Something I started writing.  Think of it as a prelude.  Other parts will
get done... when they get done.

CoF and other projects (except the AMG fic) are on hold.  I'll get to
them... sometime.

C&C will be appreciated.  I'm not subscribed to the list, so please send
your responses to suh1@uiuc.edu

= = =

I guess it started when Kojiro, Ryo and I escaped while enroute to Nerima
in that patrol car.

You know, Nerima, the detention center for juveniles in the Nerima ward,
one of those boring suburbian wards with the train tracks going through
the middle with rest of the town centered around a 'Ginza' street lined
with cheap shops.

The suburbs.  The pits.  They are like some leeches feeding off of
downtown Tokyo.  Then again...  Tokyo sucks the money back from 'em, you
know, from the salary men and the office ladies.

Downtown Tokyo, now that's where the action is. 

Well, I do know that all the chicks from the suburbs flock to the clubs in
the Tokyo nightspots like the Roppongi, looking to drink and score,
although... I haven't gone to them, yet. 

Back to Nerima.

Yeah, well, me and my buddies from then knew about Nerima, the detention
center, pretty well.  We heard from soldiers for the local Yakuza, who had
to spend couple months there when they were our age, not that it changed
'em for the better.

We were pretty confident before we got arrested.  We thought we were
clever to evade the neighborhood police.  I mean, think about those
dimwits.  All they did was act stiff and go by their books and
regulations.  Crap to all their freaking honor and glory for catching
'criminals.'  They couldn't and wouldn't anyway.  The big Yakuza rings
always weathered through the police.

Well, it was pretty easy to steal motorcycles from the start.  All it took
was a handy screwdriver and some knowhow with the ignition.  Ryo and
Kojiro took care of that.  I'd scope out some parking places, watch out
for people and stuff.

We'd vary where we struck next so the cops wouldn't catch up to us.  At
first, the motorcycles we took were the cheap kinds.  Some were even
mopeds.  We'd have some joyriding around, raise hell here and there, just
like out of Akira.  Gawd, I love that anime.

Kojiro didn't really like the joyriding though.  He said that kind of
'ruckus' would get the cops onto us, so eventually it stopped, since the
local cops did start scoping us out.  We had to lay low for a while.

Kojiro had a better idea with the motorcycles.  He had connections with
some Chosenjin, though he wasn't really keen about telling us that.  Later
I learned he was one of 'em himself, the phony.  Well, the ones he knew
owned a couple sub-contractor works, dealing in spare parts and stuff.
They're out of buisness now, with the economy so bad these days.

That was just about all they could do for a living, other than running
mom-pop shops, take-outs, pachinko parlors and shit like that.  Dirty
Chosenjin.  They should all go back to where they came from.

So 'Kojiro' had a plan where we'd sell the motorcycles to them.  They'd
rip up the bikes for parts, give an estimate and pay us in cash.  Seemed
like the perfect plan to me, to us. 

Ryo, Kojiro and I pretty much started stealing bikes after school.  Well,
school was crap.  I didn't give a damn about it, so I got into trouble
with the fucking teachers.  It was the same with Ryo... but Kojiro
'seemed' to keep in line inside the classroom.  All our grades were bad
though, and we didn't really give a care. 

My parents nagged me, of course.  All that babble about learning and
improving yourself was bullshit.  They owned a small sushi bar, and after
graduating high school, they'd have expected me to take over it.  I mean,
who'd want to slice squid and fish for the rest of his life to some drunk
salary men? 

Well, I guess out of the three of us, Kojiro was the smartest.  Next came
me, then Ryo.  Ryo was a big guy, pretty tall for his age of seventeen. 
He was into leather jackets like the cool bike gangs wore.  His hair
shined like some slick chrome plated metal from all the mousse he used. 
Ryo spent most of his share of the money on those things, trying to look
cool.  When he wasn't out stealing with us, he hung out with the Nippon
Eagles, the local bike gang, smoking reefers and roaming around.

