Breaking Point

Kagome and Yuuto pull away from each other in an embarrassed surprise, as they hear the metal entrance swing open. Snapping their heads to the noise, the intruders cause their once erratic hearts to drop into the butterflies swimming in their stomachs. A visible confusion overtakes their expressions as their gazes lie on the unknown guests.

One man - dressed head-to-toe in police gear, topped off with a bulletproof vest - stands in front of four other similarly dressed men. A rifle falls in the hands of each man, and their fingers lay readily on the triggers - their sights pinned on the two individuals feet away from each other.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” The commanding officer orders Kagome and Yuuto, aiming his gun at the two, “Get on the ground, now!” Kagome and Yuuto reflexively shove their hands up by their faces, but still remain confused by the ordeal. “Sir, we are officers too!” Yuuto informs, not kneeling to the ground as commanded.

The leader of the pack begins slowly stepping towards Kagome and Yuuto, not training his gun and sight off of them for a second. “I said get on the ground!” He commands again, repeating himself. Yuuto complies, and begins kneeling on the ground - despite his bewilderment and opposition to the command.

Kagome, on the other hand, stands her ground and eyes the commanding officer with a drawn face. “Sir, with all due respect, we are officers of the law, as well!” She shoves back at the man slowly approaching her position, “We are members of the elite Special Operations Task Force division of the-”

Cutting her off suddenly and aggressively, the man reaches Kagome and grabs her roughly by the shoulder. Pushing his strength into her, he shoves her down to the floor, onto her knees. “Watch it, asshole!” Yuuto asserts as he watches Kagome struggle to the floor. “I told you to get on the ground, now shut up!” The man barks back as his men begin entering the room - scoping out the apartment.

Kagome looks to his vest, and spots the name ‘Kiyama’ fastened onto the front. Looking up to the officer before her, Kagome’s eyebrows pull together in frustration. “Officer Kiyama,” She states firmly, drawing the man’s pointed attention to her, “What department are you from? Who are… Why did you… What are you doing here?! On what order-”

Without warning, two of the men approach Kagome and Yuuto from behind, and yank their raised hands behind their backs. Exposing the handcuffs, the two officers latch the metal cuffs onto Kagome and Yuuto's respective wrists. “Hey, watch it!” Kagome yelps, slightly resisting the action. Yuuto snaps his glare up to Officer Kiyama, and stabs his eyes onto the intruding man.

The two other officers begin setting up a video camera, and point the lens directly at Yuuto and Kagome’s knelt position on the floor. One of the two men hands over a small tablet to Officer Kiyama, who nods in acceptance of the device.

Kiyama drags his gaze onto Yuuto’s, and relaxes his weapon onto his hip. Straightening his back, Kiyama’s eyes dart between the two individuals in front of him. “We are the Special Operations Task Force,” Kiyama declares, his voice strong and firm, “And we have a warrant out for your arrests.”

In Mamoru’s apartment, Junko and Jiro’s eyes land upon the television display, and feast their eyes upon their two handcuffed friends on the floor of their apartment. Junko’s mouth dries as her heart swims in the confines of her stomach, while Jiro’s temples coat with layers of salty sweat.

“Now, I think, I should introduce myself,” The blonde man states, as he rejoins the group from the living room, “You two both know me. But, you know me as different people. To you, Junko, I am Kei Okazaki. And to you, Jiro, I am Daku Aoki.”

Junko’s gaze lays onto the approaching man, and her confusion mixes in with the other profound emotions swirling within her mind and heart. “Junko, I want you to think long and hard about the name Aoki. Does it ring any bells up there? I know you’ve heard it before. Come on, think!” The man encourages with a sarcastic ring to his voice.

Her mind mulls over countless memories, trying her hardest to uncover anything surrounding the name ‘Aoki.’ Suddenly, as if all at once, her mind recollects a mission not too long ago that washes in her brain like a tsunami.

