The Lycanthrope Club - An American Werewolf in Japan, Chapter VII

Junko tore the plastic wrap off yet another polystyrene tray and swallowed its contents, not even pausing to read the label; it was meat, and that was what mattered. Given a choice Junko would usually pick sweet over savory but now she'd trade a thousand parfaits for a roasted chicken. Licking her lips, she reached over to grab another package from the backpack. As she pulled it out she noticed it was her last tray. Shrugging, she ripped the wrapping off and gobbled the glistening cuts of pink flesh. It wasn't exactly fresh. Though she'd purchased the meat the same day it had spent the last six hours crammed in her backpack, unrefrigerated. But she was ravenous, perhaps more so than she had ever been in her life, and the gradual feeling of fullness as she stuffed more and more food into her stomach was downright euphoric. 

She placed a paw over her mouth, stifling a belch, and looked over at Masae who, like her, was sitting on one of the benches in the rest area wolfing down the provisions she'd brought along. It was nearly pitch black yet she could still see well enough in the gloom. 

"Um...Masae-sempai?" she said.

Masae glanced up at her. A small slice of meat was dangling from her mouth.

"...Yeah?" replied the senior student after sucking the wayward morsel down her throat. 

"...I'm sorry, but I'm out of food. Can I have some of yours?"

"You're out?" exclaimed Masae.

Masae nodded timidly. 

"We divided the food equally!" snorted Masae. "How can you be finished before we are?"

Taro looked up. Unlike Junko and Masae he had taken a seat on the ground and eating his food with chopsticks. He'd even placed one of his shirts on the ground and was using it as a makeshift tablecloth. 

"I'm...still kinda hungry," said Junko, pouting. 

"We're all hungry," said Masae. "And we're the one who did all the fighting."

"Hey, I took a couple of them down," said Junko, a touch proudly.

Suddenly, Taro took two small polystyrene trays of what looked like mackerel and lifted them in the air in Junko's direction. 

"Here, you can have this," he said.

Junko leapt from the bench and happily accepted the proffered fish.

"Thank you so much!" she said, bowing before returning to her bench. 

"I guess some things don't change," sighed Masae as Junko devoured the food. "Human or werewolf, you're always hungry." She picked up a handful of shrimp and stuffed them in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. "But I guess you're off sweets now. Unless you can convince the shops to make you a meat sundae," she laughed. 

It was a pretty lame joke but Junko grinned nonetheless. She wiped her mouth and leaned back against the bench with a gratified sigh. "I can't believe we just did that," she blurted. "We...we just beat up a whole gang of Yakuza!" she exclaimed, grinning madly. "They...they had guns. They shot us. A lot! And we're fine. We wiped the floor with them." She paused. "I...hope we didn't actually kill anybody," she added, her enthusiasm waning somewhat as she considered this possibility.

"They attacked us first," said Masae coldly. "And we warned them. If one of them didn't make it they have no-one to blame but themselves."

"Uh, I...suppose," said Junko apprehensively.

"Do not worry," said Taro. "There aren't any bodies around here. I was careful not to strike any of them in the head and despite her...enthusiasm, Takahashi-sempai didn't fatally injure anyone either. I'm sure many of them have broken bones, but they'll live." He paused. "I fear we will need to purchase some new bokken, however. Mine has cracks."

"Mine too," said Masae absently. 

"You two were incredible," gushed Junko. "I mean, I was scared at first, but the way you just...I mean..." she mimed swinging a sword, chuckling "It was straight out of a movie or anime! I wish I could have gotten that on my phone!"

"Phones!" said Masae sharply, rising from the bench.

"Eh, what...?"

 

"Where are our phones? Are they still here?" 

"Oh, oh yeah," said Junko, blinking. She looked around. "I was so hungry and...uh, I think it was still in my pocket, so..." she murmured, still scanning the rest area.

Masae turned and started digging through a loose pile of clothes on the ground that, presumably, were hers. Taro rose from the ground and, after brushing some leaves from his fur, walked over to the bench next to Masae and started rummaging through one of the backpacks sitting there. 

"Found it!" called Masae, holding up a comparatively tiny cell phone in her massive paw. 

"Mine as well," said Taro.

