Reunion

The late morning sun lays on Junko’s leather jacket, and seeps through the fabric to hug her gentle skin. She stands at the base of her apartment building, waving goodbye to Kei Okazaki - who drives away after having dropped her back home. The Spring air - that should be filled with youth, warmth, and innocence - is weighed down by anxiety, fear, and worry.

Just the night prior, after having witnessed true familial love and tenderness for the first time in over a decade, Junko decided to visit her mother. Chie Fukumoto, who has not been seen or heard of since the day of Junko and Niko’s custody trial, continues to live in their childhood home in the outskirts of Shinjuku.

Once Kei’s car fades from view, Junko lets out a deep sigh as she drops her waving hand to her side. The thought of visiting her mother after all of this time came easily to Junko’s vulnerable mind, but it was a hard mission to accomplish in reality. Despite Chie not receiving custody of Niko or Junko, she still had ample opportunity to see them - or even just call once in a while. Nonetheless, Chie never spoke another word to her kids or ex-husband ever again.

Now, after fifteen years, Junko is closing the gap, and visiting her estranged mother, Chie. She turns her back towards the road, and enters the gate to her apartment building. Bringing her eyes towards the complex in front of her, she thinks to her brother - who is more than likely still asleep in his messy bedroom.

She thought about telling Niko about her plan before she left, but Junko ultimately decided against it. Niko was only two years old at the time of their mother’s leave, so he did not have many fond or important memories of Chie before she left. The only shred of Chie he still holds onto is the tiny, pink toy he made into a keychain that he got when he was a child.

Chie thought Niko was going to be a girl, so his first toy was plastered in girly pinkness. As a child, the color of the toy did not matter - as long as Niko could chew away at the plasticity of the item, it was good for him. Even through the years, the girliness and femininity of the object did not faze the aging boy. The simple memory of Chie simply brought him a comfort that he could not, and did not want to describe.

Junko tears her gaze away from the building, and walks over to her parked motorcycle. Running her hand over the seat, she swings a leg over the material, and rests her body onto the bike. Fisting her hand into her pocket, Junko tears out her key ring, and inserts the correct key into the ignition. Twisting slightly, the vehicle comes to life.

Junko kicks the kickstand back, and starts stepping backwards to reverse the bike out of place. Revving her engine, Junko takes off out of the parking lot, and rides out into the morning streets of Tokyo. Without her helmet on to protect her, Junko is vulnerable to the whipping air that cascades against her purely white eyelashes, and pulls the strands of her hair clear out of her squinting face.

Junko’s heart pounds in her chest, and reverberates throughout the rest of her body. The echoes of her beating heart thrash upon the chambers of her ears - intensifying the sounds tenfold. As Junko drives through the streets, she does not hit a single red or yellow light. It is as if fate was beckoning her to drive further, to push onwards towards her mother - giving her no sign to turn back and forget about the stupid idea.

Soon enough, Junko reaches the street in which she grew up. Memories flood back in cataclysmic waves - some genuinely happy, some downright unpleasant. Sometimes, a memory would be so vivid that she could see her young self out in the street, playing with a similarly aged Jiro in the warm afternoon sun. Smiles are painted on their lucid faces as Junko happily chases a laughing Jiro around with a stick.

Pulling her motorcycle to a stop, Junko reaches the outside of her childhood home. It looks so different, yet the atmosphere it submits to the girl feels the same as it did all those years ago. Her memories ring vividly in her mind, and she sees her mother planting flowers in the once perfected garden out front. Junko energetically chases a butterfly around the small yard as an infantile Niko lays upon a blanket next to Chie.

Bringing herself back to reality, all that lies ahead is an unkempt yard with dead flowers and overgrown weeds. No butterflies or bees find solace on this small lawn, nor does any color or hints of life at all. Sighing at the poor, unfortunate sight, Junko switches off her engine, and places her bike in park outside of the home.

Her erratic heartbeat reminds her of the anxiety weighing down her body, and the turbulent trepidation from walking through the rusted iron gate fills her chest. Latching her hand onto the top of the cold, iron gate, Junko steps through the barrier, and squeaks the entryway closed behind her shaking body.

Junko’s gait exudes fear as she walks past the jungly front lawn and the disorganized garden. The dirty smell of uncut grass and non-native weeds fill her nose as she ascends the walkway and approaches the front door. The wooden door shows visible wear from age, and Junko runs her sweaty hand down the surface as she reminisces about her childhood silently.

