A Cougar's Lair

The elevator doors sealed shut, locking me inside a cramped but pleasant scented compartment. Several posters around us advertised local businesses and one appeared to showcase Kinakaniya—a competing chain of bookstores—whose poster showed an old lady perusing a colorful bookshelf. Young, smiling booksellers around her were helping to find exactly what she searched for.

We could grow bigger too, but Kamikawa doesn't want us becoming too corporate. That, or maybe he doesn't wanna spend money on advertising, haha.

"Smoosh, smoosh. Push, push. Smooshpushsmooshpushsmooshpush . . . "Asagiri in her red jacket was jabbing the 10th floor button she'd pressed earlier. "Smoooooooshie—"

"Please don't kill us," I said as I checked my phone. It was just past 9PM, and Kikuchi should've returned home from work by now. We were heading up to her apartment to fulfill the favor she'd ordered: visiting her home in exchange for promising secrecy about Asagiri's existence. Through sheer coincidence, we'd encountered Kikuchi at our local aquarium, and now one of my coworkers was aware I'd harbored a government-issued girlfriend. For better or worse, my placebo dignity was still somewhat worth protecting.

"Booooooo," Asagiri whined and ceased button smooshing. "Nothing else to do."

"We'll be there right now."

"It's past my bedtime."

"You go to sleep later than me."

"Skill issue."

The elevator halted and a bing sound rang aloud. Twin doors slid open to reveal a small hallway of vending machines accompanied by cold breezes. Asagiri rushed out like a hyperenergetic child.

"Oh, look at these, Nishikata." She waltzed to one of the vending machines and pointed to a chocolate bar. "Buy me one and maybe I'll share."

"Only if there's caramel inside them," I chuckled.

Her face cutely puffed up. "No fair. You know caramel gives me the runs."

"Thank Sakura for that." I waved for Asagiri to follow me towards an open-air walkway. Apartment rooms on our right were numbered through double digits; specifically, we were searching for apartment 109. Asagiri scampered ahead checking every number plate by the doors.

Well, at least she's helping out for once. After feeling another cold breeze, I tucked my hands into my jacket and looked out west: a dark, infinite sky filled with dim stars overlooked a vibrant, city skyline glittering with lights. Several skyscrapers lined a distant horizon while small businesses right below me signaled life even at night.

I peered towards the quiet street with a few passing cars beneath me. Then, a dizziness suddenly took over, and the street appeared to be replaced with tranquil water. My surroundings morphed into a long, towering bridge—the same bridge that almost ended me—and I gazed into dark depths that slowly pulled me in.

"Nishikata?" A female voice behind me said. Her tug on my brown sleeve broke the trance.

Without thinking, I turned to face her. "Norik—"

Asagiri looked at me with confused then hurt eyes. She let go of my sleeve and pretended she didn't hear anything. "I found the apartment."

"O-Oh yeah? Good job!"

"It's over here . . ." She sauntered down the walkway without another word.

Ahhh man! I'm a dumbass! Noriko's gradual return into my life had helped reignite old PTSD symptoms I thought I'd conquered already. But what we endured on that bridge, what I forced her through, what she probably ghosted me for for almost a decade—was not something I'd easily forget.

I joined Asagiri in front of a door with "109" labeled by the side. Awkwardness befell us as I contemplated words to break the silence.

"Uhhh, wanna ring the bell? Another button to smoosh," I said.

Asagiri sighed and gave the bell the most dispirited push possible. A bing-bing sound rang within the apartment and tiny footsteps were heard rushing over.

Soon, the door swung open to reveal the cheerful face of a little boy.

"Oh! Miss Asagiri! And her friend!" Hiroomi said. He was wearing dinosaur pajamas, and his wet, brown hair appeared fresh from the shower.

"Hey there little man," I replied with a smile. "Is your mom home?"

He scampered half-way down the apartment hallway and yelled towards the kitchen. "Mommy! Future daddy and his concubine are here!"

Asagiri's face went beet red from embarrassment. Her lips stammered about as she struggled to defend herself.

"H-Huh? I'm not N-N-Nishikata's concu—"

"Hiroomi!" Kikuchi's voice down the hall rang. "Who taught you that word?"

"You did, mommy." He ventured around the nearby corner. "You said all ladies except you are concubines."

"Crazy talk!" A woman's footsteps approached from around the hallway's corner. Soon, Kikuchi's green head peeked out inside. "Sorry about him! But you two make yourselves at home! I was just making dinner!"

Ehhh? This vibes more like a trap every second! I looked to Asagiri on my left who seemed to have shrugged off Hiroomi's comment. With a tired expression, she waltzed into the apartment and proceeded to take off her shoes. I followed suit, and together we descended into a cougar's modern lair.

