Love Laughs at Suicide

1: The wheels of love? The taste of fate.

As a college student - you come to the understanding that all you can afford to eat is MacDonald’s and any instant ramen you can salvage from the corner shop.

With a diet like this, how could life get anymore complicated?

Fresh out of high school, and with a bestselling novel under my belt - I felt invincible. After all, I was going to be someone big. My works, my face, and my name would be known all over the world. I was going to be a writing sensation! But as the months flicked by, as college came into session, as my part-time job, and term papers became my life - I soon realized how very far I was from that conception.

It had been four years since I had last published my book, and well, I’ve been working on my new narrative now. But things weren’t really going as planned. I had all these ideas in my head - these voices crying out to me - yelling at me to tell their stories, to create an epic out of their breath.

Day by day - I’d sit at my laptop, back stiff as hell, puffing away on a cigarette. Peering through the smoke at the unearthly glow of my monitor screen - I felt hopeless. The voices were white sound, and I had no way of distinguishing one from the other. I writhed in mental agony - as I battled a bout of writer’s block. It was then my two roommates, Ryuhei and Shuya, noticed that something was disturbing me.

“Videogames again?” Shuya asked, he tilted his body slightly, trying to look me in the eye as I laid upside-down on our duct taped sofa. My mouth, wide open, my eyes - red-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep. I made no comment as I blasted away at enemy troops with my Wii-gun.

“Keita!” This time it was Ryuhei, and the rumble of his voice joggled my kneecaps. He seized the Wii-gun out of my feeble grasp, and pulled me to my feet. He winced and crinkled his nose, “Ugh - you stink.” he said, grimacing, “Like sweaty newspapers and wet cigarettes.” Shuya joined in smelling me.

Yeah I stunk, my hair was plastered to my head with natural grease, and my clothes were stiff with grime. In any case, living in misery will do that to you. . .

Shuya’s almond eyes were filled with concern, “What’s wrong Keita-kun? You’ve been down in the dumps for quite a while now. Is something bothering you?”

I stood, processing, my eyes fell to my curling toes. What wasn’t bothering me? I wondered. Was it the fact that I was a twenty-something living with two weirdoes, eating soggy noodles for nourishment, while barely living off my measly - miserable paycheck? Was it the fact that I cried myself to sleep every night, and masturbated in the shower every morning - both due to sheer loneliness? How about the notion that I was a one-hit-wonder, with no real direction in life, with the probability of ending up a hikikomori(1), or worse - a parasite single(2)! The room started spinning. . .

“Hellooo, earth to Keita-kun!” Shuya sang, he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Nothing,” I said, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Shuya pouted, and Ryuhei folded his arms across his chest, “Well I think you need to get out.” he said.

I was confused by this, so I blinked at him.

“You need some fresh air,” Ryuhei continued, his square head nodding - as if he was agreeing with himself.

I glanced down at my Pacman wristwatch, “It’s too late, maybe tomorrow. . .”

“It’s only eight.” Shuya whined, “Besides, Ryuhei’s right. You should wash up and take a walk. Clear your head, and treat yourself to something nice. Staying in this apartment is obviously doing you no good.”

I didn’t like the idea, they wanted me to bathe and go for a walk. I pursed my lips in irritation, “I would, but I don’t have any cash. . .”

My dear roomies then whipped out some yen.

I grinned painfully, “Oh, thanks.” I had to admit, a walk did sound pretty nice.

It was like I said, when you’re a college student living in Osaka, all you can afford is well - you know.

I sat, mindlessly munching away on a Biggu Makku, desperately watching waves of carefree teens rushed by. Girls walking bowlegged, cross-eyed from staring at their cell phone screens, guys with their fashionable good looks, their confident strides. I imagined my hamburger tasting bitter, it was hard to swallow. The mall was a bad idea, I should’ve picked someplace dark, remote, and quiet. A movie theater, hell - a library would’ve been better.

