But there was no end to pleasure. His body kept asking for more and more.
"Damnit," Kuji growled under his breath as he continued to pump his flaccid member. I won't let him be the last one to make me come. His last time had to be on his own means, of his own will.
"Ah, ah-ah...!" Kuji let out fragmented moans as he caught the hot liquid in his hand. His nostrils quivered at the raw smell that stung them.
"Hah...." Kuji let out a breath before zipping up his fly and lying belly-down on the floor.
He wiped his wet fingers on his jeans. The thudding of his heartbeat gradually quieted down. Then, he heard the faint strains of an organ. He thought it was strange to hear playing at night.
Past the front entrance of the church, there was a hall which was used as the chapel. Although it was adequately sound-proofed so as not to disturb the rest of the residential neighborhood, it was nonetheless uncommon to hear the organ played at early-morning and late-night masses.
The chapel was accessible from the living quarters through a side door, but since it was right next to the altar, Kuji instead went outside again through the back door. He went around to the front entrance and opened the door to the hall. He was met with a sight of bright, shimmering lights.
A man in priest's robes was playing the organ. There was a couple sitting in the pew at the very front.
Song. Kuji called out the man's name in his head. The organ stopped as if the player had heard him.
"You've come at just the right time," said Reverend Song, his back still turned. His voice was low and soft. He then stood up and turned around, showing his impeccably-proportioned face as he looked at Kuji. He beckoned with his large palm.
"These two would like to hold a wedding ceremony, but they don't have the time to come in and listen to my sermons. That's why I've been holding them at night especially for them. Masatake, will you play for me?"
The man in the couple clearly looked like he was of South American descent. The woman was Japanese, and looked like she worked in the liquor and entertainment business. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap dress which revealed a generously-fleshed back, and she was wearing a shawl over it. When Kuji slipped past the couple, he caught a glimpse of her voluptuous cleavage.
He sat down in front of the organ in Song's stead. He began to play slowly. Song stood in front of the couple with the Bible in hand.
Her boobs are in plain view from where Song's standing - the moment the thought crossed his mind, Kuji felt hatred bloom in his heart toward the woman. He desperately subdued it while he let his fingers dance over the keys.
"Today, we will start by reading about the epistles to the Thessalonians. If you could turn to page-"
The sermon and hymn in unison was itself over in about fifteen minutes.
"Will you come tomorrow night, as well?" Song asked the couple.
"Yes, Father."
"Then, I will hold the third sermon tomorrow night. After that, let us decide on a date for your ceremony."
The man and woman kneeled before Song and kissed his hand. They bowed deeply before leaving through the door. Song followed them and saw them out at the entrance, then came back and approached Kuji.
"Welcome back," Song said. His thick eyebrow gave a slight twitch. Kuji did not miss it. He lifted his hand, which he had wiped on his jeans just moments before, and brought it to his nose.
"Do I smell? I wiped it off, though. I don't think any of it got on the keys."
Song sighed and peered into Kuji's eyes.
"Masatake, I'm not criticizing you for it. I'm not going to tell a young man like you to do as I do. I just hope that someday you'll find happiness like that couple has done."
Kuji sniffed derisively and wiped the organ keys with his handkerchief. The discord that sounded from the organ was jarring.
"Don't you think they're suspicious, coming out in the middle of the night like that? Besides, aren't you afraid for your safety at all? I don't know what you're thinking, leaving your door unlocked every hour of the day."
"People wouldn't be able to come in if I locked my door. That's how you came in that day, Masatake."
I already knew it would be unlocked.
That night, I made it seem like I'd sought cover because I was running from the gang. But it was all an act. Why can't you even see through that? I thought your God was supposed to be almighty.
Kuji internally hurled the words at Song, whose back was now turned as he walked toward the altar. Song blew out the candles that had been lit there.
"Come on over. I'll make you a cup of coffee," he said. They left the chapel through the small side door beneath the altar and exited into the hallway.
They entered the kitchen, where Song put the coffee maker on. Soon, a fragrant aroma filled the air. Song handed Kuji a mug of coffee, which he drank standing up while leaning against the wall. He watched Song sit at the table and put milk in his own cup.
"Why do you make them come for three days? To make sure it's not a fraudulent marriage to get a visa?"
"No," Song said as he smiled up at Kuji. "In Catholicism, when you swear upon your love before God, it is eternal. That means you have to be very careful in going through with it. I recommend people to come three times so that they can turn back if their hearts are unsure. Peter said three times that he did not know Christ. But even then, Christ still forgave him."
Kuji sniffed in derision again and took his empty mug to the sink. Song spoke up behind him.
"Masatake, what are you doing tomorrow? Well, today, to be more exact."
"I'll go with you. Manual labor is the least I could do to pay for my meal. I'd offer sex, but you always say no. You're such a hassle."
Song laughed softly. His voice went straight to Kuji's groin, and he came close to letting out a groan.
"Masatake, we're leaving at nine-thirty. People from the NPO will come to fetch us. You should catch some sleep until then."
