Sugure Sweetheart Hana: Sugure Sweetheart, #1

Chapter 1

Saturday, Sept 4, 2068 7:55 PM

Hanako, tabemono o taberu, the young female scolds her child.

The little girl pushes the bowl of Miso soup away from her. Broth spills across the laminated tabletop. The pungent aroma of dashi and green onions spreads throughout the tiny hotel eatery.

The child’s piercing glare connects with her mother. A battle of resolve begins. Unblinking, their amber irises radiate with intensity, reddening by the second.

Don’t leave me, the girl’s eyes scream, though her mouth remains sealed.

Her mother’s eyes, a mirror-like reflection, tell the girl she has no choice.

A frail body man leans over the table and strokes Hanako’s long, kinky, black hair. Shh. He patronizes her.

The girl examines the stranger. He is not one of the yellow men. His suit and mannerisms are too polished. He is not one of the red men. His features resemble hers, her mother’s, and those of the red men, but he doesn’t stink of their arrogance. It doesn’t matter, she dislikes him greatly anyway.

Your mother sells her body to feed you. Soon, you’ll have to feed yourself.

His hateful tone justifies her disdain of him. She slaps his hand from the crown of her head and gnashes her teeth.

Yameru! the mother shouts. Her Japanese, sharp as a dagger.

She needs to learn how the world works! He grabs the mother tightly by her arm, causing her to wince in pain and succumb to his will.

The man and the mother leave the girl seated quietly as they head towards their hourly- rated hotel room.

Hanako looks around the restaurant.

Patrons seated nearby turn their heads, pretending not to notice her. They act as if they did not witness the tiny lady being dragged away.

A waitress comes to the table to finish cleaning up the spilled broth. She smiles kindly at the young girl.

"Aren’t you a cutie. How old are you?

The girl raises four fingers.

Well, finish your soup, and I will bring you a big bowl of ice cream. Would you like that?

The girl nods politely to the waitress as she sets clean silverware on the table.

Hanako sees her mother in the clutches of the man, waiting by the elevators of the hotel lobby.

Her mother stands awkwardly. His grip is hurting her.

The redness returns to Hanako’s eyes.

She grabs the steak knife from her table and charges out of the restaurant.

The other diners gasp.

The waitress calls out for her to stop.

Hanako screams as she sprints across the tile floor.

The man turns as the knife careens towards his chest. He grabs the girl’s wrist, blocking her strike. The knife falls from her clutch.

He slaps the child, sending her small body spiraling to the ground.

Hanako! the mother screams.

She picks up the knife and jabs it towards the man’s heart. Her attack is deflected by the man’s right forearm. Blood soaks through the cuff of his sleeve.

Hotel security rushes to assist, grabbing Hanako and her mother. They pin the ladies’ fists behind their backs and force them down to their knees.

More staff tends to the man’s superficial wounds.

Sugure City Police arrive on the scene within minutes, parading through the large glass entrance in full riot gear. Three officers surround the mother. Their rifle barrels press into her skull. They secure cuffs around her wrists.

Teardrops trickle past her trembling lips as a cop scans her eyes.

The policeman scoffs. What a surprise. An illegal.

He scans the little girl’s retinas. Same here, no records.

Another policeman inspects the victim’s bandages. You should be careful of the company you keep, mister. These people are savages.

What’s your name? an officer barks at the mother, holding her head up by her hair.

Kasumi, she whimpers.

I don’t suppose you have a last name.

The woman pauses, contemplating her response before shaking her head.

Hanako is shocked by her mother’s lie and silently sobs.

What about your daughter, what’s her name?

Hana, the woman lowers her head.

The glossy tile floor is illuminated by the dancing blue and red lights from the cop cars parked curbside and wet from the droplets dripping from the little girl’s cheeks.

Look up, kid. It’s the last time you’ll ever see your mom. 

Hanako hears the slow click clack of her mother’s high heels. She can’t bring herself to watch her mother being escorted into the night, into the source of the colors.

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Aug 11, 2080 8:26 PM

The Brigades of Sugure City are down two goals, entering the final minutes of the 2080 Soccer Championship. Fans are outraged, screaming into the camera of the live feed. The monitors of the dank ramen shop are muted, but the men surrounding Hana provide their own commentary.

Can you believe this shit? I’m going to lose my ass on this game.

