FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

May 29th

"Um, sir?"

The sound of a bell was devoured by the screams.

"Sir?!"

But there was something far worse awaiting him.

"SIR!"

He dreaded this moment. That long pull back towards reality.

"HEY, SIR?!"

It was a light at the end of his consciousness. A golden shadow burning his eye.

"EX_CUSE ME!_"

"U-uh? Oh, sorry ma'am."

He turned from the wall to be greeted by a scowling kappa in a summer dress.

"I was just...hearing something wrong with the AC, how can I help?"

"Well," she huffed, "I am HERE to cash in my tokens thank you!"

"Alright, sorry again, ma'am."

The moment he slipped out of his reprieve he drowned in the sea of pachinko machines. A thousand and one Arabian slots reeled violently with tales of yore defiled and smeared across the rows with garish lights, hordes of kaiju pulling levers and pounding buttons as coins rattled in and balls spilled out, if they were lucky.

Every day was a fresh new hell to discover, assaulting his hearing with the howls of synthetic banshees and even worse, the customers approaching him in his small booth with cash register and door to the backroom. Customers such as the kappa, as well as long-bodies dogs, bloated catfish and a variety of reptiles and insects bashing claws into panels and clutching their coins.

Standing at the counter was Gen Ganbe, a bird-like kaiju with steel beak and green head where a pair of wide mandibles framed his mouth beneath a red single eye gleaming upon the balls he took from the kappa. Counting with a practiced stare, he lined up the tiny marbles and handed her some tokens.

"Thank you," she bowed stiff and snatched them away.

"Come back soon...when you're dead in a fucking ditch."

He muttered the last words to himself, staring down at his long single-clawed feet wrapped in black-sandalled spats, scritching his claws into the wacky carpet with jazz strips. His body, when not dressed in a red dipstick outfit more resembling a bellhop than a cashier, was a dull viridian accentuated by small yellow wings fanning from his back.

A happy trail of spikes poked out the front of his uniform, but were capped with magnetic buttons to cover their points. His hands of three silver-clawed fingers tapped on the desk, briefly forming a sickle-shape when pressed together.

"Scuse me!" A spider with four buckets in six arms came rolling up. "Just cashing in my good kaiju!"

"Very good sir, congratulations."

He took the buckets and counted them careful, handing the spider his tokens as a queue started to form, the clerk doling out more accordingly as the foul pervasive air of a warm casino bore down on Gen's steel mohawk. Just one more hour, he had thought to himself, just as he had thought the last hour, and the hour before that.

"Eyyy," a voice droned behind him.

"Ohhh thank fuck you're here," he turned round to his guest, "I was this close to slitting."

"Heh, you or the customers?"

"Them, and then myself."

"Wow okay, drag me down with your sad why dontcha."

Stepping into the booth was Meiji Garonba, a husky-bodied stag beetle with a long tail, wearing a cheap suit that still looked nicer than his friend's. The newcomer's head was capped by a sharp multi-pointed horn, his large two eyes dotted with amber hexagons as he scratched his insectoid mouth with ash-grey fingers, his face resembling the front grill of a car.

"You doin' good Gen-chan?" asked Meiji.

"What do YOU think?" his friend snarled plucking his suit. "Dressed like I'm at fucking Geiger King, serving morons their fake-ass money so they can piss off to some exchange centre to get actual money, cuz this garbage-ass parlour is TECHNICALLY not gambling if we don't give them the money directly."

"Wait...is THAT why we do this?" the beetle cocked his head.

"YES that's why we're doing this Mei-chan, what you think the Jinuchu were just hoarding balls to themselves like fuckin' weirdos?!"

"I mean...I did kinda wonder why they didn't just break open the machines an' take it all fer themselves."

"Ugh..." Gen cupped his beak, "fuck my life."

"Well I got you your fave drink, does that help?"

"Yeah gimme."

The beetle pulled out a can of hot black coffee, Gen popping it open to gulp down a quart of it with a shudder through his crimson eye.

"HHhhnnngh gods, yeah fuck me that's good."

"That's later dude," the beetle nudged him.

"Shit I wannit now, just anything to wake me up."

"It'll feel a lot better back at our place."

"So uh," Gen took another sip, "what's new outside, did I miss anything?"

"Nah," Meiji shrugged, "Nagoya Wyverns struck out again."

"Aw for FUCK'S sake," the bird kicked his foot against the wall, "glad I stopped betting on that shit at least."

"Yeaaaah same. I got nuthin' right now so I'll hang with ya 'til we close."

"Thanks dude."

A deep sigh came from Gen as he endured the next two hours, tempered by his friend's rambling conversations that helped ease his suffering against the face of ball-dropping imbeciles and the screams of synthetics ghouls inside machines. The lack of windows made the place oppressive, time was an illusion and the gambling moreso as he waited until the calling bell that would signify all players to gather their tokens and leave.

"Ganbe, Garonba."

A tall thin cockroach in an orange waistcoat sauntered towards them.

"All accounted for?"

"Yep," the one-eyed clerk tapped a stack of receipts, "all good."

"Right, the machines seem fine today so you guys can leave."

"Thank fuck," Gen snapped off his red suit as the buttons parted from his spikes, "if this place burns down do NOT even call me cuz I will not come running-"

"Yes you will." The roach slammed his fist on the counter. "Don't forget you belong here, if I want you to burn down in this place, you lie down and burn."

"Well if that happens I'm keeping the tokens, and melting all that shit over me, then you have to bury me with your money."

"Hah, Gold Ganbe," the beetle snorted.

"Fuckin' right?!" the two high-foured. "I'll break all your spines when you carry me to my grave!"

"That's the police's job," the cockroach pulled out a cigarette, "Garonba, light."

"Yes sir," the beetle lurched forth with a lighter from his pocket.

