They rode the elevator to the second floor, to the room right in front of them with the nameplate Firenze.
The lock was stuck and it took Yuichi several tries before he could get it open. As soon as the door opened, the bright colors of the room leaped out at them. Yellow walls, an orange bedspread, a domed ceiling with a pseudo fresco painted on it. Despite the bright colors, nothing about it looked fresh.
As Mitsuyo entered, she reached back and shut the door. The heater was on high and the air was stuffy and she felt as if she was going to start sweating.
Yuichi strode over to the bed and tossed the key on top of it. The key didn’t bounce at all, but sank into the down comforter.
All they could hear was the heater. The room was less a silent place than one from which all other sounds had been sucked away.
“Kind of a gaudy room,” Mitsuyo said to Yuichi, who was still facing away from her. Yuichi turned around and suddenly came over to her.
It all happened in a flash. Mitsuyo had been standing there, arms dangling at her sides, when Yuichi grabbed her and held her tight. His hot breath grazed the back of her neck, his stiff penis pushing against her stomach. Through their clothes, they could feel the other’s heart beating. Mitsuyo wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. The tighter she held him the more she could feel his hard penis against her soft belly.
A room called Firenze, ¥4,800 for a short-time stay. A room in a love hotel that tried to have its own personality, but from which all sense of the personal had vanished.
“Promise you won’t laugh,” Mitsuyo murmured against Yuichi’s chest. He started to draw away, but she clung to him so he wouldn’t see her face.
“I’m going to tell you the truth, but you have to promise you won’t laugh,” Mitsuyo said. “I’m … I’m serious when I send out e-mails. Other people might just send them out to kill time … but I really wanted to meet somebody. This is sort of lame, huh? And kind of sad? … Go ahead and make fun of me. But don’t laugh at me, okay? If you do, I don’t know what I’ll …”
Yuichi was still holding on to her. She knew it was kind of a rash thing to say, but she felt she had to say it now or she’d never ever say it to anyone.
“Me, too,” Yuichi said. “I … was serious, too, about the e-mails.”
Mitsuyo, cheek pressed against him, heard his voice through his chest.
Water dripped in the bathroom, splashing against the tiles. It must have collected in the faucet and then gushed out. That was the only other sound she heard, besides the beating of his heart as she pressed her face up against him.
Yuichi suddenly moved and crushed his mouth on hers. A rough, hard kiss, his dry lips scraping her. He sucked at her lips, stuck his tongue inside her mouth. Clinging to his shirt, she held his tongue in her mouth. That burning hot tongue felt as if it were wrapped around her whole body.
She felt weak in the knees. Yuichi moved his tongue from her mouth to her ear, his hot breath reaching deep inside and exciting her.
He roughly pulled off her shirt, then her bra, and standing there she let him kiss her breasts. In front of her was the cheap love hotel bed, and she pictured herself sinking down, half naked, onto the down comforter.
He was rough, except for the gentle fingers that stroked her behind. Her body wanted it even rougher. Was she the violent one, or Yuichi? She couldn’t tell. It was as if she was simply manipulating Yuichi, using him to roughly, violently caress herself.
She was naked now, in front of this man. Under the too-bright fluorescent lights, she felt him stroke her thighs, grab her butt, and Mitsuyo felt that any minute now she would cry out.
Yuichi lightly lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. He almost tossed her on top of the comforter, then tore off his shirt and T-shirt. Yuichi’s hard chest crushed her breasts. Every time he moved, Mitsuyo’s nipples slipped across his skin.
Before she knew it she was lying facedown on the bed, sunk deep in the comforter, as if she were floating on air. Yuichi’s hot tongue traced a line down her spine. He stuck his knees between her legs and no matter how much she resisted, her legs opened wide.
She buried her face in the pillow, which smelled of detergent. All the strength drained away from her. Yuichi caressed her roughly, almost as if he were trying to break her. At the same time, he held on to her tightly, as if to repair the damage.
