Two Halves Whole

by Melissa Abigail

  Mother, you didn’t reply to my last letter. I know it came as a surprise, but it’s been over a year. Please understand that neither of us will leave Japan unless you promise to help Takeshi. I know he’s done bad things in the past, but he’s not like that anymore. Please do change your mind, Mother. Think of our children. I'm worried about what will happen if we stay here. Surely you can look into your heart and forgive me?

  Even if you ignore my letters, I will keep writing.

  Love Always,

  Grace

  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I fear no evil, for You are with me.

  – Psalms 23:4

  CHAPTER nine

  what the fox said

  Ryu gazed bleary-eyed at his phone, reopening Haruna’s last text message. It irritated him just as much now as it did the first time he saw it.

  “If I play Street Fighter? Why does that even matter right now?”

  He tossed his phone onto the dresser and himself onto the bed. Exhausted and yet still unable to sleep soundly, as had been the case for weeks. He withdrew his necklace, poring over the shining silver chain and red-stone pendant. He eyed it until he could vaguely spot his own reflection in it.

  Then a strange sensation started.

  Ryu was falling, drifting in and out…

  He released the necklace and buried his hands in his lap. He faced ahead. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Nerves clutched onto him like a straightjacket. He didn’t even feel brave enough to look out the window. He wondered where they were. He wondered where they were going.

  “It's okay, you're safe now. I'm a friend of your father.”

  "Papa?" Ryu asked.

  He turned his head to the right, first catching a partial view of the driver and after of the man who sat beside him in the backseat. This man was his father’s friend? Ryu found himself staring hard at this man. The man grinned.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ryu! I’m four-years-old today.” He held up four fingers, showing him.

  The man furrowed his brows.

  "Ryu? From the video game?” He shook his head. “What a strange thing…”

  Ryu lowered his head. He didn’t look up at the man again, gazing only at the top of his running shoes, focused on its unravelled laces until his eyes shifted, and he spied those weird shoes on the man’s feet. Red, high-gloss leather. Unthinkingly, Ryu clutched his necklace. He twirled it, looking at the design on it.

  “What’s that?”

  The man bent over, eyes levelling with Ryu's. The man stretched a hand, about to touch. But it wasn’t anyone else’s necklace. It was Ryu's. Ryu ducked, cowering inwards, his arms folding over his chest and his neck.

  The man gave pause, then pulled back. “I’m sorry… it must be something important …”

  “Mama gave me this. Haru-chan has one too.”

  “Haru-chan?”

  “Mama said I’m not supposed to leave Haru-chan. Haru-chan gets sick sometimes.”

  “Haru-chan has a cold?” the man asked, his head tilted.

  “No. Sometimes Haru-chan can’t breathe.”

  The man nodded. "Ah, your name is Ryu. The necklace has a dragon on it. I can already tell Ryu-kun is very calm, clever, and strong. A protector. Just like a dragon.” The man’s voice lowered, and he spoke as though sharing a secret among friends. "Call me ‘aniki,' okay?”

  Ryu nodded but didn’t raise his head. “Aniki… will I see Haru-chan again? Or Mama and Papa?”

  The man didn’t speak, and Ryu saw from the corner of his eyes that the man looked serious, his mouth stretched tight.

  “Someday…” he said.

  A flash of light.

  Ryu blinked twice and became aware of the way his mouth hung open. The bed gave a strained creak as he shot onto his backside, bolt upright. He gaped down at his palms… his much larger palms. Ryu was back in his room again, though he had never left it.

  But what just happened?

  Ryu hadn’t fallen asleep, but he had spaced out. Not like with his usual daydreams or wandering thoughts. It was like reliving the day when Julian had given him the black hoodie. It felt too real. Too vivid. The car. The necklace… he’d gotten it on his fourth birthday. That man who spoke, that knew Ryu’s father, that Ryu called aniki, older brother… that man with the red shoes…

  Katsuo.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  It was a memory.