"And if I did have to dispose of you," the insect took a deep drag, "rest assured you won't get a coffin. The ocean'll do that for free."

"Yeah but-KHH, ECHHH!"

Ganbe's voice was stifled by a thick cloud of smoke, projecting from his boss' mandibles.

"Put your uniform away, respectfully." He stubbed out his cig on the counter. "And clean that up, we're a fucking business, not your shitty hovel."

The boss walked out the side entrance of the parlour, the clerk at the counter forcing the last of the second-hand smoke from his lungs before taking out a cloth and furniture polish from under the counter. Scrubbing out the stub and cigarette butts, he walked off to the changing room in the back with a few lockers, a bench and several cabinets.

"Fuckin' Tagasuki," Ganbe tossed his shirt in his locker.

"He's not that bad," the beetle opened his own, "he's stuck here as much as you."

"So why's he gotta make it shit for me huh?!" He slipped down his red pants showing his naked thighs. "I do my job, I bring in the yen, well, no of course not cuz that would be gambling."

"Gen-chan come on let's just chill," Meiji pulled off his shirt showing his taut brown muscles, "wanna go to the arcade?"

"No," Gen grabbed a pair of jeans, "I wanna be outside, I wanna remember what the sky looks like, is the moon still out there?!"

"Uhhh, I think so," the beetle kicked off his sandal-spats, "I haven't checked."

"Please tell me you're joking." Gen pulled out his leather jacket and slammed the locker shut. "Meiji, if I missed the fuckin' moon falling on us-"

"Uhhhh," Garonba slipped on his green hoodie, "I mean, it wuzn't on the news or anythin' so-"

"Ugh, fine, let's get out of here and see."

They walked through the back and headed out into the alley. The sun had gone as the sounds of cars and motorbikes roared with thundering wheels of rickshaws manned by pillbugs. Ganbe and Garonba stepped from the narrow passage of stone and wandered onto Iyazaki Road, a large thoroughfare of shops lining both sides of a cobblestoned street that went across a central road, to stretch further north into a second street full of cafes and restaurants.

Gen looked behind himself to see the Kusonami pachinko parlour, the lights shutting off its gaudy red and orange gleam of a strange two-wave logo shouting its colours before it went to sleep. Yokohama had all the makings of a port city; the sound of calling ships and heavy cranes creaking with cargo; the salty sting of the ocean with that slight silvery malaise of fish; and a certain dampness in the air that rested lightly upon their heads. As they walked to the north end of Iyazaki Road, soft clouds of magenta rolled over the dormant eve beneath the waning moon.

"Hey," the beetle nudged Gen pointing up, "moon's still there, we're good!"

"Oh yeah?" the bird rolled his eye. "You sure a piece of it didn't fall off?"

"N-nah...pretty sure it just does that Gen-chan."

"Kay well, I need to like, swing some fucking balls so can we roll on by the batting centre before we get home?"

"Sure but, you don't wanna get sum food first?"

"Yeaaah actually I'm starving, good call."

The streets of Yokohama carried the scents of the sea wherever they roamed, as they stared at the buildings around them in the growing dusk. The station was the most prominent, a stone pavilion that split the district in half through the centre with railways lifted upwards on huge struts. Tannoys and speeding roars came with steel trains that shot like bullets and slithered like serpents across the rails, bringing those back and forth to the district of Issincho, a homely locale beside a widening river that stretched along the western border.

Kaiju blustered through the central building, a long granite hall that opened from its sides with gates unlocked by electronic tickets to the railways above, as the bird and the beetle walked through and headed northwest to the more affluent parts of the district. To the north directly was Sunshine Castle, a grand prodigious building used for governmental affairs that towered above all with its 19th-century aesthetic of esteemed arches and slanting roofs.

To the west of that was a sports centre with two tennis courts, a small soccer pitch, and the batting centre at the end of the street. Nearby they found an affordable cafe where they snacked on some toasted sandwiches and a few cups of coffee to get their strength back. The batting centre was close to the edge of Issincho District, with large nets draping the back, and the sound of clonking steel rang sharp from within as they stepped inside to the counter.

"Welcome!" a red cow bowed to them. "How can I help you?"

"Intermediate," Ganbe tapped the desk.

"Alrighty, just one or both of you?"

"I'm down if you are," Garonba grinned from behind.

"Fine, two."

The avian slammed down 600 yen as they were given their bats, stepping through to where a large green plateau welcomed them to an even bigger screen of painted targets. Lining the walls beneath the targets were pitching machines, one for each entrance with a projector screen of a pitcher warming up.

"Tell you right now," Gen started his swings, "if this place weren't here, I'd have fucking burnt down that parlour myself."

"You really shouldn't tell me that," Meiji shook his head.

"Why, you gonna report me?" he scuffed his clawed feet in the mound.

"N-no but...just, you wanna keep on good behaviour, that's not good behaviour."

"Gihei's not the dude I want to tell me about good behaviour."

"But he IS our boss," the beetle shrugged, "what you gonna do?"

"This," Gen scuffed his clawed feet in the mound, "until I'm free of that fucking place, I'm gonna keep sharpening up my swing."

The pitcher made its move, swinging a fastball from the machine as Ganbe struck hard with a wide sweep, the ball clacking against his bat to hit the ground in a roll.

"Least it ain't a foul!" Garonba grinned.

"It's not the fucking Little League!" Gen snapped. "I don't need your mom-from-the-sidelines shit."

"Just sayin' you can do worse, Gen-chan!"

"I'll feel better after this. Thanks for the coffee by the way."

"No worries." Meiji watched him crack another swing. "Anytime you need a pick-me-up, you just lemme know."

"Appreciate it bro."

"Don't tire yerself out too much," said Meiji stepping back, "wanna save your energy."

"I'm not the one who needs to save their energy-HWA-NNNGH!" A screwball came veering to Gen's left that he thwacked. "FUCKIN' ASSHOLE!"

