Ichiko Ohya vs. The World

I scrunched my jacket a little tighter over my body as the cold night air brushed its pervy fingertips over my uncovered areolas. It was the time of night that, a few months ago, I'd be on my seventh drink of the night ready to sing karaoke with Lala-chan until I passed out.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the ‘Cult of Benzaiten’ meets at Warehouse 34.

And this reporter is going to be right there investigating.

This reporter...

This 'reporter' that works for a clickbait website… is going to be trying to find out the dark truth of the world… all by herself...

Forget if this is safe or not, will my editor even wanna publish this story? It probably counts as ‘light entertainment’… right? If you squint?

Ah fuck it, I know a juicy story when I smell one. Carol is just gonna have to deal with all the bombshells I’m dropping tonight. Haven’t had the investigative itch like this since Ren stepped into my bar.

Even the Phantom Thieves are beginning to sound like old news after all this Benzaiten talk lately. Can’t exactly escape a rumour that a God might be real enough to answer the people’s prayers, and it’s hard to stay agnostic when cancer patients really were walking again. Terminal cases, vanishing from hospitals like bad headlines swept under the rug. That kind of miracle sells papers.

And cults? Cults always got people interested.

Can’t take it lightly though, not going in as Ohya tonight. It’s going to be a rough disguise, but I’m genderswapping myself to hide in the crowd. I can struggle through an evening of itchy covered nips so they’ll never think a lady reporter infiltrated their ranks. Flat cap down over head, fake booze in hand, and a fresh man nipple-hole-less jumper, I was ready to infiltrate as a seasoned (if dainty looking) geezer.

It had taken three trains and a bus to get this out of town, but finally my journey to Warehouse 34 was reaching it's end. I approached the location, noting there was not a lot to go on from the outside. Just a typical warehouse district in the middle of nowhere, with rows of closed shutters and resting loading equipment. Though, even with the seemingly standard scene, the buildings did seem to grow ever more dilapidated the higher in warehouse number.

I tugged my scarf higher around my chin as I approached the half-abandoned lot. Warehouse 34 sat hunched like an old drunk, with rust streaking down its walls, and an unshakable smell of mould that still haunted the place. If anyone with a brain and a bulldozer would look in this direction they’d destroy this shambling building without a second thought. The kinda building I'd have hung out at in my youth to get high and throw shit off walkways in. Knowing I'd enter it soon filled me with a little bit of fear that a vengeful piece of pipe may fall off and hurt me even here, but journalism must be made. Besides, the bouncer outside guarding the errant derelict building spoke a different tune of how 'abandoned' it was.

A young man in a hoodie greeted me at the entrance, eyes scanning me as a new face, “You’ve come to flow?” he asked.

Their code words weren't hard to find on the website. Maybe it spoke to how lackadaisical their security was, or they were simply just open to the enamoured public. I gave him my best tipsy smile and guy voice, “Yeah mate! Figured I’d dip my toes in. I hear the water’s nice, ya hear?”

He chuckled like I’d said something profound and waved me in. I tried not to pull at the cloth over my nips too much.

Inside, the air was thick with incense and sweat, a cloying mix that made my fake moustache itch. The warehouse had been transformed into something far beyond the storage facility it once was: silk sheets draped over rusted girders, a plethora of cushions scattered across concrete floors, and in the centre of it all lay a shallow pool glowing with an eerie blue light. Graffiti stained the walls, 'Benzaiten Lives!', 'Fuck for Benzaiten!', each describing either orders or praise for their saviour. And resting among the rich tapestry of stained cloth and paint fumes, were the clientele of the Benzaiten cult themselves. There were masked bodies tangled everywhere, limbs entwined in ways that defied health and safety precautions, moaning through their slow methodical movements.

All seemed like a standard warehouse orgy to me.

Damn. Was I wrong about my gut on this one? Other than the weird pool in the centre there was no real bizarreness to this place. Certainly nothing to write an article about. For all I knew these were just siblings helping each other relieve their sexual urges, or a bunch of men with too much semen in their balls that needed help from a warehouse of Onaholes. No matter how I tried to spin it in my head, this really looked like just a bunch of horny people fucking in a warehouse.

"Enjoy your flow," said the bouncer that had let me in, returning to his station outside.

"And you brother bro broski!" I said with a thumbs up, quickly trying to disappear into the background of the scene.

