CH 1: MOJO PIN
It was an especially cool, windy autumn afternoon. The sky was blurred by a gray overcast that settled upon the unassuming suburban town. The local grade school had just gotten out for the day, and scattered across that old residential neighborhood was the chatter and commotion of children running around and playing.
Left and right were pockets of those children picking on one another and being picked on, playing games, and talking about whatever stupid things kids from Tokyo talk about these days. Few parents were available throughout the week to attend to their kids after the bell rang, and they quickly got accustomed to running wild.
What horror those parents may have felt if they saw that standing among these rowdy snot-nosed brats was a mysterious looking man; one with a briefcase in one hand and a magazine in the other.
His appearance was that of a guy you wouldn’t want hanging around innocent kids, and the fact that he was muttering to himself erratically did not help. What made it worse was that those imp-like munchkins knew it too. They started messing with him, hurling all sorts of derogatory names into the air to catch the ear of a suspecting adult in the area.
This shady looking individual had dark hair, and was sporting a five o-clock shadow, tinted shades, and a wrinkly linen overcoat. The man didn’t seem to care much that he was suspicious looking. Quite the opposite, he even began antagonizing some of them as well.
“Stop shouting, ya brats! I am not a deadbeat.., or a pedo! Any of you try that crap again and I’m contacting your parents…especially you, Otto. I’ve known your father since elementary school!” The man shouted back, pointing towards one of the more particularly difficult snot-nosed brats.
“But, Mr. Ito-san, it was my dad who said you were good-for-nothing…not me.” The stupid kid viciously smiled ear to ear, exposing a missing tooth. Ito had no answer, and tried to distance himself from the laughter that followed and rang through his ear.
I really got to move from this neighborhood…, the man thought to himself solemnly. He tried not to go out much during the early afternoon because of this kind of harassment, whether by the kids or nosy neighbors. But he had no choice. He was called in for the job that evening. This routine project needed his particular set of skills, and the pay was his ticket out of this cocoon he had been in all his life.
Placing the magazine in his large coat pocket for a brief second, he exchanged it for an old Walkman paired with some earphones. Checking his watch, he noticed the time; 4:05 PM. He had about 45 minutes left before he arrived at the spot; the least he could do was stay sane before having to do that.
PLAY. The whirls of the windy day were replaced by static white noise, which after a few seconds was followed by a soft but stirring guitar. Entering as if an extension of that guitar’s angelic timbre was a voice akin to Robert Plant but with even greater sensitivity, humming a transporting hymn.
I'm lying in my bed
The blanket is warm
This body will never be safe from harm
Still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal
Touch my skin to keep me whole
He wasn’t the romantic type; well at least that's what he thought the song was about. However, the song’s vibe matched the contemplative mood that afternoon had hexed him with. While walking towards the bus stop, which had to be a little over half a mile from his parent’s home, Ito lamented the sorry state his life was in. Living in your parent’s basement at twenty-nine years of age may not have the same stigma it had a few decades ago, but those around him were confident that he had done nothing to pull himself out of the nest; and his appearance nowadays was good enough to confirm all the biased views they had about him for so many years.
It didn’t help what had just happened with his parents before he left home that day.
They were right about him, of course. To Kazuo Ito, believing otherwise was no help in motivating him to get out of the hole he dug for himself. He just needed a break; an opportunity he could capitalize on. This job was that ticket out.
*Ring* Kazuo felt his phone vibrate through his other pocket. Immersion Broken, he thought as he took out his earphones, forgetting to pause the player.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Here comes another one, Kazuo thought as he set down his briefcase and pulled out his phone; a model that looked like it was popular two decades ago. Noticing the caller ID, Ito composed himself once more, trying to regain the mysterious aura his attire implied.
“Afternoon, my fallen angel, how’s the two week break from my heavenly presence been treating you?” He stated with a robust amount of sarcasm.
“I’ll wait for you to enter first, Kazuo. Enjoy the view; a busted up apartment that even you can’t rent,” the female voice said coldly from the other side of the line before promptly hanging up.
She digs me, Kazuo Ito thought; a television cliché he used to humor himself.
Looking up in the sky to take the gloomy afternoon all in, Kazuo saw a leaf tumbling down towards his face, which he blew away. Finally, he had run into a familiar friend.