He destroyed her, repaired her, and repeated the process. Mitsuyo no longer knew if she’d gotten destroyed, or if she’d been destroyed from the very beginning. If it was Yuichi doing the breaking, she wanted him to break her even more violently. If her body was broken from the beginning, she wanted his gentle hands to restore her.
“I don’t need to see him ever again. Just this one time. This is just for today,” she murmured as he caressed her. She didn’t really feel this way, but she had to tell herself this, or else she couldn’t accept this shameless self, the one she’d never really seen before, the one writhing in ecstasy on the bed.
She heard the metallic sound as Yuichi undid his belt. She had no idea how long she’d been like this on the bed, but it seemed as if Yuichi had been caressing her for a long time. Fifteen minutes? Thirty minutes? No, it felt more like he’d been stroking her with his fingers, his hot body crushing her, for a whole night—or was it two?
She felt her body grow lighter. The bed creaked and the vibration made her head fall off the pillow. She opened her eyes and saw Yuichi standing there, naked.
She hadn’t been crying, but she saw Yuichi’s penis through a kind of haze. All the strength drained out of her; even moving her fingers seemed like too much trouble. He was gazing down at her totally nude body from above, but she felt no embarrassment at all. One of Yuichi’s knees came up beside her face. The mattress sank down and her face rolled over toward him. He cupped his large palm behind her head to support it, and Mitsuyo closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
Yuichi’s hand supporting her head was gentle, but the penis jabbing deep inside her mouth was brutal and relentless. Again she didn’t know if she was being treated gently, or roughly. Was she suffering? Or happy? As she clutched at the sheets over and over, she had no idea. She knew she must look like a total slut. And she detested Yuichi—and loved him—for forcing her to lick him like this.
She reached around and grabbed his butt. Her nails dug into his sweaty behind. Trying his best to stand the pain, Yuichi cried out. And Mitsuyo wanted to hear that voice more.
I really do want Mitsuyo to be happy.
I never call her onesan—older sister. But still inside me I feel like I might be calling her that.
We have a younger brother, and he calls her onesan. It’s weird to say he does it in my stead, but that’s what it feels like. Me he just calls Tamayo.
People often say twins know what the other one is thinking. But Mitsuyo and I were never like that. Don’t get me wrong, we got along okay, and stood out in school, being twins and all. So when we were in elementary school we were always together, and tried to protect each other from our classmates’ curious eyes. Yeah—I think we did sort of stand out in elementary school. But once we entered junior high, another set of twins from a nearby elementary school came to the same school and they were ten times cuter than us. Kids can be really cruel, and it wasn’t long before we were being called the ugly twins. That didn’t bother me too much—if a boy said that, I’d chase him and hit him with a broom or something. About this time our personalities, you might say, the overall impression you got from us—hairstyle, clothes, interests—slowly started to be different from each other.…
We weren’t planning to go to the same high school. I wanted to go to a regular co-ed school, while Mitsuyo applied to a private girls’ high school, but she failed the entrance exam.
Anyway, soon after we started high school, we found boyfriends. Mine was typical—the star of the soccer team—but Mitsuyo went out with this guy named Ozawa who was not exactly a negative kind of guy, but he never seemed to b
e able to do anything well, neither school nor sports. He gave up on the volleyball team after only a month.
If Ozawa paid a bit more attention to his hairstyle and clothes he might have looked okay, but he had zero interest in that kind of thing. Not that he had any particular interest in anything else … Anyhow, when Mitsuyo said something about how she liked Ozawa I went like, Whoa! What’s with that? It was then, I guess, that I realized that Mitsuyo and I are two different people.
Since my boyfriend was the star of the soccer team, I had a lot of rivals for his attention, and sometimes things didn’t go so well. Mitsuyo and Ozawa, who didn’t have any competitors to deal with, got along better than me and my guy. They always walked home together, pushing their bikes side by side. Most every evening she’d stop by Ozawa’s house, but she’d be sure to be home by six-thirty, in time for dinner.
