"You, um... you do use a condom, right?"
"Damnit, I do! Just leave me alone!"
The burning knot in Kuji's chest stirred up a surge of emotions that burst out of him in a yell.
"It's all your fault!" he shouted. "If you'd sleep with me, I wouldn't have to go and find someone else!" I wouldn't have to moan as Nango fucks me. I would've been spared from stroking his ego and making him think he's not as clumsy as he is.
And he has the nerve to tell me that I look like I enjoy his cock. Fucking bastard. It's not like I have a choice. It's because Song won't sleep with me.
"It's all your fault!"
He knew his anger was misdirected, but he couldn't help but direct it at something. He clung to Song as he yelled.
"Just once, come on! You probably suck, anyway, right? Just sleep with me once, and I'll know how bad you are and I won't have to think about you like this all the time. After that, I promise I'll never ask again. Set me free, will you?"
Song was silent as he circled his arms around Kuji. He wrapped him in an embrace as if he were soothing a child with a tantrum.
"Maybe you're right. Masatake, I'm sorry."
Song then sat down on the floor. Kuji ended up in his lap.
Kuji swore as he pulled down his fly and pulled his manhood out of his pants. He desperately pumped his penis, flaccid from being wrung dry earlier. He rubbed its tip against Song's robes. He half-expected to be pushed away, but Song continued to stroke his back.
Kuji's penis was slow to harden. Frustrated, he dug his nails into the head. A little pain always made it feel good. Eventually some liquid began to dribble from his member, and made wet sounds as his hands fondled it. Kuji looked at Song with teary eyes.
"Aren't you gonna get angry?"
Song said nothing as he held Kuji's head to his chest. Kuji felt his whole body being wrapped in warmth and comfort.
Kuji pulled his pants down to his thighs and began to stroke his penis with both hands. Once in a while, he rubbed its glistening tip against Song's clothes.
"Ahh, nnh——! So—good—ahh!"
Kuji let go of all restraint as he moaned loudly in pleasure and moved his fingers vigorously. When he closed his eyes, he saw the same light that he always did. The dazzling light came cascading down upon him from on high. Encompassed in its glow, Kuji called the name of the man he loved.
They held each other as they lay on the floor of the kitchen. Kuji woke from his shallow slumber and looked up at the man who held him.
Anything the man said now would have made him feel embarrassed. Kuji hastily averted his eyes. But Song said nothing as he continued to stroke his back. He wished they could be like this forever.
Kuji resolutely sat up, rearranged himself, and extracted himself from Song's arms. He pulled up his pants, putting away his now-drooping penis. He looked at the man's white clothing, which he had splattered with cum.
"I made it dirty."
"That's all right. I just have to put it in the wash."
Even though Kuji hadn't said a word of apology, Song still understood. The thought made Kuji rub his eyes hastily as they began to water. He didn't want to embarrass himself any more in front of Song.
"Take it off, then. I'll put it in the wash before it stains," Kuji said as he took the surplice from Song. The topic of laundry reminded him of something else. "Say, I decided to do laundry work at that place."
"Laundry?"
"At Morimoto's."
Kuji then remembered Nango's words.
"Why are you so hung up on him?" he asked. Song got to his feet and walked toward the coffee maker. He turned it on and turned back to face Kuji with a grave expression on his face.
"Homeless people, as you probably know, have no one to turn to. Some people try to take advantage of that. Maybe Internet cafe refugees are slightly different, but you can never be too careful."
Although Kuji wasn't quite sure what the man meant, he remembered Nango's words. People from the North.
"Does it... have something to do with your country? With abduction?"
Song widened his eyes for a moment. Kuji inwardly regretted it. He wasn't supposed to know that Cheon-wang was in the North.
But Song nonetheless turned a pair of calm eyes to Kuji.
"It might be, it might not be. It's not only abduction. I've met many people from many different countries through NPOs and Emmaus, and I've heard about the kind of crimes that people from impoverished countries get caught up in."
Kuji wondered what that had to do with people not having family to turn to, but he could not bring himself to pursue it further.
"I see."
Kuji headed to the bathroom with the surplice in hand. He tossed it into the washing machine that was in the adjacent change room. While he was at it, he took off everything he was wearing and tossed it in the wash as well.
He gazed at the water swirling inside the machine as he thought - about how he had masturbated in Song's lap.
It had felt so good because Song was watching over him. Even though he hadn't been able to get the man to penetrate him. The man had still let Kuji pleasure himself. He hadn't gotten angry when Kuji had called his name when he came.
He figured the man probably pitied him. But he didn't care. He decided that from now on, whenever he got in the mood, he would think about Song while he pleasured himself. Song had let him, at least.
Until now, whenever he had masturbated while thinking about Song, he had always felt degradation and regret. But now that he knew Song would forgive him for it, he knew he could do it without feeling ashamed. This was enough. At least for him.
I know. When Nango fucks me, I'll just think about Song when I come. Kuji smiled to himself while he closed the door of the washing machine. He realized his limbs felt light and he could move them with ease, even though they had been hurt and had felt leaden and heavy before.
