Tales of Crow- The Complete series Box Set

by Chris Ward

  Before Jun could say anything, Akane marched up to the door and shoved it open. The weak latch, secured from the inside, popped off the door with a sharp crack.

  Kaede and someone else screamed, and Jun heard the thud of bare feet landing on a wooden floor.

  A moment later Akane came back out, pulling her little pink suitcase along behind her. She closed the door, raised an eyebrow at Jun, and said, ‘Let’s go. I think they’re done being disturbed for today. Wow, you should have seen them jump.’

  They went outside and waded across the snow-covered street towards Jun’s dormitory, Jun holding Akane’s case in his arms.

  ‘Who was it?’ he asked, when they were inside.

  ‘The drummer from that band,’ she said. ‘They were proper going at it, but when they saw me you’d think they’d seen a ghost. Kaede literally pissed herself. It was disgusting.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I probably should have knocked.’ She smiled. ‘He had a good body but his dick was kind of small.’

  ‘I really didn’t need to know that.’

  Her smiled vanished. ‘You screwed her, didn’t you?’

  Jun sighed. There was no point pretending. He’d never been an item with Akane anyway, but for some reason he felt like an asshole. ‘Yeah, he said. ‘She’s not exactly a girl for waiting.’

  Akane nodded as if she’d just found out her mother had died all over again. ‘She was cheating on you, you know. People talk. She was pretty much passed around the judo changing rooms. Ogiwara is the only one I know of who’s never been there, and that’s only because I kept tabs on him.’

  Jun knocked on his door but no one answered. He pushed the door open and found both beds still made. There was no sign of Ogiwara.

  ‘If it’s confession time, can I ask?’ he said, sitting down on the bed. ‘I’ve confessed to you.’

  ‘Why do you want to know? It’s not like we’ve ever been a couple.’

  He shrugged. ‘I guess I just do. I hate that chump. I want to hear that you’ve never screwed him.’

  ‘So it’s okay for you to bang Kaede but I’m supposed to be some virginal maiden in a white dress, is that it?’

  Jun smiled. ‘Something like that.’

  She sat down beside him and rested a hand on his knee. ‘Well, since we’re confessing, yeah. I did. Twice.’ She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘If it makes you feel better, he was crap. He has a ridiculously small dick and he has no idea how to use even that. You’d think something so small would have a pretty short instruction manual, but he clearly hadn’t read it.’

  Jun grinned. ‘That does make me feel better.’

  Akane sighed. ‘I don’t know what stories you’ve heard, Jun, but he wasn’t the only one. Much as you might like it, I’m no angel. I might not have the body count of someone like Kaede, but I’m not the bastion of purity and innocence you might want.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘Escape,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘Everything I do reminds me of what happened. Everything. Every spare minute when my mind isn’t occupied brings those memories back. And the memories live on in everything I used to love. Piano … you.’

  Jun turned towards her. Akane’s eyes were filled with tears and she looked a mess. Her hair was sticking up in clumps and her make-up was blotching from not being removed the night before.

  ‘You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known,’ he blurted suddenly, the words feeling lumpy on his tongue. ‘I’ve never loved anyone else but you.’

  ‘Jun…’

  Before he could chicken out, he reached across and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. As he searched for her lips she tried to duck away, and instead they bumped heads. Jun fell back on the bed, his hands over his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Beyond the darkness of his eyes he heard Akane sobbing.

  ‘Jun.’

  He didn’t open his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just freaked out.’

  ‘Jun!’

  He opened his eyes, and there was Akane’s face, right above him, her eyes so close he could see the way lumps of eyeliner had clumped up in her lashes. Her eyes were watering, but whether it was from their clash of heads or tears—or both—he didn’t know.

  She leaned down and kissed him.

