the condom and wrapped it in a tissue, then grabbed his pants and slid it into the pocket. Wouldn’t do to leave something like that behind.
He dressed quickly, staring down at the body. His first in more respects than one.
And he was just getting started.
An entire town stayed silent—she won't
Sixteen-year-old Shoma Mizuno stepped in front of a train and never looked back. The official verdict: suicide. Case closed. His uncle believes there's more to that story.
Private investigator Kyoko Nakamura built her reputation exposing the truths powerful people want buried. Now Koichi Mizuno is asking her to do it again. Dig into his nephew's death and find out if his suspicions were true—Shoma was bullied, the school knew, and everyone from the principal down chose to look the other way.
The trail leads Kyoko back to Kobashigawa High School—her own alma mater—where the halls are the same but the stakes are far higher than they were when she walked them as a student. Principal Haruki Nishizawa runs the school like a fiefdom, more concerned with his golf game with the mayor than a dead student. And the families who might talk are being quietly pressured into silence.
As Kyoko digs deeper, she uncovers a culture of cruelty that didn't start with Shoma and won't end with him either—one built on cover-ups, intimidation, and a town's unwillingness to ask hard questions. With her own family caught in the crossfire and old wounds from her past reopening at every turn, Kyoko has to decide how far she's willing to go to get justice for a boy nobody protected while he was alive.
Dead Silent is the gripping third installment in the Nakamura Detective Agency series, blending hardboiled investigation with the kind of institutional rot that hides in plain sight. Fans of Percival Constantine's Fallen Idol and Murder Walk will find Kyoko Nakamura at her most personally invested yet — and her most dangerous.
Night had already fallen by the time Shoma Mizuno stepped outside Kobashigawa High School in Ibaraki, a suburb northeast of Osaka. The humidity caused his glasses to fog up and he took them off to wipe them on the red tie that was part of his school uniform.
When the sixteen-year-old boy put the glasses back on, he saw three older boys standing near the stone markers that bordered the campus entry, sitting atop mopeds. They were around seventeen or eighteen. The tallest among them had something of a goatee growing and the edges of his dark hair curled out from under the bottom of his knit cap. Another had his hair cut so short to his scalp, he was almost bald. And the third wore his hair in a spiked fashion.
They wore the same Kobashigawa uniform, but unlike Shoma’s, theirs were in states of undress. The jackets were nowhere to be seen, sleeves were rolled out, tails hanging over their pants, and collars open with either a loosened tie or none at all.
Shoma held the straps of his backpack and looked at the ground as he approached the entrance. He could feel their eyes on him, but he tried to do what his uncle told him and just ignore them. There were some nights when they would just let him pass. Shoma hoped this would be one of them.
“Where you off to, kin?” asked the one in the cap. Katsuya Kaito. One of the most popular kids in school, and a star on the Kobashigawa baseball team.
The taunt was Japanese for germ. Shoma ignored it, though he’d been called that name more times in the past six years than he’d been called by his proper one. He wondered if these guys even knew his real name anymore.
Shoma walked past them and turned the corner, heading down the street. He heard the sound of the bikes starting up and quickened his pace a little.
Katsuya called after him. “Slow down, kin. Don’t be rude.”
The bikes revved up and Shoma heard the sound of their engines growing louder. The bald one raced past Shoma and pulled a quick turn to block his path. Yasuo Uchiha, he was Katsuya’s muscle. The one who would usually administer the beatings Shoma received while Katsuya provided the taunts.
“We’re trying to talk to you and you’re not really being very polite,” said Yasuo.
Shoma tried to protest. “I have to go home…the train…”
The other two bikes came to a stop behind him. Shoma looked over his shoulder and saw they were basically locking him into a triangle.
“Guess they don’t have much manners up in Fukushima,” said the third boy. Takumi Obara, basically Katsuya’s little lapdog. Wherever Katsuya went, Takumi was never far behind. Sometimes even echoing the exact same words Katsuya said.
“Please, my uncle’s waiting for me. I’m already running late,” said Shoma.
“Don’t worry about it, kin. We’ll let you go…just as soon as you give us what’s ours,” said Katsuya.
Shoma shook his head. “I-I don’t…I don’t have anything…”
“What about all that money you got from the government? That’s taxpayer money. You’re livin’ off our money, kin. We want it back.”
Katsuya got off his bike and stepped closer to him. Shoma tried to back away, but bumped into Yasuo. The big guy shoved Shoma forward and he stumbled, falling to his knees right in front of Katsuya. The leader knelt down and grabbed Shoma by his hair to pull his head up.
“I’m not gonna ask you again. You give us back our money or we take it out of you.”
“Maybe we could sell him to a pedophile, get our cash that way,” said Takumi.
“Hey, I kinda like that idea,” said Katsuya with a sickening grin. He grabbed Shoma’s chin and squeezed it. “What do you think, kin? You wanna be some pederast’s butt buddy? Earn us back that money you stole from us?”
“Nah, that won’t work,” said Yasuo. “He’s too radioactive. No one would touch him.”
“I-I don’t have any money!”