Slurping a long cluster of noodles into his mouth, the man next to her insists on continuing the conversation.

Hana holds her hand up to her nose. Now sixteen, she still hated the smell of Miso broth.

The entrance of the shop opens. Fresh air floods in providing a brief relief from the looming aroma of booze and soup.

Two drunken soccer fans in black Texas jerseys stumble inside. They bump into Hana as she leans against the bar top drinking a pouch of purified water infused with strawberry jellies.

Hana watches the guys curiously. Either they have no clue they have entered a gang establishment, or they are seeking payment from their bookie. Whichever the scenario, they are absolute fools. Ohio is a long way from their home.

Hana giggles aloud, causing the human noodle vacuum on the right to peer at her strangely.

She is no different from the out-of-towners. Like them, she is only here for money. She is desperate for it in fact, on the verge of being homeless and not able to afford food for her growling stomach. Hana thinks about her mother and the sacrifices she made so they could have food and a room to rest in.

Hana wants more than just a meal and a place to sleep. Surviving off scraps isn’t enough for her. She desires to feast. She wants access to all the things on the other side of the invisible barrier created to segregate the wealthy from the impoverished.

She has seen the glitz and glamor the city has to offer. The amazing food, the art, the opulent luxuries of life are constantly on display behind the glass wall.

The clock ticks down to zero on the monitors. Texas players rush onto the field in victory. The two men in black jerseys high five each other in celebration, and sure enough, they demand their payment from a bookie seated at the end of the bar.

Several men in red suits greet the two Texas fans. They say hello with their fists and stomp them with snakeskin shoes.

The out-of-towners’ pleas for help and mercy are ignored.

Hana smirks, amused by the Texans’ misfortune. Everyone learns their lesson eventually. Men with power never play fair. The color of the suit doesn’t matter; politicians, policemen, businessmen, and gangsters are all cut from the same cloth.

The scuffle brings a new energy to the restaurant. Men come out from their dark corners and back offices like schools of fish to spectate. The clamor of their chatting increases.

Hana sees this as the best opportunity to cast her net. She arches her back and drops her shoulders while rolling up the waistband of her skirt, to make it extra short. The tease of exposed flesh attracts predators like chum in the water. This is just one of the tricks she had picked up from living in a carousel of group homes.

Use what you got, while you got it, one of her caretakers had told her once. Wise words from a used-up adult film actress making ends meet by babysitting troubled youths.

Chapter 2

Sunday, Aug 11, 2080 8:36 PM

Can I get you something stronger? a short potbellied man approaches Hana.

Golden embroidery decorates his red silk shirt. Diamond studs adorn his ears. The ink on his neck is even more colorful than his outfit.

Gangsters fill the shabby seats of the ramen shop, dressed in their branded clothes, prominently showing their gold rings and platinum chains. They drink their ale and sing off-key karaoke. Many of them had already approached her with similar offers, only to be subtly rejected by the teeny bopper.

This man is different. He is imbued with confidence and redolent of affluence. He is a mid-level member of the Red Serpents.

Hana nods.

The man raises two fingers, signaling the bartender. Two shots of top-shelf tequila are slid before them.

Ito Sachihiro, he introduces himself, have a seat. Ito flicks his hands towards the two much bigger, more intimidating men currently occupying the closest bar stools. They immediately stand, forfeiting their chairs.

Hana’s hands shake as she lifts the shot glass to her lips. She sees Ito staring at her, nearly drooling on himself. His lustful aura makes her uncomfortable.

She signals the bartender for another round. The drinks are quickly delivered. 

Other girls work the shabby restaurant, pacing in tight dresses fishing for Johns. Hana watches how they seductively stroke their marks’ shoulders and tee hee at their jokes. She drinks the second shot and forces a smile as she entertains the man next to her. Running her fingertips gently up his forearm, she imitates the other ladies. The knot in her throat chokes the words in her mouth. She stutters, attempting to express her gratitude for the drinks.

He slaps four yellow chips on the bar top beside her empty glasses. A creepy sneer creases his lips. He appears to be enticed by her greenness. He places his sweaty hand on her twitching thigh.

How about it? Let’s have some fun? Ito’s stringy fingers slide underneath Hana’s short black skirt.

Hana cringes from his touch, but she manages to conceal her disgust. She snatches the chips worth a thousand dollars and stuffs them into the front pocket of her backpack purse.

