Why Does Everyone Think I'm Crazy?
Several hours had passed, and now the time was approaching 10.
I sat reflectingly on my bed, just peering at my phone. I had really done it now.
A week ago, if you had told me I would be scheduling a meeting with a black-market broker, I would have scoffed and laughed.
Me, little old me, surely not. Alas, this was my reality now.
It was something that had happened in a flash, something so unexpected.
'Guess this is my reality now.'
I checked the time. Currently 9:30pm that meant I had 30 minutes to get to the designated location of the broker.
'Time really does move fast when you are in a pinch.'
Grabbing my brown backpack, I placed my mask inside. To walk around with such a thing would be nothing short of madness.
Like hey people, looky look. I've got a Halloween mask on in the middle of the night, I'm totally not suspicious.
Although, now that I thought about it, the notion of wearing a full-blown mask in the middle of the night did seem pretty fun and enticing.
'Let's calm down, not right now. There is a time and place.'
The next thing on the checkbox, was preparing a weapon.
Though hard to accept, I was in the body of what seemed to be an 17-18 year old girl, and was about to walk into a dark dingy alley.
The broker didn't know my identity, so the odds that he would be a lunatic psycho weren't too high, but they weren't 0.
It would be better to be safe than sorry.
My face was quite pretty, and dubious people doing dubious things wasn't the most out of the world concept.
I rummaged through my room, eyes scanning for anything that could be classified as a weapon without being too obvious.
I didn’t exactly have a sword rack or a concealed firearm lying around. What I did have however, was household items.
I opened my desk drawer. There were just pens, USB sticks and a half-eaten protein bar that had seen better days.
No.
Knives were an option, but carrying a kitchen knife through public transport screamed arrest me immediately.
I briefly considered a rolling pin, because blunt force trauma was still trauma, but decided that showing up to a meet wielding a baking tool would not inspire confidence.
Eventually, my search led me to underneath my bed.
There wasn't much there just old gum wrappers, displaced shoes and other fast food garbage that I hadn't cleaned up.
Just as I was about to get up, I saw something. In the corner of the bed, by the bedpost was a silver link chain.
It wasn’t huge, but it had weight. The kind that sat in your hand and made you think, yeah, this could hurt somebody.
It had originally been a stupid fashion accessory I bought during a high-school phase.
I thought I was the type of person who could pull off the edgy streetwear look, so I bought the chain.
Turns out It didn't look as good on me as I had imaged.
Luckily, the chain had survived my embarrassing days, waiting to be used for a moment like this.
"Today is your lucky day chain. You get the privileged honour of being my weapon of choice. Rejoice, Sir Chainrich your lord and Ki- I mean Queen has provided you the great honour of serving her."
The gender thing was kind of awkward, would get taking used too.
But hey, I was talking to a chain, so maybe I had bigger problems to deal with.
Lifting the chain, I let it drape across my palm, giving it a small swing to test the weight.
The links clinked softly, a clean metallic sound that made my nerves spike a little.
For some reason, my fingertips tingled.
I frowned.
“…Of course,” I muttered. “Even my weapon choice has synergy now. Hahahaha!”
How could I forget the conductive properties of silver.
If I could somehow find out how to imbue my electric powers into the chain, couldn't I effectively make a stun tool.
This could also provide as a potential weapon for taking on the gates.
I wrapped it around my hand once, not tight enough to cut off circulation, just enough to make sure it wouldn’t fly out of my grip if I panicked, then dropped it into my backpack next to the mask.
It wasn’t a sword or a gun, nor was it even remotely heroic.
But it was something.
And right now, something could be the difference between mildly prepared and being a future missing person.
"Sorry Mr.Broker, I'm sure you're not a bad guy, but a girls got to be safe you know."
Having picked up my weapon of choice, I scrunched up my hair, placing it inside of a beanie.
It looked really stupid, but it would hide my blue hair from the broker...probably.
Grabbing a pair of shades as well my look was finally complete.
"At this point the mask might not even be necessary."
The mirror reflected a very dubious and sketchy looking individual, but it was something that could be simply thrown off to be quirky, compared to the masks 'I am a criminal look.'
With the hood up and glasses on combined with the tucked away hair, I gave the impression of a tired-looking girl with dark clothes and poor decision-making skills.
“Perfect,” I said quietly. “I look nothing like myself, disguise 1 complete. I shall dub it the depressed hikikomori .”
***
The city at night felt different when walking with intent. The wind felt cooler, footsteps louder and yet the night felt solemn.
The feeling was different to the thoughtless wandering or monotonous cycle of the daily commuting.
Every sound seemed sharper. The hum of distant traffic, the echo of footsteps, the occasional laugh drifting out of a bar as people enjoyed a night I was absolutely not part of.
Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows that stretched and warped across the pavement like they were trying to trip me.
I checked the time again.
9:41 p.m.
Plenty of time.
I made my way to the East Tokyo bay train station. The station was huge beyond belief.
The floor was a marble crystal with a recently refurbished look, the walls sleek and modern, properly representing the authority of the station.
The sheer expanse of it stretched out for what felt like two hundred metres, making me feel smaller than I already did.
"It's been a while since I've been here."
Paying for my ticket, I boarded the train to Ekram Station. The ride wouldn’t be too long, roughly about ten minutes.
I took a seat near the middle of the carriage and immediately became aware of two things.
One, the train was quiet in that late-evening way where everyone pretends they’re alone even though they very much weren’t.
