The Lycanthrope Club - An American Werewolf in Japan, Chapter III

Junko hurried down the empty school corridor. Her rapid footsteps echoed loudly throughout the long hallway. She turned a corner and nearly collided with a male student who had been lingering on the other side, staring down at his phone. She didn't stop but instead whirled around and, jogging backwards, issued a frantic apology to the bemused student before turning and continuing down the hall. There were a few other students ahead of her. All turned and gave Junko curious or disapproving looks as she sped past but she ignored them. At last she reached the end of the second hallway. She slowed down and stopped next to a door. A sign posted next to the door read 'gymnasium.' Junko took a deep breath, nudged the door open and peered inside.

The gymnasium was brightly lit from outside by large windows on the walls and powerful lights overhead. It spanned two floors and was large enough to accommodate two basketball courts, which were clearly demarcated in glossy red and green lines on the shiny laminated wooden floor. The courts were occupied by groups of students practicing kendo, most of who were sitting on black mats; a few were leaning against the walls. Many of them wore kendo bōgu though some were just wearing their school uniforms. No-one noticed her arrival; all were watching, adjudicating or participating in kendo matches. Apart for intermittent clatter of shinai and rustle of thick robes, all was silent. Junko scanned the crowd and spotted Taro for standing near the wall to her right. Apart from his helmet he was dressed in full kendo bōgu. She quickly but quietly hurried over to him.

"Taro-kun," she softly. "Sorry I'm late."

"What?" said Taro distractedly, tearing his gaze away from the match he was watching. "Oh, uh, I didn't know you'd be coming."

"I didn't want to miss Masae-sempai's matches," said Junko.

"They're just practice bouts," said Taro, shrugging. 

"Well, that, and I want to show you two something," said Junko, digging into her coat pocket. She took out her cell phone and opened a web browser. "There's this news article about a body they found floating in the river in Kuwana today," she said, pointing at the screen.

"A body?" hissed Taro, a bit too loudly. A few of the other students glanced over at him. He blushed and went silent. 

"Yes, a body," said Junko, not noticing or ignoring his faux pas. "They say it was probably a drowning victim and haven't identified the person yet. It's a short article so there's not a lot of information but look here." She pointed at the article's text. "It says the body was found wearing a fancy blue suit and a white shirt. Sound familiar?"

Taro considered this for a time. 

"Er...wait, are you saying it was...that man?" he said slowly.

"Could be," said Junko. 

"So, he's dead?" said Taro, swallowing. 

"I guess. Maybe. If so, can't say I'm surprised," said Junko. "Still..." she shivered. "Where's Masae-sempai?" she asked, looking around.

"She's up against Kudo Hanako," said Taro, gesturing at the bout in front of them. "She's doing very well today. More so than usual. She hasn't lost a single match. Not even Sano-sempai could touch her."

"Really?" said Junko, wide-eyed. She turned to look at the match. Even with their thick protective gear Junko was easily able to pick out Masae; she was taller than most of the boys, let alone the girls. Her opponent - Hanako - wasn't exactly short either but Masae still stood a good couple decimeters taller. The two were slowly inching back and forth, shinai raised and ready to strike. Suddenly, Hanako lifted her weapon to strike. There was a flash of motion followed by a sharp clack. Hanako bounced back holding her shinai in a guard pose but the judge had already ruled in Masae's favor. The match apparently over, the Masae removed her helmet and adjusted her glasses. Hanako walked over to one of the mats and took a seat, taking off her helmet as well once settled. '

"That was...fast," said Junko, amazed.

"I know," said Taro. "Like I said, she's doing very well."

Masae circumnavigated the row of mats and started moving towards them. One of the other kendo club members looked at her questioningly as she walked past. Junko heard Masae mutter something about getting some water. The other student nodded. 

"Hi, Masae-sempai," said Junko as she approached. "Good match!"

Masae said nothing. She looked tired. In fact, there was an almost vacant look on her face. 

"Takahashi-sempai," said Taro, nodding in greeting.

Still silent, indeed, barely acknowledging their presence or greeting, Masae marched past them, opened the door leading to the hallway, walked through it, and left. Junko and Taro stared at the door, then each other.

"Uh, did I say something that offended her?" asked Taro nervously. 

Junko shook her head.

"N-No, I don't think so," she said. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I...maybe she felt the match went poorly," said Taro weakly. 

