YF placed the gear back in the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He then walked through a dilapidated side route until he found a ramp that led to the level below. YF continued down the street until he reached the next ramp, descending once more. His alertness spiked with each level he descended as the residents of the lower levels stared at him with increasing length. YF did not know whether to feel bad that he was unnerved. During his time in late elementary school he would have seen and talked to such characters leaving from and coming back to the apartment all the time. Back then he must have been more integrated into the community. Or perhaps it was because communities naturally put up a lower barrier of entry for children. In any case, YF supposed they could smell something had changed.
He walked as slowly as he possibly could to make it look like he belonged there. Eventually the stares subsided, and he began to relax. Along the way he thought about Erika. YF recalled the day when they started to drift apart; it was perhaps two or three years into their marriage. That day YF spoke to Erika about his issues at work, his feelings of inadequacy related to Hiroyuki, and his complicated relationship with his mother. In the midst of talking about that he remembered starting to cry. To his surprise Erika automatically stood up, turning to walk away. When he looked up he saw in Erika’s face a look of contempt, one that he had never seen before.
Erika had always claimed that she did not care much about YF making no money. He had never really believed that, and for a long time thought it was the reason he felt no control over his life. But reflecting back on the day Erika stood up, YF realized that the problem was not the money or the job. YF figured what Erika really wanted at an instinctual level was to look him in the eyes and see strength. She wanted to know whether or not he was willing and able to make a tough decision for their family, perhaps, even if it meant death. He knew deep inside that Erika’s reaction was something built into her, not anything that she could control even if she wanted to.
As he finished that thought he found himself at his destination, a dark, abandoned part of the second level street. Even in such a place there were some plants that somehow grew, likely due to the moisture dripping from the upper levels. Boxes, trash, long dried human feces, and yet to be dismantled traffic barriers were all that kept the plants company. YF found a thicker patch of weeds and shoved the bag there. He zipped open the bag and then gathered some trash to scatter nearby, covering it up.
***
YF ate his lunch at the udon shop as usual. But each time he picked up a batch of noodles with his chopsticks he would stare at the television screen in anticipation, waiting for some report on Saru, Beef, and Ken. YF decided not to connect his receiver to the spiderbot for fear of someone intercepting the signal. Saru never did a bad job on these sorts of things anyway, there was no need for it. Still, YF could not help his anxiety over the situation; by the time he actually started to eat, the noodles had gone lukewarm.
“Breaking news on a situation unfolding at the Seikaido highway westbound. There’s been a grand theft auto originating from the Itsugo Gochome shrine. The vehicle is heading southwest at high speeds…”
YF looked up at the screen to see the camera — probably from a drone — following the shrine van as it weaved in and out of traffic, headed for the outskirts of town. YF left his noodles unfinished and rushed out of the shop, mounting his scooter and riding off for the koban.
When he reached the station, Katayama was already outside, looking anxious.
“Senpai, are we going to engage?” he asked upon YF’s arrival.
YF pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know if we’d catch the perpetrators in time. They’re too far from the city by now. Maybe we should wait for Town Office to say something.”
“Doesn’t the force need our help?”
“Probably.”
Katayama glared at YF.
“Let’s go then. But you will need a helmet.”
Katayama activated his neck band, an opaque face mask wrapping around his face.
YF did the same. “Good.”
“Wait,” said Katayama right as he was about to mount the pillion.
“What?”
“Do you have a gun?”
“No, why would you think that?” YF tried not to sound surprised.
Katayama shook his head. “Just thought it’d help.”
“You ever talk to Sentinels?”
“Not directly,” Katayama admitted.
“We’ve been out on the streets without guns for centuries. Sure we’ve been beaten up, stabbed, robbed, whatever. But nobody dies. Usually”
“Have you…ever been mugged before?” Katayama sounded wary.
“Yeah of course,” YF replied. “Gave the other guy a thorough beating before he took my shit though.”
“I see.”
YF patted the reactor on his scooter, the one newly installed by Kigali. “Let’s go. I had somebody fit it with leg braces if you don’t want to hang onto me.”
“I’ll figure it out,” said Katayama.
As soon as Katayama mounted and he heard the pillion braces clamp, YF pulled the throttle and accelerated onto the road. He activated the scooter’s heads up display. Through it, YF could see news footage of three officers on motorcycles chasing the van, still headed west. While the van driver was doing a good job evading the cycles, there was no way it could compete with their agility and maneuverability. The chase continued about fifteen more minutes until a few concerned citizens finally decided to box in the van where the highway narrowed to two lanes. The bikes pulled up to the side.
YF turned off the display and sped up, knowing roughly where it was that they stopped. When he reached the area, he could see the three officers — still with their helmets on — beating Ken with their jittes while the latter pretended to recoil and defend himself. YF knew he was pretending because under normal circumstances, any group less than six was not enough to take him on. In the time it took for YF to arrive, all three officers should have been incapacitated.
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YF dismounted the bike and ran over to the three men, grabbing the nearest one’s arm to stop him from attacking Ken.
The person turned around and shoved YF. “Get off me!”
YF recognized that voice. “Toriyama? What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “Just cuff and clamp him. Get him out of here.”
“You soft in the head?”
“Let’s go. Tell Magistrate Kuroda to send the evidence team for the van and we’ll get on with it.” He looked at the other two officers, who by now were standing to the side. “You two can stay with the stolen vehicle, whatever your names are.”
Toriyama closed the distance between YF, stopping one stride away from him. “Don’t order my men what to do.”