"Yeah I hate those ones too."

"Come at me with that shit next time I'll shove this right up your-HNN-NNNRAARGH!"

A solid strike to a sinker, the ball trying to aim low to trick him when he swung for the bleachers and it went searing high to hit the targets above. A fanfare burst from the rafters with a few dazzling lights.

"YEAAAAHAHAAH HOME RUN!" Meiji clapped. "GANBE, THE LEGEND!"

"Hey-ey not yet," said Gen twirling his bat, "when I hit past three, then you start cheering."

Over the next seven swings he made three more home runs, cracking ball after ball with ferocious strength and twitching muscles of little furies that trickled through his arm and clutched his bat with a strangling force. Once his turn was over, he stepped off the plate with a sigh of relief and let Garonba take the bat.

"Alriiight," the beetle grinned, "time for my training!"

"Wait what?"

"I mean since I'm here," Meiji stretched his twin-clawed feet in the mound, "been thinking a lot about swords lately, you know, how they're all pointy at the end?"

"Yeah, that's how swords work," Ganbe rolled his eye.

"But like, in the old days samurai always cut shit, like big wide sweeps doing the HWAH, YAH!"

He made a cross-slash to demonstrate.

"But not a whole lotta jabbing, you know, not much thrusting."

"Ahhh huh."

"But you got a lotta force in thrusting, if you do it right...heh," he looked at his friend, "you know what I'm talking about right Gen-DUHH!"

"Eyes on the ball dipshit."

A baseball punched the side of Meiji's head as he stumbled back, snickering with rippling mandibles over his tightly-packed mouth. Tensing his legs and bending his knees, he lined the bat directly forwards in a straight line next to his eye as he waited for the ball to come. A curveball came flying, that he chose not to hit. A sinker came thunking, he chose not to hit.

"The fuck are you doing?!" gasped Ganbe.

"Got a new idea for a move," said Garonba, "thinking about that thrusting force, like a sword."

"It's a BAT, it's got no fucking blade on the end!"

"So, it's still gonna hurt!"

"You can't fucking hit anything, look!" he pointed at a screwball veering from the left. "Anything comes at you from the side, nothing, you can't hit shit!"

"So I wait for a fastball," Meiji shrugged keeping the bat straight, "every move's got a weakness."

"Your brain's got a weakness."

"Heeey don't be like that, I'm treatin' you tonight."

"Fine, do what you want, s'only three-hundred yen out of my wallet."

"I'll pay you back, Grouchy-Gen."

"Don't fuckin' call me that, assface!"

None of the balls would suffer Meiji's wrath, his powerful super move yet to be seen as he managed a few forward thrusts, but none came close to the sweet spot he was searching for. Once their time was up, they walked back south as the sun was but a sliver beneath the horizon, the light yielding to the moon when they headed past the station and took a small bridge across the river.

At the far west of Issincho there lied the Bar District, a sultry low-rent strip of cheap taverns and cheaper rooms where all things considered, Ganbe and Garonba had one of the best houses in the region. A second-story apartment, with a pleasant view of the large single tree growing in a sad empty lot.

"Nnnngh," Gen dragged his feet through the door, "fucking finally."

"You wanna shower first?" Meiji kicked the door shut.

"Yeah I'm sweating like a bitch and smell like depression."

"Hey-ey, I thought we got all that out at the batting range."

"Nah I'm just tired as shit now."

"I told you." He patted his friend's shoulder.

The apartment was a little cramped for two creatures, a small kitchen sink in the hallway that led to a central room where one single bed sat opposite a TV and next to the window, from which the last fingers of light crept across its covers. A closet stood in the corner, the bathroom a separate room with a shower and toilet that they shuffled into after undressing. Stepping first in the shower, Meiji turned on the hot water inviting Ganbe to join him, as they budged up pressing their naked bodies against each other.

"Hey, watch them spikes," said Meiji.

"Shut up you can handle them," snarled Gen.

"Alright, I'll do your wings."

Pouring a lotion in his hands, the bug started with Ganbe's vellum-coloured wings, lathering them with SkyHigh-brand membranic softener that helped ease the blood flow through them. Once he was done, he grabbed the scale-polishing shampoo, smothering his friend's cool green scales and pale chest of flaxen bronze in a bubbly thick conditioner.

"Mmmmhhhh..."

"That good Gen-chan?" muttered Garonba.

"Yeaaaaah," the bird sighed, "ohhh jeez-"

"Get some energy back in ya for tonight? I know you wannit."

"Fuck do I ever...hnnnnnnghhhh."

Scrubbing his steel-tinted fingers across Ganbe's belly, the beetle wrapped his arms round him with a tender bite to his cheek, just above the mandible as a soft teasing nibble of his many pincers. His taut pectorals rubbed between Ganbe's wings, whose tail had slipped between Meiji's legs and pressed against the beetle's own.

"You ever thought we both would be like this?" Gen murmured leaning back. "S'not what a handler's supposed to do."

"Ehhh," Garonba stroked his friend's belly, "I'm keeping you under wraps aren't I?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"What, you call it something else?"

"I know what you call it...alright my turn."

Turning themselves round, Gen went to work on his friend, sudsing his back and scrubbing Meiji down with sharp grey fingers to dig into the joints, dark copper gleaming underneath as he slipped towards his friend's crotch.

"Oooooh what's this?"

"Ha-aaah!"

"That your little gift for me Mei-chan?" Ganbe teased.

"Y-yeah," the bug whimpered, "d-didntcha learn not to open your presents early?"

"Nah fuck that, I wannit now."

"What like, now, here?"

"Ehhh, I'd rather not stab you if I fall, let's get out first."

