Lieutenant

“Junko,” Jiro stated affirmatively, “You’ll do this with me, right? We’ll do this together, all the way ‘till the end - when Takashi is avenged and Tokyo is safe again?”

Junko stared into the teary, yet passionate eyes of her best friend. As she looked deep into his eyes - them begging her to say yes, and to take his hand - she could not find the courage within herself to say no. Despite her own separate and personal dreams conflicting with this new goal, Junko could not bring herself to decline.

Through all of her internal hesitation, Junko managed to force a nod, and agree to Mamoru and Jiro’s wishes. At the sentiment, a thankful and content smile came over Jiro’s previously worried face. He pulled his best friend into a hug as Mamoru watched the two teenagers. “You’re doing the right thing, Junko,” He stated, “You’ll become a strong leader, and you’ll save millions of lives everyday. You’re doing the right thing.”

You’re doing the right thing.
You’re doing the right thing.
You’re doing the right thing.

“The right thing, my ass,” Junko spits as her mind relays an old memory, silent tears painting her cheeks relentlessly, “Who was I doing right by, huh?! It certainly wasn’t myself. It wasn’t the greater city of Tokyo. It was you, Dad. Forcing me to join the Task Force was all a part of your grand scheme, and I fell for it. Now look at what you’ve done.”

Mamoru’s head slowly rises from its hanging position, and his vein-scattered eyes meet Junko’s pale blue irises. “If I said all that, you wouldn’t have listened, now would you?” Mamoru asks sarcastically, his voice monotone and low. His retort makes Junko’s jaw clench, and her enraged glare continues to stab her father with a growing ferocity.

“How much more?!” Junko yells in question, her chest booming with anger, “How much more of my officers’ blood do you need to see until you apologize?! You’re sick! You’re a sick, sick man, Mamoru! Your own son just died, and you can’t even fake an expression of misery?!”

Mamoru’s teeth bare at his daughter’s opinion being shoved down his throat. Gripping his fingers within his clutch, Mamoru’s wrists rub the rope against the wooden armrest, gradually gnawing away at the twine.

“Do you think I wanted it to be this way, Junko?!” His voice booms throughout the apartment, and his deep, domineering tone causes his daughter to flinch backwards in a sudden surprise. His hands continue to thrash to and fro, slicing the twine from its loosening hold on his wrists.

“Life isn’t fair! People make mistakes, but fixing those mistakes always comes with a price, and there wasn’t a price I was willing to pay to repent for my sins. I was selfish, I continued the cycle, and I dragged you down with me. But there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it now, Junko! We have to accept the consequences, and embrace our crimes!”

“That’s all you’re gonna do?!” Junko exclaims back at her father, taking a step forward in challenge, “You’re just gonna sit back, and let karma take its toll on you? Letting it strike everyone else you’ve dragged along, before it finally reaches you?! Ren, Niko, and now Yuuto have all been sacrificed in your name, and all you have to say is that they deserved it?!”

“Nobody deserves to live the life we do,” Mamoru rebukes, his voice low and throaty as the rope nearly falls from his wrists. Junko’s eyes seethe at the pathetic sight of her father, who sits in his own pile of fury.

“But once you enter this life, there’s no escape. The only real way out… is through death. Death breaks the chain that shackles you to life, and it awaits anyone and everyone who dares walk this god-forsaken planet. We are some of the unfortunate souls who are destined to die years before the stars desired us to. The only thing to do is accept this, and wait for the sweet release of death to set you free.”

One rope falls to the floor, and Mamoru continues shredding the remaining restrained wrist. “Don’t you think… as your father… that I wanted to see you succeed?” Junko’s father asks, his voice breaking at the sincerity, “I would have loved to watch you grow up into the botanist you dream to be. But there’s no future for people like us, Junko. The only thing our future holds is our inevitable, early death.”

Junko’s mind feels the pulsating veins and arteries tense around her brain, and her eyes gloss over in a cold, teary sweat. Is that all she was destined for since birth was to live, kill, and die so mercilessly? Is that all she meant to the universe - all that she’s worth? Junko’s bottom lip quivers under the dense sadness weighing on her entire body.

“Mamoru… shut the hell up, you bastard,” Daku barks from the living room, as he begins his trek over to the despondent individuals in the foyer, “You’re the only life not worth saving. Nobody needs your sick, twisted mind anymore. Don’t go pushing your meaningless ideas and thoughts onto Junko. She wasn’t the ringleader behind all this. It was all you.”

For a moment, the room is silent. The vacancy in the air allows them all to bask in the weight of the reality they live in. The sour reality they are forced to live in. Then, Mamoru’s patronizing, sinister laugh breaks the looming silence. His sight snaps to Junko, and his eyes shine from the bright city lights illuminating his silhouette.

“Don’t you think I know that, you asshole?!” Mamoru bellows through his manic fit of laughter. His other wrist is freed from the rope, and the fraying twine falls to the floor beneath him. With this newfound movement, Mamoru slams his fists down on the armrests, and strains his eyes at Daku.

“You don’t understand! Nobody ever fucking understands! There’s no way out! I’ve tried! I tried, I tried, I tried! You people always come back, and you come for my head on a silver platter! Once you get mine, you’ll go for my daughter, then whoever’s left of that stupid group! The only way out is to die, don’t you get it?! Just kill me already, and kill them too! Do it! Get it over with!”

With a deep, low growl tracing the core of his words, Mamoru challenges the officer with a menacing glare. Daku matches this stare, and parts his lips to spit a harsh rebuttal at Mamoru’s piteous words. “You just wanna die so bad, don’t you?” Junk interrupts, bringing the attention of the room back to her.