“Katsuro Yoshida, a restaurateur right here in Tokyo, caught Daisuke Aoki red handed in what was the beginning of an underground drug ring.”

“Daisuke Aoki. He’s powerful amongst the people due to his seemingly likable personality and
his future in holding what will be a renowned restaurant. Getting rid of him will not be easy.”

Then, her mind flashes to the image burned in her mind of Daisuke Aoki being shot in his own home, and laying lifeless over his arm chair as his children rush to his side.

“Target acquired.”

Jiro’s own mind recollects his encounter with that same mission, and his eyebrows draw as his mind thinks back to that fateful night.

Gripping the metallic zipper in his hands, Jiro pulls at the material and begins securing the contents inside of the bag. As he does so, curiosity gets the better of him as he peers over the ledge one last time - looking to the aftermath of the execution. Within the apartment, he watches as two blonde figures stand at the dead man’s side, holding his shoulders and crying for help.

One blonde girl cries hysterically, shaking the man’s shoulders as her screams could be heard even over the roaring traffic below Jiro. The blonde boy next to her is equally as traumatized: holding the sides of his head in his hands - staring down at the incapacitated man situated on the chair in front of him.

Jiro, watching the boy’s every move, smirks before throwing the black duffel bag on top of his shoulder. “He probably knew what a piece of shit Aoki was,” Jiro reasons with himself, as he starts running towards the exit to meet his friends at their predetermined rendezvous.

Junko’s eyes widen as she finally remembers where the name ‘Aoki’ fits into her memory. Pulling her gaze back to the blonde man before her, Junko’s lips part in disbelief from one another. “Daisuke Aoki…” She whispers, voicing her recollection. The words make a soft smile appear on the man’s face, and he nods gently at her response.

“Daisuke Aoki, indeed,” The man begins, straightening his back, and turning his gaze away from the girl on the floor below him, “He’s… he’s my father, Junko.” Junko’s eyes widen, and the hand on Jiro’s shoulder tightens in her grasp - clenching her best friend’s shoulder in dread.

“My name is Daku Aoki, and I am the Captain of the Special Operations Task Force of the Tokyo Prefectural Police Department.” Unable to comprehend the information, Junko interjects with her own questions.

“You’re Daisuke Aoki’s son? But… what? How, I-”
“Don’t you remember any tell-tale sign of how to identify my father? Anything at all?”

Junko’s mind reconvenes as she attempts to remember anything from that mission. Anything Yuuto told her about Daisuke’s appearance that clearly gave way to his identity.

“Two small beauty marks positioned at the top of the target's forehead are confirmation of his identity.”

At the recollection, her eyes snap to Daku’s forehead, and her gaze lands upon two small beauty marks, positioned at the top of his forehead. His gelled-back hair makes the two spots easily visible to onlookers, something he most likely did out of purpose. Daku takes notice of her remembrance, and inwardly smiles at her saddened stare.

Jiro swallows a dry lump forming in his throat, and his hands fidget in his lap as he watches Daku intently. “For six years, I’ve been a part of this division, and for three of those six years, I have led my team in pursuit of Case 202,” He states, continuing his story.

“Daitan Hagimoto - whom you seem to be familiar with - was recently promoted to lead Case 202, and I was deferred to another assignment. One that regarded the arrest of the newly instated Tokyo Pistols, and finding one certain white-haired college girl.”

Daku pulls his eyes back to Junko, and a seemingly faint, apologetic expression fades onto his features. “The Tokyo Pistols were after someone that fit your exact description, and it was my job to locate you, protect you, and find out why they were after you,” Daku explains, using his hands to speak subconsciously, “I used the name ‘Kei Okazaki’ to protect my identity, which is why you know me formally as such.”

Daku breathes a silent breath through his nostrils as he continues retelling his story, “When I caught you killing that man in that alley, I realized that you were the person I was searching for. But, I couldn’t believe that this day-dreaming, flower-loving college student was a murderer part time.”