However, as she does so, the front door pushes open slightly from her touch. Junko’s heart drops to her stomach at the action - for she was not prepared for the front door to be unlocked and open to the public. Treading lightly, she pushes the door open further, and the hinges groan from the movement.

Junko allows her eyes to peer into the dark house - which was peculiar, considering it was morning, and the curious sun was shining upon the front of the house. Her uneven breath matches the beating of her heart, and Junko decides to take the first step into her old home. The step was light, but heavy at the same time.

Looking to either side, she notices the windows are boarded up from the inside, and black curtains are drawn to ensure darkness within. Bringing her gaze forward, one singular light is lit in the hallway straight ahead of her. It ignites the silhouettes of two closed doors, but the light does not dare enter a room whose open doorway stares right back at a cautious Junko.

“Hello?” Junko finally says, staying in her spot at the door. Her throat was dry - causing her voice to crack and muffle from the stiffness. Clearing her throat anxiously, Junko speaks once again: “M-Mom? Are you here? It’s… It’s me, Junko!” Despite her efforts, there is no reply that sings back to the hopeful girl in the dark building.

Junko decides to walk further into the house - reasoning with herself that it is her childhood home, and her sweet, lonely mother wouldn’t mind if her daughter decided to pay a visit after all this time. She approaches the living room to the right of the house, and observes how filthy and unkempt the inside of the house is - just like the garden out front.

Although the disorganization throws Junko off a bit, what really captures her attention was the far wall of the living room. Squinting her eyes, she walks closer to the curious sight. Once the contents on the wall come into clear view, Junko’s eyes shoot open as her jaw drops in shock and confusion.

Pictures of officers were stapled to the drywall, and a red string connects to and from various pictures of the individuals. Scribbles, writings, and explanations corresponding to the threads are etched in an inky, black marker on the surface of the wall. Takashi Shimizu, Miyu Honda, Hotaru Sawai, Daitan Hagimoto, Nao Watanabe, Kaito… even young Junko, Niko, and Jiro are found amongst the many photographs messily stapled to the wall.

But, at the dead center of them all, lay Mamoru Fukumoto in all his glory. All of the strings end up connected to his crumpled photograph, and it was hard to make out that it is actually his face underneath the all of the red string. Junko’s hand slowly raises up to her mouth at the confusing, and somewhat horrifying sight in front of her.

Taking a step back, Junko hears a creak in the floorboards that did not stem from her. The sudden sound makes her heart drop into her stomach once again, and she turns her back to the jarring wall in the living room. Walking forward on high alert, Junko turns her head to the illuminated hallway to her right. What used to be an empty hallway, now held a shadowy figure at the doorway of the far, opened room.

The sudden image makes Junko stumble backwards, and she finds herself standing in her previous spot right in front of the opened front doorway. The sun illuminates Junko’s back, and her white hair looks to be on fire from the morning sun behind her. Contrastingly, the dark shadow in the doorway ahead seeps into blackness, and their humanoid silhouette sticks out against the gloominess of the space behind it.

Junko stares straight ahead, and nothing but the sound of her own unstable heartbeat vibrates in her ears. Needing to break the silence, Junko’s lips part. “Mommy?” Junko asks lightly, but due to the silence surrounding them, her quiet voice carries to the figure down the hall. The sound makes the shadowy shape visibly twitch, and after a moment’s hesitation, the figure steps into the light in the hallway.

Junko’s eyes open at the sight of her own mother standing under the flickering light above her. Even though Junko’s instincts told her that this person is Chie, her visible appearance offered no support for this claim. What Junko remembered to be a youthful, long blonde-haired, genuinely happy woman - was now a severely older, sunken and stressed woman with a crazed look in her pale brown eyes.

Despite the sour sight, Junko’s eyes begin to tear in joy, and the curves of her lips dip up faintly at her mother’s appearance. She goes to address her mother once again, with confidence this time, but is interrupted before she gets the chance to speak.

“Get out.”

