Slave Hunters at Peter Pan Airport
It had been ages since I'd last been to Peter Pan-7 Airport, so I wandered around in a daze, trailing after Yukiko and the civil servant. Once all the procedures were finished, the three of us sat side by side on an airport bench to catch our breath.
"Actually, I should be the one assisting with a trip like this, but due to personal circumstances... I'm sorry."
"It's fine. You and Yukiko would have gone anyway. What I'm worried about is Mikoto heading back alone."
Mikoto had come here by herself yesterday and flown back to Japan alone. Returning home as a slave—would she face contempt, envy, or both? Voice acting wasn't a bad profession in Japan by any means. She'd already been popular before the war, so unless something truly dire had happened, there was no reason for her to abandon it.
A noisy commotion echoed from afar. Dozens of women had gathered, chattering loudly. That alone wasn't unusual, but the tension in their voices and their heavy armament drew the eye—rifles, pistols, even sniper scopes.
Gun regulations had loosened considerably or become outright nominal after the war, but actual armed groups showing up like this were still rare.
"Ugh, my bad feelings always come true..."
The civil servant glared at them, trembling.
"What's wrong? Who are they?"
"Promise you won't get mad... and I'll tell you."
"Who are they that you'd say that?"
Gun laws had slackened partly because weapons had flooded society indiscriminately during the war, but also because the military was strong enough to suppress most firearm issues. In the old days, even a single gunman with a pistol would have shut down the airport as a terrorist threat. But considering the sheer number of troops guarding the place now, that was laughable. It wouldn't sway them from a hostage situation either. Knowing that people accepted military control as natural because death had become so routine didn't exactly ease the mind, but there was no reason to get angry at these armed folks right now.
"Those women are all slaves. Their owner's probably about to show up."
"Traveling? Are they that heavily armed because of security concerns? Isn't that overkill?"
"Well... it's a bit different. They're not arming up to defend against crime—they're going out to hunt it."
"Why?"
I genuinely couldn't comprehend. What kind of person buys up combat slaves like that just to send armed groups to Japan? It couldn't be for profit. Honestly, they probably couldn't even cover flight costs most of the time. Carrying guns around Korea didn't magically create profits or clients, and Japan was no different.
"It's a man's sexual desire. One that's popular in theory, but full of barriers in practice."
"But there are tons of slaves, right? Just buy them."
Even those with tastes hard to share with others could force them on slaves without issue.
"No matter what slaves they bought, they didn't satisfy that itch..."
"Even if that's the case—"
"Slaves have already consented to sex with men."
I slowly replayed her words in my mind. A common male desire, but one tough to fulfill in reality. Something slaves couldn't provide, because they'd all consented to sex. If I hadn't promised the civil servant I wouldn't get mad, I'd have bolted out there right then. People like that existed in this insane society. People whose desires even this world couldn't sate.
"So they take those weapons to hunt?"
"Yes. They hunt violent gangs or resistance fighters in Japan, then... bring back the spoils. Even if they grab a civilian by mistake, the police rarely punish them..."
I scanned for the guy, curious what kind of creep he was, but he hadn't joined them yet.
Track suits, ragged military castoffs turned into skimpy outfits, extreme low-cuts with plunging necklines—but still suits. Nothing special about their clothes, yet suddenly they felt alien. Or maybe the whole space did. Actually, I felt alien.
The ceiling seemed to loom higher. The world's colors felt a shade off.
"This is why I didn't want to come out..."
Unable to trust my neck to hold my head up, I dropped it, propping myself on my arms. I didn't want to open my eyes, but closing them felt wrong too, so I covered my face with my palms. My head's weight traveled through my hands, down my arms to my elbows, jabbing my knees.
"Shall we head back?"
"No."
Me leaving wouldn't send them home. I'd just hole up alone, pretending people like that didn't exist. And flying off to Japan wouldn't change much either. I could handle Mikoto crossing lines faster, but there was no need to force myself to stay. Truth be told, whether she used my status for justice or framed innocents didn't matter. I didn't need to dwell on her past—just enjoy her cuteness when she got back.
"We have to go."
Who knew when I'd get another chance to understand Mikoto, to believe in her unwaveringly. Time was almost up. I grabbed all the luggage and stood.
"Let's go."
/////
Hotels weren't new to me, but bringing a woman was. I never imagined sliding shower curtains that whisked aside at a button's touch, or the slightly rough texture of the bathrobe.
"Aren't you tired from the trip, Master?"
Her outfit wasn't revealing, but imagining one layer away from exposing her body turned the modest robe—legs covered, figure concealed—into something erotic.
"Mentally, yeah, a bit. But thanks to you, Yukiko, I'm okay."
I'd encountered so many people, most gnawing at my sanity like creatures from a horror flick. A woman who'd bumped shoulders rushing somewhere dropped to her knees, begging for her life. I reassured her repeatedly it was fine, but she was convinced she'd die—better to kill only her painlessly, sparing her family.
Before the hotel, on the street, a snake-like woman in a passing car spotted me as male and asked if I was "the reserved guest." Yukiko, who'd called the cab, confirmed, and I'd unwittingly entered and exited an incredibly dangerous brothel. Clean, modern, futuristic even. Better design than Korea's slave markets, but the contents were horrific. Women with forcibly enlarged breasts leaking milk, or vaginas sewn shut—sighs escaped me. Seeing amputated limbs hurt the heart. Worst was dozens of zombie-like women lunging at me, pushed to their limits by overdose drugs and deliberate neglect. They didn't look human anymore, sadly. Desperate for a man's mercy, for pleasure. I'd learned later, ironically, most were virgins.
"Honestly, I'm still regretting it a little, but... this was daily life for you and Mikoto, right? Living in this world... If I want to understand, I at least have to see it with my own eyes."
"Still, today's events were excessive. I come from a decent family myself, albeit modest, so I'm ignorant of red-light districts. The truly dangerous spots must be even worse."
"...Sorry."
"I am foolish and do not understand what you mean."
"I've thought this since Mikoto's time, but you never relax and enjoy things, Yukiko. I wanted to find some hobby or memory—anything you truly want."
Gaming or watching anime with Mikoto was fun. But Yukiko was always working in the background.
"I don't know what women like, but I wanted to make you happy as much as possible... Sorry I'm like this on day one."
"Your consideration alone is more than I deserve. Without meeting you, Mikoto or I would be no better than those prostitutes we saw today."
I questioned myself. For Yukiko, for Mikoto, I felt I could do anything. But the gap between those prostitutes and my slaves felt infinitesimally small. If one had scraped together the money to enter the slave market, could she have been in Yukiko or Mikoto's place? Lost in that unanswerable question, Yukiko gently placed her hand on my leg, snapping me out of it. I had no desire for that today, but I didn't want to push her touch away either.