Love Water

by Venio Tachibana

  Even wishing for it was a dream.

  Misao closed his eyes gently.

  “I feel like I’m going to wake up, and all this will be a dream.”

  As he spoke, he lifted his eyelids. Masaomi watched him, waiting for him to continue. His light brown eyes narrowed slightly with a smile, urging him to go on.

  “If I tell you, do you promise to forget all about it?”

  Masaomi took a laughing breath at Misao’s self-serious provision.

  “I’ll do what needs to be done,” he agreed in amusement.

  Misao gently rested his fingers on Masaomi’s right knee. He lifted his face and stretched out his neck.

  The smile disappeared from Masaomi’s face.

  His lips moved slightly:Mi

  Then Misao’s lips covered them.

  His fingers trembled slightly on Masaomi’s knee. Tremors ran through his rouged lips as well, and he meekly pulled his mouth away.

  Masaomi’s glistening eyes stared at Misao wonderingly. Gazing back at him, Misao confessed the secret of his heart.

  “I want to be loved.”

  As he said it, loneliness cut across his heart.

  “By you.”

  Shock filled Masaomi’s handsome face and trapped his voice.

  “More than anyone in the world.”

  They stayed silent for a long moment, their eyes locked together.

  The music of a samisen floated in from one of the other rooms.

  Masaomi opened his mouth slowly, a complicated expression on his face.

  “That’s what you dream of?”

  Misao didn’t answer, and only continued to gaze at Masaomi. Finally, he slowly dropped his eyes and bowed his head. It shook from side to side.

  “Please forget I told you that.”

  Misao reminded him of the promise reluctantly. He lifted his fingers from Masaomi’s leg, but Masaomi took them in his hand.

  “What a cruel thing to ask of me.”

  His voice was fierce in this rebuke, and Misao raised his face.

  Masaomi looked angry and inconsolable.

  He held Misao’s delicate chin and lifted it sharply.

  Confused, Misao looked up at him. Everything was in shadow.

  He felt a breath on his lips.

  “How can I forget that?”

  There was tension in Masaomi’s voice. The man sealed his lips forcefully and Misao stopped breathing.

  His mind went instantly blank.

  “Mmph”

  Misao felt as if he would be devoured by this kiss, that his tongue would be pulled from his mouth. A breath escaped through his nose.

  An arm wrapped around the back of his neck and tilted his body backwards.

  Where their lips joined, Misao’s body trembled each time that they pulled briefly apart.

  His back slowly reached the floor.

  He felt the kisses melting inside his mouth.

  His mind grew hazy, as if he were suffocating. He couldn’t think.

  Their lips separated with a wet smack. Hot breaths slipped through this slight opening and Misao’s eyes slid open.

  They locked with the man’s expression, awash in masculine charm.

  A faint coat of rouge had transferred to his lips.

  Dreamily, Misao raised his trembling right hand and, with the pad of his middle finger, he wiped the color from Masaomi’s lips in a tender caress.

  Masaomi’s eyes grew intent.

  He whispered something Misao couldn’t hear, his whispered breath sweeping up his neck and Misao arched his head back. He felt Masaomi’s soft hair on his neck and heard rustling cloth as he loosened his obi.

  Suddenly, Misao opened his eyes wide.

  His heart pounded manically in his chest. His vision swirled in confusion, but then Masaomi’s lustful face was once again before him.

  They gazed at each other. The passion raised the question “why?” in his mind, then melted it like wax.

  Weaving between the layers of kimono and women’s underthings, Masaomi wrapped an arm around Misao’s waist. He held him tightly and pulled him up, bringing his lips to Misao’s.

  The heavy embroidered kimono slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor.

  Misao sat before Masaomi in nothing but his red slip, devouring him with kisses.

  His mind was a swirling blankness and he knew: this was pleasure.

  It didn’t matter what happened now, he thought. He could do anything.

  Pulling back the red slip, Masaomi’s palm found his knee. He stroked the skin of Misao’s leg up to his inner thigh, and Misao groaned.

  Their joined lips pulled apart. The next instant, Misao clung to Masaomi’s shoulders and cried out senselessly.

  His eyes burned with the pleasure of Masaomi’s touch on his skin.

  “Ahah! Yes!”

  “Do you like that?”

  Masaomi’s voice was at his ear, but rich with an unfamiliar lust, making Misao’s passion burn even brighter.

  As Masaomi stroked Misao’s leg, his thumb rolled over the tip of his organ and they heard a wet noise. Misao’s panting breaths grew quicker.

  His delicate fingers clung to Masaomi’s vest desperately.

  He pressed his forehead into Masaomi’s collar bone and shook his head.

  “Don’t hold back.”

  When Misao felt the warm exhalation behind his ear, a cry that had been caught in Misao’s throat broke free and he strained his head back. His entire body stiffened. When his muscles relaxed and his eyelids fell heavily, Misao rested his cheek on Masaomi’s shoulder, as if he were falling.

  Masaomi’s lips gently brushed the skin of his temple.