As Kuji emerged from his daydream, the cold air chilled his stark-naked body. He sneezed as he made his way up to the second floor. Once he lay down on his bed, numerous thoughts rose in his mind.
Nango had said that Song was a sleeper for the North.
But if he was, why would he be occupied about Morimoto? Wouldn't he only draw suspicion by mentioning things that could be connected to abduction? In that sense, Kuji felt almost certain that there was no way that Song would be from the North.
Nango was wrong, he thought.
But that was all right - if it meant he could continue to be with Song.
He would do everything he could for the man to make him happy. He would prove to Song that he was useful. That way, if he escaped from Nango, Song would probably let him stay here. I don't believe in God, but I believe in you. You forgive and accept everything about me.
No matter what horrible things I've done.
In his dreams, Kuji was playing the organ with Song.
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.
Chapter 5
Regular users of Asylum Net were mostly in their twenties and thirties, with the occasional person in their forties who had just been laid off. Morimoto also ran a job posting website on the Internet, and actively introduced regulars to the employers registered there.
The lucky ones who were able to snag a job would go out and come back late at night. When they had free time, they chatted with their roommates. A sense of community, so rare among young people of today, blossomed here. Some roommates would move out to rent an apartment together. Once they rented a place, they would be able to enroll in health insurance. It was a chance for them to move up from the lowest rungs of society.
There were still few people who had reached the next milestone beyond that - permanent, full time employment - but Kuji felt that this system worked.
Then, what was the problem?
Just as he was thinking of telli
ng Song that there was nothing to be suspicious about, it happened.
A youth named Ogura, who had been staying at the shelter for three months now, approached Kuji. He had asked Kuji to do his laundry a number of times, and on this day, too, he came down to the basement boiler room with his laundry bag in hand.
"You can leave it there," said Kuji, in the midst of tossing someone else's laundry into the machine. Ogura fidgeted on the spot.
"Hey," he said, "do you remember Yoshida? He was here for about six months, remember?"
It had been less than a month since Kuji had begun working here. Perhaps because of his job as an S, he was better than most at remembering names and faces. But even then, he was not able to recall Yoshida.
"You know I only come into the basement for a little bit every day, right?" Kuji said. "Everyone's out working when I come in during the day. How should I know about him?"
"Yeah, but he was a bit of a clean freak," Ogura replied. "He put out his laundry every day."
Kuji was finally able to conjure a vague mental image. He remembered Yoshida was a little heavyset and bespectacled, with an appearance of a stereotypical otaku, or geek. Now that Ogura mentioned it, he hadn't seen the young man for a while. But there were many people like that.
"Are you sure he didn't just move out into an apartment somewhere because he had enough money?"
Ogura shook his head firmly. "That can't be."
"How do you even know? Are you guys best friends, or something?"
"No, but... I have proof." Ogura brought a closed fist out from behind his back, stuck it under Kuji's nose, and opened his hand slowly.
"Huh?" Kuji said.
"Don't you know what this is? It's Darth Vader."
"Yeah, I know that. But what about it?"
"He and I are both huge fans of action figures and figurines. You know what I'm getting at, right?" Ogura said with a look of derision. Kuji almost threw a punch at him, but managed to hold off and nod instead.
"So?"
"See, you don't get it. This is super rare. The only thing he'd treasure more is his life!" Ogura burst out loudly. He caught himself and hastily put his hand over his mouth. Kuji was a little exasperated to see someone get so worked up about nothing in this day and age. He turned away from the boy in front of him.
"I'm busy. We can talk later."
"Wait! You're the only one I can talk to," Ogura said, pulling at his sleeve.
"Go to Morimoto. He's the boss of this place."
"I can't. He's probably one of them."
Kuji turned around and saw fear in Ogura's eyes. He closed the door of the washing machine and jerked his chin.
"This way," he said, and led the boy behind an unused boiler, where they both sat down.
"What are you talking about?" he asked once they were settled.
"You know about urban legends? There's one going around among Internet cafe refugees. They say if you keep on wandering around like this, someday you'll get kidnapped and taken somewhere."
"Kidnapped..." Kuji felt some flags go up his mind. But they were talking about nothing more than an urban legend.
Ogura looked panicked at Kuji's unconvinced look. "That's why I'm saying, isn't it weird that Yoshida's gone?" he insisted.
"Like I said, some guys move out to rent an apartment. Other ones go back to the countryside. Some of them actually become homeless. Maybe he's gone and done one of those."
"But I think he would take this along." The little Darth Vader on the palm of the boy's hand looked anything but valuable. But for an action figure fanatic, perhaps it was.
"Then, maybe he left his stuff behind to stay overnight somewhere else because he's doing an overnight shift at work."
Ogura shook his head.
"His locker and bunk bed are all cleaned out. The locker had the key back inside, and it was empty."
"Isn't that weird?" Kuji asked. "You mean he didn't keep his precious action figure in his locker?"
Ogura yet again gave him a look of scorn. "He used to keep this on the frame of his bunk bed and look at it until he fell asleep. His figurines are his life. Of course he would keep it in close reach."
