Skull Full of Kisses

by Michael West

  After a moment’s hesitation, she did as he said, allowing him to help her through the opening. The hem of her skirt snagged on a jagged shard of glass, but Koji reached out and carefully freed the fabric before it ripped.

  “Come on.” He pulled her into the darkened showroom. “The bridal sets are this way.”

  She yanked his hand back. “We shouldn’t be in here, Koji.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” he wondered aloud. “I’ve seen you pocket candy and CDs more than once. How is this any different?”

  “A pack of gum or a disc isn’t worth enough yen for anyone to care, but if you steal—” She glanced back across her shoulder, as if to make certain there were no witnesses standing there, then lowered her voice. “If you steal diamonds, they will hunt you down.”

  “Emiko, take a good look at this place. In a week, or a month, it’ll be torn down and the owners will start fresh. Sure, they may try to cut their losses, recover some of the jewels from this rubble, but many have fallen right into the earth. They won’t find them, and they won’t expect to. Insurance will just write them off and everyone will move on. Nothing we take from here is going to be missed.” He tugged on her fingers. “Now, let’s go.”

  She bowed her head, looking at the baggy white socks she had pushed down to her ankles. “Why not wait until we can afford—”

  “Do you know how many floors I would need to mop to save up for a proper diamond? It would take years, if ever!” His tone was harsher than he had intended, and Emiko cringed from it. He looked up at the split ceiling, drew in a deep breath, and said, “I’m a janitor, Emiko. I have nothing, except you. Please, just this once...let me give you something, something as precious to you as you are to me.”

  She sighed, and for a moment, he thought she would let go of his hand to crawl back outside. Instead, she allowed him to guide her deeper into the ruined store.

  Koji brought her to the first case on the right. He pulled his hand into the sleeve of his denim jacket, using it as a mitt to sweep away jigsaw bits of glass, revealing the diamond rings beneath. One immediately caught Koji’s eye. It was bright yellow gold with a huge, heart-shaped stone. He lifted it from the debris and held it up for Emiko’s inspection.

  “What do you think?”

  “Koji...”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  He slid it over the knuckle of her ring finger. “It’s yours.”

  She held up her hand, watching the gem sparkle in the fading daylight from the window, and he moved away from her to look in another case.

  “We should go now,” Emiko urged.

  Koji pulled several strands of milky pearls from a pile of glass. “What do you think of these?”

  She said nothing and he assumed she liked them. He stuck them in his pocket and moved on.

  “That’s enough,” Emiko called after him. “We should...Do you hear that?”

  And he did hear it: a faint but building rumble. An aftershock. Before he could speak a word of warning, the floor shifted beneath their feet and the fractured ceiling fell inward.

  ***

  Koji splashed cold water onto his face, as if to wash the vision from his eyes. Emiko died that day, but her memory was alive and well. Much of the time, it hid in the deep, unlit recesses of his mind, yet it was not shy and would climb unbidden into the light whenever it pleased.

  He regarded his reflection in the bathroom mirror, not liking what he saw. Getting sick in front of Takashi had been the last thing Koji wanted to do tonight. It had been a sign of weakness on this job designed by Boss Sokaiya to test his resolve.

  And now these thoughts of Emiko were scratching at his brain again, like a neglected pet demanding his attention.

  While it seemed disrespectful to compare his lover to that demon in the cellar, Koji had seen the similarities in their figures. They were both thin, both petite, with comparable bosoms and matching hair. Take away those bizarre features—the claws, wings, and horns—and it could easily have been the exquisite body he still dreamed of saving whenever he closed his eyes.

  Koji dried his face, ran his fingers through his spiky black hair, then opened the door and stepped back onto the floor of the restaurant. It was a Friday evening and the lounge was full of well-dressed businessmen who were busily chatting and throwing back drinks. In the corner, a guy stood singing Karaoke, his necktie wrapped around his head like a ceremonial bandana. Both his voice and his English were horrible, but his friends cheered him on just the same.