Scrubbing the last of the polisher down, they stepped out the shower and dried themselves with teflon-coated towels, hard against their scales despite its soft fluttery texture as it tore away the pieces of grit between their scales. Their bed was greeted by the moon, the sounds of creaking in their ears as the bed shook with their bodies, gasping moans and stuttering cries from Gen burying his head into the pillow.

By the time they were done, they felt their muscles unwind and their bodies unclench, pulling themselves apart after a few more breaths. They rolled onto their backs, staring at the ceiling, the rays of the silver moon tracing over Gen's face as they stretched their legs beneath the sheets.

"Damn," Ganbe sighed, "how'd you get that good at sucking dick?"

"Practiced on you long enough," Meiji grinned turning to him.

"Never thought I was that good a teacher."

"Yeah, or a good trainin' dummy."

"The fuck you say?!"

Gen raised his fist in a mocking snarl before they laughed, the bird reaching over to his bedside table and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to the beetle as they lit up and pulled a thick drag into their lungs, tasting the spark of atoms splitting apart in the smoke.

"See this?" Ganbe gestured. "This, is the life I'm cool with."

"Yeah." Meiji puffed through his pincers. "I'm alright with this."

"Just you and me and nothing else, fuck the world outside."

"Ey-ey, don't say that, there's plenty good stuff out there."

"Not to me."

The bird took a smoke from the side of his beak and stared through the window beside them.

"Only good thing in my life is right here, next to me."

"...damn Gen."

He felt Meiji's arm slip over his shoulders as he cuddled up to him.

"Whut if I'm out there then?"

"Huh?" he looked down at the beetle.

"Whut if I'm outside?" Meiji laid his head on Gen's stomach. "That means there's somethin' out there for ya."

"Hah...I guess."

"Then I better stay outside more so you can be outside too-ow!"

"Spikes bro, come on," Gen tapped Meiji's head.

"Naaah I'm good." He nuzzled against the little spikes. "I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"Nah." The avian looked up to the moon. "I wouldn't...would I?"

"Who else could stand you?" the beetle closed his compound eyes.

"Not me," murmured Ganbe.

Taking the last drag of his cigarette, he doused it in the ashtray and took the one from Meiji's mouth to extinguish it properly. The light from the moon crossed over the walls like a pale curtain, the sounds of the city breathing with frenzy in its selfish urges on every street. Ganbe stayed up a few minutes after Meiji fell asleep, his bare chest of silver spikes gently heaving before he slipped under the covers, and joined his comrade in a full embrace.

================

There was a dream that Gen had every once a while. A dream that infected him, crawled into his eye and carved through his waking mind as his body tensed with a feverish shudder. There was a house on a lane, with purple walls and a white door next to an alley where a light flickered deep. The humming drone of its broken lamp burned in his head with every blink showing nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Someone against the wall. Nothing. Nothing. Someone falling to the floor. Nothing. Nothing. The golden shadow grabbing him, nothing, nothing, the red spray of blood, nothing, nothing, the savage thundering fist that crunched his stomach, nothing, nothing, nothing, the child in the doorway.

Gen found himself looking out of the alley rather than within. The golden shadow smiled at him. He prayed to the heavens, to gods, for the light to not flicker again, to stay awake, to hold on and keep the demon at bay. Blink. The child was gone. Blink. His hands were now red. Blink. He heard his own scream. Blink. His arm was broken, as he lied on the alley floor staring towards the flickering light.

Blink.

A god had answered his prayers, wrapped in golden scales, and sent him into hell.

=================

His eye opened with the demon's passing, the light of the sun briefly taking on his image and for a brief moment Ganbe saw the creature standing over him. He shot up with a start, back in his room, the old TV sitting in the corner as he grabbed the remote to turn it on, something, anything monotonous to chase away his thoughts and keep his room safe from the demon.

His arm trembled as the TV took its time, warming up conductors with every second killing him slowly, his heart racing and his voice trapped in his throat, shivering to the edge of tears before a murmuring laugh came from the screen. A daytime show about a celebrity has-been, talking to other celebrity has-beens with safe-for-work anecdotes and heartwarming creature stories.

"Oh, shit, morning."

He felt Meiji rustle awake next to him.

"Bad sleep?"

"Hmm?" Gen didn't turn his head.

"You always turn the TV on when you had a bad dream-"

"No I don't."

"...kay."

His friend knew better than to argue, the beetle rolling out of bed to walk to the kitchen sink where the cupboards were. Ganbe sighed with relief hearing the open-and-shut, the crunching of packets and the scattering of grains into a bowl with reality seeping in, the demon banished from his mind. Then he turned his head to see Garonba poking out his tongue between his mandibles, as he scribbled on the back of a cereal box.

"What are you doing-"

"Sh-sh-shhh, almost got it," Meiji muttered, "and...awwww dammit, I fell in the hole!"

"The what?"

"Look!" Meiji showed the maze on the back of the box. "I fell in the death pit!"

"It...you know that's for kids right?"

"Noooo it says ages three and up, and I'm up over three!"

"Ugh, whatever," Gen waved his hand.

"Gonna have to buy another box," the beetle muttered putting it back, "you ever read the back of cereal boxes and think wizards are hiding spells in there for other wizards to see?"

Gen watched his friend walk back naked with a bowl of cereal.

"Just, I dunno, riboflavin? That sounds made up."

"I think that's nutrition shit," the avian shrugged.

"OOOH!" the bug sat back on the bed. "What if there's some secret wizard society that uses cereal boxes to share spells, someone should write a book about that!"

"Why don't YOU write it then?"

"...alright, sure! Where do I write it though?"

"I dunno, the library?!" Gen threw his hands. "That's where all the books are!"

"Oh yeah, cool!"

Chewing his cereal with a dozen pincers, Meiji shuffled closer to his friend as Ganbe lit a morning cigarette to wake himself up. His stomach begged for food as his lungs filled with radiation, watching the daytime show pull up a sappy editorial with a picture of a scientist resembling a crocodile.

