Villain a Novel (2010)

by Yoshida Shuichi

  Miho had had a lot of older clients recently. Although she knew that this wasn’t the type of business where you could choose your customers, and that she would just have to get used to it, she was starting to get fed up with this life, with all these men who could only get it up after a tremendous effort on her part.

  Miho took Yuichi’s hand and had him stand under the lukewarm shower. The water slid down his shoulders to his chest, wetting his almost painfully erect penis.

  “Are you off work today?” Miho asked as she scrubbed his back with a soapy sponge. He was tense and she was hoping this would help him relax.

  “Or maybe you’re still in college?” she asked, rinsing the bubbles from his back.

  “No, I’ve got a job,” Yuichi finally replied.

  “You must be into sports. You’re so muscular.” Miho didn’t really care, but had to keep the conversation going.

  With barely a word, Yuichi just stood there, staring at her hand, looking terribly serious.

  When Miho was about to touch his soapy penis, Yuichi quickly twisted away from her. His penis was pulsing, as if a single touch was all it would take for him to come.

  “Don’t be shy. That’s the kind of place this is.” As Miho smiled, half fed up, Yuichi suddenly grabbed the showerhead from her and rinsed the rest of his body himself.

  She wiped him dry with a bath towel and sent him on ahead into the room. One of the rules was to make sure to wipe clean the entire bathroom after using it. After cleaning up the bathroom she returned to their room and found Yuichi, towel still wrapped around his waist, standing there, his clothes in his hands.

  “Are you from Nagasaki?” Miho asked. She’d never asked a client anything private before, but the words just slipped out.

  Yuichi hesitated a moment, then told her the name of a town outside the city that she’d never heard of.

  “I only moved here a half a year ago, so I’m afraid I don’t know much about the area.” At her words, Yuichi’s face clouded over slightly.

  Miho guided Yuichi to the bed and had him lie down. She removed the bath towel and there was his penis, looking like a coyote off in the distance, head raised and about to howl.

  Truth be told, she was sure he would be a one-time-only client. After they came out of the shower, it took only three minutes for him to finish up, and though Miho had suggested that there was enough time left to do it again, Yuichi hurriedly slipped on his clothes and left.

  Even for a first visit to such a place, he didn’t seem to enjoy himself much. He hadn’t even waited for her to wipe him off, and appeared eager to get away. Still, two days later he was back again, asking for Miho without even glancing at the folder of other girls’ photos. The manager called her, and when she entered the room she found him seated on the bed this time, as if used to the place. This was a weekday evening and the massage parlor was crowded.

  “Oh, you came back!” She smiled pleasantly, and Yuichi gave a slight nod and held out a plastic bag to her.

  “What is that?” Afraid that it might be some weird sex toy, Miho cautiously accepted the bag. As soon as she did she let out a shriek, for the bag was warm.

  She was about to toss it aside when Yuichi muttered, “It’s butaman, pork buns. The place where I bought them has the best ones.”

  “Butaman?” Miho made an effort not to throw it aside. “For me?” she asked, and Yuichi gave a slight nod.

  On occasion she’d received presents from other clients, but when they were food it was the usual cookies and chocolates. Getting hot food was a first.

  Miho looked a bit stunned, and Yuichi asked, “What, you don’t like butaman?”

  “No, I do,” Miho replied.

  Yuichi took the bag from her and opened it on his lap. For a second he seemed to be looking around for small plates to use, though it was highly unlikely a tiny room in a massage parlor would have any.

  As soon as he ripped open the plastic bag the hot, meaty, yeasty odor filled the windowless room. Through the thin walls they heard a man’s vulgar laugh.

  After this he came back three days in a row.

  According to the manager, when Miho was off duty Yuichi didn’t choose another girl, but instead walked away, shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  Miho had no idea what it was about her that kept Yuichi returning. The first time she’d just done the usual things to him and hadn’t made him particularly satisfied. But then two days later, here he was back again, looking totally unconcerned, with a bag of hot butaman as a present.

