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Then. The blue
one. "Entertainment is the business that Amasaki Kota is in, okay? You will sing when you are told, you will dance when you are told... and you will smile whether you enjoy it or not. Listen to me, Junko-chan--" Literally. "--and listen well. If you fail me... if you do not entertain as you are told, I will simply cut your face and sell you to Yubari for his operation. You will quickly find that there are less desirable professions than singing and dancing, okay? Be like Hana-kun. She is having the time of her life." The orange one was another story. Junko had never met Hanako Tohei before they were shoved into the pink room together and told that they would become best friends or face the consequences. Hanako was the orange one because that was the color he designated for her... and because she was so shiny fucking happy. At. All. Times. Junko grew to hate Hanako. "Isn't this fun, Junko-chan? Kota-san said he will buy us ice cream if we do our best tonight so put on a brave face and don't mess this up, okay?" She hated her more than anyone she had ever known. "You should strive to be more like Hanako, Junko-chan! She knows the rules! No alcohol! No smoking! No boyfriends! You would do well to follow her example." Hanako lived for the idol lifestyle. She loved the attention that The King gave her. She loved the attention their adoring, often handsy fans gave them. She was a better singer, a better dancer, even prettier than Junko-- "Every night, I receive so many exciting offers... old men who tell me that they will take me away and give me a good life. They say that they will help with my career and that I will never want for anything--" --stronger, too. "--but I think it would be much cooler to do it on my own, right? I think if I try hard and do my best, I will find so much more success beyond this pink room." All of those traits combined reminded Amasaki, insane gangster that he was, of everything Junko wasn't and everything she would never be. Hanako was his favorite and that pushed him to spend more time with Junko and do his unhinged best to shape her into his perfect idea of an idol. "You must smile when it hurts the most, Junko-chan. That is how you win... that is how you beat them at their own game." Hanako. "When you go, please take me with you." She was so talented... so strong. Junko remembered being surprised when Hanako wanted to escape The King's headquarters with her. Her dreams really were bigger than the underground idol circuit could provide... bigger than even Amasaki and all his Yakuza connections could provide, too. She wanted to be a star... a real one. Not an amateur "idol" who performs in a shabby orange costume in Yakuza bars for the lowest of the low. Hanako wanted to be a true number one idol. Junko believed she could really make it-- --until Kota Amasaki put her in a box. BOKKUSU. Now. She could still feel the pain. The wounds were healed... that's what they do, after all. The scars remained, however, as they are also known to do. The pride she felt when she pinned Kallie Reznik and made it past the diabolical Kilroy was dwarfed by the humiliation, the feeling of inadequacy she experienced when what should have been her miracle run to the finals of the Killdozer Cup was abruptly cut short by Max Daemon. "Daemon," she said. His name rolled past her lips and she sneered like every syllable was dipped in poison. "Daemon," she repeated, then rolled off her dingy hotel bed and walked into the bathroom. The fluorescent light overhead flickered and buzzed as the fan on the wall sputtered and coughed. She turned on the faucet and splashed her face. She allowed the water to wash over her along with the knowledge that she would soon see Max Daemon again-- --and Kilroy. Kilroy. KILROY. She shook her head, doing her best not to let his spooky painted face haunt her waking moments like it haunted her dreams-- NO. NO, she thought. She refused to give him the satisfaction. "Kilroy," she said and then shut her eyes tight. She forced him back into the darkness where he belonged. "I beat you," she muttered as water dripped off her nose. In the crusty, cracked mirror in front of her, she stared into her own eyes and knew that she was a liar. She didn't beat Kilroy, she survived him. Beating Kallie Reznik isn't beating Kilroy. She knew that and she choked that thought down into the pit of her empty stomach... which lurched with hunger the second she thought of it. The thought that he was out there, still thinking of her... she shuddered and shut off the faucet. She didn't like that thought, but the more she tried to stop thinking about Kilroy, the more she thought about Max Daemon. She did everything she could-- --she did her very best. And he beat her anyway. That thought was worse. Fuck.
