St Maria’s all girl school loomed above me, its classy exterior like a scene out of a Victorian mansion or an oil tycoon bachelor pad. Tokyo’s number one all girl school I have been told. It didn’t make me laugh.
God I hate these little private schools, then again I’m not too much fond of the whole school thing altogether. That doesn’t mean I’m against a good education, just not one where you tell your kid that it matters when deep down you know better.
In my book you can learn more sitting down in a pub, and listen to a complete stranger talk about how much he screwed up in life. I’m not lying, you would be surprised what you can learn from just listening and keeping your eyes open.
The place in front of me did the exact opposite of that. Kids learn how to do mathematics, computer science, and cooking by keeping their eyes down and not asking questions. Not my thing but I can see how people might gravitate to those types of fields. Me? Give me a calculator, an email address, and deep fried fish and chips friend and I’m all good.
St Maria’s all girl school was a palace compared to my old toxic dump of a school but it works on the same principle. Kid, teachers, and money. It always comes down to money.
This is a place where the rich send their little darling girls to show off the fact that they had enough money to be sent to these kinds of places. For the other poor slobs, the parents that do who knows how many hours of work to put their kids in this prison its another matter.
Their line of thinking is easy to understand. Spend lots of cash on their kid’s education and one day if they are really lucky and after spending a cool two million dollars on school fees, their kid has a chance to earn ten quid an hour flipping burgers that bit better. That’s how I understand it in any case, I might be wrong, but I don’t think so.
Why do I rip on so much on these types of systems and establishments? It’s simple. I was one of the failures. A Jewish nerd in the lesser slums of London, well there isn’t much else to tell except I liked dungeons and dragons and I had more broken teeth then girls friends. To survive I down played a lot of things, including my grades. Now I earn about seven figures a year and I still have the bruise marks on my arse for when I brought my report cards home.
At about now you’re probably asking what is a guy who should be out drinking a cool ale while jumping into a good old fashioned hooligan scrap, is sulking in front of an Japanese all girls private school at night? I’ll give you a second to think every horrible thing about me… Done? Well it’s part of the job. Today my job is to unite Romeo and Juliet before they end up in misery.
Aren’t I a nice guy?
A text message appears on my phone. I like text messages. Easy, simple, and can easily be discarded. I don’t like this job, its a little… let’s just say if it weren’t for the pay I would walk away. I read the message and get out of my car. It’s a bit of a walk to the entrance so I don’t waste time.
Without much effort I crawl out of the hole in the stone fence and make my way to the building. If there is one thing I like about schools, it’s the lack of security. One thing parents overestimate it’s these peppy school security systems, they might as well just put up a neighbourhood watch sign for all the good it does.
I don’t take the main entrance, I’ve been in this job too long to fall for that. I put on my gloves and I check my phone.
The grounds of the school holds no surprises, I move across the open field as if I owned the place and find my opening. It’s a window, two stories up and the light is on, just as my employer said.
There is no ladder, after all a ladder means evidence if its not cleaned up, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind a ladder after all it’s just common sense, but you would be surprised how many perfectly made plans fuck up over a stupid thing like a busted headlight.
I begin my ascent up, make all the Jew jokes you want about us and exercise, I’ve heard them all and I keep in pretty good physical shape to tear up a pub when I need to. I climbed up that wall and with only a few drops of sweet dangling off my brow I made it to the window. Don’t believe me? A lot of people do and they have all regretted it.
Before opening the window I use a polished knife to search for any sign of life. I find none and I move in. I should at this moment explain my disguise. Its a simple janitorial uniform that you could get for a bob. But you have to be careful with fibres these days, the shirts may all say made in China on the tag, but sometimes even they are knock-offs.
I go to the cupboard and search. There enough, just as my employer texted, was the mop and bucket. The tools all janitors use to move unnoticed. I take my equipment and put on my cap.
