Vicissitude: Yang Side (Lost Earth Series) Read online

  I pull my phone back, staring in disbelief. What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t even ask if his mom was okay. Though I suppose the Geisha might already knew how well Mai is if he knew that she was well enough to call me. Putting my phone under the pillow again, I breathe in through my nose and exhale. He wants that promotion for himself. That’s probably why he made me quit. I plant myself face down on my pillow.

  The whole episode at the shrine replays over and over in my head. I really fucked up this time. How do I even get out of this? He can blackmail me until I’m old and drinking prune juice. If it weren’t against protocol, I’d go right back to the shrine so I could gun the Geisha down myself. But I guess it’s a good thing that assassin on assassin murder is against Showguns, otherwise the Geisha could’ve killed me just as easily.

  If I could just get some dirt on him, then he’d fuck off. The thought of asking Mai comes into mind, but I quickly toss it out. Mai would probably be the last person to know. Not to mention that if I did ask Mai what he was up to, I’m sure I’m only inviting more hostility from him for “tattling”. But I could ask someone in IT to look him up, that’s much harder to trace back to me. It could be my only bet.

  1-3 'Ah'

  Darkness plagues my dreams. Thick smoke-like clouds seep under the windows and the patio doors. They twist together and undulate up the stairs. Towards Jin’s room.

  I jolt awake, chest heaving. My gaze darts to the window.

  It’s cracked open. Wind sighs through mesh screen.

  Didn’t I close this? I press down on the window rail until it can’t move anymore. Stay closed. I rub my eyes.

  Megumi’s desk alarm clock flashes a bright red 4:38 in my face. Way too early to be awake. I lay back down on my pillow.

  But sleep doesn’t come. It’s just vague blackness behind my eyelids, and the sharp awareness that I’m not asleep.

  I turn over. I pull blankets over my head. I pull them off. I try sleeping on the other side of bed. I yank the blankets off again.

  Nothing. It’s 5:00 now.

  Might as well get up and eat. I roll out of the bottom bunk.

  I tip past Aunt Tammy’s room. This is the only part of the house where you can’t walk normally. You have to sneak, crawl, creep— something stealthy because Tammy’s presence has an uncanny way of making you feel like a criminal. Regi and I have a theory that Aunt Tammy isn’t human. In the strip of light sprawling over the hall carpet, her shadow looks like it has demon horns growing out of the head. A soft sip drifts from inside.

  I pass the empty body outline in King’s doggy bed. Hopefully, Jin remembered not to leave all of King’s food out.

  Downstairs, King’s food bowl still overflows with brown kibble. The pup stands with his head between the blinds while he peers outside. His attention shifts towards me. He whines and paws at the patio door.

  “Alright. Alright.” I unlock the door and open it. “I’ll let you go piss.”

  King doesn’t budge.

  “Go on.” I nudge him with my foot. King roots himself stubbornly on the ground, licking his nose.

  Then why are you staring out the window if you don’t want to go out there? Shaking my head, I close the patio door to raid the refrigerator for my daily apple.

  Soft thumps herald Jin’s appearance in the living room. Black vest hoodie. Hair gelled up into spikes. Shorts. Skateboard. It’s not his. He’s popping gum behind his braces. Today, Jin’s playing Rebel Skater Boy. In my car yesterday, he was Very Confused Hipster. He’s finally learning from his mistakes. Praise Fedora.

  Jin tosses his backpack on the dining room table. He steps in without a word, bringing his Morning Dew body spray along with him: wet dog and something woodsy. He’s wearing enough to choke a whale. The label should read, “Morning Don’t”; that much spray is a crime against humanity.

  I sneeze into my elbow. “Why are you wearing so much body spray?”

  He chews lazily and rolls his eyes at me. “Because I want to smell good.”

  I rummage through the cabinet for my mug and a bag of mango green tea. “Smell good for who? Girls who can’t smell?”

  He doesn’t respond to this. Instead, Jin goes through one of the drawers for King’s leash. “Gonna take King out so he doesn’t pee in the house. In case Mom asks.”

  The corner of my lips twitch. “Take a plastic bag too then.”