  On his way to the kitchen, Koji passed several patrons eating their dinners. He wondered how much appetite they would have if they knew what was going on in the room beneath their feet.

  When the head chef saw him, he bowed deeply. Boss Sokaiya owned the place, and all of his men were treated with great respect by the entire staff. It was one of the things that helped lure Koji into the life.

  “Ogawa-san,” the chef said to him, “I have your favorite dinner ready for you.”

  Koji offered a slight bow in reply, allowing the chef to stand upright again. “Thanks, Hirata, but I’m not very hungry tonight. How about some Udon instead?”

  “Certainly.” Chef Hirata gave several quick bows, as if to apologize for not anticipating the request, and turned to a member of his staff. “Udon, hurry!”

  Koji wanted to tell them that he was in no rush to return to the basement, to the thing that waited there, but he said nothing. He kept hearing the crunching and snapping of bones; the wet ripping sounds as it ate.

  Hirata thrust a carton and a pair of chopsticks at Koji. “Here you go, Ogawa-san.”

  They once more exchanged polite bows, and then Koji opened the basement door, slowly descending the steps into the room below. Takashi was waiting for him there, sitting at a small wooden table against the far wall, smoking another cigarette and thumbing through a stack of smuggled American porn magazines.

  Above his friend’s head, Koji noticed a circular design had been drawn upon the cinderblock. Inside the hoop, he could make out the characters for “heaven” and “earth,” and around the outside, someone had etched a continuous stream of symbols that were alien to him. Small, lit candles were mounted on either side of the circle, and from each candleholder hung a horse’s tail of black hair.

  “What’s that shit?” Koji asked.

  Takashi took his eyes off his porn and nodded at the symbol. “That ‘shit’ is what keeps Jiki here. Old magic.”

  “If that keeps it trapped, why do I have to stay?”

  “Because...” Takashi stabbed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and tossed the magazine back onto the stack. “...Boss Sokaiya asked you to.”

  “He doesn’t believe in the magic?”

  “He doesn’t like to take any chances.” Takashi stood and gave Koji a pat on the shoulder. “You did a good job tonight, brother.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t I take you to Tokyo tomorrow? We can go to a bathhouse and celebrate. There are some nice girls I can introduce you to.”

  The memory of Emiko threatened to rise again, to bully him into declining, but he forced it back down into the darkness. She was dead. It was time he stopped acting as if he died along with her, no matter how desperately he may have wished it. “Sure, I’d like that.”

  Takashi flashed a genuine smile, then made his way out, closing the door behind him, sealing the room.

  Koji turned to look at the demon. After its meal, it had returned to sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, its scaly hands firmly on its knees. Its mouth was now closed, restoring the appearance of femininity.

  It stared at him.

  “So...you don’t like the taste of bullets?” Koji tried to make his voice sound as threatening as possible. He pulled a Beretta 9mm pistol from under his trenchcoat and held it up. “Behave.”

  The thing gave no reply.

  Koji snorted and sat down. He smacked his gun on the table next to the magazine
s. The one Takashi had been eyeing slid from the top of the stack, opening to a photo of a blonde girl with a razor standing over a brunette with a crotch full of shaving cream. Koji glanced back at the creature, wondering what his brothers did down here all day and all night with a stack of porn on the desk and a naked demon-woman on the floor.

  He winced, then flipped the magazine to the safety of the Joe Camel ad on the back cover.

  I’d give anything to be somewhere else right now.

  ***

  Takashi motioned for Koji to have a seat at his table. “That’s a most generous offer.”

  “It’s not an offer. It’s a promise.” Koji sat down. “I’ll do whatever the Sokaiya-gumi asks of me.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Takashi slid a cigarette between his lips and held the pack out to Koji.

  He didn’t smoke, but he took one anyway and held it between his fingers. “Your recommendation to Boss Sokaiya means a lot.”

  “You’re a good kid.” Takashi took a silver lighter from his pocket and produced a tall flame. He lit his own cigarette, and then Koji’s. “You’re just down on your luck. You need a chance, a way to grow. You’re a janitor. Your father was a janitor. To the rest of society, that’s all you’re good for, cleaning up their shit.”

