"Don't move."
Nango grabbed him by the nape of the neck and bent him over a nearby garbage can.
"Show me your ass."
Kuji already was - in this position, bent over the trash can, his buttocks were already raised high. He heard a slam and whirled around to see one of the busboys from the sex parlors standing there with a trash bucket.
"Fuck off!" Nango barked. "Or else, I'll fuck you, too!"
The busboy tossed his bucket aside and closed the door hastily behind him.
"Talk about ruining the moment," Nango spat as he began to penetrate Kuji. Every time Kuji was pierced by the man's thick rod, his body recalled the pleasure he had felt when he masturbated in Song's lap. He hadn't had anal sex since then.
He felt the man's penis digging into his soft insides, and underlying his pain was the sensation that his innards were churning.
Yes, this was what he had wanted - the hot shaft of a man inside him.
Kuji did not even realize that he was gyrating his hips. He arched his back to match Nango's movements, devoured him deeply, and clenched. Every time the rod tried to get out of him, he latched on.
A moan escaped from the wadded towel in Kuji's mouth.
"That's what I like to hear. Finally remembering what my cock tastes like, huh?" he heard Nango say with his usual contempt, but Kuji was beyond caring about appearances. He nodded his head vigorously, giving Nango a pleading look over his shoulder.
"That's it, beg for my compassion," Nango said as he breathed raggedly, picking up his pace.
"Nh—nhh—!"
He called Nango's name when he climaxed. Fortunately for Kuji, the towel prevented his outburst from forming coherent words.
Nango zipped up his fly while he looked down at Kuji, who was lying, spent, on the ground. He kicked at Kuji's ribs.
"Give me your cell phone."
When Kuji handed it over, Nango took out the memory chip and put it into another phone. He pressed some numbers, forwarded the data, and when that was done, he dropped the cell phone on Kuji's belly.
"Use this one. The number is the same. So is all the data that's stored in it."
Nango then placed his foot on top of Kuji's groin.
"Nango..."
Nango sniffed derisively when Kuji looked at him with fearful eyes.
"I won't hurt you, bastard. You can still make yourself useful. But," he said, as he leaned his weight on Kuji's crotch, "if you try to do anything stupid again..."
The foot came off. Kuji somehow managed to sit up. Nango's face was closing in towards him.
"Listen. All you have to do is moan for my penis and that's it. You wanted it, didn't you? You latched onto me like some fucking octopus."
Kuji didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He looked silently up at Nango instead. But Nango showed neither derisive contempt nor anger as he looked back at Kuji with hard eyes.
"Don't let your thoughts wander on things that don't matter. Don't wish for things you can't have."
He was absolutely right, Kuji thought. But he still shook his head vehemently. He closed his eyes, bracing to be given a blow, but the blow did not come. He snapped his eyes open to see Nango with his back to him.
"All you have to do is keep watch on Song. Do anything else, and I can't guarantee that you'll make it out alive."
When Kuji got back to the church, Song was nowhere to be found.
Kuji's pants gave off a sour odor, a mix of wet garbage, semen, and sweat. The smell still clung to him even after he had taken off his pants. He decided to take a shower.
Once Kuji was naked and in the shower room, he finally understood the reason for the smell.
"The bastard didn't wear a condom," Kuji swore under his breath as he inserted his fingers in from behind and opened himself up. The white liquid that the man had funneled into him dripped down his thigh. Kuji took his time to clean his insides thoroughly in the shower. When he inserted his fingers, he could feel how hot it was and how the folds of flesh in its inner lining throbbed. His body was still thirsting for a penis regardless of his will. He loathed the fact that his body had grown accustomed to Nango.
"Damnit... damnit..." Kuji growled as he fingered himself. He tried to imagine Song's fingers, but the only image that rose on the back of his eyelids was Nango's face and his fiercely-rearing penis.
Defeated, Kuji pulled his fingers out and splashed his restless body with cold water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen, where he found Song waiting.