"Uh...uhh..." Junko said as she searched the area. Her phone was probably still in her pants and she had stripped down to her undergarments when the transformation began. Yet she didn't see any sign of her clothing; not even a sock. "Er...Masae-sempai, could you call my phone?" she asked, somewhat embarrassed.

Masae gave her a look.

"Come on, I'm having trouble finding it," whined Junko. "It's easier. And...what if one of the gangsters grabbed it?"

Masae's scowl softened slightly as she considered Junko's last point "Okay," she said. She glanced down at her phone and slowly poked it once, then twice with her oversized digits. Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed. She gingerly tapped it with her pinky a couple times. Then, she shook her head and growled with frustration. "I can't get it to work," she said. "These stupid fingers are too big."

"I'll try," intoned Taro. He lifted his phone and swiped the screen. He tapped it a couple of times. Suddenly, Junko heard a familiar pop song playing. It was coming from beneath the bench behind her.

"There it is!" she said happily. She turned and bent down. "I must have tossed my clothes under here when I was, er, changing," she said as she picked up her shirt and pants.

Masae harrumphed and tossed her phone on her discarded clothes. 

"Got it!" exclaimed Junko after digging though her pockets. She held up her pink phone. Taro nodded and tapped his phone's screen. Junko's phone went silent but continued to blink. Junko swiped her screen and scanned it. Her eyes widened.

"I have some new texts," she said, holding up her phone. "I think they're from that werewolf."

There was silence. 

"...Let me guess," said Masae after a while. "It can't make it."

"Um...well..." said Junko uneasily, still reading the texts. "'I am being followed. I cannot meet you. They may be in the area. Watch out.'"

"When was that text sent?" asked Masae. "It would have been nice to have known that thirty minutes ago!"

"'I do not know how they found me,'" continued Junko."'They may be reading our texts so this...'" Junko gasped and looked up "'...this will be the last time I contact you with this phone.'"

"What?" exclaimed Masae. 

"'I need to go into hiding. I have left you a message at your train station only you can find. The...password is the last words you heard me say. Good luck.'" Junko looked up. "That's it," she said quietly.

The three high schoolers stared at one another. 

"A message only we can find..." repeated Junko thoughtfully. 

"This is... I don't believe it!" snarled Masae suddenly, stomping the ground. Junko stared at her and gulped. "We came all this way and...it doesn't...AAAARRRRRRRR!"

"Masae-sempai," said Taro firmly.

"STUPID, STUPID!"

"Masae-sempai!" barked Taro.

"WHAT?"

"Remember what happens when we let our emotions take control," said Taro slowly. "This is bad, but it cannot be helped. We survived the transformation. We survived the Yakuza. We will find a way."

Masae just stood there for a time, chest rising as falling, nostrils flaring as she breathed in and out. Her paws curled into fists and uncurled. Then, her shoulders slumped. Saying nothing she turned and sat down on the bench, her expression unreadable.

A few, uncomfortable seconds ticked by. Then, Junko cleared her throat.

"Err, what do we do now?" she asked. "Should we...check the train station?"

"It may be prudent," said Taro, albeit uneasily.

"I wonder what it meant by a message only we can find," mused Junko. "And password? Do we...is there some kind of computer we need to access there?"

"We should go first thing in the morning," said Taro. "The sooner we-"

"No," said Masae suddenly. 

Both Junko and Taro looked at her in mild surprise.

"We have to assume they have been reading the texts," she continued, the anger and frustration from before gone in her voice. "Even if they haven't they will likely watch the train station and buses for her. Or us. The werewolf is going into hiding and we should do the same. We need to act like nothing happened and continue with our lives." She paused and looked up. "At least, for the time being. We should wait until summer vacation starts before we search the train station."

"But that's two weeks away," said Junko.

"That should be long enough for the heat to die down," said Masae. "And don't forget, we have our exams coming up."

"...That is true," said Taro. "Apologies, Takahashi-sempai, I had not considered that."

Junko frowned.  It felt wrong to go back to being a regular high school student after everything that happened. And she wasn't even sure they could pretend like nothing had changed.

