The street is singing with birds. Genzo stands under an old spreading maple tree, squinting from the bright sun beating straight into his face. It's hot. Sweat has broken out on his forehead, and the collar of his shirt is damp. He's waiting for Mika and Miyuki. They said they would come together with someone, but didn't specify who, only exchanging mysterious glances.
Genzo takes out his phone, freezes for a second, then resolutely types a message to Aya.
- Aya... Hi. Remember, it's me, Genzo?
The screen lights up almost immediately.
- Yeah, I remember. How are you?
Genzo bites his lip, thinks, runs his thumb over the phone case, then types.
- Everything's great, just a bit hot. I thought you didn't really want to chat with me.
The reply comes faster than he expected.
- What makes you think that? I just wasn't in the mood. We're standing here with Renji right now, chatting too.
Genzo exhales, feeling the tension inside him release. He quickly deletes the word "okay," writes something else.
- How's Renji? Everything alright?
- Yeah, everything's fine. Alright, bye.
And the green dot next to the avatar goes out, she's gone offline. Genzo stares at the screen for a few more seconds, then puts the phone back in his pocket. Clouds drift slowly, like cotton wool. Genzo raised his head. Sunlight broke through the leaves, casting moving golden spots on his face.
- She blew me off, he said to himself. His voice sounded hollow.
- Genzo! comes a ringing voice from behind.
He turns around. Mika and Miyuki are approaching almost right up to him, both smiling. Miyuki slaps him on the back so hard he even coughs.
- What are you standing there like a post for? says Miyuki, narrowing her eyes. Come on, we'll introduce you to someone.
- To who? Genzo rubs the back of his head.
- You'll see, Mika answers mysteriously and winks.
They walk down the road. Around them, fields, a flat gray ribbon of asphalt, here and there lonely houses with crooked fences. Trees are rare, and each one provides a saving shade where you want to stand forever. Genzo wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
- Wouldn't it have been easier to call a taxi? he throws out tiredly when they enter the neighboring district.
Mika glances back at him with a slight smirk:
- We actually don't have any money. And you, Genzo, could've taken one. Buzzkill...
- I don't have any either, he admits, spreading his hands.
Miyuki sighs but continues walking forward without slowing her pace.
- Why are you so sour? Mika asked, looking at Genzo attentively.
- Just... he shrugged. My head hurts since morning. The heat.
- Yeah, sure, the heat, Miyuki snorted. Or did some girl send you packing?
- What girl? The nonexistent one?
- Oh, how sensitive we are.
- I said shut up.
Mika placed her hand on his shoulder, lightly, almost weightlessly.
- Come on. Don't chicken out.
- Poor students, Miyuki chuckled without turning around. How romantic.
- This isn't romance, it's poverty, Genzo corrected. There's a difference.
Mika laughed quietly, a rarity. Usually she was serious, almost stern. But in this laugh Genzo heard something real, not forced.
- Are you always such a whiner? she asked.
- Only when I'm walking three kilometers under the sun.
- Five, Miyuki clarified.
- What, five?
- Five kilometers. We've already walked five. One and a half left.
Genzo stopped. Looked at her.
- Are you joking right now?
- Not even a little.
He swore through his teeth. Quietly, but Mika heard and elbowed him in the side.
- Stop whining. We're all in the same boat.
- This boat is sinking.
- Then row, she smirked.
Finally they reach a low building, above whose roof a South Korean flag flutters in the wind, bright, red and blue. Genzo tilts his head back. Light is on in the windows on the third floor.
- Patriots? Genzo asked, looking at the flag.
- Not really, Mika replied. The building owner is just Korean. He likes hanging flags.
- Weird.
- Very.
Genzo said quietly to himself, looking at the doors of the building:
- Solid.
They went inside. It was cool in the lobby; the air conditioner was running. Genzo almost groaned with pleasure.