Two, I looked insane.
With my hoodie pulled up, sunglasses still on, and my hair stuffed awkwardly under a beanie that absolutely was not designed to hold this much volume, the top of my head formed a strange unmistakably pointy silhouette.
The hat didn’t sit flat instead rising, like a badly concealed traffic cone.
I crossed my arms and stared straight ahead. 'Just look confident and nobody will realise.'
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a salaryman sitting across from me.
He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a neat suit with a briefcase resting politely between his feet. He glanced at me once, looked away, then glanced again, slower this time.
His brow furrowed.
I could feel the questions forming in his head.
Why is she wearing sunglasses indoors?
Why is her head shaped like that?
Is this a TikTok thing?
He looked at my hat again. Then my glasses.
Then my hoodie.
Then back to my hat.
'Alright, enough!'
I turned my head slowly toward him and tilted it just enough to acknowledge his existence.
“Got a problem, Bob?” I said, putting on the thickest, most exaggerated soprano accent I could manage.
The effect was immediate.
The man nearly jumped out of his seat.
“N–no! No problem!” he said quickly, waving his hands like I’d just accused him of a crime. “Just—just waiting for my stop!”
“Good,” I replied coolly, nodding once. “I didn’t think so.”
I turned back around and stared at the window, heart pounding, absolutely convinced I had just shaved ten years off that man’s life expectancy.
The carriage fell into a very intense silence.
A few seconds passed. Then the train chimed.
Ping.
“Next stop, Ekram Station.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “Cool.”
I stood up, adjusted my backpack, and shuffled toward the doors, resisting the urge to look back.
As I stepped off the train, I could practically feel the salaryman’s relief radiating behind me.
The doors slid shut. The train pulled away.
And just like that, I was alone again.
Ekram Station was smaller than East Tokyo Bay, older too, with dimmer lighting and a layout that felt more functional than welcoming.
The platform was mostly empty, save for a couple of people keeping very much to themselves.
I checked the time.
9:53 p.m.
Seven minutes to spare.
Plenty of time to regret my decisions.
I exited the station and followed the directions Barascuda had given me, moving deeper into the quieter streets where the buildings grew closer together and the city seemed to forget itself.
Somewhere ahead, tucked between concrete and shadow, Ekram Alley was waiting.
And so was the person I’d just agreed to trust.
I pulled my hood tighter, steadied my breathing, and kept walking, before pausing at a small shop that was just about to close for the night.
A woman was currently cleaning tending to the floor of the place. The bell chimed as I walked into the store.
"Sorry, we are clos-"
The woman paused halfway, staring at me with a look of confusion and bewilderment.
The eye contact lasted for around 10 seconds before she continued.
"Errr, like I was saying we.. we are closed right now!"
'Well duh, I figured that out when you were cleaning the store', I thought.
Putting on my most innocent voice I answered the woman.
"I was just wondering if I could use your bathroom really quickly. I desperately need the toilet, pretty please?"
The woman doubled back at me with an odd look, staring at my backpack.
"Little girl, drugs are not allowed in this establishment."
"DRUGS!", I responded my facade disappearing within an instant.
“No! Absolutely not! I might take paracetamol here and there but I'm not a drug abuser!”
That… came out wrong.
The woman squinted at me harder, her gaze flicking between my hoodie, my backpack, my sunglasses, and then—unfortunately—back to my backpack.
“You look like trouble,” she said flatly.
'She thinks I'm a drug abuser.'
Well I could sort of get the angle that she was coming from, but drugs seriously.
I knew that I looked rather unconventional but wasn't she taking things too far.
“Don't judge a book by it's cover okay” I corrected. “I'll have you know that I'm a very upstanding citizen.”
She crossed her arms.
“And why does this totally not dubious, upstanding citizen need the bathroom so badly?” she asked.
'Because I’m about to meet a black-market broker in an alley and my fight-or-flight response is doing laps', I thought.
Instead, I pressed a hand to my stomach and leaned forward slightly.
“Because if I don’t get to a toilet in the next two minutes,” I said, lowering my voice, “this conversation is going to become everyone’s problem.”
Her face twitched.
That had clearly crossed from suspicion into territory she did not want to explore.
“…You’re not selling anything,” she said cautiously.
“No.”
“You’re not hiding anything illegal.”
“No.”
“That bag isn’t full of drugs.”
“It is full of bad decisions and emotional baggage,” I said honestly. “But no drugs.”
She stared at me for a long second.
Then she sighed, the kind of sigh only retail workers who had seen everything could produce.
“Bathroom’s in the back,” she muttered. “One minute. And if you steal anything, I will personally call the police.”
“Understood,” I said immediately, nodding far too enthusiastically. “I respect authority.”
She pointed with the mop.
“Back door. Left.”
I hurried past her before she could change her mind, and ducked into the bathroom.
The moment I was alone, I leaned against the sink and exhaled.
"Alright time for the second phase. Disguise 2. The masked thug!"
Taking of the sunglasses, I opened the bag and put the black halloween mask on, before putting the sunglasses back on.
My second disguise was finally ready, It was time for action. With my attire ready, I walked out of the shop restroom.
The woman was still mopping, trying very hard not to look at me.
“Thank you for the hospitality ,” I said sincerely.
She glanced up, paused, brows creased downwards as if gravity itself was pulling them down.
Her mouth was open in a stupor.
'I wonder if she's okay.?'
I gave a simple goodbye gesture, then walked out of the shop.