Even twins who get along well have things they can’t ask each other. School ended around four o’clock every day, and it took twenty minutes to walk to Ozawa’s house, so even if she rode her bike back home afterward, it means that they were alone, just the two of them, for about two hours and fifteen minutes every day. Rumors started about them at school and people starting asking me, not her, whether she and Ozawa had done it. As her younger sister I felt, intuitively, that she and Ozawa had, you know. I wanted to know for sure, but I couldn’t ask her straight out.
I remember it was just after the end of summer vacation. Mitsuyo was at Ozawa’s as usual, and my cheerleading squad’s practice was canceled that day so I went home early. We were sharing the same room and I’d never done a thing like that before, but something possessed me, I guess, and I opened Mitsuyo’s desk drawer and looked at the notebook Mitsuyo and Ozawa used to exchange notes. I was sure it would be totally boring. I was a little worried what I’d do if there was bad stuff written in there about me, but that’s about it.
I flipped through it and was surprised to find every page filled with tiny writing.
I read through it, nervous that Mitsuyo might come home. As I read, I felt a shiver up my spine.… Basically she said something like this:
“I’ve always liked you, Ozawa-kun. But recently I’ve started to like certain parts of you—your right arm, for instance, your ears, or your fingers, your knees, your front teeth, your breath. Not the whole of you, but parts that make up you. I don’t want anybody to take them away from me. At school and other places, I don’t want anybody else to see you. .”
I had always thought that Mitsuyo wasn’t the type to get attached to things. When we were little, she always gave me and our brother all of her candy or cakes. I guess that comes from being the oldest daughter. But in this diary that she and Ozawa exchanged, this was a Mitsuyo I’d never seen before.
Here are some other quotes: “Today Onotera from No. 2 class was talking to you about something, right? I found it funny how annoyed you looked.” “I can’t wait to graduate and live with you! We can live together, right? You know, that apartment we saw from the outside the other day looked really nice. You could park a car right outside when you buy one, and once we have kids they can play in the garden.” It sounded different from the usual Mitsuyo, more aggressive.
As I read more, I was thinking how Ozawa must find it kind of annoying. I got frightened and quickly stashed the notebook back in the drawer.
I’d always thought of Mitsuyo as an unselfish, disinterested person. But here I discovered a side I’d never seen before, her karma or something. Her hidden greed, I guess, and it made me feel sad, or sorry for her.
Anyhow, Mitsuyo and Ozawa broke up before they graduated from high school. Rumor had it that he started to like another girl who attended the after-school college prep course he was in. Mitsuyo never said a thing to me about it. And I never dared ask.… I don’t remember her getting all upset or crying when they broke up. Maybe she did cry, but off by herself.… Anyway, it was all a long time ago.
After we graduated from high school, there were really only two guys she went out with. Neither relationship lasted very long. Mitsuyo isn’t the type, like me, to play around with guys much. Sometimes I’ve wished she were a bit more outgoing. We’re living together now, but deep down I think sometimes I’m doing this all for her sake, not mine. Like if I got married, she’d be alone the rest of her life.
I really like my sister. She’s sort of introverted, but I do want her to be happy.
I don’t remember when it was, exactly, but I was on a bus and just happened to glance out and see Mitsuyo pedaling her bike with this very happy expression on her face. Now that I think about it, this was just about the time she started exchanging e-mails with Yuichi Shimizu.
Body temperature has a smell to it, Mitsuyo found. Just like smells can mix together, so can body temperatures.
When the phone rang signaling that their time was up, Yuichi was still on top of Mitsuyo. The thermostat was set too high in the love hotel and their bodies were glowing with a sheen of sweat. Yuichi had beautiful skin. His beautiful skin was covered with sweat as it penetrated Mitsuyo’s body.
Worried about the phone, Yuichi stopped moving for a moment and Mitsuyo called out, “Don’t stop!”
So he ignored the phone. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, but until then he continued to penetrate her.
“Okay, okay! We’re leaving!” Yuichi growled. As soon as he yelled out, he penetrated even deeper inside Mitsuyo and she bit her lip.
Fifteen minutes had passed since Yuichi said they’d be out soon. Holding his sweaty body under the blanket, Mitsuyo laughed, “Aren’t you hungry?”