"Um, maybe," said Junko doubtfully. Then, a thought occurred to her. "Do you think it's...that?" she whispered.

"Huh?"

"You know...that?" 

"I, uh."

"The...remember the alley?"

"Oh, ah, that," said Taro.

"We should go talk to her," said Junko, glancing at the door.

"I-I can't go," said Taro, lowering his head. "My match is up next."

"I'll go then," said Junko. 

"Um, alright. Be careful," said Taro.

"Be careful?" said Junko, amused. "It's Masae-sempai."

"I know, but, well, remember the alley?" said Taro miserably. "She might not be herself." He paused and gave Junko a strange look. "You might not be yourself."

Junko's smile faded. Without saying another word she turned and quietly exited the gymnasium.

The hallway was dim and empty but Junko could make out footsteps coming from down the hall. She hurried towards them. Ahead, Junko saw the door to the girls locker room swing shut.

"Masae-sempai," she whispered under her breath. Now feeling a touch of trepidation, Junko walked over to the door, took a deep breath, and entered the locker room.

It was even darker inside the locker room. Masae was standing next to a row of footlockers, still wearing her bōgu. The dull matt black of her outfit and hair contrasted eerily with the glossy white surface of the lockers. She didn't appear to be doing anything.

"Hello," said Junko, forcing a smile. "I, uh," he mind raced. Then, she remembered the news article. "I wanted to show you something I found," she said, dipping into her coat pocket. "It's this-"

Masae screamed and punched the row of lockers. A loud clang resounded throughout the room. Junko shrieked and leapt back colliding with the wall. Masae didn't move her hand, keeping it pressed up against the locker.

"Shut! Up!" growled Masae in the following silence. "Shut up. If you say another word I won't hit the lockers this time."

To say Junko was shocked would be an understatement. She shuffled away from Masae and glanced trembling at the exit. 

"Don't think I forgot what you did," continued Masae, finally lowering her hand. "You strangled me in that alley."

"I-I-I'm sorry, Masae-sempai!" blurted Junko. She covered her mouth. Masae turned and glared at her but did not do anything else. 

"I've been thinking about it since practice started," said Masae angrily. "I can't get it out of my head. You ungrateful little bitch! How dare you lay a hand on me! Gah!" She turned to face Junko directly. "Why is everyone so...so stupid? Why do I..." she trailed off with a snort.

Silence followed. Absolute silence. Junko didn't even dare breathe.

"It took...everything I had," hissed Masae. "Everything I had to stay calm during the matches. I wanted to..." her voice dropped to a whisper. "A part of me wanted a real sword so I could..."

Then, Masae voice cracked. Junko saw her enraged expression sort of melt away. Masae slowly backed into the lockers, slid down to her knees and slumped over. Her long black hair drooped down, obscuring her face.

"Wha-...?" whispered Junko, scared and confused. "A-Are you..." Junko stopped. Of course she wasn't alright. Her mind flashed back to the incident in the alley. She recalled the anger - the deep, seething, irrational anger she had felt when Masae insulted her. 

"This isn't you, Masae-sempai," she said softly. "And it isn't your fault. It's this...this sickness."

Masae looked up at her. For a moment Junko thought she saw the telltale glitter of a tear. 

"No," intoned Masae, her voice quivering. "It's-"

Something started beeping. Junko hurriedly reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone to silence it but froze when she saw the text.

"Masae-sempai," said Junko. "I-I just got a text in English."

"Huh?" 

Junko hesitated for a moment, but then knelt to the floor and showed Masae her phone.

"I don't recognize this number," said Junko.  

"So, what does it say?" said Masae with a sort of indifferent, tired irritation.

Heart racing, Junko tapped the text message.

"'Have you gone to the police?'" she read. She looked up at Masae, eyes wide."Do you think it's..." whispered Junko.

"It has to be," breathed Masae, mouth agape.  

"Well, w-what should I do? Should I reply?"

"Yes, of course!" barked Masae. "Say we haven't gone." Masae hesitated. "No, wait."

"What?" said Junko.

"What if they come for us?" said Masae. "What if it isn't...whatever that thing was?"

"Er...good point," said Junko, gulping.

"I have it," said Masae after a moment's thought. "We...we ask whoever's calling to prove they aren't with...them."

"Them?"

