by Viola Grace
In my nostrils still lives the breath of flowers that perished twenty years ago.
For another moment, I thought about the island on which I’d been born and which was still my home…well up until this moment it had been my home. Ni’ihau, known as The Forbidden Island since nobody but the two hundred and fifty pure blood Hawaiian residents were allowed to set foot on it. Over the years, I’d enjoyed brief forays away from there to the island of Kauai, where I had my little sexual trysts, and loaded up on toiletries and groceries that were impossible to find on my island. These sojourns had sustained me through long, difficult years of isolation. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad that I would never see Ni’ihau again.
What I would miss were family members. My Uncle Chooey, who on rare outings to Honolulu on the island of Oahu, took me and my sister, Mim, to those oh, so scary obake-neko, Japanese horror movies at the Roosevelt Theatre. My heart pained at the memory of sauntering down to that old theater on Maunakea Street between Pauahi and Beretania. Mim and I had loved Uncle Chooey. I remember how we enjoyed the movie and always, as we were walking home, we’d stop at one of the saimin stands by the theater and inhale twenty-five cent bowls of saimin noodles and ten-cent barbecue chicken sticks.
I bit my lip. My sister was dead, the theater and the saimin stands were long gone and Uncle Chooey…Uncle Chooey got eaten by a shark as he walked through the surf not far from his house in Oahu a few years ago. Just remembering him brought pleasure and pain. I think we were really happy then. Was that really the last time I knew such joy? I wondered what he would think of my circumstances now and I got up, brushed off my pants and decided I better check out my new home. As I looked around me, I saw I was on a large island, much more lush that Ni’ihau, and for that I was thankful.
Breathing deeply, I detected pines. That was not a familiar smell to me except high up in some parts of the Big Island of Hawaii. I stopped. Another smell. Good God, sulphur. I could hear the hiss of gasses, my head turning in the direction of wisps of smoke. Climbing up hill faster now, I encountered a fumerole, a heat vent and beyond it, the unmistakable sight of yellow sulphur powder. An active volcano.
“Hello.”
I jumped, wondering if I was in possession of any of my kahuna powers anymore. A banished high priest was usually stripped of his magical talents, which meant I could not use any extra sensory benefits to repel the woman standing behind me if I needed to protect myself.
“Are you the new ranger?”
I turned to look at her. She had a heavy European accent. I scanned her outfit. Thick winter clothing, waterproof boots, sealskin hat and coat. As she kept talking, I realized she was Russian.
“My husband is taking photos, but I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Katarina, my husband, Wladimir, is enchanted with the boiling lake.” She laughed. “I’ve had a great time, but I’m happy to be leaving tonight. This monsoon weather is too crazy for my blood. Hurricanes yesterday, that heavy mist all morning…I can get bad weather back home in Kiev.” She shook open a piece of paper. “Now, what do you know of this hotel?” She thrust the page under my nose.
I read it quickly, dumfounded to see the dubious heading of Santa Resorts, a confirmation for the Hotel Sakhalin Sapporo and below this an itinerary for Kunashir Island. Where the hell was Kunashir? “I know nothing about it.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”
She looked disappointed. “It’s changed hands many times between Russia and Japan, but since my magazine is footing the bill, I picked the place with the best reviews. They say the hotel is very popular with the Russian tourists…oh, there’s Wladimir now. Wladi! Come and meet the new ranger.”
“But I’m not the ranger,” I jumped in quickly. “I’m a tourist here myself.”
“Oh…” Katarina looked surprised. “But I thought with the new hurricanes coming tonight, they weren’t letting anyone else on the island.”
“I’m collecting specimens.” I had no idea where the lie came from, but she looked pleased when I informed her of this.
“Oh, you’re the one! I heard there was a guy collecting spiders here. Amazing how many we’ve found, huh, Wladimir?”
He nodded. “Entire plants up the caldera swarming with spider eggs, you’ll be happy to know. We were going to pick some peaches, but they were infested. Where’s your kit?”
