TheLycanthropeClub
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The Lycanthrope Club - An American Werewolf in Japan, Chapter XI
🕑 Added 2019-04-01 06:19:41 +0000 UTCMasae silently regarded the headstone. It was a simple rectangular column no more than a meter high made of dark speckled granite set on a stone base. Characters were chiseled on the column's weathered surface - the name of Masae's grandfather, his date of birth and his date of death. Masae's gaze drifted downwards, noting the dirt that had accumulated on the north face of the headstone and the empty flower vases below. She slowly lifted the long-handled ladle from the wooden bucket at her feet and gently poured water on the grave. She did this several times, washing away most of the dirt and grime. She then filled the vases using the rest of the water from the bucket, plucked several yellow chrysanthemums from the nearby garden and placed the flowers in them. Satisfied, she rose, pressed her palms together, shut her eyes and prayed.
Taro was waiting for her when she returned to the house. He watched silently as she deposited the ladle and bucket back to the closet. She turned, gave him an odd look but said nothing. She then left the kitchen.
Their luggage sat next to the front door in the main hall. Junko stood a few meters away from it tapping away on her phone. She sniffed the air.
"Hello, Masae-sempai," she muttered, still looking down at her phone.
Masae scowled faintly. She walked over to one of the narrow windows overlooking the front lawn and stared out it. It was morning. The yard was bathed in golden-orange light. Insects buzzed about in the air, their tiny forms mere specks hovering in the shafts of sunlight. Small birds flitted from tree to tree. Beyond the yard the narrow asphalt road was empty. Masae stood there for a time.
Minutes passed.
Masae sighed and checked the time on her phone.
"They're late," she said.
"Only by, uh, ten minutes," said Junko. "And it's not as though this place is on the main road."
"They're the Public Security Intelligence Agency, Junko-chan," said Masae. "It's their job to know where we are. And be on time."
Junko lowered her phone.
"I'm sure it's nothing," she said, looking up. She paused. "Maybe they're double-checking to make sure everything is good. I mean, they only had, what, four days to plan all this? I don't think it was easy even for them."
Masae considered this.
"True," she conceded grumpily. "Still, I'm going to call that agent if they're not here soon."
There was a long pause. Masae had turned back to the window and was staring out it.
"So, what's going to happen to the kendo club with you gone?" asked Junko conversationally.
Masae slowly turned around. Her eyes were wide with the shock of realization. She slapped herself on the forehead.
"Aaaa! I completely forget!" she exclaimed. "And the tournament is coming up in two weeks! I'm such an idiot!"
"Oh, um, I'm...I'm sure the team will manage," said Junko.
"No they won't," snapped Masae. "Maybe if it was just Taro-kun, but not the both of us. We'll get slaughtered! And it'll be my fault." She strode past Junko, paused, and then turned around. "I'll need to talk to Public Security about flying me back to Inuyama in two weeks," she said.
"Whaa? No, Masae-sempai," said Junko. "You heard what they said. It isn't safe."
"I'll have to take the risk," said Masae grimly. "I'll fly back here for the tournament then fly back to America as soon as we finish up."
"Bu-"
"It's my duty as the kendo club president. I'm not going to let them down."
"There's...come on, I don't think they'd even let you go," pleaded Junko.
"They said they wouldn't let this impact our education," said Masae, folding her arms. "Missing the tournament would be shameful; it would definitely hurt my education. And I'm not letting the club down."
Junko's expression fluctuated between one of nervousness, frustration and confusion. Then, she noticed Taro; he had just stepped out of the kitchen.
"Um, sorry," he said diffidently, bowing slightly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Is everything all right?"
"Er," said Junko.
"It's the kendo tournament," said Masae quickly. "The one against Nagoya. It's in two weeks, remember? We're going to have to fly back here for it."
"Oh," said Taro quietly. "The tournament."
"I'll talk with the agent when he comes to pick us up," continued Masae. "Hopefully he can make arrangements for both of us."
"Um...thank you, Masae-sempai, but that won't be necessary," said Taro.
"Huh?" said Masae, caught off guard. She recovered. "No, you should come too, Taro-kun," she said. "It wouldn't be fair if you couldn't come."