"You, too," Kuji managed to squeeze out before he hastily went to go outside. He climbed the set of stairs in front of him, which led him to the living quarters on the second floor. Kuji stepped into the small room that he had to himself. He climbed into bed and squeezed his eyes shut.
That voice, the sound of the organ. Song had occupied a place in Kuji's heart ever since they first met that day. And Public Safety knew very well that he did.
* * *
Consolation visits to the juvenile detention center were one-sided displays of goodwill that inmates found difficult to appreciate. Whatever the superficial do-gooders said sounded vacant and meaningless to people who knew that at the end of the day, they were still trapped within the walls of their prison. People of religion always mentioned words like love, friendship, loyalty, and gratitude - words that sounded sickeningly fake. But inmates still had to bow their heads and listen, for fear of making a bad impression on the prison guards.
In fact, just today a priest from some church had brought along a group of such visitors and given a lengthy and tiresome sermon. But Kuji appreciated the chocolate and cake that they had brought in; inmates were always starved for sweets. The amateur band that they had provided as entertainment hadn't been half-bad, either. The priest was open-minded; instead of a lineup of gloomy religious hymns, the band had played pop tunes like the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and even Peter, Paul and Mary; and the Carpenters. Kuji hadn't known who the artists were at the time, but he thought they were better than religious hymns.
He had been assigned as a janitor at the time, and was mopping the floor alone in the vacant hall after the modest concert and meal had ended. That was when someone had come in.
The person sat at the facility's piano and had begun to play. A soft singing voice carried a melody that was more beautiful than any he had ever heard.
Amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
When he came to, K
uji found himself standing beside the player, not even attempting to wipe the tears flowing from his eyes.
The man playing the piano[m2] had a tall stature and was wearing jeans and a black shirt with a mandarin collar. Kuji remembered him playing the keyboard in the amateur band.
His facial structure was European, with his high nose and chiseled features, but his tapered eyes and black hair made him look more Japanese.
The man directed a gentle gaze at Kuji when he approached.
"It's a beautiful song, isn't it?" he said. "Would you like to try playing, too?"
"I've... never played before."
"It's an easy melody. Let me teach you."
Before Kuji knew it, he was sitting on the bench and following the man's directions as he pressed each key on the piano.
"Are you sure you've never played before?" came the man's surprised voice from above.
"Yeah."
"I don't believe it. You must have a born talent for it, then. Your left hand is keeping up well, too."
"Father," called a prison guard's voice, interrupting their time alone together.
At those words, Kuji learned for the first time that the man in front of him was a priest.
"This boy has musical talent," the priest said. "Education is one of the important purposes of this facility, isn't it? I'll come here regularly to teach him."
That had been Kuji's first encounter with Song.
Kuji absorbed music like dry sand absorbing water. He learned not only hymns and classical pieces, but also pop songs. Juvenile detention centers encouraged inmates to acquire skills and qualifications more than adult prisons, which made it easier for Kuji to get permission to receive lessons.
"When you finish serving your sentence, come to me," Song told him at every opportunity.
Then, one day, Song's visits stopped. He had been put in charge of a different diocese, and he said that he could no longer take the time to visit the detention center. It was bound to happen, Kuji told himself. He had been an idiot for believing in the man. He told himself that he would probably never see Song again.
"Your next subject is someone you know," Nango had told him after Kuji's infiltration mission with the cult was complete. Kuji realized that he had already been marked as a potential spy candidate by Public Safety even while he was still in juvenile. That was why he had been given permission so easily to receive music lessons - it had all been part of the plan.
This was perhaps the first time that Kuji caved in to Nango.
He did what he was told and visited Song that day. Although eight years had passed, Song appeared unchanged. He had the same masculine allure and nimble movements that hinted at his physical fitness. These features, unusual for a priest, were also part of the reason why Kuji had been surprised when he found out that Song was one.
"I was wondering if you would ever visit me," Song told him. "I felt bad about the way I had to leave you. Maybe we met again by chance, but I think it's what God intended."
When Kuji appeared before Song that day, battered by Nango in a form of disguise, Song had taken him to a nearby night clinic. At the clinic he met a doctor with a pretty face and a man with a sturdy build who looked like his bodyguard. There, he received treatment.
"If you're being chased by a gang, you should take cover here for a while," Song had told him. He had lapped up every word of the lie that Nango had fabricated, and agreed to take Kuji in. He had allowed Kuji to live in the church.
* * *
Slender, supple fingers danced over the keys.
"I would say, if anything was eye-catching about you, it would be your fingers," Nango had said on several occasions. Kuji had no idea if it was true. But he was thankful that he could move his fingers freely and for the ease with which he was able to weave a melody.
Haydn's The Seven Last Words of our Savior on the Cross was a sorrowful melody. Although the piece was made for strings, Song had arranged it to be played on the organ.