Was there really no story to be found here? Let's just scan the area and see what I can find... A black man having his dick licked by three members of local parliament? Nope. Seen crazier blowjobs on Instagram these days. A model from a high priced magazine getting her ass eaten by a fat virgin? Nah. She's allowed to have a fetish, and he's just a lucky sumbitch. That rising politician Shido sitting in a cuck chair wearing nothing but a chastity cage while he watched the orgy with perverted glee? Dammit! There really is no story here!

I was expecting silk robes and chanting, not mundane sexual expressionism. This was the cult that has helped cure cancer for heaven’s sake! Surely there has to be something sinister behind their ability? Or at least a story about what kind of disease they aim to cure next?

My reporter instincts aren't usually this wrong... fuck, hopefully I'm not just mistaking my 'reporter' instincts for my 'I'm a horny bitch that needs to get dicked down' instincts.

No, I'm not that ****. Yet. There has to be something juicy under an unturned rock, I just needed to find it.

So first things first, some interviews.

"Scuse me," I said approaching a man laying nakedly on his back, clearly just having nutted his brains out with the woman who was walking away with condom still in ass, "I'm new here and no one gave me the rundown. Can I ask what you're doing here?"

"Hm? What else? Going with the flow~"

Yeah, they did say that Benzaiten provided 'the ultimate flow' whatever that meant. "Sure sure, me too obviously. But like... is that the ultimate goal here? Just fuck in a warehouse to feel free?"

He waved me off gently. "Don't worry, soon we won't need the security of the warehouse. Our lord will expand his rule far and wide, until everything is in his eternal flow~ I'm a devoted driftwood level three, so I'll be getting one of the sexy snake wives for my loyalty."

"R-right," this guy's a nutcase.

Don't think that soundbite will do well with a general audience, unless there's a bigger fanbase for 'sexy snake wives' than I know of. Time to switch interview targets...

"I'm here for the flow, baby~"

"Benzaiten is so dreamy! You know, conceptually."

"He cured my cancer, and now all I have to do to appease him is ram big dicks up my puss. Win-win in my book."

"Long live the flow~"

"I hear he has a vessel that causes the flow to surge forward in ways that please Benzaiten. Remember, always say yes to every question asked and you will find your life is bountiful in prosperity."

"Actually I live in the warehouse and all these freaky peeps just came in and started fucking. Let me join in though, so we cool."

"Pain and suffering will soon be a worry of the past, so why ask so many questions?"

"Flllooooowwwwwwwwwww~"

That kids is what we in the biz call a montage.

Fuck all good it does me.

From the few people I could get to stop having sex long enough to answer my questions none of them had any real answers. They just heard about this sex club and felt an instinctive pull to join it. Either because they were already praying to Benzaiten, or simply wanted more sex. Nothing dirty secrets to publish, not even a real end goal to the cult. Everyone just seems happy to fuck, including their leader.

Maybe if I can just find some sort of office to dig around in...

“Do you want to feel the flow with me, luv?”

A woman with a heavy accent had snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking. I’d been managing to keep a low profile, but this busty redhead had slinked her arms around my neck to nibble on my ear.

“U-uh, I-’d love to! But I… I’m new here, and I really need to piss in the nearest can before I do the do, ya know?”

She refused to let go, reaching down my body ever so gently, “Mm, I can be your toilet.”

“Appreciate the offer but I’m really not there yet!” I insisted, peeling off her arms before rushing off to where I could only assume the bathroom was.

This place was a fairly open space, yet the amount of bodies around made it hard to really get your bearings. The warehouse had clearly been a storage space of some kind, with various boxes strewn about to create makeshift orgy walls. I was more looking around for anywhere that could be described as ‘locked’. There had to be a reason they were using this space, someone had to own a deed in some office that, you know, may also have the cure for cancer inside as well, who knows?

I squeezed past a particularly enthusiastic pile of limbs, as quick as my feet could take me. This disguise feeling less and less like clever subterfuge by the second as I clearly wore the most clothes out of everyone. Still, there wasn’t a lot of focus on me as they fucked, which is something.

There were plenty of flimsy old wooden crates stacks around to explore, but as I turned yet another corner my eyes finally caught wind of a section that didn't match. A set of heavy-looking metal stairs, the kind that lead to a foreman’s office, were heading up at the right side of the dimly lit warehouse.

I approached cautiously, my heart starting to beat a little faster.

My reporter's nose could smell something juicy, and no, it wasn’t that third pile of sperm I’d stepped in.

