Two Halves Whole

by Melissa Abigail

  The waiter appeared right away. Matsumoto ordered. She ordered.

  The kitchen had to have been on overdrive that night. A plate of fettuccini with clam sauce for him and a carbonara for herself had arrived within fifteen minutes. All the while, Marie's eyes were drawn to his fingers, verifying whether all ten remained. Yakuza were known for lopping them off as a show of penance. Matsumoto had nearly finished his meal, but Marie had hardly touched her own. He coughed, and she met his gaze with a sharp stare.

  "I have a feeling, Ms. Smith, that there is more to this meeting than meets the eye."

  She pursed her lips. Time to end the charade already? So be it.

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there is no class-action lawsuit," she said coolly. "I did, however, want to meet with you for other legal matters."

  His brows lifted. “Oh?"

  “You’re the owner of at least three massage parlours. Don’t tell me the one on Main Street isn’t just a front for illegal activity?”

  Matsumoto's veneer was a tough one to crack, but she could see the corner of his lip hint at a scowl.

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to—”

  “What about a Japanese man by the name of Takeshi? Do you deny knowing who he is, also?”

  “It’s a common name, Ms. Smith. Perhaps you presume I know every Japanese?”

  Marie folded her hands, trying her best to quell her nerves. It was at that moment that the waiter had come over with a bottle of red wine. Matsumoto had ordered it. Marie averted her gaze from it and continued her line of questioning, determined to not be led off course.

  “Akuma. It was the moniker he went by. He also had a son of mixed origin. Don't tell me none of that sounds familiar.”

  “Ah, I’m afraid not,” Matsumoto wiped his mouth with a napkin, "but all these questions, Ms. Smith. Am I on trial?"

  Marie felt the smile tug at her lips.

  "Despite your government's best efforts, there are records, Matsumoto. The cover-up happened in 1998. You came here in 1999. What do you know about the Mitsukai murders? Or perhaps, it was you who ordered the hit?"

  He scoffed. “I don’t know what your sources are for whatever fairytale you’re spinning. Everyone knows I am merely a successful entrepreneur.”

  “Answer me. You're a leader within a crime syndicate based in Japan, correct? So yes or no—did you order those murders?”

  Matsumoto gave a deep, throaty chuckle.

  “You seem interested in my hands. I assure you, you will find nothing staring at them." He took a corkscrew to the bottle of wine and something flashed in his eyes. "Also, Ms. Smith, please be aware. I came here for two reasons. One of them was to start a new life as all newcomers do, as you did."

  "What do you know about me?" Marie spat.

  "Do you think I didn't do my own homework before meeting with some strange caller threatening to bring a lawsuit against me? Yes. I know exactly who you are." The cork popped. He tilted the bottle to his glass, but stopped abrupt. His eyes flitted over. "Shall I pour a glass for you as well?"

  Marie’s jaw grew slack and her brows furrowed together. "No, thank you."

  He narrowed his eyes, allowing crow’s-feet to form at their corners. His offer hadn’t been genuine. He filled his glass, his toothy grin still present. He’d poured it slowly. Taunting her.

  "My second reason for coming to this city is quite simple. To keep an eye on you. And that precious granddaughter of yours."

  Marie clenched her fists, sneering under her breath, “You bloody bastard. You ought to go straight to Hell."

  "Well that's not nice. Aren’t you a Christian?" He looked up, eyes wide in mock condemnation.

  "There are more than a few choice words from where that came from. Mum was an Englishwoman who didn't mind telling it as it is. I daresay—Christian or otherwise—I favour her quite a bit. Oh, mark my words, I will take this straight to the RCMP and expose you for the murderous brute you are.”

  Again, he chuckled. He took a loud sip of the wine. Slow. Deliberate. He gulped loudly. He gave a bombastic sigh.

  Marie grit her teeth. That good, hm? Enjoying yourself, are you? Just you wait until—

  “You should think carefully about saying reckless things to just anyone,” he said in a low drawl.

  “I’m not afraid of anything. I’m a widow who lost her only daughter—for thirteen years I’ve had to live with that scar. The only thing I have left is anger.”