I waved my hand in a vague way toward some spot over my left ear.
“Oh, the rangers’ cabin?” the woman asked me. “Those damned bears punched out all the windows last night. I thought at first it was the hurricanes coming back, but they were looking for food. You should be okay up there.” Her dubious expression belied her words.
Wladimir glanced at me. “So you will you be staying tonight?”
“Probably.” Every night for the rest of my life.
“You sure? I mean, weather looks bad…you should come back to Hokkaido with us…the boat leaves in an hour.”
I almost screamed, Japan? Are you kidding me? I just stared at them. What was a Russian couple doing on an uninhabited Japanese island? And then a man in a uniform was coming toward us and he, too, looked Russian.
“Boat’s here.” He looked at me. “Who are you?”
“Mahini—”
I did not get a chance to complete my sentence. He was checking his watch.
“Folks, you’d better get back down to shore. The boat’s coming. We need everyone off the island.”
We allowed ourselves to be escorted down the slippery slope and when Wladimir turned to ask me about my kit, I almost punched him.
“I’ll be back. I’m sure nobody needs it.”
But as we neared the ancient patrol boat puttering down a river toward us, a strange thing happened. Something…an unseen force knocked me right in the gut, sending me spinning backward and I blew into the air. Up and over like a runaway balloon I soared. My breath caught in my throat…far below me I could see the ranger and the Russian couple searching around for me, arms gesticulating wildly as my mouth opened in a silent scream and I plunged back to the earth with a hard thud.
I woke up some time later, thanks to a violent squall. Rain fell on me in unremitting sheets and I got up, aware of darkness, the relentless rainfall and started to laugh. Ni’ihau was an island dying for one good solid rainfall. I mean, literally dying. As lush as its nearest neighbor Kauai is, Ni’ihau is like living in a desert. I’d gone from one extreme to the other.
Trust me, a voice said inside my soul. Kimo.
It was as if he’d infused me with new life, new energy. I turned and ran, sloshing and falling upcountry, determined to find the ranger’s hut. For a long time I ran, so blinded by fast-falling darkness and the unceasing deluge that I ran with my hands outstretched, tears and rain scalding my eyes.
I had fallen in love with Johnny. I had tried to control him with a binding spell called a bundle in ancient times. Yes, I’d been wrong, but I’d become a hostage to my emotions, controlled by fear, guided by lust. A dangerous combination in any man’s hands. A potential stick of dynamite in a kahuna’s grip. The magic had backfired, not three fold, but a hundred thousand times. My hands smacked into trees, plants and then…something else. I felt around with rubbery fingertips. Smooth wood. Sides. It had to be the rangers’ cabin.
Almost screaming with fury when I was unable to enter the little structure, I put my shoulder to the door and found it gave way. It was simply warped due to the weather. I shut the door again. I didn’t care what creatures lurked inside. I needed a respite from the rain and cold. I forced myself to calm down, but all my natural resources failed me. I found a blanket in the dark and dried my face and hands. The little house was freezing. Still unable to see in the now pitch darkness, I shuffled forward and banged right into a bed. My hands connected with the mattress and I lay on it, breathing raggedly. I took my time getting composed, my fingers feeling around me.
Oh, God. A warm spot. Somebody had just been in here. Swallowing hard, I was aware of breathing from somewhere far
away. Whoever…whatever it was, reacted to my presence, sensing I’d detected theirs. The sound of footsteps. I knew it was a person now and they ran for the door.
“Wait!” I shouted.
Heavy breathing…very heavy breathing.
“Please don’t go.”
A low, growly voice. “Who are you?”
“My name is Mahini and I…I just arrived today. What’s your name?”
