Stories From Tokyo-To

Chapter 2: Let Mom Sleep!

The car ride home was a haze. Seeing streetlights, storefronts, and cars pass by was all I can remember. That and the mumbled cackle of Onishima in the driver's seat. Not too long after, we drove past some familiar landmarks, took some turns, and hit a pothole. I knew I was home.

The door opened, and as the Sergeant pulled me out, I noticed the pouring rain eased into a timid drizzle. He walked us around the front of his squad car and headed straight for the driveway. His radio buzzed and beeped as the faint voice of a dispatcher called out locations and police codes. 

At last, we made it to Onishima's finish line and my gate of hell: the front door. He gave a couple of hearty knocks and sniffled as we waited for someone to answer. Soon enough, he greeted my mom and that bastard. Onishima straightened his tie and cleared his throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kurihara? Your son here was caught vandalizing an abandoned portion of the Rokkaku Railroad System and then fled the scene. If it weren't for his age and lack of a past criminal record, he'd be in a holding cell. This is his first and FINAL warning." he noticed me looking away and then shoved me towards the door frame. "Be sure to keep a close eye on him, keep him outta trouble. I don't wanna see you out and about at this hour again. Got that?" 

My stepdad, Kurihara, shoved me away from the door and into the hallway. His entire body smelled of beer. After glancing at the distant living room table and seeing about a dozen Asahi cans, my suspicions were confirmed.

Before Onishima left, he approached my mom and brushed his stupid hair aside. "Mrs. Kurihara. While looking into your son's file, I noticed his father was our own Detective Ueda. Though I couldn't attend the funeral, I wanted to express my sincerest condolences." The creep held my mom's hands. "And if there's anything I can do to help you and your son, we can maybe discuss it over coffee. Dinner? Couples massages?"

Kurihara stepped before her and shooed Onishima away with a "Goodnight Officer." The weasel, Onishima, turned away with a scoff and made his way back to his car. The front door closed with a bang as Kurihara's hand tight grip let go of the handle. Mom, startled by the slam, let out a small yelp. She turned to me after glancing at him. With worried-filled eyes, she only managed to say, "Benisu–." 

Before she could even finish, Kurihara, without turning away from the door and with a quiet rage, asked, "What did you do, boy?"

Back against the wall and head down so I didn't have to see the face of that oaf, I replied. "Why would you care? All you do is sit on your ass and grift people down at the bars and clubs..."

He slammed his palm next to my head. Standing over me how a bear would. Ready to maul. Wreaking as if he worked in a brewery, he screamed. "WHAT DID YOU SAY? YOU RED HEADED SHITASS!" 

My mom, trying to plead with him, grabbed his shoulder and attempted to pull him away. "Tenshiro! Please! Leave Benisu alone!" 

He smirked right at me. "No, no, he's right. This little punk ass twerp has it all figured out, don't you?". Right before I could respond, he snapped. The fuck showed his molars. How barbaric. "Do you know how this makes me look? How it makes your mother look? Raising a delinquent smart ass..." Grinning ear to ear, he goes, "Y'know, your dad..."

Having enough of his shit and at my boiling point, I wasn't gonna stand here and let him talk about my dad. Clenching my teeth and darting my eyes to his face, I growled. "Don't you dare!"

Seeing the fire in my eyes, he took his shot. "He probably left like a coward n' got himself killed to not have to deal with the failure his son would grow up to be."

Shoving the beast aside, I stormed upstairs off to my room and slammed my door just as that ogre did a few seconds ago. Locking my door and propping my desk chair for support to retaliate his anticipated rage fit. The scrapes on the door made it easier for the chair to find a grip. 

On queue, he made his way up the stairs and fidgeted with the knob before pounding the door. "DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME BOY! THIS IS MY HOUSE! THAT'S MY DOOR! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?" The faint voice of my mom screaming, "Please stop! You've had too much to drink!" was the last thing I heard before everything turned into a haze.

You see, my father died a couple of years prior. He was a detective working on a case near the Shibuya-cho district of Tokyo-to. He went missing on the job, and they found his body a couple of days later. Mom, not being able to support us by herself, decided to remarry and hitched up with this piece of work. 

A pot-bellied, good-for-nothing, Scum of the Earth. At the time he was well financially, but after a string of poor business decisions, he's now the animal banging on my door. My mom had to take up many jobs to pick up the slack. You'd think that fire of responsibility would have her build up the courage to kick him out of the house or at least divorce his ass. But his name is on the lease, bank accounts, and all the paperwork adults fill out. He loves parading that fact around, too. It seems that every other week, we replay moments like these. It's become a routine. Tradition. The status quo. I've had enough of this constant back and forth.

I waited until Mom and that drunkard fell asleep, and I took anything I could: a bag full of cans, some clothes, my headphones, a spare pair of my prescription glasses, and stole whatever cash that tyrant had in his wallet and some from his safe. Which had a crap ton of illegal stuff, so I know he wouldn't tattle on me. 

With everything set, I took one last glance at the home that was never truly mine. A home where my thoughts, concerns, and ideas felt unheard. Where my creativity, passion, and contributions felt unseen. Where my love, especially for the one person who cared for me, felt invisible.

I am not invisible.

So, I ran. Did I know where I was going at that moment? Not at all. To be frank, I was scared shitless. But there was this one place that I had in the back of my mind. A place where I heard the paint runs free and where gangs of Rudies rule the streets! A place where I can leave all of this behind and start fresh. A place where I can make my mark on the world the way all of those great Rudies did here, before me.

I reached the nearest train station and hopped on the last train heading towards a new life. I didn't care to look back. In reality, I had nothing to look back at. I didn't care if my choice was the right or wrong one. Where I was going, I intended to stay. Tokyo-To. Home.

Phone calls, coffee machines, and cubicles scatter this building. The uniform is a blue vest, badges, and belts that jingle with keys and handcuffs. It's a lazy day at the Fukuoka Prefecture Police Headquarters as a stubby man enters a room marked "Superintendent." A man behind the desk motions his guest to take a seat. He does so.

"You're probably curious why I called you in."

"I am, sir." the guest forces himself to sit upright.

"Well, as it turns out, Capitan Shiba from the Tokyo branch retired, and he gave me a personal call to see if there was anyone here to take his place. The boys at that station are fighting like rabid dogs for his position. Due to your time and experience here, I'd see it fit that you should take his place and oversee all of Tokyo's local operations. So, from now on, it's my honor to promote you to Captain... Onishima."

Onishima shoots out of his chair and salutes the Superintendent. With a smile across his face, he proclaims. "Thank you, Superintendent Shiro. I'll be sure to keep the streets of Tokyo clean and safe to the utmost regard!"