The introduction in adagio had a dramatic melody that foreshadowed tragedy. The sonata that followed was, for some reason, a bright largo. The third movement depicted words to Barabbas, and was also a breezy and light melody. Kuji sensed a presence standing beside him and gave a sidelong glance.
"You must like this piece," Song said.
"Yeah. It's the second song I learned from you after Amazing Grace."
"You have a good memory."
Kuji did not answer as he kept playing. He enjoyed the times they spent like this. It was the only contact that he and Song could have.
What else could he do, as a church organ player who did not believe the words of God?
After he finished playing the third movement, Kuji closed the lid of the organ.
"It's almost time, isn't it?"
Song nodded as he unfolded the coat he had been holding and draped it over the shoulders of his priest's robes.
"As much as I'd like to sit and listen for a bit longer, it's almost time."
Kuji followed Song into the pantry below the stairs. He carried the stacked cardboard boxes there to the entrance of the house. The boxes contained blankets, underwear, and socks that had been donated by members of the parish.
A small truck could already be heard beeping its warning signal as it backed in through the gates. A man with a slender build was sitting on the loading bed of the truck. He leapt off nimbly to take the cardboard box from Song. He beckoned to Kuji with a jerk of his chin.
"Get up on there and take the box from me."
Kuji disliked this man. He was the NPO's representative, and his name was Nosaka. He always looked at Kuji with suspicion. After the first time they'd met, he had gone to Song and warned him not to "let such a shady-looking guy in."
Kuji gave a sniff and ignored Nosaka, going around the truck to the passenger side. He opened the door and turned to Song.
"Song, get on. We'll do the rest. Right, Mr. Nosaka?"
Faced with no choice to refuse, Nosaka clicked his tongue irritably and hoisted the cardboard box onto the loading bed.
"Get up onto the loading bed," Nosaka repeated, in a stubborn attempt to resist giving Kuji the reins.
"You get up there," Kuji said.
"What?" Nosaka scowled, his temper rising.
"I'm younger than you," Kuji continued. "You don't want to throw out your back, do you?"
Nosaka remained hesitant until a female voice called from the driver's seat.
"He's right, you know."
Kuji looked in surprise at the driver's seat to see a large South Asian woman with dark skin leaning out of her seat. She was wearing an alpaca wool sweater with snug-fitting jeans, her glossy black hair coming down to her shoulders. Kuji had never seen her before.
"Fine." Nosaka climbed back up onto the loading bed. "All right, keep them coming."
Chapter 3
In the winter, the default menu for the makeshift soup kitchen was a hearty miso-based soup with root vegetables, called kenchinjiru, which was served along with a salted rice ball.
Winters had become especially harsh for the homeless after convenience stores had begun locking their waste bins. Fortunately, there were many support organizations in the capital of Tokyo which the homeless could turn to. Therefore it was no surprise that many chose to head into the big city.
Global warming was also good news for these people; although the breeze was still biting cold, some degree of comfort graced their faces as they loitered in the sun on a warm winter day.
While NPO members doled out food in disposable paper dishes, Kuji sorted blankets and underwear a distance away. Song was also seen in the organization's tent, talking to an elderly homeless person and rubbing his back. It was Song's job to examine the homeless' physical conditions and provide them with medicine if necessary. There was also an older female nurse who took their blood pressure when it was needed.
Kuji discreetly but firmly kept his eyes locked on Song as he sorted through clothing. He watched for who wo
uld approach him, who would talk to him. He had to report all of this information to Nango - that was why he was situated here, with a clear view of the man. At least that was what he told himself.
No, it's not. He knew it wasn't. The fact left a bitter taste in his mouth. The dark-haired woman who had been sitting in the driver's seat was leaning in towards Song. Her large stature balanced out well with Song's own towering height. You could say they looked like a good couple.
Although Song was in a religious occupation, Kuji found it hard to believe that he wouldn't be interested in women. Song only refused to have relations with Kuji because he wasn't interested in men. If that was the case, the man could vow celibacy all he wanted, but there was no doubt that he probably felt sexual desire for women. Song would probably never actually engage in the act with a woman, but just the idea of him feeling desire for one was hard for Kuji to bear.
He could still let it pass if a woman approached Song in church. But outside of the church, all of Kuji's restraint went out the window. The hatred he felt for all the women who approached Song inevitably showed in his face.
That was his biggest reason for distancing himself from Song in these situations.
Just then, Kuji spotted an unfamiliar man approaching the tent. He was wearing a half-length coat and jeans, with brown hair and an ear piercing. He was rather plump, with small eyes and full lips. He looked no older than thirty.
The man was bowing to Song and the members of the NPO and speaking to them. Kuji nonchalantly edged closer.
"...Yes, I was a homeless person myself once. Even before they coined the term 'Internet cafe refugees'."
The man pulled out his business cards from his inside pocket and began handing them out.
Doesn't seem like anyone suspicious, Kuji thought. No spy would go around handing out business cards. He read the card that was handed to him. It was printed with the words, "Kiyoshi Morimoto, Asylum Net."
Amazing Grace: Yaoi Novel Page 2
