Vol 3 SS: Koenji Rokusuke 1

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Year 1

Season 1

Volume 3 - "One Must Deceive Himself"

SS: Koenji Rokusuke 1

Koenji Rokusuke POV

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Flashback Five Years Ago

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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

A loud drumming sound reverberates throughout my master bedroom-sized suite in the Koenji Estate.

"You may enter."

The door knob twists as my parents comes in. 

What could they possibly need from me? Can't they see that my butler is giving me a beauty salon's treatment at home?

"Rokusuke," Mother says. "Pack your suitcases. Two days from now, we're going on a free trip to America."

"A free trip? America? Pft. Why should I, of all people, expend the energy to go there?" I sit up, making my butler obediently stop his grooming of my delicate skin.

My father grips my shoulders. "Rokusuke, listen to me. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity provided to us by an extremely wealthy Japanese businessman who extended this invitation to us." 

At my lack of response, he breathes deeply. "You're such an entitled brat with a narrow mind that looks down on those different from you, so I think it's time I give you a reality check."

Two days later, I frown as I follow after my parents while we board an airplane. 

"See, son? After 9/11, security-" My dad goes on and on about how terrorism has taken away privacy and freedoms of people across the globe.

I couldn't care less.

I interrupt him, "You still haven't told me where exactly we're going."

"Hu! Hu! Huuuu!" Dad laughs. "Now then, my boy. Be patient. Eat this!"

He hands me a candy bar.

I look at him confused.

"You're not you when you're hungry!"

"Hmph!" I toss the candy bar away. "As if Koenji Rokusuke gets hungry. Never."

An hour later, I got hungry, ate a delicious meal from the menu the flight attendants gave me as my stomach was unable to resist, and fell asleep.

After a 14 hour and 10 minute flight from Tokyo, we arrive at our destination: New York City.

We exit the door of our private jet and make our way down the stairs.

Waiting for us directly on the tarmac is a limousine with several heavily-armed bodyguards standing by. I mentally note a team of twelve.

"Are you the Koenjis?" A bald man with sunglasses approaches us.

Usually, the passengers in a limo ride in the seats closest to the rear of the vehicle, but we were placed in the middle with six bodyguards behind us and another six in front.

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