Katsuya shoved Shoma and he fell on his backpack. Shoma’s heart started pounding. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this, but he knew he had to get out of there. Blood pumped furiously through his veins and he could feel his anxiety heightening. Adrenaline kicked in and Shoma used it to his advantage.
He ran.
Shoma charged forward, pushing past Takumi and running down the street. He could hear Katsuya barking orders to the other two and their bike engines revving. Shoma turned the first corner he could and darted down an alley, then took another narrow street, followed by another.
He raced through the neighborhood of Naka-Sojiji-cho, trying as hard as he could to reach Sojiji Station. Once he got there, he could get on the Hankyu-Kyoto line and he’d be home safe.
That was assuming he made it there before Katsuya and his gang caught up to him.
Shoma’s breathing grew ragged and his legs screamed in pain, but he couldn’t allow himself to stop. He couldn’t hear the bikes over the sound of the other street traffic, but he couldn’t be sure he’d actually lost them. The best thing to do was to keep moving, take a few more random streets before he finally ended up at the station.
It wasn’t the first time Shoma had to take this twisting, curving route to get to the station. He’d had to deal with not only Katsuya, but several bullies in the six years since he’d moved to Ibaraki. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last given everything he’d already been through.
Shoma kept running until he finally made it to Sojiji Station. Almost home free. But then he heard the bikes behind him. Shoma looked over his shoulder and saw Katsuya, Takumi, and Yasuo walking through the main entrance.
He turned around and kept his head down, walking towards the ticket gate. Shoma fumbled in his pocket, looking for the case holding his train pass. He found it and moved with the rest of the crowd, but then it slipped from his grasp. Kneeling down to retrieve it, Shoma’s fingers were just about to grab the holder, but a passing commuter unknowingly kicked it with her foot and sent it flying to the automated ticketing machines.
Shoma sighed and stood, running over to grab the pass. He knelt down and picked it up and just as he stood, he felt a hand on his shoulder. His blood ran cold as he heard Katsuya’s voice whisper in his ear.
“Man, you are one clumsy little shit, aren’t you, kin?”
Shoma turned and saw the gang staring at him. Katsuya moved beside Shoma and draped his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders.
“Listen up, it’s not nice to run from us like that,” he said. “Especially when we were having such a friendly little chat. So what I’m thinkin’ is we need to take you outside, show you a little bit about how people in Kansai treat each other, okay?”
He was running out of time. He had to get to the train, get away from Katsuya and his followers. Shoma only had one chance, but it was a risk. If he messed this up, they’d probably kill him. But he had to try.
Shoma drove his elbow into Katsuya’s stomach and the older bully recoiled, bending over in pain. Yasuo and Takumi were too shocked to really make sense of what had just happened, and that gave Shoma the opening he needed.
The younger high school student darted from the bullies, making a beeline straight for the gate. He pushed his pass to the sensor and the gates opened, granting him access to the platform. Shoma raced out, coming to a stop on the platform and bending over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
He did it. He’d finally gotten away from them. Now he’d get on the train, go home, have a nice dinner with his uncle, and then tomorrow…
Tomorrow…
Dread filled Shoma’s thoughts. Tomorrow would be the same as today. After standing up to Katsuya, it might even prove to be worse. They’d come after him again. Just like before. They’d tease him, beat him up, steal his money, tear up his homework. He’d probably go home and find several taunting messages on social media and in his email.
Six years. Not once in that time had they ever stopped calling him germ or radioactive. Not once did they ever relent in their torment. If anything, it had only gotten worse, especially as Katsuya and his friends had started hanging around with a bosozoku biker gang.
They were predators and he was their prey. Shoma didn’t know what to do. He was too ashamed to tell his uncle the extent of the bullying. He tried to go to the teachers, but…well, they didn’t really give much of a damn about that. They pretended it wasn’t happening.
How much more could he really take? There seemed like no way out.
He heard footsteps and looked over his shoulder. Katsuya and his gang were coming. This time, the beating would be worse than before. Shoma couldn’t face it, not again. He felt a pit in his stomach and he wanted to throw up.
A light in the distance. There was one way out. Probably the only way he could stand now. He didn’t want to leave his uncle alone, but maybe it was for the best. His uncle wouldn’t have to worry about raising a teenager all by himself. And as for Shoma, he could see his parents again. His thoughts drifted back to that day six years ago—March 11th, 2011. The day of the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami.
The day his parents died.
His life had never been the same since. With each passing day, it only got worse. Shoma couldn’t keep this up any longer. Couldn’t face another day of the bullying. He hated Ibaraki, hated Kansai, hated Kobashigawa High. Hated Katsuya and all the other kids at school. Hated the teachers.
The light grew closer. Shoma knew this was the only way out. The only option he had left. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, offering a silent apology to his uncle.
Laughter came from behind him, followed by Katsuya’s taunting voice. “What are you doing, kin? Turn around and look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Shoma didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes closed and ran to the edge of the platform. And he kept running just as the train passed through. The last thing Shoma Mizuno heard were screams of horror from the commuters standing on the platform.
And then, he was gone.
