“See? You’re full of love water.”
Misao’s wet eyes held back a torrent of tears.
Chapter 5
Rain fell in a steady drizzle.
It was eight in the evening. The hour of feasting.
The servants carried the emptied trays from the room and put them in the hall. Everything but the wine was practically untouched. It was always like that in Katsuragi’s rooms, so it seemed ridiculous to Misao that they should keep bothering to make hors d’oeuvres for him. Once the majority of the cleaning was done in the tea room, Misao entered the adjacent room.
It was Seno’o’s bedroom. There was no one in it right now. Silence had also returned to the room behind him, its doors flung wide.
While the monitors on the second floor were getting the rooms ready, the girls and customers were absent for a short time. The girls had gone to fix their makeup and the men had mostly gone to the washroom.
A high quality, soft futon was piled up proudly in a corner. It had an almost poisonously vibrant design and color. Misao was on his hands and knees, smoothing the wrinkles out of it.
Then his hand stopped.
His body was immediately rocked to its core and his heart began pounding restlessly.
No. He couldn’t think about it.
It would hurt too badly.
He tried to break off the train of thought somehow, but it didn’t go well. Work that had been so easy to do only a moment before became difficult.
He clung to the futon, balling it in his fists.
“I saw that man of yours at the bathroom.”
Suddenly, Katsuragi’s voice came from behind him. Misao spun around in shock. The pounding of his heart broke into a different sort of race.
“How long have you been there?”
Katsuragi feigned ignorance and stood just inside the room. On reflection, Misao saw that Katsuragi was standing directly behind him. He was fanning himself with a single sheet of long, thin paper. He aimed it at Misao and flicked it through the air at him.
It fluttered down beside him. Misao looked down at it skeptically. When he picked it up, he saw it was a check. The number 640 was written in the amount field. The amount was so large he couldn’t be shocked by it. It was just a piece of paper.
“I don’t know if he’s just that honest or what, but he really did pay me double.”
Katsuragi sounded surprised.
Misao looked up at him: he had no idea what Katsuragi was talking about. Then he realized. His eyes shot back to the check. He checked the amount very carefully.
It was exactly double the amount that Katsuragi said he had paid to make Misao up like a courtesan.
He raised his wide-eyed stare to Katsuragi and hesitantly asked, “Did Masaomi?”
“I don’t know his name.”
Katsuragi snorted derisively and Misao shot to his feet. “Hold it! Are you actually planning to take this money? You have to give it back! I’ll be in trouble otherwise.”
“You’ll be in trouble?” Katsuragi parroted tauntingly. Then he came over and sat down on the exquisite bedding that Misao had laid out and smirked. “I never thought I’d hear you talk to me like that.”
“Quit it. I mean it.”
Misao put his hands on the bedding and bent forward. He was begging. But Katsuragi knocked him over.
“What?”
For a moment, Misao didn’t know what had happened.
Just before his back hit the floor, Katsuragi caught at his collar and tore one side of his kimono open.
Misao’s eyes were wide, searching Katsuragi’s face as Katsuragi knelt over him.
A wet pain ran up his neck, raising goosebumps on his entire body.
He tried to scream, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat and only the smallest sound made it out.
He shoved back against the powerful chest, fighting back at random, but the man hanging over him didn’t even flinch.
His teeth clattered, making a terrible noise.
He turned his face all the way to the side, burying it in the bedding, and shoved at Katsuragi with all his might. But his hands met no resistance and only flailed through empty space.
The weight that had pressed down on his body was gone.
He pulled his kimono closed again and sat up. He scooted back. It had been only a few brief moments, but his breathing was labored, as if he had just sprinted half a mile. In contrast, Katsuragi sat across from him looking perfectly calm, as if nothing at all had happened. He lay on his side, his head propped up on one elbow.
“I hope you die,” Misao spat at him through ragged breaths.
Katsuragi’s lips only twisted slightly and he rolled onto his back on the futon. He had no remorse at all. He folded an arm behind his head as a pillow, then moved onto his side, looking up at Misao at an angle. He seemed completely at his ease.
“You’ve been almost crossing the line the last couple of days. But if you don’t want to get hurt, you’d better remember your place.”
Katsuragi sounded almost bored. Misao glared at him. His body was still tense.
“You’ve really lost your touch with the customers. Not that you’re a lost cause. When you fight back so desperately like that, it really turns a guy on.”
Misao knew that he was implicitly commenting on the fact that he’d been with a man.
His lips trembled in humiliation and he pressed them tightly together.
Misao had known it all along.
He couldn’t play these erotic games with people anymore. It was too frightening.
Katsuragi jerked his chin at the wrinkled check that still lay atop the bedding.
“You can have that money.”
“What?”
Misao frowned dubiously. He wondered what else Katsuragi had up his sleeve.
Apparently his suspicions showed on his face. Katsuragi laughed at the frown on his face.
“You’re no fun. Why can’t you just believe me?”
“Whose fault is that?” Misao muttered back.
“Who knows.”
Katsuragi rolled onto his back and folded both arms behind his head.
