Some Sort of Delinquent

“My first day in the city and I’m already lost,” I muttered to myself as I aimlessly wandered the streets of Obihiro. Sighing, I glanced down at the phone held loosely in my hand. “And of all the times for the battery to go dead, it just had to be right now.”

Slipping the useless device back into my pocket, I glanced around in an attempt to get my bearings. I had been so flustered over my dying phone, it was the first time that I had properly taken in my surroundings, and in finally doing so, I swallowed hard, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I took in the cracked roads and stained siding of the nearby houses. Across the street was what looked like an old service garage, the windows haphazardly shuttered over with wooden planks. Judging from the faded graffiti skull displayed on the whitewashed blocks and the layer of rust coating the tin roof of the structure, it had been out of business for quite a while.

Just keep your head down, and keep moving, I told myself, pointedly ignoring the occasional, if rare, passerby. As much as I wanted to stop and ask for directions, who knew what kind of people might be living in an area as run-down as this? I decided that it was safer to just mind my own business and try find somewhere safe, like a convenience store. The issue was, I had no idea where the nearest one was, and without my phone, the best I could do was to just keep walking in the hopes that, eventually, I’d stumble onto one.

However, after about another half hour of walking, it was clear that I was getting nowhere. I stopped at an abandoned intersection and glanced around, ruffling my bleached hair in frustration. There’s no end to this! And everything looks more or less the same. Have I just been going around in circles this whole time? Ugh, I am so hopelessly lost. And to make matters worse… I looked towards the horizon, where the sun was slowly beginning to sink out of view behind the veneer of dilapidated buildings, It’s going to be dark, soon. I definitely don’t want to be wandering around out here at night! Plus, I’m already late for my meeting with the landlady. Maybe I should just ask someone for directions, after all…

As I debated my next move, a noise from a nearby alleyway caught my attention. Looking over towards the narrow passage, already cast into almost complete darkness by the rows of two-story homes that flanked it on both sides, I focused my attention on the sound, straining my ears to make out someone’s stifled cries, accompanied by a metal clanking noise.

I hesitated, and – taking yet another inspection of my surroundings to find that the area was still entirely devoid of any other life – cautiously sidled around just enough to take a look down the alley. As much as I knew I shouldn’t get involved in whatever was going on down there, I was curious.

Squinting as my eyes slowly adjusted to the change in lighting, I managed to identify the source of the ruckus; a pair of legs sticking out of a tall metal trashcan!

I paused, staring at the sight in disbelief for a few moments. I should leave. I definitely should not get involved in whatever this is.

As if sensing that I was nearby, the legs started kicking wildly at the air, rocking the can enough to make it dance around in a circle while a muffled voice wordlessly cried out from inside. No matter how hard they tried, however, they were unable to get the can to flip over, and after a few moments, they gave up, presumably too tired to go on. Moments later, the fervent cries I had been hearing changed into what sounded like sobs of despair as whoever was inside realized that they were indeed, stuck.

I sighed heavily, reiterating to myself, No good can come of this. Just stay out of it. Someone will come along and help. Even though I thought the words, I also knew that the chances of anyone coming along and stumbling upon this situation, let alone actually helping, were slim to none.

Fine! I’ll do it! I thought, growling as I stomped my way towards the can and assured the occupant, “Hey, just stay calm. I’ll help you out of there.”

Firmly grabbing the can, I toppled it over, pulling it off of the torso of the man trapped inside. I grimaced as I was greeted by the smell of rotten food and waste, and held my breath as I set the can aside and examined the victim. It was only then that I saw that he was bound and gagged, his tan face soaked with sweat and other viscous fluids of which I was fine not knowing the origins. His wide black eyes stared up at me, ringed with tears, and I had to hold back a chuckle as an image of a puppy dog flashed into my mind.

Gingerly, I untied the gag and removed it from the man’s mouth, and he worked his jaw for a moment as I set about trying to pick apart the impressive knot binding his hands behind his back.

“Hey, thanks a lot buddy,” he croaked, licking his dry lips, “I really owe ya one.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said absently, clicking my tongue as I fought with the unyielding ropes.

“My pocket,” the man said simply, shuffling to reveal the side of his suit jacket.

I paused for a moment to consider what he meant before mumbling, “Then, excuse me.” Delving into his pocket, my fingers closed around something cold and metallic, and I pulled back to stare at the wicked pocket knife I now held, in the shape of a bright red dragon. I gulped as I flipped it open and easily sliced through the rope I had previously struggled against.

Carefully closing the knife up and handing it back, the man returned it to his pocket and massaged his wrists, standing up to stretch after being cooped up in the can for who knew how long. Now that I was able to get a better look at him, I realized that he was actually a very intimidating fellow!

His face was thin and tanned, with hard lines that put him somewhere in his early twenties, perhaps? Not only that, he had to be almost two meters tall, and while he was thin and not visibly muscular, he did appear to be fit. However, the most disturbing feature was the tribal tattoo that wound its way across his chest, where his disheveled shirt had come unbuttoned, ending on the side of his neck.

Yakuza! I thought, having seen enough depictions of their kind over the years in television and games. Weakly, I told him, “Well, good to see you’re alright. I’ll just be on my way, then…”

As I turned to leave, the man stopped me by growling, “Hey, hold up.”

I jumped, and shakily turned back towards him. “Y-yeah? Wh-what’s…up?”

The man towered over me, crossing his arms and staring down with his stony black eyes. The image was ruined slightly by the wet stains and bits of refuse clinging to his wrinkled suit, as well as the brown banana peel sitting atop his head like a rotten crown. “Name’s Kenji. Kenji Nakamura. And don’t think you can just run off after saving my sorry ass. At least tell me to whom I owe my debt.”