Kuji kept his head down as he drew closer, ashamed of having climaxed ecstatically at the hands of Nango. But he still decided to come clean.
"...I did it again."
Song placed his hand gently on Kuji's head. "Masatake, God will not abandon you because of that. You have nothing to fear."
"But you—!" Kuji burst out loudly as he roughly brushed Song's hand off of him. "You think I'm filthy, don't you? Telling you that I love you like that, even jerking myself off on your lap... and then still liking it when I'm fucked by another guy! I even promised myself I'd stop... make do by thinking about you while I do it myself... but I still let myself get fucked, and I came, over and over—"
Kuji's last words were hoarse, and he turned his face aside, feeling ashamed. But Song only placed his hand again on Kuji's head.
"God made men's bodies this way. There's nothing we can do about that."
If there really was a God, how idiotic it was for Him to do this, Kuji thought. He shifted his gaze back to Song. He studied the peaceful face looking back at him.
"And... how about you? You're not impotent. Don't you get urges to do it sometimes? Or are you not allowed to jerk off, either? How do you restrain yourself? Is it super easy? Piece of cake?"
"Super easy, piece of cake, huh. Sounds like typical teenager speak," said Song, his lips turning up slightly. "I will say that I do find it very difficult sometimes."
Kuji widened his eyes in astonishment. "How... how do you resist?"
"There was someone who once saved my life. When I remember that, and it's not difficult anymore."
"Your life..." He had never expected those words to come out of Song's mouth. He was expecting to hear things about God's love, or absolute happiness, or a ticket to Heaven. Things like that.
He suddenly recalled what Nango had said.
"We think he's a sleeper for the North."
Song's life had been in danger - because he was a spy? Were the scars on his back related to that? Yet Song had said that he did not believe in his country. Would someone be a spy for a country he did not trust? He didn't know.
Kuji continued to stare at Song in silence. Song slid his hand off of Kuji's head and lifted the napkin on the table to reveal a deep dish containing rice balls.
"A member of the congregation made them. Let's have dinner. Go and put your clothes on."
Kuji returned to the change room, picked up his underwear and pants from the floor, and headed toward the washing machine. Before throwing the clothes in, he reached into the pockets. He pulled out the cell phone that Nango had given him, and also found the Darth Vader figure that came out with it.
"Oh..." He had completely forgotten about Ogura. Kuji changed quickly and went back to the kitchen, calling out to Song, who was pouring coffee for both of them.
"Hey, I heard something weird today," he said. Song paused from pouring the coffee as Kuji continued to elaborate. The man furrowed his brow and appeared to lapse deep into thought. Deep wrinkles were etched between his eyebrows.
"Masatake, to tell you the truth, I've actually also heard rumors. Not like the urban legend that Ogura mentioned to you, but it might be something similar. The only difference is that this was a horrible and very criminal act. When I first heard about it, I thought it was absurd. I had trouble believing it."
"And what's that?" Kuji glared impatiently at Song for drawing his story out. "Tell me."
Song looked worriedly a
t Kuji. "It's very frightening. You might not be able to bear hearing about it, Masatake."
"Don't worry, I'm a spy for Public Safety," he wished he could say. But he couldn't. "I've been in jail, you know," he said instead, puffing his chest out. "I was even a part of the yakuza. Little things aren't gonna scare me."
"Oh, right. I'd forgotten. Seeing how you are, now, Masatake, I wouldn't even be able to imagine," Song smiled wryly as he handed Kuji his coffee. "Maybe coffee wasn't the best drink to go with rice balls," he added as an afterthought.
After dinner, Song asked if he would be able to meet Ogura. "I want to see him in person and hear his story."
Kuji cocked his head, unsure. "He's working part-time at a convenience store right now. I don't know what his shifts are like. Let me call him and see." With that, he flipped open the phone that Nango had given him. Ogura's number was already listed. The young man picked up immediately.