  The wild heaving of Misao’s shoulders had dropped the red slip from his body.

  He slowly raised his head and looked up at Masaomi. Misao felt embarrassed by the passion in Masaomi’s gaze, but he pulled his body back slightly and raised his knees. He rested his hands on the man’s shoulders.

  Masaomi looked up at Misao, smiling.

  “I wanted to do this with you.”

  As these sweet words passed his lips, Misao kissed them away, his face trembling in slow waves.

  Masaomi stroked Misao’s back as he held him, then slowly dropped his hand to rub the hills of flesh and squeeze them. He slipped a wet finger from his other hand between them, exploring Misao’s rim.

  Misao felt his face twisting painfully at the tightness he felt as Masaomi’s finger plunged inside him. Masaomi pulled his mouth away to look into Misao’s face, as if he could feel the change in the tension of Misao’s tongue as they kissed.

  “Misao?”

  Misao shook his head at Masaomi’s concern. He stared frantically back at the man who watched him.

  “Relax as much as you can. It’s all right. I’ll be nice.”

  Masaomi reassured him and adjusted his grip on Misao’s waist.

  He checked Misao’s reaction constantly as he opened his body, almost too politely. When he’d taken Masaomi’s warmth inside himself, Misao no longer felt the pain.

  He wrapped his arms around the man’s broad back.

  He was so happy he thought his joy might crush him.

  “I wanted so badly to hide myself in your arms,” Masaomi breathed against the skin of Misao’s temple. Misao rolled his head back and sighed.

  “It’s like a dream.”

  The breath tickled his earlobe. The man’s whisper conquered him.

  Behind the screen, Misao pulled his heavy kimono over his naked body and sat up, legs shaking. Masaomi was beside him, kindly trying to fix his ruffled hair.

  He thrust the last hairpin through Misao’s chignon, then pulled the kimono from Misao’s shoulders.

  Misao hunched up slightly in his total nakedness before Masaomi placed the red slip over his body.

  “Thank you.” Misao said shyly. He started to tie the slip shut, but Masaomi stopped him.

  Misao looked up at him in confusion and felt Masaomi’s soft hair on
his face. His lips trailed over Misao’s collarbone, leaving a tight, sweet ache on the skin.

  “Ah”

  A small cry escaped him and he softly lifted the eyelids he had shut reflexively.

  He raised his passionate gaze to Masaomi’s dear face. Masaomi held the back of Misao’s neck and pulled him close to share yet another kiss. Misao’s hands had only rested on the cloth covering Masaomi’s chest, but they inched upwards until his fingertips brushed the man’s shoulders, when he surrendered himself to an impulse and clung to him. Masaomi’s hold around his waist tightened in response.

  Their lips were pressed so firmly together that Misao couldn’t even breathe.

  His brain ached with passion.

  Masaomi sucked on his tongue and Misao answered.

  When their lips pulled apart, a faint, luscious voice mingled with his gasping.

  He rested his cheek on Masaomi’s chest.

  “I don’t want to ever let go.”

  As soon as this powerful emotion was past his lips, they heard the sound of footsteps pattering over the floor.

  Misao caught his breath and turned to look. Masaomi drew Misao’s body back against him and held him tightly. He laid his cheek against his right temple. Misao could tell he was watching the same direction Misao had turned to look at.

  A human figure appeared through a gap in the folding screen.

  It was Sazu.

  She turned her head this way and that, and when she saw the two of them tangled together behind the screen, her jaw dropped.

  But she was a true child of the brothel. She seemed to understand what was going on immediately.

  Misao opened his mouth to say something to her, but nothing came to him, and in the end he closed his mouth again.

  “Mmmmy older sister” Sazu stammered, after much effort. “She wants me to tell her what’s going on in here…”

  Misao’s brows knitted and he jerked his head. Even he didn’t know if he’d nodded or hung his head.

  He started to stand up, but Masaomi’s arms stopped him. He turned his head to look at Masaomi in confusion.

  “Let me go, Masaomi.”

  Masaomi’s lips brushed Misao’s request away, then pulled him back.

  Misao gasped, his eyes wide, and Masaomi gazed at him with an intense expression. Then he chuckled.

  “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to let go.” Misao’s face flushed at his teasing. It was so cruel.

  “Don’t tease me, please.”

  “I don’t want to let you go.”

  Masaomi spoke seriously, the smile disappearing from his face.

  His eyes twinkled with a flicker of happiness.

  But Misao was brought quickly back to reality.

  When he finally looked back around, Sazu had a desperate look on her face, as if she had to pee.

  “Where is Ukigumo?” Misao asked huskily.

  “In the hall.”

  Sazu stretched her entire arm out to point. She stared at Misao, wide-eyed.

  Misao wiggled around, pulling his kimono around him. Apparently Masaomi understood that the struggle was serious because this time he let Misao go.

  Misao stood up. His legs still trembled slightly, but his kimono hid the unsteadiness of his lower body in its trailing splendor.

  He adjusted the red slip. Sazu picked up the ornamental sash and brought it over to him. It was the trained reflex of a maid.

