ODE TO THE MURDERED, bonten

01

PART ONE !
the name bonten.

APPARENTLY IT WAS SINFUL to utter the name Bonten among the palpable busy streets, especially of today's Tokyo when night falls and the terror of danger lurks uncrowned and predatory.

a name seldom said publicly but a name that shook the great spine of the city changed after fourteen years of time.

fortunately for you—a twenty-seven year old women who was but an amateur artist with a few riches to your family name—had just entered the refuge of your shared apartment after another tiring day, closing the front door behind you with your heels. a tattered sigh escapes you as you dropped your keys into a bowl nearby and popping three buttons from your buttoned blouse free from its tight embrace on your fabric. you sauntered further into the space, finding your roommate lounging on the couch, the large screen of your television playing today's news as the loud voice of the reporters lull your ears.

Bonten strikes again and mass murder are the only words you could form from the screen. the famous and most dangerous crime syndicate in Tokyo is being uttered in your television, going as far into showing paparazzi photos of its members, depicting to the people sitting on the other side of the screen of how dangerous they are. even with the warmth of your apartment you shiver. you would be lying if you said you weren't interested in listening in—but today wasn't the day.

after all, today is Marise's death anniversary.

you had already quickly visited him in his grave during your lunch break, and tonight you had plans on getting wasted, getting drunk until you could no longer think as clearly, placing the unwrapped and newly bought bottle of vintage vin rouge on your kitchen countertop which roused the attention of your roommate when she hears movement shifting in the corner of her view, she lowered the volume and straightens from the couch sending a cheeky grin your way,

"welcome back, you should've greeted me as you entered."

"sorry Mars, just exhausted. didn't wanna interrupt you while you're listening to the news." you responded coolly, spinning on your heel and opening up cabinets to fish for a wine glass for your endeavor. Mars props her elbows on the back of the couch, watching you shuffle with a small frown resting on her face.

"want me to join you?" she offers softly.

you shake your head. "i'll be fine." your fingers start to wrap around the vintage bottle, already pouring its content into the glass concave and lifting it to your lips but the sudden arms wrapping around your shoulder from behind made you pause, the glass caressing your lip but not enough for the liquid within to pour between your teeth.

"Mars, let go." you sigh ones, placing your wine on the counter when locks of ebony catches your eyes from the moonlight.

your roommate merely hums, pressing her cheek against the side of your neck. under the moon light, even Mars' silhouette is fucking gorgeous. rich black hair framing expensive cobalts for eyes, she was the definition of saintess through a wax stature adorned with medusa's taunt pumping beneath chiffon skins. she was the typical japan city girl with a small waist, wide hips, two plump lips, carved face festooned with caramel freckles. a figure men would go to war for.

your roommate you met two years ago has raspberry on her lips, on her manicured hand and on her cheeks.

she says your name softly, rolling down her lips. you barely lift your head to look at her. she says, "hey, do you wanna hit a nightclub tonight with me?"

her question makes your lips tilt downward. "Mars."

"you know you are pretty rigid for an adult, there's too much stress on your shoulders, come on it'll be a nice change of scenery for you." she tries to reason with you, but you counter by gently pushing her arms.