Tokyo Bay Riders: Cyberpunk Joyrider

2

Tokyo was alive and working long before Akira woke from his night's slumber. His door had knocked several times in the past hour, the sound of vacuums and the overpowering smell of cleaning products drifted under the door.

Akira grumbled.

Turning over in bed, the sun was trying to breach the curtains, the small streaks of sunlight reaching the edge where he lay. Reaching for the half empty cigarettes on the side table, he lit one quickly. Savoring a long drag before exhaling out, smoke dissipated in front of him. He was definitely a cigarette's in the morning type of guy.

His room however was a tip, no, a pigsty. Clothes sprawled over the bed, floor, hung over the chair in the corner and over the door to the bathroom. Akira really needed to get organized, and as the door knocked again he'd need to do it sooner rather than later.

It took all the will in his body to drag his ass out of bed, almost stumbling over as his feet hit the floor with an audible thud. Grabbing most the clothes and throwing them on the bed, he focused on getting ready over everything else.

"Roomservice!~" A voice shouted again through the door, Akira grumbled as he brushed his teeth with hase. He threw on his signature shades, grabbing his bike keys and helmet before stopping just before the door. Voices walked up and down the corridor, footsteps growing further and further away as he stayed silent.

That was the trouble with staying in a hotel as a wanted criminal- even room service could call the cops on you if they figured out who you were. The only advantage with that however is he'd have to stay in one place long enough to do that. Akira would be moved on within a month or two, that was the usual routine anyway. Luckily hotels also didn't keep wanted posters behind front desks.

It wasn't always like this. And it was never this bad either.

Akira had to admit most of it was bought on himself, he'd had an estranged relationship with his parents for as long as he could remember. He'd moved into his grandmother's home not long after his sixteenth birthday after the last straw argument at home. His grandmother, his mother's mom, a kind gentle soul who'd cherished that boy since the day that he was born, more so than his own mother had ever dared to.

He never knew when he'd discovered the city. Maybe it had discovered him, swallowing him whole as that presumably sixteen year old had wandered out later than usual. He vividly remembered giving his dear grandmother a fright when he hadn't returned home that night.

Akira had found himself in Kabukichō- the entertainment/ red light district on Shinjuku's east side. It was completely rammed, filled with swingers and gamblers alike. Not only that, but everyone in that damn district had one thing in common- the fact money spoke, and money was on everyone's minds. His uptight parents would have shamed him if they knew where'd he'd been, not that they'd never shamed him at all.

Akira needed the money. He couldn't let his elderly grandmother pay for his expenses- and as a college drop out he had no qualifications to back him up.

Experience in the real world was what he needed, despite how bad it was.

As Akira grew and found himself on the unpleasant side of Tokyo's night life as a full time job, he'd kept the fact a secret from his grandmother. He'd never tell her, he never did tell her.

She passed away eight months ago.

His parents had sold her apartment from under him, despite being in the will as legal owner of the place. She'd worked her whole life to pay for that place, her pride and joy with a little balcony overlooking the streets. She'd made a garden with pots of plants and a beautiful bonsai there, two garden chairs and a table for herself and her grandson.

All of it ripped away from him.

To save it going to courts, to save the hassle of even speaking to his parents, Akira decided to go as his parents had demanded- splitting the money 50/50. The moment the money went into his account was the moment Akira finally cut ties to his biological parents, for eight months he'd stayed true to his word and not spoken to them.

When the coast sounded clear, Akira slid out of his room, pulling his helmet over his head before anyone identified his face too closely.

"ごめんなさい" Akira dragged out the syllables as he disappeared around the corner to the stairs, his cleaner for the day shouting something back in the now distance. As usual the stairs were mostly abandoned, the guests all opting for the lift over the ten flights. Upon reaching the basement, Akira found that the underground parking lot was deserted as usual. A couple of cars here and there but his bike was still chained at the other end of the lot, his pride and joy Kawasaki Z H2 the only good thing that came after his grandmother's death.

The engine roared through the empty lot, Akira slowly stalking out of the darkness and into Tokyo's midday heat clad head to toe in black. Akira was staying in Harajuku, he was forever blessed for his bike in the fact he could zip around the city so swiftly. Nonetheless, today wasn't a day for riding around, today he'd actually got to get some work done.

With his earphones in and radio wired to the police radio frequency, Akira soon found himself back in his world of all knowing. He was debating the idea that listening to this much police intel and confidential information was giving him a god complex. Unfortunately for Akira, this was his way of living. He practically fed off information at this point, receiving and relaying information like he was giving water to parched men.

And everyone loved him for it.

Akira knew his grandmother would have been disappointed, she would have argued he'd got so much more to live for. Tokyo had always been cruel to Akira though, but unfortunately that was the real world.

A call came through his ear- a nearby police phonecall discussing a raid on a big shot Yakuza's nightclub in central Harajuku. Every single detail fed directly into his ear, names and all. Even the address, approximately a ten minute drive from his current location.

Tokyo had been cruel to Akira, but he'd grew up violent and learnt to bite back.

Akira turned his bike around, already knowing a Yakuza boss would be more than willing to hear the all knowing information Akira now possessed. And with that, him and his Kawasaki disappeared into the distance,
nothing but money and crime on his mind.

.
.
.
.
chapter 2, end.
please feel free to comment, vote & share <3