Then. "Junko. What a mess you have made." The escape plan was flawed as any plan formulated by two teenage girls with no real world experience might be. Junko made it out, bloody kneed and gasping for air as she ran down the street as hard and fast as she could. Hanako was captured and dragged kicking and mewling back into the pink room by Amasaki's thugs, one of them wearing the Ronald McDonald smile from cheek to cheek that she gave him before she was restrained. "I know you two like to play games, but this kind of game is not cool, okay? Why don't you come back inside and we will play a new game. Hanako is waiting." When they found her weeks later, hidden away in Hideo Chiba's run-down apartment, he fought like hell to protect her but they overwhelmed him. Amasaki's men left him unconscious, lying in a pool of his own blood. On the drive back to Amasaki's headquarters, she thought about those words again and again. "Hanako is waiting." She truly believed that until he showed her the box... until he opened it and she saw the orange costume, then it was shut and she was pushed onto her knees. She would never forget the promises they made to her that night. They were promises that were thankfully never fulfilled thanks to Hideo Chiba's arrival, fueled by alcohol, cocaine, and meth. Assisted by Takeshi Endo, the one-time bodyguard assigned to protect her and Hanako by Boss Sato, Amasaki's men were defeated in brutal, final fashion and Amasaki ended up the one on his knees. "Junko-chan, you will put in a good word for me, right?" She remembered the genuine fear in his eyes when Boss Sato arrived... and she remembered the wince on his face when the Wakizashi short sword was shoved through both of his hands like butter. Boss Sato took two knuckles from the pinkie on Hideo Chiba's left hand and banned him from Japan for all time under threat of execution should he ever return, payment for the Yakuza lives taken during his rampage. "Can I tell her one more thing, please?" The punishment would have been far more harsh if Amasaki and his men weren't such disappointments. It wasn't the underground idol circuit that Boss Sato disapproved of... but what happened to the idols once they aged out of Amasaki's service. He hated Yubari and refused to deal with him. "Junko-chan..." Boss Sato's men don't peddle flesh. "I have dreams, too."
The Killdozer Cup. The bouquet of black cherry blossoms. It freaked her out... so she threw it away-- --but the note. She kept the note, took it back to Japan and brought it back with her to Knoxville, Tennessee. She read it over and over... studied it. She couldn't figure out what it meant and that ate at her. Like Kilroy. Like Max Daemon. She knew she shouldn't focus so much energy on the card. The Heaven Sent battle royal was happening. It was coming whether she wanted it or not and she if she wasn't ready... ...she would burn. Kilroy and Max Daemon would be there, waiting. She plucked the card from her bag and looked at the black text stamped on the red card, eyes narrowed, fully focused. even if
you lose tonight, you are There was a knock on the door. The knock was similar in weight and cadence to the one at the Killdozer Cup, when the bouquet and card were left behind for her. The sound nearly made her jump out of her socks and she touched her chest, a vain attempt to still her heart before it pounded through her ribcage. She didn't know why but she thought of that night... heard his voice. "Junko-chan..." She approached the door and looked out the peephole. She saw a fleck of what she swore was orange and then nothing. Against any sound judgment she might have had, she slid the chain lock out of place. She opened the door and looked outside. The night was dark and the air was cool on her face. "I have dreams, too." Another bouquet of cherry blossoms, dripping black. Another card. "I always wanted to sing and dance with you two." Junko looked around nervously, seeing nothing and no one in the distance. She knelt by the bouquet and picked up the card. The text on the new card wasn't stamped, but written in pen... the elegant but flowery handwriting of a young girl. Junko narrowed her eyes, holding up the card so that she might be able to read it better. do you remember our room? so much pink Junko stared at the card and then turned it over, reading the other side. She didn't understand the words right away-- they painted it red when you left --and then it hit her and her blood ran cold. "That is funny, I think. A happy thought." Junko stood and looked out across the parking lot. "Go now. Let these fine men do what they do." For a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of orange in the distance and her heart skipped a beat... but that moment passed and nothing remained but the smell of the nearby dumpster. "Hey, Junko-chan... we had fun, right?" She took the card inside and locked the door. She left the bouquet just as she left the last one. That night, she read the card again and she thought about Kilroy, Max Daemon, the Heaven Sent battle royal, and the idea of winning it, the idea of not being burned alive, and the idea of facing Johnny Bacchus or Lissie Hope for the championship. She thought about her dreams and how Hanako never got to achieve hers-- "...put on a brave face and don't mess this up, okay?" --Hanako. Junko held the card tight and made a promise. "I will not... mess... this... up. Kilroy... Max Daemon... nobody will stand... in... my... way," she forced the words through gritted teeth. A tear rolled down her cheek. "When you go, please take me with you."
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