Ito wraps his arm around her shoulders as they stand. He leads her towards the back office of the restaurant.

In the quaint rear room, two thugs sit at a tiny glass table, snorting lines of powder. They pause their debauchery and stand in attention as their ranking superior enters the office.

The thin walls are covered in red oriental wallpaper. Two paper lanterns with printed Kanji shine dimly from the ceiling. The tasteless decor makes the tiny office even more claustrophobic.

Ito releases his grip of Hana to join the men.

As the thugs joke around, Hana tensely waits. They offer her drugs, but she declines with a subtle hand gesture.

Hana inspects the room, trying to distract herself from the reason she is here. In the rear of the office is a large office desk. Next to it, is a five-foot Centurion floor safe with a three-inch pry-proof door and digital keypad.

She peeks to the right and sees her reflection in a large wall-mounted mirror. She can hardly recognize the meek figure. Glittery gold eyeliner and blush shimmers against olive skin. Her short black buzz cut hair is covered with a wig, two light pink ponytails dangle across her shoulders. Her small breast masqueraded in a large cupped bra stuffed with silicon enhancers. Her pink crop top shirt projects out in an unnatural form. Her muscular midriff exposed on her 5’7", 120-pound lanky frame.

Ito posts up against the office desk. He waves Hana over to him and shoos the other two thugs away.

They snicker as they pass by her. The door of the office closes behind them.

Hana’s heart pounds as she inches up closer to Ito. She nervously rubs the metal-beaded bracelet around her right wrist. Her hands shake violently as she drops her purse to the floor.

Ito peels off his shirt, revealing his heavily tattooed torso.

He presses his lips against her neck and proceeds to suck the blood to the surface of her skin. His hot, Saki breath beats her in the face. He leans in kiss to her, but Hana turns away.

Her body quivers as the man’s hands search her. His fingers slowly descend across her stony ab muscles. His hands slide around her waist, he gropes her butt.

Hana’s breathing grows shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat form on her brow. Her body becomes rigid. She is petrified. This is her first time in such a precarious situation.   

Ito releases the buckle of his decorative belt, dropping his pants.

Hana desperately searches the pocket in the pleat of her skirt. She pulls out a straight razor, placing the blade up to his throat.

His eyes grow wide at the tinge of the sharp steel pressing into his skin. The muscles of his face become taut as he sneers.

Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m a Red Serpent, you stupid rat.

Hana spits a wad of phlegm in his face and shoves him to the ground. Open the fucking safe. Fill this bag with chips, she demands.

Ito reluctantly complies, grabbing the purse and crawling towards the safe. He punches in the ten-digit numerical code and begins raking out packaged bundles of colorful clay chips from the shelves.

This place is packed with my guys. You will never make it out the front door alive.

Hana scoffs at him. Shut the fuck up, asshole.

He zips up the bulging sack and stands to his feet. He closely examines the girl’s face. Her blaring red irises are piercing, demonic even.

He hurls the bag in Hana’s directions. She attempts to catch it, but it hits her like a sack of bricks and falls to the floor.

Ito gathers his britches, pulling a switch blade from his pocket. He jabs it towards Hana’s gut, but she eludes it with a quick sidestep.

Hana slashes her blade at him.

Ito crumples to the ground, whaling in pain. Blood gushes out of a wound across his cheek.

Hana struggles to swing the loaded bag onto her shoulders.

She bolts towards the door and enters the dining area. The small restaurant is congested. She forces her way through the drunken Sunday night patrons.

Get that whore, she robbed us! Ito’s voice booms from the backroom. A dozen thugs shoot to their feet and scramble through the restaurant to chase after her.

Thugs explode out of the shop onto the busy street, brandishing their clubs and cleavers in hot pursuit. 

Hana squeezes her way down the crowded sidewalk. Pedestrians quickly part in her wake at the sight of the men with their weapons.

Several cops bulldoze their way through the crowds on the opposite side of the street. Stop right there! a cop yells.

She pushes deeper into the shrieking onlookers, frantically escaping the scene.

Chapter 3

Sunday, Aug 11, 2080 8:50 PM

A few blocks from the ramen shop, Hana attempts to elude her pursuers down a narrow alleyway. It’s littered with dumpsters and discarded rubbish.