Waiting till I was sure no eyes were on me, I slipped off my shoes and rushed up the metal stairs. Sure enough an office awaited me at the top, a darkly lit but thankfully unlocked little room lording over the blue tinted orgy below.

Though, very annoyingly, it was rather dusty on the inside. No one was actively using this room, or at least not every part of it. I guess that meant no one was going to disturb me, but there was a chance I was just going to find out only the warehouse’s original purpose. The shelves were mostly picked clean. Papers only describing the lube and condoms that were shipped here (I guess I found out the reason this warehouse was chosen), with no mention of Benzaiten anywhere. Lewd photos and some lost forgotten hentai mangas just further annoyed me. I really felt like there was a story here, but every turn was coming up empty…

“There! He was the one that refused to piss in my mouth! I knew you didn’t go with the flow!”

I snapped around to find out my bust had been busted. The bouncer and his mates were angrily glaring at me through the open windowed room, with the lady I’d turned down pointing angrily at me.

“F-fellas! Can’t a top bloke take a shit in peace…?” I asked, hoping that would confuse them long enough to get away.

“I’ll handle this, everyone.”

Instead of looking confused the three bouncers just parted for a new man to approach. He was tall, with broad shoulders, but he carried himself with a gentle, almost weary slouch. He wore a simple, pristine white lab coat over his otherwise bare chest, a stark contrast to the leather and latex decorating the others at the orgy. His hair was a messy, sandy brown, and his eyes… they were something else, a deep ocean of calm and chaos, brownish yellow irises that made my spine flare in worry.

“Come on out now, Ms. Ichiko Ohya. I think it’s time we had a chat.”

I gulped, it was one thing for this stranger to want me to chat with him (I was breaking and entering) but not another thing entirely that he knows my name. “Wh-who are you?”

“This body I am in is known as Takuto Maruki, at least to his friends. But you? You... can call me Benzaiten.”

I was taken calmly to the centre of the orgy. No one stopped for us, but bizarrely two chairs had been set down next to the blue pool as if they’d been waiting for us all along. Simple, plain, garden chairs, yet they held so much bizarre fear when I approached.

“Sit with me, won’t you?” said the strange psychiatrist man. “I’d like to conduct our interview. ‘A meeting with a God’ should be enough of a headline to entice your readers, correct?”

“Sure…”

This was beyond my pay grade. I don't really believe this guy is a God, but I do believe he's a dangerous delusional cult leader who is now pissed off at me while I have no backup. This 'interview' could go very south very quickly if I'm not careful. Damn Ren, reigniting my passion for the truth, getting me to come out of my comfort zone of Crossroads. I could be drowning in booze right now, not interviewing some freak that thought he was all powerful.

Takuto Maruki. I’d read up about him during my investigation into Ren and the Phantom Thieves. Just a regular school counsellor coming in after the Kamoshida incident to help some kids through it. Never took him for the egocentric evangelical type, though something about the case of the amnesiac woman he’d once been engaged with did raise some flag with me. Not enough to investigate him thoroughly, which I certainly regret now.

Still, it was strange. He wasn’t acting like you’d expect a counsellor to act. The way he slouched, the way he never really sat still. Soft movements, like he was treading water in a lazy river, even while he sat. Even his hair seemed to be drifting back and forth with his head movements. It looked lazy and frantic at the same time. Probably a druggie if I had to guess. I mean, who else goes around claiming they’re a God?

“I do,” he said, with a far too calm smile. “You’ll sit down now, won’t you?”

I nodded, taking the seat opposite from him despite my brain telling me to run, “Right… the interview.” I smiled, trying to appease the man with the gang of hoodlums that would certainly beat me up. I hadn’t really prepared any questions but I still got out a pen and notepad to jot down whatever interesting things may pop up, “So… Benzaiten.”

“Wassup, Ms. Ichiko,” he responded in a cavalier manner, throwing up a peace sign briefly before lazily letting it drop.

The hell am I supposed to ask him?

“Tell me… have you always been Benzaiten?”

He didn’t frown or smile, just simply moving his head from leaning left to leaning right, “I know what you’re implying. You’re wondering about Maruki, the man I’m currently possessing.”

“Possessing… yes,” I nodded. Holy shit I needed to get out of here.