Inside it smelled of dust, old linoleum, and something else, cheap coffee from the vending machine. They enter the elevator. Mika presses the "3" button, the doors close with a quiet hiss.
- Ninth office? Genzo double-checks.
- Yep, Miyuki nods. Don't worry, they won't bite.
The elevator stops. They step out into a long corridor with peeling paint on the walls. Genzo adjusts his collar. His heart beats a little faster than usual, just from the tension.
It was old, with rattling doors and a dim lightbulb. It rose slowly, with an unpleasant creak, as if saying goodbye to life.
- Scared? Mika asked, noticing how Genzo gripped the handrail.
- No. I just don't like enclosed spaces.
- Claustrophobia?
- Undiagnosed.
Office 9. The door is ajar. Genzo knocks twice, then pushes it with his palm.
Inside, two people.
Takamura is sitting at the desk, leaning back in her chair. Long dark hair falls over her shoulders, glasses with thin frames glint in the lamplight. She looks over them, calmly, appraisingly.
Next to her, a dark-skinned guy in a dark shirt with the top button undone and black pants. On his feet, simple worn sneakers. He sits with his elbows on his knees.
Both turn their heads toward the newcomers.
Takamura tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and says quietly but clearly:
- Well, hello. Have a seat, ladies and gentlemen.
Mika and Miyuki sit down on chairs against the wall. Genzo remains standing, not because he doesn't want to, but because the dark-skinned guy suddenly stands up and walks straight toward him, extending his hand. His smile is open, a little tired.
- So it's you, Genzo Takeda? His voice is soft, with a slight accent. Nice to meet you. My name is Pardon. I'm your, so to speak, assistant for the illegal fights.
Genzo takes a step forward, shakes his hand, dry, warm, with strong fingers.
- Yeah, nice to meet you. He lingers with his gaze for a moment. Didn't expect this acquaintance to be somehow significant.
Pardon sits back down, gesturing for Genzo to take the seat opposite.
- Sit down, don't be shy.
Genzo sits. The chair creaks under him.
Pardon leans closer, clasping his fingers together.
- You know, Genzo, you have to win the next fight. Please try. It'll be next month, in September.
Genzo looks to the side, freezes for a second. In his head flashes: "September. There's still time. Or is there?" He rubs his chin.
- I'll try, he finally answers. Trying never hurts, as they say.
Pardon nods, then stands up, walks over to the small refrigerator in the corner, takes out a bottle of water, cold, with droplets of condensation on the plastic. He hands it to Genzo.
- You must be tired. Drink up, relax.
- Whoa, thanks. Genzo takes the bottle, squeezes it in his palm for a second, feeling the pleasant cold. Bro, you're the best.
He unscrews the cap, takes a small sip, then another, and drinks almost half in one go. The water flows down his throat, the coolness spreading through his chest.
Pardon turns to Mika and Miyuki.
- You girls drink too.
Mika raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms over her chest.
- We're actually seventeen. What girls?
Miyuki nods, smirking:
- Exactly. We're almost adults.
Pardon raises both palms in a gesture of surrender.
- Okay, okay, sorry. Didn't mean to offend.
Silence for a couple of seconds. Pardon sits back down, exhales, looks somewhere at the floor.
- I'll tell you where I'm from, so life doesn't seem like a bed of roses, he says in a lower voice. Basically, I'm like you, from another country. A refugee, to be precise. From a poor family living in the Republic of Togo. When they sent me here, I realized this was the only way to earn money. My parents sent me with their last money. I don't know what's happened to them... Maybe they're no longer alive. They were already old back then. Time spares no one, the end comes for everyone. That's how I ended up here.
He falls silent, clenching his fingers.
Genzo looks at him for a long time, seriously. Then says:
- Yeah, you're right. We'll all die sooner or later.
Takamura, who had been silent until now, takes off her glasses, puts them on the table, and looks straight at Genzo. Her eyes are dark, attentive.
