Tsukimono (Obsession)

Forward:

This story takes place in modern Japan. As such, I tried to stick to the Japanese way of using names first and foremost. Last names come before first names (Kiichirou's surname is Oya) and I'm adding honorifics in spoken and thought language. However, I will not be using any other Japanese language (except where obvious/necessary, such as "karaoke" or other words) because this work of fiction is in English.

----

Chapter 1:

He looked down at the trembling figure below him. Tear-streaked eyes led down to a gagged mouth, hair plastered over a petite forehead and down onto a long neck. That neck, how ugly it was, leading into small, fragile shoulders with quivering breasts moving up and down in erratic motion as their owner hitched her breath. Once, twice...

He moved one of his hands from the ground onto one of the lumps, squeezing harshly. The woman tried to squirm away, tried to fight his defiling of her exposed body, but to no avail. As he squeezed her chest harder, she let a muffled scream escape through the gag.

He just didn't understand! Women were so repulsive! They would meet him, sweet smiles on their faces, tell him that they were hopelessly romantic: people in love with love. Women were cowardly, conniving, and manipulative. Tsukamu didn't believe in love. Love was supposed to make life worth living, make any suffering negligible, and help people through tough times. All he had seen “love” do was rip families and lives apart.

There was only one thing certain in life, and that was power solved problems, and money bought power. He hated the very idea of love, and because women so openly supported and idealized it, he hated women as well.

Another outburst from the woman brought his attention back. This pitiful creature, telling him she liked him, sending him love letters... He was punishing her for her stupid idealism.

After all, hadn't he been punished enough for the sake of love?

--

Kiichirou was studying his new bleach job in the mirror: he guessed it really wasn't terrible-looking now that his hair had made the transition from a dark brown to blonde. It was unusual for Japanese to have such bright blonde hair-- he was lucky his mom had such a good connection with a talented stylist. He also was lucky that his high school allowed such a radically different hair color, but then again, they said as long as you could find the hair color naturally, they would allow it.

Good thing his stage of wanting bright blue hair had passed.

A loud ringing sound alerted him that he was due to his next class. He quickly exited the restroom and jogged through the now-empty hallway to a nearby classroom, quietly opening the door and slipping in.

“Oya-kun, please try to be punctual about your attendance.” A bored voice spoke from the front of the classroom. Kiichirou nodded and sat in his seat, opening his textbook to a page number written on the white board, and started reading the passage.

The boy sitting next to Kiichirou leaned over the aisle and set his elbow on Kiichirou's desk, whispering in an excited manner, “Oya, did you hear in the news? Another girl has been attacked! Worst of all, they can't figure out who did it! Do you think it's a serial killer?” He turned to face Kiichirou, big eyes staring at him inquisitively.

Kiichirou smirked, musing aloud, “They'd have to be dead for him to be a serial killer, Saitou.” Saitou huffed at his reply and crossed his arms, looking toward the front of the room. He didn't much appreciate the kid's sense of humor.

Honestly, though, Kii didn't think it was much of a laughing matter. The area he lived in wasn't exactly the countryside, so it would be generally hard to depict if it were a single person committing the crimes. Then again, they were all so similar: women were discovered tied up and gagged, in alleyways or public buildings, all claiming to have been raped while on a date. Of course, normally, there wouldn't be much to tie all the cases together. However, all the women described their assailant as a normal, albeit sweet high school boy, very normal-looking, who seemed to strike out at them in a personal rage.

Normal-looking, normal circumstances happening in the beginning of the date... Nothing extraordinary about the appearance of the boy, except he was unextraordinary. “What was his name?” the cops had asked the victims. Many had replied with he hadn't said or they didn't know, but the name the rest uttered was “Takahashi.”

Takahashi.

Kii grimaced. Takahashi was one of the most common surnames in Japan. He could guess that in his high school alone there were at least twenty Takahashis out of the 2,100 students.

Of course, this case was the hype of all the newspapers and media and on many people's tongues. The mysterious high school student who had something personal against every pretty, young woman. Some people joked to their daughters to be careful at parties or the Takahashi ghost would attack them.

All though many people believed much of the hype was just publicity for the girls and that this mysterious rapist didn't actually exist, nobody could ignore the hard facts. Several girls had been tortured, raped, and nobody had a damned lead anywhere.

'Ahh, this isn't a time to be thinking about this,' Kiichirou thought to himself. He had enough on his plate trying to study for the various curriculum he had enrolled himself in this year. He figured that advanced classes would help his resume shine through with his stunning grades, athletics, and community service. And what college wouldn't want to accept him then?