“Chill, girlie. I can only possess those that are willing. Maruki and I… we have an understanding, get me? Our goals have cosmically aligned. Our powers beautifully slot together. I don't usually take his form from him unless we agree upon it. Public speaking is more my forte than his, lol.”

I continued to nod, most of this flying over my head but still jotting it down for the mental health workers I’d call on him later, “Mm, I see. So you both have powers? Interesting. Do you mind telling me more about them, and how they help your ‘goals’ as you put it?”

“Come on~ Surely you know what kind of God whose temple you infiltrated tonight?" he asked with a sneer, throwing his hands apart to present himself to me, "I am Benzaiten, the God of the Flow~ The son of a time god and a water goddess, my power comes from all things that move forwards unencumbered. This, combined with Maruki’s power over reality, helped us both achieve feats we’d only dream of without the other! The Velvet Room, Yaldabaoth, even that clown Erebus, nothing can stop us now.” He was smiling widely now, stretching out on his plastic chair like it was the throne of King Midas. Reaching down to stroke a nearby woman’s hair who was being eaten out nearby, “Beautiful isn’t it? Humanity. The eternal story that’s never done surprising you.”

“It keeps me in business,” I quipped back, hoping that levity will keep my head attached to my neck.

"Can you believe there's an asshole out there that thinks the world needs to be controlled more?" He asked with a click of his tongue, "If I hadn't stepped in he would have fused this world with that of Mementos. Would have totally killed humanity's freedom vibe. 'Course, Maruki didn't really have the full picture neither. Without me his plan just becomes control of a different flavour. Nah, letting the world flow is the best answer. Right?"

"R-right..." I feel like I believe him for some reason, but I wasn't really sure why or what he meant. "Um... I’d like to circle back to your goals. I guess me and the readers probably aren't fully understanding the big picture here.”

“To be fair, Hun? Even though your name is in the title, this chapter isn’t really for you,” he chuckled, “Goals, eh? It’s simple really: I want the story to continue, forever.”

I recoiled slightly in confusion, “The… ‘story’?”

He nodded like I was an idiot, “Yeah! The longer the story flows, the better! TV shows are so much better now that they get infinite seasons! Songs you love never ending at the good part! Even life’s great ending, removed from the equation.”

Sounds like it would get tedious fast. He’d managed to remove cancer, but… “Are you saying… no more… ****?”

“Maruki agreed. He thinks that the world should be happy, and the imperfections of life need to be removed for an unending utopia. In his world, those that we love can be brought back. I wanted to go one step beyond and remove the chance of them ever leaving in the first place. Then grow even more humans! Humanity! Forever fucking for fun! Only growing their beautiful lively babies until we fill the cosmos with love!”

“...right…” I have no idea where to take this interview. This wasn’t off the deep end, this was lead shoes into the Mariana trench end. Even appeasing him with continuing felt like the wrong move, though I wasn’t really bereft of options here. “Um… how do you plan to… achieve this?”

“The word ‘yes’ has a lot of hope inside it,” he smirked, “I have a man out there who can only receive the word yes, and I know he’s just loving his life deep down. He wasn't my first attempt to achieve 'Eternal Flow'. Everything always goes wrong at the last second. Person 1 and Person 2 didn't know how good I could make it for them, they started a rumour about me that ruined all my changes to the world. I got close with Person 3, so much so I tried them twice, but the guy turned into a door right when the going was good and the girl just became a sex ghost, the little minx. Person 4 had this whole CEO of Sex thing going where he paired up his friends... then got really angry when I tried to age up his younger sister. Like, really angry. I saw the fanart of her, but no one actually wanted it! Especially him, he hunted me down through his TV and stabbed me in the heart.”

“Anyway, I really thought Person 5 was the one, not only was it the time where Maruki had come from, the new guy had charisma and charm with no qualms going down the harem route... and then he shot me in the face. With an absolutely huge gun might I add. Said this world wasn't mine to do with as I pleased, ignoring the fact I was following his changes, the asshole. I decided 'fuck it', do a royal do over after a quick rewind of time. Had to change reality a little to make him more palatable than that dour figure he was before. Altered the man's stats page before playing again. Guy named himself ‘Joker’ and then never speaks… nah, my version of him is much more fun. He sweats, he complains, he lusts... still couldn't get rid of the man he was underneath. That dashing hero with an iron will, but you know... at least he asks more questions now.” 'Joker'? He was talking about Ren? Had I run into Phantom Thief stuff without realising it? “Yes, you have. But I’m afraid I can’t really let you tell him, Ichiko Ohya.”

