Chapter Thirty-One - Mysterious

The things Jun has forced me to do have become more brazen and difficult to accept and it’d only been four weeks. I sighed and marveled at how it was possible to actually sweep angrily. I certainly wasn’t accomplishing any more than I would have normally, but the movement of the broom was more frenzied to the point even the normally unflappable Sora yawned and fixed me with a curious and somewhat agitated gaze.

I had assumed I’d do some chores and pretend I didn’t despise every fiber of his disgusting being and that would be that. To think of myself from a month ago as tragically naïve was truly a sobering revelation. It had, indeed, been what I’d expected for the first few days, but had quickly escalated. I was now being shaken down for money, my entire paycheck from the temple had gone into Jun’s disgusting hands, and then promptly out to pay for his frequent dates.

The situation at school, far from getting better, seemed to have gotten worse with Emi continuing to not talk to Mizuki or Yuto except in the most perfunctory of ways. Aria had almost entirely given up sitting at our table since each time she did Daishi and his minions inevitably joined her, which only agitated Emi and I even more. Emi still seemed mostly her same old self, but there was definitely something different about her. She was plainly worried and ruminating over something, but she hadn’t said anything to me about it and I didn’t want to pry, so a small gap had opened even between us.

The chores at home had also ramped up quickly from doing his share, which he’d never really done anyway, to washing his clothes, drawing his baths, and had finally escalated to massaging his repugnant feet the night before. My parents, of course, had marveled at what a wonderful child I’d become. Complimenting Jun on his ability to help me “see reason” and to give me “a new perspective”. It was humiliating in every way possible. Which made a lot of sense, as that was Jun’s ultimate goal.

It had gotten to the point where I did everything in my power to not ever be home except to sleep, and even then, only a few hours. I’d taken on as many hours as Komari would give me as well as extra hours at the temple. I had taken to doing my homework at the library or Emi’s house and spent the rest of the time at the gym or dojo. Anything to keep from having to see his smug face.

The extra pay I’d brought in, minus the money Jun had blackmailed from me, had let me buy the tennis bracelet Aria had pointed out for her birthday present. I just had to hold it together long enough to give it to her, I figured with a scowl. I had no money left, really, so if Jun’s demands increased, I’d be in trouble on that front as well. I massaged the bridge of my nose for a long moment. Nothing about this whole situation didn’t suck.

While my hand had quickly recovered its strength and felt as good as new, my patience with the arrangement was rapidly running out. Every time I got off the phone with Aria or we found a moment to steal for ourselves I was able to refocus on waiting him out. I could do anything for a short period of time, I insisted to myself. My rapidly fraying nerves, however, told an entirely different story. I sighed and shook my head. March was still a month away and Jun seemed no closer to going back to college than he had when he’d slunk home.

“Why are you breaking my stuff?” Komari asked, appearing at my elbow, and causing me to jump in surprise.

“What do you mean?” I demanded, my heart pounding in my chest from her sudden appearance.

“You’ve bent my broom,” Komari noted, gesturing to the bent metal pole in my hand. I glanced down at the handle in some surprise. “It’s done nothing to you.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, bending it back as well as I was able.

“You do know that once something that’s not designed to bend bends it’s pretty much just going to be bothersome, right?” Komari petted Sora absently.

“I didn’t mean to,” I muttered, glancing down at the rather badly bent handle.

“It’s ok. I bought them in bulk and sold the ones I didn’t need to the Sengoku Appreciation Society for use in their re-enactments,” Komari handed me a new metal handle.

“Really?” I chuckled, unscrewing the handle from the broom head.

“Number one rule of business,” Komari lectured sagely, “if you have to spend money, try to make it back in any way possible.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I nodded as I screwed in the new pole.

“Honestly, you are one step away from brooming the dye from the tiles at this point,” Komari shook her head ruefully. “Come with me before you go all Hulk smash on my store.” I followed her dutifully and sat on the chair behind the counter she indicated. A moment later she reappeared with a steaming cup of coffee. I took it gratefully and she slouched into the chair opposite me, sipping from her own cup.