"In other news, today we celebrate the birth of Genshiro Kuribayante, the inventor of the first miniature atomic battery that revolutionised the modern age."

"Uuugh who gives a fuck," Gen sighed blowing smoke above his head.

"Born in Kyoto in 1942 after the World War ended, Kuribayante was fascinated with organic science from an early age, helping his mother in their garden and learning how flowers pollinate."

"What's flowers got to do with science?" Meiji kept chomping his cereal. "Don't they like, grow on their own, you don't even have to do the work."

"I dunno," the steel-beak shrugged, "plants are weird."

"You think plants talk? Like, to each other?"

"What the fuck would they have to talk about? 'Oh hey, nice dirt', 'yeah thanks it's really exhausting just sitting here my eternal fucking life'."

"PFFFT HEHEHEEEHEE, yer funny," Garonba nudged him, "what are we up to today?"

"I don't know, I just don't wanna leave this place."

"Yeah but...we have to."

"I know, that's the worst part. I guess we're doing more work at the fucking parlour."

"I'll bring you more coffee," the beetle rubbed his friend.

"In 1981," continued the TV, "Kuribayante developed his crowning achievement, the miniature atomic battery that is still in use to this day, in almost everything we use in our daily life! Not only was it the most refined process of converting nuclear energy to electrical, but without any of the bleeding effects that had long pervaded older unsafe models that, while having little effect on kaiju themselves, were a constant threat to the natural world."

"How come we're cool with radiation but nothing else is?" the beetle stirred his cereal. "Like, they keep telling you the fish in the sea don't like it."

"Cuz we evolved or something, I dunno," Ganbe took a deep puff, "I don't work in a fucking museum."

"Why not?"

"Oh gee I dunno, maybe cuz I'm a fucking dropout Mei-Chan."

"You can like, take classes and stuff.

"You really think I got the smarts to be anywhere good at that?"

"Yeah. I do, Gen-chan."

Something slightly broke in Gen's heart as he looked away. The editorial finished on a picture of another crocodilian scientist, draped in a lab coat studying chemical patterns and mixing tubes.

"Today Kuribayante is survived by his only child, Ukyo, who continued their father's work at R.O.S.E, the institute of Research for Organic Science Enterprises. Founded by their father, the institute is now privatised by Resco since 2013-"

"What kinda shit they do there?" muttered Gen trying to hide a tear.

"Maybe they're learning if plants can talk," Meiji gasped.

"Mei-chan stop talking about fucking plants!"

"Plants hear things dude! You ever heard that phrase 'whispers on the wind'?"

"That's not what it...fuck's sake." Ganbe palmed his face. "Whatever it's time to leave."

"You not getting breakfast?"

"Nah I'm getting a takeaway," Ganbe lifted his naked form out of bed, "you coming?"

"Sure," Meiji stood up finishing his cereal, "lemme treat ya, pay you back for the baseball."

"Heh, sure, thanks."

Putting on his leather jacket and jeans, Ganbe stepped out as Meiji put away his bowl and took a blue hoodie with loose pants for the day. Stepping out into the Bar District, they went east beside the central motorway next to Djinnai Station, passing by the Ameritown district to the south with its English graffiti and US flags showing 35 stars.

"Yanno what that organic science should be studying?" Garonba asked looking up. "Where the sun goes at night, does anyone know?"

"Yes!" Gen looked at him agasp. "I told you before, like a dozen times!"

"But like...why does it do that though?"

"Because the Earth fucking rotates!"

"But...the sun is the one moving, I read that in a manga, there's this almighty dragon who pulls the sun along on a chariot to make sure all the planets in the galaxy get sunlight!"

"Mei-chan, that's NOT REAL!" Gen slapped his knees.

"But it could be though!" Meiji jumped with a giddy step. "You never been to space, what if the dragon chariot's really good at hiding from us?!"

"Do you really fucking think, in the last two-thousand years creatures wouldn't notice a big FUCKING GOD CHARIOT dragging the ENTIRE SUN across the sky?!"

"They did bro, it's in the manga!"

Gen took a deep breath and started to scream on the inside, his head shaking with fury before they entered Iyazaki Road and went straight to the Geiger King. A two-level diner with faux-wood panelling, the red and yellow decor plastered the Geiger King from the chairs to the tables to the ceiling. The front of the diner was significant in its giant T-rex chasing after a cute burger with eyes, as Gen ordered a fried-egg burger with morning coffee whilst Meiji bought a teriyaki burger, a big shake and some fries they shared at a table.

Bracing himself for the hell of pachinko, Gen returned to the Kusonami parlour and buttoned up back into his minimum-wage outfit, Garonba joining him as they stood through the long-suffering day of digitised screams and a few real ones whenever a patron would earn, or lose, some of their savings. Meiji however kept his friend's sanity with nonplussed questions about the world, things that someone could easily search for on their phone but decided Gen would be his oracle.

"Why is it traffic cones but not traffic squares?" asked the beetle.

"Dude, I don't know," sighed the steel-beak.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of cones, love them, great for ice cream but...not sure why someone wanted to put them on the road."

"I really don't care Mei-chan."

"But like, I guess the shape makes sense, cuz they stack really well, like you just slide one on, OOOH yanno what, they do that with ice cream too cuz when I go to the ice cream shop, I alway see cones just slotted in together."

"Huh...yanno yer right," Gen looked to him, "that is weird, how they do that and they all just fit fogether like, wouldn't it just run out of space?"

"Right?!" Meiji grinned spreading his arms. "How do cones do that, why do cones gotta be like that?!"

"I don't know, maybe you can check that up at the library."

"MMM, yeah I could!"

"Scuse me!"

A crab with brown pincers and a high-school uniform scuttled up to the desk.

"Can I get some pachinko balls please?"

"...kid," Gen squinted, "how old are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does, you shouldn't be here."

