by Unknown
[065]
He was holding something in his right hand. It was fat and black in the shape of a club. The light from the street lights reflected sharply off the object. It was a beer bottle. As he walked over, Takimoto brought the beer bottle down onto the steel railing that divided the road and the foot path. The bottle struck the metal and smashed. The liquid inside turned to white froth and poured out on to the pavement. He had turned the a bottle of beer into an threating weapon. The angles and curves formed by the splintered glass were both sharp and blunt. The tip of the bottle looked like it could rip someones cheek clean off.
Takimoto looked over at Saito with brazen eyes. He didn't look like he had came all this way to apologize.
“You were saying you're strong,” said Takimoto, his voice subdued. “Why don't you show me some moves.”
Saito had already taken a cat stance. His left leg was slightly forward and bent at the knee so that his toes were pointing towards the ground. He had most of his body weight resting on his right leg, which was placed further back and was slightly bent. He used his knees and elbow to get his body into a light fighting rhythm. The edge of his left hand was at the same level as his shoulder and was sticking out, but he didn't have his arm stretched out flat. He balled his right hand up into a fist and held it close to his chest. It was a fighting stance used for fights outside of a Dojo. Takimoto kept walking towards Saito, completely undeterred. He didn't even slow down.
Kijima stayed still. Bunshichi was just standing there as well. Strangely enough, he didn't feel the urge to jump in. It wasn't simply because Saito had started the fight himself and it had nothing to do with Bunshichi.
No, it was because Bunshichi wanted to see how Saito would handle a thug. He thought that if Kijima made a move, then he would as well. But if Kijima didn't make a move, then neither would he. That's what Bunshichi had decided.
Saito darted to the side as Takimoto approached him. He immediately regained his cat stance. Takimoto changed course and continued to walk towards Saito. Saito was moving his left knee up an down to keep his body in a fighting rhythm. Takimoto had lowered his back slightly as well. His eyes were getting more and more narrow. He thrust the broken bottle in front of himself, aiming for Saito's face. Saito kicked up his left leg. He had been given an invitation.
When Saito's foot reached the spot where Takimoto's right hand should have been, Saito found that it had moved out of the way. He wasn't aiming for Saito's face. He was aiming for Saito's left foot and left knee, which still wasn't fully stretched out. Takimoto rammed the broken bottle into Saito's left knee cap as hard as he could. It made a horrible cracking sound as the glass broke. Saito let out a cry at the same time. Takimoto had been aiming for Saito's knee from the start. Saito grabbed his knee and fell back on the asphalt. Takimoto sunk his foot into Saito's stomach.
“Hey Karate kid, what's wrong?” Takimoto taunted. Saito spat at the ground. Bunshichi was stunned. He knew first hand how strong Saito was. And now he was getting beaten by a petty thug right before his eyes. He couldn't believe it.
[066]
Bunshichi wanted to save Saito, but his body wouldn't move. He didn't want to see Saito getting beaten like this. He wanted to see Saito make a counter attack and knock the thug over.
“Tanba!” Saito called out. His voice was asking why Bunshichi wouldn't help. Bunshichi didn't move. He looked over to Kijima. Kijima showed no emotion as he watched his friend attack Saito.
“Fucking prick...,” said Takimoto, his voice ringing in Saito's ears. Saito grabbed Takimoto's leg as it hit and held it to his stomach. Saito looked desperate. He used his right leg to knock the gangster off his feet; he had one foot in his hand and kicked the other leg out. Takimoto fell backwards on the asphalt. The back of his head hit the asphalt with a thud. His jagged glass weapon fell from his hands. Saito them straddled Takimoto, who had at this point gotten a concussion.
Saito started punching Takimoto in the face. The were normal, fist-fight punches. When it came down the sheer strength, Saito had the upper hand. Saito lessened his attacks a little. He had let his guard down. Bunshichi was watching so Saito had wanted to win this fight using proper Karate techniques. Bunshichi could now see that Saito had intended to get Takimoto to the ground with a single attack.
It wasn't just that his opponent was used to fighting. It was a mixture of skill, luck and him letting his guard down. Saito had taken the initiative and struck back, but he had completely forgotten his Karate.
[067]
He was just pummeling his opponents face with his fists. His punches fell from just below his shoulders. Blood came flowing from his opponents face. Takimoto's face was getting drenched in blood. Bunshichi was watching the spectacle from the side.
Kijima's expression hadn't changed. He was a strange guy. It seemed like he had no intention of getting involved in a fight that had nothing to do with him. Halfway through the fight, two cars drove past. It hadn't even been three minutes since the fight started.
“Shit,” Takimoto gasped. He shoved his right hand into his blazer. “You little shit!” His right hand moved. A beam of reflected light from the metal went straight up from beneath Saito's chin and knocked him to the side. Bunshichi saw it. Once the metallic beam of light was pulled out/removed, a spray of dark came out from just below Saito's chin. It was like he had a mouth-full and was spitting it all out. There was thick spray, as thick as your fingers and a mist like spray that all came out together. The liquid poured down on Takimoto's face. All the liquid started to form a pool around his head and started to flow onto the asphalt of the road.