"But...I mean, there won't be another full moon for a month, but can we control ourselves now?" she said, voicing this concern. "What if..." She blushed "What if what happened in the alleyway happens in school? Or in front of our parents or-...you know..." she hesitated as something occurred to her. She slowly looked over at Taro. "Taro...-kun," she said, realizing how silly it was to address him as kun now. "You've remained...very composed through all this. How do you do it?" she asked.

"Composed?" said Taro.

"Even before the transformation you didn't lose your temper like me and Masae-sempai," Junko smiled weakly and nodded apologetically at Masae before continuing. "How did you do it?"

"I..." Taro appeared somewhat uncomfortable or mildly confused. "I did feel very...angry at times. But I found meditation helped cool my evil temper."

"Meditation?" said Junko.

"Yes."

"I guess that makes sense," muttered Masae. "These urges are just powerful emotions. We just need to learn to keep them in check."

Junko opened her mouth to make an observation relating to Masae and self-control but wisely shut it.

"On a related topic," continued Masae. She attempted to fold her arms but a newly enraged portion of her anatomy precluded it. She growled and lowered her arms. "Remember when we met that werewolf? It was daytime. And it wasn't a full moon."

"...Wait, werewolves are only supposed to change under a full moon," said Junko, grasping the inconsistency immediately. "So does that mean they can change whenever they like?"

"I'm not sure," said Masae, her ears flickering. "I suspect...a full moon forces us to change but otherwise we can change when we want. Or can learn how to."

"You think so?" inquired Junko, suddenly excited. 

"I think we should each find someplace quiet, private and safe and try to change," said Masae. "If it's something we can learn to do on our own, we should learn it."

"Why is that?" asked Taro.

"Because we have yakuza gunning for us," said Masae sharply. "It might be useful."

Taro nodded.

"It seems wise," he said.

"We can practice at that old temple," said Junko. "You know, the one near the school. No-one ever goes in there."

"Yes, but only at night," said Masae firmly. And no more talking about werewolves on our phones. We have to assume they're listening." She paused. "Actually, we should work out a code. If we need to meet to discuss something involving..." she gestured vaguely around them. "...This - being a werewolf, we should say we're going to meet for...for..."

"Banana parfait," exclaimed Junko.

Masae stared at her and then rolled her eyes.

"Fine, banana parfait. Anything else?"

Junko cocked her head from side to side, thinking, and then shook it. Taro said nothing.

"Well...good," said Masae awkwardly. "She shifted her weight slightly and then reached into her bag for another tray of fish. She dug a talon into the plastic wrapping to rip it open and started chewing on a small cut of fish. 

Junko chuckled.

"What now?" groaned Masae.

"Sorry, Masae-sempai, it's just...well..."

"Spit it out, already."

"It kind of felt like we were having a school club meeting - a werewolf club."

"A werewolf club? Don't be ridiculous."

* * *

Hajime lips tightened as the elderly doctor sank the needle into his arm. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. He'd been punched, cut, stabbed, thrown out a car, even shot - albeit with a low-caliber pistol in the shoulder - yet being stuck with a needle always made him wince. Perhaps it was the way he could feel the thin metal cylinder slide beneath his flesh and expel its contents - like he was allowing some alien creature to inject him with its venom or larvae. He gritted his teeth and shot the doctor an angry look. The wrinkled old man didn't seem to notice. At last, the doctor slowly - far too slowly for Hajime's liking - drew the needle out, leaving a tingling numbness. Saying nothing the doctor turned and exited. 

Hajime relaxed slightly and leaned back on the examination table, which had been tilted to allow him to sit. He surveyed the room. It was a small, slightly decrepit affair. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling were flickering unsteadily. Most of the equipment and supplies were out of date; one of the anatomical posters looked like it pre-dated the world war. At least it looked clean. 

The door opened. It wasn't the doctor.

"Boss," exclaimed Hajime, sitting up.

The short, obsidian-eyed man walked inside. Hajime caught a glimpse of a heavy-set man standing by the door before it shut.

The short man stared at Hajime for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. The room was utterly silent save the unsteady buzz of the fluorescent lights. 

"So, Hajime," said the man in a soft voice. "Do you believe in ghosts now?"

Hajime blinked in confusion. Then, he recalled his boss's parting words.