"The organization that man in suit belonged to," snapped Masae. "Ask the person where they put my glasses."

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah! Good idea!"

Junko frantically tapped away on her phone. She had to stop midway to erase what she had typed and retype it in English. 

"Hurry up!" said Masae.

"Okay, got it!" said Junko, tapping the send icon. 

The two high schools sat there huddled in the dark, waiting for a response. It came quicker than either of them had expected.

"'In your...coat pocket,'" read Junko slowly.

Masae stared into space.

"Then it was that creature," she whispered. There was another beep.

"It's asking us if we went to the police again," said Junko. "What should I say?"

"Tell it we haven't," said Masae. "And ask it what it did to us!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Junko, nodding. She started typing the message. "Er, sorry this takes so long. I have to change it to English characters and I'm not used to using them on my phone."

"Just get it done," said Masae levelly.

"And...there, sent," said Junko. "I wonder why it's calling me and not all of us. Does it know who I am?"

"We put our phones in the lockers and muted them," said Masae, gesturing around the room. "It probably did text all of us at first."

"Oh, yeah," said Junko. 

Seconds ticked by. Her phone remained silent. 

"Come on, come on," said Masae impatiently. 

Finally, the phone beeped. Another text appeared. This one was long.

"Er..." began Junko, clearing her throat. "'I am sorry you got...caught up in this. I want to help you but I have to stay hidden for now. I will come to help you...' I don't know this word," said Junko apologetically. "...'Until then you will have to...stay low?' I think it means we shouldn't draw attention to ourselves."

"Did it say what it did to us?" probed Masae.

"No, I don-" there was beep. "Another text," said Junko. "It says 'I did what I had to do to save your lives. You have probably already...noticed that you heal very fast now. Keep this a secret.'" Junko paused. "It's talking about how our gun wounds went away! I'm going to ask it why we keep getting so angry for no reason."

"Do it," said Masae grimly.

Junko composed the text and hit send. 

"'I cannot help you with that,'" read Junko, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. "'It is a common...' I think this word means empathy? No...symptom! 'It is a common symptom of the change.'" Junko looked up. "Change?" she said uneasily. "What do you think it means by that?"

"Just ask it," said Masae.

"Oh, right," said Junko, smiling foolishly. It took nearly a minute for the reply to come this time. When it did, Junko scanned the text. Her mouth slowly opened in astonishment as she read. She wondered whether - indeed, hoped that - she had misinterpreted the message and so re-read it. 

"Well?" said Masae nervously, sensing Junko's apprehension.

"'You cannot tell anybody what I am about to share with you,'" read Junko in a quivering voice. "'Not your friends, family, or any a-...authorities. Knowing this secret will put your lives and their lives in danger. Especially now. I am what people in western...countries call a...werewolf. I do not know if you know this word. My phone says the closest word for it in Japanese is okami otoko.'"

Junko looked up from her phone and stared at Masae. Masae stared back, mirroring her expression - that of astonishment, confusion and fear. Then, as though a spell had been broken, Masae snorted and shook her head, scowling.

"That isn't funny, Junko," she growled.

"I'm not...look!" cried Junko, holding up her phone. 

"Then it must be lying to us!"

"I...I believe it, Masae-sempai! I do! The creature looked like a wolf! And-and the way we healed after getting shot! I know about werewolves."

"No, no, no!" barked Masae. "That's stupid! They're make-believe like oni and kitsune."

"'I bit you to change you into werewolves,'" continued Junko, reading from her phone. "'Werewolves heal very fast and all of you were bleeding badly. I could not call an...an...' I think this word means 'ambulance' ...'and I am not a doctor so all I could do was change you. I am sorry.'"

Masae flinched. She lowered her head, mouth silently moving. 

"'Again, I do not know how much you know about werewolves. The next full moon is in four days. You will change into wolf creatures then. You must get ready.'"

"Get ready?" murmured Masae, shaking her head in disbelief. "What does it mean? D-Don't werewolves go around slaughtering people? I saw them once in a foreign film when I was young."

"I...I think so," whimpered Junko, thinking back to all the old American movies and shows she had seen. Few of them had depicted werewolves in a flattering light. Then, something occurred to her. She looked up, her frightened expression softened slightly. "But it saved us, Masae-sempai," she whispered. "It even talked to us. Maybe they aren't just monsters."