The spray died down quickly. The last of the liquid built up on the opening of the wound in time with the final beat of his heart. Saito stopped moving. Bunshichi cocked his head to the side. Bunshichi's eyes looked as though they wanted ask what had happened, as he couldn't comprehend the situation. His mouth was open.
[068]
Bubbles of blood rose up from between Saito's lips. Saito's eyes became distant. He fell face-down on top of Takimoto.
A horrid smell wafted into Bunshichi's nose. It was the smell of blood. Bunshichi's legs were trembling. Fear came from the soles of his feet and raced through his entire body. He couldn't he was speechless. After a little while it seemed that something was going to come forth from his lips. Bunshichi knew that it would be a scream. He knew that if he were to scream, it makes things a little easier to handle. But no sound left his mouth. It was as if the scream itself had gotten caught in his throat.
Takimoto crawled out from under Saito's body. He was gripping a blood stained knife in his right hand. Takimoto looked around as he was about to get up. Bunshichi was the only one left. Kijima had gotten himself out of there at some point. Takimoto got up. His face and his hair were both covered in blood. Droplets of blood dripped from his matted hair. He glared at Bunshichi.
“You wanna wind up like this?!” he barked. Bunshichi wanted to run. But he felt like that as soon as he made a move he would end up on the ground. He had pissed himself. His crotch felt warm.
I've got to get out of here, he thought to himself. He wanted to run away, go home and forget about everything that had happened. He wanted to jump into his futon and go to sleep. He would never even think about learning Karate again. But he didn't know which way he should run. He was panicking. He turned forward and took a look at the man. He had his lips curled up over his blood stained teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. His throat exploded. A spirit-like scream came from his lips. It wasn't a scream. It was a howl.
He ran. Bunshichi's fate from then on was to be decided by the path he ran down. Bunshichi quickly looked back at the man who had stared at him with those horrible eyes as he ran from the scene.
CHAPTER II
[069]
The room was dark. Dark, but not pitch-black.
[070]
A man was lying on his back, and the woman next to him was lying on her side, resting her head on his shoulder and moving
her hand around in circles on his chest. The sheets came up to their waists. The woman was half draped over the man, her right breast was sitting on the man's upper left chest. Her complexion was fairer than most. He had the same skin tone as she did. It wasn't only their skin. Both had long hair that fell down to their shoulders. The man had a strange smile on his face. At a glance, they looked like two women sleeping.
However you could quickly tell that one of them was a man by his defined shoulders and arms. His chest rolled with clearly defined chest muscles. The woman had her eyes closed but the man had his open as he lay on his back. Tsutomu Himekawa. That was his name.
Himekawa wasn't staring at the ceiling, it was as if he was staring at something far off in the distance. You couldn't see it because of the sheets, but the woman's right leg was curled over his left leg. She was lightly rubbing her leg against his. She looked to be around 20 years old. She opened her eyes. She had big, wide eyes. She opened her mouth to talk, even though her lips were still resting on Himekawa's chest. It was like she was about to whisper to his heart.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked. It's a line that women use to get silent men to tell them what's on their minds. Himekawa didn't answer. “What are you thinking about?” she asked again.
[071]
“I'm not thinking about women,” said Himekawa.
“So you're thinking about men?”
“Yeah.”
“Who? Who's the guy?”
“Bunshichi Tanba.” The woman next to him got a sudden rush of nerves as soon as Himekawa had said the name. “I was thinking about the man who beat up your father.”
“...”
“He's a strange one.” The right hand that was resting on Himekawa's chest slowly made it's way down his body. Up and over his chest and underneath the sheets. Those white fingers found what they were looking for. They started touching him.
“You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?” she asked.
“I've already made plans.”
“Oh yeah, that's right.” she said before running her teeth over his nipple.
“Everyone involved will start wanting to know more information and all the details of what's been going on.”
“...”
“Mr. Izumi has gotten back on his feet, so he will probably be fine,” said Himekawa, the woman looked up at his face as he spoke. Himekawa had deep, brooding eyes.
“Well I'm not fine,” she said. “I wonder how long I can hold on for.” she continued with a smirk.
“......”
[072]
“You're the one that made me like this,” she said, the movements from under the bed sheet started to get faster. Himekawa gave a bitter smile. He probably wasn't the one who made her a woman. Two months ago when he first slept with her, Saeko Izumi, he knew that she was no stranger to men. When he entered her for the first time, she raised her hips as she raised her voice.
What Saeko was trying to say was that she only became the kind of woman that would reach out and grab a man all on her own since she had been with Himekawa. Talking dirty halfway through the act, and holding her mouth closed when Himekawa got going. Himekawa had made the first move, but it had was Saeko that had seduced Himekawa. Walking around the house in her nightie, asking Himekawa to bring her soap when she was taking a bath.