  Dressing quickly, he tied the obi in the front.

  Last was the heavy embroidered kimono. Misao turned his head to look for it when the cloth was draped around his shoulders from behind.

  He looked over his shoulder and turned around.

  When he was face to face with Masaomi, he was hugged tightly to the man’s chest.

  “Misao”

  Masaomi whispered his regret at parting against Misao’s ear, but Misao shook his head firmly. If he let himself be pulled aside, his heart and actions would become lazy.

  He laid his hands on Masaomi’s chest and took a step back.

  He’d had no idea.

  Remembering the warmth of the man’s body, Misao’s heart, his entire body even, ached.

  “I’m going,” he said at last. It was pointless to look up at him.

  He turned around, pulling his arms through the sleeves of the kimono that rested on his shoulders.

  When he left the tea room, he saw Ukigumo to his left, standing at the end of the railing gazing up at the stars.

  “Are you done?”

  She turned her head lightly to look at Misao. He felt like her eyes saw straight through him.

  Holding his kimono tightly closed, Misao dipped his head and hurried away. Ukigumo called out behind him, her voice ringing, “The old gentleman is here.”

  Misao couldn’t make himself stop and face Ukigumo.

  Guilt had sprung up too thickly around him.

  “Thank you.”

  He acknowledged her in words only and walked quickly away down the hall.

  He had probably done something wrong. He didn’t need to wonder. He knew he’d made a mistake and that was why he could no longer look anyone in the eye.

  Still… He rested against the railing that surrounded the central garden.

  When he gazed up at the same sky Ukigumo had seen, he saw a beautiful moon there.

  He smelled the fragrance of cherry blossoms on the breeze.

  His eyelids trembled as if in a seizure.

  Now that he was alone, the feeling of Masaomi against every nook in his body reawakened starkly in his mind.

  He had been so happy. He was happy. So he didn’t need to regret what happened.

  Suddenly someone tugged on the arm of his kimono.

  He looked up at the person in surprise. Kazushi was staring at him, his face tense.

  “What?”

  Even before he’d seen who it was, Misao had had a bad feeling.

  Kazushi explained heavily. “Master Towa has made an offer for Ukigumo’s body.”

  Misao blinked slowly, then staggered, as if there had been an earthquake.

  He felt all the warmth leave his fingertips, as if all his blood were draining. Kazushi kept his grip firm on Misao’s arm as he sank heavily to the floor.

  Misao spun around on the music, a bird spreading his arms wide with every revolution, his legs tucked loosely under his body. His long sleeves swept through the sky like wings.

  His mind was a blank as his eyes swept about. For some reason, he wanted to laugh.

  A chuckle bubbled out of him.

  He fumbled his steps and drew out a staggering circle as he approached the butterfly table. He finished by rolling onto his knees and sitting.

  “Ah-ah! You’re drunk, Misao!”

  Two apprentices under Ukigumo hurried over to lift Misao on their shoulders. Misao shook himself free of their interference. He seemed to recall shouting something at the same time, but he wasn’t really sure.

  “Well, he certainly has drunk enough. Why not give up, Mister Sakai?”

  Misao’s eyes popped open at the sound of Ukigumo’s tranquil voice behind him, and he froze. It cleared his mind of the alcohol faster than a bath of ice water.

  Sakai looked up at Misao’s back with the indulgent eyes of a festival god.

  “But sometimes you need to escape into alcohol.”

  “And what do you do then?” Ukigumo countered placidly, sitting down beside Sakai. “That doesn’t change reality.”

  She was right.

  Masaomi had always belonged to her.

  That was reality.

  He had ignored that and let himself run loose for long enough. What more could he do?

  In the end, he would have to give the man up.

  “He’s gotten so quiet.”

  The apprentices were mocking him.

  “Maybe he ran out of fuel.”

  They peered into Misao’s face from either side, giggling, when suddenly their coldness disappeared.
<
br />   “Oh, here’s the jester.”

  Ukigumo waved the man in.

  “We have two butterflies here who’ve been resting their wings,” she told him meaningfully, and the two apprentices instantly shrieked and leapt to their feet. The female performer already there began plucking out a faster rhythm on her samisen. Sprinkling the room with vibrant shrieks, the two girls and the drummer began to play hide and seek.

  The festivities were like another world.

  Misao was taking it all in hazily when his eyes met Sakai’s kind gaze. He tried to smile at him, but he failed. Misao offered to refill his wine in an attempt to cover it up.

  Sakai held his cup out and Misao silently tipped the wine bottle over it.

  “I see love water in your eyes.”

  Sakai smiled, his eyes narrowing to thin lines.

  Misao tilted his head slightly in confusion.

  “You’re usually tough enough to play your part, but as soon as you fall in love, you’re made of glass. You’re just like your mother.”

  “Love water?”

  Misao whispered the words.

  Sakai raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You’ve never heard of it? In more elegant circles, we call the tears you shed for love, ‘love water.’”

  Sakai reached out a withered hand to brush a tear from Misao’s cheek.

  “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.