Forced To Be Selfless

“They call themselves the Tokyo Pistols.”

Yuuto sits in front of his computer screen with a hunched over Jiro standing to his right. He reads off of his desktop to Jiro, and the accompanying Ren and Niko - who stand a distance away to allow Yuuto some personal space. The sun and sky is setting, and the orange hues dance on top of the floorboards and glisten as they strike through the air.

Kagome sits silently on the couch, bundled up in a blanket and a large hoodie wrapped around her body. It has been just a few hours since her scene in the bathroom, and all she wanted was to relax, and take her mind off of everything that has happened. Now, she listens in on the boys’ conversation, with her knees hiked up on the couch beside her, and her arms snuggled beneath the blanket on top of her.

“They took the name after the original Tokyo Pistols, after they were dismantled by-”
“I’m familiar with the subject. You can skip over this part,” Jiro interjects, desiring to not recollect past events.

Yuuto clears his throat, and readjusts himself in the chair. “Right, sorry,” Yuuto bashfully apologizes, “The latest members of the newly instated Tokyo Pistols are descendants of past leaders that died on… that night. The reasoning is unclear as to why they are resurfacing, but all logic points to vengeance, and them wanting to avenge their deceased parents and friends.”

Jiro’s jaw tenses as he listens to Yuuto talk. His left hand is placed on the back of his swiveling chair, and his right roots itself to the flat surface of the table in front of him. “Avenging their parents?” Jiro asks, clear disbelief ringing in his tone, “Do they not realize their parents were bad people? That they were in an organized gang?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Yuuto raises his eyebrows while his hands and fingers hover above the black keyboard. “That’s what they were raised by, Jiro,” Yuuto responds, bringing in a new perspective, “They worshipped their parents - no matter how warped that idea is - and now that they were killed, they’ll do anything to avenge their ‘unrighteous’ deaths.”

Yuuto slides his right hand over to the mouse, and begins scrolling and clicking new links to share other information with his friends. “I knew these random cases of arson were strange, so I’ve been following them since the fifth case of arson reported in Minato City. Now, they’re up to thirteen. I haven’t found a reason for the arson attempts, but they all stem from old, abandoned apartment buildings.”

Jiro’s strained eyes drag over the screen, looking over one of the many reports of arson in Minato City filed by the Tokyo Prefectural Police Department. Pulling his mouth to the side, Jiro decides to voice his thoughts: “In my mind, they’re doing one of two things. Either they are sending a message that they’re back, or…”

“They’re looking for somebody,” Ren and Niko say in unison from behind Yuuto and Jiro. The two boys closer to the computer turn around, and Jiro smirks as he nods his head in agreement.

“I’ve been tracking each one of the locations of their thirteen arson attacks closely,” Yuuto informs, turning his chair to face the screen once more. On the desktop, a map of the surrounding area pops up, with red lines and circles displaying where each arson took place, and when. “If I’m right - which I always am, because I’m a genius - their next attack should be in an abandoned building right next to the Tokyo Dome.”

Niko steps up, closing the distance between him and the computer table. “I’ve seen that building before,” Niko adds his input, using his index finger to point to the broken, aged home on the screen, “There’s no access to the inside of the building from the street. My friends from middle school and I always tried to sneak in, but there was no way.”

Yuuto nods his head to Niko’s intel, and begins pulling up another tab. “Right, Niko,” He says, his voice agreeing, “Since this building was once in use, there had to have been an entrance somewhere, right? So, after looking into it for a while, I found the way in.”

On the screen pops up an industrial-looking parking garage, with dim lights and smooth asphalt. “The old residents of the building shared the below-ground parking garage situated underneath the Tokyo Dome. So, the Tokyo pistols will need to take this exact route in order to reach the apartment building. And, if my timeline matches up, they should be heading there… tonight.”

“Tonight?!” Ren chirps up in surprise, voicing the three listening boys’ thoughts. Yuuto nods regretfully, unsure of what to make of this situation. He pokes his gaze onto Jiro, and observes his thoughtful expression.

“Temporary Lieutenant,” He says, grabbing Jiro’s attention, “It’s your call. You going tonight and risking it, or should we wait some more, and I’ll continue tracing their movements?” Jiro’s face draws together in deep thought and concentration. His hands rub over his cheeks - untensing his previously clenched jaw. Sighing a breath, Jiro looks down to Yuuto once more.

“We’re going tonight. We’re taking those bastards down, and ending what Takashi started,” Jiro decides, a wide grin crossing his face, “Thank you so much for this, Yuuto. You don’t understand how much I appreciate it.” Jiro clasps his friend’s shoulder in an endearing fashion, and looks thankfully down at the seated technician. Shrugging his shoulders, a soft smirk plays on Yuuto’s face.

“Of course, Jiro,” Yuuto assures, relaxing into his chair, “When you asked me to help you find these guys, I looked at it as a cool, secret side mission that-”

At that moment, the metal door to the apartment swings open, and all of the officers, and Niko, instantly swing their heads to observe the intrusion. Junko enters bashfully, holding her left shoulder in pain from throwing her body into the door. Niko’s and all of the officers’ faces drop in pure shock of Junko’s sudden arrival.