"Why not?!" the crab snorted.

"Because you shouldn't be gambling at your age."

"Yeah, and this ain't gambling." The youngster thrust forwards a yen bill. "Gimme balls for the machines."

"Listen you little-"

"UHHH yeah yeah balls coming right up!"

Garonba quickly stepped in and handed over a bucket, the crab marching off somewhat insulted as Ganbe turned to his friend even more outraged.

"What the FUCK dude?!"

"She's a customer!"

"She was like fourteen she shouldn't be here!"

"Why not?"

"Look at this shit!" he thrust his hand at the machines. "Everyone of these sad fucks are gonna spiral in debt, and we're making it worse!"

"Shut up."

The voice of the cockroach made him flinch as he turned to see his employer loom over him. His orange suit was louder than the machines, two arms crossed with one arm tapping a cigarette of a particular brand of high-society smoke.

"If you want to lecture creatures about the sins of society, you go to a fucking temple."

"She's still in high school," said Ganbe pointing at the crab, "she can't be here Tagasuki-san!"

"Oh?" the insect turned to the young customer. "And why not?"

"She...cuz she's a fucking kid-NNNGH!"

The hand of Tagasuki gripped his shoulder with a painful crush from two hands.

"I decide who you serve, you egg-shitting abortion. We have a wall, of creatures we don't serve, that caused trouble here before, and if that little brat is not on it, you DON'T refuse."

"Nnnngh...s-so I just serve...anyone, even if they're in diapers?"

"Yes." The cockroach grinned lowering his voice. "If they can talk, and say 'pachinko please', you give them those little steel balls, and take their money. That is the only job you can be trusted with, to stand here, and smile like a fucking idiot."

Tagasuki shoved him back, straightening his suit and heading back to the entrance where he greeted newcomers. Gen turned himself towards the wall where a list of faces and names were highlighted for those previously banned from the establishment.

"Mei-chan."

Garonba kept his eyes on him.

"Promise me one thing...if I end up on the news, you tell them about that kid who came here asking for pachinko balls."

"Uhhh...s-sure," the beetle nodded, "you want me to get you something."

"About ten gallons of gasoline."

"Uhhhh..." he pulled out his wallet, "I don't got enough for one even."

"Ehhh, maybe one day," the bird shrugged.

"Wait...why do you need gasoline, you don't have a car."

"Oh for fuck's sake."

Gen clutched his beak with a groan, struggling to survive the rest of the day as more tedium ensued between Meiji's speeches and the pachinko clattering away. For a moment he drifted out of time and an hour suddenly passed, a blessing from the depths of his mind before lunchtime came and he enjoyed a break from the mundanity. The rest of the day went by as agonisingly slow, before the buzzer sounded to tell everyone to take their winnings and leave.

"Alright, you're done." Tagasuki walked back to them at the desk. "You're wanted at HQ by the way."

"Awww fucking what?" whimpered Gen.

"Stop whining you bitch, get down there and don't piss off the boss."

With a sigh of frustration, Ganbe went to change out his clothes and his handler followed him, taking the long road north then east to where Chinatown was situated. The only authentic thing in Chinatown was the language used, everything else was a tourist trap catering to those who wanted a little taste of mainland Asia without the plane ticket.

Golden bodies of long serpentine dragons wreathed around pillars everywhere they looked, scarlet poles of fire-hardened wood separating shops where pork buns, fried rice and roasted duck were being served by the dozen. Under the splendid painted gate they entered through the narrow streets of tightly-packed restaurants and souvenir shops, charming cat figurines holding coins to wish one luck if purchased for a sizeable sum.

The cackling chatter of both locals and tourists swirled around Ganbe's ears, deafening his senses whilst Meiji stared in awe at the flashing crimson colours and paper-lantern dragons snaking above their heads. Their destination was the former Jinuchu headquarters, now relegated to being a branch rather than the main office but losing none of its fearsome lustre.

At one time it had been a restaurant, before the Jinuchu Clan had taken over which was a time that most creatures in Chinatown did not remember. Rising above the cluttered street, the grand faux-pagoda towered a good 8 levels with black-lacquer roof and crimson walls. It made Gen sick to his stomach as he approached the red tiger standing at the imperial door.

"Ahh, Garonba." The guard purred a bass rumble and stepped aside. "Not seen you in a while."

"Hey dude," Meiji waved, "is the boss in?"

"He is, wait at the usual spot."

Opening the door to let them through, the tiger gave only a look towards Gen who said nothing as they stepped in. There were chairs and tables still from its restaurant days, where guards sat in wait carrying blades and pistols beneath the stunning winding staircase of red and gold gilding.

A stunning triptych of three dragons oversaw the entire room, their heads stretching out from a single body at least 20 feet high, that clutched the Earth itself in their claws. Waterfalls ran off their shoulders and down to the pool below where they saw rare ornamental fish swimming through.

"Ganbe."

A smart-suited kappa stood at the winding stairs.

"Follow me, don't slack."

They followed in suit, despite their less-formal appearance which made them stand out more. Up to the second floor they went through the back passages of former staff quarters, passing several rooms where thugs sat and bantered, drinking coffee, watching TV, playing darts or mahjong to pass the time. Garonba kept behind his friend, saying nothing for once as they took another flight of stairs ever higher towards the top floor of the building.

The further they ascended, the more brutalist the architecture, as they found office blocks and cubicles where illegal accounts were filed and slavishly sorted by obedient workers hunched over their desks. At the top of the tower, they found the door to their patriarch's domain, wreathed in bolts of lightning painted fool's gold. The sound of hammering blows heard from within briefly stopped when the kappa knocked.

"Ganbe and Garonba, here for you sir."

"Come in."