“What do you think you’re looking at you little shit?” A private girl yells in Japanese the moment I step out of the class room.
On the other side of the lockers two girls were brutalising a tubby boy with a boring haircut. I was tempted to break it up and give the girls a good spank, but the job comes first and I don’t have time for it.
“You think a fat ass like you deserves to look at the president?” The other girl said while I moved away. There was no doubt in my mind that she saw me, but it didn’t matter. With this disguise I was just part of the background.
Across countries and cultures, school never changes. There are bullies, the high and mighty that look down on the outcasts, little do they know that the rejects outnumber the popular kids. That’s the thing about popularity, all it takes is blood in the water and the baby sharks go at you.
When you think about it, it’s sort of funny. The only way to get noticed in the states is to make a big enough scandal, for the Japs it’s all about keeping your nose clean otherwise you’re treated as a leper. I wonder if there is a happy middle between attention whore and head-up-your-own-arse?
I move as unseen as a servant moving across a land of kings. But why are students playing in the school this late? This isn’t boarding school, I expected at best a campus guard but not students.
Overall it is a quiet place, peaceful even if it does leave a bad taste in my mouth. You can smell the sweet of money here. Normally in high schools you can smell teenage angst and puberty, this was different. Perfume and hidden desires, it reminded me more of a… nunnery.
In this darkened labyrinth of lockers and classrooms I move unseen. If a student had been walking the corridors they would not bother to look or confront me. That’s the thing about janitors and waters, and any number of people I have been over the years, we are the unseen.
I make it past the rooms and into one of the more swanky parts of the school. I would be half surprised if the toilet paper here wasn’t made of gold leaf for all the bills their tossing at this place.
Two girls in uniforms stand at attention in the room I am meant to be in, their cute in their little bows, but I’m not into girls. Give me a woman with a glass of bourbon in her grasp and a cool smile on her face and I’m there.
Down the corridor another set of figures arrive lead by some other girls in different uniforms, they’re holding wooden swords. They appear to be escorting a young male who looks as if he got run over by a truck.
This is probably going to give him trouble in the future. Getting your willies handed to you by a couple of girls. Don’t the boys around here have balls?
They escort him to the room, the girls at the font don’t ask questions. Somehow I think the boy needs my help, he’ll have to wait.
As a rule I never like shooting children, call me a softy, I just don’t like it. Anyway that’s not why I’m here. Remember? I’m helping Romeo and Juliet. I take out my custom made dart gun and hit both girls in the neck with a nice little something that makes me real popular in parties.
Like my stomach after some hot curry they drop to the ground and they don’t get back up. They aren’t dead but the they wont be able to remember their names when they wake up in the morning. I check my weapon, I hate playing with kids.
Able to open the door to the point were I can peek, the first thing I notice is the girls in black are talking to one another. “Giovanna isn’t going to hurt Hina is she?” One of the girls ask while moving to the counter.
“Hina betrayed us by going out with that Kikuu bastard.”
Kikuu. One of the all boys schools that are a step away from being called a recruitment centre for gangs. Nice boys in there if you don’t mind them rowdy and made of nails, I don’t really know the place as I only took a brief lesson on all the schools in the area, but the girls here have bit of a standard when it comes to each other’s love life.
Now you might think I’m a coward and you would be right. You see these Asian chicks learn some interesting fighting skills because their daddy’s money makes them a target. That’s the difference between the so called best of the best macho idiot stuff and me. Professionals don’t run a car through the front gate or bring a flame-thrower to a birthday party. We are in and out without anyone thinking twice.
I slide in my metal disk and close the door before the slot opens. In my head I count to thirty, during that time I hear the bodies drop.
I can still smell the tea in their cups as I move through the room of comatose young girls, I allow my training and common sense to pick up every tell, if one of these girls had managed to hold her breath and was playing dead, it didn’t show.
As I move into the back room a spot something that causes me to hesitate.