Her voice is scratchy and pointed, determined for Junko to exit the broken household. The command makes Junko’s previously lighthearted expression fade to one of confusion and slight sadness. “What?” Junko asks, genuinely befuddled, “Mommy, it’s me, Junko! Your daughter! We… we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but I missed you so much, and I-”

“It’s always the same goddamned thing with you, isn’t it?” Chie spits at her daughter, her scratchy voice scraping the walls and floors as it travels to Junko. “Every time you come here, it’s always the same thing! I really can’t come up with anything better, can I?!” Chie throws her hands to the sides of her head and grips the hair that falls beneath her touch.

Junko’s mouth twitches as her eyes pull open in slight fear of the scene ahead of her. “What are you talking about, Mom?” She asks, her voice quiet and light, “I haven’t… I haven’t been here in fifteen years. This is the first time I’ve visited since I was seven…” Chie sparks her dead eyes back up at her daughter, and the red veins in the whites of her eyes shine against the glint of the light above.

For a twinkling of a second, Junko is sure she saw a flash of the mother she remembered: young, healthy, strong, and most of all, happy. Just as quick as the moment came, it was gone, and Junko truly stands facing a vexed woman staring straight through her - as if she was some sort of hallucination.

“That’s what you always say, don’t you?” Chie bluntly rebukes Junko’s previous statement, “If you’re my real daughter, then tell me this: did he or did he not force you to join that… that cult of his?!” Chie’s voice gradually turns to a menacing shout, and the shrill of her voice outshines the beating of Junko's heart within her eardrums.

Junko’s hands raise in front of chest defensively against the alarming yells from her mother, and her eyebrows draw together in a fearful confusion. “Cult? I-I don’t… I mean… I guess, in a way… yes, I suppose? I don’t understand-”

Chie throws her head back, and is doused in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “I knew it!” She manages to shriek between maniacal laughs, “I knew you were nothing but a pathetic mock-up! My daughter would never agree to join something like that sickening little group he composed! Junko, she… she was my sweet, little flower…”

Chie continues to rant and mumble nothings to herself as she turns and enters the dark room behind her. Though the distance between the two women grows, her voice carries through the thick silence situated in the empty and dismantled house Junko finds herself in. Her breath grows more erratic, and she finds it difficult to control in the presence of her mother.

“But you,” Chie says, unearthing herself from the darkness once more, “You’re nothing but a phony. You taunt me of my daughter’s existence. You’re just scum that I’ve conjured up in my own, messed up head! Everyday you walk through that door, and you say the same goddamned thing to me, expecting me to believe it! Expecting me to fall for my own stupid games!”

Behind her back, Chie pulls out something shiny that catches the flickering light above her. Bringing it to the front of her body, Chie holds the item in both of her hands. “Get out,” Chie repeats again, in that same low, scratchy voice, “Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head! Get out! Get out!”

In an instant, Chie starts sprinting towards the stunned Junko still stationed in her spot by the front door. Her eyes remain fully ajar at the impending sight in front her. Though Junko realizes her mother wields a butcher knife, and is aiming it at her own daughter, Junko cannot help but stay put while frozen in shock.

“Mom…” Junko whispers, but goes unheard from her mother’s perpetuous shouts, “Mom, stop it! Please… it’s me, Junko! I promise! Mommy!”

“Mommy!” A seven-year old Junko shouted from her seated position in the crowd of adults. The volume and intensity of her small voice rang above both her brother and her mother’s shrill screams resounding throughout the courtroom - causing all of the attention in the room to fall upon her young and innocent frame.

From her manic stance in the front of the courtroom, Chie’s body thrashed towards the calls of her daughter. Chie stared down the young girl, whose eyes were filled with sheer terror at the scene in front of her as she held her newborn, hysterical brother in her juvenile lap. Tears cascaded down her puffy, red cheeks while her eyes attempted to understand her mother’s actions.

“My little Junko…” Chie whispered to herself, as her mind sobered up at the sight of her petrified daughter, “I’m going to save you. I’m not going to let him get away with this. He’s sick, he’s crazy! I know exactly what he’s going to try and rope you into, my love! Whatever you do, don’t listen to him! He’s a crazy bastard, Junko!”

To the right, a man in a professional suit stood up slowly from his seat next to Mamoru. As he cleared his throat underneath Chie’s screams, he straightened out his tie. “Your Honor,” He proclaimed, grabbing the attention of the woman who sat in the high, wooden chair.

“The opposing party is quite obviously displaying her mental illness and incapacity that we have identified previously. Now that you have seen this personally, there is no way this woman is capable of caring for an adolescent and an infant in this state of mind!”

