Yakusoku (Avara Stadium Book 1)

White Russian

"What was all that with that kid?" Himawari confronted her as soon as they got outside, turning on her in front of the escalator up to the JR line station. "Are you hitting on schoolkids now or something?"

"Get the metal shavings out of your brain, dumbass." Akiko pushed past him, and he jogged to keep up.

"I'm serious. That was nuts, you know that, right?"

"I'm not interested in men, and I'm definitely not interested in underage boys." She got on the escalator and took them two at a time up.

"Then what's your deal? You just coerced a boy into giving you his number and then marched out like you were going to go choke out a kitten."

She stopped, riding the escalator up, and just looked up at the ceiling. Ahead, the speaker warned riders to stand behind the yellow line. The chatter of gossiping girls rose from a big crowd nearby.

She threw her head back and laughed, and she turned to Himawari with the biggest grin.

"What do you think? It's good, right? I can market this mean bitch aesthetic, right?"

He stopped, his jaw falling open, and just stared. She turned back and stormed through the gate, slapping her purse down on the scanner to let her through.

"Don't be a mouth-breathing dolt. You can see that kid's different from the rest of them, right?"

Himawari shook his head. "I mean, he looked like he was terrified of being there, if that's what you're talking about."

"Dumbass."

Akiko didn't say another word, despite all Himawari's pestering her, as they boarded the train and headed to where Akiko got off first.

Her mind swirled with possibility, possibility, possibility. Burn it all down. If Natsumi was gone, Akiko was probably going down too. Better to honor her memory by going down in a blaze of fucking glory. She was going to burn up and die, probably a failure, hated by everyone, drinking herself to death in a ratty hovel somewhere, but damn it she was going to enjoy the fuckups she would get to make on the way there.

Down the escalator, down the street, and into Lawson's. She picked up a bottle of strong vodka and coffee licquer and a big carton of Lawson's milk, which she figured was nasty enough to mask the flavor of even vodka.

Yes, she'd just poured out all her alcohol. But that was her pleasure drinking. This was her work alcohol.

She got to her apartment, threw the milk into her fridge, and marveled at how barren and dead the place felt without her junk everywhere. She dropped into the sofa and called Naoki.

"Hello, Watanabe speaking," he said.

"Fucking stop that shit," Akiko snapped, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. "Hello, this is mister nobody. Please don't pay attention to me."

"Bushida?"

"Don't fucking call me by that boring-ass name. I told you it's Akiko. Now, come over to my place."

"What?"

"I'm about to text you the address. Now get your ass over here. I know where you are, so don't bother trying to just hide at home."

That was a bluff. But there was zero chance a socially-awkward little kid like him was going to call her on it. He stammered some stupid groveling acceptance and she hung up, texted him the address, and went to go change.

Did it make things weird to wear a minidress and do her makeup for it? Hell yes it did. Was it easy to play to teenage boys' hormones? Hell yes it was.