“It’s good,” I took another long sip, the warm liquid rushing down my throat, warming my belly.

“Now tell me what’s got you all bent out of shape like my broom,” Komari put her hand reassuringly on my knee before leaning back in her chair, lifting the cup to her lips. “I’ll take my therapy fees out of your pay.” She murmured as she took a sip of coffee.

“Ok,” I sighed. “Hypothetically speaking something may be bothering me.”

“Plainly,” Komari nodded. “But I am excited about you going all hypothetical on me. It’s like we’re talking about a friend of a friend instead of just you going on about what’s bothering you and pretending it’s someone else. It makes everything seem very mysterious, even if it’s not. Proceed.”

“Anyway,” I scowled at her. “I- “

“Wait! Do the ‘I have a friend’ thing!”

“Are you going to listen to me?” I scowled at her.

“Of course,” Komari took a sip of her coffee. “Continue.”

“Screw hypotheticals,” I finally decided. “My brother found out I was gay.”

“Wait! You’re gay?” Komari gasped in mock horror.

“Can you not?” I glared at her.

“Probably. But I won’t,” Komari shrugged. “Continue again.”

“There’s not much else to tell,” I shook my head. “He found out I’m gay and is blackmailing me to keep it from my parents.”

“How is he blackmailing you?”

“Making me give him money and making me do all of the crap around the house he doesn’t want to do and…” I paused in revulsion for a moment before continuing. “Making me give him foot massages.”

“He’s ramping his demands up, I imagine?”

“Yeah.”

“I assume he knows about your girlfriend as well, then?” Komari mused, more to herself than me. “Like, who she is?”

“Yeah.” I repeated glumly.

“Let me tell you a little story,” Komari once again seemed to be mostly speaking to herself. “In 1973 Richard Nixon stated, in kind of an offhand type of way, that America didn’t negotiate with terrorists in response to some embassy hostage thing. The next day the hostages were killed.”

“Damn.”

“Well, they would probably have been killed anyway, the thinking goes. Either way, as official policy most nations since that time or even before really, just not officially, don’t negotiate with terrorists. The thinking is that if someone is going to do something crazy anyway, why make it easier for them to be able to afford to do even more insane crap later on by giving them money?” I flinched. “Long and short, your brother is a terrorist.”

I’d never really thought of the situation in those terms but what Komari said didn’t seem inaccurate. Plainly it was on a much smaller scale and people probably wouldn’t get killed, but the similarities were rather telling.

“There is also another line of thinking that if you do negotiate with them, you open a line of dialog and can possibly turn the situation into one where you can engage them meaningfully and come to an agreement and resolve the current conflict and maybe prevent further conflict. I think you need to ask yourself if by continuing to be held hostage by your own family you’ll end up achieving your goals and, honestly, what those goals even are.”

“I just want to protect my girlfriend and, you know, not get kicked out of the house,” I shrugged.

“They’d kick you out of the house?” Komari glanced at me curiously.

“Definitely,” I nodded.

“Fucked up,” Komari shook her head with a sigh. “Unfortunately, there’s really no right answer I can give you since it’s a problem you’ll have to figure out yourself in this case. Since I can’t fix it, I won’t charge you, but I can give you some things to think about.”

“I appreciate you not charging me,” I grinned at her.

“I assume you have some sort of end game you’re doing this for, but do you think the demands will level off or will they increase? He obviously is a sleaze bag, but how big of a sleaze is he? How far will you allow yourself to be pushed? What happens when he does push past that line in the sand for you? Have you spoken to your girlfriend about any of this? It seems to me you’re making decisions based on nothing but your own needs and wants. You say you’re trying to protect her, but did you ever stop to think maybe she doesn’t want to be protected?”