Behind me, there was some king of commotion going on at the entrance. I turned around, curious. There were a bunch of security guards rushing about. There was this one guard, he looked pissed - he was covered in what looked like soot, his uniform was in shreds, and half of his hair was gone. He was shoving the rest of the troop around, screaming at them hysterically. The whole scene was just bizarre, I chuckled lightly, it was probably some dumbass kid they were looking for. . .

I turned back around and was about to carry on eating, but as I made a grab for my hamburger I noticed that it was gone.

“Gah!” I sat back, puzzled. I lifted my head up, forwarding my eyes. And there - chomping away on my burger, fingering my fries, and taking sips of my soda - was some guy. My mouth fell open, “What the fuck?” I inquired.

The dude looked up at me, blinking profoundly, his cheeks stuffed with food, “. . .the fuck?” he echoed, his speech muddled, his eyebrows arching.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, getting irritated, “what the fuck?” I went to stand, but in an instant so fast - the guy glanced over my shoulder, jumped over the table, pulled me back down and sat beside me. He then grabbed my beanie off my head and wore it.

“Shhh.” He stared straight ahead, smiling oddly while he popped a fry between his lips. I sat silent, wondering what the hell was going on, my heart - pounding. I came to my senses and pushed his arm off. Strangely enough, his smile faded as it limply flopped back into his lap.

“What are you doing?”I hissed between my teeth while I scooted my seat away from him. “Do I know you?”

The guy took a moment to mull over my words, “I don’t think you know me, but I sure know you, Codee Osugi.” he grinned, his blond hair was curling over the edges of my beanie.

So the weirdo did know me, well in the least - he knew my work. My writing alias was Codee Osugi and he was obviously a fan. I felt a rush of pride,

“Well,” I said smugly, “if you want an autograph. . .”

Suddenly the guy froze and gingerly glanced behind us. His eyes went wide as he grabbed my arm and pulled me against him - he shoved his face into the crook of my neck.

Seriously, I was not pleased, “WHOA! What the hell? Get off!” His breath was warm against my flesh, and his face was soft. I struggled against him, but as the weakling I am, he easily overpowered me. He shushed me once more, and held onto me tightly. I watched quietly as security guards scuttled past us, heading toward the escalator. It was all very evident now, I glanced down at the guy in my arms. They were obviously looking for him.

“Are they gone now?” he asked against my skin.

“Yeah - they’re gone.” I said. I was interested in the whole situation, what did he do exactly?

He withdrew from me slowly, pulling my beanie off his head, “Thanks, I’d been caught for sure.” He smiled, and I suddenly felt embarrassed. The guy was strange looking - he was a first-class weirdo.

“You know,” he said, “I really enjoyed Goodnight and Go. I’ve been looking forward to your next novel.” I was waiting for the usual question, the when-is-it-going-to-come-out one. But instead he just smiled kindly.

So I smiled back, “Thanks - really.”

“I’m Kimishima Kohei.” He said abruptly while bowing rather deeply. The guy’s mind seemed everywhere.

“Osugi Keita.” I bowed back.

Kohei bolted up, “Osugi Keita? Your name’s Keita!” he let out a scream, and it was loud enough to grab the attention of the shop keepers near by.

I blushed, “Hey shut up! You’re going to get. . .”

And as if on cue, some security guards popped their heads over the upper level’s ledge. “There!” They scrambled toward the escalator.

I rolled my eyes, the whole situation was exasperating, “You better run off.” I said - shooing him away.

Kohei grinned, “Good idea!” he grabbed my wrist and started running, pulling me along with him.

I couldn’t believe this, “Are you crazy?” I yelled, watching the blur of people and shops whirl by.

“Maybe. . . probably.” he said, “Just roll with it!” he took a sharp turn around a corner, down into a hallway, which led to an emergency exit. Kohei didn’t slow down though, as he kicked the door open, pulling me out into the parking lot - out into the night, out onto the wet pavement. I kept my eyes on the ground, taking care not to slip. My thoughts were everywhere, I didn’t know how to take all of this. . .