“Such a coward. Such a spineless, humiliating man. To think I looked up to you all these years, when this shell of a person is all there is to you. God… I hate you so much, Dad. How could you do this to me? To Niko? To… Mom?” Junko’s voice begins to break in despair, but her face conveys a raw fury as her face draws together. Her eyes squint in disbelief, and her jaw clenches in seething anger.

In an instant, Junko reaches into her back pocket, and whips out a small, sharp pocket knife that catches a glint from the overhead light fixture. Swishing it out to an exposed position, Junko stares down her father before her, while Mamoru’s own eyes soften into a curious, neutral gaze.

“I’ll grant that death wish right now, Dad,” Junko says, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “You wanna get this over with, then fine! I’ll do it myself!” Daku’s eyes go wide in fear at Junko’s declaration, and he quickly inserts himself into the interaction.

“Let’s not be too hasty, here!” Daku’s voice interjects worriedly, as he positions himself between Junko and Mamoru, “Put the knife away, Junko. There are still some misunderstandings-”

“Do it, Junko,” Mamoru pleads, the bottoms of his eyes squinting upwards, “Kill me. Free me. After all this time… running and hiding… place my gravestone here!” Mamoru’s fingers wrap around the armrest as he bends forward, beckoning his daughter to kill him on the spot. The pathetic display aggravates Junko, and she clutches the pocket knife together within her grip.

“Junko!” Daku shouts, raising his hands in a defensive position, don’t listen to him! We just need to talk this out… There’s been too much blood spilt tonight, I don’t want any more casualties on my hands. Please, put the knife down.”

As Junko lethally stares down the officer a ways ahead of her, she suddenly feels a clammy sensation on her bare, short-clad leg. Looking down to the touch, she sees Jiro’s limp hand loosely grip her calf - and his eyes stare up at her own, as a genuine feeling of concern and overwhelming sadness swim within his gaze.

“What are you doing, Junko?” Jiro’s wet, throaty voice gasps out in question, “Are you okay? Do you… Do you know what you’re doing?” Junko’s eyes train to her best friend, and - after a moment - a warm, thankful smile washes over her once tense expression. Nodding once, Junko blinks one slow, heavy blink.

“I never really know what I’m doing,” Junko responds, her voice just above a whisper, and it cracks under pressure, “But, I’ll be right back. Wait here for me, okay?” Jiro’s lips pull inwards, and his cold, sweaty hand falls from its spot on Junko’s leg. Throwing one last grin, Junko turns her attention back to the men in front of her.

Junko squints her eyes, and she can feel her heart rate accelerate at the mere sight of her own treacherous father. “You really made me think like I was… some kind of superhero,” She begins, her voice distasteful and irritated, “Saving the people of Tokyo… keeping them safe without them even knowing it was us protecting them the whole time. Like… a hero in disguise.”

Feeling the weight of the pocket knife situated in her tight clutch, Junko straightens her back, and brings her eyes to the knife in her possession. “Junko…” Daku warns, his voice slightly shaking with uncertainty. At his words, Junko snaps her sinister glare up, and her eyes latch onto Daku’s own petrified expression.

Then, in an instant, Junko takes off in a sprint towards the men in front of her. Instinctively, Daku pulls out his pistol from his holster. He aims it directly at Junko’s quickly approaching figure. A terrified look of pure fear takes over his features, and his eyes lock onto Junko’s own determined scowl.

“How is it so easy for you? How can you just… grab the gun and-and start… shooting like that?!”

“It took me years to be able to look someone dead in the eye, and shoot them with full intent in harming them. And you… you guys do it without even thinking!”

“Put down the knife, Junko!” Daku starts yelling, his hands shaking as he aims his weapon at the fast approaching woman before him, “Don’t make me shoot! Junko, please don’t make me shoot!” His voice bleeds as he begs and pleads to Junko.

Suddenly, Junko raises the knife over her head, and a determined glint sparks in her eye as she locks her eyes with Daku’s. “Junko, I swear to God!” He yells once more, his trembling fingers hover over the trigger, “I don’t want to shoot you! Just put down the-”

The knife once in Junko’s grip now soars through the thick air, and blazes towards Daku. Out of reflex, Daku steps to the side, to avoid the flying blade. Dodging just in time, the knife grazes Daku’s blonde hair and slices the ends of a few strands sitting by his ear. Following his own momentum, Daku winds up clearing the path for Junko to travel towards her father. With a clear view, Junko’s eyes lock in as they set upon Mamoru.

‘I want him to die at the hands of the monster he created,’ Junko thinks menacingly to herself.

The knife continues to fly, and ends up striking the glass window directly behind Junko’s father. From the previous bullet hole, and now the sharp blade piercing the weakened glass, an immense crack in the window shatters along the pane and runs across the surface of the translucent wall.

Jiro’s eyebrows scrunch together, confused by Junko’s method. Despite the situation, Junko never falters, as she quickly approaches Mamoru. As he now sits within reach, Junko reaches towards the armrests of the wooden chair. With a deep, roaring grunt, Junko hoists the chair and her father into the air.

Piecing everything together, Jiro’s eyes rip open, and his jaw drops in fear. “Junko!” He screams, placing his hands on the floor in front of him, and stumbling to his feet in a standing position, “Don’t do it! Stop!”

Junko heaves another growl of effort, and she pushes the occupied chair through the withering window in front of her. With her strength, the legs of the chair pierce the shattered glass, and the rest of the window instantly erodes at the touch. With one last push, Junko throws her father out of the window - firmly planting her feet within the safety of the building. Her fingers leave the fierce clutch she once held, and she feels her father’s body slip from her fingertips.

With her eyes still dead set upon Mamoru’s, she doesn’t notice his own hands reach out, and latch onto her forearms as he plunges from the tower.