  In the cramped room the two of them ate the butaman. Their conversation never went anywhere. To Miho’s questions, Yuichi gave only short, evasive answers, and never asked her anything himself.

  “Are you on your way home from work?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Your job’s nearby?”

  “We work in all kinds of places. Construction sites.”

  Before he came to see her Yuichi always stopped home and took a bath first.

  “We have a shower, so you should just come straight here from work.”

  Yuichi didn’t reply.

  That day, after they’d finished the butaman, Miho took him to the shower. He wasn’t as hesitant as before, though he still turned away when she tried to touch his soapy penis.

  Yuichi invariably chose the most popular forty-minutes-for-¥5,800 menu. Subtracting the time they were in the shower, that left them a scant thirty minutes alone, but that was usually more than enough for the client to get what he came for.

  Whenever there was any time left over, most clients, greedy to get their money’s worth, wanted to do it a second time. But Yuichi came soon after they took a shower, and when she tried to touch him afterward, he rebuffed her. He was content for them to just rest their heads on their arms and gaze up at the ceiling.

  He was an easy client. The more he visited her, the more relaxed she became with him, even nodding off occasionally as she lay there staring at the ceiling. And before long, Yuichi began to open up more about himself.

  The next time he brought her cakes. He always brought something to eat and they would share the food in the cramped little room. She grew more used to him, and rather than insist on a shower, she started making cold tea or coffee for him at the start of each session.

  It was probably the fifth, or maybe the sixth, time he paid her a visit that he brought a homemade box lunch for them. It was the afternoon of a holiday.

  Ah, so he’s brought something again, she thought, taking the paper bag from him, but when she opened it she found a two-tier lunch box with a picture of Snoopy on it.

  “A box lunch?” Miho couldn’t keep from asking in surprise, and Yuichi shyly lifted the lid.

  The top tier contained fried omelets, sausages, chicken nuggets, and potato salad. The layer below was packed with rice, and different colored furikake flakes, each carefully separated from the other.

  As she took the lunch box from him, for an instant the idea flashed before her that Yuichi had a girlfriend, that this girlfriend had made him the lunch but he was giving it to her. But when she asked, “Why did you bring me this?” Yuichi, shyly looking down, muttered, “I’m afraid it might not be so good.…”

  “You mean you made it?” Miho couldn’t help asking in surprise as Yuichi pulled apart a pair of disposable chopsticks and passed them over.

  “The chicken nuggets are leftover ones my grandmother made last night.…”

  Miho looked at Yuichi, astonished. Yuichi sat there, like a child awaiting the results of a test, waiting for Miho to taste it.

  Miho had already heard that he lived with his grandparents. She never wanted to know about her clients’ background, so she hadn’t asked any more.

  “No kidding? You really made this yourself?”

  Miho picked up a piece of the fluffy omelets with her chopsticks. They tasted slightly sweet.

  “I like omelets with a bit of sugar in them,” Yuichi explained, and Miho replied, “I like swe
et omelets, too.”

  “The potato salad’s really good.”

  It wasn’t as if they were on some spring picnic in a park. They were in a tiny, windowless room in a massage parlor, a stack of tissue boxes to one side.

  After this day Yuichi always brought homemade box lunches with him when he came to see her.

  When he asked her about her shift, she’d tell him her schedule, and say things like “I’m usually hungriest around nine.” Before she knew it she was looking forward to his box lunches.

  “Nobody really taught me how to cook, but I picked it up. I kind of like to watch my grandma prepare fish, though I hate all the cleaning up afterward.…”

  Yuichi said all this as he watched Miho, in her gaudy negligee, eating the box lunch.

  His lunches really were tasty, and Miho started to put in requests. “Can you include the hikiji like last time?” she’d ask.

  After they finished eating Yuichi liked to lie beside her, hands behind his head.

