Reincarnation Read online

have very much enjoyed talking to you Shock, but I find myself in the need of a bite, and I think I'm looking for something a bit more exotic than this cafe can provide. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave. Maybe I will see you again."

  He paused, this mysterious character from an Antiquity so old that it made me feel I were the young one. The whisper of his strange smile played across his lips, and he said with grave eyes, "You don't know, do you. Well then, one more warning. Stay away from your hotel. It will be your coffin."

  It felt as if the shadow of mortality had lifted off me, and I laughed a full throated laugh. I could simply not resist! If only he knew how accurate his prediction was! My hotel would indeed be my coffin! I had selected Shibuya because, aside from a victim rich environment of teenage females, at the top of the hill known as Dogenzaka, just up the road, was a "coffin hotel."

  With a bow, I swept down the stairs and into the night. Like all predators, I knew what I was looking for and I knew where to find it. I returned immediately to the 109 building. I could see my prey, no longer women, only succulent morsels on display, as if each laid out by a master chef for my dining pleasure. Adjusting my jacket and checking my hair, I prepared to find my target. That is when I saw her.

  Shock's first client stood not far from where I first saw her was. She was a vision of loveliness, a veritable damsel in distress, cheeks stained with kohl trails from her tears, trembling from the cold, with a cigarette clamped tightly between her fingers. The filter had flattened, lipstick stained it, giving the impression the cigarette had been badly beaten. For once, a Japanese was not smoking Hope. Perhaps she had none.

  As I approached, she looked at me, eyes large with fear, the dark tears still running silently down her face.

  Taking a chance that she spoke English, I asked her gently, "Are you ok?"

  She shook her head. Clearly struggling, her broken English came tumbling out in jagged pieces. "That boy. He say. tonight, I die."

  I could not resist the irony. It appeared that at least one of Shock's predictions would be coming true tonight after all.

  She took a convulsive puff on her cigarette, and as she did, I saw the raised scars along her the inside of her forearms. Reaching out I grasped her wrist, pulling the abused cigarette from her fingers. Making eye contact, I licked delicately at the lipstick bruise and inhaled.

  Exhalations, done properly can be quite sensual. Breathing the smoke out, I kissed gently at her scarred wrist, still trapped in my hand, without breaking eye contact. As my lips brushed her wrist, I saw her eyes dilate with desire. As easy as that, she was mine. Indeed, it was she who pulled me up the hill towards where many a well dressed girl had gone with an equal number of poorly dressed men.

  Two hundred yards up there was a gate very modern gate surmounted by what looked like Pacman, leading to Maruyama-Cho, or as it was described on the internet, "Love Hotel Hill." Through the gate we went and into a world of fun and games and furtive movements, darting though alleys to avoid other couples, until she led me to the shadowed door of what I surmised was one of the legendary love hotels. Once inside the girl slipped a small sum through a window and received a key.

  The room was quite different from what I expected. There were no bumper cars, no disco balls, it did not look like a subway car or anything of the sort. Instead it was simple, and well appointed, with a tastefulness that would appeal to a woman more than a man.

  As we entered, I laid my hand on the girl's should and drew her to me. Her last night on earth was filled with all the passion and pleasure you would expect the lust of a one hundred year old vampire can provide. When I finally laid her lifeless body on the bed, shortly before five am, sunrise was swiftly drawing near. Lighting one of her cigarettes, I took a drag and contemplated staying in the windowless room. In the end I could not resist the lure of my waiting coffin hotel, and the chance to make my odd new acquaintance correct twice in one night.

  I worked my way out of the labyrinthine backstreets, replete with garish pictures of nubile Japanese women, to the main street. While Providence was silent in the night, Tokyo's activity was merely dampened, the graying sky bleaching the gaudy neons into wan echoes of their midnight glory. Even so, the walk up the hill to CapsuleLand Shibuya, as the coffin hotel was named, was strangely silent.

  I paused at the top of the hill to orient myself by a miniature police station. Its interior was filled with a large 1950's style steel desk, overflowing ashtrays and old wanted posters featuring obscure middle aged criminals and disgruntled looking housewives A very tired young police officer sat behind the desk, smoking a cigarette. His eyes passed over me without pausing, dulled by exhaustion and boredom. Little did he know that in a few hours a body would be discovered on his beat. Perhaps the first of many. "Well," I thought to myself, "Tokyo has given me the excitement I need. Perhaps it's only right I give something back."

