“You’ve certainly developed the air of a chairman.”
“Hey, no teasing.”
“Is that a golfing tan?”
“No, it’s from surfing,” replied Hasunuma. “My hair’s gotten redder too, see?” he said somewhat proudly, pinching his short hair for Kisaragi to see.
“So you’re a surfer now?”
“Yeah. I surf with my patients. Occupational therapy.”
Hasunuma’s hospital was a psychiatric hospital which accepted patients not only with mental illnesses such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, but also those with drug and alcohol addictions. Kisaragi had heard that they had built a new wing for Morita therapy.
Kisaragi nodded in understanding. “By the way, you haven’t eaten yet, right?”
Hasunuma’s face suddenly clouded. “Sorry. I actually don’t have time. I didn’t think the training would go on for so long. I actually have to be at the New National Theatre by seven.”
“What?” Kisaragi tilted his head, unable to see where Hasunuma was going with the conversation.
“It’s, um… ballet. I made a promise to go watch….” Hasunuma sighed and shrugged in an exaggerated way. “Ballet, can you believe? Only women and children watch that stuff.”
In their high school days, Hasunuma had been the captain of the football team, and a typical athlete. Although his gallant good looks drew the attention of the girls, Hasunuma himself insisted he would master both art and sports, and not so much as strayed off the path to play such games. But Kisaragi mentally agreed that ballet didn’t go with Hasunuma’s image.
“What’s the occasion?”
“It’s, uh… match-making. She’s brought someone over - my aunt, I mean. And after it’s done, we’re supposed to go out to eat.”
Kisaragi felt his body go cold, but replied in a bright voice. “I see. Well, it’s no surprise,” he said. “You’re probably up next. There aren’t many of us left in our cohort who haven’t tied the knot yet.”
“Not for you to say,” Hasunuma said.
Kisaragi answered with an easy smile. He had fooled many people this way.
Chapter 4
The throng of men moved like shadows under the dim lights on the dance floor. Some grinded against each other as if imitating sex. There was a square boxing ring that stood out sorely in the middle of the spacious room, and the white mat seemed to glow faintly.
Matches were conducted occasionally, and on those nights the floor teemed with crazed cheers for both sides. But now the floor was simply immersed in the strains of a slow ballad by Bon Jovi. The men in the room were occupied with only one purpose - to find a companion for the night.
The club was called Guys, and it was where people gathered for relations with no strings attached. Kisaragi had been a regular for nearly ten years now.
Gays who sought an emotional connection eventually began to feel unsatisfied and drifted somewhere else. Those who kept on coming back were those who came with the purpose of having sex, and that aligned with Kisaragi’s own purposes, too.
They would signal to each other with their eyes, making barely any conversation, and would vent their pent-up sexual energy in a small room on the second floor. The room was bare. With nothing but a sofa and a sink, it was only slightly better than a toilet. Some people chose to go to a hotel rather than put up with the appalling conditions, but Kisaragi always turned down such offers to be “taken out”.
Once the deed was done, he would return to the first floor. If he felt like it, he searched for someone else. Sometimes he would go straight home to his condo instead.
It was Kisaragi’s custom to visit Guys about twice a month. On this day, he took his time sipping a shot on the rocks.
It was widely known here that sex with Kisaragi was brittle and lacking in warmth. Although Kisaragi’s face was hard to resist for many men, he was seldom propositioned because of this fact. Newcomers always got hooked on him once, but often stopped making offers after a few times in bed because of Kisaragi’s lack of affection.
This aligned perfectly with Kisaragi’s own objectives. It was also why he had taken a liking to this club.
Eventually a man in a suit took a seat beside him. “Long time no see,” he said. Kisaragi stared up at his face, vaguely remembering that the man had called himself Jiro once. They had slept together two or three times. The sex was mediocre.
“Yu, right? Care for one?”
“Sure,” Kisaragi nodded, moving away from the counter. Once they entered the room, Jiro was quick to make his move.
“Put on a condom,” Kisaragi said.
Jiro shook his head as if in exasperation, and headed toward the vending machine beside the sink. Since the condom was coated in jelly, they were able to begin the act immediately. Everything about it seemed like cheap fast food.
Once Jiro had put on the condom, he proceeded to pin Kisaragi on the sofa and insert himself.
“Funny, isn’t it, even though you’re so hot down here. You know people call you the ice queen?”
Kisaragi did not answer as he felt the thickness of the thing within him. He stared at the fluorescent light on the ceiling, unremarkable like any other.