“What do you mean?” I eyed her suspiciously.

“Kasumi,” Komari leaned forward and patted my knee again. “I think you’re a fine young woman, but you’re a fucking moron.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded harshly.

“Look around you,” Komari gestured to the empty store. “What do you see?”

“Uhhh…otaku stuff?” I had no idea what point she was trying to make.

“Manga and videos! You are seriously this dense? Fine, I’ll enlighten you. You’ve fallen into the most obnoxious and annoying of all tropes,” Komari’s head drooped in disappointment.

“Huh?”

“You’re making decisions on your own and not communicating with her. It’s in almost every yuri manga ever,” Komari slapped her head in frustration. I stared at her for a moment before realizing she was absolutely right.

“Shiiit,” I whispered.

“Precisely so,” Komari agreed. “Don’t try to throw yourself onto the altar of sacrifice so quickly. Talk to your waifu. Act like, you know…a couple. Couples talk things out, even if they’re unpleasant.”

“Y-You’re right,” I muttered. “Is that how you and Rei handle things?”

“This,” she blushed fiercely as she motioned at the two of us, “and that are two separate things.”

“I saw that Kunoichi’s on tour until the 10th, are you watching the shows?” I teased her.

“You need to go back to work before I fire you.” Komari frowned at me.

“Wasn’t the show they did in Kawasaki amazing?” I pressed.

“Yes, it was, now go the hell back to work!” I grinned at her and returned to my cleaning.

She was, of course, absolutely right. We had made the rules and I had gone on to blatantly break the most important one. Communication. I had, I realized, become the meme, and I truly hated it. I would call Aria and set up a date with her so we could talk. I’d explain everything and maybe the two of us could come up with a solution.

I walked outside into the cold after work and stopped short as a big black car sat on the street in front of the store. Maybe Rei sent the car to get Komari, I mused, pulling my collar closer to my neck to ward off the cold wind. I was walking away from the store toward the bus stop when a dark figure emerged from the car and walked toward me. I shifted my book bag from my shoulder to my hand, just in case I had to beat someone down and waited.

“Good evening to you, Ms. Fujimura,” The man said warmly, bowing slightly. As he emerged into the light of the streetlamp, I saw it was Emi’s parents’ driver, Kei. He was tall and muscled with a broad, friendly face.

“Ah, good evening, Kei,” I greeted him. “What brings you here?”

“Miss Emi would like to speak to you,” he bowed again.

“Huh? Is she in the yakuza, now?” Kei grinned at me and shrugged.

“Not that I’m aware of, would you please follow me to the car?”

“Sure, I guess,” I followed dutifully, slipping into the warmth of the car, not surprised to see Emi sitting in the seat opposite.

“Were you surprised? Emi grinned at me. “Tell me you were surprised!”

“Quite surprised, ‘Miss Emi’,” I chuckled. “What’s all this about?”

“Kei was supposed to tell you I wanted to talk to you. Kei! You were supposed to tell her and be all mysterious about it! What the hell, man? I thought we were friends!”

“He told me,” I sighed.

“Was he mysterious?” Emi pressed.

“Agatha Christie mysterious,” I affirmed.

“Good,” Emi sunk back into the seat in relief. “I’m sorry, Kei, I thought you’d betrayed me. Good to know you can be trusted.”

“Of course, Miss Emi,” Kei nodded as the car slipped from the curve and down the street.

“Now, no listening!” Emi demanded. “This is private stuff!” Kei nodded again and flipped on the music from his phone.

“While this is all terribly mysterious and…baffling, I have to ask…what’s up?” I had to admit the heater in the car was much appreciated over the cold of the winter wind at the bus stop.

“Listen, Kasumin,” Emi fidgeted in agitation. “This isn’t going to be easy, and I’ve thought long and hard about it because things that suck suck, you know?”

“Ok?”

“There’s no getting around it. We need to discuss some shit.” Emi finally sighed.