“Aya,” whispered Jiro, “For the last time: I’m not going to masturbate with you.”

They were inside one of Sochi Bay’s giant shopping malls. Floors and more floors of shops selling groceries, toys, various fashion items for men and women. Jiro realized for the first time it was the weekend: the shopping center was crowded. It felt like the whole of Japan had come here to do their post-payday leisure shopping.

“Come on Jiro,” Aya said, tying her blonde highlights back up into a bun. “It’ll be good for you. You need to loosen up a bit. And what better way to get loose than to …” Aya cupped her hands and shouted: “MASTURBATE!”

Two dozen heads turned at Aya’s voice. A mother holding hands with her young child gave them an angry look. An old man with a cane frowned and shook his head.

“Shh!” hissed Jiro, turning red. “How can you say something like that?! We’re supposed to be looking for clues about your ship,” he whispered. “It’s been hours and we’ve hardly found any information. How can you think about masturbation at a time like this?”

“We’ve been on our feet for ages,” complained Aya, shaking out her muscular legs. “Don’t you think it’s time to take a break?” She leaned against a glass railing and looked down at the shoppers flowing through the corridors below. Something gleamed in her eyes. “Besides, I can’t take it anymore!” She licked her lips. “The thought of doing it here … the risk of getting caught …” She shuddered. “It gets me so excited. Doesn’t it get you excited, Jiro?”

Jiro scratched his head. Aya’s nipples had grown hard: he could see the light switches poking beneath the fabric of her spaghetti top. This girl … she has a monstrous voyeuristic streak. She was also right, though. They did need a break. His legs were numb from all the walking. It felt like they had covered half the bay area in search of clues. But the clues they had found brought more questions than answers: someone (or something) had broken into a sponge factory and walked off with all the sponges; an entire vat of sake had disappeared from a brewery; another giant “pawprint” had appeared in a dried-up rice field.

Jiro could make no sense of it. Surely this was a monster of some kind. But what was it trying to do? And where could it possibly be hiding? Plus, there was no guarantee that this monster had anything to do with the Hinomaru.

Jiro froze. What was Aya doing? Nearby one of the escalators was an area for parking strollers. Aya stepped over a cylindrical metal rail and sandwiched it between her legs. Slowly, with horror, Jiro watched as Aya began to grind her hips up and down the railing. With each grinding motion, he could see her muscular butt cheeks clench beneath her shorts.

Jiro looked around in a panic. This girl was crazy. All around them were people! Old grannies, young couples, mothers pushing strollers. At any moment, somebody would discover her. To his horror, Jiro felt himself growing hard inside his jeans. He was getting aroused … in a situation like this! Any more of this, and he would die from the embarrassment.

“Come on,” he hissed to Aya. “Let’s find somewhere private. I want to take a break.”

“That’s more like it!” she said. “Where are we going?”

Aya swung her leg back over the railing. Jiro could not help but stare. There was clearly a dark patch on her shorts, where she had rubbed against the metal railing. Aya caught Jiro looking. Into his ear she whispered, “Guess what, Jiro?”

“You peed yourself?”

“No,” said Aya with a giggle. “I forgot to put on my panties this morning.” Jiro gulped. He had to get them out of this situation fast. He adjusted his jeans as best he could and led Aya up an escalator to the top floor of the mall. A pair of glass doors opened out onto an outdoor area.

“Aww,” said Aya. “There’s nobody else around.”

The deck was open to the sky. There was a jungle gym, a trampoline, and some other playthings for children. But it was abandoned. Jiro sank into a lounge chair near the jungle gym and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t worked this hard to hide an erection since high school.

Aya plopped down on a chair across from him. The dark spot on her shorts had spread even further. Then, without warning, Aya crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her spaghetti top, and pulled the whole thing off in a single motion. Freed from the restraining fabric, her cantaloupe breasts plopped down and then bounded back up, defying gravity. Her tan, flawless skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

“What are you doing?!” hissed Jiro.

“I don’t like tan lines,” said Aya with a shrug. “Besides there’s nobody around.” With another smooth motion, she raised her hips, hooked a finger under her waistband, and slid her shorts down her legs.

“Aya!” Jiro averted his eyes. “Someone could come at any time.”

“Relax, Jiro. We’ll hear the glass doors squeak if anyone comes in. Now come on … let’s finish what we started.” In the corner of his eye, he could see her reach between her legs. She let out a moan.

Jiro felt a burst of anger rise within him. This girl was stringing him along again. She was no better than a kaiju. “Aya, stop it.”

“Why, don’t you like me, Jiro? I know you do, from the way you look at me. I felt you sniffing my armpits that night in the tent …”

“Listen, Aya. You’re a very attractive girl. Any guy would love to be with you. But I don’t want this. I’m not ready for this kind of intimacy.”

Aya crossed her bare legs. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re still in love with your old girlfriend.”

Jiro felt a little pain in his stomach. He didn’t know what to say.

“Who broke it off? You or her?”

“She did …”

“If she broke it off, then she’s not coming back, you know. They never do.”

Jiro felt another wrench of pain. Yes, he knew that Misha was never coming back. She would never come back to him again.

Because, as far as he knew, the dead did not come back to life.