Kojiro was mostly silent, you know, the 'introspective' type.  He wasn't
too short or too tall, just the fitting average height.  He looked plain,
unassuming.  For some reason he had all his pimples on his back, instead
on his face, like me.  I thought that was strange. 

Kojiro acted like an accountant sometimes, dividing the money and stuff. 
I never figured out what he spent it on though.  I figured he stashed it
somewhere safe.  Other than that, he was cool.  Real relaxed outside, but
tense underneath.  Dirty, trickster Chosenjin.  A real vulture. 

Me?  Well, I mostly spent my share on either pot or shabu.  I'd go to my
contact with the Yakuza, a street soldier named Araki.  It was his job to
sell and push shabu to people around the area.  You know, the bored
housewives, the school kids looking for fun, the overworked salarymen who
really needed it to keep awake, etc. 

Araki wasn't pretty smart though.  It seemed like he'd screw up a lot of
times whenever his boss made him do something important.  He always looked
cagey.  You know, jumpy all the time.  I've seen people like that when
they were too high from shabu.

Oh I didn't take too much of shabu.  I could quit the stuff anytime,
really.  I just liked the buzz when I was high.  Other than that, I spent
rest of my money on games and anime, not the sickly cutsy ones like that
Pretty Sami girl or Sailor Moon, but the ones with action and guns in 'em. 
You know, like Gunnm, GunSmith Cats, and yes, my favorite, Akira.

Well, after a while the police started cracking down in the area pretty
hard.  We were making some serious money, while the Chosenjin
sub-contractors made *more* serious money from the parts.  I was spending
most of my money on shabu, since the Yakuza decided to hike the prices. 
That was just before the bubble burst. 

I like shabu.  I'd like to stay high, you know.  For me, with a certain
amount of shabu, you are aware of everything and ready for anything.  It
just pushes all the worries behind.  It prepares you for anything. 
Anything.  It's always helped me keep my cool.

Well, the police finally caught us after some guy from Nippon Eagle tipped
them off.  Ryo was bragging about our operation to his 'buddies' in Nippon
Eagle, and one member started pushing and shoving him around, screaming
that his girl's bike was stolen by us.  It might've been true.  We were
snatching pricy bikes by then, ones with the anti-theft devices in the
ignition. 

It was the night after that when the cops caught us redhanded.  Ryo was
crying like a baby, while Kojiro and I were frightened, but keeping our
cool.

It got pretty bad in the police station.

They gave us the usual spiel for the first timers.  Name, date of birth,
home address, blah, blah, blah.  Then... they said how we'll have the red
mark on our files for the rest of our lives -- why our descendants will
have the red mark as a 'security measure.'  This was when I found out
Kojiro was Chosenjin.  A couple police officers were talking to him,
saying he was in bigger trouble than Ryo or me.  Because he was Chosenjin. 
Yeah.

The rest, well.  They took our finger prints and photos.  Then we were
given individual interrogations.

I'm not going to say anything about that.  All I'll say is... what the
oyabun told me, years later.  "Everyone has a weakness.  Once you enter
your first interrogation, you'll find out."

After that, we were taken to the temporary cell, where the drunks, misfits
and petty burglars were held overnight. 

Ryo wanted his mother.  The big wussy.  I didn't give a damn.  The last
person on Earth I wanted to see was my mother.  I knew how she'd react. 
Kojiro... Kojiro looked like his usual self, mute and cool, but I knew
better.  His fists were clenched so tight that I thought his veins would
burst. 

We spent the night in the cell.  The drunks puking their guts out didn't
help much.

It was the next day when the cops escorted us one by one to meet our
parents.

It didn't go so well.  They said the same babble, but with much more
intensity and bitterness. 

After that, I caught a glimpse of Kojiro being led to an isolated cell. 
He looked like a robot.  I didn't know where Ryo was.  I was also put in
an isolation cell.  The cops told me that a government case worker will
come by later and talk with me. 

The case worker came several hours afterwards.  He had talked with my
parents and said I'd be going to Nerima.

Nerima, the juvenile detention center.