The Crime Boss Who Forgot Me

Mio My father took his good shoes. That was how I knew he wasn't coming back. The television could have meant anything. He had sold two before, although technically only one of them had belonged to him. The missing cash wasn't especially useful as evidence either. Money had always disappeared around my father. It was one of his more dependable qualities. But Takashi Aizawa hated his good shoes. They pinched his toes. He only wore them when he needed to convince somebody that his life was going better than it was. Now the space beneath the coat rack was empty. I stood there for a while. Then I went back to the kitchen and turned off the rice cooker. There was no reason to ruin dinner as well. The apartment was quiet without him. I had wanted that for years. It was disappointing to discover that getting what you wanted could feel this bad. I opened the cabinet above the sink. Two bowls. Three chipped plates. A mug from a bank that had closed when I was in high school. The envelope I kept behind the tea was gone. I closed the cabinet. That one hurt. Not because there had been much inside. Seventeen thousand yen wasn't enough to change a life. It was, however, seventeen thousand yen closer than I had been before. I had been saving again. I seemed to do that often. Saving money was the easy part. Keeping it had proven more advanced. My phone buzzed on the counter. For half a second, I thought it might be him. It was my manager from the bento shop asking whether I could come in thirty minutes early tomorrow. I stared at the message. Then typed: Yes. Some things remained pleasantly uncomplicated. I put the phone down and looked at the clock. 4:12. He would probably come before five. That thought made my stomach tighten. I washed the rice paddle. It was already clean. I washed it again. There had been seven days to decide what I was going to do. Seven days was a long time when you knew something terrible was coming. It was also surprisingly short when you had to continue going to work. The first day, I had gone to the bento shop. The second, too. On Wednesday, I worked until nine at the convenience store. Thursday night, I carried glasses at the bar until my feet went numb. Friday, I bought cabbage because it was discounted. Yesterday, I washed my sheets. Today, my father disappeared. Life rarely arranged itself around important moments. I dried my hands. There was a train station twelve minutes away. I knew the schedule. I had enough money in my account for a ticket somewhere sufficiently inconvenient. Auntie Mei would have let me sleep above the bar if I called her. I had considered it. More than once. I was still here. I did not have a particularly noble explanation for that. A week ago, I had come home late and heard my father talking in the kitchen. He had not heard me enter. I heard a man's voice through the phone first. Then my father's. Then my name. I stopped walking. The conversation lasted another four minutes. I remembered because the hallway light switched itself off halfway through, and I stood in the dark listening to my father solve his latest problem. Apparently, selling your daughter to settle a debt she had never benefited from was a solution. He never mentioned the conversation afterward. Neither did I. For seven days, we lived together as usual. I cooked. He ate. I worked. He asked for money twice. There was probably something profound to be said about that. I had mostly been tired. The knock came at 4:37. My fingers slipped on the dishtowel. I stood very still. Once. Then twice more. Not my father's knock. I already knew that. I put the towel down. My bag was in my bedroom. I had packed it that morning after discovering the shoes were gone. Two changes of clothes. Work uniforms. Toothbrush. My mother's photograph. Nothing that couldn't be carried. I had not decided whether I was taking it anywhere. Another knock. “I'm coming.” My voice sounded normal. Or as normal as I hoped it would. I walked to the door. For years, I had wondered what I would say if I ever found myself alone with Rei Kurose again. Apparently, I was going to ask him about my virginity. There were probably better ways to reunite with a childhood friend. I knew what my father had sold me into. There was no benefit in pretending otherwise. I opened the door. He was looking down at his phone. Dark hair. Black suit. One hand in his pocket. For a moment, he didn't notice me. And for a moment, I could look. That was easier. The last time I had seen him up close, he had been standing beside my father while discussing money. He had looked through me with such perfect politeness that I spent the rest of the evening wondering whether I had imagined an entire childhood. Today he looked older. Not much. Rei was only two years ahead of me. But there were people