A moonlit, desiccated thing is what Ken had become. A living corpse with pale, dry skin and sunken eyes. An endless itchiness covered his body, but he was in no condition to relieve it. After all, he was bound in the fetal position. Ken knew death was coming. The only question was how painful. The muffled moans of the person on his left lasted for days. Their daily doses of diluted venom were effective. He could feel his insides being eaten away. It was a slow process; that’s what he was told. His captor sat in the dark, observing him while swirling a glass of wine. Ken wondered was this how an ensnared fly felt. He wished he had never gone on that date.

Hiroshi Kimura was going on a date. He ignored the news story about the missing men and women. Normally, his favorite newscaster kept him glued to the screen, but she didn’t exist today. He hummed the theme of his favorite romantic drama as he got dressed. Suddenly, an upbeat chime came from his phone. It was time to go. He turned off the alarm and checked in the mirror. His enormous smile surprised as well as embarrassed him a bit. He shook his head and hoped the ten-minute train ride would calm him down before getting to the restaurant.

Red String was a popular restaurant located a block away from Tokyo Tower, above a gift shop. It catered to couples and offered an amazing view of the tower. The restaurant’s iconic lovers’ view was the pricey, reservations-only sweet spot on the balcony. Three tables bathed in moonlight sat at its center while playful topiary cupids danced and sang around them. Hiroshi gazed at it from his seat by the window and imagined sitting out there with someone special. He hummed again.

Suddenly, a familiar scent caught his attention. It was sweet, earthy, and homey but not comforting. A reminder of the rural community he left behind. The scent came from a young woman in a blue dress wearing a homemade golden leaf hair clip. Hiroshi turned away and looked outside again.

“Excuse me, Kimura-san,” said a refined, raspy voice. Hiroshi jumped back in his seat. A small smile appeared on the raspy-voiced woman’s face. Hiroshi stood up.

“Hara-san!” He looked up at her. “Let me get your chair.” Despite her size, Hara-san gracefully glided into the chair.
As Hiroshi sat down, she asked, “Have you been waiting long?” He looked at his watch, then shook his head.

“No, only a few minutes.” Hiroshi smiled. In truth, he got there twelve minutes early so he wouldn’t be late. Hara-san responded with a light nod.

“By the way, you can call me Yoshiko. I see you’re a fan of My Hiroshi.”

“I grew up on it, plus my mother was a fan. She had a crush on the fifteenth Hiroshi, played by Ken Kube.”

“It seems you’re the romantic type, like your namesake. Do you bring all your dates here?”
Hiroshi smiled nervously. “No. An… acquaintance worked here, so I thought I’d try it,” Hiroshi said as he looked over the menu.

“This is a pleasant step up from all the bars I’ve endured.” Yoshiko looked around as she spoke.

“I remember from our online chats that you had overtime, so I thought you might like a reward.” Yoshiko put her menu down. Her thin, tightly pressed lips tried to hold back a smile.

“A three-week deadline. Three weeks because the company president’s mistress didn’t like the old scent, the bottle design, or name. The poor thing couldn’t pronounce it. Plus, the bottle clashed with her social media brand. Fortunately, I like to experiment, and we used my personal project. They ended up calling it White Day Surprise or something. Has your job been stressful?” Before Hiroshi could answer, their server came and took their order.

After he left, Hiroshi replied, “No, but some of the newer hires forgot passwords and circulated certain pictures around the offices. I cleaned it all up, of course, and they got punished.”
Yoshiko tilted her head and said, “What a cute, righteous smile?!” Hiroshi covered his face with his napkin.

“It… It feels good. You know, doing the right thing.”

“I feel the same way. Certain people make this world ugly.” Hiroshi nodded.

“Look at that couple over there.” Hiroshi turned. “No. The man in the ugly blue shirt. He’s a cheater.”

“How do you know? Do you know him?” Hiroshi’s eyes widened.

“All women know his type. The charming liar, Mr. Empty Promises.”

“Trash.” Yoshiko grinned at Hiroshi’s response.

“He’s got some Olympic-level ring hiding.” Hiroshi focused on the man’s hand and watched him subtly keep his ring finger, which was distinctly discolored, out of his date’s sight.

“His napkin is getting a real workout. She could be his wife. Maybe he lost his ring and is afraid to tell her.”

“Sorry.” Yoshiko wagged her slender index finger. “I watched him pocket his wedding band when I came in. Plus, she doesn’t have one.” Hiroshi looked and gasped, then turned to Hara-san.

“You’re good.”

“I’ve watched people my whole life. Everyone hides something.”

“Secrets… I’m pretty sure he’ll regret fooling her.” Yoshiko tilted her head and stared at Hiroshi. “Y…You… You know, a woman scorned and all.” Hiroshi smiled nervously. Yoshiko kept staring. Unease welled up in him. Her gaze held more hunger than curiosity.

“Let’s go to my place. For dessert.” Yoshiko’s eyes widened.

“W-What?” Hiroshi said louder than intended.

“Raspberry matcha cheesecake. Your favorite. Correct?” Hiroshi nodded.

“Excellent!” Hiroshi felt like he had agreed to the wrong thing, but between the small smile she flashed and his love of cheesecake, he didn’t mind.

A sweet fruity scent rushed out of Hara-san’s apartment, causing Hiroshi to sneeze. He cursed his sense of smell. Hiroshi covered his nose with a handkerchief and followed Hara-san inside. It was surprising how thick the air was despite the apartment’s size. The corner apartment was a luxury one-bedroom. It had a modern design, but the cozy furnishings made it less intimidating. However, their secondhand nature was clear and showing. Yoshiko motioned for Hiroshi to sit on the couch.