“Think of it like my admission fee, for you showing me things I would never usually see at a brothel. Then you can do what you want with the money. Buy yourself clean, give it back to that man, or whatever.”
Katsuragi spoke quietly, looking up at the ceiling.
It didn’t seem like a joke or some cruel trick.
Misao let out a soft sigh. Finally, a bit of tension was released from his tight body.
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”
Misao spoke the truth.
“I told you.” Katsuragi turned his head slightly toward Misao and smiled. “I only pay for things that entertain me.”
“How refreshing.”
Misao shook his head.
“So what’s it going to be? You want the money or not?”
Katsuragi was pushing the choice on him.
Of course, Misao wanted to give the money back to Masaomi. But he hadn’t seen him since last night, when Kazushi told him Masaomi had made an offer to Ukigumo. Misao doubted he would ever see him again. Misao had acted shamefully in front of him. He’d heard Masaomi was coming to the tea house again that night, but when it came time to prepare Ukigumo’s room, Kazushi had kindly offered to go in Misao’s place.
Misao’s eyes rested on the check, conflicted.
“I want you... to return it to him.”
The emptiness of his hopes showed in his voice.
Katsuragi snorted and glanced at Misao.
“You think I’d do something that nice?”
He offered this predictable response with a deeply shocked expression.
“I didn’t think so,” Misao answered bitterly. His fingers still hesitant, Misao picked up the check. He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t so much money that he had to think about it. He had to return it.
Decided, he strode from the bedroom into the te
a room. His feet wanted to run, but he reconsidered it. He turned back to the room. Katsuragi was staring up at the ceiling as lazily as ever. He seemed to have lost all interest in Misao, and Misao briefly wondered whether to say it or not. Part of him was reluctant to say it. But he decided to tell him anyway. It was simple politeness.
“Thank you.”
When he heard that, Katsuragi scowled horribly, so Misao was reassured that he had made the right choice.
He ran down the checkerboard complex of hallways, looking this way and that. At this hour, the halls were filled with rushing servants carrying bedding and it was hard to get through.
“Kazushi!”
Misao spotted the back of the person he was looking for through the crowd and called out to him. He must have just finished preparing a room, because he wasn’t doing anything. As Misao ran up to him, he asked, “Is Ukigumo’s room ready?”
Kazushi looked a little surprised. Then his face turned serious and he shook his head.
“It’s done, but Master Towa’s not going there tonight.”
“What?”
“A different customer is using Ukigumo’s room, so she’s using the servants’ room tonight. The Cherry Room,” Kazushi explained, staring straight into Misao’s eyes. “But Ukigumo isn’t there right now. She’s fixing her makeup.”
Implied in Kazushi’s words was the suggestion that if he wanted to be alone with Masaomi, he still could. Misao frowned, feeling like he was missing something in Kazushi’s words.
“Did you talk to Masaomi?” Misao asked worriedly, and for several moments Kazushi seemed obviously confused by the question. But he soon had his usual look of quick comprehension again and arched his eyebrow at Misao.
“If you want me to wait on him for you, we’re going to have to have a talk. Can’t you even talk to him?”
He patted Misao on the back jokingly, then went by him.
“You’d better hurry!”
He tossed back one last stupid warning. It reminded him of the check and Misao ran down the hall again. It was such a terrifying amount of money it made him uncomfortable to hold onto it. What if he lost it? The thought chilled him. But when he arrived outside the Cherry Room, a different sort of fear filled his heart.
The door was open.
In the gap between two folding screens, Misao spotted Masaomi sitting, legs stretched out, on top of a decent quality futon. He was wearing a summer kimono. A lantern behind the screen shone on his downcast face.
There was something unbearably poignant about the sight.
Misao couldn’t speak. He only stood there for a long moment.
He had watched Masaomi for too long, he knew.
Masaomi glanced up, as if something had caught his attention. He looked vaguely surprised to see Misao and whispered his name.
While Misao’s eyes searched for something to look at, Masaomi walked out from behind the screens. Before Misao realized it, he was standing right in front of him. He let out a sigh of relief and smiled.
“I didn’t see you all night. I was worried something had happened.”
He put his arms around Misao’s shoulders without any hesitation and started to pull him inside the room, and Misao couldn’t resist. It was like trying to resist the force of gravity.
“I need to talk to you,” Masaomi said, waving Misao behind the screens.
Misao’s body became very still and his face tightened.
Would Masaomi force him to hear it from his own lips?
Why? The sad question billowed through his heart. Masaomi didn’t need to be that honest with him. That was just cruelty.
“I know.”
His voice was like air escaping.
It was pathetic.
Masaomi looked surprised. “What?”
When Misao didn’t answer, Masaomi sat down on the futon and drew Misao down beside him. His face was so close.
“What do you know?” he asked again, confused. Misao’s eyes dropped, unable to bear it.
“When will it be?”
His voice was hard.
Masaomi took a moment to think. “The sooner the better, I think.”
There was some hesitation in his answer. Masaomi cupped Misao’s cheek with his left hand. He turned Misao’s downcast face slightly and looked into his eyes.