“Or what?” YF wanted to say. But he sighed instead. “All right I won’t tell your men what to do. Let’s cuff him, clamp him, put him in a holding cell at the Office. It takes up less of your precious time, and a citizen of Itsugo doesn’t have a reason to hate us.”
“Citizen? Hate us?” Toriyama scoffed. “That’s the problem Sakai. Itsugo never gets any better because we’ve been shaking hands and patting backs too long.” He pointed his jitte at Ken. “A bit of jail and a slap on the wrist won’t change these guys. Out here, only a thorough beating teaches anyone anything.”
“These guys?” YF pointed two fingers at Toriyama then at himself. “We are ‘these guys’.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Toriyama. “You a sectarian sympathizer now? Or perhaps you’re one yourself.”
YF’s eyes narrowed. “Say that again.”
“Sectarian lov—”
YF pivoted his right foot in the shortest distance he could and upper cutted Toriyama in the chin, sending his helmet flying up into the air and him staggering backwards until he fell and hit the back of his head. When Toriyama scrambled up, YF switched feet — right forward — and threw a left cross at Toriyama’s nose, landing it with a sick crunch. Toriyama’s head bounced once more against the metal before he laid in a daze. Blood started to stream from his nostrils at the same time the sun’s rays sizzled against the skin of his face. YF quickly grabbed Toriyama’s legs and dragged him into the shadow cast by the van, stopping the process. He then let go, Toriyama’s boots thudding against the metal.
“You said yourself Itsugo boys only learn from a beating. Well it looks like you got your ass beat, so you’re going to listen to what I say.” YF picked up the fallen jitte and pointed it at the other two officers. “You two want some too?”
They did not respond.
“Yeah that’s what I thought. You, shorter one.” YF pointed the weapon at him and then at Ken. “Cuff and clamp this man to your bike and take him to the Office. I’ll take Toriyama.” He turned to Katayama. “You and the tall one stay with the van until Kuroda sends more guys.”
Katayama and the tall officer bowed. “Understood!” they shouted in unison.
YF turned to watch the shorter officer connect his receiver to the live handcuffs, waiting for them to whir to life before cuffing Ken. He then took Ken to the motorcycle and led him to the front seat, opening the leg braces. Ken slowly climbed on and held onto the center bar, remaining expressionless as the braces clamped over his calf and thighs. The two clasps on the center bar then grasped onto the cuffs, one on each side.
YF casually saluted the officer with two fingers. “See you at the Office.”
“Yes sir.”
YF seemed to notice the stream of blood flowing from his right hand after saluting the officer and immediately felt himself get light headed. He looked down. His right fist was completely cut up from Toriyama’s helmet, and his left knuckles were bruised from punching his nose. YF unbuttoned his uniform shirt and tied it tightly to the center of the jitte. He then looped the shirt over his wrist, twisting the baton until he could see his hand growing pale from the blocked blood flow. YF noticed Katayama starting and hesitating, making as if to say something. YF waved him off.
“Path finding for the Town Office should be built into the bike. Just help me get him on it,” said YF, motioning toward Toriyama.
Katayama nodded and dragged Toriyama over to the bike, activating the leg braces so that he stayed in place. YF mounted as best he could and activated his own braces, placing his left hand on the handle. “Thanks. I’ll see you there.”
“Yes sir,” Katayama replied.
***
Back at the Town Office, the first thing Kuroda did when YF entered the meeting room was to throw a stack of papers at his head. YF stood and winced as it hit him, deciding not to move.
“Where were you during the Daimon-dori incident?” Kuroda demanded. “There are reports that you were at the hostess club, or gambling, or both.”
The Mermaid was near the bus depot, now that YF thought about it. But he had only ever been there once. Someone must have seen him and said something to Kuroda.
“S-s-someone there is an old friend,” said YF. “I was just seeing how she was.”
“What you do with your personal life is not my business,” said Kuroda. “But I don’t want to hear about you at hostess clubs during duty hours again.”
“Sir, I’ve been on duty for months without relief. I have not gone home, I’ve been showering in the sink, and I listen to people’s problems on the street all day. I had a break when Katayama came and I took it.”
YF saw Kuroda’s expression go from incredulous, to red like he was about to explode, and then suddenly soften. He pointed his vape box at YF. “You neglected your duties at a critical moment.”
“That is true,” said YF, bowing in contrition.
“Make sure when you’re most needed you’re there.”
“I will,” YF reassured.
Kuroda gave him a sideways glance. “You look like shit.”
“Medical checked it out before I came in. I’ll stop by a clinic or something before heading back to my post.”
“Make sure you do.” Kuroda blew out a cloud of smoke. “You also punched a fellow officer on live television.”
“He was beating a fellow citizen of the Village on live television. I thought it best to restore trust to our department’s good name.”
Kuroda snorted as he forcefully contained a chuckle. “Yeah that—.” He waved his vape box. “Forget it, I’m not going to say it. Go get your damn hand taken care of.”
“Yes sir.”
An officer YF didn’t recognize was standing outside of the conference room, looking anxious. Kuroda motioned for him to enter.
The officer bowed once. “Sir.” He eyed YF.
“Go on.”
“The evidence team says that the van is not from the right shrine. The characters say Nanachome, not Gochome.”
“...What?”
The officer remained silent.
Kuroda’s eyes darted from YF to the officer. “What happened to the guys at the scene? Are you telling me my people can’t read anymore?”
“Sir…”
Kuroda held the side of his face between his thumb and index finger using his free hand, waving his vape box at them. “All of you get out, now.”
YF and the officer bowed before exiting. “Yes sir.”