by Amy Tasukada
“Oh, that’s right. I never introduced myself. I’m Saehyun.”
“Nice to meet you, Saehyun,” Nao said.
Saehyun laughed. The name felt like an oddity for Nao as he mentally toyed with it, repeating it until it felt like second nature. At least Saehyun was better company than Takeo, but an empty teapot was better company than Takeo.
“Why are you laughing?”
“It’s nothing,” said Saehyun.
Saehyun poked Kuma, touching her ear until she shook her head and meowed. “That was revenge.”
“Is that why you came, to get revenge on for my cat jumping on you?”
“Where do you keep your bowls?”
“Bowls?” Nao coughed.
“I told you already. I made juk.”
“Juk?”
Saehyun shook his head. “You Japanese are so stupid when it comes to things outside your tiny island.”
“No, I’m sick. You shouldn’t expect much from people who are sick.”
“I don’t expect much from any Japanese.”
“If you dislike us so much, why are you here?”
“I always repay my debts.”
Nao rubbed his head. “What?”
“The new debt is for me getting you sick because you saved me. So I made you juk, unless you’d rather I go down on you again.” Saehyun licked his lips. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Nao’s eyes widened, and Saehyun laughed. He stood up and walked toward the kitchen.
“Tell me what juk is already.”
“It’s porridge. I didn’t add too many sides since I wasn’t sure what you like. I went to that tea shop of yours, but the grandma there said you were sick at home. So I was right making some for you,” Saehyun called from the kitchen. “Almost mistook that waiter for you. Making him dress in old-man yukatas, he’ll never be able to pick up anyone there.”
“He’s working. He doesn’t need to pick up people, and yukatas aren’t just for old men.”
Apparently having heard a bustling in the kitchen, Kuma hopped down and went to see what was going on. Some company she was.
“Should I feed your cat? It looks like she’s going to eat my toes.”
“Don’t. She’s on a diet.”
The microwave buzzed. Saehyun came back with a light-green bowl.
“This isn’t a bowl.” Nao chuckled, his headache lessening.
“What? It’s totally a bowl.”
“It’s not for food. It’s for Japanese matcha tea.”
“It looks perfect for the juk.”
Nao stood up but felt dizzy and sat back on the bed. He rubbed his temples. It wasn’t the time to be in a fog. He needed to keep focused with Saehyun there, if for no other reason than to give him a good tongue-lashing for any inappropriate comments that were bound to spill from that talented mouth.
“You know, this bowl is over one hundred years old.”
“Oh, should I wash it off and find another?”
“It’s fine.” Nao shook his head. “Your juk is now a part of this bowl’s history. It’s the use that keeps it from dying.”
“That’s such shit.”
“I believe it to be true.”
“Eat without any of that old-man-on-his-deathbed crap.”
Their fingers brushed as Nao took the bowl. He started to apologize but realized how silly that was. Yet things were different from the first time Saehyun had been in his home. He’d brought porridge at the hint of Nao starting to become ill, the sort of thing lovers did for each other.
Nao couldn’t bear the thought of another person he cared about ending up dead because of his inability to protect him. But Saehyun could only be there for sex anyway, and if that was Nao’s only attachment to him, everything would be fine. According to Saehyun, he was only there to repay the debt. Once the porridge was finished, their relationship would be too.
Nao took a few bites of the thick, white porridge. A little bland, but Nao doubted his taste buds could handle anything else. It warmed him from the inside out. “This is good. Where did you get it?”
“I said I made it myself. You can’t get any good Korean in this town.”
“Oh.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I just…” He bit his lip. He couldn’t fathom why Saehyun would put such effort into caring for him. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, my mother always said juk cured every cold. She would immediately make it the moment I would sneeze, even.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah.” Saehyun nodded.
He looked into Saehyun’s eyes, then at his nose, heading down to his mouth. His gaze stayed there on his lips, unable to look away and to think of anything but those lips once again upon him. It was okay to want someone only for sex. Saehyun was the first person in years to even touch him, and to Saehyun it was nothing.
“My father had a saying about getting sick too,” Nao said between bites. “But I didn’t know about it until I was older.”
“Oh?”
“He said the best way to cure a cold was to have sex.” Nao grinned. One go-around with Saehyun would cement what Nao saw him as: a fuck and nothing more. A two-day stand was no reason to bring it up to Father.
“Really?”
“It’s true. Heating the blood helps kill the virus.”
“Maybe we should try both methods. The juk and sex,” said Saehyun.
Nao sighed. “I think it would be impossible.”
“So you are into girls? You kind of seemed—”
“No, I have that leaning.”
“What is it, then?” Saehyun put his hand on Nao’s outer thigh, and a tingling shot through Nao. “Is it because I’m Korean?”
“I don’t care that you’re Korean.” Nao sneezed and couldn’t believe that Saehyun was still singing that tune.
“Well?”
“I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“What? Why would I get hurt?”
“I don’t have any lube, and I don’t bottom people I just met.”
Saehyun’s mouth dropped. “You’re the one who is sick. You can’t top.”