Ogura had been on the top bunk of the same bed, and when they found out that they both shared the same interest in "geek" or "Akihabara" pop culture, they had hit it off and shared stories about their upbringing as well.
"I'm an Evangelion fan, though," Ogura said, his nostrils flaring proudly. Kuji had no response for that.
"Can you get on with the rest of the story? Besides, where did you even find that?"
"I was just about to tell you," Ogura said sullenly, and resumed. "I was lying on my bed writing my resume when I dropped my pen."
He had climbed down from the bunk bed and gotten down on the floor to look at the gap between the bottom bunk and the floor.
"That's when I found it. It was on the floor. There's definitely something wrong with that. He would never leave it lying on the floor like that. He was always careful not to drop it, and when other people touched it by mistake, he'd get really angry."
Kuji felt he had a point. The figurine was small enough to be hidden in one's closed fist.
"When was the last time you saw that Yoshida guy?"
"Five days ago. He said Mr. Morimoto found him a good job, and he was really stoked. He hadn't been working for about a week that time. He was pretty eager to go back. But he didn't come home that day. I had the late shift on the cash register at the convenience store, and even when I came home after that, he still hadn't come back."
"And you haven't seen him since?"
Ogura nodded.
"And when I looked the next day, his things and his sheets were gone, too. I hadn't found his Darth Vader yet, so I thought he'd moved out. I was kind of pissed that he didn't even say bye, but I figured that was how things went."
"You had other roommates, right? Did you ask them?"
Ogura shrugged. "I did just in case, but no one saw him leave."
Nango would probably have done a better interrogation. But Kuji had no idea what else he could ask. He tried to sort through his thoughts.
"Okay. So, one: Yoshida left. Two: His Darth Vader was left behind. We can't say for sure that Yoshida was abducted based on just these two things. But there's one solid fact that we can deduce. Yoshida wasn't the one who cleaned out his belongings. Correct?"
Ogura widened his eyes. "I see. Wow, you're smart."
"I just sorted out what you told me. There's a possibility[m1] that Yoshida was too busy and asked someone else to bring his stuff for him. But I don't think so. He would probably tell that person to bring the Darth Vader, no matter what. If the guy that packed for him forgot, Yoshida would probably come fetch it himself, or he would contact you and tell you to keep it safe."
"You're smart," Ogura said again, impressed. Kuji wondered what else he could think of. There was a phrase - one he heard on television often.
"The police have affirmed the possibility of foul play in this incident."
But if Yoshida had been abducted or disappeared as a result of foul play, would he bother to come and retrieve his belongings?
No. Someone had come to fetch them so as not to generate suspicion. If Ogura hadn't found the Darth Vader figurine, everyone would have assumed that Yoshida had simply moved out. Which meant that the person who had come to retrieve Yoshida's belonging had also gotten him involved in something sinister.
"Hey, remember how you said Morimoto might be 'one of them'? What do you mean by that?"
"Because he told me that Yoshida came to pick up his own stuff," Ogura answered. "He lied."
"He told you directly?"
"Yeah."
"When was that? Just now?"
Ogura nodded. Kuji could barely restrain himself from calling Ogura an idiot. He could have asked immediately after Yoshida left, and it would have been no problem. But asking now would almost make him seem like he had caught on to the disappearance.
If Morimoto really was one of the abductors, Ogura's question would have put him on guard. Yoshida's disappearance had already become an accomplished fact in Kuji's mind. And his final conclusion was that Yoshida had disappeared as a result of foul play.
But what kind of foul play? Was it what Song had been worried about? Kuji had no idea how to go from there. He stuck his hand out toward Ogura.
"I'll keep the Darth Vader for now."
Ogura handed it over to him without a moment's hesitation. "Sure," he said. "If Yoshida comes back and I'm not home, I wouldn't be able to give it to him, anyway. I've got work, too."
"Well, yeah, I guess," Kuji said.
Kuji left the building, sticking both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The entertainment district was lit up with streetlamps and neon lights, making the place seem brighter than it had been during the overcast day. He made his way toward the subway station when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm.
"What—?" Kuji was dragged forcefully into a gap between two buildings. He whipped his head up to see an angry face right up close to his.
"Nango!"
"You bastard, you didn't pick up my calls to meet! What have you been doing these past two weeks?"
Kuji desperately tried to twist out of Nango's grip.
"I'm not letting you go," the man snarled, snapping his teeth like a wild animal as he pinned Kuji's arms behind him and pushed his head against the concrete wall. A hand towel was shoved into his mouth before Kuji could even raise his voice. Nango pulled off Kuji's leather jacket down to his forearms and tied the sleeves together. His hands were bound behind him and he could not move. Kuji leaned against the wall.
His pants were quickly yanked down to his ankles.
"Listen. You're my S. Got that? Rebel against me, and I'll kill you. I'm serious."
Kuji's legs were spread apart, and a searing hot rod was jammed into his very core.
"Nghhh!" Kuji tried to scream, but the towel was pushed further into his mouth to stop him. Kuji gagged and flexed his abdomen, trying to fight the urge to vomit. He felt the thing inside him and arched his back reflexively.
Amazing Grace Page 5