"I...well, did it...ask!" stuttered Masae.

Junko wasn't exactly sure what to ask at first. She entered and erased her reply a few times before finally settling on a message. "Will we...go...insane?" muttered Junko to herself as she entered the text. The two high schoolers held their breath and waited. Seconds ticked by. Then, there was a beep.

"'No,'" read Junko, feeling relief wash over her. "'You will not lose your minds.'" She paused. "'But you will...feel different. It is...' I don't know this word. Masae-sempai?"

"Don't look at me," said Masae. "English is my worst subject."

Frowning, Junko copied the word and used an online translating service. "The word means...complicated."

"That's not encouraging," said Masae.

"There's more," said Junko. "'When the full moon comes you must go deep in a forest or other place where there are no people or cameras. There should be plenty of places north of Inuyama. Bring lots of food. Meat, if you can get it. Enough food to feed ten people.' Ten people? Er...'Bring clothing and water too. You will need to tell your parents something. Lie if you have to.'"

"This is crazy," murmured Masae. "Why do we need all that food?"

"Uh..." Junko swallowed. "I think because...we're going to turn into werewolves that night. With the full moon. T-That's how it works."

"What?" cried Masae. "But what about school?"

"I...that's actually a Saturday, I think."

"Oh, um..." Masae paused, shook her head and grimaced. "That doesn't make it better!" she snapped. 

"Another message," said Junko as her phone beeped once more. "'I know all this sounds crazy but please, don't be afraid. I will come back to help you soon. You will not be able to reach me at this number since it is a...burner phone.' What's a burner phone?" muttered Junko absently. "'I will call you again the day of the full moon. Again, I am sorry for putting you through this. Avoid silver and do not bite or share blood with anyone. I have to go now. Be brave.' W-Wait" protested Junko. "I have more questions!" She started furiously tapping the screen.

"Seriously?" cried Masae as Junko sent a series of frantic texts.

"It can't...it can't just go away!" exclaimed Junko in a near panic. "It has to...I mean, if what it is saying is true then we need its help!"

Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Both girls stared at the text message screen, their anxious faces eerily illuminated by the faint blue glow in the gloom of the locker room.

"I thin-" began Junko.

There was a soft creek from behind. Junko and Masae whirled around, the former yelping in surprise. An ominous figure stood in the open doorway. It was dressed from head to toe in heavy dark armor with a faceless helmet and wielded a long blade. It took a step forward. The door swung shut behind it. It slowly reached up and pulled off its helmet.

"Taro-kun," breathed Junko, relieved.

"Don't spook us like that!" said Masae angrily, rising to her feet. 

"S-Sorry, Takahashi-sempai," said Taro, bowing briskly in apology. "We were wondering if you were ready for your next bout." He paused. "Er, forgive me, but are you all feeling alright?" His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Is it...that?" he queried nervously.

Masae and Junko exchanged glanced. Masae nodded solemnly. 

"Um, Taro-kun," began Junko. "Do you have any plans this Saturday?"

* * * 

Somewhere in a small, dim office - the sort that might be inhabited by a low level secretary - a man paced back and forth. He was of Asian descent and wore a smart, clean tailored dark-blue suit over a white shirt and dark-blue tie. His face was oblong with narrow dark eyes and thin lips. Though his expression seemed composed a telltale sheen of sweat across his brow hinted that not all was going well. Every so often he would glance at one of the two office doors or down at his watch. 

A door swung open. A man - also of Asian descent - shorter than the first wearing a simple black button-down jacket and dark leather pants flanked by two heavyset men entered the office. The heavyset men - both of whom were dressed in tight-fitting black business suits - took up positions at both doors. The oblong faced man bowed low. The short man regarded him with a sort of curious detachment.

"Well, what is it?" said the short man in mild, almost avuncular fashion. He had short black hair that was just starting to turn grey. His face was wrinkly, almost mushy, but his eyes were as dark and hard as obsidian. 

"We've confirmed that the body was Shibusawa," said the oblong faced man, rising. 

"How?' said the short man.

"The usual way," said the oblong faced man. "According to the coroner there wasn't much left of him. They had to confirm the identity of the body by dental records."

"Hmm."

A silence followed. The oblong faced man waited. Every so often his mouth would twitch. The short man finally glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow in a very deliberate way.