- My name is Takamura Isaki, she says clearly. You can just call me Takamura. Nice to meet you.
Genzo moves closer, looks at the folders laid out in front of her. Thick ones, with notes, colored bookmarks sticking out here and there.
- And what is all this? he asks, nodding at the papers.
Takamura runs her finger along the top folder.
- Documents. A lawsuit in a case involving a rapist and murderer. She pronounces these words evenly, without trembling. One of those cases you don't want to take.
Genzo extends his hand, tilting his head slightly.
- I'm called Genzo. Nice to meet you.
Takamura looks at his palm, then raises her gaze, smiles with the corners of her lips, barely noticeably but warmly.
- Nice to meet you too. She shakes his hand firmly, businesslike, but without haste.
Pardon slaps his palms on his knees.
- Well, let's talk properly. We have a lot to discuss.
- Let's, Genzo nods. I'm listening.
- How did you even get into fights? Pardon asks, leaning toward him.
Genzo shakes his head, smirks.
- Long story. In short, by accident. Accidentally came to the gym, accidentally saw it, accidentally got involved.
- Got involved and stayed, Miyuki adds from the corner.
- Something like that.
Takamura opens one of the folders, runs her eyes over the text.
- What kind of character do you have? Strength isn't the only thing that matters in a fight. Can you be tough?
Genzo thinks for a second.
- I can when I need to. I just don't always want to.
- That's right, says Pardon. Someone who always wants to be tough is a psychopath. And psychopaths don't live long.
- You're a philosopher, Pardon, Genzo smirks.
- Life taught me.
Mika stands up, walks to the window, and looks into the courtyard.
- Who are we even waiting for? Or are we just going to sit like this?
- We're waiting until you all get to know each other, Takamura answers without turning around. I don't like working with people I don't trust.
- And you already trust us? Genzo asks.
- Not yet. But the process is underway.
She flips through the pages, stops on one underlined in red.
- Do you know what's happening in this school? she suddenly asks quietly.
- Which one? Genzo doesn't understand.
- The one you all go to.
- We go to different ones, says Miyuki.
- In general. In your area. Takamura raises her head. Violence, intimidation, victims staying silent. Doesn't that remind you of anything?
Genzo swallows. Something dark flashes in his head, but he drives the thought away.
- It does, he answers shortly.
Pardon sighs, rubs his face with his palms.
- Takamura, maybe not now? We just met.
- Better early than late.
- I agree, Genzo says unexpectedly. Better to know what you're dealing with.
Takamura looks at him with interest, a little longer than usual.
- Good. Then let's continue. I have information that in your school, Genzo, there's one guy operating. We'll talk about him separately when you're ready.
- Why me? Why not the police? I don't even go to school anymore.
- Because the police only take what's on the surface, Takamura answers harshly. And I dig deeper. And I need people who can look where the law can't reach.
Genzo stays silent for a long time. Everyone looks at him.
- I'll think about it, he finally says.
- That's all I'm asking.
They talk for another hour. They discuss fights, strategy, Pardon's past, he tells about Togo, the road here, the people he met. Takamura inserts her comments, sometimes harsh, sometimes almost gentle. Mika and Miyuki banter with each other but listen attentively.
Genzo gradually relaxes. His back stops being like stone, his shoulders drop. He even laughs a couple of times at Pardon's jokes, who turns out to be quite the joker when he wants to be.
- Well, brother, Pardon says at the end, slapping Genzo on the shoulder. Welcome to the team. Unofficially for now.
- Thanks. I appreciate it.
Takamura puts her glasses back on, looks over them.
- I'll contact you in a couple of days. Stay reachable.
- I will.
They say goodbye. Genzo steps outside, it's already getting dark. The wind is cool. He clenches and unclenches his fingers. In his head, Takamura's voice still echoes: "Someone who will look where the law can't reach."
Two days later.
School. An ordinary day, if "ordinary" can even be applied to this place.