Saehyun stood and opened the drawer of the bedside table. Nao slammed it shut before Saehyun could look inside. Nao needed to move the gun the moment Saehyun left.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t believe you. You have to have lube somewhere.”
“There’s a store around the corner if you’re that interested.” Nao needed time to hide the gun.
Saehyun grinned. “You think they have strawberry-flavored?”
Nao stopped along Kyoto’s Philosopher’s Path and envisioned the walk in spring. The cherry blossoms would engulf the paths with pink and white. The lightest of breezes would send the blossoms falling, creating a layer of petals on the river. Except it wasn’t spring, but summer. The path wasn’t crowded with picnickers there to view cherry blossoms but rather with tourists for the upcoming festivals. Memories of spring were good. At least then Takeo hadn’t been following him, but each step he took pounded in the fact that he was behind him.
“You really do this each week?” Takeo said, waking Nao from his trance.
“I’ve been stuck in bed a week getting over my cold. It’s nice to finally get out and clear my head.”
“You’re a tea merchant. What do you need to clear your head about?”
Even on the path, Nao couldn’t escape Takeo, but at least he’d allowed Nao a few hours alone when Saehyun came by with the porridge. Claiming that Saehyun was the guy he was dating was a small lie, but Nao could contain it. He was a two-night stand for Saehyun to repay his debt. Nao rolled his eyes. Was every Korean obsessed with the idea of owing people debts?
Nao walked on, ignoring Takeo’s question. If only Nao co
uld ignore everything he said.
“You spent the last two days in bed,” Takeo continued, “while your cat bothered me for feedings before the sun rose.”
“Then tell Father you want an apartment next to me like before.”
“I can only hope that next week Father will see no one cares enough to do anything to you, and I can go back to protecting my ward.”
Nao rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t Takeo shut up for the thirty minutes it took to walk? Didn’t he understand that only in the silence and steady steps could Nao contain his overflowing thoughts?
“You do know Father is expecting us sometime today.”
“We have to finish the path first,” Nao said. “After that, I should buy Father some sweets. I wasn’t able to get him anything good last time, so we’ll be going to the historic district.”
“Your ‘walking the path’ turned into a two-hour detour from going to headquarters. You might not care what’s going on with the others, but I would like to know how the ward I’ve been forced to neglect for the past three days is doing.”
“If you trained your men correctly, you wouldn’t be so worried.”
Nao stepped up his pace, but Takeo grabbed his arm, keeping his own still.
“The underworld has changed since you left. Most of the cities have been carved up by the Koreans, and now they’re here in Kyoto. Let’s go already.”
“I have to finish the walk, Takeo.”
Nao pulled his arm away, but pain shot through it from Takeo’s forceful grip. In the seconds following, Takeo’s grip only tightened, as if he were disciplining a child. Nao didn’t grimace, though, as Takeo’s nails dug in. Instead, Nao forced a smile, not wanting to give Takeo the satisfaction of realizing how much pain he inflicted.
“Who was the Korean that came by the other day? He’s some host you’re screwing?”
“I told you, he’s the guy I’m seeing.”
“This isn’t like before. You have to listen to me!”
After pulling his arm from Takeo’s grip, Nao walked past him. It wasn’t as though Saehyun was coming back or that he meant anything more to Nao. Nao had no reason to admit the lie, especially right before going to Father’s. Takeo sped up and stood in front of him, leaving Nao no way of escape.
“Who is he?”
Nao shook his head. “When did this all start?”
“It started last week when you waltzed back into the headquarters like you were someone important.”
“When did Double Moon start the turf war?”
Takeo laughed. “The Koreans are stupid and tried to move in. Their main branch is in Osaka.”
“But the Osaka yakuza are our allies, why not use them for help?” Nao asked.
“We can handle ourselves.”
Nao returned his attention to the walk. The path called him, yet each step didn’t hide his memories like they always did but ignited them. Saehyun’s touch reminded him of his past lover. The nights and days together they shared.
No. There was no reason to get attached, to have an affair of the heart. Saehyun desired him for sex, and with the bringing porridge for getting him sick was the last debt Saehyun was repaying.
“You still didn’t answer me. Nao, tell me.”
“Stop it!” Nao yelled. “You’re being too informal with me.”
“What? Would you rather I call you little brother like Sakai and Oyama? They’re doing that to suck up to Father. You left the syndicate. You haven’t drunk sake with us in four years. You’re the same teenage brat as before.”
It was Takeo bringing up so many memories. Nao’s eyes widened. He couldn’t see past that night. He couldn’t see the Aoi Festival in the weeks coming up. His heart pounded thinking of that night. He was so weak, and in the past his lover had paid for it. The far-off look in his eyes while Nao could do nothing to help replayed in his mind.
“Look.” Nao slowed his breath to catch his racing heart. “If you’re worried you’ll have to sit at a host bar as he pours my drinks, then you’re wrong.”
“So he’s another host you’re dating? You avoided telling me because you didn’t want me ruining your little romance.”