Kohei slowed down, and releasing my wrist he said, “Hey - I think we lost them.” He slugged me playfully on the shoulder - which by the way hurt like a mother. “You okay?” His marble-like eyes were filled with concern.

I could feel myself bristling, this was ridiculous! “No, I’m not okay! What the hell was that? I can’t believe - ugh, what’s wrong with you?” I was scared stiff, but oddly exhilarated, I really loved this. . .

“Hey.”

I snapped my head up, I was lost in thought - and oblivious to the fact that Kohei had been talking to me, “What?”

“I said, would you like to go for a ride?”Kohei was dangling some keys in front of my face, “My treat.” He smiled.

My breathing was heavy, “What?”

Kohei chuckled lightly, “Here. . .” he went to grab my hand, but I pulled it away reflexively. “I’m not going to bite,” he said coldly, seeming hurt.

Who the hell was this guy really? I took a good look at Kohei. He was tall, his hair was bleached, his face was bony and sophisticated looking. I bit my lip, the guy was wearing a blue and silver jumpsuit with the zipper pulled down just below his bare chest. This worried me, I couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was involved in a bōsōzoku(3) gang. I thought better of it, after all Kohei seemed normal enough to not be associated with one. . .

“Come on Osugi-san,” he whispered, “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

I glanced back at the emergency exit, was this a good idea? I mean, I’m really not one to jump into things. But if I say no, then what? I’ll head on home to my Wii, my laptop, my listless boredom. And if I go with him. . . I didn’t know what to say, so I shrugged.

Kohei’s smile faded, he stood silently staring at me. He made a motion to grab my hand - watching to see my reaction - I merely stared back. So instead, he tugged on my sleeve, and I followed him distractedly to the edge of the lot.

My curiosity grew as we passed various parked cars. What exactly did this guy drive I wondered, as we passed car after car. We came up to the edge of the lot, and there under a tree, sat the coolest looking motorcycle I had ever laid eyes on. A newly modeled, bright green and white, Kawasaki Ninja! I ran over to it - gasping, my mouth hanging open. I wanted to touch it, but I didn’t want to taint the surface with my grimy fingers. “Holy shit! This, this is yours?” I said awestruck, this guy was something else!

He nodded, “Go on, touch it.” he said, “Take a seat.”

I placed a quivering hand on its side, I didn’t dare sit on it.

“Now do you want to go for a ride?” Kohei had walked over and swung himself onto the seat, “Well?”

I panicked, so this guy probably was associated with the bōsōzoku, with a jumpsuit and a bike like this he had to be. But still, he didn’t seem dodgy. . .

“Where would we go?” I asked, eyeing him.

“Around Namba, that’s all. Trust me.”

I nodded, and hopped onto the back of his bike, “Alright, but no speeding!”

“Well that kind of spoils the ride doesn’t it?” He said, smiling over his shoulder.

“Okay,” I gave in, feeling the rush of excitement, “maybe a little speed won‘t hurt.”

Boy was I wrong. . .

Up Next. . . 2: A notepad? And an unexpected call.

Footnotes:

(1) ひきこもり (hikikomori): The phenomenon of acute social withdrawal. Hermits basically.

(2) パラサイトシングル (parasaito shinguru): A term for a select few in their twenties to early thirties, who decide to live a carefree and comfortable life with their parents.

(3) 暴走族 (bōsōzoku): Motorcycle gangs, where young men take part in modifying their motorcycles and sometimes cars. Gang wars and street racing are common. They’re usually known for wearing jumpsuits, military overcoats, or Kamikaze uniforms, with baggy pants tucked into combat boots. Pompadours, punch perms, and surgical mask are also common. There are female bōsōzoku clubs as well.

Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this! Comment and I’ll gladly return the favor.