  "Anger is a powerful weapon. Keep one thing in mind, however. Only one person saw what happened that night. Do you know who that is, by any chance? Because I would think that that person should watch her back." Matsumoto drew his seat away from the table, calmly coming to a stand. "Good day to you, Ms. Smith."

  He turned and glided between tables and through the aisles. Upon nearing the exit, two men in black suits escorted him out. Marie hadn't even seen them, though it was clear they had been standing there for some time. She lowered her gaze, noting that Matsumoto's plate was clean. He'd even left cash to cover the bill, enough for them both. And at the centre of the table, one item remained, the most lovely and most spiteful of parting gifts. The bottle of red wine.

  The boy looked his age, but there was a definite, hardened look about him lately, like he had seen all the horrors of the world, the underside of life, too much of it and too soon. Despite this, he had managed to crack a smile. For the first time, he’d flipped his senpai to the ground.

  “Yes! I did it!” he shouted, enthusiasm radiating across his face.

  Ryu hoisted himself into a sitting position. The boy held out a hand to help him up and he accepted it with a grin. They finished their sparring, and bowed to each other.

  “Not bad. You’ve nailed the throw. Sweeps are good. If you tighten your hook technique I think you can take on the best of them,” Ryu said.

  “You think?” The boy sighed, staring absently into space. It was with that small amount of uncertainty he expressed that Ryu saw the side of him that was still innocent. He reminded Ryu so much of the way he’d once been.

  “Hey, Aniki,” the boy continued with bulging eyes and an eager grin. “Maybe I can take you on someday. No holding back.”

  “Not a chance,” Ryu grunted, pulling the kid into a nuggy he tried to wrestle his way out of, but couldn’t. “Anyway, enough of that. Let’s go chill and eat downtown. What you say?”

  “Cool,” the boy said. “Just let me get something real quick.”

  Ryu waited at the front gate of Tengoku House, hands plunging in his pockets as he looked up into the sky. It was windy and he hated the thought of having to go into the city centre so underdressed in an oversized button-up shirt, loose sweats, and an old ball cap. But what choice did he have? Clothing options were slim.

  Ryu heard the patter of footsteps and turned to see the boy in cargo shorts, carrying a book bag with worn-out straps over his shoulder. Ryu gave a wry stare.

  “Julian, we’re just going downtown. You don’t need to bring luggage with you.”

  The kid reminded Ryu of a terrier, a ball of limitless energy and eagerness. Ryu shook his head, deciding not to question it and they moved on to the bus stop.

  Downtown Campbelton was part small shops and old scenic landmarks, part high-rises and condos, a far cry from the permanent decay of the East Side. The cherry trees were coming into bloom, painting the sky with clouds of pink and white. It was lively, even for a Saturday mid-afternoon. Ryu used what cash he’d managed to hold onto to treat them both to spicy kebabs from a food truck stationed by the city park, and they found spots on a weathered bench. He couldn’t allow Julian to pay despite his insisting. Ryu was his older brother.

  Besides, Julian deserved to be treated.

  Especially after what went down with the Rooster Kingz the other day.

  Ryu finished his kebabs under five minutes. He passed an eye over Julian who was only halfway through his. Julian always ate slowly
. He did most things slowly, including learn.

  “To savour the moment,” Julian would say, always with a grin. Ryu suspected there was much more to it than that. Something Julian couldn’t help.

  Ryu averted his gaze upwards, watching the clouds shift and twist. Beautiful. Peaceful. Air touched by the fresh scent of spring. Ryu got the feeling of eyes on him, and he turned to see Julian eyeing him almost the same way he watched the sky. Ryu punched Julian lightly on the shoulder.

  “Who do you think you're staring at, you little punk?”

  “I was thinking, Aniki, you and I kinda look alike,” Julian said.

  “Heh?”

  “Okay, sure—you’re way better-looking than me. But wouldn’t it be cool if you were Pinoy too? Like, what if you're half? Then we could be brothers for real.”