"I-..." began Hajime.

The short man raised his hand. Hajime went silent. The short man slowly walked over to a plastic chair and lowered himself onto it.

"How is Dr. Tsuru treating you?" he inquired.

Hajime hesitated. 

"Well enough, I suppose," said Hajime. "His bedside manner could use some work."

"Dr. Tsuru is an old friend," said the short man. "Known him for over a decade."

Hajime gulped. "Oh, er..." he said, not sure what to say in response, if anything.

"He was on holiday at Kalibo," said the short man. "One of my former colleagues had been injured after a...misunderstanding with a customs agent. He - that is, my former colleague - staggered into the lobby of the hotel Tsuru was staying, bleeding, and asked for a doctor. We paid the good doctor for his services and his silence. And he stayed silent even after the police broke his jaw." He laughed hoarsely. "I sometimes joke that I only came to this country to pay my respects." He nodded at Hajime. "Did he anesthetize you already?"

"Yes," said Hajime.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to be in any pain when he sets that arm of yours. Is it finished?"

"Uh..." Hajime glanced down at his broken arm. "I think so."

The short man rose from the chair and approached Hajime.

"Let's see," he said.

A stiletto-like knife appeared in his hand seemingly by magic. Before Hajime could react the short man thrust it into his forearm. To Hajime's credit, he did not scream or shout. He did, however, gasp and shudder.

"Feel anything?" inquired the short man, his tone unchanged.

He did, in fact. Not so much pain, for the anesthetic had done its job, but he did feel a tight pinch for lack of a better description.

"N-No," lied Hajime, not daring to look down.

"That's good," said the short man. He pulled the knife out, turned and walked a cabinet. Hajime immediately clutched his right arm. The wound was small but deep; he was already bleeding quite profusely. He still didn't feel any pain but it wasn't exactly reassuring. 

The short man returned carrying a small roll of bandages and a small plastic bottle.

"No need to bother Dr. Tsuru with such a trifling wound," he said, unrolling the bandages. He gave Hajime an inquiring look. Understanding, Hajime lifted his hand. There was quite a bit of blood. The short man wet a section of bandages with what Hajime assumed was alcohol, wiped the blood away and started wrapping the bandage around his injury. 

"None of your men were killed?" asked the short man as he worked.

"Wha-...No. Er, Touma won't be able to walk for half a year but he got the worse of it."

"Hm. And how...forgive me, but who, exactly, were you fighting again? Did the American have help?"

Hajime bit his lower lip.

"I don't know," he said. "There was more than one of them. I don't think she was among them."

"How do you know?" said the short man. He stopped dressing Hajime's wound.

"I didn't see her," said Hajime uncomfortably.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. Then, the short man continued wrapping the bandage around Hajime's arm. 

"I will ask you again. Who attacked you? I heard your men were talking about monsters or kami."

"I..." Hajime swallowed. "You asked whether I believe in ghosts now. Well, I do."

The short man took out his knife. Hajime's eyes widened. 

"Why do you say that?" said the short man as he cut the bandage strip and started tying it around Hajime's wrist.

Hajime's relief was short lived. He braced himself for his boss's reaction and spoke. "They were giant wolves, boss. Giant wolves that walked on two legs and could speak! They wielded wooden swords but when they hit...I swear they were deadlier than real ones!"

"Yet none of your men are dead," observed the short man. He finished tying the bandage.

"Only because they were holding back!" said Hajime, almost hysterically. "I heard one of them command its fellow not to use its fangs. And...guns didn't work on them. We must have shot them a dozen times. I saw the big one get hit in the chest point blank but it didn't even slow it down! Bullets just seemed to make them angry." He paused. "They claimed to be guardian kami," he said in a quieter voice. "They said we were defiling the forest with our presence."

The short man chuckled.

"I know it sounds insane," said Hajime. "Do you think I want to tell you this? Would I concoct such a ridiculous lie?"

"Would you?" said the short man.

"No! Never," said Hajime urgently.

The short man was silent for a while. Hajime glanced down at his arm. He could feel the slight pressure from the bandage but little else. The short man turned and started walking along the office.

"Did you know one of your men said he was going to leave the organization to become a monk to atone for upsetting the kami?" said the short man conversationally.