"If the coroner is to be believed," continued the oblong faced man. "Shibusawa-san died a very...violent death. A very...strange death. It was as though he were sliced into pieces."

"No bullets?" 

"None."

"Blades, then. Odd."

"Apologies, but...no," said the oblong faced man, wincing slightly when he spoke.

There was silence.

"You said he had been sliced into pieces," said the short man softly. "Is my Japanese that bad?"

"No, not at all," said the oblong faced man quickly. "I read the autopsy myself and, well, it said his wounds were characteristic of an animal attack." He paused. "As though he had been mauled by some great beast."

"Just some stray dogs, then," sniffed the short man. "They must have come across the corpse after his throat was cut."

"I thought that myself," said the oblong faced man. "But according to the autopsy he died from the wounds he sustained from the animal; they weren't post-mortem."

The short man frowned. He took a few, slow steps around the office, pausing every so often to examine a picture hanging on the wall or something on the desk. The oblong faced man took the opportunity to wipe his forehead when the short man wasn't facing him. The heavyset men didn't move an inch. 

"Are you certain?" queried the short man in a firm but quiet voice, still not facing the other.

"Yes, boss. I can show you the autopsy papers if you'd prefer to read them yourself."

"No," said the short man. "This is...interesting. It lends credence to certain whisperings I've heard."

"Whisperings?" said the oblong faced man. The short man gave him a look and he went quiet.

"I didn't think they'd be overseas," continued the short man as though nothing had happened. "To be fair, I thought it was all nonsense. Still might be," he chuckled humorlessly. "The truth will probably be a bit more boring. Still..." His expression suddenly hardened. "What about the American?"

"No sign of her since Shibusawa-san caught her. Er, that's the other strange thing. Just before he gave chase Shibusawa said something like 'I don't believe it' over the phone. And...the way he said it. I'd known Shibusawa for a long time and I...I never heard him sound so scared."

The short man stared into space. 

"Keep looking," he said. "I want her found. Alive, now."

"Alive, yes of course," said the oblong faced man, bowing.

"Spare no expense. Put out her name and face. Watch the airports. I don't want her leaving the country."

"Of course," said the oblong faced man, bowing again.

The short man smiled briefly. On any other face it might have been a warm, fraternal smile. On his face it was disconcerting. Perhaps it was the way his lips caused the wrinkles on his cheeks to bulge and twist. 

"Speaking of Shibusawa, with him dead you will be the new wakagashira, yes?"

"I seems that way, yes," said the oblong faced man, somewhat bemused by the question.

"Hmm." The short man nodded his head to the left and right, lips pursed as though considering something. "Do you believe in ghosts, Hajime?"

Hajime blinked in surprise but quickly regained his composure. 

"No," he said bluntly, shaking his head. "Not really. Dead men are dead, nothing more."

The short man chuckled again.

"Perhaps 'ghosts' is the wrong word," he said. "Tell me, did you wonder how Shibusawa was killed by an American college girl? He was well armed and quite the formidable sort."

Hajime was silent. 

"There... Shibusawa did mention some local high school students," he said at last. "Maybe they managed to overwhelm him. Got lucky."

"Almost forgot about them," murmured the short man. He waved a hand vaguely. "Put out some feelers for them, too. There isn't much information to go on and they are low priority compared to the girl so I'm not expecting results, but see if something comes up. See if anyone saw some high schoolers nearby after the gunshots were reported." He paused. "But no, I doubt they had any direct role in Shibusawa's demise. He was...extremely competent." The short man gave Hajime a look. "I do hope you can fill his shoes."

"I am confident I will," said Hajime firmly.

"Then I must share an interesting little secret, well, rumor," said the short man. "No, call it a warning. That college girl may be...no, sorry, that college girl is far, far more dangerous than she appears."

"So, she's armed? Undercover?"

"Most likely, but that's not the reason to be exercise caution when apprehending her," said the short man. "I will not go into the exact nature why because there are still many conflicting reports and any specific information I give may prove more misleading than helpful. That and, frankly, I do not yet trust you."

Hajime's lips tightened slightly but he did not otherwise react to this.

"I will say this much: When you take her down, hit hard. Do not give her a chance to fight back. I do not care if she does not come back in one piece so long as she is alive." The short man looked directly into Hajime's eyes. "Whether or not you succeed, afterwards, I think you may believe in ghosts, Hajime."