*

"Thanks again for the meal, Kikuchi. Never thought you'd be a good cook." I plopped down beside Asagiri onto a black, leather couch. The small but quaint living room around us was decorated with various hand-crafted plushies: a pink, top-hatted elephant sitting on the nearby coffee table, two toucans wearing sunglasses perched along Kikuchi's TV, several purple monkeys peeking out from the distant bookshelf—it was almost like a zoo for adorable stuffed animals. Chidori would be right at home here.

"Alright, Hiroomi is tucked into bed." Kikuchi said as she emerged from the hallway. She walked into the kitchen and removed her white apron before hanging it up.

"Wild little guy, huh?" I chuckled. "Guess he gets it from his mom."

"Maybe I just spoil him a little too much, haha." Kikuchi sat on an adjacent, smaller couch next to us. She turned on the TV and flipped to some random news station for background noise. "It's part of the reason I can't really go to work parties often. Gotta come straight home and be with my little savior."

Savior? "Well, it's fine. The parties are mostly just Mogami or Summers eating out all the food anyway, haha."

"Better hurry and hook up with her before—oops, sorry Asagiri. Forgot you're still his girlfriend."

Asagiri sighed. "It's fine. I already said he's free to flirt. In fact, why don't you hook up with him? Adopt a sad, scaredy virgin." She sounded a bit annoyed.

"Ummm, can we not talk about me like I'm some chicken?"

"At least chickens get laid as eggs."

The urge to pinch her cheeks for badmouthing me in front of coworkers was overwhelming, but then I remembered her contract's first stipulation:

'Unless consent is explicitly given, you are not permitted any physical contact with the government-issued girlfriend.'

I'd held hands before with her several times, and even shared an indirect kiss, but I wasn't about to risk invoking the wrath of her Kill Switch. Maybe at least cops with guns would put me out of my misery . . .

Kikuchi was fumbling in her seat. She seemed to be thinking of something to break the tension. "H-Honestly, Nishikata will always reject me, so that's why I like teasing him. It's no fun if a guy is too easy."

"Don't know what you even see in him," Asagiri pouted. Her arms were crossed and she was looking away from us.

"I'm funny sometimes, aren't I?"

"About as funny as dead memes."

"But you love those."

"Fake news." She stuck her tongue out at me. "One does not simply admit guilt."

We must appear like a comedy skit right now. "Anyways . . ." I looked towards Kikuchi. "You said you wanted to hold off talking cosplay until after dinner?"

"Oh, right!" She laid her teacup on the coffee table. "Well there's good news and bad news about that."

"Hmm?"

Kikuchi reached into her brown cardigan and pulled out her cellphone. She took a few moments to scroll and read something. "Yeah, sorry. I can get your measurements today, but it'll take me at least a month to finish up your cosplays—so into the new year probably . . ."

I could tell she seemed distraught. "N-No worries! You're probably super busy! Have clients that take priority! You run a side job making dresses and stuff, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Dresses, skirts, scarfs, things like that. A lot of the clothes I wear I made myself."

"Oh!" Asagiri on my side gazed with starry eyes towards Kikuchi. "That's super impressive! Are you self taught?"

"Mhmmm! Started in high school, but it was for a lame reason."

"Now you gotta tell us!" Asagiri was unusually enthusiastic.

Kikuchi removed her glasses and exhaled into them. She cleaned them as she spoke. "I had a huge crush on my husband back then. He was top of his class, top of the athletic charts, and top of most girl's lists of cute boys. Meanwhile, I was just a nerdy girl who sort of knew how to use her hands."

Husband? I gave Asagiri a quick, harsh glance and she seemed to understand the message. Her demeanor calmed down and she sunk back into her seat.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna," I told Kikuchi. "It's probably still tough."

She finished cleaning her glasses and slipped them back on. For just a moment, I saw a flash of a pained expression.

"No, it's fine," she replied. "It's probably time I opened up anyway. Would you mind hearing a widow's story?"

"Oh, uh, yeah shoot. We're great listeners, right?" I sent my girlfriend another blank stare. She sunk further into her seat.

"Thanks. I've been wanting to get stuff off my chest." Kikuchi was nervous and having a hard time making eye contact. "Even Kamikawa and the others don't really know much."

I had no problem consoling her, but I still felt like her history would be hard to talk about. "As long as you're feeling up for it."

She nodded again, and looked down at her lap. "It's just—I think it's been long enough already. Maybe venting a little will help me move on."

Venting? "Oh? About what?"

Kikuchi appeared to ignore me and continued where she earlier left off. "It was hard getting his attention, since girls were practically throwing themselves at him, but I managed to somehow catch his eye with a crummy little plushie I made. Chocolate and love letters weren't really my thing, so I just wanted to show off something not many other girls could do."

"What kind of plushie was it?" Asagiri on my side said.

A small smile spread across Kikuchi's lips. She pointed her thumb behind her into the apartment hall. "It's in his altar in my room, but it was a baby penguin."