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. They rolled over on the bed, Jun’s hands searching for her body, pulling off her clothes and tossing them onto the floor. Akane’s fingers clamped over the back of his head, digging into his scalp, her legs reaching around him. Kaede hadn’t been his first, and as the singer in a rock band he’d never found it hard to attract good-looking girls, but he had never wanted anyone like he wanted Akane right now. Life’s harsh realities had taught him that expecting happy endings was a direct route to heartache and suffering, but if there was a one in his life then it was the girl in his arms. He kissed her with an intensity he’d never kissed anyone before, and he let his body release all of its desperate passion on her.

  An hour later, exhausted, they lay beside each other on Jun’s bed, facing the ceiling. Jun had one arm around Akane’s neck, and she had one hand resting on his stomach. They hadn’t spoken since they had first kissed. Jun was terrified of spoiling the moment and bringing them both bumping back to reality. He couldn’t guess what Akane might be thinking. Less than twelve hours ago he had been her most hated person on earth.

  ‘Perhaps we could get jobs up here,’ she said suddenly. ‘I could work in the kitchens and you could … I don’t know, dig snow and rake leaves?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He smiled. ‘Well, it does look like they’re pretty understaffed.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back,’ she said. ‘I like it here. It’s a bit cold and a bit creepy … but it’s kind of nice.’ She turned to look at him. ‘Peaceful.’

  ‘I was thinking the same thing. If we go back—’

  He didn’t get a chance to finish. A crackling sound came from out in the corridor, causing both of them to jump up. Jun wrapped his arms around Akane and they backed away, terrified of what was about to happen, only for a little cough to introduce a speech through an old, tinny public address system.

  ‘Good morning, dear guests … this is Rutherford Forbes, owner of British Heights. You may be aware that we seem to have suffered from a few minor problems in the last twenty-four hours, but rest assured that your stay will be back on track as soon as is humanly possible. In the meantime, I would like to ask all guests to please assemble in the dining hall at approximately eleven thirty. There you will be given a full explanation—as far as we know it—on everything that has happened and what will happen next. I look forward to seeing you then.’

  The public address system clicked off. Jun looked at Akane. ‘Sounds ominous,’ he said.

  Akane raised an eyebrow. ‘Eleven thirty, it said?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She smiled and reached out a hand. ‘It’s only just gone nine. What are we going to do until then, Jun?’

  24

  Trouble for Forbes

  She ignored Banba-sensei’s calls for as long as she could, but after four days she gave in. She didn’t need him to tell her what she already knew—her contract had been cancelled. In the wake of O-Remo’s drug bust and her subsequently jilting him at the altar, her solo album had bombed. No longer the starlet former lead singer with Girls Chorus, she was the washed up former lover of a drug-addled failed rock star.

  Her career was in freefall, but Banba-sensei said he had one last case to make to her.

  She met him in a late-night restaurant in Shinjuku. He was late; she was already a little drunk when he arrived, sitting at a corner table in the dim room with a candle flickering in front of her, picking at some pickles and soy beans.

  ‘What I have for you is work that will be distributed outside of Japan,’ he told her, almost before he had made himself comfortable. ‘It’s all I can do for you, I’m afraid. There’s no contract, but there’s plenty o
f work available and the money is excellent, comparable to what you were earning before. You’re still young, Karin.’

  She mulled over his words as he ordered food, and then rather presumptively a bottle of champagne. ‘I need you to know that I’m doing this as a favour,’ he continued, popping the champagne and pouring it into two glasses. I could just as easily set you adrift, watch you waste your life in hostess bars or on crappy cable TV shows paying convenience store wages. You’re not going to like this, but at the end of the day it’s just work. And it’s lucrative.’

  When he told her she scoffed, threw her champagne over him, and stormed out, but his words lingered on: It’s just work.

  After two more days of ignoring his calls, she opened an email and glanced over the figures he was quoting. Five thousand US dollars for a day’s work, under an assumed name, and in productions which Banba-sensei assured her would only be distributed outside of Japan. He even insisted on writing that into each contract that she signed.

