Car Call

Part of Ryoma didn’t want to leave Tokyo, but he knew he had to.

There was no place for the boy to stay in the big city. At least, not a place that would let him be close to family.

Ryoma stared out the window of his aunt’s packed car as restaurants and buildings he went to as a child passed by.

Meanwhile, sitting next to him, his aunt, Satsuki, clenched her teeth and slammed on the horn, honking and yelling at the car in front of them.

A car cut them off, and the guy who did it was flipping them off.

Ryoma’s aunt gritted her teeth but relieved her anger with a seething breath.

“If there’s anything I hate about Tokyo, it’s the negative energy that surrounds this place.”

Ryoma glanced at his aunt.

“What do you mean by negative energy?” he asked politely.

“I’m talking in the literal sense. See, boy, there’s a lot of people who try to make it big in the city. They want to get a good job, have a nice place to live, and… get married.”

Satsuki shuddered at those last two words.

“Oh, ew,” she spat. How terrifying.

“What’s so wrong with getting married?” the boy laughed.

Aunt Satsuki shot her most disgusting glare at him.

“Don’t start that talk with me now, boy. You know firsthand just why I’m so wary of marriage.”

Ryoma knew what she meant by that. She was talking about his parent’s marriage.

It was messy, to say the least.

But that was a long time ago.

Ryoma hadn’t heard from his mother since he started middle school.

And so, the boy pressed his back against the seat.

“Yeah, I understand. I don’t think I can ever see myself getting married.”

“That makes two of us,” Satsuki scoffed. “But anyway, what I’m trying to say about all this negative energy stuff is that people come to the city with their hopes and dreams. But ‌not everyone achieves it. So the sadness of that reality lingers in the area, which sucks because it’s not only bad for your spiritual energy, but for your skin as well.”

Satsuki dabbed at her perfectly smooth cheeks. Breaking out was the last thing Ryoma would ever expect his aunt to worry about. He never saw his aunt with a pimple in his life.

To him, with how well-groomed and dressed she was, he saw her as a sort of diva, but there was more to it than just that.

She was an icon, whose appearance and personality made it clear that a woman could never peak in her twenties.

And she was a good role model for Ryoma. At least, when she wasn’t angry.

Staring out the window once more, the two drove forward when Aunt Satsuki suddenly slammed on the brakes.

“What’s the big idea?!” she screamed, slamming on the horn repeatedly. “You were practically speeding the whole way here, and yet the moment the light turns yellow you go ham on the brakes?! How does that make sense?!”

From the backseat, which was crowded with boxes of clothes, household objects, and a wooden katana pushed to the side, a bent spoon sprung towards the front, hitting Satsuki’s purse at the center console.

Satsuki glared at the nasty object.

“Speaking of things that don’t make sense! Ryoma! Are you seriously bringing all this garbage down to my place?!”

“It’s not garbage,” Ryoma shot back.

“Oh, come on.” Satsuki raised the spoon. “This thing is bent and dirty! It’s the definition of garbage!”

“That’s my dad’s favorite spoon!” Ryoma said, snatching the spoon from her. “I can’t throw that away!”

Satsuki then reached back towards the boxes of clothes.

“Then what about this shirt!” she yelled, raising it. “At least throw this one away! It has holes, for crying out loud!” Particularly at the bottom of the shirt.

“No way!” Ryoma said.

He snatched the shirt from her as well.

“My dad wore this every week. It’s his special shirt! And also—”

The boy shot his most disgusting glare at Satsuki.

“—his stuff isn’t garbage. Stop calling it that.”

Ryoma’s tone was cold, and yet, layered beneath it was a plea to his aunt.

For Ryoma, these items were the only things that kept his father’s memories alive.

It hadn’t been long since his father had passed, and it had only been a few weeks since they last saw his spirit.

Satsuki turned to the road and sighed.

Man, did she feel like a jerk.

Her expression softened.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” she said.

The anger in Ryoma’s eyes faded.

“Thank you,” he said.

“But, Ryoma, just know that I only said those things because I worry about you.”

Ryoma turned to the window.

Worried, huh?

Ryoma thought about Satsuki’s words. She was right to an extent. Keeping all of his father’s things may be going a bit overboard.

But how could Ryoma throw any of it away?

It was impossible.

And so the boy sighed.

Riding in awkward silence, Ryoma’s mind flashed back to images of his father and how his spirit had formed into something so dark, so hateful, and so unlike him.

It was unfair. His father’s spirit should’ve passed on.

But then the Leech came and filled his mind with anguish, his eyes with anger.

Ryoma thought back to when he and his aunt chased after the Leech on their own. He remembered the horde of cursed-spirits that surrounded him.

It was the dead of night, and Ryoma struggled to appear calm and collected while facing the spirits who attacked from every side.

Pain seared within his lungs and the boy’s knees nearly gave out when he saw his father’s spirit in the back of the group, watching what would’ve been his last moments with hatred in his once kind eyes.

If it weren’t for his Aunt Satsuki, then…

Ryoma sighed.

He didn’t want to think about it any longer. It was all in the past now. They did all that they could back then. There was no point in getting sad or angry.

Gripping the wheel, Satsuki glanced at the boy once more, hoping that he wasn’t so hurt by her words.

“Ryoma,” she said.

“Hm?”

“Get my phone and play a song for me, will you? Any song will do.”

As long as it lifted the mood and dispelled all this negative energy, then Satsuki was fine with any genre of music—even death metal.

Ryoma complied and dug through Satsuki’s purse to play some classical music.

Satsuki tapped her finger over and over on the wheel.

“You know, Ryoma, you could play any song you want, right?”

“I know,” the boy said. “This is what I want to listen to. Do you not like it?”

“I do,” she lied. “But I didn’t think you’d enjoy something like this.”

His aunt then sighed.

“Oh well. At least it’s something to calm me down after dealing with all these idiots on the road.”

The two hummed along to the music as they continued driving. Their destination was ‌Satsuki’s apartment all the way in Kanagawa.

That was until Satsuki’s phone began ringing.

The boy’s aunt kept her eyes on the road.

“Who is it, boy?”

Ryoma tilted his head.

“I don’t know. All it says is ‘Boss’ with a bunch of devil emojis.”

“Oh, my goodness. That’s one of the monks from the temple. Come on, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!”

“Okay. Okay.”

Ryoma paused the music and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello? Boss, is that you?” his aunt asked.

“Yeah, it’s me. I've got important news for you, Satsuki. Are you busy?” His voice was deep and without a hint of playfulness.

“No, not at all,” Satsuki said. “I’m with my nephew, that's all. So, what’s going on?”

The boss went quiet before speaking.

“Me and the other monks have news about the Leech’s location, as well as her underlings.”

Ryoma’s heart ached at those words. Then there was a heat. A heat that grew from the pit of his stomach and a heat that rose through his chest.

Everything. He needed to know everything about this! But he remained silent. He needed to stay level-headed.

His aunt Satsuki peered at her nephew’s face and saw the blaze that flickered in his eyes.

She knew what the boy was going through. She felt the same way herself, but her anger was nowhere near the same level as Ryoma’s. Because to her, this wasn’t something to get angry over. No, this was something to celebrate.

The boy’s aunt smiled.

“Where is she?” Satsuki asked.

Where was the wench who took her brother?