novels

Simplistic Words

2184

"I'm pleased to report that gang violence in Central City is at an all-time low."

"Right. Those hooligans have been nearly completely snuffed out thanks to our efforts to discourage their violent crimes. Now, back to Yamada."

The TV flickered to a new screen, a famous news reporter giving a friendly smile to his viewers.

The magenta-haired man watching TV blew smoke, adding to the thick smell of cigarettes in the air.

"Guhhh...who cares," he grunted, resting his head against the back of the couch. His tired eyes weren't focused on the screen, but rather a place far beyond it.

"Good afternoon, today I'm reporting from the X5 bomb site. Something interesting was discovered here yesterday."

The camera showed a large metal box resting behind the reporter. Its lid was slightly open, but the inside couldn't be seen. The surrounding area was bleak and charred. A large hole the size of a lake could be seen in the background, filled with murky water.

"This is a metal coffin that floated to the shore and was found by residents. You'll be shocked to hear what we found inside!" the reporter grinned, and the camera moved to the coffin again, showing a female body resting inside.

"Eh?" the magenta-haired man returned from his daydreaming and listened to the news report. He leaned forward, scratching his head lazily.

"This girl was frozen inside the coffin; we suspect she could have been alive in the 1960s! She's still thawing, so we can't get a name yet. For future reports, we'll be referring to her as Y.O.L.I., because of the acronym printed on the coffin."

The camera showed the faded letters printed on the side of the coffin. They were painted a dull red.

"A human frozen in time, hmph...now that's interesting," the man said to himself. The report changed to a different subject, and he switched channels. He thought nothing more of the weird case.

---

Weeks passed with no updates on the girl. He would know if there were any because watching TV was the only thing he ever did. It was either the news, vintage movies, or porn. Eventually, they revealed more about the girl. She was alive and well, which surprised him.

He barely believed the story when he first heard it. How could somebody survive for that long while frozen? It was unnatural.

Apparently, she was the most innocent human on earth. It wouldn't be hard to achieve such a title, since the world had fallen into depravity, but it was still impressive. Just how innocent did they mean?

Although it was a more intriguing story than they usually reported, it wasn't good enough to keep his attention for long. He had a terrible disinterest in almost everything the world had to offer. Nearly everything bored him to death, to the point where he questioned why he bothered living.

"Maybe I...ghh, it wouldn't hurt to go check on my bike..." he sighed, using all the energy he could muster to pull himself up.

The thing is, he wasn't lazy for no reason. He hadn't always been this way; in fact, he used to be the leader of a well-known and respected gang. He was a rough guy who didn't listen to anybody and had his fair share of troubles. However, three years ago...

He would rather not think about the accident that ruined his capacity to move and function in basic ways. It was terrible, and it made everything he did harder. Walking, breathing, and simply existing took more energy for him than for a regular person. It felt like he had 400 pounds weighing him down and making it hard for him to breathe, even though he was a scrawny guy.

He'd lost a lot of muscle from lying around, and being malnourished only added to his emaciated appearance.

He didn't know what was compelling him to go outside—but it was something strong. He hadn't checked on his motorcycle in a long time. He kept it in a rickety old storage shed not too far from his apartment. Nobody but him used the shed, since it had been abandoned for a long time and had a leaky roof. That meant he had to cover his bike with a tarp during the wet season.

He lazily opened the door of his apartment and glanced around outside. The hallway was dark and dingy, smelling of old wood and dust. After confirming that it was safe to leave, he locked the door behind him and made his way to the ground level.

The elevator had stopped working a long time ago, so the creaky stairs were the only way to get to the first floor. He stumbled around at first, getting used to walking again. His legs ached with every step.

When he made it outside, fresh air hit him like a bullet. Even though the air quality was bad, it was far cleaner and more refreshing than the stagnant, smoky air in his apartment.

He took the sidewalk, careful to avoid the drunks passed out there. The view was far from pretty. Most of the businesses in the area were closed and covered in graffiti. Now used as shelters by homeless people or places to do drugs, the neighborhood was unrecognizable. Gangs claimed buildings on the other side of town, but didn't bother with areas where more people lived. His apartment, fortunately, was in one of the safer spots.

A few minutes later, he made it to the shed. He was worried it might have collapsed after all this time, but it was still standing strong. He ran his hand along the thin metal walls, thinking of the old man who put his time and money into building it over a century ago. The door slid against the concrete ground with a harsh scratching noise when he pushed it open.

When he pulled the tarp off his bike, he was pleased to find it in the same condition he had left it. He was mostly glad it hadn't been stolen. The shed was tucked behind a few neighborhood houses and was nothing anyone would want to use as a hideout, so it remained unbothered.

As he admired his beautiful ride, his eyes slowly fell to a small object beside it.

A girl rested against his motorcycle. He could only see the top of her head from the side he was on, so he walked around to the other side to get a good look at her. She was awake.

There was no mistaking it; this was Y.O.L.I. She looked exactly like she did on the news, except she was dressed in a different outfit.

She wore a black blouse with a cute lace collar and a short black skirt. She had no shoes or socks on, and her legs were covered in goosebumps. It was cold outside, especially for someone wearing such a revealing outfit.