  My only response is the jingle of King’s collar and the door chuffing shut. Jin’s silhouette flashes across the window. He’s cutting across the black asphalt and skating down to the mesh-fence labyrinth of construction that defines the end of Sakura Boulevard.

  Shaking my head, I grab the remote from the kitchen table and turn on the tv.

  “And yet another case of Devil’s Disease has struck in Yamamura.” Comes the voice of the female anchor. “A man from Pua’alowhe whose name has not yet been released, has been brought into quarantine.” The camera cuts to what looks like a white room with zip tents inside and patients dotted with red lesions lying listless on the beds. Staff in quarantine suits mill about, tending to the ill.

  “We are urging the public to be very careful, especially those who do a lot of overseas traveling in countries like Pua’alowhe,” A wrinkled nurse says. “They don’t have as tight health regulations as most other countries do, and Devil’s Disease is not something that just shows up right away. Once it gets in you it could take days for any symptoms to show up. You could be spreading the disease to everyone you talk to and not even know it.”

  I snort and fill my mug with water. Did this old prune even do her homework? Devil’s Disease isn’t contagious until the symptoms come. That just goes to show how far behind the public are on their Akuma research. I doubt they even know that there are harmless strains.

  The screen switches off to the anchor again. “Since so far all of the Devil’s Disease cases have originated from Pua Moana who have come into the country recently and people who have returned from Pua’alowhe, the House of Representatives has currently proposed a bill to possibly ban flights to and from Pua’alowhe and Pua’alowhe citizens until further notice. But in other news, a Pua Moana man in Yamamura was shot in his own liquor store by a gunwoman who he claims called him a ghetto disease-ridden pineapple before she fired at him. Stay tuned for more details.”

  I frown, putting my cup of water in the microwave. I turn off the tv. A dumbass and an amateur. The news has been full of stories like that lately. If someone isn’t catching Devil’s Disease, then some jackass is harassing innocent people. I’m only half Pua Moana myself, born and raised in this damn country, and I’m not super Pua Moana dark, but I still get my share of dirty looks, slurs, and daily bullshit. I shouldn’t have even turned on the news. All I’ve accomplished is putting myself in a bad mood. I need to go get dressed. After I have my tea and eat, I slog my way upstairs.

  Megumi’s alarm blares its twittery beeping. Her feet dangle over the side of the bed. She jumps down and cuts off the clock at her desk. Yawning, she glances at me over her shoulder. “You’re awake before me." She draws her fleece blanket around her like a cloak, making her voice exaggeratedly high and nasally while pointing a fleece-wrapped finger at me. "What sorcery is this?”

  I grunt, sitting up. “Bad sleep. I’ll live.”

  Megumi gathers her study guides and textbooks in a neat pile next to her laptop. Last night, she just seemed plain tired. Today, she’s more pallid than porcelain.

  Ducking my head under the iron frame of Megumi’s bunk, I ask. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “No.” She rubs her temple. “I feel like shit. Last night my throat was just scratchy.”

  I back up to my nightstand, and tease the drawer open. There are enough pill bottles inside for me to run my own prescription drug cartel. “Don’t tell me you’re catching Devil’s Disease too?”

  Megumi rolls her eyes at me. “It’s only a headache, Jun. Scratchy throat isn’t even a sympt—” Her eyes fall to my drawer. “Jun, where d
id you get all those pills?”

  “I know a guy.” I wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. They’re all legal.”

  “Legally yours?”

  “Is the music on your computer legally yours?”

  She goes quiet.

  “I thought so.” I thumb through the bottles, and pull out a white bottle for her. “Take one with food.”

  “Thanks, doc.” She takes it and twists the cap open.

  I get up. “With food.”

  “I was just gonna take out the ones that I actually need for later. Jeez…” She shakes out a white football-shaped pill and returns the bottle. “By the way, Akemi said she can’t make our game.”

  My gaze snaps up. “She said this when? Because she didn’t say shit to me.”

  “You were asleep when she called,” Megumi says. “Some kind of family emergency.”

  My fingers drum on the desk. Faces of possible backups flash through my mind. I reach for my phone. “Maybe we can call—“

  “No need. I already got someone.”

  I scrutinize Megumi standing in our bathroom doorway. “Who?”