"Who?" asked Hajime.

"I didn't catch his name and it isn't important," said the short man, waving a hand dismissively. 

"I...let me speak with him," said Hajime. "Please," he added.

"The matter has already been resolved," said the short man, examining the outdated anatomical poster. "Do not concern yourself with it." He paused. "There were only three of them?"

"Yes."

"And they spoke fluent Japanese? No accent?"

"Accent?" said Hajime, nonplussed.

"Well?"

"Not as far as I could tell, no. But I only heard two of them speak. The third one - the smaller one - didn't say a word." He hesitated, recalling the encounter. "And it was the only one that didn't fight with a wooden sword."

"That is...noteworthy," said the short man thoughtfully. Suddenly he whirled around and stared directly at Hajime. "Did I not warn you not to underestimate this woman?" he said, his voice filled with menace. "Did I not tell you not to give her a chance to fight back?"

Hajime's lips tightened. He lowered his head.

"This complicates things," growled the short man, turning away from Hajime. "One American spy here illegally with no sanctioned support from the government is one thing," he muttered. "But now it seems she has support." He shook his head. "Lick your wounds and continue the search for the American," he ordered, not bothering to look back. "Do not meet with me again unless it is present me with the American. I still want her alive." 

"Yes, of course," said Hajime, nodding frantically.

"I'm going to visit some friends in Tokyo. They may be able to shed some light on these developments."

"Of course, boss."

The short man stood there for a few seconds.

"She's one of them, you know."

Hajime blinked.

"Boss?"

"The American is one of those wolf monsters," clarified the short man slowly. "They are real, Hajime-san. Not many know this. And those that hear of it do not often believe it even when it is whispered by very powerful or very knowledgeable sources. I wasn't certain myself. But given what has happened...well, it seems the world is a much more interesting place than I suspected."

Hajime stared at him.

"They are immortal," continued the short man. "Or very hard to kill. Supposedly they have weaknesses. Some say garlic or foxglove. Others say they can only be killed by stabbing them with a wooden spear or steak. One man told me that only blessed or sanctified weapons can hurt them. One source - a fairly reliable one - informed me that silver is an anathema to them. I don't know what is true. It all sounds like some infantile fairy tale."

The short man stepped towards the door and opened it.

"Be sure to let me know what worked and what didn't if we meet again, Hajime-san," he said, pausing. "I'll let Dr. Tsuru know he can start the procedure."

The short men exited the examination room and shut the door behind him, leaving Hajime alone to contemplate what he had learned. 

* * *

Junko blinked and sniffed the air. She stared up at her bedroom ceiling and then over at her clock. It was morning; the alarm would be going off in three minutes. Junko sighed, yawned and slid out of bed. She limped out her door, into the short hallway connecting her bedroom to the bathroom. She took her toothbrush off its charger and squirted a dollop of thick blue paste on its bristles. Junko winced slightly as she smelled the toothpaste but continued her morning routine. 

Halfway through brushing her teeth Junko remembered something. She glanced back at the bathroom door. It was closed. Toothbrush still humming away in her mouth, she reached down and lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach. 

This time the change was significant enough to make her gasp. While she'd never been particularly chubby or soft there didn't appear to be an inch of fat on her belly now. Her abdominal muscles were clearly visible and much, much larger. Her stomach looked like that of a gymnast or female wrestler. She lowered her toothbrush. 

"How much...bigger am I going to get?" breathed Junko in astonishment. She ran a hand along her abdomen. It was smooth yet incredibly firm. She giggled. "Wow!"

Suddenly, a loud beeping sound emanated from the hall.

"Ah! The alarm!" yelped Junko, rushing out of the bathroom.

Ten minutes later Junko was dressed and eating breakfast at the table. Her mother had already left for work, leaving her an encouraging note wishing her good luck on her exams. Junko felt a little depressed as she read it; she had been having trouble focusing on her schoolwork lately. Though given what had happened to her, well, it wasn't surprising. 

A thought occurred to her. She looked around the apartment. Her mother's train pass, keys and purse were absent. The windows were shut and she had a good fifteen minutes before she'd risk being late. 

Junko put down her half-eaten orange. She took one more look around.