  As she reviewed the lunch they’d just eaten, Miho would play with his penis. She was paid for her services, of course, but she also felt she needed to thank him for the tasty food.

  “You never ask to see me outside of here, do you?” she asked once, just after the alarm went off signaling that they had five minutes left. Miho’s hand was inside his underpants, and Yuichi was busily kneading her breasts.

  “Most regular customers always invite us out. It’s like, Hey, let’s go on a date next time.”

  Yuichi didn’t reply, so Miho asked him again. At that instant, Yuichi’s fingers suddenly stopped moving over her breasts.

  “What do you mean, invite you? You mean like we meet outside of here!?”

  Yuichi was seething. To Miho it felt as though his fingers were speaking, for they squeezed her breasts hard, not so hard they hurt, but hard enough.

  She twisted away. “I’m not going to date you. No way,” she announced, and got out of bed. Yuichi roughly grabbed her arm.

  “Just seeing you here is enough for me,” Yuichi said. “We can be by ourselves here. Just the two of us, with nobody bothering us.”

  “Well, for forty minutes, at least,” Miho said, laughing.

  “Then next time I’ll do the hour menu,” Yuichi said, looking serious.

  At first she thought he was joking, but he didn’t smile.

  It was time for lights out on the ward, and the nurse came by to switch off the overhead light. Miho lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Yuichi, but as soon as the lights were off, she slipped out of bed.

  In the bed nearest the entrance there was still a small light on; it seemed as if that was the only place where time still flowed. Through the curtain she could see the shadow of somebody reading. Behind the curtain was a girl attending a local junior college, who’d had liver problems since she was young. She had darkish skin but a cute face. It was clear she’d been raised in a loving family.

  Miho went out of the ward, trying not to make a sound in her slippers, and headed toward the bank of elevators. In the hallway was a line of orange vinyl tape indicating the toilets and bathroom.

  She got into one of the oversize elevators, big enough to accommodate gurneys. As she descended she was hit by the sensation that the whole building was ascending and she alone was standing still.

  On the first floor the old lady was still soothing the little boy, but the place was otherwise quiet, the only sound the hum of the vending machine.

  Even if she saw Yuichi, it wasn’t as if there was anything she wanted to talk with him about. She’d been the one who trampled on his feelings, and she couldn’t very well face him now. Maybe two weeks in the hospital with hardly anyone coming to see her had weakened her will.

  Still, she wanted to say something to him, especially after seeing him helping an old man into the hospital. If he could only tell her he was all right, that he was going out with an ordinary girl now. She’d been cruel when she broke up with him, and if he told her that, she felt that she could be forgiven for the way she’d acted.

  Even though she worked for a massage parlor, Yuichi had rented an apartment on his own and had wanted them to live together.

  As Miho watched her soothing the boy in the baby carriage, the old woman suddenly turned and said, “It’s nice and quiet here so I can relax.” She’d seen the old woman a number of times, but this was the first time she’d spoken to her.

  Still wondering if she was going to see Yuichi again, Miho stiffened and approached the old woman, as if drawn to her. It was the first time she’d looked at the little boy up close. She’d imagined how twisted his body was, but the reality was far worse, and his weak, unfocused eyes wandered.

  “Hey there, Mamoru.” Miho rubbed the boy’s frail arm.

  The old woman gave her a suspicious look, apparently wondering how she knew the boy’s name.

  “The nurse called him that,” Miho explained quickly, and the old woman, looking satisfied, said, “Mamoru’s a popular little boy, now, aren’t you? Everybody knows you.” She stroked the boy’s sweaty forehead as she spoke.

  “If you rub him like this it takes away some of the pain,” the old woman said, stroking the limp little boy’s shoulder. The vending machine started humming a bit more loudly.

  Lots of things to say sprang to Miho’s mind, but for some reason she couldn’t say them. She sat down next to the old woman and, following her lead, rubbed the arms and legs sticking out of the baby carriage.