His response, as he lay there panting, was to kick off the blanket.
“There’s a really good grilled-eel place nearby,” Mitsuyo said.
The blanket fell to the floor and the two of them, naked and clinging to each other, were reflected in the mirror next to them. Yuichi was the first to get up, the vertebrae of his back clearly reflected in the mirror.
“It’s an authentic eel place, they have grilled eel without sauce and everything.”
As Yuichi started to get out of bed, Mitsuyo grabbed his hand and pulled at it. “You want to go there?” she asked. Yuichi twisted around and looked at her for a while, and finally gave a small nod.
Mitsuyo got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “We don’t have time for that,” she heard Yuichi caution her.
“We’re already over the time limit and will have to pay extra,” she said.
It was a cute little bathroom with yellow tiles. I wish they had a window, Mitsuyo mused. She could picture a window and outside that a small garden, and Yuichi washing his car.
“After we have eel you better take me to the lighthouse!” Mitsuyo called out. There was no reply, but she went ahead and enjoyed a hot shower. It wasn’t even two o’clock yet. When she thought of the long weekend ahead, the hot water splashing on her seemed like it was singing and dancing for joy.
“If we don’t have time, why don’t we take a shower together?” Mitsuyo shouted out to Yuichi over the sound of the water.
“Is Yuichi Shimizu your real name?”
Staring straight ahead, Yuichi nodded.
They’d left the love hotel and were in the car heading toward the eel restaurant. Mitsuyo was still warm from the shower.
“Well, then I have to apologize. My name is Mitsuyo Magome. I was using Shiori because—”
“It’s okay,” Yuichi interrupted her. “Everyone uses fake names at first.”
“Everyone? You mean you’ve met that many girls like this?”
The road was empty of other cars and they didn’t get stopped by traffic lights. Every time they approached a traffic light it turned green.
“Well, that’s okay.”
Since Yuichi didn’t respond, Mitsuyo withdrew her question.
“This is the same road I used to use to go to high school,” Mitsuyo said as she gazed at the passing scenery.
“See that sign for the discount shoe place over there?
If you turn there and go straight, there’s our high school, in the middle of a bunch of fields. And if you go back on this road toward the station there’s my old elementary and junior high schools.… And a bit further down this road toward Tosu is where I used to work.… I guess I’ve never really left this road, have I.… All I’ve done is go back and forth along this one road all my life.… That place I used to work at was a factory for food products. All the other girls my age said it was monotonous work and they hated it, but I didn’t mind that kind of production-line work.”
Their car was stopped at a rare red light and Yuichi, stroking the steering wheel, turned toward Mitsuyo.
“It’s the same with me,” he murmured. Mitsuyo inclined her head, at first not knowing what he was talking about, and he went on. “I’ve always stayed close to home. All the schools I went to—elementary, junior, and senior high—are all just down the road from my house.”
“But you live near the sea, right? I envy you. I mean, look where I live.”
The light changed and Yuichi slowly accelerated. Mitsuyo’s hometown, a dreary succession of stores along the road, flowed by.
“Oh, there it is! You see the eel-shaped sign? It really is good, and pretty cheap, too.”
She was starving. She hadn’t felt this hungry in ages.
During the morning Keigo Masuo slipped out of the sauna, trying not to be noticed.
He’d wanted to sleep in the nap room until past noon, but as the number of visitors declined, he was afraid the staff might start to notice him. He couldn’t believe that a “Wanted” flyer with his photo on it had made its way all the way to this sauna in Nagoya, but still, when he’d gotten the locker key from the guy at the front desk a while ago, he could swear the man gave him a strange look.
Numb from lack of sleep, Keigo came out onto the street, and the combination of the bright winter sky and the fact that he’d been in a darkened room hit him, and he stood there for a moment, dizzy in the light.
He headed off in the direction of Nagoya Station, checking how much he had in his wallet. He’d withdrawn five hundred thousand yen when he left Fukuoka, so he should still be all right, but he couldn’t very well use his ATM card where he’d run to, so the cash he had on hand was his last resort.
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