Junko’s lips quiver at his words, and she feels her heart flooding with immense sadness, frustration, and confusion all at once. “And… even though I’m a police officer, and I witnessed you killing another citizen, I… I wanted to set you free. I wanted you to leave, and set out for a new life on the other side of this country,” Daku says, his face conveying true, genuine hope for the girl.

Daku’s eyes squint in frustration, and his face tenses. “You told me everything,” He continues, his voice growing low and serious, “You told me you didn’t want to do this, and how you were forced into this life. You had no idea of the reality of the Task Force, and it killed me inside to see what your father had put you through.”

Junko’s hands tremble as she listens to Daku, and her eyes train onto his own meaningful ones. She could not believe, from the bottom of her heart, that she was the one to issue the command to kill this man’s father.

“My team and I… we eventually pieced everything together, and figured out you were the daughter to Mamoru Fukumoto,” Daku admits, throwing his eyes onto the pathetic man for a split second, “With this information, we realized we could knock two birds with one stone: Case 202, and the new Tokyo Pistols.”

“You keep saying Case 202 this and Case 202 that,” Jiro comments, interjecting in Daku's story, “What the hell is Case 202?!” Daku’s eyes flash to Jiro’s and his eyes harden for a split second.

“Case 202 is the search and execution of Mamoru Fukumoto, which has been in place at the Tokyo Police Department for sixteen years,” Daku responds, his tone bitter at the mention of the pitiable man. Junko and Jiro’s eyes widen simultaneously, and their gazes drift to the slouched man in the wooden chair a ways deeper into the room before them.

Suddenly, a loud beep sounds from the living room, and Daku’s head snaps to the noise. Walking over to the technology set up in the living room, his eyes roam the smaller screen on the camcorder set up next to the television display. Flicking his head back to the individuals behind him, Daku smiles as his glare lands on Mamoru. “Looks like they are ready for our feedback,” He says, clicking a button on the camera in front of him.

At the press, Yuuto and Kagome’s eyes suddenly face the screen, and their eyes widen on the display. “Junko? Jiro?” Kagome asks, her voice filled with confusion and fear, “What’s going on? Are you guys okay?!”

“Is that Mamoru? And… Daku Aoki?!” Yuuto questions, immediately recognizing the blonde man in frame. Daku smirks into the camera at Yuuto’s quick wit, and crosses his arms in a challenging stance. “You got that pretty quick, Yuuto Matsuo,” Daku commends, his smirk unwavering, “But can you tell me if you recognize my sister?”

Daku waves for the blonde woman once again, and she reappears from the far hallway in the apartment. Her long, blonde hair is swept away from her face by a thick headband, and two of the same birthmarks sit on her face. However, instead of the top of her forehead - like her brother and father - her’s are placed just at the outer crevice of her left eye. She steps into the view of the camera, and Yuuto’s eyes latch onto the new individual.

For a moment, nothing seems to click at her first appearance. Then, a clear recollection washes over his face as his eyes widen along with his lips. “Akira Aoki? I-I thought you… I thought you died… all those years ago,” Yuuto says, his voice light and breathy.

Daku’s sister, Akira, smirks into the camera, and flashes her eyes to the screen to look at Yuuto in his stupefied glory. “You really thought you were the only one to make it out alive from that dingy old arcade?” Akira asks, full of herself, “Get over yourself. As if I’d let myself die in such a gross, disgusting building.”

“Yuuto, who are they?” Kagome asks from the television screen, her confused eyes landing upon the boy next to her. Yuuto snaps his own gaze to Kagome, and begins explaining, “A while back, we had a mission to execute Daisuke Aoki, do you remember that?” Yuuto asks the girl, as his eyebrows raise in question.

Kagome nods, beckoning him to continue. “Daku Aoki is his son, and that girl is his daughter. She was also a part of that hacking society I was in during college. I thought she died…along with everyone else.” Kagome’s eyes drift from Yuuto’s, and snap to Akira’s own confident glare.

