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Two Halves Whole

Page 17

by Melissa Abigail


  Haruna moved to pick up the cut-out, and that’s when her carelessness got the better of her.

  The topmost folder in her arm wobbled until it slipped, and its contents plunged out. Haruna groaned and cursed her sloppiness, but suddenly something else caught her eye. Or rather, several things. Piles of envelopes. And one unsealed envelope, with several photos that had fallen out of it.

  Tossing the remaining items onto the desk, she retrieved the photos from the floor. Her breath hitched.

  Her mother.

  They were photos Haruna hadn’t seen at first. She flipped through, noticing a photo that was of her mother and father, dressed casually, posing on what Haruna presumed was some busy street in Tokyo. She found another picture—one of herself as a baby, strapped to her father in a carrier. She saw a few more like these and gradually felt her heart contort, knot, swell. She didn’t stop rifling through until one slightly out-of-focus photo grabbed her attention. It was her mother holding an infant, smiling openly at the camera as she nestled it close against her chest. To her side was a chubby, petite woman with bronzed-skin and long, curly—almost poufy auburn hair; a woman who Haruna noticed was gorgeous enough to be a beauty queen, with the defiant smirk of someone who made fun of beauty queens.

  But didn’t that woman look familiar?

  “Wait—that’s—” Haruna gasped.

  It was the same woman from the odd photos with her mother. The ones her grandmother had hidden. Haruna squinted. The baby had a light dusting of dark hair, but beyond that, the features weren’t clear. This didn’t make sense. Haruna knew from other photos that she had been bald as a newborn, and when hers started to come in, it was blonde. She inspected the photo more closely, and suddenly she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. In the background was a handsome, deeply tanned man in the far corner. His eyes were intense, obscured by his dark, sweeping locks that crept past his shoulders. And that scowl… that scowl looked a lot like…

  Haruna's pulse throbbed.

  This man. Was it possible that he was…?

  Haruna glanced over shoulder. No Marie. Haruna reached for her phone in her jean pocket and tapped frantically at the keypad. She waited. Waited. No answer.

  Haruna looked back at the desk. The envelope that the photos had fallen out of. She slapped her phone down and fumbled with the envelope. The name in the corner: Grace Mitsukai. It had been mailed from Japan, addressed to mother from daughter. Haruna pulled out a neatly handwritten letter that had been tucked inside. Brows drawn together, she read:

  “Mother… it’s been a while, but…”

  Haruna could feel the gloom, the shadows writhing within as she read every last word of the letter, following it to the end. So it was like she thought. Everything she had suspected about her and Ryu, everything the necklace implied. Haruna was numb. Worse than numb—revolted. But she wanted to be wrong. She needed to be proven wrong. She snatched up her phone and fired off another text. It felt like infinity, like he’d never text back. Was he ignoring her? She tapped the screen again and before she could brace for a response—

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Haruna spun, heart rocketing through her chest. Marie stood there with a plum-coloured pout, a crease between her brows and the musk of stale alcohol wafting like auras into the air. Haruna pocketed her phone…

  No.

  Why was she so afraid? She could not, she would not back down or be afraid. Not of this woman. Not anymore.

  “Look what I found.” Haruna held up the letter in one hand. She snatched up the photos with the other.

  “H-How in the world—?”

  “You’ve been lying to me this entire time! You knew about Ryu?” Haruna had shouted, attempting to sound strong, wanting to be brave. But she couldn’t help it. Her throat tickled. Her voice cracked. And her face rapidly became streaked and soaked with tears, betraying the hurt behind the fear and fury. Marie seemed strangely, oddly still, but there was something in her pale, icy stare. Something that suggested the ice was on the verge of thawing.

  “I didn’t intend for you to find out this way—”

  “Tell me the truth! What happened to us?” Haruna cried, and her entire body shuddered along with the photos and envelope in her hands. She wasn’t prepared to hear the truth, but she knew she must. “How did our parents really die?”

  Ryu watched as the water circled and disappeared through the drain, a gurgling “whoosh” trailing it. He stared at the dark hole with intrigue, wondering if it were at all possible for him to be like that water, if he too could disappear through some mysterious vortex and become lost forever to the sea.