  A glance across the street showed me that I had arrived at my destination. CapsuleLand Shibuya was utterly non-descript. Were it not for the faded blue and yellow sign, I would have missed it entirely. If I understood correctly, it should be filled with businessmen looking for place to sleep off a hangover, or tourists looking for a cheap place to crash. I could not imagine a better refuge to sleep my days away while looking for more permanent residence.

  With a head full of wonder and a stomach full of blood, I was euphoric as I sauntered in and clapped the bell, shouting "I'd like a coffin, please!"

  The humor and verity of my statement most certainly escaped the old man behind the counter. He was bald as Buddha, the wrinkles on his face looked like they had been chiseled into wood, the mahogany tones of his skin adding to the impression. He looked dried out from a long hard life he more sinew and bone than flesh. His eyes were brown, with a blue ring around them, as if age had stolen the color from his eyes. Were I to bite him, I suspect I would only taste dust.

  Speaking slowly, and pointing upstairs, I repeated myself. "I would like a coffin, please." He looked at me, and shook his head, taking a long drag off of a short cigarette stamped with what I now, after nine hours in Tokyo, considered to be the ubiquitous Hope brand.

  "No Engrishu," he said ploddingly, then inhaled another cloud of smoke. The Hope flared brightly, and imparted his eyes an impish gleam, giving me the impression I was being mocked.

  I began again. Slower. And louder. "I would like a room for the day." The Buddha was unmoved. Blue smoke wrapped the hallowed gourd of his skull. Sucking his yellowed teeth in frustration, he pointed at sign, but the meaning of the eldritch figures eluded me.

  The sun was not up but it would be soon. I had had one dalliance for the evening, I had time for no more. Looking into his eyes, I exerted my will, and force my way into his mind. As I did, I saw an image of the a clock, before his resistance crumbled. Paying it no heed I forced an image him leading me into the hotel and of me lying down within one of the hotel's tiny chambers into the recesses of his mind.

  Without another word he stood and led me up into the dark reaches of the coffin hotel. As we walked, I noted the interior resembled nothing so much as a hive, crafted by giant insects in plastic and chrome as a bedchamber for their larval forms. Stacked four high, dim light showed through blinds of some of the cells, shadowing movement of some unnamable transformation within as the denizens awaited their rebirth into a horrific new form. The moment I thought of it, I was struck by the idea that was the day of my own transformation. When the sun set on the morrow, I would emerge reborn, free of the doldrums of a century.

  At last we reached an empty chamber and I sent the man on his doddering way. As I entombed myself, I felt the sun's burning grasp reaching for the horizon. Safe in the plastic catacombs of the hotel, I felt the sleep of death is drawing me down to darkness. Die when I am one hundred, shall I? I've died with the dawn every day for the last hundred years.

  ***

  Japan Times
Foreign Edition, Tokyo - The body of an unidentified foreign male was discovered this morning in Capsuleland Shibuya during mandatory 9:00 am check out. After several attempts to rouse the foreigner failed, the proprietor summoned the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, who determined he was dead. When the body was taken outside by the Coroner's Office it burst into flames. The police and coroners had to withdraw due to the heat of the flames, which was so intense the entire body was consumed. Eyewitnesses claim the body began to scream while it was burning, before crumbling to ash, and blowing away. Authorities are at a loss as to how to identify the deceased.

  ***

  Kurodera Shouki, dressed more casually in tight jeans, scuffed engineer boots and a faded black t-shirt, carefully placed a porcelain jar labeled "Dashiell" in Roman lettering into a sandalwood cabinet, to keep company with several other funerary urns. A reader of Japanese would note that in faded script the cabinet was labeled Essential Salts.

  "I told you we'd meet again." he said, closing the cabinet doors.

  ###

  Thanks for reading Reincarnation. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review at your favaorite retailer, and keep an eye out for more tales from Tokyo.

  Best,

  D

  About the Author:

  Daniel