"Yes, but..." Taro squirmed a little.
"But what?" said Masae, bemused.
"I...I don't think it would be fair if I did," he said at last. He took a deep breath. "In fact, I was going to wait a week or so before speaking with you about this, but I don't think either of us should compete in kendo tournaments any longer."
Masae stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
"It's not fair," said Taro slowly. "It wouldn't be fair for us to compete now that we're...the way we are now," he said, gesturing at his body. "It would be like competing while taking performance enhancing drugs. Like...like that American cyclist." He hesitated. "And...what if we lose control during a tournament? We're getting better at transforming but I don't think it would be wise to take that risk."
Masae was silent.
"I'm...I'm sorry," said Taro miserably. "But I-"
"You're right," said Masae suddenly. She shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair." She slowly sunk down to the floor, sitting, knees crossed. She lowered her head.
Junko bit her lip. She took a step towards Masae, hand extended apparently to comfort her, but then retracted it. Taro cleared his throat.
"I...I think the agent is finally here," he said, nodding at the window.
Junko turned. A sleek black sedan had parked along the side of the road.
"Oh," said Masae. She rose. Junko saw her absently wipe something from her eye as she stood. "We...we should get going, then," she said in a businesslike manner. "I'll let grandma know we're leaving." She paused. "Taro-kun, could you carry my stuff over to the car?" With that she hurried off.
Taro and Junko exchanged looks.
"Poor Masae-sempai," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, she liked to complain about it but kendo was a big part of her life. And yours," she added.
"It still is," said Taro, shrugging. "We just can't enter tournaments any longer."
Junko smiled weakly.
"Maybe some of those American werewolves practice kendo," she said. "I mean, if they're werewolves too, it's fair, right?"
"Well, possibly," said Taro diplomatically.
"Even if there aren't you and Masae-sempai can teach them," she said, sounding suddenly inspired. "Why not? It'll be a cultural exchange. You two can found the Japanese-American Werewolf Kendo league."
Taro actually chuckled.
"I...I mean no offense, Junko-chan, but I can't tell if you're joking or serious."
Junko laughed. "To tell the truth I'm not sure myself."
Taro grinned. The tension and melancholy dissipated. Taro walked over to their luggage and lifted a pair of suitcases. Junko grabbed her bags and hurried to the front door.
Outside, a man had emerged from the black car. He wore a dark-blue satin jacket with a government seal on the left shoulder, long black pants and shiny black shoes. He was of average height and build, in his thirties, possibly early forties, with a scruffy, short-cut dark hair. He waved at Taro and Junko, smiling. Junko and Taro made their way down to the car.
"Hello," said the man, bowing. He had a smooth, broad face and easy smile. "My name is Ito Kiseki, special agent with the Public Security Intelligence Agency. You are Fujimori Taro and Hayashi Junko, yes?"
"Yes, sir," said Taro, bowing. "Thank you for coming for us."
"Thank you for coming for us," said Junko, also bowing.
"Is Takahashi Masae here?"
"She'll be right out," said Junko. "She's letting her grandmother know we're about to leave."
"Alright, but be quick," he said. "Our plane is leaving in a few hours."
Just then Masae emerged from the house, soon followed by her grandmother. The two made their way along the path leading from the house to the road. Both were smiling, though Masae's smile was conspicuously wan.
"Hello madam," said Kiseki, bowing.
"Hello young man," said Masae's grandmother pleasantly. "You must be their driver."
"Indeed I am," he said smoothly. "I was sent here on behalf of NALA. Your granddaughter and her friends are truly exceptional students."
"I regret never traveling when I was younger," sighed Masae's grandmother. "Your grandfather was never interested in leaving Japan," she said, turning to Masae. "But as wonderful as this country is it would be a shame to go your entire life without seeing the rest of the world."
"Er, yes, grandmother," said Masae.
"Please, call me when you arrive," she said, smiling, holding Masae's hands with hers.
The high schoolers loaded their luggage into the trunk. Goodbyes were exchanged and the three of them climbed into the sedan, Masae in front and Junko and Taro in the back. Kiseki opened the driver side door, took a seat and shut it behind him. He tapped the ignition button and the electric motor hummed to life. Masae's grandmother waved as the car slowly made a u-turn along the road and sped off towards Tokyo.