“We’ll talk in the morning.” The door opened and softly closed and I was alone. I lay back on the bed and, despite all my fear and the cold, I fell asleep. On and off I dozed through miserable bouts of lightning and thunder, a strange smell on the sheets. I was grateful for the first milky rose shafts of sunlight because by this time I was starving and I was anxious to get a closer look at the shack. I was shocked to see great tufts of cream-colored fur and blood on the sheets all around me. The fur clung to my wet clothing and I got up from the bed, feeling grimy and disoriented. I found the shack to be pretty much a wreck, but hikers had obviously been here and left whatever they no longer needed. A half-open bottle of water, a can of pinto beans and matches. Matches! I would need those, I was sure. I almost wept with joy when I found a can opener in a red plastic basket on the floor. I ripped into the can, spooning beans into my mouth with my fingers.
“Here, try some of this.”
I almost fell on the floor with fright. It was a young man. A handsome young Asian man. I’d never seen anyone quite so lovely, despite his unkempt appearance. How had he managed come into the cabin without my knowing? I stood there with bean juice dripping down my chin and he gave me a sad, sympathetic smile, handing me a stone plate with raw salmon sliced on it.
“Take it.” He leaned against the wall, watching me eat. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay when you came in here last night.”
I stared at him. His voice was different. Strange. I said nothing and finished the fish very fast.
“I saw your…” He held up his hand indicating my airborne display the previous day. “That was something.”
“Yeah…something.”
“Have some water…it’s fresh.” He indicated the half-full bottle. He smiled when I uncapped it and drank. “You like grapes?” On my nod, he laughed. “Come, I’ll show you my secrets.”
His name was Zoshi and he came from Hokkaido, he told me. He showed me the island, his island, sharing with me his favorite spots to find grapes, plums and cherries.
“The river is just choked with salmon. It’s one of the last pristine salmon spawning grounds in the world.” He grinned. “Just don’t get in the bears’ way when they are hungry.”
We were able to catch the salmon with our bare hands, Zoshi gutting them easily with a penknife.
I had so many questions. “Where am I?” I asked him.
“Don’t you know?” When I shook my head, he fell silent for a while and seemed ready to run off. “You’re on Kunashir. It means Black Island in the native tongue of my people.”
“The Japanese people?”
He shook his head. “The Ainu. They are an indigenous people to northern Japan and to Hokkaido in particular.” He paused. “These islands, the Kuril Islands, were used by the Russians as a base camp during World War Two and they have been a matter of dispute between the two countries ever since.” He squinted at me and I felt he was having trouble seeing me. “You’re not Russian.”
“No, Hawaiian.”
He shrugged. “For years, the Russians have used this island as a place of…banishment for outlaws and criminals.” The words remained an ugly accusation between us.
“Japan, too?” I asked.
He nodded and I saw the pain of his infinite shame. “Oh yes…Japan, too.”
Zoshi led me back to the cabin to a portable toilet in the rear. It smelled terrible, but I didn’t care. I needed relief and soon, we were off walking again, exploring the boiling lake of the still active volcano, low lying lakes and unusual birds, which he told me were rare and endangered.
“This island is a refuge to them as well. Look, it’s a Blakistan Fish Owl,” he whispered as a huge, majestic bird soared over us. I couldn’t get over the size of it. It was the size of a small pony. “They’re the largest predatory birds in the world.”
Zoshi watched it with a mixture of fear and respect. When another huge downpour came, we took refuge under a huge coltsfoot leaf that felt like the most beautiful umbrella in the world. We were so close together and his breath on my skin so tantalizing, I wanted to touch him. I felt his breath stop. He could feel the rising fire between us, but he shook his head.
“We can’t.”
I didn’t say anything.
For two days it was like this, hours and hours spent together, bathing in pools, stealing looks at one another’s bodies, catching fish, eating whatever we could find and, at night, he would leave me, insisting I sleep in the cabin. A terrible sound woke me on the third night and I ran outside, my eyes well used to the darkness now and I was shocked to see one of those big owls tangling with a large, furry cat.
The hissing, spitting cat however, looked suspiciously like…Zoshi.