“How is it, Yu? Am I good?” Jiro moaned as he moved his hips. When he brought his face closer for a kiss, Kisaragi blocked him with his palm.
“Same as always, huh, Yu? But I actually like it like that.” Jiro grinned as he began to rub Kisaragi’s member. “I can see that this here isn’t connected to your heart.”
“I don’t like to be chatty. Shut up and move.”
“Fine,” Jiro said, smiling widely again, gyrating his hips in large motions. “Coming right up, princess.”
Once he felt his temperature rise, Kisaragi finally closed his eyes.
You have no carnal instinct.
Kisaragi suddenly heard the words at his ear - words he had heard long ago. His body twitched. Jiro grunted on top of him.
“Don’t squeeze me like that, Yu!”
His words did not reach Kisaragi, who was envisioning the face of the man he had parted with earlier.
“Don’t you have any impulses?” Hasunuma had asked him, one night over some drinks.
Of course I do.
It was true. One only needed to peel back a thin layer to reveal the writhing desire beneath. That’s why I’m having this kind of sex. I rid myself of my desires so that I don’t direct any at you. When it builds up, I let it out. That’s it. I vent before it starts to seep through. Just like this. Mechanical.
Kisaragi clenched the stiff desire that moved within him, trying to get a grasp of it.
“Ahh, Yu, it’s so good! I can feel it - you’re unbelievable-“ Jiro continued to vocalize noisily as he repeated his pistons. Kisaragi closed his eyes as he waited for the moment to arrive.
He let out a quiet noise as he released himself.
“Yu, Yu, ah, it’s so good!” Moments later, Jiro also released himself as he collapsed on top of Kisaragi. As he lay there breathing raggedly, Kisaragi pushed him off roughly.
“Get off of me.”
Jiro heaved a sigh as he proceeded to pull out. His member was still half-erect as he pulled the condom off and tossed it into the garbage bin. He looked sadly at Kisaragi, who was pulling his pants on.
“Aloof as always, aren’t you?” he said.
“Yes.” Kisaragi looked coolly at Jiro.
After that, Kisaragi allowed two more men to straddle him that night. Although he had only climaxed once, he decided to wrap it up and leave.
&nbs
p; As he stepped outside of the club, the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden located across sprawled before his eyes, with its black cluster of trees and surrounding walls. Although the club was classified as being on Shinjuku Ni-Chome, the building which housed the club was actually located physically apart from Shinuku Ni-Chome, on the south side of Meijidori. Kisaragi was always greeted with the barren sight after he had finished his business in the club. He sneered inwardly at himself, as he always did, at the way it seemed to reflect his inner soul.
Without anywhere to go in particular, Kisaragi headed toward Shinjuku Station.
Chapter 5
Kisaragi was having a drink at a cramped bar.
There were no other customers except for him. Two women with thick makeup were eating rice balls in a corner. He had ended up in Kabukicho in search of the crowds and noise, and had followed a random touter into the bar.
Kisaragi mechanically knocked back his brandy. He had never been one to get drunk easily. In a sense, he had turned to sex to forget his problems because alcohol did not allow him to.
But tonight, he couldn’t even turn to sex to distract him. Needless to say, it was because he had been faced with the harsh reality that Hasunuma was getting married. Although Hasunuma had said it was only a matchmaking session, Kisaragi figured he would eventually get married.
What am I thinking?
Hasunuma had never belonged to him, and never would. Kisaragi scoffed at himself for the toll that the news was taking on him. I guess that means I still had hope when I thought I’d abandoned it all.
He had been in high school when he started to realize that perhaps other males were the object of his sexual desire. When he started attending university and met Hasunuma, that suspicion turned to certainty. He was also equally certain that his crush would never be requited.
Don’t you have any impulses?
Kisaragi had dismissed the question with a laugh.
Hasunuma was like the sun, with his cheerful personality. He was trusted by his upperclassmen and looked up to by his underclassmen. From what Kisaragi heard, he had been president of the student council in high school.
Hasunuma called Kisaragi his best friend. Kisaragi, on the other hand, desperately hid his desires. Why did he have to live like this, with such sunken spirits? Hidden in the shadows, like a plant that produced no flowers or fruit?
The man would never be his, anyway; and if that was the case, Kisaragi wished he could degrade him, humiliate him, and destroy him. He wanted Hasunuma to go through the same feelings he had gone through.
But who would be able to guess that Kisaragi housed such a violent beast within him?
One day, I might end up hurting him.
