Real Room

That girl, Hasegawa Rina, came back. She didn’t say much, just tossed me a phone. The phone case was a mint-toned mosaic of cartoon frogs with different expressions. The screen was cracked in two places. It had been unlocked and opened to a video. I deliberated, and pressed play. 

I didn't blink. 

I covered my mouth as the nausea-inducing footage finished. My legs felt weak. Tightness in my gut followed. I spoke to Hasegawa for a bit about Kishimoto Junko, but my mind felt too hazy to reach any conclusions. Before she left, I warned Hasegawa that I’d told Junko about her. She swore a lot. Like, more words and with greater variety than I’d ever heard a girl swear. I didn’t even know the meaning to some of the slang she slung.

But, back to Junko. To be clear, she didn’t fight rogue Americans? She…harvested organs? Specifically from shut-ins? That didn’t make sense to me. Why didn’t she harvest my organs? I wanted to believe she loved me, but my long-standing self-doubt told me that wasn’t correct. Was I special? Again, unlikely. There must’ve been other criteria.

For a brief moment—a couple seconds, at most—I considered not caring. Literally, straight up apathy. It’d make life a lot easier. So what if she harvested organs from shut-ins? Were they using them? Like, really using them? With a bit more mental pressure, I could unlock the full realm of apathy, and then my life would revert to lifting, eating, and having sex with Junko.

Whether because I had become mentally weak or strong, I couldn’t push through that last part of the mental gymnastics routine. Instead, I defaulted to what I did when sad or confused: I trained.

Warm-up. Then a compound movement. Squats. Good. Up the weight. Sets of three repetitions. One-hundred kilos. Nice and easy. After a few sets, I should’ve entered what I’d heard termed the “white zone”, a mental state of focus and clarity where you didn’t think about anything but the present moment, the task at hand. I’d felt it before.

But I didn’t feel it.

Imagine a white balloon floating down a gentle stream. That’s the white zone. Now imagine a bunch of crows swooping down to pierce the balloon. That was my white zone getting interrupted by Hasegawa’s video. The footage had seared into my brain. I couldn’t stop thinking about one moment in particular, near the end: Junko started to smirk when the shut-in’s heart slid out. It pulsed with a couple more heartbeats, before they packed it into a foam-lined cardboard box.

Forget the training. If that didn’t help, what could I do? I wasn’t tired enough for sleep. There was no option but to wait for Junko’s return.

#

When next Junko came through the door, all my determination evaporated. I kept quiet, listening her talk about her day. She noticed. ‘Are you annoyed I haven’t visited in a while?’ she teased, tapping my cheek. ‘Silent treatment?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ I replied.

‘What’s wrong? I could bring something sweet next time. I saw a new dessert shop near my house. Do you like red bean?’ When I didn’t answer, she pressed herself closer. ‘Or do you want to taste…a different sweet?’

‘What’s happening with the Americans?’ I asked, as Junko removed her top.

‘Why?’

‘Are we close to defeating them?’

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s going well.’

I bit my lip. Say it, I thought. ‘I saw you.’

‘In your dreams?’ she giggled.

‘On a video.’

The corners of her lips twitched, so her smile looked like a light switch flipping on and off. ‘What kind of video?’

‘You were using your powers. I need to ask you. Properly. Are you using your powers to…’ The words didn’t come out.

‘Listen, Kenji, whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. You know how easy it is to forge footage? The tech moves so fast. Since you’ve been in the pocket dimension, they’ve already developed new cloth simulations. Super realistic, like—’

‘You pulled a guy’s organs out of his body.’

Junko’s smile held, but her eyes emptied, like draining a pool. She cocked her head. ‘I’m telling you, it’s fake.’ She removed her bra and lifted my hands to cup her breasts. ‘I’ve been thinking you could try putting it in my—’

‘No.’ I pulled away. Last time was nice in the moment, but I felt sad afterward. That “after” feeling made me want to do it again, not because I loved it but because I didn’t want to feel whatever I felt afterward. ‘Tell me the truth, or…’

‘Or what?’

‘I-I’ll stop working the Fulcrum.’

Junko’s expression warped. If the pool had been drained, now it filled with flaming oil. She adjusted her stance, and swung. Her fist connected with my jaw. I tottered sidelong, until a fist connected with my stomach. I doubled-over, struggling for breath as pain bloomed across the lower half of my face.

Junko hinged at the hips, our eyes level. ‘Please, say that again. Did I hear that right? Something about the Fulcrum?’

I coughed and couldn’t respond.

‘I’m listening,’ she said.

‘I’ll do it,’ I wheezed.

‘You’ll do what?’

‘I’ll keep working the Fulcrum.’

Junko stroked my cheek. ‘Good boy.’ She went to the door. ‘It's that girl's fault, isn't it? You won’t see me much, and you’ll never see her again. Continue to use the Fulcrum when needed, or I swear to every imaginary god, I’ll have this apartment terminated.’

I heard but didn’t see the door close. I slumped to the ground, struggling to intake breath. 

Terminated? 

Aside from my shallow breaths, silence befell the apartment. Why bother calling it that? It was an apartment like a dingy is a cruise ship. I’d screwed up. No shit, right? Not only had I helped a psycho like Junko, I’d let everything happen until it was too late to revert. Stuck in a cell with a void outside, left to manual labour. I’d placed all my trust and faith and loyalty and love and adoration in Junko, but I’d never stopped to ask why? Because she was pretty and paid attention to me and said I was special?

I was selfish. I was still being selfish. While being stressed about my own situation, I hadn’t spared a thought for Hasegawa Rina. I assumed Junko meant her, when she said I’d never see that girl again. I’d told Junko about Hasegawa. If Hasegawa lost all her organs, that’d be on me. Her ghost might seep into the void, and then I’d be stuck with a vengeful spirit, too.

I had to do something. Sure, what? I opened the door and faced the void. No, I thought. If I went out there, at best I’d die. At worst, I’d be adrift for eternity. Neither helped Rina.

That’s when I heard something. I’d never heard anything from the void. It sounded like…screaming? Distant, almost inaudible. I craned my head and pinpointed the sound. There, way out in the void, a familiar figure floated.