--

After the bell rang to signal the end of the final class of the day, Kiichirou quickly left the classroom to make his way to the building's entrance. He used these precious minutes to catch up with his friends he didn't see during class before they went off to cram school and he to his after-school sports club.

“Hey! Saitou! Satou-chan, Matsumoto-kun!” Kii jogged over to where his friends had already gathered and were chatting. Saitou, his childhood friend and homeroom neighbor grinned as he saw the blonde approach.

“Oya, check this out! Satou-chan got another love confession! She's way too popular for her own good!” Saitou grinned, patting the shorter girl on the shoulders. Indeed, Satou Hanako was a strikingly pretty girl. Her long, auburn hair was soft-looking and impeccably styled into loose curls and small ribbons. The petite girl grinned and elbowed Satou in the ribcage.

“I don't know why those idiots are always falling all over me. My boyish good looks must really mask my rotten personality!” The group laughed in unison-- really, Satou's personality didn't match her small, innocent demeanor at all. She had a strange sense of humor and was really quite a tomboy, much more interested in computers than going on dates with a boyfriend.

Matsumoto smiled shyly-- he also had a large crush on Satou, but it was also in part because he knew her personality and enjoyed her company. Of course, with his thick-rimmed glasses and textbooks weighing more than most dumbbells, the introvert would rather watch unfortunate jock after unfortunate jock try to woo his way into Satou's heart than confess to her himself.

“Anyway,” Kiichirou interjected, “I'd love to make fun of more unfortunates with you guys, but I'd really better get to the club. I'll see you later!” After receiving goodbyes in unison from his friends, he made his way to his locker and relieved himself of his textbooks and school supplies and made his way out of the locker room and back into the main hallway.

Kiichirou listened to the thudding of his footsteps as he walked through the empty hallways. During this time in their school career, most students felt it more important to take cram school than spend their time on after school activities. In fact, he suspected that less than ten percent of the school's population was involved in after school clubs. Not that it bothered him. He was bound to enjoy his after school sports club whether or not people were pushing him to cram because that was his personality.

Thud, thud, thud... The floors really did sound different when there was only one pair of feet on them instead of hundreds at a time. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. Kiichirou looked up.

A boy with tidy hair and a tidy-looking uniform was at the far end of the hall, walking toward Kiichirou. His pace was quick, yet calm, and he stared ahead without catching the blonde's eyes. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other holding steady a book bag which was strapped around his shoulder. Kiichirou noticed that his uniform was marked as a Sophomore's.

'What a plain-looking person,' Kii thought to himself as the boy walked right past him, not moving his forward gaze at all. 'No, not plain-looking.... He looks more... normal.' Kii slowed his pace and turned around to watch the smaller boy walk. There was nothing spectacular about the boy except for how unspectacular he was.

--

Club activities were reported as being good for that week. There was a high attendance for activities, even some of the kids who went to cram school religiously were going to take a day or two off a week to participate in some of the events.

'I wonder who he was.'

“Oya-san, since you're an upperclassman and our club president is currently sick, would you mind spending some extra time helping us plan our activities for the fall heritage festival?”

“Certainly. We're trying to promote team sports that have had a big impact in Japan in the past, correct?”

'He certainly had cold eyes. I guess I saw but didn't really notice right away.'

“Yes, that and we're trying to get people to look back on those sports in this electronically-obsessed society.”

“So, Baseball will be the main sport we'll use for the festival, then.”

“Baseball? That sounds great. Ishikawa-kun, your uncle coaches Baseball, doesn't he?”

'He didn't pay any attention to me, though. It's as if he didn't even notice me...'

Kiichirou suddenly realized that the conversation about planning for the fall festival had quickly escalated into Baseball fan boy chatter. He had been spacing off while the club talked about their favorite pro players, famous American players, memorable matches, and on. Had he really been so focused on that boy that he spaced off that bad?

“Ishikawa-kun,” Kii spoke, looking at the short yet vibrant Junior, “let's piece together some ideas for the festival for next week's meeting. We could host a small Baseball tournament or something with prizes. I don't know, we can brainstorm ideas.

I didn't realize the time had passed so quickly. I need to catch the next train, so I'll excuse myself. Thanks for your hard work.”

The blonde bowed his head to his classmates as he left the classroom and made his way back through the long hallway to the locker room. As he walked, he kept on seeing images of that boy play through his mind.