Kisaragi was gripped by fear. Although he carried ambivalent feelings of love toward Hasunuma, he could not bring himself to hurt him. If Kisaragi could not destroy him, he had no choice but to destroy himself.
He had fleeting sexual encounters and refused any soulful connection with people.
Back when he had first began visiting Guys, he was straddled by as many as five different men per night. As Kisaragi satisfied his self-destructive impulses, he felt liberated for the first time.
This is the way I should be. Fallen.
He felt as if it was a way to balance his contrasting outward appearance of a competent and well-renowned physician.
By the time Kisaragi had gone through a whole bottle of brandy, even he was a little unsteady on his feet.
“The bill,” he said to the waiter. He looked at the number on the slip and could not help but laugh. “I see. This must be what they call those rip-off bars.”
Two waiter stood in front of Kisaragi. At the entrance of the bar was a well-built man in a black suit with his back against the door.
“Unfortunately, this is all I have.” Kisaragi took out three 10,000 yen bills* from his shirt pocket. He could laugh or cry, but this was still all he had. He carried a minimal amount of cash when he went to Guys. He made sure not to carry his driver’s license or credit card, or anything else that could identify him. He didn’t mind ending up dead in a ditch somewhere. The only thing that tied him to his identity was the watch he wore. If it was stolen, he would be an unidentified body. But that was also Kisaragi’s wish.
He didn’t care about the insults that would be directed at him after death. Once dead, that was the end for him.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make do with this.”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” said one of the waiters who had a thuggish-looking face.
“I really don’t have any money.”
The waiter gave Kisaragi a pat-down, with the man in the black suit standing by.
“Manager, he’s right. He’s not even carrying a cell phone.”
The man in the black suit wore an exasperated expression. “Are you kidding me? Let’s see if he can phone a friend.”
“No way,” Kisaragi said. “But if you want to beat me up, go ahead.”
“Unfortunately we can’t do that. Laws against bars that rip people off,” added the man in the black suit, his lips twisting in disdain. He reached out to grab Kisaragi’s chin. “He’s a pretty one. Should we sell him off so he can get gang-banged?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Kisaragi gave a bitter smile. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to fall until he could fall no further. Perhaps it would be better so he would never harbor any false hopes again.
The man in the black suit appeared disturbed that his words had no seemed to instill any fear into Kisaragi.
“But money comes first. We’ll keep him here until tomorrow and make him call his workplace.”
“I won’t.”
While they conversed, the waiter gave Kisaragi another pat-down, and pulled out a business card from his trouser pocket.
“He was carrying this.”
“Oh,” Kisaragi said, widening his narrow eyes. “Someone gave that to me. I don’t know him.”
“Then you can pray to the heavens that he’s nice enough to save your ass.” The waiter took out his cell phone. “Hello? Is this Mr. Kanesaki? Your friend wants to talk to you.”
Kisaragi reluctantly took the phone.
“Who is this?” said a deep voice.
“It’s Yu Kisaragi,” Kisaragi answered.
“Oh, that doctor who looks like an actor. Thanks for today. So, what do you want at this hour of the night?”
“Some trouble has come up,” Kisaragi said crisply. The man in the black suit swiped the cell phone back.
“Your friend here tried to dine and dash. I’m wondering if you can foot the bill for him.”
Kisaragi regarded the man’s face in resignation, certain that Kanesaki would not agree. But the man’s face broke into a gleeful grin.
“He says he’ll pay. He’s on his way to pick you up now.”
“That’s absurd,” Kisaragi muttered.
“You can sit there and wait,” said the waiter as he shoved Kisaragi in the shoulder. Kisaragi half-tumbled into his seat.
About fifteen minutes later, the door was kicked open and a group of three men, quite obviously of the yakuza type, came striding in. The man in the black suit appeared bewildered as he stood up.
“Can I help you?”
“Cut the crap. You invited us here,” snarled one man with a bent nose, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. “We came to pick up Mr. Kanesaki’s acquaintance, you hear?”
One of the men shoved the waiter out of the way and bowed deeply to Kisaragi. “We’ve come to escort you. Doctor, Mr. Kanes
aki is waiting for you.”
“Right….” Kisaragi finally recalled what Arima had told him. A shell company for his yakuza organization. Kisaragi realized how useful the business card had really been. As he emerged from the bar amidst careful attention from the gangsters, he saw a white Mercedes-Benz parked on the curb.
“Mr. Kanesaki, here he is.”
The driver opened the rear door widely for him. Similar to the other low-ranking members, he wore his hair tightly permed and sported a scar on his cheek. A man in a black suit sat inside.
The Sundered Page 2