The voice from beyond made them shudder as the door opened. Inside was a medium-sized office with only a single black desk, several training poles with wooden arms that stood rigid in the corners, and a punching bag wrapped in a disturbingly fleshy texture that resembled scales. A golden dragon, bare-chested with crimson slacks was ducking and weaving around the bag, crunching fists into its side with sharp breaths and sudden swerves as the two visitors waited patiently, moreso because there were no chairs anywhere to sit.

A bedroom was in the back, which they had never gone into and they silently hoped they never would. Their boss kept through his routine, driving his knuckles deep into the punching bag with exceptional body of muscular physique, built like a middleweight boxer with glistening sheen over his flaxen scales, his taut rippling back and strong pectorals twitching with every fist that crunched with the sickening sound of flesh being crumpled.

His long neck slithered like a serpent about to strike, his horns like rising flames cast in solid gold as he snarled with a chuckling gasp everytime his fist landed true and flecked a scale off his bag. He stopped two minutes after, grabbing a towel from nearby to daub the sweat from his face.

"Not seen you boys in a while," the dragon grinned, "how's my little pachinko parlour?"

"Great, Gihei-sama!" Meiji bowed with Ganbe following. "It's going real well, still a lotta folks dumping their cash in."

"And how 'bout you, Ganbe-kun?"

His eyes of gleaming white burned with thin black pupils into Gen's stiffening face.

"How's my favourite little one-eyed goon?"

"G-good...Gihei-sama," said Ganbe taking a breath, "did you...want to see me, boss?"

"Well let's not get straight down to business," Gihei tossed the towel on his desk, "I wanna know how things are going, what's it like working at the place, do you enjoy it?"

"It's...fine, Gihei-sama?"

"Fine? What it's just FINE, issat true Garonba-kun?"

"W-well." Meiji rubbed his arm and looked to his friend. "He uh...he really hates it sir, but he does his best and he never complains in front of the customers!"

"Well that's good." The dragon leaned on his desk showing his abs. "So what's the problem?"

"He...he thinks that, we pretend it isn't gambling but it actually is and he don't like that."

"Ohhh? Is my little goon growing a conscience?"

"No," the bird looked down at his feet, "it's just, there was a kid who came in and I thought-"

"Ganbe." Gihei snarled causing him to look up. "Look at me when I fucking talk to you."

"Y-yes, boss!" the steel-beak clenched with a stiffening of his arms.

"So you hate gambling huh?" The dragon walked forwards spreading his arms. "Look at you mister fucking moral crusader, gonna make a protest or something?!"

"N-no, boss I just...I hate working in that place."

"I know you do." Gihei's shadow loomed over him. "That's the point, because you didn't fucking listen to me the last time I told you to do something."

The dragon's claws gripped his shoulder. Gen started to shake with a growing fear from his touch as the boss looked to Meiji.

"Your friend doing good otherwise, Garonba-kun?"

"Yes boss," the beetle nodded, "he's doing real good, never troubles the customers."

"Alright. You go wait outside."

His hand wrapped around the bird and pulled him towards the desk.

"I wanna talk a little more with Ganbe before he leaves."

Gen looked back to Meiji with a desperate plea in his eye. Garonba shook his head with apology as he walked back out of the room and closed the door. The bird shivered harder in Gihei's grasp, feeling the claws rake against his jacket.

"How long you been working in that parlour now?" the dragon grinned.

"Um...t-two, three years, Gihei-sama."

"You've been waiting for a chance to get out of that shithole I bet, hoping for some way to impress me enough that you can get back to being a proper little thug doing work for the Jinuchu."

"Yes...boss."

"Well."

He grabbed Gen by the beak and made him look up at his face.

"Guess what today is for you little shitbird."

"Wh-whah?"

"I got a mission for you. Something to show you're worth my time."

"Y-you...oh," his voice took a nasal drone from the pinch to his beak, "thenk, th-thenk yuu bawss, I-i won't fail yuu!"

"You won't." Gihei pushed him aside and walked round his desk. "There's a reporter who came from Tokyo, seems like he found a little bit too much about what we do and he's trying to follow up."

He pulled out a drawer then presented a photograph, showing a praying mantis in a long brown coat.

"Find him, then kill him."

"K-...kill?"

"Did I stutter?" Gihei tapped the photo. "I'm hearing too many questions about us on the street, so KILL him."

Gen's face rippled with fear tasting blood in his beak, a strong metallic ting that burned in the back of his mind as he struggled to breathe.

"But, b-boss, I-i'm not, I haven't...I-i'm not good enough for that, y-you got way better killers than me-"

"And they're off killing bigger targets, not this little pissant. Now are you gonna do what I say, or do I have to fucking break you again?"

"N-NO! ...no." Gen shook his head. "I'll...I'll do it, Gihei-sama."

"Good." Gihei sat down on his chair leaning back to tent his fingers. "You want out of that pachinko parlour, this is how you do it. But since I know you're such a screw-up, I'm giving you a partner to help you out with this."

"R-really?"

"He'll join you in the staff room, the guard'll take you there, you do not tell anyone what you're doing, not even your handler Garonba. But you have to kill this reporter, you and ONLY you, and if you don't...I will know."

The dragon licked his fangs with a crackling of sparks before he gestured Gen to leave. Stepping out of the office, Ganbe did all he could to not immediately break down with a shuddering clutch of his body.

"This way," the kappa guard motioned him to follow, "come on, time's wasting."

"You alright?" Meiji hugged his friend. "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"N-no," the avian shook his head, "it...it's fine."

"What did he want with you?"

"Just some...stuff," he sighed following the guard, "I got a mission I have to do but...it's private."

"Oh...shit." Garonba sucked in through his mandibles.

"I gotta meet someone for the mission, I'll uh...I dunno what you wanna do."

"I'll hang about, just...I dunno, I got nothing, I'm here for you Gen-chan."

"Th-thanks...Mei-chan."