  She leans against the door casing, tucking a thin tendril of auburn hair behind her ear. “A new recruit for Fedora Clan. She’s really good. And she plays the positions that Akemi plays so we’re all good to go.”

  Fedora Clan is Tokaido University’s club for its rich snobs and Lords of Earth fanatics. Well… Let me rephrase that. It’s for the rich snobs and the good Lords of Earth fanatics. The club president doesn’t really care too much about noobs. I slip into the closet for my work clothes. “Rank?”

  “Challenger like us.” Megumi retreats a step into the bathroom. “She’s being initiated today before exams, so you can meet her before your shift.”

  I pull my black Thanks-A-Latte tee from the hanger. Good. I’ve got enough to stress about already without adding the game to the mix.

  My phone meows. I pick it up and frown. It’s the Geisha.

  How do you feel about lab work, Hound?

  I raise an eyebrow. I type back. Lab work? You mean like write ups?

  Fitness tests, exercise, reviewing footage and giving feedback.

  That’s a strange-sounding lab. I don’t have experience in any of those things.

  It doesn’t matter. You won’t need any.

  Alright, if you say so.

  I’ll make the arrangements. Give me time.

  I toss my phone back on the bed. Not that I really have any other choice at this point.

  1-4 'Ah'

  This parking structure is concrete hell.

  Desperate students prowl past in their cars, looking for parking spaces to pounce into. They’re vicious-looking behind the wheel—pale-faced scowls, frappucino straws in their mouths, clenching the wheel as if they’re ready to snap it off. They’re circling for unreserved parking spots. It takes ten minutes for the black pick-up truck with the busted tail light in front of me to inch ahead just enough for me to park in the my space.

  My nails rap against the door handle. “Everyone and their mom is taking an exam today apparently.”

  Megumi adjusts her gray fedora in the mirror. “And they’re all going to want morning coffee.”

  A groan escapes my lips. I’m envisioning the morning rush already: students with blood-shot eyes and snappy-tongued faculty with sharp creases on their brow. “Don’t remind me.”

  Solicitors scuttle around the tarp-dwarfed desks set aside for them, not ready to irritate the student population to sign their petitions and buy watery almond milk tea boba. Just past the brick-ridden Student Plaza, the line for Thanks-A-Latte winds out the door. Just looking at it saps my energy. I hope it dies down a bit before my 8:30 shift.

  Megumi rummages through her backpack for her notes. “The initiation for our sub is in the Engineering Courtyard, if you’re not busy.” She’s trying to make it sound like a friendly suggestion, but her words are thinly-veiled maze walls. Blocking off “other options”.

  My throat clings to the “Sure” that Megumi seems to want. Yes, as a team captain I should want to meet anyone who is going to play Lords of Earth with my team. Yes, Megumi’s recommendations have never steered me wrong before. Yes, Challenger Ranks—who are women mind you— are rare and a reason to pop open the champagne and bow to the felt-hat god. Yet my gut twists and grinds in on itself like stone grinding stone. “What major is she?”

  Megumi touches a finger to her chin. “Computer Science and something else. I don’t remember.”

  As Megumi speaks, my head fills with images of a socially awkward brace-face girl with square black-framed glasses and a backpack way too big for her: worlds away from the Challenger badass I imagined at first. In Tokaido, country of throwing-money-and socioeconomic status at all your problems, you only declare Computer Science as your major as a woman if you: A) are studying abroad from another country, B) plan on living on the fringes of elitist Tokaido society for the remainder of your existence, or C) don’t have a husband by twenty five years old, and therefore doomed by scenario B.

  “What’s she like?” My gaze trails idly to an acne-peppered girl and her friend squinting at me from the moon bridge. A wave of tension rolls under my skin. There’s no Devil’s Disease over here. “She from around here?”

  “No, she’s from Pua’alowhe. I think same part as your dad.”

  Not that I remember where he’s from. My dad is a vague memory; I was like what twelve or something when he died. I glance at the girls again and thankfully they’re redirecting their stink eye elsewhere.

  “What are you looking at, Jun?”

  “People. You know how everyone is about Pua Moana these days.”