Behind a wall of bars, like this was some cop shop, was a young girl dressed in rags. She was a looker and it appeared as if she was half starved.
I had heard from my employer that the school here had been a boarding school at some time and that the teachers liked to stashed their more troublesome students behind bars to teach them a lesson, I of course thought the boss was just being colourful. I mean, kids are just stupid brats, but this… I wouldn’t be surprised if this girl was beaten and chained to the walls.
I remember what the other girls were talking about. This girl’s only crime was in that she liked a boy from a less respectable school. Thoughts about saving this girl surfaced, but were quickly dismissed. She would know my face, and I was not ready for that.
Gradually I took out my side arm and before she could see me, I shoot her in the neck.
The young Japanese girl looks in my direction as she pulls the dart out of her neck. I know from experience that she only sees a blur when she looks at me and even that will be gone when she wakes up with the granny of all hangovers.
I know my orders and like clockwork I begin on the lock. I’m almost laughing at it when it takes me a half a second to get the thing undone, it’s a pretty useless thing and I would have been amassed if an idiot with a chicken bone couldn’t get the thing done.
The next objective complete I move to the door to the next area and stop myself as I hear voices.
“You want to tell me what you planned on doing once you saved Hina?” It was a teenager’s voice that spoke perfect Japanese but held a hint of an Italian accent.
The boy that got his ass kicked earlier spoke, it seemed somehow confident. “You self-riotous bitch.” I think the boy found his balls somewhere inside, either that or… I smile as I put his being here and the light in the classroom together. The boy was my employer.
On the other side of the door I hear a smack and suspect the boy got something for his back talk. “Until Hina repents for even speaking to you. She is staying right here at St Maria’s” Somehow I could feel that the owner of this voice was smiling. “She loves this school with all her heart.” There was a scuffle on the other side. “Even if you did walk out of here with her, she would come back and gladly prostrate herself to lick my boot.”
Come on kid. I want to go inside there and kick this bitch.
“Because you’re untouchable because your the daughter of a diplomate, and I’m just the son of a yakuza?” The boy’s words hit my ears and I smile.
Taking out my phone I went straight to my phone book and enter the room, my dart gun in my hand.
I have a question for you. Don’t worry it’s a yes or no answer thing but it tells you a bit about the person answering.
If you could go back in time and kill little baby Hitler, would you? Imagine sneaking into Mister and Misses Hitler’s nursery with a hammer and a screw driver in your hand and looking down at a monster. Now would you do it?
A few people might give a coward’s answer and try to put him in a better environment where he couldn’t cause trouble. Those people when then go and give Attila the Hun a hug, tell Neapolitan that he shouldn’t compensate for something, and advise Abraham Lincoln that he would have gotten better results if he used a bit of glitter and made a few banners to stop slavery.
I’m talking about a situation where you could do something practical and walk out of that room knowing you are either a better person then when you came in or a monster.
Now why do I ask this question? Well let’s just say it crossed my mind as I look at the strawberry blood teenage girl that is sitting behind a desk. This same girl has a Japanese boy tied up and has forcefully held her classmate against her will and most likely starved her for no other reason than it would cause a few other girls to gossip.
So, although she may never be the next Hitler, you can tell that this little bitch is going to be a real fun member of society when she grows up.
“W.what is this?” The head council member asks going from shocked to angry.
To the girl’s side, five Japanese girls with wooden swords start drawing but I drop all five of them with my dart gun.
Giovanna shrieks as her crew of samurai guards goes down. She thinks they’re dead, at the end they will wish they were.
The boy in the chair shows only the hint of a smile, it only grows wider as I use my switch-blade to cut him free. “You think your untouchable because of your dad and your position as president. I’m going to prove you wrong.” He give me a nod and I push the call button.
After two rings the there is an answer as another Japanese voice comes through on speaker phone. “Hello?” I hand the phone to my employer and reload my weapon. It is in these moments that perfectly laid out plans start to break down when some unknown variable gets the idea to join in on the fun.