The three of them sat there in silence for a minute or so. Then, Kiseki cleared his throat.
"We can speak freely now," he said, briefly glancing back at Junko and Taro. "For security reasons I have not been given the full details of your case. I am to escort you to Tokyo international, accompany you on your flight to Portland and take you to this 'summer camp' outside the city. Once there I will remain and act as liaison between you, NALA, and the Public Security Intelligence Agency. You will be allowed supervised contact with your families at regular intervals but otherwise should avoid communicating with anyone back in Japan. There's still more we need to go over but do you have any questions?"
Junko looked at Taro, who shrugged.
"May I...ask why you were delayed?" said Masae from the front.
"There were some...administrative issues at the office," said Kiseki carefully. "It prevented me from leaving on time. Nothing you need worry about."
"Did they tell you who's after us?" asked Junko.
"Yes. Very nasty people. We believe they are watching the airports but they are mainly looking for a single American woman, not four Japanese nationals. Even so we should not draw attention to ourselves."
They slowed to a stop at a T intersection connecting the narrow country road with a wider one. A cluster of small, somewhat ramshackle homes sat on the opposite of the street. Beyond the homes lay a forest of tall-trunked trees and bamboo. Kiseki checked both directions and turned right onto the wider road. They passed a bus stop with a single commuter sitting on the bench.
"Hm," said Kiseki.
"What is it?" inquired Masae.
"Nothing," he said.
They continued along for a minute or so. Junko watched the landscape roll by out the passenger window. They were technically in or very close to Tokyo but one could be forgiven for mistaking it for the countryside.
"We'll be able to bypass security and head straight to the gate," said Kiseki. "But we'll board like ordinary passengers. Do not speak with anyone unless necessary. Leave the talking to me. Once we reach Portland we should be in the clear - mostly. The syndicate doesn't have quite as much influence in the United States though we shouldn't entirely let our guard down. We'll meet with a NALA handler once we get past security there."
There was a pause.
"What do you know about NALA?" inquired Masae.
"Very little," said Kiseki. "I know they are a non-government entity based in the United States. My understanding is that they are a security consultant firm of some kind that also does some philanthropic work. Mostly scholarships. The NALA handler will explain once we arrive."
Junko grinned.
"Do you think we should tell him?" she whispered to Taro.
"If Yoshikawa-san didn't say anything neither should we," replied Taro. "He wouldn't believe us anyhow. Not unless we...well, you know."
They made a sharp turn and passed into a densely wooded area. The trees and undergrowth squeezed the road from both sides; branches splayed out above the road half-obscuring the sunlight. It was almost akin to a tunnel. The foliage gradually thinned as the road started to curve.
"What's this?" murmured Kiseki suddenly.
Both Junko and Taro sat up their seat and peered past Kiseki and Masae's through the front window. A large white truck lay a hundred meters or so ahead. It looked as though it had careened off the road as its cab had all but twisted off the semi-trailer and was halfway in the forest. Several bright orange cones were scattered around the concrete around it. A man in a scruffy leather jacket and cast on his arm stood at the periphery. He was smoking a cigarette. When he sat their approach he turned, dropped the cigarette, stomped the flame out and waved at them with his good arm.
"Looks like a...truck?" said Masae.
"An accident?" said Junko, cocking her head.
The car slowed.
"I don't like this," said Kiseki flatly, shaking his head.
"Huh?"
The car came to a complete stop. The man in the jacket was still waving at them, gesturing for them to come forward. He was smiling in an apologetic manner.
"It's...just an accident, right?" asked Taro nervously.
Kiseki reached down and pulled the stick, going into reverse. He looked over his shoulders and started driving backwards - very quickly.
"H-Hey," protested Junko as they lurched forward.
"What's going on?" cried Taro.
Suddenly there were two very loud bangs. Junko and Masae screamed in fright. The car screeched to a halt. The three high schoolers looked around and saw a trio of men emerging from the forest behind them. They were carrying guns. When they looked forward they saw the man in with the cast had been joined by two others. They were also armed.