“Sorry about the smell. I like to experiment,” Yoshiko said as she opened a window.

“It smells wonderful, but it hit me all at once.” Hiroshi pulled the handkerchief from his face. “I’m sensitive to smells. It… runs in the family.” Hara-san’s head drooped. “By sensitive, I mean acute. I smell mango, pineapple, toasted coconut, and a… summer breeze?” Hiroshi smiled as if trying to remember something. Yoshiko sat next to him.

“A summer romance. That’s what I was going for.” Yoshiko applauded. “I’m surprised you picked up on the acacia. I went very light on it.”

“Acacia?”

“The summer breeze scent is from pink acacia. Isn’t it lovely? It’s one of my favorites.” She placed her hand on top of his. “You’re quite impressive. You’ve earned your cheesecake and a special reward.” A groan emanated from Hiroshi. “Someone’s hungry. I’ll be right back.”

“May I use your bathroom?”

“It’s down the hall next to the tatami room. This apartment is a little unconventional.” Hiroshi excused himself as Yoshiko headed to the kitchen. As Hiroshi passed the tatami room, the intense smell of bleach overcame him. Yet, there was another scent underneath it. He inched closer to the opening, but the low groan started again.

“Settle down.” Hiroshi looked down, patted himself, and headed to the bathroom. A minute later, he emerged, and the tatami room caught his attention again. The unusual smell was an acidic mix of Parmesan and spoiled meat. He peeked into the living room, and Yoshiko wasn’t there. Hiroshi gently slid open the door, and a burst of cold air rushed out. Something hairlike brushed against his face. He wiped it off, but the feeling lingered. Damn cobweb, he thought. Hiroshi entered the room. Moonlight streamed in from the large back window. The pale light filled half the room, keeping the darkness at bay. In that light, something gleamed. He paused at the macabre artistry before him. Three mummified corpses hung from the ceiling. Each swathed in glittering golden silk with only their twisted, desiccated faces visible. A metal spigot stuck out of the center of each one. Across from the human casks was a small table with several wine bottles. As Hiroshi stepped back, a raspberry-scented hand covered his mouth as the lights came on. He spun around.

“I thought you were going to scream.” Yoshiko sighed and tapped her cheek with her index finger. “Everyone always screams.” Hiroshi spun around and backed away. Yoshiko was upside down, suspended from the ceiling by a single strand of golden silk. She motioned with her right index finger as if pulling on something. Hiroshi fell, and Yoshiko gracefully dropped to her feet with an elegant flip and twirl. In an instant, she jumped onto him. As she pinned him down, her face drew closer to Hiroshi’s neck, and she bared her fangs. Hiroshi wanted to fight back, but the oppressive feeling held him back. Suddenly, a pale hand shot out from within his pants. Its colorful nails clawed and pulled at Hiroshi’s shirt. “I’ve never seen one shaped like that.” Yoshiko grinned.

“I’m a tanuki,” Hiroshi blurted out. Yoshiko released him, and he pushed the hand back down.

“Story time!” Yoshiko picked Hiroshi up with one hand and carried him to the living room. She gently sat him down on the couch and cuddled up next to him. As her staring became unbearable, Hiroshi finally spoke.

“That woman was my last date. She’s a con artist.” Hiroshi looked down. “Honey traps are still a thing.”

“I see.” Yoshiko lightly nodded. “And then.”

“On our fourth date, we went to her place, and her boyfriend showed up.”

“He threatened you, right?”

“He punched me in the stomach a few times and pushed me against the wall.”

“I bet you had to compensate him. Was he like: You need to pay me for my stress and heartache! I bought this engagement ring for nuthin.” Yoshiko said in an exaggerated thuggish voice.

“No. The compensated dating blackmail scheme with an anonymous email to my job.”

“Ooh.” Yoshiko covered her mouth.

“The worst part was his breath. His funky, chocolaty, alcoholic breath.” Hiroshi and Yoshiko both made disgusted faces. “I bit him. I clamped down on his throat. It felt so good.”

“I bet it did.” Yoshiko said with glee.

“Of course, she started screaming. I knocked her out and put her in my magic scrotum. Well… between.”

“What about her?”

“I’ll either eat her or drive her mad. I guess.” Hiroshi sighed and looked out the window behind Yoshiko.

“People are so deceptive. They tarnish everything.” Yoshiko said.

“Hope, disappointment, punishment, cleanup, self-affirmation and repeat.” Hiroshi sighed again and looked at his crotch. “What about you?”

“The same, except I overwork myself afterwards. Keeping busy dulls the pain…a bit.” Yoshiko turned away from Hiroshi.

“Connecting with others is hard.” Hiroshi and Yoshiko said in unison. They looked at each other and laughed. After their laughter died down, Hiroshi turned to Yoshiko.

“Do you want her?” Hiroshi blurted out. Yoshiko stared blankly at first, but soon a wide smile formed.

“Would you like to enjoy some?” She said as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“A partner in crime.” Hiroshi said as he turned toward Yoshiko. The oppressive feeling vanished, and now he craved her attention.

A few hours later, in the tatami room, as twilight became dawn, a new golden cocoon writhed and wriggled. Its muffled and agonized moans provided pleasure for its listeners. Yoshiko and Hiroshi sat at the small table and sipped their wine as sunlight entered the room. Yoshiko glanced at him with her usual intensity, and Hiroshi held out his hand without looking. She smiled as the warmth of his hand enveloped hers.