The morning begins with birds. They sit on the cornice and scream across the entire yard, so loudly that you can hear it even through the closed window. The sun is already high, yellow, shameless, pouring light straight onto the desks.
During the third lesson. The view slowly pans to the narrow window of the second-floor toilet, then shifts to a guy sitting on the windowsill at the end of the corridor and furiously scribbling in a notebook. The pencil is broken, but he keeps writing, pressing so hard that the paper tears in places. Then he freezes, stares at a point in front of him, closes the notebook, and puts it in his backpack.
The school lives its life. Bells, shouts, stomping.
After lunch, break.
To the old storage room in the basement. The door is metal, rusty, locked from the inside with a latch. No light. Only a murky strip from under the door.
And sounds.
First quiet. Then louder.
- Please... sob. Please, stop...
Heavy breathing. A dull thud, a body hitting the concrete floor.
Kim is on his knees. He's a big guy, broad shoulders, dark hair falling over his temples and forehead, covering his eyes. His shirt is wet with sweat. He breathes heavily, smiling crookedly, sparingly.
Beneath him, a girl. His peer. She lies on her side, trying to curl into a ball, but he holds her by the wrists.
Her skirt is torn, hanging in shreds. Her panties are ripped, lying nearby on the dusty floor. There is blood on her thighs, fresh, bright, flowing in thin streams down her pale skin, gathering in drops on the concrete. She is covered in tears, her face wet, smeared with mascara and snot. Her lips tremble. One eye is swollen, with a purple bruise underneath.
- You... she gasps, her voice breaking. You promised... just once...
- I promised a lot of things, Kim's voice is low, calm, almost tender. And you didn't finish a lot of things.
He doesn't stop. He keeps a steady rhythm, as if doing exercises. The girl cries out, bites her lip until it bleeds, leaving a scarlet streak on her white teeth.
- Tsk... you're so loud, Kim clicks his tongue. If you scream, it'll be worse.
He pulls out his right hand and presses two fingers, index and middle, on her eyes. First not hard, then harder. She starts gasping from pain and fear, gulping air like a fish thrown ashore.
- Don't... I beg you... she whispers. I have a mom... she's alone... if she finds out...
- And your mom can suck my balls, got it? Kim leans closer, breathing into her face, the smell of sweat, booze, cigarettes. If you tell anyone, even a word, even a glance toward the cops or teachers, I'll slit your mother's throat. Right in front of you. And then I'll rape her again, and of course kill her. Do you want that?
- No... no, please...
- That's a good girl.
He squeezes her jaw hard, turning her face toward him. He looks into her tearful, dilated pupils.
- Repeat it. Loudly.
- I... won't tell... sob, hiccup. Anyone...
- What "won't"?
- Nothing...
- And?
- And... she freezes, then exhales very quietly: I wanted it myself. I agreed.
Kim smiles. Satisfied. Nods.
- Good girl.
He stands up abruptly, adjusts his pants, looks her over from above, dirty, crying, with blood on her legs.
- Get dressed, he throws. And remember: I always know who you're talking to.
He leaves. The latch clangs, the door opens, letting in a strip of yellow light, and closes again.
The girl is left alone. She sits on the concrete, hugging her knees, shaking with a fine tremor. Blood is still flowing from her womb, her first time, taken by force. She begins to rock back and forth quietly, biting her fingers so as not to howl.
Tears flow silently.
Night.
Genzo sits on the bed, phone in one hand, a crumpled piece of paper with numbers in the other. He saves Takamura's and Pardon's contacts, presses "save," then rereads their names on the screen.
"Takamura"
"Pardon"
That's it. Now they're in the list.
The phone rings. Unknown number. Genzo picks up.
- Yes?
- Genzo? Pardon's voice, cheerful despite the late hour. Got a thing. A nighttime event at the neighboring school. How about it? Not asleep yet?
- Not anymore, Genzo rubs his eyes. What kind of event?
