"Difficult? How? I'm not asking you to fuck me. Well, I'd want to, but you don't sleep with men or women, do you? Letting me do this is the least you can do."
"That's not what I mean."
"Then I wish you'd just become impotent! You're cruel, you know that?"
Kuji's face was a mess of tears and snot as he continued to stimulate Song's hardened penis. He brought his face close to its glistening tip. When he opened his mouth to let it in, Song sat up. The man's muscular arms circled around him.
"Masatake, you're a good boy. Now, stop."
"No," Kuji shot back. "I want you! Let me touch you!" Kuji twisted his body and tried to pry the man's arms off of him to no avail. His head was pressed against Song's dripping, broad chest. He could feel the man's rapid heartbeat. Song's warm hands rubbed his back. Kuji broke into loud sobs.
"It's okay. You can cry, Masatake. There's no need for you to hold back." The man's low whisper was soothing to the ear.
Eventually, the storm of tumultuous emotions brewing inside him settled into a peaceful calm. His eyelids drooped. Kuji closed his eyes. A warm darkness came over him.
He felt himself float as his body was lifted. When he fidgeted, a comforting hand rubbed his back again.
"Masatake, you can stay asleep. I'll carry you to your room," said the gentle voice. His body swayed gently as if he were being rocked in a cradle.
Kuji returned to the same house - the one in which he had spent his boyhood.
　Outpost village*　　An outpost village, or hakenmura, is a makeshift shelter for the homeless set up temporarily from the end of the year to the beginning of the following year.
　Sou**　 　"Sou" is the Japanese pronunciation for the Chinese character of Song's name.
Chapter 4
"Sorry about yesterday. Getting drunk like that and not being able to play the organ."
The morning light was streaming into the small kitchen. Song wore his usual serene smile. He handed Kuji a mug of coffee.
"That's all right. But promise you'll play at their wedding instead?"
Kuji nodded and sipped his black coffee. He stole a sidelong glance at Song. The man was quietly drinking his own coffee as he read the newspaper.
"Hey, I'm going to go check out that guy's place. Asylum Net." He at least wanted to make up for the previous evening somehow.
Song put the paper down on the table and looked at him gravely.
"I don't want you to take a risk that you can't handle."
Kuji tilted his head in perplexity. The man almost sounded like Nango. Did Song know that he was an S?
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's true that we're concerned about that organization. But we don't necessarily want to take risks to pry into it. You don't like interacting with people much in the first place, do you, Masatake? There's also the fact that their facilities are in the entertainment district. I think you'd be in trouble if you ran into your old friends."
Kuji finally understood what Song was trying to get at.
"That's fine. I've told them I'm a NEET. It's true - I don't do anything other than play the organ. Besides, I'm pretty interested in that place. Not to mention I get to use the Internet as much as I want for free."
"If you say so," said Song as he studied Kuji. Kuji sensed something in his gaze that was searching, and turned his face aside. He slurped his coffee loudly.
Kuji put his cell phone in the pocket of his jumper and went outside.
Nango had told him to report not only about people that Song met with directly, but also people in which he showed interest. He could have contacted Nango before he set off, but he found it too much of a hassle. Nango would often call him first when they met at scheduled intervals. Kuji decided to wait for his call.
He had heard that Morimoto owned a few shelters, but mainly stayed at the one in Okubo and used it as his headquarters. Kuji decided to take the Oedo subway line to Shinjuku.
Kuji traced the address to headquarters, which turned out to be an old building close to the station. The surrounding multiple-tenant buildings were occupied by massage parlors, Internet cafes, and arcades. It was a place where the young might congregate.
Morimoto welcomed Kuji enthusiastically and spoke eloquently about his activities.
Here in the urban center, where redevelopment was underway, offices were beginning to occupy more area. Many tenants were leaving older buildings because they didn't have adequate facilities. Owners, however, did not have the financial means to rebuild the buildings on their own. Nor could they hope to sell the building while its value remained low. That was why they waited for others to swoop in with a proposal for large-scale redevelopment, and rented the buildings out at discount rates for the limited period of time until the redevelopment was to begin.
"There are a lot of buildings like that. And a lot of them are in front of the station, too. That's because locations near the station have potential for redevelopment."
"Uh-huh," Kuji responded unenthusiastically. Morimoto laughed.
"I guess you wouldn't really care about this stuff," he said.
At the shelter, such office spaces had been furnished with bunk beds and coin-operated lockers. There were convenience stores nearby which provided easy access to meals and everyday necessities.
Although it was hardly comparable to a stay at a hotel or traditional Japanese inn, this environment was sufficient enough for Internet cafe refugees. The only necessities they required were a simple shower and a computer.
Several computers were set up on a counter, in a manner similar to an Internet cafe.
"It's a cable connection, so people can use as much as they want. You can use it, too," Morimoto said to him. "Feel free to look for employment on the Internet."
Kuji was then shown to the basement boiler room, which had previously been used to store the steam boilers to heat the building. In the room there were several large laundry machines which were commonly seen in American housing complexes.