"He's working the evening shift. He'll be finished at twelve," Kuji kept his cell phone to his ear as he told Song. "He says he'll be able to come by bike, so he's going to go home to Okubo first. What do you want to do?"
"Let's pick him up."
Kuji was surprised at the man's answer, but nonetheless told Ogura, anyway.
"He says there's no problem with that. But why?" he asked as he put the cell phone away in his back pocket.
"We shouldn't wait until tomorrow. It's just a gut feeling." Song pulled out his own cell phone and began contacting someone else. Once he was done, he looked over at Kuji. "I'm going out for a bit," he said. He looked clearly on-edge, wearing an unusually severe look.
"Where're you going?" Kuji asked.
"I'm going to rent a car. The subways won't be running at midnight anymore, remember?"
Kuji could see his point.
"Catch some sleep, Masatake," Song told him. But even after returning to his room, Kuji found it hard to calm down. He had a feeling that something was going to happen behind his back without him having any awareness of it.
He clutched the cell phone that Nango had given him.
Chapter 6
Song unfurled the rest of his story as they drove along in the minivan.
"Emmaus is active around the world," he explained. "So, naturally they also have a wide information network. I'm not directly affiliated with them, but participating in their work often brings in information from other NPOs. I did call it a rumor earlier, but the information is actually quite accurate. It's not limited to the country that you're thinking of. Various groups abduct people for various reasons."
Generally it was understood that people abducted Japanese people in order to obtain their passports and impersonate them.
"Isn't that it?" Kuji asked. "Aren't they doing it so that they can become Japanese?"
Song did not answer him, but instead responded with a question of his own. "Well, did you know that in some countries, the sale of human organs is legal? Income disparity is extremely severe in those countries, and some will sell their organs for money."
"So, what about it?"
Song glanced over at Kuji. "That's how much organ transplants are in demand."
Kuji's eyes widened. "You... is 伊that伊 what you mean?"
"I can't say for sure, though."
Once, there had been a warning issued among groups who aided the homeless. Disappearances were already commonplace, as homeless people had no fixed address. But even if aid groups tracked the whereabouts of missing people, suspecting foul play, oftentimes they found out that these people had simply changed their sleeping places.
If abductors were after Japanese passports, all they needed was someone with a Japanese nationality. But if they were after healthy human organs, targeting homeless people would put them out of luck. With elderly homeless people on the rise, this was especially true.
"And that's the reason for targeting this specific group," Song said. "Internet cafe refugees are often young and healthy."
"That's what Morimoto's doing?"
"I don't know. But all of us are very careful about dealing with organizations that run any similar kind of business - especially when there's information about missing persons. Asylum Net is a name that has come up amongst us a few times already. We've been providing information to the police, but we haven't been able to get a hold of decisive evidence."
The car pulled in from Gaien-higashi-dori to Yasukuni-dori.
Nango was in possession of no such information, as far as Kuji knew. But in an organization as sectionalist as the police, perhaps it was the norm. Kuji remembered what Nango had told him - that the Public Safety division itself was divided into many small departments, where the personnel neither knew about each other nor the work that others did. As Kuji lapsed into thought, Song picked up where he had left off.
"And these people know that the country will never put spotlight on the problem of Internet cafe refugees. A politician's word carries so little weight compared to the word of God."
Kuji stared at Song's face. "Are you a Communist?"
"No. I belong to the kingdom of God."
The car passed by the Kabukicho district and dipped under the Shinjuku Ogado overpass. The sidewalks were teeming with people as if it were daytime. Shinjuku continued to be active long past midnight.
"Do you know where he's working right now?" Song asked. "How about we pick him up directly?"
Kuji only knew that Ogura worked at a convenience store, and not the specific location. When he told Song that, the man said, "All right," and continued to drive. They stopped a block away from the building that housed Asylum Net.