"Get your heads down," barked Kiseki, looking over his shoulder.
Masae, Junko and Taro complied. As they huddled in their seats, Kiseki reached for something in his pocket.
"It's no good," he hissed, tapping his phone. "They have an RF jammer. I'm not getting any reception."
Outside, the men were getting closer.
Junko turned to Taro. Though she looked frightened there was also a glimmer of resolve in her eyes. Taro nodded.
"Masae-sempai!" he called. "Banana parfait!"
"What?" exclaimed Kiseki, bewildered.
Masae sighed. "How do you want to do this?"
"We need time to change. Ito-san! Can you distract them for a while?"
"Distract them?" said Kiseki, now sounding almost angry. "No! Stay in the car and keep your heads down. Let me handle this."
The agent opened the door, stepped out onto the road and shut the door behind him.
"No, wait, we can help!" protested Junko.
He took a few steps towards the men near the truck, hands in the air to show he was unarmed.
"Wait, we aren't going to be able to fit in the car," said Masae frantically. "We'll be crushed. Even if it doesn't kill us it'll still be agony and we won't be able to run or fight."
"We can't just get out of the car and change either," said Taro fearfully. "We won't be able to move much and they'll shoot at us and...and they might get lucky and hit us in the brain or spine!"
Junko hesitated.
"Then...then I'll change," she said firmly. "Just me."
"What about Ito-san?" asked Taro.
"I'll save him. Hopefully they'll all be shooting at me."
Taro's eyes widened.
"You can't be serious!" cried Masae, who then peered up through the passenger side window. "He's...they're searching him and...they hit him! Now they're...no, no no!"
"I'll draw their attention," growled Junko, her voice noticeably deeper. "Get out of the car when the yakuza behind us are distracted."
"I-...fine!" snapped Masae, lowering her head.
Arms already growing fur, Junko reached for the door handle.
"Junko-san!" said Taro sharply.
Junko stared at him. Her eyes had turned yellow.
"We are not immortal," he said firmly. "Remember that."
Nodding, Junko opened the door and climbed out.
* * *
Hajime kicked the agent one more time for good measure. He watched dispassionately as the man writhed about on the road, clutching his ribs, groaning in pain. He nodded at one of his men who, understanding his unspoken command, reached into his pocket and brought out a pair of zip ties. He holstered his gun, knelt and bound the agent's hands and feet together with practiced ease.
"Get him in the truck," barked Hajime as he watched his man work. "The rest of you get the ki-" he looked up and stopped mid-sentence. His jaw dropped.
A figure had emerged from the car. As it shut the door it tore its shirt from its body and, while walking, half-stepped half-ripped out of its skirt. It took a few additional steps before kicking its shoes off.
Hajime stared at it. He'd seen this figure before; not clearly as he did now, but in brief and terrifying flashes as dozens of beams of light frantically moved back and forth in a dark forest. It was not as large as the other two that had wielded wooden swords but still dwarfed him and most of his men. It had a thick pelt of black fur that lightened to a charcoal grey along its chest and torso and, somewhat disconcertingly, a mane of black hair on its head. Though bipedal its lower legs moved like that of an animal, standing on the balls of its feet, knees bent forward. Its paws were disproportionally larger than the rest of its body and sported sharp claws that emerged and retreated into their sheaths as it flexed and relaxed its stubby fingers. Its head - its face - was that of a wolf or at least wolf-like. Tufted, triangular ears could be seen through its hair, pulled back in a clear display of aggression. Its mouth and nose formed a shortened muzzle. It had many, many sharp teeth and was baring all of them, lips peeled back. Hajime made out a low, steady growl emanating from the creature. Its yellow eyes gleamed with an inner light.
One of his men behind the car screamed "It's the wolf-kami!"
Hajime recovered from the shock. "Shoot!" he bellowed.
The creature lunged forward, dropping to all fours. It dashed towards the three of them.
"Shoot it! Shoot it!" screamed Hajime.
One of his men leveled his gun at it but the creature slammed into him before he could fire knocking him to the road. As he rolled backwards his gun went sliding into the forest. The creature then circled around the remaining two men in a tight arc, moving at blinding speed. The remaining yakuza whirled around in panic trying to get a clear shot. Suddenly, it leapt towards him. The man managed to get three rounds off before it tackled him. It gripped the struggling man's gun and ripped it from his grasp. It punched him once, twice, three times before rising to face the astonished Hajime.