  Ryu’s eyes darted about, and he became aware, so aware of his heartbeat and his swelling and shrinking lungs behind his ribcage. Hyper-aware. Like he was only now experiencing the full totality of his existence, like it was about to be stripped away.

  Haru-chan? Could Haru-chan be…?

  Ryu flew to his feet and bounded for his dresser. He scrambled for his phone and dialled the numbers. The phone rang, rang but there was no answer. He dialled again. Then again. And again. Still—nothing. Emitting a growl, Ryu chucked it, and it bounced off a patch of carpet. He hurled open a dresser drawer and snatched up his car keys. He needed to get to her. He needed answers.

  The Singh case was taking its toll. In fact, ever since she'd met with Matsumoto, Marie had been reminded how sweet and satisfying a glass of wine could be, even dry. So that Monday, she had been binge drinking, dulling her senses to the point that she hadn’t even realised how careless she had been. Not until she got tired of hanging decorations. Not until she'd sobered up just enough to walk over and witness her granddaughter’s face hot with rage, with those accusatory eyes that unnerved and enraged her in turn. It was like staring at a mirror from half-a-century before. Was it her granddaughter she was looking at? Was it herself?

  Marie swallowed thickly, fighting the dryness in her mouth. She hadn’t meant for the girl to find those letters or those photos. But Marie had left that door ajar, left them there on the desk… left them out in the open for her to see.

  Why hide it anymore? What was the point?

  “How they really died…” said Marie in a daze. “Well, no doubt they were murdered.”

  “So telling me it was a car accident… was a bold-faced lie…”

  “I thought knowing was too much for a child.”

  “But to say that my father never loved us? Me and Mum? Why would you say those things?”

  “I had hoped…" Marie’s breath seeped out with a rattle as she shut her eyes, "I hoped that if you hated your father, you would never want to know about him or the past. I thought I could raise you differently from Grace. I didn't want you to end up like her—”

  “What was so wrong with Mum?” Catherine snapped. “What—she wasn’t a perfect angel like you always said? She did her own thing? She went off and had an affair with some Takeshi person?”

  Marie grimaced. “Where did you get such utter nonsense?”

  “Ryu is their son. And that makes him my half-brother—”

  “Goodness, no. That disgusting man married Jessica… and he is their son.” Marie shook her head, noting the confusion in Catherine’s face. “Your mother was a good girl until she got tied up with that Jessica. And then she had to go off and marry some strange man in some strange country—”

  “I don’t understand. Who’s Jessica? Why did they go to Japan?”

  Marie rested a hand at her temples. A headache was starting.

  “Jessica Diabas. The girl Grace became roommates with at boarding school. Somehow after graduation they ended up—I don’t know—going to Japan to teach English or study or fool around—who even knows what the bloody truth is. And then Grace met your father. Your father apparently liked to mingle with criminals. Might as well have been one himself.”

  “Why were they murdered?”

  Marie felt her aggravation rise. That and the intensity of her headache.

  “Why? Because that Debiru fellow was into gangs, and that’s what gangs do, Catherine. And you’re darned right about one thing. The
boy you brought to the house is the infant in the photo. Right away I suspected it. He’s like his mother and father. The same look in his eyes. All of them have it. Untrustworthy, awful…”

  “After lying all these years—after keeping this secret—what gives you the right to say that?”

  Marie glowered. The audacity of the child!

  “I’d think after being a lawyer for well over three decades—”

  “That’s right. Mum said you could help them? So why didn’t you?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake—the man had a criminal record. Jessica on the other hand was a Brazilian national, hardly a Canadian citizen herself—how was I supposed to bring them to Canada? The most logical thing would have been to just get the annulment like I suggested and come home without them.”

  “But you didn’t even try! You ignored her letters because she refused to go alone. You just wanted to control everything and everyone like you always do! Like you try to control me!”