"Is the entrance open twenty-four hours?"
"No. Some people work night shifts, but in that case the front desk is supposed to open the door when they come in."
"If you come in at this hour, would they let you in, Masatake?"
"Who knows," said Kuji, tilting his head. "I'm sure they'll open the door if someone I know is there."
"You should call your friend's cell instead. Let's have him come out to get you."
Kuji called, but was met with an automated responder that told him that the number he was trying to call was unavailable - that the phone was either turned off or out of range.
Song's face clouded over. "Let's go together," he said as he opened the driver's side door.
When they pressed the buzzer at the entrance, Morimoto's voice answered.
"May I ask who this is?" Morimoto asked.
"Right on," Kuji murmured. But Song furrowed his brow. When Kuji tried to answer, Song stopped him.
"I'll talk to him," he said. "I'm sorry for visiting at such a late hour. I'm Song from Roppongi Church. We had the pleasure of talking to you the other day."
"Oh, yes, you must be the pastor from the other day," said Morimoto. The auto-lock clicked open and the two of them stepped inside. The reception desk was located right in front of the entrance, and Morimoto came out from the back.
"You're with him, too?" Morimoto asked when he spotted Kuji. "So, what brings you here, Pastor?"
"Priest," Song[SS3] corrected with a smile as he approached the man. "He says he's forgotten something here," he explained, referring to Kuji. "So I thought I might as well come and have a talk with you while we were here. We at the church provide advice and support to the unemployed and the reclusive. We were wondering if perhaps we could form a network with you and help you in some way."
Morimoto seemed to trust Song completely. "I don't want to keep you standing," he said. "Please, come on in."
Kuji watched the two of them disappear into the back before heading to the stairway. He had called minutes earlier to tell Ogura to meet him in the boiler room, since his roommates were probably already asleep. He opened the door and turned the light switch on.
"Ogura?" he called, but no one answered. He took a step forward and smelled an all-too-familiar odor. He almost turned back, sensing something wrong, but he decided against it. He crouched down, hid in the shadows of
the washing machines, and surveyed his surroundings. No one was there. Kuji got on his elbows and knees and kept his belly to the floor as he inched forward. A scene exactly like the one he had imagined emerged before his eyes.
"Oh, shit..." he murmured, but he knew that swearing would do no good.
Beyond the washing machines was a growing pool of blood, and Ogura lying on his back in the center of it. For a second, he looked like he was smiling - but when Kuji realized it was actually a gaping gash under his chin that looked like a mouth, a shudder went through his entire body.
He scrambled to take his cell phone out of his jumper and called Song.
"Yes?" answered Song's calm voice. Kuji was almost in tears.
"Shit, Song, this is really bad. It's him, he's... he's dead. Someone killed him."
"Oh, no...." There was a pause, but Song quickly issued his next words. "Stay there," he ordered.
Kuji hung up and hugged his knees. The minutes that passed felt like hours. Eventually he heard footsteps. He tensed, wondering if it was Ogura's killer, but it was Song who came through the door. To his surprise, Morimoto was with him. Song had the man in a Nelson hold, with both of his arms held up behind his head.
"Morimoto!" Kuji sprang up in surprise.
"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" Morimoto burst out. "Dragging me out like this? I'm calling the police!"
"Now's not the time for that," Song said quietly. "Masatake, where is he?"
"Here," Kuji said as he led them over. Morimoto shrieked when he saw the body in the pool of blood, and proceeded to burst into tears. When Song released his hold, the man slumped to the floor. Song looked down at him.
"Mr. Morimoto, please explain," he said calmly. "You let someone in before we came, didn't you? If you knew he was going to do this, you'd be guilty of aiding and abetting murder."
"Of course I didn't know!" Morimoto protested. "He just... asked to be let in, so I... oh my God, why did this have to happen? I never asked for this. I was only running an honest business."
Amazing Grace: Yaoi Novel Page 6