She closes the entryway behind her, and looks up to her gaping friends and family beyond her. Junko throws her keys into the back pocket of her jeans, and an awkward smile plays on her lips. “Hey, guys,” She manages - her voice weak and shy, but the quiet tone reaches the distanced ears.

Niko sprints over to his sister, quickly followed by an excited Ren and Jiro. “Junko!” Niko rejoices happily, throwing himself onto Junko - wrapping his arms around her body in a tight hug, “You had me so worried, you bitch! You couldn’t have even texted me?! Left me a note?! What even happened to you?!”

“Are you alright? Who hurt you?” Ren asks worriedly, reaching his hands to caress the injured shoulder wrapped in bandages, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you, Junko. I’m so, so sorry. I should have been there, I should have supported you…”

Junko shakes her head, and a firm line replaces her once awkward smile. “Ren, don’t you dare blame yourself for this. This was all my fault,” Junko assures before taking a deep sigh, “I… threw myself into a situation that I should not have been in, but my own personal interest seemed to outweigh the consequences in my mind.”

Jiro picked up on the obvious vagueness Junko supported her story with, and took that as a sign to take the spotlight off of their returning Lieutenant. “Junko, Yuuto finally got all the intel we need about the Tokyo Pistols, and we’re taking them down tonight,” Jiro proclaims, his hand landing softly atop her uninjured shoulder. At his words, Junko's eyes widened a small fraction - whether that be in dread, surprise, or both.

“It’ll be in the parking garage underneath the Tokyo Dome, where the only entrance to an abandoned apartment building is located,” Jiro continues informing Junko, “Now, I know you’re injured, so I would like for you to rest up for the time being. But, I know you, and if you wanted to-”

“Even if I wasn’t injured, I still wouldn’t go.”

Junko interjects, pulling all of the attention in the room onto herself. Jiro’s face conveys immense confusion at her statement, and his lips gradually part further and further as the moments pass by. Even the unmoving Kagome and Yuuto stand with perplexed expressions in their rooted positions.

“W-What do you mean, by that?” Jiro asks, bewildered, “I thought, you wanted to help me avenge my Dad’s death. This is how we are going to do it, and you don’t even want to help me anymore? Am I understanding you correctly?”

Junko’s eyes rip from her best friend’s heavy questioning gaze, and flutters through the open apartment. “Yes, Jiro, you are,” Junko affirms, her voice steady, “It’s not that I have given up helping you with your goal. I would never do that to you, Jiro. I want to avenge Takashi nearly as much as you do, and you know that.”

Junko’s eyebrows draw together, as her mind rakes through the countless things she wants to say and admit to her friends. “It’s just that… I have decided to give up being a police officer altogether,” She says seriously, bringing her gaze back to the individuals surrounding her. In doing so, she catches the looks and expressions of utter shock and betrayal written clearly on their faces.

Noticing that none of them were going to respond due to the amount of surprise filling their heads, she decides to continue her declaration. “And, honestly, I think you all should consider leaving the Task Force, too. We are young - we are so, so young - with nothing but our lives ahead of us. And here we are, in this dingy apartment, forced to kill and assassinate borderline terrorists with the weight of an entire city resting on our shoulders!

“We are still kids, and we’ve killed hundreds of people! Does that sound normal to you?!” Junko’s voice raises and strains as she grows frustrated at the life that has been handed to her, “This entire job is just filled to the brim with guns and blood and vengeance, and I don’t want to live like that anymore. And you all should-”

“Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Kagome yells from the couch, causing everyone to now draw their attention to the once silent girl. She stands from her seated position, and the blanket falls to her feet. “Junko, do you even realize what you’re saying right now?! You’re telling us to give all of it up. All of this up! Everything that has brought us together, given us hope, given us meaning after we thought there was none left for us!”

Kagome’s weak voice strains as she yells at Junko, walking towards her with anger and disbelief in her step. “Whether or not this life seems ‘normal’ to you, this is the only life some of us have left. Jiro and I are living at the headquarters, for God’s sake! This is all we fucking have left, Junko! We can’t give this up! You can’t give us up!”

Junko’s eyebrows raise in despair at her friend’s words, and lines of worry dig themselves onto her tense forehead. “But… Do you even want to do this anymore?” Junko asks in a quiet, soft voice, trying to figure out her friends’ thoughts, “I practically forced you all to join this stupid department - you never had a say. I did exactly what my father did to me, to you. I just… I want you all to feel like-”

“You’re making us feel like useless jokes, Junko,” Kagome interjects, her voice aggressive and serious. She crosses her arms as she stares at her former Lieutenant, and her mind clouds over in a suppressed rage. Junko’s bottom lip quivers in anxiety and hopelessness as her eyes train to the floorboards beneath her.

From her right, Jiro finally speaks up, “Yuuto, give me your keys,” He commands, which causes Yuuto to fish his key ring from his pocket, and toss it to Jiro. Catching it swiftly, Jiro brings his eyes to the door positioned behind his best friend. “We are going to the Tokyo Dome. Come or not, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

Jiro walks past Junko without another word, and tugs the metal door open. “Come on, Ren, Niko,” He says as he files through the door. Niko perks up at the inclusion of his name, and quickly follows after the two exiting boys ahead of him. The door clamors shut at their leave, and Junko is left stranded in the heavy silence of the apartment.