"These are for people who can't afford to put their clothes out for dry cleaning. If you ever feel like doing something," Morimoto offered, "would you be able to come in for about two hours each day to run the machines? The residents all put their laundry in a bag and bring them here. We charge a set fee per bag. All you have to do is put that laundry in the machine and run it through the wash cycle. After that, just throw it in the dryer."
Kuji almost burst out laughing. It was exactly what he used to do in jail.
"I won't be able to come in every day, but sure."
"That's great. It'll be a great help," said Morimoto with a genuine-looking smile. Kuji wondered with apprehension what Song could be worried about.
"I went," Kuji told Song during dinner. Song had stewed the leftover meat from the previous night with kimchi. He ladled the juices generously over the meat and rice in the bowl and handed it to Kuji.
"Isn't there anything you want to hear about it?" Kuji asked.
"Eat first. You must be hungry."
Kuji spooned the food into his mouth as he threw glances over at Song, who was sitting across from him.
"I searched up Emmaus on the computer at Morimoto's place."
"Why?"
"You're part of it, right?"
"No. I'm not affiliated with them," Song said, "but I agree with the spirit of what they do."
"And that Pierre guy you were talking about - he slept with women, right?"
"Yes, he's openly admitted that. Being open is very much something he would do. It's an honest and fearless way of living."
"If you look up to him so much, then it should be okay for you to sleep with women, too."
Song laughed and paused from his meal.
"I do respect Reverend Pierre, but this and that are two different things. His political influence and achievements are admirable, and he is very devout. But I want to do things my own way."
Kuji stopped talking and focused on bringing
food to his mouth. He ate for a while, then looked up again from his bowl.
"You mean both for sex and for charity activities?"
"I guess you can say that. After all, both are based on personal feelings."
Kuji looked steadily into Song's eyes. "I remember you saying that before. So it's not your thing to appeal to the government?"
"No, actually. I don't trust the government or the nation. That's why I can't commit myself completely to those activities like Reverend Pierre does. That's why I'm not qualified to be a part of Emmaus."
"What...?"
He had never heard such negative words come out of Song's mouth before. Song's faraway eyes looked like those of someone he knew. Yes, the person he always saw in the mirror-
"Does that..." He couldn't find the words to follow. Kuji put his spoon in his bowl and looked down. "Does that have to do with your country?"
"It might, it might not. How about you, Masatake? Do you trust your country and government?"
Kuji kept his eyes down as he shook his head. "Who would? Not with the state this country's in."
"I see. Well, I think so, too. That's why I've decided to believe in the kingdom of God. In the kingdom of God, everyone is equal. Everyone will lend a hand to the weak. So that's why I thought of doing the same in this world."
Usually, Kuji would scoff inwardly and call him fake, but instead, he murmured, "I see."
Kuji knew little about the country from which the man came. He also did not know why it was divided into the north and south. He knew none of these things, even though the country was so close.
"Where were you born?" Kuji asked as he raised his head.
"Cheon-wang."
"Huh?"
"It's a small village that no one probably knows about. I don't think you'd be able to find it on Google Earth or even on the map." Song smiled. Kuji felt a sense of ease at the familiar expression on his face.
"I guess I don't know anything about you, huh?"
"That's because you don't ask, Masatake. I'd be glad to tell you anything if I asked."
"Have you slept with anyone before?"
"That question's not allowed." Song reached out and pressed his index finger against Kuji's lips. Before Kuji could swallow the saliva in his mouth, Song drew his hand away.
"Masatake, any seconds? You should eat more."
Kuji thought about Song while Nango penetrated him. He remembered the man's fingers pressed against his lips. Once, back when he had been learning piano from Song in juvenile, they had played a duet together. Kuji had played the left hand part and Song, the right hand.
The man had thick, rugged, and strong fingers. They were noticeably long, especially after the first knuckle. His nails were trimmed short, free of dirt, and were pink. Occasionally Kuji's right hand would cross with his, come away, then draw near again.
Kuji had gotten an erection while he played.
Those fingers. He imagined curling his tongue around those fingers that had pressed against his lips. He would open wide, entwine his tongue around them, and graze them with his teeth.
Meanwhile, he would put his own fingers into Song's mouth. Two of them. He wanted Song to lick his fingers, too.
"Masatake, your fingers are so slender and beautiful." That was how Song had complimented him when they played the duet.
"So are yours," Kuji had muttered, his face beet-red.
Yes. If Song wouldn't give him his penis, his fingers would do. He wanted Song to knead his hole with those long fingers. To carve out his insides vigorously. He didn't mind if it bled. With those fingers, Song would probably be able to reach in very far. He wanted the man to delve his fingers deep into his intestines, to drag out his organs, and kill him. To fuck him to death.
A hot, throbbing wave burst out of him. The tip of his penis trembled as the white liquid came out in a continuous spurt. Kuji was almost exasperated at how deprived of pleasure he had apparently been. He was overcome with dizziness as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.
"Nnh——ah—ah—!" he moaned in loud, short bursts.
