Smiling at the Moon: Volume 2 - Chapter 3 - part 1
The content warning is in the footnotes0.
I arrived at Roppongi Station ten
minutes before the scheduled time of eleven o'clock. I stood at the top of the
stairs, feeling a bit chilly as the north wind blew in. There was no place to
hide. I felt like everyone passing through the ticket gate was looking at me,
which made me uneasy. I knew I was being overly self-conscious and that the
reason for my anxiety was the unfamiliar suit I was wearing.
For someone like Yamada, who
usually spends the whole year in jeans and a T-shirt, with a jacket in winter,
this slim, stylish suit felt like armor, and the necktie felt like a noose. He marveled at how office workers could wear such things every day.
Putting on the suit was torture, but
choosing it was even worse. I went to a clean, fancy store I had never been to
before, where a stylish salesperson, who looked like a purebred dog, bombarded
me with terms like "checks are this year's trend," "this
neckline is key," and "suede straight-tip shoes." My head was
about to explode. The salesperson hit it off with Michihiko, and I ended up
trying on multiple outfits like a dress-up doll, not understanding a thing.
Even though they said everything I
tried looked good, none of them felt right to me. In the end, I bought two
complete outfits coordinated by Michihiko.
"Are you Yamada Shinji?"
I raised my head quickly. While I
was lost in thought, Kato, the sole attendant of the boss's son, Mr. Soichi,
had appeared before me.
"I'm sorry for making you come
all the way here," I said, bowing my head quickly.
"That's fine, lift your
head," he replied. Kato looked me up and down, inspecting my appearance. I
swallowed nervously.
"Let's go," he said.
"Yes," I replied,
following Kato as he started walking. It seemed my outfit had passed the test.
After being informed by Okano that I was assigned to Mr. Soichi, Kato had
contacted me directly, instructing me to come to the Roppongi office in a
"normal suit."
"A normal suit?" I had
asked.
"The office is in a Roppongi
apartment. Having guys who look like yakuza coming in and out is bad for
appearances," he had said plainly. I had thought, "Aren't you guys
yakuza? Why pretend?" but I didn't say it out loud. With help from Ryota
and Michihiko, I had arranged the suit after much hassle.
The path from the station to the
apartment was well-maintained, with wide sidewalks and hardly any litter. The
people we passed looked like purebred animals. We stopped at a traffic light,
and our eyes met.
"You clean up pretty
well," Kato muttered.
"In that outfit, you don't look
like a yakuza with tattoos on your back," he said.
"Thank you," I replied,
relieved to have met his approval. Kato glanced at his watch.
"We don't have much time, so
let's talk while we walk. Your job, as I mentioned before, will be
miscellaneous tasks," he said.
"I understand. I'll handle
anything diligently," I answered, trying to sound eager, but Kato
shrugged.
"You don't need to be that
enthusiastic. Just do what you're told," he said. The light changed, and
we started walking again.
"Straighten your back when you
walk," he instructed. I hurriedly corrected my posture, which made him
laugh for some reason.
"It doesn't matter if you're
dressed like a civilian if you walk like a yakuza," he said. Embarrassed,
I looked down, grumbling internally that I couldn't help it since I was a
yakuza.
After about five minutes from the
station, we arrived in front of a towering high-rise apartment. Unlike the
common apartments where anyone could come and go, this one had a security guard
at the entrance. The spacious entrance hall looked like a high-end hotel lobby,
complete with a receptionist in a suit standing behind the central counter.
Despite being with Kato, I felt nervous, wondering if I would be stopped and
questioned.
Though such a large building must
house many residents, the area was eerily quiet, and we saw no one else as we
got into the elevator. The elevator was elegant and silent, unlike the rickety,
noisy one at my place.
"There are several rooms owned
by Mr. Soichi here, but the only one you need to know is 1410. It's an easy
number to remember," Kato said.