"Penguin?" I said. Catching Kikuchi in the penguin exhibit the other day suddenly made sense. In fact, she'd always seemed to have an affinity for animals in general. From the cute animal pins and patches she always wore at work, to her whole apartment being littered with adorable plushies.

"Yeah. I sucked at making stuff back then," she said, "but when I offered him this weird penguin for Valentines that could barely stand upright, he smiled and asked me how I made it. And we started from there."

I wasn't sure how to respond, unsure of when the story would take a darker turn. But it was just another bridge I had to cross. "What was he like?"

One of Kikuchi's hands started quivering. She tucked it beneath her arm to hide it. "Haruka was nice—the nicest person in the world. He loved animals just as much as me, and when we started dating, we'd always visit places like zoos or aquariums. I was the happiest girl alive back then, even when he said he wanted to go to a college I had no shot of getting into."

"Did you two break up for a while?" Asagiri said. I sent her another icy stare.

Kikuchi shook her head. "It just became a long distance thing. He wanted a good job so we could move in together someday. So I just passed the time by working part-time jobs and getting better at sewing and cooking. I kinda liked the idea of being a housewife to be honest, haha."

"Cool," I said, looking around. "Did you two move in here when you were ready then?"

"No. This is—this was after he was gone. We had another apartment a town over when we got married, where we tried for basically years to have a baby. So when I finally did get pregnant, it felt like a literal miracle. I thought everything would be perfect from there."

"What happened?" I earnestly replied.

A quick sniffle and she rubbed her nose with the top of her hand. "About seven years ago, around when I'd just gotten pregnant, I noticed he started acting strange. Haruka became obsessed with being on the computer all day, sometimes even skipping work for it. I didn't wanna seem nosy but one day I asked him what was going on."

Asagiri's eyes honed in, like she was suddenly very interested in the conversation.

I got a bad feeling where this is headed . . . "Wasn't anything weird or something, right?"

"If it was just porn or him flirting with other women—I would have preferred that, we could work things out still, but it ended up being even worse." She brought her quivering hands together to help calm them.

"What was he looking up then?" Asagiri said. Her eyes were sharp, exigent, and devoid of empathy. My girlfriend's voice had an almost threateningly shrill tone to it.

Kikuchi sniffled again. "He started talking nonsense—nonsense about the beauty of death or something. Apparently he was chatting with others about it on some forum, and that's where he started getting brainwashed."

'Spreading the beauty of death across the country, and eventually the world, is our long-term goal.' Noriko's words echoed in my head as a cold shiver crawled down my spine.

"DeLightfuls," Asagiri muttered. She seemed to be connecting the dots in her head, and finally started shivering herself.

"Yeah," Kikuchi replied. "After I found out, he tried indoctrinating me into their ideology, but I was clear that I wanted neither of us following that crap. I saw the bad writing on the wall, the future cult in the making, and I didn't want our family being associated with it." She rubbed her belly like a pregnant woman would.

My mind was still having difficulty processing her revelations. This whole time, I'd been working alongside somebody else devastated by DeLightfuls. A woman who I'd pinned as nothing more than a deviant predator was another victim just like me—except the circumstances surrounding her suffering were likely infinitely worse than mine.

"I want to blame myself, I really do," Kikuchi continued. "He was taking so much extra overtime at work, and I just let him because he insisted on it. But I should've seen how tired he was, how overwhelmed he was—maybe then he wouldn't have let that woman proselytize him."

"Woman?" I said, leaning forward.

Despair in Kikuchi's eyes morphed into seething rage. Both her hands curled into fists as heavy breaths rushed out from her quivering lips. She looked down at her lap and started banging her knees with increasing, steady force.

"Madonna." Kikuchi growled. "One of DeLightful's founders. She's responsible for everything!"

Huh? Madonna? I almost didn't recognize the name—or maybe I didn't want to. But like an old ghost returning to haunt me, Noriko's invisible presence enveloped me from behind, her sweet breaths once again trying to lull me into oblivion. Even almost eight years later her influence on not only me, but also on the world had not waned.

"My husband became obsessed with her," Kikuchi continued. "He regurgitated everything she said verbatim. He'd come home from work reciting her lessons, sing them in the shower, even go to sleep chanting them. I was worried sick about him but I didn't do anything. I was useless as a wife."

I wanted to tell her to stop; stop before she reached the inevitable conclusion, the denouement that all was leading towards. But then Noriko's invisible hands clasped my mouth.

"Back then, no one knew what was going on," Kikuchi said. "DeLightfuls were still small compared to today, but what do you think happens when one of their founders commit suicide?" She looked at me with dead, unyielding eyes. "The founder entire swaths of people obsessed over?"

"I-I wouldn't know." A nervous laugh escaped my lips.

Kikuchi stared down into her tea, as if transfixed by her own blurry reflection. "What do you do when your only object of affection kills herself? Well . . . you kill yourself too. Even if you're leaving behind your pregnant wife."