who aged by birthdays and people who aged by becoming someone else. He looked up. My chest hurt anyway. “Good afternoon.” Not Mio. Of course not. I tightened my fingers around the door. “Hi.” His gaze stayed on my face a moment longer than necessary. Or maybe I only wanted it to. “Is your father home?” “No.” A pause. “When will he be back?” “I don't think he will.” Rei's expression changed. Very slightly. He glanced behind me. I moved aside. “You can check.” His eyes returned to mine. “That won't be necessary.” “He took his good shoes.” Rei stared at me. I wished immediately that I had said something else. There were probably better ways to inform a gangster turned debt collector that your father had fled town. “He hates those shoes,” I added. That did not improve it. Something moved near the corner of Rei's mouth. Not quite a smile. I remembered that too. I hated remembering things about him. “May I come in?” I stepped aside. Rei removed his shoes neatly at the entrance. He used to kick them off wherever they landed. I looked away before the thought could become anything. He walked into the living room. The missing television left a pale rectangle on the wall. Rei noticed it. “Did he sell it?” “Took it.” “Of course.” I looked at him. That sounded almost like the Rei I remembered. He was already looking somewhere else. Probably coincidence. I folded my arms. “What happens now?” Rei turned. “What do you mean?” My mouth went dry. So he was going to make me say it. Fine. I had survived worse things than humiliation. Probably. “My father owes you money --” “He owes the organization money.” The correction was immediate. Organization. Not me. I nodded. “And he's gone.” “Yes.” Rei's face gave me nothing. I wondered whether that was something he had learned after leaving our neighborhood. He had been terrible at hiding things when we were children. I used to know when he was lying because one of his eyebrows moved. I looked at his eyebrows. Nothing. That was stupid. I stopped. “What did he tell you?” Rei asked. My heart stumbled. There it was. I could lie. For some reason, I didn't. “Nothing.” His eyes sharpened. “Then what do you know?” I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. “I know what selling your daughter to settle your debt means.” Rei became very still. I wished I had run. Not because I suddenly wanted to escape him. Because saying it in front of him was much harder than thinking about it alone. “He didn't tell you.” It wasn't a question. “No.” “How did you find out?” “I heard him.” “When?” “A week ago.” His gaze dropped briefly to my packed bag near the hallway. Then back to me. “You knew for a week.” I nodded. “And you're still here.” There were several answers. None of them were good. I looked at his dark hair. For years, it had been blond in my head. Badly blond. His mother used to complain about the towels. I wondered whether he remembered that. Probably not. “I knew you'd come.” The words came out quieter than I intended. Rei didn't answer. My face grew warm. Wonderful. I had managed to embarrass myself before anything had even happened. I looked down. “You've been the one coming about his debts.” “That doesn't explain why you stayed.” No. It didn't. My fingers tightened around the loose thread. I could still leave. Even now. Rei hadn't touched me. The door was six steps away. Auntie Mei's number was in my phone. The sensible thing was obvious. I had been sensible for a very long time. I was tired of it. Not permanently. I had work tomorrow. But perhaps for five minutes. Five minutes seemed affordable. “Rei.” His eyes changed at his name. That was all. I almost lost my nerve. “You probably don't remember.” A small line appeared between his brows. “Remember what?” Of course. I smiled because otherwise I might do something worse. “Nothing.” “Mio --” My breath caught. He stopped. So did I. There it was again. My name. Maybe it really was on a file. It still sounded different in his voice. I stared at him. Rei looked away first. And suddenly I had enough courage to make a mistake. “I don't particularly enjoy being used to settle my father's debt.” His jaw tightened. I kept going before I could stop. “And I know what happens to women used as payment to an organization like yours.” My voice failed at the end. I swallowed. Rei waited. That almost made it worse. I had loved him when I was too young to understand that some people left and never came back. Apparently, part of me had continued out of habit. “If I don't have a choice about what happens to me --” God. This was humiliating. I looked at the floor. Then at him. The words felt impossible until they were already leaving my mouth. “Can you be my first?” Silence. I could hear the old fan turning in the kitchen. Rei didn't move. Neither did I. Then, very softly, he said, “What did you just say?”