  Megumi’s gaze darts to me, eyes widening, then averts. She mutters, “Oh…yeah that. I should probably tell the new girl about that.”

  “How long has she been in the country?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I never asked.” Megumi scratches her head. “Though I’m sure she’d know about it by now. People aren’t exactly subtle here.”

  “Let’s hope no one scares her off then.”

  Fedora Clan members clump around the leaf-ridden stairs leading to the Engineering Courtyard. Sheaves of pale sunlight slant through the tree crowns on them. The rest of iSo is here. Ash, blonde-dyed hair and long horse-legs with a shirt bearing a glittery red-letter ‘GAWJISS’ on the front, texts fervently on his cell. Seraphim’s beefy frame hangs next to Ash, hands shoved into his khaki cargo pants as he frowns; he’s not really a part of the team, but he’s always around Ash so we tolerate him. Next to them stands Hiro, aka. our club president, posh diva queen, and last member of our iSo. He’s having the same identity crisis as Jin, only Hiro believes with all his heart that the “Thug Life” chose him. But looking at his backwards baseball cap and jeans halfway down his ass just makes me wish that the right pants size chose him instead. I’d love to send him the Showguns dress code, so that he can dress like he has some gods-damned sense.

  Hiro saunters up to us in his odd stiff walk; he moves like he has a rod jammed up his ass, small delicate steps. A catty grin prowls across his lips. He waves a ring-studded hand. “Hiiiiiiii, ladies. Did you hear about Akemi?”

  “I barely heard this morning from Megumi,” I say. “You know what it’s about?”

  Hiro taps the brim of his cap and gives an exaggerated sigh. “Some family thing or whatever. Ash is texting her right now. She’s not answering, but Megumi… you have someone, right?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one getting initiated,” Megumi says.

  I fold my arms. “Does she know about the iSo name thing?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I told her.” Megumi waves a hand. “She said she’d do her name change before she gets to the gaming house.”

  My gaze trails away. I hope so. Our game is against our rivals Malicious and their leader, Brazzers, will harass me all game we go into our 5v5 match and even just one of our members doesn’t match names. A painful throb seeps into my temples. I p
ush Brazzers out of mind.

  More Fedora Clan members trickle in. No one’s smiling or doing the usual handshake greets. If anything, they all caught a serious case of Bitchface; I only see arms folding, frowns, tapping feet, and people glancing at watches as if they could conceivably have something else to do at 7:20, the time when absolutely nothing ever happens.

  Ash’s mouth sours into a puckered frown. He tosses his head back. “Oh, my gataaaa! She’s quitting on us.”

  Ice drips down my spine. “You’re kidding me.”

  Ash shakes his head, “No.” He thrusts his phone in my face. “Look, she just sent it.”

  Hiro and Megumi inch in close to read with me.

  Akemi: Sorry guys. Can’t do this anymore. I quit iSo. :((((

  The ice in me flares into flames. What kind of shit is that? Leaving us? And on our match against Malicious of all days? And over text? “That’s fucking low.”

  “Come on, Jun.” Megumi puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve already got a replacement. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

  Hiro makes a sniffing sound, his eyes narrow slits. “What a whore.” He spits the word "whore" out really hard. “What a fucking whore.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if Malicious had something to do with it,” Seraphim jokes.

  Our gazes turn to him as one—all remembering his existence at the same time. No one laughs.

  Hiro huffs. Then his gaze slides away from me. “Hey, hey. Look who it is.”

  I glance over my shoulder. The first glance is enough to get me to turn all the way around.

  So, I’m totally wrong about the new girl being a society misfit.

  Sunlight gleams on her tan skin. It’s a real tan. Not a spray on. Her black hair is drawn up into a top-knot. She’s one of those Pua Moana: the feline-slender girls they put on magazines and on the front of Pua'alowhe travel brochures. Not the bone-famished, long-faced skeletons that tear-jerk commercials shamelessly ask you to donate money to. Sapphire dice earbobs dangle from her ears—real ones, so no definitely not poor. She moves her gold-rimmed sunglasses up so they perch atop her head revealing green cat-shaped eyes. As she moves in, the air thickens with a strange palpable tension. Being near her is almost a bit too much.