  Ryu turned up his eyes. “What are you going on about? Just finish that already.” He nodded towards the kebab that Julian was still no more than partway through eating.

  Julian grumbled. “Oh, all right.”

  After a few more minutes, Julian finished. He lifted his book bag onto his knee, then pulled out a black sweater.

  “What’s that?” Ryu asked.

  “It’s for you,” Julian said.

  Julian unravelled it, holding it up for Ryu to see. He flipped it around to show off its large hood, and the sheen of a coiling dragon motif in neon green and silver. Ryu didn’t know what to say as he watched Julian’s smile grow.

  “You like it? I saw it and thought of you. ‘Cause your name means ‘dragon,' right? Check it, it glows in the dark, too—sick, right?”

  Ryu scowled. “Where did you get this? How could you afford something like this?”

  “I pawned something I took,” Julian said in a muffled tone. “Whatever.”

  “Yo, are you sure it’s okay? What did you take?” Ryu pressed.

  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  Ryu sighed. Man, this kid’s just not bright.

  “You should’ve gotten one for yourself. Why did you get it for me?”

  “’Cause you're my brother,” Julian said quietly, then he lowered his eyes. “Nobody ever cared about me ‘til I came here. Out of everyone, you’ve always looked out for me the most. And when the Roosters kicked my ass, you were the first one to defend me when everyone else called me dumb and stupid.” His lip trembled as he spoke. “This is to thank you.”

  Ryu frowned. “Ugh, don’t cry. You wanna be a gangster and you’re gettin' all sentimental?”

  Julian shoved the sweater in Ryu’s open arms and got to his feet with a yawn and stretch. He pulled on his book bag and started down the sidewalk. “We better get going. It’ll be a crazy night, eh?”

  “Yo, I’m not wearing this thing,” Ryu retorted as he followed after him.

  Julian chuckled. “I bet you will. It’s still cold.”

  “No way! A dragon hoodie? This is corny! Mad corny,” Ryu protested with a grin.

  “Might as well get used to being corny then, ‘cause it’s yours now!” Julian tittered before running off, scurrying, crossing the street, not looking both ways. Agitated, Ryu hurtled across the street after him, barely evading the shrieking, honking cars that were forced to stop. Dealing with this kid was like dealing with a toddler.

  But it was weird, wasn't it? Julian was always able to make him smile.

  It was ancient history. Why had the memory come just then?

  Ryu gawked at his hand. He noticed that he was shaking. Shaking and sweating even though it was December, too cold outside to feel hot enough to sweat. He shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts so he could return to a place of mental peace. Nothingness.

  But no matter how Ryu tried, he could no longer find it.

  All he could do was endure the constant nightmares, daymares—flashbacks.

  Idiot. Ryu self-scolded. This isn't the Da Vinci Code. You know why this is happening.

  Those final days with Julian reminded Ryu of how deep this rabbit hole went. Suffering was what happened when one became too attached to those whose lives were as transient as cherry blossoms in the spring. Ryu had gotten those same flowers tattooed on his back for a reason. It was a reminder and a promise to never get too attached to anyone again.

  Ryu stared dully at the small book in his hand. Haruna had given him this… and he still couldn’t understand. Did she think she could change him, save him with some stupid book? When Ryu stopped to think, Damon was right. Ryu was treading muddy waters. He was barely staying afloat, one wrong move away from sinking under completely. He had no place in this world—her world. She had no place in his. And if Haruna thought she was Alice, like Alice she couldn’t fit in a world like his, where up was down. Where nothing made sense.

  But one thing Ryu knew for sure. The craziest thing he’d ever done wasn’t the mob stuff. The craziest thing was falling for a girl who thought something like a prayer book could change his life.

  Ryu heard the crunch of shoes against stones and gravel. He pocketed the book before moving away from the wall he leaned on and watched the looming shadow. Its owner slouched around the corner. Seth froze in his tracks. Their eyes met. Ryu frowned. If he had thought he’d found the one place where he could be left alone aside from his car, he’d been mistaken.