"Mom?" she called, just to be on the safe side. 

She waited. There was no response. She sniffed the air. Though her mother's scent was ubiquitous in the apartment it wasn't quite as strong as it was when she was present.

Junko stood, shut her eyes and took a deep, long breath. She raised both her hands and touched the sides of her head.

"Henshin," she whispered to herself, visualizing the change.

A few seconds later she felt a now familiar pressure on her ears. Her entire body felt warm but she focused on her ears. The pressure grew more intense, almost painful. Then there was a loud pop. She felt something brush up against her hands. Junko gently touched and then rubbed the protuberances, shivering at the tickling sensation as her fingers ran along her now velvety ears. Everything was much louder now - she could hear the subdued whirr of the refrigerator, the soft buzz of various electrical devices and the muffled voices and movement of her neighbors. Junko took her phone out and looked at herself on the screen. 

"So kawaii!" she exclaimed gleefully, admiring the wolf ears adorning her otherwise human head.

Her body was getting hotter and hotter. If she didn't revert soon she'd need to buy a new school uniform. She glanced down at the camera button. It was tempting. Very tempting. 

"Hmmmmmmm...better not," she said. "Good-bye, ears."

Her ears shrank down and turned pink. 

"It'd make such a good selfie," she sighed before heading out.

It was already starting to feel like summer outside. The heat and humidity was rising and iced treats were appearing in everyone's hands. Junko walked along the sidewalk, beaming. She sniffed the air, savoring the many sweet aromas wafting in the breeze - flowers, fruits, pollen, tea, cooked food, and more. There were a lot of unpleasant smells too, but she was becoming remarkably adept at mentally filtering them out. She stopped at a crowded crosswalk and waited for the light to turn. She surreptitiously took a whiff. She could smell what everyone around her had had for breakfast, what perfume or shampoo they were using, whether they had used the bathroom recently. She smiled and covered her mouth, stifling a mischievous giggle. The light on the opposite street flashed 'walk' and she continued along.

She got to school with ten minutes to spare. Once inside she scanned the halls for Masae or Taro. Though she couldn't see them she could smell their distinct, sour musk. She carefully maneuvered between the press of bodies, searching, and finally spotted Taro, who speaking with one of his fellow students. He noticed Junko, nodded in farewell at the student and approached her.

"Good morning, Hayashi-san," he said. 

"Hiya!" she smiled. "Well, this is it. Good luck with your exams."

"You too," he said. "You just missed Takahashi-sempai."

"Aw, I wanted to wish her good luck too."

"That's very considerate, but I doubt she'll need it," he said.

"Uh...I hope so," said Junko. "It's just, well, I haven't seen her much over the last week."

"She's been busy preparing for the exams," said Taro. 

"I mean, she hasn't come to the temple," said Junko in a quieter voice.

"Oh."

"I mean, we don't have to all go at the same time," said Junko. "But I wonder how she's doing."

"I've...met with her a few times," said Taro. "She looked fine, though..." the co-ed looked uncomfortable.

"Taro-kun..." said Junko in a chiding tone.

"Nothing," said Taro. "It's just...maybe she isn't getting enough sleep."

"Was she irritable?" 

"No! Not at all," said Taro, waving his hands. "Perhaps a bit tired."

"Tired," mused Junko. "Hm. We should probably talk after school. We need to figure out when we're going to go to the train station."

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about that out in the open," said Taro nervously.

"Nobody here would care, Taro-kun," said Junko. 

"I...yes, of course," said Taro.

Junko gave him a look. He did look thinner and there was a bit more color in his cheeks. But beyond that he looked just the same - same careful posture, same attentive yet apologetic disposition, unremarkable and polite. 

"Taro-kun, before we go I..." she hesitated. "Have you noticed any changes to your body? I mean, besides what happened that night."

"Changes? To my body?"

"Never mind," she said quickly, blushing slightly. "We can talk about it after school."

"Alright," he said. "And to be honest, I don't remember much of what happened that night."

"Huh?" said Junko. "What do you mean?"

"That was Taichi-sama," said Taro. "See after the exams," he said, turning and disappearing into the crowd of students.

"Whaaaa-?" Junko, utterly confused.