- We'll sit, talk. Someone wants to take a look at you. A potential sponsor. Don't worry, nothing criminal.
Genzo snorts.
- Getting acquainted with illegal fights, and nothing criminal. Sounds logical.
- You're right, Pardon laughs. But this time for sure nothing. Get ready. I'll wait for you in an hour at the main entrance. White shirt, pants like for school.
- That's what I'm wearing anyway.
- Perfect. Come on, waiting.
Genzo stands up, stretches. His vertebrae crack. He goes to the closet, takes out a white shirt, fresh, ironed by his grandmother who knows when. Puts it on. Buttons the buttons up to the middle, then changes his mind and buttons them all. Black pants, a simpler belt, sneakers.
Looks in the mirror. Serious face. Tired.
- It'll do, he says to himself.
He goes out.
The night city smells of asphalt heated during the day and something bitter, either flowers or exhaust fumes. Genzo walks at a fast pace, hands in his pockets, head slightly lowered. Lanterns burn with yellow light, shadows stretch like rubber.
Twenty minutes later he reaches the neighboring school. The building is massive, gray, some windows lit. Pardon stands at the main entrance in a similar white shirt but without a tie, in dark trousers.
- You made it, Pardon smiles, extending his palm for a high-five. Good job.
- What's going on here anyway? Genzo looks around.
A party. A get-together. Students from different schools are gathering, music, drinks. Don't worry, I'm right here.
They go inside.
The corridors are wide, smelling of paint and cheap air freshener. Somewhere far away music is playing, the bass breaking through the walls. Genzo walks along the left wing, examining closed classrooms and signs on the doors.
He turns the corner and collides shoulder-to-shoulder with someone. The impact is solid; Genzo takes a step back, loses balance for a second, but stays on his feet.
In front of him is a guy. Tall. Very tall. Shoulders wider than a doorway. Dark hair falls over his temples and forehead. The white shirt on him is straining at the seams. A giant.
Kim.
Genzo raises his head, his neck even cranes, to look him in the face. For a moment in his head: "Like a mountain."
- Sorry about that, Genzo says, spreading his hands. Accidentally bumped into you, dude. It was an accident.
Kim looks at him. From above down. His gaze is heavy, somehow unnaturally calm. Then his voice, low, with a slight hoarseness:
- You know, for "accidentally" they get beaten badly.
Genzo blinks. Doesn't understand if it's a joke or a threat.
- Watch it, Kim continues, leaning forward slightly, otherwise with pushes like that everything can end badly.
- Bro, Genzo takes a breath, forcing himself to speak evenly. I said it was an accident. Nothing personal.
Kim doesn't look away. Silence hangs in the corridor, even the distant music seems to quiet down.
I don't advise you to talk to me, Kim says slowly, enunciating every word. Or you'll establish some kind of connection... and then it'll end badly.
Genzo feels it, but he keeps his posture straight, not afraid at all. He just smirks, slightly raising his chin.
Oh yeah? You think so?
I don't think. I know.
Silence. Genzo looks into the dark eyes opposite. Under them are light shadows, but not from fatigue, but from something else. From the cruelty that sits inside and waits to come out.
Alright, Genzo is the first to look away, turns and takes a step to the side. See ya.
Uh-huh, Kim throws at his back. Just don't go where you shouldn't.
Genzo doesn't turn around. He walks down the corridor, thinking about something that just wouldn't quiet down.
What was that? he whispers to himself. And who was that idiot?
Pardon is waiting for him at the turn, raising an eyebrow.
Who did you run into there?
I don't know, Genzo answers, catching his breath. But he has a face like he keeps corpses in the basement.
Remember him, Pardon becomes serious. Guys like that don't just walk around.
I will, Genzo nods.
They walk on.
The music gets louder. Ahead, the assembly hall. Light, voices, laughter pour from the open doors. Some are already dancing, some are sitting on windowsills with plastic cups.
Genzo enters. Music and noise.