“T-Takashi Miura,” I replied, immediately kicking myself for using my real name. I quickly backpedaled, stammering, “B-but you don’t owe me anything, really! I just happened to be in the area, so…”

He frowned, and I trailed off, his gaze boring straight through me as he narrowed his eyes. “Miura, huh? No, make that Mister Miura. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before, and I know pretty much everyone. Not really a place people come to visit, ya know? You get lost or something?” His eyes lingered for a moment on my bleached hair before his face was split by a wide grin, and he added, “Or are you just that much of a badass? Either way, if you’d like, I can show you around.”

Seeing him in a more jovial mood seemed to take the tension out of me, and I smiled as I felt myself relax slightly. “Well…” I began, and explained my situation to him.

Nodding along, he laughed and exclaimed, “Oh, yeah, I know the place. Actually, I live there too! Must be some kind of fate we met, huh? C’mon, I’ll show you the way. Just stick close; we’re still in enemy turf, and I’m unarmed.”

Unarmed! I thought, panicking for a few moments over the implications. But with no better ideas, I followed the man’s lead, nervously glancing over my shoulder the whole way.

As we walked, Kenji endeavored to make small talk. “So, you’re new here, huh? Sweet, been a while since we got some new blood! No wonder the old bat’s been in a better mood lately.”

Old bat? I wondered, asking instead, “So, I have to ask. How exactly did you end up in the trash?”

He barked a sharp laugh and replied, “I was running solo and strayed out too far. Got jumped by a local gang and next thing I knew, I was upside-down in the dark. Who knows what might’ve happened if you hadn’t come along. Still, it’s pretty ballsy of ya to go alone out here in unfamiliar territory.”

“Thank…you?” I said hesitantly. The way he said it had certainly made it sound like a compliment.

The man merely grunted in response, and as we turned a corner, he said, “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

As I took in the two-story building, Kenji waved to the hunched-over, elderly lady tending to the nearby flowerbeds, stepping over the greet her. Before he even got close, the woman turned her garden hose at him on full-blast, and he spluttered in the face of the onslaught, the banana peel flying off of his head at long last.

After a few moments the lady stopped her assault, and as he stood there, dripping wet, she began to scold him in a harsh voice, “There you are, you damned delinquent! I told you I wanted the door to room one-five fixed today, and what do you do? You disappear! I know you weren’t out looking for a job!”

“Hey, a lot happened, alright? I’ll get around to it!” Kenji spluttered, holding up a hand as she sprayed him again and continued with her berating tone.

“And not only do you ignore the task I gave you, you come back covered in filth and smelling like a sewer! Honestly…” She trailed off as she finally noticed me standing – cowering, really – behind him, and she growled, “And just who is this, now? I didn’t think you had any friends.”

“My name is Takashi Miura,” I told her, bowing in reverence, “I, ah, had applied to be a tenant? Please forgive me for being so late, I ended up getting lost along the way.”

Upon hearing my words, the woman’s face immediately brightened, and pushing Kenji aside, she happily exclaimed, “Oh, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person, Mr. Miura! Mami Kai here, at your service! I had entirely forgotten that you were supposed to be coming today. Here, this is yours.” Rummaging around in one of the deep pockets of her flowery apron, she retrieved a key on a heavy keychain and handed it to me, adding, “Rent’s due on the first of the month.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kai,” I said respectfully, bowing once again.

The woman placed her hands on her hips and beamed a wide smile at me as she barked at Kenji, “See, hooligan? This is how one should treat their elders! Now make yourself useful and show him to his room, would ya?” In a softer tone, she said to me, “And if you need anything dear, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

Assuring her I would, I followed as Kenji led the way up the staircase to the second floor of the complex, grumbling to himself as he attempted to ring the water out of his suit. “Boss Lady’s sure taken a liking to you. It’s strange. Don’t think I’ve seen her crack a smile the entire time I’ve known her.”

“I got that impression, yeah,” I laughed in response, stopping beside him as he gestured towards a door.

“Room two-three, right? Looks like this is your stop. Coincidentally, that also makes you my neighbor!” He waved a hand towards a door nearby marked, ‘2-2.’

“Thanks,” I told him, making sure the key worked and pushing open the door to reveal my new apartment.

Behind me, Kenji replied, “No, thank you Mr. Miura. Mark my words I won’t forget today. You ever need anything and the old bat’s not around, you feel free to hit me up, yeah?”

“Sure,” I agreed, waving farewell to the man and closing the door behind me.

Slowly, the vision faded away, and I came back to my senses to find myself sitting on the floor, my back against the cool wooden door of my apartment. The world still spun, and my head felt as though it were trying to split in half! Pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes, I fought against a sudden wave of nausea that came, and gradually subsided.

That memory was intense, nothing like what happened at the hospital. It felt like I was actually reliving it all, I thought, and sighed, letting my head fall back against the hard door. Thinking about everything that had happened, I suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter as I remembered, That’s right. Kenji might talk a tough game, but he’s actually a giant softie. He’d been playing with the neighborhood kids when they peppered him with water balloons and tossed him in the trash. Then, with my and Mrs. Kai’s help…I chuckled as I recalled the two of us, water guns and balloons in hand, hunting down the kids responsible and getting revenge while Mami turned her hose on anyone that got too close to home.

As my laughter trailed off, I blankly stared at the ceiling and wondered, Wait, was I actually some sort of delinquent?