  Roughly towelling off his wet hair, he slowly rose to his feet. Ryu avoided looking into the mirror as he turned, not the least bit interested in catching sight of his own nakedness, or wanting to see a hint of his tattooed shoulders. The last time he’d done so was yesterday, and his first response was throwing up in the sink.

  Two days had dragged on by since the Friday he’d been given his newest assignment, and now it was Monday. He had had four days total to get the job done. That meant there was one day left. Just one. Just in time for the holidays.

  School was out for all of them, so Ryu was forced to contend with his brothers 24-7— albeit, brothers who wanted nothing to do with him. He supposed it would be some time before one of them folded and told Katsuo what he had suggested—that they defect and run away. In fact, Ryu almost prayed they would blab so he could end this horrible nightmare he’d been passing off as a life. Until word got around to, say, Tyler, there was a slim chance of it happening. Snitching wasn’t a part of the game.

  Unless it came with benefits, anyhow.

  Ryu dressed, not bothering to throw on more than a simple vest and the black dragon-back hoodie Julian had given him. Ryu noticed it had started to wear away at the wrists, showing its age. He returned to the sleep chambers and the room he shared with Tyler. At once he was met with the sound of an object rattling against the dresser. Ryu took up his phone and dread surged through him at the sight of her name.

  Funny how that went.

  On Friday, before parting ways with Haruna, he’d promised to call her. She was mad at him again. "See you next year," she had said. Ryu never did call her. Now, there it was—the second or third missed call since the text message she’d sent him before he'd gotten into the shower. He didn’t read the text and he didn’t want to. He hated to admit it. It had been a long time since he'd felt this scared. Scared, because he couldn’t help but feel like this entire fiasco was his fault. Over the last three days, all he could ask himself was why Haruna had become a target. An ordinary, church-going, school-obsessed girl with no family except some geezer. The least criminal-minded person there could be. He couldn’t comprehend it at first. But he thought back to the way everyone had lost their heads after she’d come to visit, followed by their reaction after he’d gone to spend what little time he had with her at the party.

  Ryu put two and two together.

  Katsuo must have told Matsumoto about her.

  Wasn’t it Katsuo who had approached Ryu the other day while meditating? Hadn’t Katsuo said something like “glad to know you’re focusing on what’s important”? To the Syndicate, Haruna had become a distraction for their most prized, most promising recruit.

  And Matsumoto? Matsumoto hated distractions. The solution was to get rid of her.

  Now what was Ryu's next step?

  Punch a wall? Break something? Smoke up a storm? Or maybe cut a mile through his flesh?

  He just felt hollow. Empty. It must have been from the shock.

  Ryu zipped up his jacket, tucked his Glock away under his belt, pocketed his cell, and started out the door. He figured going for a walk was the best he could do for now, even if it solved nothing. He was nearly a block away from the house when his phone vibrated again.

  He could take it no longer.

  Ryu withdrew the phon
e. Heaving a sigh he opened the message.

  We need to meet. It’s important.

  Meet? She hadn’t a clue how dangerous, how deadly that proposition would be for her. For either of them. Back when he had confessed, she asked the question: "If you’re this kind of person, how do I know you won’t hurt someone…or hurt me?"

  You don't know. The truth is, someday I probably will. That was the answer.

  But Ryu had responded with silence. He hadn’t answered her then. He had no way of knowing of what he was capable. But this… he hadn’t seen this coming. He didn’t think “someday” would come this soon.

  Ryu lowered his eyes and typed.

  I can’t.

  Shortly after, not even a minute later, came the buzz of her next text.

  Have you ever played Street Fighter?

  Ryu stared dully at the screen. What?

  Short of typing the question mark on his one-word response, the screen flashed to indicate an incoming call. Ryu felt his skin prick. Katsuo’s name glared back at him. He gulped. Exhaling deeply, he answered, mumbling in Japanese, “Hai, Aniki?”

  “Change of plans. It's called off.”

  “Called off?”

  “You’ve been spared, Ryu-kun.”