"Wow, you're honest today, huh? You always avoid making noise," he heard Nango's voice over his shoulder, tinged with amused contempt. "Thanks for moaning so sweetly like that. My cock is that good, huh?"
As if, Kuji thought internally as he gritted his teeth.
He felt the man's weight bear down upon his back. The man's hands, which had been on his buttocks, came around to the front.
"You're hard again already. Really in the mood today, aren't you?"
Nango suddenly burst into raucous laughter.
"I know. You must be thinking about Song."
"No," Kuji ground out, but Nango continued to laugh loudly.
"You clenched the moment you heard his name. Your body doesn't lie. You're fantasizing about his cock being inside you, aren't you?"
Kuji shook his head in protest.
"Whatever," the man said as he began to thrust vigorously in and out of him. Kuji's buttocks were spread open wide as he was rammed by the man's boulder-like member. His hip joints ached as his legs were spread as widely as they would allow. His knees buckled, and he ended up splayed on his stomach like a frog.
"So? Does Song fuck you? Huh?"
As much as Kuji wanted to say no, the pressure on his chest made it hard for him to speak. He was yanked over and flipped onto his back. Nango clenched his ankles.
"Answer me, fag."
The man raised Kuji's legs high, then folded them over so that he was almost folded double on his back.
Nango's face drew closer.Kuji screwed his eyes shut.
His whole body ached. Especially his hamstrings.
The pain was his fault, for thinking of unnecessary things. You brought this upon yourself, Kuji reprimanded himself internally as he sat up on the bed.
Nango, as always, was sitting at the table checking Kuji's phone. He inserted the memory chip into his own phone and opened the image file.
"Uh-huh," he grunted. "Song told you to keep a watch on this guy?"
"He didn't tell me to keep watch. He said that he wanted to know what he was up to. That's why I offered..."
Nango gave him an exasperated look. "Are you Song's S, now? Don't stick your nose in things you don't need to."
"But you said so yourself. You told me to report whatever Song seems to take an interest in."
"Whatever," Nango dismissed as he put the cell phone away. "We'll look this guy up. So, what exactly about this guy bothers Song?"
"I don't know."
"Fine, whatever," Nango said again as he stood up.
"Nango, I want to ask you something."
"What?"
"Who is Song, really?"
"That's none of your business." Nango suddenly approached the bed and grabbed at Kuji's groin. He clamped his hand around Kuji's balls and twisted them hard. Kuji screamed in pain and collapsed on the bed.
"See? This is what you get when you ask stupid things. Even worse, it'll cost you your life. It's for your own good that you don't know."
Kuji was writhing in pain, but nevertheless looked up at Nango with tear-filled eyes.
"Cheon...wang..."
"What?"
"Song said... Cheon-wang. Said... he was born... there."
Nango knitted his brow thoughtfully. "That was pretty clumsy of him to give that away. Not like him at all."
Nango went back to the table and sat back down in the chair. He pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and put it in his mouth.
"Or did he trust you that much?" He let out a slow puff of smoke. "Cheon-wang is a village in the North. It's close to the border with China."
"North...? Is that... a problem?" Kuji asked as he massaged his balls, trying to distract himself from the pain. Nango gave him a look that said, "Don't be stupid." But he soon shrugged and took a long drag.
"Well, I guess even an S for Public Safety wouldn't necessarily be well-versed in international
affairs. An idiot like you probably wouldn't read the paper, either. Maybe that's what makes you an ideal S. All you guys have to do is carry out what you've been ordered to do. When you start having your own thoughts is when you start sticking your nose into things that are none of your business."
Nango ground his cigarette butt in the ash tray as he stood up and approached Kuji again. When Kuji looked at him in fear, he grinned, reached out, and ruffled his hair.
"We think he's a sleeper for the North. Eventually someone is bound to appear who will make contact with him. Be a good boy and stick with him until it happens. Don't sleep with him, though. You've got the hots for him and you'd probably blabber everything in bed. You'd be the one to get caught in the honey trap. That's all the more reason why it's best for you not to know."
"He won't," Kuji blurted out without thinking.
"What?"
"He won't sleep with me."
"That's too bad. You'd want him to fuck you, wouldn't you?" Nango ran his large hand from Kuji's head to his chin and gripped it like a vice.
"But you're my S. You remember that."
The fingers stopped on the keys, and the last chord faded along with the singing voices.
"Thank you," a man's happy voice said in clumsy Japanese. Song's low voice followed.
"Let's decide on a date for your ceremony, then. Hmm, you said your witness would be a friend of yours? And the people attending your wedding would be..."
Kuji closed the lid on the organ as he listened to the voices behind him. He disguised the pain he felt in his joints as he quietly retreated to the kitchen.
Song returned as Kuji was having a drink of water. He still had his surplice on over his vestments as he approached Kuji and peered down at him with a worried look.
"Masatake, has someone done something bad to you? You look like you're in pain."
"Not really," Kuji said shortly as he shrank away. "Today's guy was just a little on the kinky side, that's all."
Song's thick eyebrows remained drawn together.
Amazing Grace Page 4