  Anger met embarrassment on Koji’s reddening face.

  Takashi exhaled smoke, then continued, “To the Yakuza, however, you are what you make of yourself. You have a chance to advance, to improve your situation.”

  Koji gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Make me proud to call you ‘brother.’”

  “I would like you to have these.” Koji reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a handful of necklaces. He slid them across the table.

  Takashi closed his fist around the pearls, and Koji tried not to show his great relief to be rid of them. “What are these?”

  “I told you, I’ve become quite a skilled thief, an asset to the Sokaiya-gumi. This is a show of my skill and my appreciation.”

  “Sake!” Takashi called out.

  A nearby waitress bowed and ran off to get the drink. The sharing of hot sake was the sealing of a deal in the Yakuza world. It meant a pledge of loyalty. It meant Koji was now part of the family.

  Takashi offered him a warm, welcoming grin. “Now, brother, how about something to eat?”

  ***

  Koji opened his box of Udon noodles. He pinched some between his chopsticks, brought them to his lips, and slurped them up.

  “Why?” The tone was soft and feminine.

  He turned around, expecting to see one of the waitresses from upstairs. Instead, he found the door to this basement room closed, the demon still sitting cross-legged on the floor a meter away, still staring at him, its wings folded tightly against its slender back.

  The creature’s lips parted and it said, “Why did you shoot him?”

  He dropped his noodles and reached across the table for his handgun.

  “You speak,” he said.

  Its red eyes focused intently upon his face. “Why did you kill Boss Yamamoto, Koji?”

  His mouth went dry and his heart raced. He had fired the bullet this creature spat back at him. “How do you...how do you know my name?”

  Jiki smiled. On a real woman, it might have been alluring. “I once asked the same question of you.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t remember?” It shook its head, but its smile never faltered. “You were walking behind me on the way to school, and you called out my name. You were a year my senior, and I wondered how you could know me. When I asked you, you said you’d been walking behind me for many months and had asked around school to find out who I was. When you learned my name...you waited several more weeks before calling it out.”

  It was how Koji first met Emiko. He stood and gestured with his gun. “Shut your mouth!”

  Jiki looked disappointed. “Why does such a happy memory upset you?”

  He took two steps toward the creature, the barrel of his gun a wagging finger. “You’re a liar!”

  It stared back at him, frowning. “I am what I am.”

  “You’re a fucking monster!”

  “Have you heard the story of the Jikininki, Koji?”

  He continued to keep the thing in his sights.

  “They were human men and women who were greedy in life. When they died, they were reborn as demons, damned to roam the earth with a hunger for carcasses.”

  “Emiko wasn’t greedy,” Koji roared.

  “I followed you into that jewelry store, didn’t I?” The creature’s tone was still quiet, sweet, and calm. “I said I didn’t want to be there, that I didn’t want anything, but that wasn’t true. I wanted it all.”

  He felt his stomach drop.

  Jiki held up its left talon, its rosy eyes focused on the ring finger. “When you gave me that huge diamond heart, I felt like an empress. And those pearls...oh...I wanted them so badly! I wanted everything. And then, I was struck down for my sin.”

  Koji’s hand was shaking, and the gun with it.

  “You know,” it went on, “the soul does not leave the body immediately. It lingers. As my body lay there, smashed beneath the debris, I could still see you.”

  His eyes grew wide.

  “I saw you cry, heard your screams, watched you dig in the rubble to free me, even though there was no hope.” Its grin suddenly withered. “And then your face was bathed in the glow of flashlights, and you ran.”

  A hot tear grew heavy in the corner of Koji’s eye.

  “You left me there...all alone,” Jiki continued in its hushed voice. “If you had confessed the crime, had told them why we were there, I might not have been punished. But instead, you just ran away.”

  “Emiko?” Koji lowered the gun. “Is it really you?”

  She nodded.