“Akira has been a crucial part in helping me find individuals that match Junko’s description, and she led me to you,” Daku says, explaining his sister’s role in the operation, “Not only that, but she found Mamoru’s apartment all by herself, as well as other substantial information no one else in my department could manage.”

From the foyer, Jiro remains on the floor, with an equally confused Junko right by his side. Despite listening intently to all of the new information, his heart is unable to handle it all at once. His mind, overflowing with a surplus of different emotions, has fogged over in a cloud of anger, frustration, and sadness.

His hands tremble in his lap, and he brings them to his face. Though Daku and Akira continue explaining how they found Mamoru’s apartment, everyone’s names in the Task Force, and other information of the like, Jiro zones out completely in his rooted spot on the floor. Who can he trust, from this point forward? His entire life, nothing he has ever been told was the truth. Where was he to go after tonight? To jail? To his execution?

Jiro’s fingers scrape the sides of his face as his grip tightens on his cheeks. The sound of his own heart beating violently against his chest echoes in his ringing ear drums. Who even was he, if not a police officer? Why was he alive, if not to avenge his father? Where is he to go, with no place to call home?

With no foreseeable option left, Jiro whips his hand to the back of Junko’s waistband, and yanks out one of her pistols she had stuffed away from the parking garage. Junko’s eyes snap to her best friend, and a shocked expression washes over her face. From her right, Jiro cocks the gun, and aims it at Mamoru in front of him.

“Jiro!” Junko exclaims, her eyes wide at the boy before her. The sudden yell makes Daku and Akira turn around, and they notice the scene in the space behind them. Daku’s eyes peel open as his jaw drops in fear. “Jiro, put the gun down!” He yells in command, “Don’t do it, Jiro!”

Jiro bares his teeth, and his hands tremble as he holds the weapon in his grasp. “You tell me, Mamoru,” Jiro spits at Junko’s father, as tears begin forming in his eyes, “What am I supposed to do now?! Now that you’ve ruined my entire fucking life, along with everyone else that you’ve ever met?!”

Mamoru’s exhausted, humiliated eyes tiredly land on Jiro’s manic ones, and he holds his gaze for a moment. Not a single shred of empathy, nor a hint of fear could be found hiding in his expression.

“Nothing,” Mamoru says bluntly, his raspy voice breathing out in a whisper, “This fucking shit traps you in, from the very first moment you get involved. Junko and Niko were doomed the day I was awarded custody. And you, Jiro… you’ve been doomed since the day you met me.”

Jiro’s lips curl inwards as he suppresses a sob aching to lurch out of his throat. “I’m a terrible, disgusting man, Jiro,” Mamoru continues, sounding sick of his own self.

“But I’ve come to terms with that. I know, and I have known, that the only way out of life is through death. You can’t escape it. You can run, and you can pretend it never happened. But it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. And then, this guy will find you. He’ll find you, and he’ll kill you with his bare hands, because you killed his Dad.”

“Enough, Mamoru!” Daku shouts, returning back to the individuals in the foyer, “I was given the choice of whether or not to execute the members of this Task Force, not you! And I have no intention of-”

Suddenly, the pistol in Jiro’s hands shoots off a bullet, and it flies past Mamoru’s head and into the window behind him - forming a crack in the glass. After a silent moment passes, Jiro begins unleashing the rest of the seven remaining bullets in the chamber, one by one, growling out a frustrated yell with each bullet.

“Jiro, stop it!”

The second one powers past Daku, and hits the television screen behind him and Akira. The third bullet drives into a family portrait of Mamoru, Chie, and a young Junko and Niko in the kitchen.

“Please, put the gun down!”

A fourth bullet shatters a vase of burgundy black Dahlia flowers in the living room, nearly grazing Akira’s leg. Two more penetrate the ceiling, while the last two puncture the hardwood floors by Mamoru’s unflinching feet.

“Jiro!”