  The first time was in a seedy love hotel in Shibuya with two big, muscular American guys who were clearly old hands in the trade. For two hours she was passed back and forth like a piece of candy while three men operated one still camera, one handheld camera, and a boom. While one of the male actors was working on her she could closer her eyes and imagine it was just regular sex, but then one of the cameramen would shout ‘cut!’, tell her to change position, and the whole thing would start over again. It was seedy, emotionless, and degrading, but she was five thousand dollars richer at the end of the day, and her involvement was over as soon as they considered she’d been screwed senseless enough times to get a decent take.

  She went home and cried herself to sleep.

  Two weeks later, she called up Banba-sensei and arranged for another contract.

  It wasn’t hard to get good at it. Her looks had got her into Girls Chorus in the first place, and the years of dance training had kept her body tight. The worst thing she had to swallow was her pride.

  She quickly became in demand for the “foreigner on Japanese” market in the US and Europe, and turned down five contracts for every one she accepted. Her fees quickly doubled, and soon, with just a couple of days of work a week she was earning as much as she ever had in Girls Chorus. Yet something was eating away at her, and it wasn’t just the endless succession of increasingly faceless men with whom she had to get intimate on camera.

  Each time she took off her clothes and did whatever she was told to do, a little piece of her soul was stripped away. She found herself increasingly angry, lashing out at people for no reason, and one day she woke up and looked into the mirror and hated what was staring back at her. The bright-eyed innocent young girl who’d dreamed of being adored by thousands of people had become a hard-eyed woman closing in on her thirties, a glorified prostitute staring down a barrel at a bleak and unwelcoming future, waiting for someone to pull the trigger.

  Out of the blue, her high school sweetheart, Hiro, called her up and invited her out to dinner. She’d been at her lowest ebb for weeks, barely getting up long enough to switch on her apartment’s lights unless she had to go out and work. She lay around in bed, watching TV, pretending she couldn’t remember the scent of a hundred grunting men all over her body.

  The phone buzzed on the bedside table and she snatched it up, expecting Banba-sensei or some other contractor looking for her to take another job, but the number was unrecognised. Only her mother had it, so she clicked ANSWER and said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, Karin, it’s me. Hiro.’

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Hiro?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m sorry to call you up like this. Your mother gave me your number.’

  ‘Oh … um, how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Listen, next week I’m going to be in Tokyo for a couple of days on a work training thing. I was just wondering if you’d be interested in meeting for lunch? It would be great to catch up.’

  The clouds seemed to part before her, revealing a clear blue sky where before there had been only grey. She smiled, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in months.

  ‘Sure, that would be great.’

  Hiro suggested a place not far from Kichijoji. It was a nice neighbourhood, one that always calmed her. It was a good suggestion. She agreed and hung up.

  When the day came around it was an effort to find something decent to wear. Her wardrobe was a mixture of odd dresses from her years on stage and dress-down stuff, jeans and t-shirts. In the end she managed to find a relatively subtle frock that she had once worn to an awards ceremony. She wore black jeans underneath and a t-shirt over it. As she twirled in the mirror she thought she looked pretty good, almost like in the old days.

  It was a cool spring morning when she got off the JR line at Kichijoji and strolled up past the quaint art galleries and cafes towards the restaurant where they had arranged to meet. Much as she knew it was folly, she still remembered the fondness she had felt for Hiro, and although a thousand lives now separated them she wondered if she might feel a little of the old attraction. Would he have changed? Would he still be the strong young lad with whom she had shared her first kiss, or would he have bulked out and lost all his hair?

  Her heart was making little butterflies in her chest as she entered the restaurant, a pretty little Italian with trestles in the windows and framed pictures of European spices on the walls.

  She recognised Hiro instantly. He was sitting at a table near the back wall. He had barely changed. His hair was still cropped short, almost to his scalp, and his jawline was still firm. Beneath the suit he wore, his body looked strong and lean.