'Why do I keep on thinking of him? He's just somebody who I passed by in an empty hallway. It just felt weird because it was empty except for the two of us.' However, in the back of his mind, he realized that the boy reminded him of something else... Something...

“Satou-chan!” As he reached the aisle with his locker, he was surprised to find his friend Satou there. She was holding a yellow envelope, looking like she was about to slip it into a locker.

“Ahh, Oya-kun! I thought you would still be in your club activities right now! I'm surprised to see you!” Satou exclaimed, smiling and running a finger over one of the ribbons tied in her hair.

“Oh, I see. My mom asked me to come home early so I could help prepare dinner tonight. What about you? What are you doing here? I thought you had cram school.”

Satou moved her hand over to her book bag where she tucked the yellow envelope into. “I just... forgot something in my locker was all. Well, I should let you get going!”

Kiichirou smirked. He hadn't seen his snide friend act that flustered in a while. She was definitely up to something fishy. Of course, trying to find something from her locker in the boys' locker section was also a huge tip-off.

He quickly gathered his belongings and made his way through to the train station, the late summer breeze flushing his cheeks.

--

Around three quarters of an hour later, Kiichirou finally showed up at his front gate.

'Damnit, during the whole train ride, I kept on thinking about that boy.'

He unlocked the gate and made his way to the front door, silently frustrated at his repetitive thought process.

“Kiichirou! I'm so glad you could make it home at this time! You know, your father has been so swamped at work... Thank you for lending an extra hand here and there!” Kiichirou's mother, a robust woman in her early 40's with a kind look in her eyes hugged her son and welcomed him home. He could hear the sound of his two younger siblings chattering in the kitchen.

“It's no problem, mother, really.” He smiled, following her into a homely kitchen.

“Kiichi!” His younger sister Ueko chanted, smiling at her older brother. She was 9 years old, a blooming horse artist with jet black hair that long, stringy, and always tied up in two large pigtails.

“Rou!” That was his youngest sister, Mayu. She was the spitting image of Ueko, only difference that her two front teeth were missing, and she was a few inches shorter and two years younger.

“And how are you two lovely ladies tonight?” The teenager smiled. He adored his younger sisters and they in turn adored their older brother.

“Mommy says you're going to help us make onigiri!”

“She says you make good onigiri!”

Kiichirou smiled. He wasn't better at making the rice balls than any other high schooler, but in the minds of his young sisters, his work must seem very refined. “Of course, I've been making onigiri for the gods since I was young so that they'll continue to protect us! If it wasn't good, we'd all be fried by now! You should thank me for saving our family!” He smiled, telling an outrageous story to his sisters about his cooking skills.

“That's nonsense!” Their mother piped in, “Gods don't eat onigiri! They eat young children who misbehave!” Mayu and Ueko burst into giggling with their mother, but another thought invaded Kiichirou's mind.

'Damnit, leave me alone. I'm trying to enjoy myself with my family. Get out of my head, Takahashi!'

--

Tsukamu watched as the blazing sun sunk into the horizon, the bright clouds haloing around its disappearing form. Any time now, she would walk over to his bench, finished with her day job. Then, they would talk.

“Oh, honey, isn't the setting sun pretty this evening?” A lusty voice reached his ears and he leaned back into the bench, casually turning his head to the woman who was standing behind him.

“Not you too, Reina.” He scoffed, peering at her face, transfixed on the sunset. “You sound like a lovesick child.”

The woman walked around the bench and sat next to the boy. She set her hand on his knee and leaned against him. “You need to learn to enjoy the small things in life, Tsu.” She pouted, looking at him with big eyes.

“I am here to enjoy the small things in life. How much tonight?” Reina huffed, looking away from the boy. He was all business and no foreplay, that one! Not that it mattered to her, anyway. She offered her services for money, and he was willing to pay.

“Tonight I'm in a good mood. And because I like you, I'll give you a discount, Tsu.” Tsukamu looked at the horizon, speckled with dark clouds. Reina was one of the few women he felt he could understand because she was simple. He paid her money, she screwed him. He didn't do it for the sick pleasure of being in control of a prostitute, it was more of a release for him. A much-needed release.

“Let's go back to your place.” He said, standing suddenly up and catching Reina off-guard. He started walking on the sidewalk at a quick pace, not waiting for the woman to catch up to him.

“Hey! Wait up!” Reina called to him, trying to close the distance between them, her red minidress not wanting to cooperate. “Can we at least hold hands or something? You're so cold, Tsu-chan!”