They looked to each other for a moment as they walked further down, Garonba taking his friend's hand with a soft squeeze that helped calm his nerves. Outside one of the break rooms the kappa motioned Ganbe in, with Meiji heading off to busy himself elsewhere as the bird saw several grunts playing cards, dealing mahjong or watching the TV where a baseball game was currently on.

Gen sat himself at the TV, trying to lose himself in the scene of a diamond field where wolves charged across the bases every time a pillbug whacked a ball up in the air. Players with wings had binders to restrict them from instinctive flight, pounding across the pitch to grab the ball and send two wolves off to the bench, much to the roaring crowd's displeasure as the commentator explained what an unfortunately lucky grab it was.

The sound of clacking tiles filled the background along with the mutterings of displeasure from those watching the game, or someone ending with a ron on the tiles as Ganbe closed his eyes and let himself drift to his mental space. It was a rare moment of solitude that he savoured as he let the goons talk amongst themselves about pointless things. Then there was a lull, a sudden shifting in chairs as he felt the tension return, the folks on the couch suddenly taking their leave as all became silent.

"Ah, Wyverns playing?"

A scratchy voice with an odd accent sat beside him.

"Ushimura not here? No wonder Wyverns are losing."

Turning his head slightly, Gen saw a large spider in a beige coat with six sleeves covering his black and yellow limbs. Two of his arms were stocky with muscle and thick hands, the other four long and spindly like withered stalks with smaller hands resembling thin reedy branches of a dark lonesome tree. Six purple eyes stared towards the TV, with two smaller blue eyes peaking at the top of his forehead as he scratched his large bushy moustache with one of his arms.

"You like the Wyverns?" the spider's voice scraped Gen's ears.

"U-uh...yeah," he nodded, "I do, Maung-san."

"You have a favourite player?"

"Iiii...used to like Isonawa?"

"Mmmm, good good," the arachnid bristled his stache, "highest batting average, left six years ago."

"Yeah he retired...huh," Gen looked down to his feet, "that's kinda when I stopped watching them."

"I don't blame you, he was a legend. Ushimura's good though, the only reason the Wyverns win nowadays."

"Yeah he's pretty unstoppable, why's he not here?"

"Broke two legs," said Maung standing up, "would you like a drink?"

"Uh...s-s-sure?"

He was about to say what drink when the spider walked over to the vending machine and grabbed two cans. One was a lemonade that he took for himself, the other Ganbe's favourite brand of coffee.

"Hey, h-how did you-"

"I know you well, Ganbe-san." The spider sat back down beside him. "Gihei-sama has made me your aahpaw."

"Oh. That's...cool."

Gen struggled to keep his face neutral between wanting to smile politely, and wanting to cry with panic upon the face of Khoumad Maung. His eyes glimmered with a courteous grin bending his moustache, a large pair fangs poking out underneath adding a greater hint of danger that made Ganbe twitch as he drank his coffee. Maung was not a patriarch, nor a lieutenant, but he had a special position in the Jinuchu Clan that made everyone fear his presence. Every tile on the mahjong table was softly pressing down with a desperate clench for it not to clack.

"We talk later," said the arachnid, "but for now, we talk sports."

"S-sure, whatever you say sir," Gen nodded rapidly, "s-sooo is this your favourite team?"

"Hahah, in Japan yes. My home team still favourite."

"Oh, they...uh, Burma's got its own baseball team?"

"Yes," the spider grinned blinking half his eyes, "have not won Asian series in twelve years."

"Damn," Ganbe gulped, "well, I bet they'll win someday, yeah?"

"When they have fresh blood. Young...and fresh, not old and tired with same players every season."

"O-oh...they're one of those teams huh?"

"Not enough baseball players in Burma, everyone wants to play soccer."

"Did you...used to play or-"

"No."

They watched the game quietly, Maung occasionally making a passing comment about the state of play or criticising a bunt from a player who batted the ball low and just took the run as is. Eventually the game would finish forty minutes after, and so Khoumad took his leave with Ganbe following after. As they left the break room, they saw Meiji who suddenly balked at the tarantula's presence.

"A-AH, M-maung-san," he bowed profuse, "ha-ha-hoooow are you?"

"Good, Garonba-san," Khoumad bowed in turn, "Ganbe is with me today, he'll come back to you at night."

"Oh, c-cool! I'm just...gonna head to the library, yanno, look up stuff, if ya need me I'll be...there."

"Kay," Gen nodded, "see you when I get back, Mei-chan."

They bumped fists before they parted, the spider taking Ganbe out of the Jinuchu headquarters and heading further up the street to find the parking garage at the far-east side of Chinatown. Through a side door that Maung had the key for, he led the avian to a quiet dark storage room where none would hear their plan, and only further terrified Gen thinking that this would be where he died.

"Kama Kurasawa."

Khoumad brought out a different photo of the praying mantis.

"A reporter for a sports magazine in Kaijurocho."

"Wait, sports?" Ganbe scratched his head. "I thought he was a journalist."

"Yes, for sports."

"So, why's the boss worried about him?"

"He found something he was not meant to find," the spider waved his hand, "he does not know the truth yet, but he will soon, and he must be stopped."

"Can't we just like...toss him back on a train after we beat him up?"

"No, Gihei-sama's orders, he wants him dead."

From his coat Maung brought out a map of Issincho with various points marked across it.

"I have followed him the past two days. He is very good at hiding, does not even stay in one motel for more than a night."

"So why am I here?" Gen asked with a deep sigh. "I mean, you're a professional, wouldn't I just be in your way, Maung-san?"

"No," said the tarantula folding his map, "Gihei-sama's orders, you stay with me, you do what I say, until nightfall when you go back to Garonba."

"Sooo where do we start?"

"The park," he pointed north, "good open space, lots of faces to spot."

"Do we, walk through it or-"

"No." Khoumad put three hands on his arm. "I know clothes we can use. Tomorrow, we go, undercover."