  ‘Hello, Hiro,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  ‘Karin.’ He gave her a smile. ‘You look so lovely. Would you like a drink?’

  He ordered a beer for himself and an orange juice for her. As the waitress left, Karin shifted in her seat, feeling awkward. ‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ she said.

  ‘It’s strange how things turn out,’ he said, as the waitress returned with their orders and set them down on the table. ‘I followed your career. I have all your Girls Chorus CDs and your solo one. I was so proud. I brought something for you.’

  ‘As Hiro leaned down to take something out of his bag, Karin frowned. Something had been wrong with his words—

  Was…

  Hiro tossed a DVD case onto the table top. Karin stared down in horror at a picture of herself, sitting with her legs open, her modesty protected only by a towel, while a muscular Western man sat behind her, his hands cupping her breasts. She was pouting at the camera as he licked at her neck.

  ‘Thanks for making me a laughing stock. The boys in the office loved this one.’

  Karin barely noticed the beer as Hiro stood up and threw it over her. Even as the sticky liquid got into her eyes, her vision was fixed on the DVD box, the title written in Japanese katakana.

  Banba-sensei had promised her no one would know. It appeared he had broken his promise.

  As Hiro’s heavy footsteps marched out of the restaurant, Karin began to cry.

  Jun wouldn’t let Akane’s hand out of his as they made their way to the dining hall for the meeting called by Rutherford Forbes. He wasn’t sure how many people would show up, but it was a surprise to see just the owner himself, Mika from reception, an old woman he assumed was the cook, a young man he had seen opening up the gift shop, two members of Plastic Black Butterfly, and Kaede standing beside them. She stuck her tongue out at him, then rolled it across her lips, a gesture which he couldn’t be sure meant whether she was happy to see him or not. He chose to stare at the huge Christmas tree set up beside the entrance, as if perhaps believing in Santa Claus might solve all their problems.

  There was no sign of Ogiwara or Mishima, nor of Bee or O-Remo. While Jun could imagine that his classmates were up to no good, he couldn’t start to guess what had happened to the other two members of the band.

  Forbes, too, seemed a little put out by the po
or turnout as he climbed onto a low stage at one end of the dining hall and gave a little cough into a microphone. He surveyed the nearly nonexistent crowd with a dissatisfied frown, like an unpopular comedian surveying a ragtag audience.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said in clear, well practiced Japanese. ‘I guess that your companions are all enjoying the wonderful facilities we have here at British Heights, as well they might in such circumstances. Please feel free to pass on to them what I am about to say.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid its not particularly good news, but there is no need to panic. Unfortunately, due to last night’s unexpectedly heavy snowfall, there has been a landslide just to the south of here. Part of the access road to British Heights has been destroyed, so for the time being there’s no road route back down into the valley.’

  ‘What about our friends?’ Jun called out.

  Forbes sighed. ‘We’ve had no word from them, I’m afraid. All our telephones are down and our Internet signal is being blocked, we believe, by approaching weather systems. Rest assured, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. I’m sure they’re all fine.’

  Kaede started to sob into Dai’s shoulder. Ken just sighed. Akane stared at Forbes and Jun bit his tongue against a stream of curse words that threatened to spill out.

  ‘The good news is that from today onwards, for as long as you’re all stuck here, there will be no charge for your room or board. All facilities will also be free. However, some of them may not be operated due to staff shortages. We do understand, however, that we can’t just expect you to sit around.’

  Both members of the band rolled their eyes. Beside Jun, Akane smirked. ‘You’d hope so,’ she muttered.

  ‘I do have a favour to ask, though,’ Forbes continued. ‘We are hoping that by this afternoon a rescue helicopter will be dispatched to begin airlifting you all down to the local town. We can’t expect you to stay up here, although we are well provisioned. However, we need somewhere for the helicopter to land, so we’d like you all to lend a hand in clearing the snow from the courtyard outside the Grand Mansion to create a makeshift landing pad.’