  “You’re way out here?” Seth mumbled, peering at the many trees around them, including the one Ryu stood camouflaged under.

  “If I go to the other place, it’d be a problem,” Ryu muttered.

  The “other place” was Jackson’s little hangout and the last thing Ryu needed was to be pushed to the edge again. He’d likely break a little more than phones and noses this time.

  Teeth, maybe.

  Maybe spinal cords.

  “Good point,” Seth murmured. He took out a cigarette of his own and lit up. Both boys stood at a distance from each other. Seth spoke again.

  “About the party. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry.” He kicked loose a stone lodged in concrete. “Actually, I said a lot of stuff I shouldn’t’ve lately.”

  “‘S’all good,” Ryu mumbled. “It got me thinking, though. Damon seems to think I should tell Haruna about… stuff.”

  Seth drew back. "He knows? How?"

  "Long story."

  "Dunno, man. Maybe you should tell her. You love her don't you?"

  Ryu released a deep groan. "I’m not sure I even know what that means…"

  “Oh, so you’re in denial? Still?”

  Ryu gave a short laugh, but only out of frustration.

  “Denial? This isn’t about that,” Ryu strained to keep his voice steady. “During that game, I just said I hit someone and it freaked her out. If I tell her who I am, will she even want to look at me again? And why do I care? I don’t even know why… and I hate it.” Ryu grimaced. “I don’t know—is that what you call ‘love’?”

  Seth remained quiet for a second or two, focused on his cigarette as though puzzling over whether to put it out. “You know, I always knew you liked her. I felt the same way about Elle. It took me five years to ask her out because I was scared like you are now. Following a different religion, not having money, being a loser like me—may not be quite as wild as being a gangster—but to some it means you’re bad all the same." He shrugged. "I dunno what love is either, but denying how you feel and who you are, hiding from it… you’re hurting yourself. You can't hide a secret like that forever."

  “Who says I can’t?”

  “You still don’t get it, eh?” Seth sighed, sounding tired. He shook his head, throwing a hand up as he backed up to leave. “Do what you want, Ryu. You always do.”

  It was hard to tell what had changed, but it was plain to see that something had.

  Almost everything had.

  Haruna had returned home late Monday evening after band rehearsal. Sometimes she wondered why she remained in the school band, es
pecially since her attendance had waned over the years given her countless obligations. She had to remind herself—her mother had done it. If her mother could do it, so could she. Clarinet in hand, Haruna flitted through the house. She stopped short upon the sight of Harriet and Alice and spared a minute to play with them. Just a minute. Because that’s how long it was before she was confronted by the old woman again.

  Marie hadn’t found out that Haruna had lied about going to the Christmas pageant on Saturday, but she was constantly agitated as though she had. The putrid stench of alcohol that absorbed into Haruna’s nose, an odour long forgotten, had returned to their household. It was the enemy thought to be conquered; and yet, the monster had been resurrected. On the inside, Haruna was scared, and the constant fear she’d thought she'd never have to feel again, a fear that seemed to belong to a five-year-old child… it had returned.

  And Haruna couldn’t tell anyone.

  So when Haruna arrived at school the next day, she smiled as she always did. Greeted classmates as she always did. Spoke in class discussions, listened to others’ jokes, strolled the halls with sophistication and confidence as any head prefect would… Haruna did everything she would do normally. She did it all, even if things weren’t normal.

  “It sucks that you guys left early,” Tracy moaned.

  “I’m sorry. I had a curfew,” Haruna said, voice soft.

  Gabrielle gave a sympathetic nod. “Same here. I left not too long after you did, Haruna. And I only got away with it ‘cause I told my parents it was a girls-only party. They would have flipped if they knew Seth was there.”

  “Oh, oh! Tell them what they missed, Trace!” Angelique said, beaming.

  Haruna and Gabrielle watched as Tracy rolled her eyes to the ceiling, a huge grin plastered on her face. “Actually, Arlen asked me out.”

  “No way! He did?” Gabrielle exclaimed with an incredulous gasp.

  “What did you say? Yes?” Haruna pressed.