Something about the way he said my name sent a wave of fear through me. Those eyes looking deep into my soul, it felt like my life was suddenly reaching its conclusion.

“U-uh… I-I don’t need to publish this, if you don’t want me to…”

“You know, I’ve never been a big fan of reporters,” he continued, standing slowly from his chair before greasing back his hair and moving towards me, “You are a story teller like me, which I like, but something about their nature that rubs me the wrong way. Like they tell their stories wrong. They usually come at the end of the adventure, when everything is wrapping up. The truth comes out thanks to good ol’ April O’ Neil and everyone agrees that now the people know there will be no chance justice won’t prevail. The good guys have won. The end.” he was looming over me now, making me feel absolutely tiny, “I don’t really like the end, capiche?”

I usually have a great flight over fight instinct. Getting out when I can when a story turns south, knowing my limits in an investigation, looking like a meek little girl to squeeze that little bit more information out of a target.

But sometimes flight just doesn't work.

“Oh, fuck off!”

He blinked at that, not expecting me to throw my pen at him dismissively, “Bah-scuse me?”

“You heard! What, you think you're hot shit just cause you have some 'ultimate power'? Sounds like you failed a bunch of times, loser! Maybe humanity isn't just some big toy for you to fuck around with after all!”

“I am trying to remove pain! ****! All the negativity of the world will be gone and-!”

I laughed in his face to cut him off, “Hah! Don't even get me started on that load of crap! 'Getting rid of the bad things that make sad', what are you, nine years old?! This isn't some grand altruistic plan of a God, you just want people to like you! Egomaniacal 'god'. Ohh, I've dated a ton of creeps like you. They say they're nice, but it's always my fault for their shitty behaviour. Even when they hold all the power, they still want you to know it.”

Maruki was practically frothing at the mouth now, “You little-”

“I bet deep down you think the Phantom Thieves want to team up with you and save the world, but they're just too level headed to give your Saturday morning bullshit the time of day. Manipulation really is your only card left when you're that much of a perverted little loser, isn't it?” I stood defiantly at the mad man, ready to make a run for it before facing the music, “This interview is over.”

“Yes, it is.”

The way he spoke made my soul flinch in fear, “H-huh?”

“I looked at your game bio. Says you're roughly in your twenties, which is a good age to date some average silent teenage protag that happens to have a thing for Lois Lane types. But I think we need to slot you in with a different character. Age you up a bit. You must be tired of the reporting life anyway, right? You’re, what, secretly nearing thirty years of age now, right?” he asked. How the hell did he know my real age? I have been in this business for ages, but no one knows about that. Even Ren believed I was still in my twenties… “Wouldn’t it be nicer to settle for a nice man? To find someone to settle in with on those lonely nights?”

“Of course… but I’ve never found someone who-”

“Oh, I think you’ll find Mr. Right very soon. In fact, won’t you close your eyes for me?” I did as he asked, “I think the next man you see after you open your eyes will be the man you will truly love. It helps that this night was a waste of your time. You’ll only remember coming to the orgy, finding nothing, having a bit of fun, then leaving. It was morning by the time you exited, and you wanted something to drink, but only found my favourite coffee shop just opening up its doors. And when you open your eyes, you’ll be standing outside of it. Isn’t that all correct?”

“Yes.”

“‘Yes’… as in, yes you’d like to come inside?”

I blinked.

I was standing outside of a coffee shop in a small street in a corner of Tokyo I’d never been in before. The sounds of morning traffic hit me before the beams of light reflected off a nearby building to hit me right in the tired corneas.

Had I really been out all night at that orgy? Man I could use a drink.

I stepped forwards away from the light, forgetting for a second that a man had been talking to me and getting a little too close to him. Landing myself in his chest.

“Woah! Careful there,” he said with a deep sexy voice, “You look like you could use something strong. Want to come inside for a drink?”

I’d never seen anyone so handsome before. Weathered, lived-in skin that still shone in the sunlight. Eyes that had seen so much yet still studied me like I was something worth looking at. Rugged manly stench of coffee and curry, with a warm smile that welcomed me in without demanding I stay. He felt so real, far away from the loud blaring music of Crossroads and the eternal fakeness of the entertainment industry I reported on. I couldn’t help but feel my heart thump hard in my chest at our closeness, and the ache of loneliness when I moved away from his personal bubble.

“I’d really like that.”