The creature threw the gun into the woods and snarled at him. Up close, Hajime could see the tight, powerful muscles barely concealed by its fur, its savage fangs and deadly, sharp claws. He spied several dark spot on its chest. He realized that all three of his underling's shots had hit the creature but had had no effect other than staining its fur.
Just like before.
"Boss! Boss!"
Hajime blinked. The three other men who had been positioned behind the agent's car had moved to the front and were pointing their guns at the creature.
"Get back!" one of them yelled.
Suddenly, the monster grabbed him and spun him around. Hajime yelped and tried run only for the creature to wrap its arm around his neck. Hajime struggled but its grip was like vice. He gasped as it brought its other paw to his throat, pressing its claws against his skin just hard enough to be painful but not actually penetrate.
"Shoot and he dies," growled the creature in a deep yet clearly feminine voice.
Hajime's men stared at it in surprise and shock. They exchanged nervous glances.
"Boss?"
"Do...do as it says," wheezed Hajime. He could feel the monster's hot breath across his scalp.
The men slowly lowered their guns.
"Throw them into the forest," commanded the creature.
The men hesitated, then, as one, tossed their weapons off the road.
"Untie him," said the creature.
Hajime swallowed. His eyes darted up at the creature and down at the agent, who was looking up at him, equally terrified. Eventually, one of his men hurried forward and cut the agent free with a pocket knife. Hajime watched in despair as his staggered to his feet, still clutching his bruised chest.
"Go with them," said the creature, addressing the agent in a slightly less intimidating tone.
The agent goggled. He took a few, halting steps backwards, still staring at them, and then ran. As he watched him go, Hajime spotted two teenagers crouching behind the car. As soon as the agent reached them they started running as well. The three of them disappeared down the road. Hajime realized they had snuck out after his men had come over to help him. They'd been played!
"Next time I...I...." the creature said. For the first time Hajime sensed some uncertainty in it. It rallied. "Next time you won't be so lucky," it growled.
With that, it shoved Hajime forward, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. Hajime screamed in rage and frustration. He whirled around and reached for the pistol concealed in the back of his pants with his uninjured arm.
But the creature was already gone.
Hajime frantically scanned the forest. He spotted a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye but by the time he turned it was too late. It was gone.
Hajime roared. He whipped out his pistol and fired into the forest. Round after round flew through the air, kicking up dirt and leaves, splintering bark and branches. Eventually, all that came out of the gun were clicks.
Hajime slowly lowered his weapon. Face red, nostrils flaring, he turned and silently regarded his men. The two the creature had bowled over had recovered and were standing there sheepishly. The other three looked more astonished than ashamed. Hajime tightened his lips, sighed, and nodded at one of his men.
"Toss me a clip," he commanded.
Dazed, the underling reached into his jacket and tossed Hajime the requested rounds. Hajime detached the spent clip and loaded his pistol with the new one.
"We're going after them," he said firmly.
"What?" said one of his men.
"We're not going back to Mr. Shen empty-handed," yelled Hajime. "Especially since HE was the one who located them in the first place! We are going to drag those kids to him or die trying!"
"But...the kami!"
"They're not kami."
"Then what are they? I...I shot that thing, boss. Right in the chest and it just sort of twitched but kept going. Just like back at the park."
"I don't know exactly what they are but I know who they are," said Hajime fiercely. "They're they kids we're after."
"What?"
"They're the kids Shibusawa ran into when he chased the American down," said Hajime, putting his gun away. He marched past them. "They're the ones who ambushed us at the park. I even recognized that one." He stopped suddenly. Then, he turned back.
"Haru! Get the shotgun," he ordered.
As his underling hurried to the truck Hajime reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet pouch and loosened its draw strings. He peered inside. Dozens of jagged, silvery pellets glittered within. There were also small bunches of dried leaves and two cloves of garlic. He closed the bag and smiled humorlessly.
"And get me those wooden stakes I brought!" he added.