I fought off the owl and a weeping, bleeding Zoshi allowed me to carry him into the cabin. I cleaned him up as best I could, finding chunks of fur coming away in my fingers. I remembered the fur from my first night here. I calmed him and lay beside him as he told me of the curse placed on him by his people because he was gay and that in his culture, this was simply taboo.
“They said nobody would ever love me…tell me, who cursed you?” he asked me and, in the darkness, I bled out verbally, telling him everything. At dawn, he was back in his human body and he hid his face from me.
“Don’t. You saved my life on this island,” I told him and I moved my body over his. He was strong and slim, his muscular body hard under the ragged clothing he wore. He struggled with me for a few minutes, but his need was great, as great as his desire.
He allowed me to kiss him and we explored one another’s mouths and faces as outside, a crack of thunder could be heard. Voices…somebody was coming to the cabin. A streak of vicious lightning flew right through the window and Zoshi and I hurled ourselves onto the floor as the bed went up in flames. We ran from the room as two rangers stood, shocked and we flew right past them.
“Jesus,” one of them muttered. “Fire!”
Zoshi and I found shelter under our coltsfoot again and he was bashful about resuming where we’d left off, but I wasn’t. I undressed him with the urgency of possible detection as the fire raged behind us. My mouth sought out the prize in his pants and Zoshi’s breath turned ragged as I sucked on his long and surprisingly thick cock. I brought him off with my mouth, his juices sweet from the high fruit diet. I let my tongue meander down to his balls and his ass and he almost screamed when he saw my cock.
“Oh, fuck me with that huge Hawaiian thing,” he crooned. His giddy grin turned into something else when I planted myself in him. He kept calling out God’s name as I kept a relentless pace in his ass. I did not stop until he had come in my hand and I had come in that hot little ass. For two days straight, we fucked, slept and ate. It was on the third night, in my arms, my cock buried inside his hungry ass that he made a discovery. He no longer became a cat man after dark.
“I can leave this island…I need know no more shame.” He was so happy I could only wish him good luck. He wanted to leave in the morning and return to his people.
“I’ve been here for so long, please understand.”
“How long?” I asked him.
“Six years.”
“I understand.” He broke my heart, wanting to leave me, but I felt true joy for him that his curse was lifted and, in the morning, he gave me his penknife and I watched him board the decrepit patrol boat. One of the rangers was loading two barrels of salmon onto it and I crouched in a thicket of bamboo, alone on my island, pondering my next move. I spent the afternoon inspecting the cabin. The fire damage was minimal, but the smoke damage was awful. I wande
red the island, not really hungry, not really not hungry.
I slept under the coltsfoot umbrella, dreaming about my beautiful Zoshi, grateful that I’d come to know him. In the morning, the sun burst through gray-white clouds and, as I waded through the river that met the Sea of Japan, I wondered how he was faring in Hokkaido.
“You scare the fish away like that.”
Man! He always managed to make me jump. I whirled around. “Zoshi, what are you doing here?”
“I came back for you.” He looked amazing. Hair trimmed, clean clothing. “Mahini, I can’t leave you. I can’t stay here either. You gave me love freely and so my curse is lifted. You let me leave freely. Your curse must be lifted, too.”
“You really think so?”
He nodded emphatically. “If not…I’ll make do. I don’t care where we live. I only want to be with you.” He reached out his hand and I saw the small boat behind him. I took his hand and felt the sun at its fullest in the sky as Zoshi led me by the hand to his boat and we stepped inside.
“You’re going to have to learn Japanese,” he warned me.
“For you, anything.”
He grinned and started the small outboard motor. I could not believe this was happening. And then Zoshi looked at me.
“When you say things like that, you should kiss me.”
I moved beside him, taking his dear, sweet face in my hands and kissing him.
“God, you got me hard,” he groaned. “How can I get us home if I’m so hard?”
“With me between your legs, you can do anything.” My fingers moved toward his zipper.
Zoshi laughed and it was the sound I’d waited for my whole life. It was music and sunshine and echoes of islands…islands in the time of my life.
HULA