  “You ungrateful child! Do you know what I sacrificed? What I went through to raise you? You came here at four-years-old without a dime to your name—a mess scared of her own shadow. You cried every night. You couldn’t even speak. Do you know how much therapy I had to put you through just to make you function like a human being?”

  Marie pressed her lips together. The girl hadn't a single clue, but she carried on with her rude manner, shaking her head, defiant.

  “I didn’t realise I was such a burden for you. Am I the reason you drink too? You never asked what it was like for me… and everything that happened—it’s your fault!”

  “You’re right! It's my fault. It's entirely my fault that my daughter is dead! Well, they were murdered, and the police blamed them for their own deaths.” Marie threw up her hands. “There's your answer. Alright? Blame me, then—blame me for everything! For not knowing about your father, for growing up parentless—it's my bloody fault!”

  Marie couldn’t handle it. Head pounding away and seething through clenched teeth, she glared down at the deviant child who dared to question her judgment. Her iron fist. Yes. This was the real Marie Smith. A woman who had been a terrible mother. A woman who had committed the crime of wanting to be ambitious and successful. A woman who had put the firm ahead of Grace, especially after Grace's father died. She hadn't asked nearly enough questions when Grace had run off to Japan. Maybe Marie had been big-headed to expect her own daughter to do as she said after so many years of indifference. True. But it had happened. It happened. And Catherine was a second chance. Marie wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Church! The church and the Academy and this gated community were supposed to change everything, but, history had a peculiar way of repeating itself. Catherine was a spoiled child. Just like Grace. So Catherine couldn't see it. She wouldn't see it.

  The girl whirled around and stormed off, retrieving her coat and scarf from the closet.

  Marie swayed after her. “Catherine! Where do you think you’re going? Come back here at once!” Marie winced at the throbbing in her head. Eyes closed, the only thing she heard was the thump of a door crashing shut.

  Ryu rushed for the door, but found himself stumbling back as it flung open, near hitting him. He scowled. Tyler had returned. What timing. Ryu waited for Tyler to side-step out of the way, but Tyler wouldn’t budge, blocking the way like a club bouncer.

  Ryu was seething. He had zero patience for this. “Move,” he growled.

  Tyler did no such thing. He didn’t even glare back, but he looked thoughtful as his lips broke into a smile that was weird and creepy, even for him. Groaning, Ryu ploughed past Tyler as a wrecking ball would through concrete, forcing him to stumble and rub at his shoulder. Steps away from the head of the staircase, hands snatched at Ryu’s arm and hauled him back. Ryu roared, glaring daggers… at Albert.

  Pre-emptively, Albert waved his hands. “Shh! Listen! It’s important!”

  Ryu forgot his anger as he registered an odd, deeply shaken look on Albert’s face. The brown of his eyes was glassy, the whites of them red. His skin was flushed like he’d witnessed something awful. Ryu narrowed his eyes and followed Albert into the room he bunked in with Clyde. He quietly shut the door. Ryu watched and waited as Albert shifted on the balls of his feet, hemming and hawing, looking uncertain how or where to start. He ringed his fingers, and Ryu threw back his head.

  “Albert. If you got something to say, just say it.”

  Albert wiped at his face and then his voice came out uneven and husky. “The girls. They drug ‘em…”

  Ryu gave a blank stare. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know that?”

  “Some of those girls look like me, don’t they?” Albert muttered, his brows upturned. “Katsuo, the Syndicate… they don’t care about us at all.”

  Ryu regarded him keenly, finally getting his point. It was true. The girls that worked for the Syndicate came from all backgrounds, all walks of life. Some were college girls looking for a quick buck. Some were trafficked immigrants with "debts" to repay. But too many were Indigenous. Some Squamish. Some Cree. They looked like Albert. And they were girls who’d been suckered. Some by choice, some out of desperation. What Albert didn’t realise, but should have by now, was that working on Main Street came with a price, and oftentimes that price was addiction and the loss of freedom. But for the Syndicate, it meant a steady cash flow.

  “I tried to tell you,” Ryu sighed.