Kagome remains standing a few feet in front of Junko, while Yuuto sits back down at his desk. Staring at one of her closest friends, Kagome’s eyes begin to tear up from all the anger, confusion, and betrayal.

“Please don’t leave us, Junko,” Kagome whispers, her throat clogged with mucus and saliva, “Don’t leave us behind. I can’t handle it. I need you here, we all need you here.”

Junko’s mouth parts - her bottom lip slightly shaking - and she raises her trembling hands to the sides of her head. Nothing. Nothing she ever did was ever right: not to her father, not to her friends, and never to herself. Even when she puts everyone else before her, the people she loves most end up being hurt the most.

Junko shakes her head as she watches Kagome retreat over towards Yuuto in the far left corner of the room. What is she to do? Is this the life Junko is forced to live, for the rest of her time alive? Sacrificing herself - day after day - for the people of Tokyo, who don’t even know she exists?

Squinting her eyes shut, Junko’s mind races and pulses with immense pressure, making her grip the sides of her head tighter. The air in the apartment begins to weigh atop of her already weakened body, and it becomes too much to bear. Turning around, Junko rips open the metal door, and throws her legs down the old, rickety steps. Pouring herself into the first floor bar, she is greeted by a fully populated room.

Junko’s heart rate continues to accelerate, and her eyes dart over the room, taking in the sensory overload of the bar before her. Her sight lands upon the women’s bathroom - she immediately maneuvers her way through the crowd and towards the wooden door. Not bothering to knock, Junko hurls herself into the single-stall bathroom, and rapidly shuts and locks the door behind her.

The irritatingly loud and boisterous noise from the bar seeps through the cracks of the doorframe, and spills into Junko’s eardrums. She could feel every ounce of blood rushing through her veins, and it causes her mind to fog over as she grows lightheaded. The wobbling in Junko’s knees causes her to lose balance, as she leans against the firm wall facing the faucet for support.

With her breathing hollow, Junko stares at her own reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. There is a singular, hairline crack in the mirror that catches the glint of the fluorescent light overhead. It went straight through Junko’s figure in the mirror, causing a distorted reflection to reverberate against the glass.

“Nothing,” Junko mutters to herself, her voice just above a whisper. She hoists herself off of the wall, and begins walking towards the sink. “Nothing I do ever matters, unless it benefits someone else. Nothing I do is ever in my favor. Nothing, never.”

Her sweaty hands grip the frame of the faucet, and she pushes a portion of her weight onto the porcelain sink. Junko’s eyes drag over her own complexion, taking in all that she is in this moment. “Do I have to live with it forever?” She asks herself, as her eyes squint in question.

“The cold, dead, lifeless eyes of every person I’ve ever killed, burned into my memory - haunting me while I sleep? This is my destiny? This is why I was brought into the world?”

Junko squeezes the ledge tighter within her grasp. “Who am I to decide who lives and dies, when I don’t even deserve to live, myself?” Junko’s eyes begin to tear up, as she finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, “Why… Why did everything have to turn out this way? I never wanted this…”

Junko’s heart rate begins to pick up once again, and she tears her hard, desolate gaze away from her reflection. Shaking her head, Junko scoffs at her own words. The events from moments prior - the words Kagome yelled so deep and aggressively to her - echoed in her memory.

“Now just look at you,” Junko mutters as she stares at the grimy, wet sink, “You had one job - to keep everyone safe, and happy - and you’ve failed both in a matter of minutes. What kind of leader are you? You say you don’t deserve this job. Truth is, this job doesn’t deserve you.”

She can hear each pulse of her heart pound against her ears - encapsulating most of her hearing. Consequently, Junko did not pick up the loud banging on the door from a patron in the bar. “Hello?!” The woman shouts, but to no avail - Junko could not hear her pleas, “I need to piss! Let me in!” Bang.

Junko pulls her gaze back up to her own reflection, and a look of guilty disgust washes over her features. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Lieutenant,” Bang.

“Your best friends are throwing themselves into something they are not at all prepared for - and you’re standing in some filthy bar bathroom, crying about how life isn’t fair. Who the hell do you think you are?” Bang.

Clenching her fists together, Junko’s hands tremble with anger and frustration aimed at herself. Unable to control and suppress the emotion boiling within her, Junko bares her teeth and smashes the small, sooty mirror with her right fist. The glass does not fall, but a large shatter encapsulates the surface of the glass. Bang, bang.

Using one square inch of the now broken mirror, Junko stares into her own eyes. “One more time,” She declares in a low, threatening tone, “You’ll do this one more time. Not for you, not for your Dad, but for Jiro… You owe him that much.”

Pushing herself off of the counter, Junko exits the bathroom. Ripping open the door, she sees a woman bending at the knees, hopping in circles in place. After they make eye contact, the woman pushes past Junko, and slams the door behind her back.