The final leaves on the ‘sentinel’ had fallen. That’s what he used to call the large tree in the small park that sat by the bus stop and pedestrian crossing near his home. The almost thirty year old man had given it that title back when he was a kid; a name inspired by whatever sci-fi serial he was into then that time had forgotten.
The tree had been there his whole life. All these years, it had kept watch over children crossing the street with its large branches and all encompassing shade.
Kazuo Ito stood in that now absent shade, waiting for a bus into the city. A meek looking older man was waiting next to him, alongside what he assumed was his school age granddaughter. Surprisingly, the shady, ragged-looking man felt friendly enough to start a conversation with them both.
“Good afternoon sir. I’m sorry, but do you remember when there used to be a swing on this tree? Now all that’s left are some rusty nails, but back in the day, my friends and I would fight over who would get to swing on it when hung out here. Man…those were good times.” The man’s genuine smile washed away much of the apprehension. The grandfather smiled back, and nodded. The little girl, no longer attaching herself to her grandfather’s leg, took notice of the magazine Kazuo barely hidden within his coat pocket.
“Hey mister, you read V-Across too?! I thought old people only watched the news..” the little girl said, sparkling with excitement. Before Kazuo could even respond, the grandfather interjected.
“Don’t bother the young man, Haruko. It's probably for his own kids. Isn’t that right…Ah! Now I remember you! You’re Kazuo aren’t you?” The old man’s face lit up.
“I used to monitor the crosswalk when you were just a wee boy…so I guess you do still love manga, don’t ya.” He said as he started to laugh.
“Heh, I am surprised you remember me!” the nervous man said as he revealed the eyes from behind his glasses. As for manga, well, I read from time to time,” Kazuo said as not to feel an inner embarrassment, “but my coworkers are really into the big one, INTEGRAL, so I caught up and…I kind of got hooked in is all I can say.”
“I love INTEGRAL! It’s my favorite!” The little girl exclaimed.
Returning her smile, Kazuo extended his hand, offering her the magazine. “I suppose you haven’t read the latest chapter yet, have you? It’s very exciting...if that's ok sir?”
The grandfather nodded once again, “go ahead Haruko, we have some time until the bus comes.”
After finding the beginning of the chapter, the young girl excitedly began reading, flipping page after page and digesting everything within seconds.
“So Kazuo-san, did you end up doing anything with those skills of yours? I remember you loved to draw” The grandfather questioned inquisitively while the girl was reading.
“Um, well, It’s hard to explain sir…I kind of fell out of love with the process.” Kazuo said while scratching his chin, “I guess it wasn’t for me.”
“Oh. So what do you do now then?” The elderly man asked plainly.
“...Funny enough, I am in the…entertainment business; I manage an up and coming talented client right now” Kazuo said with a phony smile.
“Wow! Would I know them by chance; someone living in this area?” The old man said, intrigued.
“Nooo, not at all…” Kazuo started sweating in the cold heat as he caught a look back at the girl reading the magazine. “They are reeaally underground…”
“Well…I...as long as you’re having fun young lad-” suddenly, the young girl began to tug at her grandfather’s jacket. Turning around to find the young lady holding back tears startled him.
“What is it, dear?” The grandfather cried.
“Th-that…can’t be how it ends!” She said as she started to throw a tantrum.
Meanwhile, Kazuo put his headphones back in, seemingly unaffected by the girl's emotions. Along the side of the road came trotting along the bus. He checked the time; 4:32 PM
The wind blew an invocation and i fell asleep at the gate
And I never stepped on the cracks 'cause i thought i'd hurt my mother
And I couldn't awake from the nightmare that sucked me in and pulled me under
Pulled me under
Oh... that was so real
Oh... that was so real
Oh... that was so real
The bus driver opened the gates of the bus, and as Kazuo walked up to the entrance of he bus, the man facing him spoke six words, “Kazuo…” Mr. Ito did not hear the next five utterances; he only saw them mouthe-
PAUSE.
FWD/REWIND.
I’ll Make It Real…You’ll See.
A figure hidden in shadow stood at the center of what seemed like nowhere. In that vast opaque domain, there was a single screen, which broadcast an image of a perspective that seemed to be that of a bus driver's seat. The subject was that man; Kazuo Ito.
Or was it?
Chapter 1 END