  Ryu gaped ahead at nothing. It, meaning the hit against Haruna. Dare he ask why?

  Katsuo continued, “We need you to collect dues off Rosedale. You know where. I want you to go there and come straight back home before sundown.”

  With a click, Katsuo hung up and Ryu couldn’t catch his breath. He had been assigned the same old racket—collecting “protection money” from poor saps. Three days had gone by… was the hit truly off? If so, at the last minute Matsumoto had changed his mind, but change for Matsumoto was a rare thing. So what exactly happened to cause him to do it?

  Katsuo pocketed the phone. Hunched over on a crate in the attic, he crossed his arms. His girlfriend, Claudia, stood opposite from him, mirroring his pose. Right on cue… her smile.

  “I bet he’s happy,” Claudia drawled, her sarcasm at full-force.

  Katsuo nodded. “It sickens me.”

  Claudia chuckled. “Ki-kun. He’s of that age. He can’t help it.”

  “Heh. That age? My priorities were different at that age." Katsuo uncrossed his arms to gesture, pointing at himself. "One minute Father asks me to make sure the kid goes through with it—then he changes his mind. You know, I gave Tyler the job. I asked him to do it if Ryu backed out. Sometimes feels like a wasted effort trying to save this kid’s ass.”

  "Wait. You asked Ty-kun to do it? As in, you asked him to do it secretly and give Ryu the credit?"

  "You have any other suggestions? Not like it matters anyway, since it's called off."

  "But Ty's father did the same for you and look how that turned out—"

  "That wasn't the same."

  "Oh?" Claudia raised a brow. "You know, Ty asked me if Ryu's done the job yet. He's eager to do it."

  Katsuo rolled his eyes. "It isn't his business to know, anyway. Those brats don't need to know more than what's necessary."

  “I don't think it's fair, Ki-kun. You’ve always been pushing Ryu, but not Ty-kun. Don’t you think you should give him a chance the way you do with Ryu? Is Ryu really so special?”

  "Not sure 'special' is the word." Katsuo sighed. "Besides, what's fair? Not life. Isn't it why we do this shit?"

  "That's not the point, Katsuo-kun! When will you accept it? Ryu-kun is not Akuma!"

  Katsuo narrowed his eyes. She'd reverted to his given name. She was livid. Katsuo scoffed. "Look who's talking."

  "It doesn't bother me like it does you. I might have hated the bastard, but you liked him. Mitsukai too. Mitsukai was Ki-kun's friend also, ne?"

  Katsuo went into his pocket and retrieved a half-empty carton of Belmont’s. He took his time lighting one up, slowly sucking in its smoke, slowly exhaling and filling the room with it. He addressed Claudia with a wooden stare. “Why don’t you be a good girl and grab me a cold one?”

  "You're kidding?"

  "I'm not."

  Claudia looked about to argue, but instead she held her tongue and stomped off.

  At last, Katsuo was left alone with his thoughts.

  What had Matsumoto been thinking—assigning such an insanely difficult task to the boy? Was it a test? Was he trying to see if Ryu could prove to be a true White Flower? If that was the case, maybe Katsuo was just prolonging the inevitable. He loathed to think that even after all these years, Ryu would still turn out to be so much like his father. He looked like him. Talked like him. And soon it seemed, he’d go out like him, bursting into flames.

  It shouldn't have been a surprise.

  But Katsuo couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one being punished. Punished for failing to complete the task he’d been assigned thirteen years ago. It didn't matter that Katsuo had been the most loyal or trusted after all these years. It seemed the rumours were spot on. Matsumoto was no stranger to vengeance, and he served it at absolute-zero, beyond the coldest cold.

  Creeeak.

  Muscles tense, Katsuo shifted on the spot, spinning around with a deep scowl. Old houses. Katsuo hated old houses.

  “Back.”

  Katsuo jerked his head upwards, opening his mouth to let out more smoke as Claudia returned with two beers, handing him one and reserving one for herself. At least he had one reason to keep her around, though she was bad at this too. Tall and fair, feminine and pretty, but not classy at all. Far from wifey-material, this woman. He supposed it suited her just fine though.