"Mhghh...what are you doing in here?" he asked. He didn't want to get involved with her, especially if she was still connected to COT in any way. She was legally under their control. Basically, she was their property.

"I'll leave. Please don't take me..." she said, closing her eyes as if he was going to hit her.

"Take you where?" he raised an eyebrow and leaned against the motorcycle to catch his breath. He struggled to keep his eyes open as they felt heavy.

"I'm hiding. I think the bad people are gone," she said. Her voice was soft and smooth, completely different from his own, which was rough due to all the cigarettes he smoked.

"You're that girl who was on the news, right?" he asked. "Did COT let you go?"

"COT?" she repeated, tilting her head. Her eyes softened, and she now looked at him with curiosity. She let go of her legs and stretched them out.

"Yeah, the people who found you," he said, yawning. Did she not know what COT was? He was beginning to realize just how sheltered and uneducated the girl really was.

"Yamada took care of me...is that his nickname?"

"Ah, Wataru Yamada. I know him," he nodded. Wataru was the most recognizable figure among COT, and he was also the one who reported on Y.O.L.I. when she was found. He was a divisive person. "So I'm guessing you ran away from them? You look pretty rough," he said, pointing to her hair and clothes, which were soggy from the downpour of rain the night before.

She nodded shyly. "I didn't want to be a part of their experiments," she said. "Does that...make me a bad person?"

Her words painfully echoed Wataru's, and the blame that man put on everyone but himself. In his news reports, his snobby tone oozed through the screen. Blaming everyone but himself.

He shook his head and smiled. "It doesn't make you a bad person at all. Trust me, whatever experiments COT had planned for you, they wouldn't lead to anything good," he said.

Those were the two things COT was known for: news reports and human experiments. It was widely known that COT ran the only major hospital in the country. Anybody who was severely injured and had money to spend would be taken there for treatment, no matter how far they were from the city.

There weren't many hospitals around, and the few that still ran were operated by underqualified doctors trying to scam people out of a few dollars. That's why most gave in and signed the waiver, allowing themselves to be used for COT's experiments in hopes that their illnesses and injuries would be cured.

He knew all about it because not only did he have a close family member who was used in an experiment, but he was used in one himself.

"I'm not going to turn you in, and I won't hurt you. You can stay here if you want, but you won't last a single day out here on the streets," he shrugged. Putting such a clueless girl on the streets by herself was an open invitation for bad people to attack her.

"O-oh..." She looked at the ground. "What do you mean, I won't last? I can take care of myself."

He sighed and stood up straight again. "There are evil people around here who would kill to have control over a pretty girl like you," he said, walking over to the small garage door on the shed and lifting it. The girl watched him with interest.

"Are you a bad person?" she asked. Her question caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"To you, maybe. But, I guess compared to all the other guys in this world, I look like a good person- yeah," he wheeled his bike towards the entrance. He paused for a moment and looked back at her, the small girl sitting against the dirty metal wall.

"Wanna go for a ride?" he offered. Her eyes lit up, and she bounced to her feet. She was a lot shorter than she looked while sitting down. She couldn't be taller than 5'2. She ran over to him, holding her hands behind her back as she waited for him to push the motorcycle out of the shed.

She closed the garage door behind him, and they both got on. She felt small and weak sitting behind him, her thin arms wrapped around his torso. He felt bad about what he was going to do, but he knew that it was right.

"Hold on tight," he said, then they took off. It was dangerous to ride when he was so tired and ill, but he felt like he owed it to her. He thought that maybe doing this for her could bring her some temporary joy, something she may never feel again in their drab world.

They raced along the empty streets, dark clouds appearing overhead. He ignored the onlookers, street thugs, and SH's standing outside for a smoke. That's how he was; he ignored everyone around him. The only person he ever talked to these days was his neighbor, who lived in the apartment directly across from his.

His neighbor was a shut-in who was kind enough to bring him cigarettes and some microwave meals from outside every week. He was too weak, lazy, and tired to do anything himself and didn't like interacting with people unless he had to.

SH's, Shut-ins, they were all terms used to put people in boxes. In their messed-up society, there were only a few ways you could categorize yourself. Some people were looked down upon more than others because of the lifestyle they chose.

He felt the girl's grip tighten when they turned a corner. His dark magenta hair blew in the wind, and now he felt more alive than ever. They flew down the highway, feeling a high he just couldn't get from watching TV. Her touch was warm, even comforting.

Once the area opened up, they were given a great view of Central City. During the global takeover, "Central City" was built smack-dab in the middle of Japan. Surrounding mountains were leveled using powerful explosives. The buildings there were destroyed to construct the dream city, a paradise for sinners. It was covered in tall skyscrapers, flashing lights, and was a cesspool of illegal and dangerous activity.

He didn't like Central City, mostly because it was hard to live there unless you liked to party or were in a gang. It held special memories for him, though, so he couldn't bring himself to move too far from it.

"Where are we going?" he faintly heard the girl ask. She peeked her head around his large back and stared at the bridge they were quickly approaching. It was a tall and impressive white bridge that sparkled under the small rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds.

