Chapter Text
“This isn’t him. Chinyan doesn’t really love him. I know it. It’s just a phase!”
Lisa slurped the Adderall from her hand mirror, her tongue a pink, veinous slug leaving a mucous trail of spit and powder in its wake. The drug revved her up, accelerating her speech, intensifying her gestures, honing her focus into a laser-point upon the youth Lisa called ‘Chinyan’ sitting beyond them.
To Miyazaki, this ‘Chinyan’ was just another punk. Maybe, he was tall, had a flowing crown of hair and had that perennial angsty glare that enchanted girls. But behind that glare was a vacuum; the secret depths that it promised were a lie. Meanwhile, Miyazaki still had hair that combed over, veritable phonebooks of wisdom from his fifty-five years of living, and enough cash to deify Lisa - and still she fawned over some loser.
Usually, Lisa dreaded the thought of the creeps from compensated dating invading her private world, but the Adderall had purged all doubts. Besides, she was sick of venting to her cats, their only consolation a moronic, dead-eyed stare. And Miyazaki would never try anything, lest he jeopardise his chances of getting into her pants.
“I’m the hottest and most popular girl in school. And he’s the hottest and most popular guy in school. It’s, like, a law of nature that we have to date. So why-” Lisa aborted her complaint to unscrew another Adderall capsule and pour its contents onto her mirror.
Miyazaki picked at his shirt, sweat gluing the near-translucent fabric so tightly to his flesh that it looked like he was peeling off a layer of dead skin. When he’d given Lisa offerings of Adderall, he’d expected, per narcotic etiquette, that she’d leave some for him; yet she’d already lapped up all four pills with her (lovely) tongue without so much as an arigato. Anything less than coke was probably insulting to the spoilt gaijin bitch.
Lucky for her he hadn’t gone with Plan A: spiking her Adderall with roofies. Instead, he’d tried Plan B: diplomacy. He’d let her decide where they went, thinking at worst he’d have to suffer through some karaoke sessions or a kung-fu flick. Then, grateful for his benevolence, she’d reimburse him with her body. Now, squatting behind a bush in Aoba Park, the knees of his Armani pants soiled with grass and mud, earthworms and termites wriggling beneath his fingers, he cursed himself for abandoning Plan A. He drifted out of his brooding to find that Lisa was still blathering on.
“Kehhei! At first, I was like, ok, someday I’ll be such an awesome catch he won’t be able to say no to me… But it’s been a whole year now and nothing! And he’s graduating at the end of the year! What if… What if I never see him again!”
Miyazaki was at last aroused by something in this miserable stakeout. Next to Lisa’s obsession sat a short-haired girl, her face as lovely and delicate as the golden flower nestled behind her ear. Her waxen flesh, accentuated by her black sailor uniform, almost glowed in the moonlight. Miyazaki’s eidetic categorization of student uniforms, a result of his pastime ogling schoolgirls, identified her as attending Seven Sisters High School. Miyazaki thought he’d leered at every delicious pubescent thing in that school, but he’d never seen a girl with such an intoxicating innocence. In fact (though he dared not confess it), cynical, sultry Lisa was dull by comparison.
“Goddam! Who’s that?” Miyazaki whispered as he splattered a mosquito across his neck.
Lisa glared at him with pupils dilated into dagger points.
“He, is Jun. And you, are gay.”
Undeterred, Miyazaki continued mentally undressing the cross-dresser. Miyazaki, though a conservative regarding politics and economics, was an anarchist when it came to his penis. An artery began to visibly throb in Lisa’s temple.
“Is she… uh… Is he into compensated dating?”
Realising what he’d just implied, Miyazaki laughed it off as a joke. Lisa scoffed and turned away. In the ensuing silence, only the chorus of cicadas and the passage of nearby cars were audible. Rage clogged Miyazaki’s heart like cholesterol.
“What the fuck is up your ass tonight?” He snarled. “I give you money, I give you drugs, I even let you do whatever you want, and all I hear is bitch, bitch, bitch! If I’d wanted this bullshit-” Spit flecked into Lisa’s eye “-I’d just get it for free from my wife!”
The blast of hot breath against her face ripped Lisa from her Chinyan-induced trance. Suddenly Lisa the stalker, Lisa the bitter was Lisa the giggling airhead once more.
“Sowwwy.” She clasped her hands before her face, flashing a cheeky grin to remind Miyazaki she was just a ditzy girl who didn’t know no better. “I’ll be good, I promise! Then we’ll go to a club and after I’ll-”
“Who needs a club?” Miyazaki pressed himself against Lisa’s body, suffocating her with his cologne. “We got our own little club right here.”
He nuzzled into her neck, tongue licking up the salt from her skin just as hers had lapped up the Adderall. Lisa cringed. To her, it felt as if some tentacled sea-beast was suctioning her neck. One of his hands began to knead her breast, the other pulled her hand towards his crotch. When her fingers grazed the pulsating tent in his pants, she recoiled.
“Aiyah! I said I’m not ready for that yet!” Lisa elbowed him away.
“Please… I’ve paid for three dates, and not so much as a handjob?” As his indignation resurfaced, his whine exploded into a howl. “Whaddya think I’m paying you for, your fucking personality!”
This creep was going to draw Chinyan’s attention with all his bitching. Lisa had to shut him up. Quick.
“I’ve been such a bad girl to you.” She breathed into his ear, hand inching towards his crotch. “But I can give you a very special apology…”
Just as she was about to grasp the beast, her hand shot up into the air. Forming her fingers into a blade, she launched her hand downwards.
(To illustrate what happened next, imagine a Kung-fu Master breaking a brick in half with a single strike. Now imagine that brick is Miyazaki’s penis).
Lisa had expected the scene to play out like one of her action movies: Miyazaki collapsing with little more than a groan, shock rendering him instantly unconscious. Instead, he clutched his mangled cock and shrieked, head wrenched back so painfully it looked like it had been severed from his neck.
Now, Lisa thought, I’m fucked.