  Just then the elevator door slid open and Yuichi came out. The old man wasn’t with him now, and he had a sullen look on his face, hands stuck in his jeans pockets. Yuichi glanced in Miho’s direction but apparently didn’t notice her. He looked away and strode off.

  “Yuichi!” Miho called out to him, as his retreating figure headed toward the entrance that was soon to be locked up for the night. Yuichi halted, startled for a second, and turned around guardedly. Miho stood up from the bench and looked directly at him.

  The little boy’s leg, which she’d just been rubbing, brushed against her thigh. It moved, as if he was asking her to rub him some more.

  The moment Yuichi’s eyes met hers the strength drained out of him. Without thinking, though she was still standing far away, Miho reached out her hand to him.

  She hurriedly went over to him. She could see his face grow paler with each step.

  “Are you—okay?” she asked, taking his arm. She’d just been holding the little boy’s arm, and for an instant the feeling gave her goose bumps. “I saw you a little while ago bringing in an old man and so I waited here for you.”

  For a second the thought struck Miho that he wasn’t bringing the old man to the hospital, but that it was Yuichi himself who was sick.

  “Anyway, why don’t we just sit down for a while?”

  Miho tugged at his arm but he shrugged loose as if trying to get away.

  “It’s not like I’m trying to apologize or anything,” she said. “It’s been two years, after all.… It’s just that I haven’t seen you in so long, and it brings back lots of memories.”

  She’d gotten closer than she’d realized and took a step back. The color slowly returned to Yuichi’s pale face.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to keep you,” Miho apologized.

  She wanted him to tell her that he was okay now. That’s all she wanted to hear, why she’d called out to him. But the instant Yuichi had spotted her, he’d blanched.

  She could only conclude that Yuichi still hadn’t forgiven her. She’d called out to him, thinking that the passage of time had softened things, only to be struck by the realization that that was the self-centered thinking of someone who’d betrayed another person.

  “I, uh … have to get going,” Yuichi managed to say, glancing at the entrance.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have …” Miho apologized.

  It was obvious he had no feelings for her anymore, but still Miho found his attitude cold.

  Yuichi hurriedly
exited the hospital. His figure as he headed toward the parking lot was lit up in the moonlight. The parking lot was nearby, Miho knew, but to her it looked as if he were heading somewhere far, far away. As if he were making his way toward another night altogether, one that lay beyond the present.

  Yuichi disappeared into the lot. As if they hadn’t just seen each other for the first time in two years, he didn’t turn around, not once.

  Three days had passed since the murder at Mitsuse Pass and all the TV talk shows were filled with reports on the incident. No matter what channel you turned to, there was the cold winter pass, the usual reporters standing in front of it as they professed their hatred for the murderer and his crime.

  The talk show reports all basically boiled down to the same story line: A twenty-one-year-old woman working for an insurance company in Fukuoka City was murdered and her body was dumped at Mitsuse Pass. At approximately ten-thirty that night the woman said goodbye to her colleagues near the apartment building their company leased and went to see her boyfriend at a place a three-minute walk away. The boyfriend had not been heard from since. The police were looking for him as a material witness, but according to his friends, he’d been missing the past three or four days.

  Along with the summary of the murder details scrolling along the screen, the TV showed scenes of the freezing pass to dramatize the cruelty of the deed. In contrast, when they discussed the missing boyfriend, relating how he was the most popular student on campus, how he drove an expensive foreign car and lived alone in a condo in a high-end section of Fukuoka, the screen was filled with lively scenes from the upscale Tenjin and Nakasu neighborhoods. To viewers it was obvious from the newscasters’ tones that it was 99 percent certain that this boyfriend was the criminal.

  Kanji Hayashi, an instructor at a local juku, a prep school, was one of these viewers. As he stared fixedly at the TV screen in his apartment, he didn’t seem to notice that the piece of toast with marmalade in his hand was growing cold. It was three p.m., about time he had to get going or else he’d be late to class, but he remained glued to his chair.