  Koji fell to his knees on the hard cement floor, his lip quivering. He leaned forward, held his face in his hands, and sobbed.

  “And now you’re much more than a thief, aren’t you?” Jiki reached out, running her talons through the short blades of his hair. “You’ve become a killer...a murderer.”

  He lifted his head, tears racing down his cheeks. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Takashi told me,” she said. “While you were upstairs he spoke to me the way a man speaks to a dog.”

  “I’m so sorry, Emiko.” Koji rose up and took her in his arms, holding her close to him, feeling the softness of her body against his. He ran his hands up her naked back and, when he touched her wings, his sobs became desolate wails. “Forgive me, please!”

  “Shhhhh.” Her scaly hands stroked his back. Her breath was hot in his ear, “I’ll forgive you, Koji. It’s not too late. You can still make this right.”

  “Just tell me what to do,” he begged.

  ***

  “Shoot the bastard.” It was Takashi’s voice, but the order was Boss Sokaiya’s.

  Koji glanced at him, then returned his eyes to the elderly man behind the black lacquered desk. Boss Yamamoto. Koji’s 9mm aimed at his receding hairline.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Yamamoto pleaded.

  “Sure he does.” Takashi holstered his own gun and made himself comfortable in one of the office’s high-backed leather chairs. The glass table in front of him displayed an elephant tusk carved into a detailed sculpture of bonsai trees and pagodas. Takashi put his shoes up on the glass, kicking the ivory to the carpet. “Unlike you, he respects the Sokaiya-gumi’s wishes.”

  Yamamoto, this man who controlled so much, could not control his own tears. “I have a wife, a daughter. My daughter, she’s...she’s pregnant. In three weeks, I’ll be a grandfather for the first time.”

  Takashi rolled his eyes. “Please, Koji, shut...him... up!”

  Koji started to squeeze the trigger, sweat beading on his forehead. He had to do this. Botching such an important task would mean facing Boss Sokaiya, would mean cutting off his
own little finger to atone for his failure. And that was if Sokaiya was feeling merciful.

  “Please,” Yamamoto cried, looking past the barrel of the pistol, looking right at Koji. “You’re not like your friend here. You’ve never killed anyone before.”

  Koji saw Emiko disappear beneath the jewelry store’s collapsing roof, saw her blood carving rivers in the dust, and a tear stung his eye. “Yes, I have.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Yamamoto’s death was different than Koji had envisioned it. The man’s head did not come apart and bloom into a flower of blood. It simply jerked back, and then snapped forward again. His lifeless body fell across the desk, leaking a scarlet pool that spread outward from the epicenter of his wound, greedily consumed the papers it found there.

  Takashi put his hands together in a slow clap, then reached down to unzip the dufflebag. “Let’s go to work.”

  ***

  Koji ripped the black tassels from the candleholders and held them in the flames. They instantly ignited. He dropped the strands in the ashtray, watching them burn, smelling the musty stench of their smoke.

  “It was my hair.” Jiki touched the top of her head, a small bald spot at the root of her center horn. “That horrible priest ripped it out.”

  Koji took off his over-sized trenchcoat and wrapped it around her body, hiding both her wings and her nakedness. He then grabbed her by the hand and led her toward the door. “There’s a car parked in the alley behind the restaurant. We walk up the stairs, out the back door, get in, and drive off to the mount—”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  At the sound of Takashi’s voice, Koji drew his 9mm and pushed Emiko behind him.

  His friend drew two pistols of his own, holding one out in each hand as he stepped into the room. “I asked you a question, brother.”

  “I’m taking her out of here.”

  “You’re taking her out.” There was concern in Takashi’s voice, but his guns remained steady. Both were aimed at Koji’s chest. “That’s not a woman, brother. It’s a monster, a demon.”

  Koji nodded. “And I had a part in that. Now, put your guns down.”

  Takashi shook his head, his eyes shifted to the symbol on the wall for a moment, to the hairless candleholders, then snapped back. “You’re about to make a horrible mistake, and I can’t let you make it.”