The Man

     I first saw this man at the cafe I worked at. It was early June, around 9 pm, and the shop had been mostly empty, except for a fat man chowing down noodles in a corner booth, my co-worker Akito, and me. Business was difficult with the mysterious deaths that had been happening recently. Nobody knew why, or who did; it just happened. In fact, the t.v. in the cafe was sharing the latest murder.

“--and left behind no clues. Only a dead body was found in the alley way besides the Fresh Village Market in the morning when the shop owner opened up his shop.”  

Anyway, this particular man was a tall man, with jet black hair, sharp narrow eyes, and a sharp jaw; the type of person that intimated you at first sight. He had stepped inside the shop with a companion, both in sweatshirts and hoods pulled over their heads. I treated the two of them to a booth where they ordered a simple plate of gyoza. 

    “That’s her?” I heard one of them say as I turned around. 

    “Yeah, it is,” the other replies quietly. “Now shut up, you idiot.”

    It was a strange conversation to overhear, but I didn’t think too much about it. A lot of things happened all over Japan, and I didn’t need to busy myself eavesdropping on other customers. I brushed the conversation in a matter of seconds. Several times, I caught them looking at me, but I had thought they were probably just perverted idiots from the streets. They didn’t leave the cafe until closing time and even rode in the same bus as me. But again, I believed it to be a coincidence. 

    About two days later, I was walking down the street to the town’s supermarket, and I saw one of the men from the cafe walking behind me. He followed me into the market, nodding me a thanks as I opened the door for him. I could’ve sworn I saw him glance at me several times as he checked the rows of food in the same aisle I was in. He even came up to me to say a curt hello. But then again, I believed it all to be a simple coincidence.

    Another time, I had gone out of the house to toss the trash, and I could’ve sworn I saw that same man leaning against a white car, his eyes narrowed and locked on me. I kept seeing him everywhere. When I came out of the cafe I worked at, I would see his face through the glass of his car. I would see his car ride past me, and sometimes he would walk near me with a nod of his head. On and on, I kept seeing this strange man, who always seemed to pursue me in some way. The more I saw this man, the more the thought of it being just a coincidence faded away. I began to feel this stranger was stalking me, and a terrible thought filled my head. 

That man could be no other than the murderer of Tokyo. 

“Hey-- Chan!” A voice addressing me by my last name took me away from my thoughts, and I looked up with a startled expression. My boss Eito Fuki stood there, his eyebrows raised, his arms folded. He was a rather short man, with the center of his head completely shaved. He was wearing a light blue shirt, with the shirt stretching across his slightly bulging belly. 

“Er-- Mr. Fuki,” I said quickly, blinking out of my trance. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He cleared his throat, nodding his head towards a waiting family, who stood patiently at the doorway. 

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry.” I snatched a few menus, handing them to the family with warm smiles before leading them to a table. “Konichiwa, please forgive me.” Who I believe is the mother of the family, smiles at me warmly, smoothing out her rose-patterned dress. 

“Oh, no problem, dear.”

“You’re too kind. So--er-- what can I get for you?” I asked, taking a pencil out, and hoisting it above the notepad. I begin to nod, jotting down their orders with a little: mhmm here and there. The woman finishes off with the order of a sukiyaki and hands me back the menus. Taking them, I turn and practically drop the menus. There he was, once again; that eccentric, grim-faced man. He strolled into the shop, following Akito to a free table where he was poured tea immediately. I watched as his eyes lifted over the rim of his teacup and met mine. My jaw hardened, I set my cast downwards and focused on making the drinks for the family members. I snuck a glance at the man, and yet again, he was watching me steadily. Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, I handed out the drinks to the previous family as fast as I could, and darted into the Employees Only room.

I hadn’t even walked that fast, yet I felt breathless. I slumped into a chair, pulling my hair down that had been tied back by a single scarlet ribbon. There was a sudden knock at the door, and I jumped to my feet hoping it wasn’t Mr. Fuki, who’s coming to yell at me. The door creaked open, and a small tuft of black hair was seen through the crack. 

“Hello?” A deep voice came from the other side before the door was pushed open all the way. In walked in that man, lookin just like every other time I’d seen him; black hair, dark clothing, a face more grim than any other. The man casually stepped in, nonchalantly placing his hands within his pockets.

“I was just wondering where the bathrooms are,” he said, looking right at me without blinking an eye. He looked around my age, perhaps 17 or 18. I had to admit; I felt a little creeped out by his presence. 

    “Read the signs,” I answered darkly. 

    “Now that’s a bit rude for a kind employee like you,” the man replied with a smirk, lightly tapping the back of his foot against the wooden door so it closed. 

    “Stay away from me.” There weren't any weapons in the room, and there wasn’t any way for me to call the police either. “I-I’m going to scream.” He looks at me for a while before bursting out into laughter. Unsure of what to say, I simply gawked at him, feeling lightheaded. 

    “What’s so funny?” I asked, frowning. “Why are you following me- I see you, you know? A-are you trying to kill me?” The boy snorts loudly, throwing his head back.

    “Me!?” he chuckled. “I’m not trying to keep you; I’m trying to keep a lookout for you. It’s my job. You’re being hunted down, Misaki Chan. You’re the next victim of Asda Goda, the murderer of Tokyo.”