“You don’t seem very happy about it.”
Masaomi sounded slightly apprehensive.
“Happy?”
A tremble ran through Misao’s lips and as he gazed at Masaomi’s face, so close to his own, his face contorted. He knew his expression was becoming accusatory.
How could he be happy about it?
“Misao?”
Masaomi looked troubled. Unable to bear the sight of him, Misao twisted his head away, pulling free of Masaomi’s hand.
He spotted an elegant-looking tassel in a corner of the bed.
Dark emotions swirled up to fill his heart. He was afraid he might spit out some horrible abuse at any moment.
He thought his heart cried out with despair alone, but how could that drive him to such depths?
He shouldn’t have come.
He should have surrendered to reality without ever seeing Masaomi again.
“Are you upset about something?”
Masaomi sounded bewildered.
Misao’s eyes hardened and he turned sharply to face him. How dare Masaomi ask him that? Masaomi had been caught completely off-guard. Misao opened his mouth to hurl an assault at him. But some small discretion still remained in a corner of his mind, telling him he had no right to do that. The cold logic forced Misao’s trembling lips shut again.
He turned away and hung his head.
Cautiously, Masaomi started to say something, but before he could get it out Misao pulled the check from his sleeve and held it out to him.
“Katsuragi says he doesn’t want it.”
His voice was hard. He raised his eyes from the check to Masaomi’s face. He was looking down at the check in Misao’s hands with loathing.
“Then you should have burned it,” Masaomi said with a cold evenness.
Misao felt as if his hand had been slapped away.
Katsuragi had told him he could return it, so Misao had begun to think of it like actual money. But unless someone cashed it, the check was just a piece of paper. Masaomi wouldn’t lose anything.
“Were you with him tonight?” Masaomi asked quietly. His face contained the exact displeasure that was in his voice. Misao felt like he was being attacked for something he had narrowly avoided, and he looked away.
“Even though you didn’t come to see me?”
After this accusation, Masaomi sighed and rested his hand over the check in Misao’s hand. He pushed it gently back towards Misao.
“I’m not sure this is enough to bring you back with me to Tokyo.”
His voice was earnest. Misao’s eyes widened. His mouth fell open at the same moment, but it took much longer before he managed to say something.
“What... did you say?”
When he finally did speak, his voice was rough.
“Why? I don’t understand. You’re supposed to spend tonight with Ukigumo! Aren’t you getting married?”
Misao exploded. Masaomi gaped, then his face slowly filled with anguish.
There was a brief silence, and finally he sighed.
“We’re not getting married.”
Masaomi’s voice melted away into the silence.
Misao’s eyes widened as he stared at him.
“But then why?”
His lips trembled.
His brain felt like it was bruised from a lack of oxygen.
“You’re going to keep her as your mistress?” Misao asked, despairing.
Masaomi looked as if he wanted to argue, but apparently thinking better of it, he closed his mouth as soon as he’d opened it.
Misao’s heart fluttered and his mind clouded.
“Noyou’re not like that!” he muttered derisively, but what w
as really in his heart? What did he really want? Reallywish for? His emotions had all gone astrayhe didn’t know anymore.
Agony clouded Masaomi’s brow.
“What did you think I was like?” he asked, his voice controlled.
Misao squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He pushed a hand against his temple and hung his head.
“Misao.”
Masaomi reached out to touch his shoulder and Misao almost knocked his hand away, but he sagged. Masaomi held him in his arms, steadying Misao against the tremors of his body. He buried his face in Masaomi’s robe. He felt the man’s warmth.
“No”
His throat was tight.
“Misao.”
Held in the man’s arms, hearing him speak his name, Misao pounded against his chest, just once.
“How could you?”
He squeezed a husky voice from his constricted throat.
How could he ever be expected to give up the warmth he felt in this man’s arms?
“You should have just told me that she was the only one you cared about.”
They heard a voice suddenly from the other side of the screens, and Misao stiffened. He lifted his head slightly. Masaomi was already gazing seriously in the same direction. He still held Misao in his arms, but not strongly enough to hold him back. Misao pulled petulantly away and turned angrily to the screen.
“You don’t need to look so innocent, Masaomi.”
Ukigumo came through the screens. She was wearing a nightgown.
Painfully aware of how very out of place he was, Misao started to stand up. But Ukigumo stopped him with a look. She sat formally on the edge of the bed. Then, without the slightest perturbation, she fixed her eyes on Masaomi with a purity like morning dew. Masaomi moved into a more formal position as well and looked back at her, as if awaiting orders.
Misao was perplexed by the extreme formality they treated each other with. They were nothing like a man and woman in bed together.
Nothing like a courtesan and one of her regular customers.
Misao held his breath, but Ukigumo paid him absolutely no attention. She fixed Masaomi with a cool regard and spoke calmly. “You should take good care of the things most precious to you. Don’t pay attention to anything else.”
A look of deep regret came over Masaomi’s face.
“Really, Masaomi.”
Love Water (Yaoi Novel) Page 11