Both were fine with it. Himekawa was fine with her as his lover for the time being. It wasn't because she was the daughter of a martial artist, but because she had a tight, voluptuous body. She could take on any kind of might with her supple limbs. She was quick to learn the arts of the bedroom. Her face and figure were much better than average. She had the kind of beauty that made her look a little dangerous.
For Himekawa, who's only redeeming feature was his strength, it was a complete mystery how he managed to bed this woman. It seemed she was less like her father and much more like her mother, who died around 10 years ago.
But the only thing on Himekawa's mind was Bunshichi. The man was like a cliff face. He had brought some strange kid along with him to the meeting point, and was waiting patiently in a pair of trainers.
[073]
He was big, but also knew how to keep his balance. He could tell just by remembering his muscles that his body made for full contact fighting. It was a mystery how he had never heard of his name until recently. He would have no trouble cleaning up if he were to enter into regional competitions. Then again, a guy like him wouldn't be able to fight like himself in a competition with rules. He smelled like a wild beast. There was the one thing that he had in common with Ichiro Koizumi. He too had become a black sheep in the world of martial arts. While he had talent, his techniques were far too dangerous to be able to use in a sanctioned match.
But there was one more man like Bunshichi and Souichiro. That was Shozan Matsuo, head of the Kitatatsu training hall. Himekawa wanted to meet him again. He wanted Bunshichi Tanba to meet him. Thinking about that meeting brought a little smile to Himekawa's face.
“Hey.”
Himekawa looked down to find her face looking up at him.
“Let's do it one more time...” she said with puppy-dog eyes. What she was holding under the sheet was now rock hard. Without saying a word, Himekawa tore the sheets away. The thing sitting between her fingers was looking straight up at the ceiling. She changed her position and wrapped her lips around the tip, and went all the way down to the base. She was one intense woman.
[074]
She then twisted her head from side to side while making her tongue dance inside her mouth, all while holding Himekawa's member at it's base. She slowly pulled her head back. She was becoming more and more like who she really was. She paused for a moment, a smile on her face. She was lashing her tongue around in her mouth. Himekawa stretched his arm out and grabbed her backside. Saeko knew exactly why. She moved her waist and put her knees over Himekawa's face. He could see her flesh colored cave. She was dripping wet. Himekawa was looking at her in the dim light. She lowered herself down on his face as if getting impatient.
Himekawa smiled as he opened her up with his fingers. His tongue was touching her. That was enough to make Saeko wriggle her hips. She made a muffled sound as she held him in her mouth. She took her lips off of him and further lowered her hips onto Himekawa's face. She was still stroking him with her right hand.
“I don't care if you have to leave!” Saeko said. She was rubbing herself in Himekawa's face as she spoke. “You can leave, just do it to me now!” she said, raising her voice. “Do it! Do me to death!” she cried out. Himekawa pulled himself out from under the woman once he had finished using his tongue. She grabbed at the bed sheets and stuck her hips up out in the air. She looked like a wild animal.
[075]
He had only just finished licking her. She looked like she couldn't wait any longer. He had planned on teasing her even more. Thinking about making Saeko go mad with sexual madness made his lips begin to open. Himekawa fell down to his knees behind Saeko, who had her hips perched up in the air. Himekawa got closer to her. Saeko enticed him by moving her hips around. Her hips moved quickly, begging Himekawa to push himself inside. It was their last night together, so she was even more worked up than usual. She was wet enough. Himekawa's tip slid in much easier than he thought it would. Saeko let out a high pitched groan. She felt sharp vibrations from her head down to her toes. She looked like she was about to climax from the first thrust alone. Himekawa started freely moving as Saeko moved her hips from left to right.
CHAPTER III
It was a small bar. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and filled with the Kansai dialect. It would only take about 15 people of so to fill the bar to the brim. There were two box seats and a line of stools at the counter. There were only two free seats left. The counter was made from wood. The bar was covered with bulging ash trays and over turned sake cups.
[076]
Marks left by dried up liquor were everywhere. Bunshichi Tanba and Ryoji Kubo were sitting at the very end of the
bar. Bunshichi was drinking. There were two sake cups sitting next to each other, so it seemed that Ryoji was drinking as well. They were watching a TV that sat above the entrance of the bar. Bunshichi had forgotten his drink and had his eyes glued to the TV set. Ryoji didn't look like he was all that interested.
It was a wrestling show. It had just come back on, but hadn't been long since it started. A prominent Japanese wrestler was going up against a foreigner. They were jumping around the ring, bouncing each other off the ropes. Using the bounce of the rope, the Japanese wrestler punched the foreigner in the chest. The foreign wrestler absorbed his punch by sticking his fat chest out. It was as if the Japanese wrestler's fist did no damage at all. The Japanese wrestler punched his foreign opponent in the chest a number of times, until the foreign wrestler suddenly grabbed the Japanese wrestler by the arm and pulled it upwards.