Nao’s cheeks grew hot. “That’s absolutely none of your business.”
He wanted Takeo to let him finish walking the path in silence. Couldn’t he see how important it was for him? And that if he didn’t complete it, his emotions would overflow like cups in a Chinese tea ceremony? He needed all the thoughts of Saehyun and the past to be pushed back into the darkness. How could he let Takeo bring up so many bad memories?
“You know all hosts are after money and nothing else.”
“Enough.”
“That’s probably why he came by when you were sick. Making sure you didn’t forget to visit the host bar once you got better. So he can pour your drinks and make it seem like you’re the most interesting person in the world, when all they want is to get you drunk enough to order the most expensive thing on the menu, just so they can get a higher commission.”
The memories consumed Nao. The glossed-over look in his lover’s eyes as Nao was held down and forced to watch. Then red, nothing but red, flooded his vision, and as quickly as Nao tried to run away, Takeo kept on his heels.
“I can take care of myself! I have been for many years!” Nao yelled, not caring about the looks he received.
“I don’t answer to you.”
“I’m not hotheaded like I was before.”
“Then talk to Father about it. I would be happy to stop, but I’m not going to lose another finger because of you. For now, I am your shadow, so deal with it, little brother.”
Takeo’s gaze pierced through him. Nao looked away to the footbridge, the muddy slope, and the tree branches uprooting the ancient stones. He needed them to heal over like the scar. He looked at the branches above him to see the umbrella he’d dropped that night dangling from the tree branch. He’d met Saehyun there. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t turn back into the person he was in the past, but at least that person wouldn’t wake trapped in a nightmare.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Nao steadied his thoughts and pointed to his umbrella in the tree. With a hop, he could get it, but that wasn’t the point today.
“Takeo, that’s my umbrella. Get it for me.”
“Get it yourself.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Too late to apologize for acting like a brat.”
Nao cleared his throat before starting, “I’m sorry that Father would believe anything I say more than you. After all, your connection with him has to be renewed over sake each year while I can leave for four years and get one of his ward leaders as my bodyguard. Now get the umbrella.”
Nao stood back, not moving a single step as Takeo reached up and grabbed ahold of the umbrella. He handed it to Nao, who glared at him until he looked away. The small act might’ve been silly, but it made Takeo bend to Nao’s will.
A motorcycle whizzed by Nao and Takeo as they walked the final block to the Matsukawa headquarters. Nao’s umbrella was hooked around his wrist, and a cloth-wrapped package of three mamemochi rice cakes dangled from the other. Takeo said nothing as they walked, but Nao sensed his gaze boring into his back, recalling every moment of their past. Nao shook his head; it wasn’t the time to dwell on his mistakes.
They came to the wooden gate of the headquarters. A box sat beside it wrapped in silver paper with a large red bow on it, a card tucked to the side. Nao opened the card.
“It’s from the historic district shopkeepers, a gift for all the help we’ll give them during the summer festivals,” Nao said.
Nao picked up the box and waited there until the gate buzzed and opened. They followed the garden path until they came to the door of the headquarters. It opened as they approached, recruits bowing and welcoming them in cheerful unison.
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“Is Yori back yet?” Takeo asked. “I want to know what’s been going on while babysitting.”
“We still haven’t been able to contact him.”
“And Father has me watching his son during all of this.”
“Father Murata requested you go upstairs once you arrived.”
Nao stepped into the offered slippers. Takeo did the same, and they both started up the stairs. The recruit cleared his throat, making them both stop.
“Father only requested Nao to go up.”
“Are you serious?” Takeo shook his head and headed back downstairs. “Go get me a beer.”
Grinning, Nao finished his climb up the stairs to Father’s office. He stopped outside the door, taking a moment to balance the gift box along with the sweets in one arm. Three voices came from beyond the door—Oyama, Sakai, and Father. Something was wrong if all three of them were there at once. Miko was the underboss. Working directly under Father, she acted as the go-between for the legal and street sides of the syndicate. The arrangement allowed Father to talk to her, and then she would carry his word to the other branches so that they would not lose face in front of their godfather.
Nao pressed his ear to the door and listened. Their words were muffled, and he heard only a few words here and there. All he could make out was a discussion on territory. Nao found it futile to listen anymore.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting,” Nao said after gaining permission to open the door. “I was told to come up once I got here.”
Nao gave a respectful bow before sitting next to Oyama. Papers were scattered on Father’s desk, a map of Kyoto taking up the majority of the surface. Hand-drawn circles were scattered about the historic district and a few in the outlying countryside. Father folded the map in half, covering the marks.
“Where’s Miko?” Nao asked.
“Jailed a few weeks ago,” Oyama said.
“How? I thought we had a deal with the police?”
“The Koreans framed her. It was impossible for the detective we work with to overlook, and our legal team found no way they could get her charges dropped,” Sakai added.
“Unfortunately,” Murata spoke up, “they’re moving her to Hokkaido at the end of the month because of her connection with us. I have yet to find a proper replacement. Until then, Sakai and Oyama are meeting with me together.”
