The Beginning

6.8K 108 1
                                    

- The Beginning -

For the next few weeks, it was largely the same. I had found a cheap hostel that's more like a house with a cramped damp, moldy smelling room to stay in, far in the outskirts of the city. It's a kind of quiet, homely place that speaks of poverty more than comfort. Most people wouldn't realize there's a hostel on the street because it is so out of the way.

I wake up in the mornings at seven thirty, listen to jazz, do exercises and head down to the common room. A fourteen year-old girl and her mother who runs the place would prepare breakfast for the guests. On some days it would be a simple English breakfast and others maybe rice porridge, salted mackerel, omelet. The hostel only had four other guests and half of them would sleep in or stay out often. Two of them were foreign students on exchange from Canada studying international relations. The other two were local businessmen on a budget. On occasions, we would try to converse in English if we had a chance. But for the most part, it was an exchange of greetings before rushing out for the rest of the day.

On the news at night, there was a constant mention of new demonstrations led by the Cause. The major stations of the JR Yamanote train line had been occupied at one time for seemingly no purpose. Tokyo, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, Akihabara. When the police intervened, there was a violent clash resulting in injuries and two deaths. At this point, the government was to make a statement and issued a stricter policy against aggressive protests. However, it was also a backhanded strike on the anti-Cause opposition who had learn to become more outspoken and assertive themselves. The cases didn't stop there however. In fact it grew worse. It scattered activity into random acts of violence and harassment. There were propagandist posters and hacking all over the city and the internet. One high school girl was reportedly raped and beaten by nine boys dressed in the attire of the Cause. She committed suicide not too long after. They were arrested and discovered to have no real relation with the movement, which began to reveal another surfacing issue of what or who was authentic. There doesn't seem to be any official leadership over the Cause that could make any claims or maintain any stances. Their membership seemed to grow exponentially, yet no one knows for sure what their ideals or objectives are. Each individual or faction would essentially do whatever they saw fit. And no one really cared. Sure, there might be a deep nauseating feeling in the gut when something incredibly wrong occurs but as long as they weren't caught up in the middle of a scene, they would be fine. Worse, I didn't care either. They had a cycle and stability to maintain. So did I.

Perhaps it was because I had my own share of tiresome things to worry about. I had quit my old part time job already, so savings dwindled like a dish of water left out in the scorching sun. For some reason, in terms of searching for a new job, I was out of luck – nothing seemed to be hiring. The market had suddenly dried up and shut its doors. It could be the fear of accidentally hiring members of the Cause. But members of the Cause probably wouldn't go undercover, without their rigid ironed suits.

Every day, I continue to await new messages arriving or a call or something, but nothing came. My phone was entirely silent. No sign of the Fox. I got on the internet a few times, searching and browsing social media websites, finding nothing. Our picture had long since disappeared and I wasn't about to dig around for it again. Soon, New Year's had passed with the Kouhaku and without Shizuka and January was almost over. On the trees, flowers were beginning to bloom. They bloomed slow and arduous, like they were struggling against some unseen force. It was still much too cold but there they were, blooming. Of course no one else could notice it but me.

Shirayuki was still there right beside me, sometimes wandering off to look at something but always back to pipe in and make snarky comments. Those, I ignore in the presence of others. She wanted to befriend the fourteen year old girl, but there was no way for her to communicate. At times, I had to ask a few questions on her behalf, which proved to be awkward.

Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014Where stories live. Discover now