Chie whipped her body towards Mamoru and his lawyer, where she saw her ex-husband shamefully slouched over - not muttering a single word to the ordeal he was rightfully a part of. She scoffed at the preppy man’s argument, and her face twitched back into one assuming rage and heavy irritation. “You know nothing, you lousy, primped snake!”

She threw her arm outwards, and roughly extended her index finger towards the object of her hatred: her ex-husband. “Mamoru Fukumoto is a villain,” She spat with venom spewing from her soul, “He’s crazy, not me! Giving my kids away to him is practically murder! You have no idea of the things I’ve been through, and now you’re trying to stop me from saving my children?! Imbeciles! You all know nothing!”

Chie let out a blood-curdling scream that groaned from the bottom of her stomach. The noise only made Niko’s shrieks intensify, and Junko twitched from the violent volume of his cries. “Someone get this lady her schizo meds,” Mamoru’s arrogant lawyer chirped sarcastically, shoving a thumb towards the deranged woman to his left.

“Hey, cut that out, you asshole!” Mamoru whisper-shouted to his lawyer, as he stabbed his eyes up to the man with the overly gelled hair. The judge began slamming her gavel down, causing another loud noise to reverberate against the painted glass windows of the courtroom. “Order!” She demanded in her brute, masculine voice, “Order in the court!”

At her command, the only sound to be heard were the small sniffles exuding from Niko’s small nostrils. The woman with the heavy, black robes sighed a deep breath as she set down her wooden gavel. “Officer, please detain the woman.” From the left side of the front of the room, a police officer curtly nodded at the demand, and marched over to Chie in all of her demonic glory.

He pulled out his handcuffs, and slapped them onto her bony wrists. “Hey, wait!” Chie resisted, thrashing against the apprehension, “You’ve got it all wrong! He’s crazy! He’s insane, not me! I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!” The officer tugged her arms along, placing Chie’s body in front of his own as they staggered towards the back exit of the courtroom. In doing so, they passed Junko and Niko amongst the rest of the audience.

Chie’s crazed eyes laid upon Junko’s terrified, naïve ones. “He’s gonna kill you,” Chie shoved out in a breath - tired from her struggles, “I’m gonna save you. Both of you. You’ll see.”

“Get out of my head!” Chie now shouts towards her petrified daughter as she upturns the knife in her grasp. Raising the weapon above her head, Chie approaches the stunned Junko just in front of the opened doorway. Thrusting the knife down, Chie aims the dull blade at her daughter’s left shoulder.

Junko is a thoroughly and professionally trained police officer of substantial rank. Her mother, on the other hand, was an aging, fifty-something year old woman with a degree in business. In no way, shape, or form, could Chie ever purposefully injure Junko in a fight head-on…theoretically.

But, as Junko stands frozen in shock, she finds herself unable to move, or to defend herself against this manic woman she is supposed to call ‘Mom’. Thus, as Chie slashes her knife down upon the jacket-clad shoulder of her daughter, the knife rakes Junko’s skin through the rough leather, as well as the thin t-shirt underneath.

Junko grimaces at the abrasion, and throws her right hand up to console the injury as she falls down onto the cold, wooden floor. Opening her squinted eyes, Junko looks back up to the woman who throws uneven, wet breaths down to the fallen girl below her. Her flat, haggard chest rises and falls inconsistently as her eyes train crazily at Junko.

“Out,” She hawks lowly, in her scratchy voice, “Get out. Stop coming here. I need to save my real Junko, before it’s too late,” Chie raises the knife above her head once more, not dropping her eyes from the vulnerable girl at her feet, “And I don’t need any distractions.”

Junko’s eyes pull open at the movement, and her heart drops in realization. Now aware of her surroundings, Junko backs away from her mother while still on the ground. Chie throws an irritated look at her, and visibly grips the weapon in her hands tighter within her grip. Hoisting herself up, Junko stands to her full height underneath the door frame.

Tears form in the crevices of her eyes as she stares at Chie. Pulling her lips in to stop them from quivering, Junko swallows a muted sob. “I love you, Mom,” Is all Junko states before she sprints out of the house - slamming the door closed behind her. Thankfully, silence is heard once more in the house she rests her back on, and a sigh filled with sadness escapes her chapped lips.