  “What if they never had a choice, though? Like maybe they’re forced into it?” Albert paused, his voice shakier as he whispered, “Dev, your girl, they wanna…”

  Ryu felt his heart skip a beat. Haruna? Why was he mentioning her all of a sudden?

  “They want… they want to what?” Ryu pressed.

  “They didn’t know I was there, but I heard them say it…”

  “Say what? Just spill already!”

  “They not going to kill her. They're gonna make her disappear. Said something about sending her away… making her work…”

  It was more than Ryu was willing to hear, beyond what he knew he could stomach. The sour tang of acid was hot on his tongue, and a desire to finish what he set out to do returned in spades. He wheeled around, patting his sides. He was well prepared.

  “Dev! Dev—what are you going to do?”

  Ryu wasn't stopping for anyone. He’d already soared down the staircase. Save for Albert and Tyler, none of the other boys were home. Ryu was thankful for that. He figured he was about to do something he’d regret, and he certainly didn’t need witnesses to the fact. He blazed through the main hall and there was Katsuo—passing through the main entryway and removing his leather coat and shoes. He had just returned from wherever he’d been. Just in time.

  Ryu froze, and so did he.

  Katsuo’s eyes thinned, curiosity clear in them though his face was taut and stern as usual. He looked like he expected something, perhaps for Ryu to greet him, show deference—but Ryu refused. He found all the resolve he had, doing away with custom to attack with a steady glare.

  “Aniki. The hit on Mitsukai Haruna. Why was it ordered?” With certain shrewdness, Ryu’s hand hovered over his left side, set to reach into it at a moment’s notice.

  Katsuo smirked. A chill danced along Ryu’s back.

  “What’s this? You wouldn’t dare kill me, would you? I’m your elder. It would be dishonourable.”

  “If I have to, I will,” Ryu said, masking his unease but not sounding convincing enough, he was sure.

  Katsuo tilted his head, and his smile was accompanied by a low chuckle as though he’d somehow expected the response. “I see. Disrespectful too…”

  The words tumbled out of Ryu’s mouth before he could think to hold them back:

  “Respect and honour belong to those who’ve earned it. You said the hit was off—she wouldn't be hurt.” Ryu lifted the chain at his neck, brandishing the pendant. “You tried to take this back then. Why? You know about my past. You know about Haruna's, and
you told Father about us. So explain it. Explain everything.”

  The smile on Katsuo’s face vanished.

  “Fool. I didn’t tell Father a single word about your little friend. Like I said, this isn’t about you. But you want me to explain everything? Very well. I take no responsibility for the harm it causes.”

  Ryu scoffed. “Try me.”

  Haruna shuddered. A pitiless wind at her back. She sniffled, fighting a runny nose and the wet frost above her lip. As unpleasant as it was, it was not as painful as her tearing eyes had been earlier. She felt her breaths grow shallow from the air’s dryness, yet she marched on. She'd finally done it. She had walked out on her grandmother. But she didn’t know where to go. Her closest, nearest friend, Gabrielle, was already long-gone for the holidays. Angelique and Tracy were much too far north of the city, and she wasn’t prepared to bother them so late in the day, during this holiday season and on such short notice. Besides, how would she get there? She’d have to call a cab but, naturally, she’d left her wallet behind.

  There was no option left but to walk. Just walk. Haruna couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t for a second more stand to see the face of that horrible, deceitful woman. Something inexplicable arose inside Haruna at hearing Marie invoke the past. She tried to think back to a childhood she couldn't remember. She was shy when she first came to Canada… but maybe it hadn’t been shyness. Haruna had been to counselling, but she wasn’t sure what it had been for. Adjusting to a new city, new country and climate seemed like logical reasons, but had it been for something else? It still wasn’t clear why her parents were murdered. And how… where did Ryu and his parents fit into all of it? Haruna reached into her pocket for her phone. Multiple calls missed. She dialled. He failed to answer. It was an exasperating game of phone tag.