Stories From Tokyo-To

Chapter 19: Electric Tooth Brush!

The streets of Benten-cho were buzzing as usual, filled with the hum of people and the distant wails of the Keisatsu sirens. It had been a few days since our conversation on Mew's shed. Benisu was getting better with his skating, though he still tripped over himself every now and then. Mew, on the other hand, was a natural—graceful in her movements and precise with her tags. Me? I was just trying to keep us all alive.

We spent most of our time in Mew's shed, lounging around and working on our art. We'd roam the streets when the coast was clear, making our marks in alleyways and on rooftops. I still had my reservations about Benisu—he was soft. Too soft. But I could see something in him, and maybe, just maybe, he'd toughen up with time.

"Yo, Gum! Check this out!" Mew called from the corner of the shed adorned with clunky computer screens and tools for soldering, her keyboard perched on her knees. She had been glued to that thing all morning, typing away like her life depended on it.

I glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"

Mew grinned and spun the laptop around to show us a chat window. "I've been talking to someone online. They're interested in buying one of my beepers!"

Benisu and I exchanged glances. "A beeper?" I repeated, skeptical. "That's sketchy. Do you know them? Share any mutual contacts?"

Mew shrugged. "Noooooo. But they mentioned that they've seen other Rudies with it and managed to track me down by word of mouth! Must mean my handy work is finally being recognized! They're offering a crazy good price, and they're local. Says they're located on the other end of the district. Figured it might be worth checking out!"

Benisu looked uneasy. "You sure about this, Mew? After everything that's happened..."

I couldn't blame him for being on edge. We'd all been a little jumpy since the Poison Jam incident. Trust didn't come easy around here, and every deal felt like it could be a setup.

"I get it," Mew said, sensing our tension. "But it's just a quick meet! I'll be careful. I'm not stupid!"

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms. "If you're gonna do this, we'll come with. No way you're going alone."

Benisu nodded in agreement, though his face was still clouded with doubt. "Yeah, we'll have your back."

Mew smiled, appreciating the support. "Thanks, guys! I'll let them know I'm bringing friends! Just in case."

We spent the rest of the day running through the details, making sure we had an exit strategy if things went south. It wasn't ideal, but in this world, nothing ever was.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the streets, I tightened the batteries on my skates and glanced over at Benisu and Mew. "Let's get a move on."

Captain Onishima sat in his dimly lit office, a swirling cloud of cigarette smoke hovering above him. The dim light from the desk lamp cast a sinister glow across the scattered reports and case files that covered the surface. His fingers absentmindedly traced the cool metal of his specialty ordered magnum revolver, the only thing that truly made him feel in control of this city.

It had been a few weeks since he took over as captain, and already the stench of corruption had become undeniable. The whispers in the precinct, the knowing glances from higher-ups, the coded messages from the Rokkaku Group—it all made his skin crawl. The police department wasn't just funded by the Rokkaku Group; they were practically owned by them. He knew that now, and the realization had filled him with equal parts dread and opportunity.

Rokkaku wasn't just some big-time company with money to throw around. They had their claws in everything. The government, the police, the media... it was all a well-oiled machine designed to keep Tokyo under their thumb. And now, Onishima was just another cog in the machine. But he didn't mind. Not really. Power was power, and he liked having it, even if it came at the expense of someone who worked alongside him.

He picked up a file marked "CONFIDENTIAL" and flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages. It was an investigation into Rokkaku's involvement with the local government, an inquiry he was "assigned" to oversee but was more of a formality than a real case. They didn't want answers. They wanted silence. And Onishima was damn good at keeping things quiet.

But something nagged at the back of his mind—something he couldn't ignore. His thoughts drifted to Benisu Ueda, the name that had been haunting him ever since he first took this job. The delinquent teen who had slipped through his fingers for years on end, a punk who dared to stand against the system. Onishima had loathed him with a fiery passion, but Benisu had disappeared before he could deal with him properly.

Now, there were rumors. Rumors that a "redheaded brat" was in Tokyo, hiding among the Rudies, causing trouble again. Onishima's hand tightened around the file. Could it be true? Could Benisu really be here, in his city? The very thought made his blood boil. The idea of that kid skating around, mocking everything Onishima stood for, made his trigger finger itch.

But then there was the other thought, the one that gnawed at him in the quiet moments when he was alone. Benisu's father. The well-respected detective who had mysteriously vanished while investigating something big in Tokyo. Onishima remembered the case well. It had been swept under the rug, just like everything else that got too close to the truth. But the disappearance had never sat right with him.

Could there be a connection? Could Benisu be snooping around to find the leads tied to his father's disappearance? Onishima didn't believe in coincidences, especially not in this city. If Benisu was here, he wasn't just another runaway punk. He was either knowing or unknowingly getting himself into something bigger, something dangerous. And that made him a threat.

The captain leaned back in his chair, puffing on his cigar as he stared at the ceiling. He needed to be careful. Between the Rudie gangs growing bolder and the Rokkaku Group pulling the strings behind the scenes, this city was becoming a powder keg. And if  Ueda was involved... well, unlike coincidences, Onishima was a firm believer in history repeating itself.

He snuffed out the cigar and glanced at the revolver again, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The game was changing, and he needed to be one step ahead. He wasn't about to let some teenage punk or a shadowy corporation take him down. No, Captain Onishima had plans. And it was time to protect and serve his own interests.