The high school kid speaks clearly while rubbing his bruised cheeks. “Put Giovanna’s father on the phone.”
I swear to you, that small girl’s face completely drained of colour.
Now in my line of business I try not to listen in on the peculiars of my client’s conversations. One reason is that if I get pick up by the cops, I know I will get to jail a lot quicker if I don’t have a lawyer and clients usually split the bill when it comes to that thing, another reason is that I don’t much care. I know I’m an asshole that will turn a blind eye to somebody about getting mugged in an ally, but you know what? I value my head where it is.
So while I pretend I don’t know a thing about the Japanese language I look at the girl’s features. She’s scared, terrified; while the boy is smiling like he just got his first pay check in his hand.
“Noooo!” She screams and goes to the phone in my client’s hand as if it was the gun being held at her father’s temple. My body moves as if it has a mind of its own, I grab the teary eyed girl and hear the shot.
There is silence. It has to make you laugh when you see somebody that had all the power in the world go to being a nothing.
This is how the world works. I’ve seen it happen a dozen times in my life as I strangle the shop owner who thinks the law is on his side, the mobster that forgot his people weren’t bulletproof, the police officer that thinks his badge is some mythical device that stops bullets in mid-air.
Power is only a tool, and for those who are smart like me. You grab just enough that you don’t piss off the wrong people or become noticed.
The girl didn’t understand that. Didn’t think that if you pissed off the son of a high ranking mob boss that her little club of girls was going to be enough not to save her. Her father is dead now because she did not think this through, because of what silly pried she had was spent pissing people off so much that she didn’t notice she was about to mess with the wrong person.
But in fairness her daddy was pretty much dead anyway, he did some pretty bad things and the guys he got in bed with were just looking for an opening. This kid just took advantage of a of the moment and secured his dominance. Scary.
The boy in the seat allows the school president to throw her tantrum, she is a feisty one, I can barely hold her rage in. The boy gives a nod and the snob feels the weight of the but of my pistol strike her head. Like the other girls I had opened fire on she will wake up with a headache and feel very sorry for picking the wrong side of an argument.
Like a hero out of a movie, the boy caries Hina away. She’s awake now and very happy over her rescue. Though, from my experience she does have that brainwashed cult member look to her, she can’t believe that her lovable school is on fire.
I owe this particular pyromania to the bad wiring and a kettle that had somehow found itself next to a pack of news papers.
No normal kid should like school like these kids do. They aren’t nerds like me and they don’t have family problems that would give them the idea of seeking refuge, therefore I can only think that Giovanna gave them the impression that school was home, which it is not.
A school is not a home, it is like a place of business. You drink coffee with your mates, learn something that you might use later on in life, and talk about your boss being a total wanker behind his back. But that’s my opinion in any case.
I see the authorities in the background as I look out from the driver’s seat of my van, it isn’t the car I came in with as it had been toed away for reasons that I had planned. Behind me I hear the muffled screams of one of the girls that had been on the wrong side of the story of true love. From the fear in the their eyes I can tell they are all confused as they cry for their mummies.
I take no pleasure in what I do, but sometimes I make an exception. I am not a monster. I didn’t kill the blond bitch’s dad. I did however leave a few of her little minions upstairs, I have a feeling one or two will survive.
I take comfort that I am the hero in this story, that I braved the corridors and fought my way using skill and power to save a girl from the clutches of an evil witch that would one day do something more terrible to somebody who didn’t deserve it.
They make a loving couple now that I see them exit through the secret entrances and exits of the evil place known as a private school.
The phone in my pocket rings and I look at the message posted on it. I am given an address and I gulp. I once again say that I take no pleasure in my work, and judging what is in these girl’s futures, I doubt they will either.
“All’s fair in love and war.” I say to Giovanna before I drive her and the other enemies of love to a place were they will disappear but not without learning their lesson.