"These are the marble gates, we're headed to Central City," he replied as they rolled onto the bridge. The closer you got to the city, the denser the population grew.

Where he lived, on the outskirts of the city, there was a decent number of people. Not nearly as many as inside the city. When COT planted its headquarters inside the tallest skyscraper there, thousands of citizens moved to the city in hopes of being chosen to live in a specially protected COT facility.

Not many people were chosen, and with no home to return to, they were forced to live on the streets of the filthy capital.

"This is where they were keeping you, wasn't it?" he asked. He felt bad for what he was doing, but there was just no way he could keep her with him. He was a liar, a terrible, dirty liar.

"Why are we going there?" she asked, gripping his shirt tightly. Her head pressed against his back, stirring the guilt in his stomach.

If he were to keep her with him at his house, he could get in big trouble. He might even be killed. COT didn't mess around when it came to their rules. If they wanted her back, he would give her to them. They had already screwed him over enough.

"Stop! Don't take me there!" she grabbed him harder, pounding her fist against his side. With a hit as weak as his own, it did little to stop him.

He didn't respond to her pleading. Soon, they exited the bridge and were thrust into the city. The streets were dark and devoid of sunlight. Every block was covered in trash and feces, littered with passed-out drunks and shady characters. He hadn't been there in so long that he'd forgotten where COT was.

They rode around for a while trying to find the headquarters. The girl's face was pressed against him so she wouldn't have to look at all the weird things happening around them. He felt a little bad for her, and he wondered how she had escaped the city alone without getting kidnapped.

He was getting bored with the search and got distracted by a brightly colored neon sign. It flashed red and gold while playing an annoying jingle repeatedly.

"Hell yeah..." he said under his breath. He decided to make the detour, parking his bike in front of the building and tying it up to a pole with a metal chain. Motorcycles were commonly stolen here, so it was best to be safe. He walked onto the sidewalk, stepping over a pile of wet newspapers.

"Are you coming, or what?" he said to the girl, who was staring at him from beside his bike. He knew that he had lost her trust, the innocent and untainted faith she had in him. She stared at him for a moment and then ran after him, following quietly behind him as he entered the building.

The stench of alcohol permeated the air. Rows of slot machines were laid out in front of them, accompanied by a few tables of people playing poker. He smiled, finally back in his natural habitat. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her in front of him.

"We'll only be here for a little bit, so you can sit down on a bench or something. Don't talk to anyone, okay?" he whispered. She obediently found a bench to sit on. He looked at her for a second before going off to gamble a bit of money.

Luckily, the only thing he needed money for these days was paying his neighbor a few bucks for his kindness. His apartment was completely free since the owners had abandoned it, and it became a "self-serve" kind of place. Basically, every necessity was free as long as you stole it. So he was able to put a few dollars into the machine without feeling any guilt.

All his money was what he had saved from back in his gang days. They used to steal from people all the time, and surprisingly, he even had a job at one point. It wasn't much money, but it lasted him a long time.

He glanced over at the girl, who was kicking her feet in boredom. She kept glancing around at the older men who were drinking and laughing loudly. There was a spat going on in the corner where a few guys were cussing each other out. As he looked at her, he realized she was still wearing no shoes. That wasn't strange to see in this day and age, but he felt bad for making her walk on the dirty ground where she might accidentally step on a needle or a blade.

Twenty minutes passed, but he hadn't made a cent. Even though he used to spend all his time in places like this, he felt a little uncomfortable now. It had been three years since he'd done this, and he was being reminded of what he would've become if he hadn't left.

He was a troubled guy with a multitude of addictions. Thankfully, his gambling addiction had been halted by his aversion to leaving his house. His eyes grew tired as he listened to the machine play the same dinging noises repeatedly. He'd already sunk $100 into it, but he felt like he had to keep going.

"Mister?" Someone tapped on his shoulder. A cute voice filled his ears, and he turned around to see the girl looking back at him. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and she softly held the sides of her black skirt. "I'm hungry," she said.

The guy sitting next to him looked over at them, throwing him a large grin and showing off the large gaps in his teeth. "You got 'yer-self a cute one."

The guy reached out his hand and lifted her skirt to peek at what was underneath.

"Don't touch her!" he quickly slapped the man's hand away and got up. Cracking his knuckles, he glared down at the man with a deadly glare. The girl backed away from them, accidentally bumping into another guy's back. "Why the hell would you do that?! Hm?" Masao yelled at the peeper.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, it was a joke, kid."

"Fuck off!" he used all of his strength to punch the man in the face, knocking him off the barstool. He fell to the ground, crashing into the people sitting beside him and hitting his head on the metal stool. "So you go around touching girls without their consent?! You pervert!" he yelled, putting his foot on the man's stomach and pressing down.

"What th- who do you think you are?" he complained.

People around them were starting to get mad, too, and he knew he didn't have much time to get out before a real fight would start. He grabbed the girl by the hand and pulled her into his arms.

"Masao Takeda, former leader of JumpAHead," he said, eye twitching. He gave the man one last kick and left the building.

No peeking!