  Katsuo snapped the can open and chugged. Once satisfied, he wiped his mouth, eyes trained on her.

  “You met with Father earlier. Tell me. Are you the reason why he changed his mind?” Katsuo said after a loud gulp.

  Claudia moved to another crate, parking herself there. She shrugged.

  “It’s simple. Say she ‘takes her own life.' They want to know why a girl who has it all does it. Next thing, people say they seen them—Ryu and her—together. He’s the prime suspect. It leads back to us.” She sighed. “Besides, we both know Ryu wasn’t going to follow through.”

  “Smart girl,” Katsuo remarked thoughtfully. “Then what’s Plan B?”

  Claudia laughed. “You wouldn’t believe it. Kidnapping. Ransom. Boring, right?"

  "So you suggested something better?"

  "Oh, not me. It was the Councillor—that man stands to lose everything." Claudia took back too much of her drink in one gulp and winced. "Ah… I don't think any of us could have come up with something so cruel…"

  “Go on?”

  “He said, ‘send her home’.”

  “Heh?”

  Claudia's eyes darted to the ceiling. “She’s very pretty. Imagine how much she would bring in? And with that bitch for a grandmother, they’ll say she's a runaway. So she’s gone—point made, Vangelis is off the hook and we make money. Win-win, I guess.”

  Katsuo regarded her dully. "How would the Syndicate get her to go quietly?"

  "We use a fall-guy. She doesn't have to know she's going somewhere, you know. They offer her a speedball. One hit is enough. She's yours for life. Just ask the girls on Main Street."

  "A tried and true strategy. I'm sure even the Councillor would attest."

  It might have been borderline genius, concocting a plan that Matsumoto himself couldn’t derive on his own. But Claudia had been wise to point out that Matsumoto's assassination plot would have failed. She wasn’t just a pretty face. Claudia had a role in the Syndicate because she really was like a crane—enduring and wise. If it weren’t for her, Katsuo would have thrown in the towel years ago. And Tengoku House was high-stress. Questioning the operation was tantamount to treason, but sometimes he wondered.

  "I think I'm getting too old for this," Katsuo groaned.

  "You're not much older than me, and I refuse to age."

  Katsuo gave a snort. Claudia was Chr
istmas cake, but he loved her anyway—as much as a guy who refused to commit to a woman could.

  "You don't regret it? Choosing this?" Katsuo asked, giving Claudia a discerning look, twiddling the cigarette between his fingers. "It's not too late to get out."

  "Hm. Maybe. Sometimes. A little late to ask the question, though." She leered. "Besides, aren't I 'Christmas cake’? No good after twenty-five?"

  Katsuo watched with raised eyebrows as she reached for the box of cigarettes. He handed her his lighter.

  “Not sure about those kids. They’re not too bright, most of them," Claudia muttered.

  "They’ll never have the loyalty of true ninkyo dantai," Katsuo added.

  “What's loyalty these days? It's all about the money."

  "But you know they’ll never amount to more than cannon fodder. Even Matsumoto knows it. We got one little autistic brat—beyond hacking, he's unreliable, virtually useless. Dan loses money. Bradley’s too impulsive. And the Native kid …”

  “Albert?”

  “I think it was a mistake to bring him here. He stands out too much. He gets stopped on the street more than the others. At some point, he’ll just attract the wrong kind of attention. And too many boys either do themselves in or end up like Julian.”

  Claudia shook her head, her red lips forming a perfect circle as she puffed. "Why should anyone blame us? Everyone knows you can’t fix bad kids.”

  November 7, 1994

  Mother,

  It’s been a while, but I wanted to give you an update. It’s a boy! He was born a few days ago, maybe a little over a week or two by the time you receive this? He’s the same age as Haruna Catherine. Did you see, Mother? I included the picture with me holding him. Takeshi has been going on and on about this new game, Street Fighter. He has a strange sense of humour so I think the baby might be named “Ryu.” It’s written like this: 隆. My Japanese isn’t good yet but Seijin says it means “prosperity.” If you write “Ryu” a different way it means “dragon.” Isn’t that interesting?

 

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