Focusing on her new scenery, Junko brings her gaze towards her parked motorcycle at the curb. However, she spots a bystander staring ever so intently at her vehicle. Confused, Junko scrunches her eyebrows together as she heaves her back off of the now shut door. Making her way down the broken walkway, Junko’s eyes gradually widen at the sight in front of her.

At the foot of her bike stands her father, Mamoru Fukumoto - as he holds a bouquet of white tulips in one hand, and a paper medication bag in the other. His face is stiff: solidified in an expression of pure shock and fear, with his eyes wide and cheeks sunken in. Junko reaches the iron gate she crossed earlier this morning, staring in terror at the presence of her father on the other side of the barrier.

Having heard her approach, Mamoru slowly drags his stunned gaze from the familiar vehicle to his equally surprised daughter. At the sight of Junko, Mamoru drops the white tulips and the medication in his now loose grip. They fall to the floor pathetically, abandoned on the warm concrete.

Opening his mouth to speak at last, he is interrupted by a clamor from behind Junko. He draws his eyes to the sight as she turns to face the interruption. There, in the ripped open entryway, stands a demented Chie with that same butcher knife in her clutch. Mamoru’s eyes widen even more, and his heart rate intensifies at the sight.

Then, in an instant, Chie begins charging at Junko once again. Junko staggers backwards at the sudden maneuver, and throws her uninjured arm atop the iron gate. Pushing it open, Junko’s arm is grabbed by her father. He pulls her arm towards himself - guiding her off of the house’s walkway, and slams the iron gate closed once again.

He tosses her towards her motorcycle, staring down at her as a rushed and enraged emotion surfaces in his eyes. “Meet me at my apartment!” He demands in an inflamed and exasperated tone, “Go, now!” Junko does not object, and tears her keys from her pocket. Throwing herself onto the seat of her motorcycle, she juts the key into the ignition.

Chie makes it past the iron gate just as Junko veers off and into the street, following Mamoru’s luxurious car at a high velocity. She stares at the retreating duo, dropping the butcher knife on the floor as it lands next to the tulips and medication. Bringing her gaze down, Chie’s eyes land upon the abandoned items that lay in the morning sun.

Grimacing at the pitiful sight, her fists tighten in annoyance. Chie pilots her right knee upwards towards her sickly chest, and thrusts it down onto the gifts left grimly at the curbside. Her foot collides with the paper bag, and the orange plastic bottle shatters from the pressure. Small, white pills scatter against the pavement with each passing stomp.

About thirty minutes later, Junko’s slashed jacket lays upon the couch in Mamoru’s living room, and she sits upon the vanity of his single bathroom. Mamoru stands in front of his daughter, unraveling bandages from the roll. A disappointed and crossed look takes over his features, and neither of the two have said a word since they entered the apartment.

Mamoru sighs a weighted breath as he pushes Junko’s short left sleeve above her shoulder. “I’m not going to ask why you went in the first place,” Her father says grimly as he begins wrapping the bandage around her wound, “But I ask you this much: are you happy now? Did you see what you wanted to see? Did you get the reunion you were hoping for?”

Junko’s eyes squint from the new pressure on her arm, as well as from the pressure of her father’s poking and jeering questions he throws at her. “No, dad, I…” Junko begins quietly, trying to harbor the tears desiring to escape, “I didn’t know… I just wanted-”

“Chie has had schizophrenia since she was in highschool,” Mamoru begins, explaining his ex-wife’s actions bluntly, “Putting her on medication stopped the effects of the illness, but around the time of our divorce, she stopped taking them for… some reason. She’s unwell, and I never wanted you to taint the fond memories you had of her by seeing who she is now.”

Junko’s eyes open in a sympathetic surprise, and her mouth parts from the new information. She watches as her father’s face grows from one of sad recollection, to one of suppressed anger and irritation. His dazed eyes shoot to her own, and he faintly bares his teeth in rage. Bringing his free hand up, he fiercely slaps Junko across the right side of her face.

Her eyes remain wide at the sudden, vicious act, as a red imprint surfaces on her right cheek. From the momentum of the slap, her eyes were pushed to the wall on her left - and she did not dare train them away from the tiled surface now positioned in front of her. The sound of Mamoru’s haggard breaths sprays on her exposed face as he stares down at his daughter.