"Got it," I replied,
wondering how much each room cost. Even estimating conservatively, a single
room could be worth fifty million yen1, meaning two rooms would be a hundred million yen—amounts of money far beyond my
daily life.
The elevator rose to the
twenty-second floor. Although I wondered why we weren't going to the fourteenth
floor, I didn't say anything, thinking it wasn't worth pointing out a possible
mistake.
When the elevator doors opened, the
first thing that struck me was the silence—there was carpet all the way down
the hallway. I had never seen a carpeted hallway outside of a hotel. The walls
were cream-colored, and the doors were evenly spaced, all in muted brown tones.
There were no bicycles or piles of miscellaneous items in the hallway. Like the
entrance, it lacked any sign of everyday life.
When we reached 2205, Kato opened
the door without knocking and gestured for me to enter. Nervously, I stepped
inside.
It was a completely different world.
That might sound exaggerated, but that's how it felt. Despite being an
apartment, it had a high ceiling with a chandelier glittering above. The floor
was inlaid with marble, and a spacious living area, possibly thirty tatami2 mats wide, lay ahead. The brown sofas were arranged comfortably, and a huge vase was
displayed without seeming old-fashioned or gaudy, fitting seamlessly into the
simple, expansive room.
I panicked, thinking I might have to
take off my shoes, but Kato continued on inside without removing his. As we
walked through the living room, I noticed a faint, sweet scent in the air.
Kato stopped in front of a heavy
wooden door on the right and knocked.
"Mr. Soichi, I've brought
him."
"Come in," came the reply,
and Kato opened the door. The room was bright, illuminated by soft light
filtering through lace curtains from a large window directly opposite the door.
The room was about fifteen tatami3 mats in size, with walls lined with bookshelves filled to the brim with countless
books. The sheer volume of books was overwhelming.
In the center of the room, in front
of a large desk with intricate carvings on its edges and legs, sat Motohashi Mr.
Soichi. Noticing our entry, he stood up, causing his chair to creak. He was
dressed in a black sweater and slim trousers, with long legs and a small face.
He exuded a clean and stylish aura, similar to the salespeople at the store
where I bought my suit. His sharp, cool eyes stared at me, sending a chill down
my spine with his snake-like coldness.
Many in the organization disparaged Mr.
Soichi as a "financial yakuza" for his ability to generate
significant revenue. Even Yamada had only thought of him as a "stork
bringing money," despite his presence but lack of connection with other
members. But there was something different about him, something more.
As I felt my throat dry up from the
tension, a refreshing scent tickled my nose, the same sweet fragrance lingering
from the living room.
"That suit looks good on
you," Mr. Soichi said, his icy gaze melting into a soft smile.
"Ah, thank you!" I bowed
deeply.
"I asked Okano for someone who
looked normal, but I honestly didn't expect much. But you look pretty good. The
suit may be cheap, but it suits you. Right, Kato?" Mr. Soichi asked.
Kato nodded expressionlessly. Mr.
Soichi tilted his head slightly.
"So, what's his name
again?"
" Yamada Shinji," Kato
replied.
"Ah, that sounds about
right," Mr. Soichi murmured.
"Yamada, you know..." Mr.
Soichi's eyes narrowed into a smile. "Even though I was born into a yakuza
family, I dislike the typical yakuza look."
"Uh, I see..." I replied
vaguely.
"Behaving and speaking in a way
that screams 'yakuza' is nothing but harmful. It's never a plus, only a minus.
In the end, it's just showing off in front of others. Yakuza need to change,
and those who can adapt to the changing times will survive," Mr. Soichi
continued.
Yamada swallowed hard, realizing how
unpopular such statements would make him in the office.
"What we need from now on is
individual capability," Mr. Soichi said, crossing his arms lightly.
"Did you know there are members
who, unable to pay their dues, extort protection money from a local florist?
It's pathetic, considering a florist's earnings are limited. That's the
behavior of idiots who can't think of new ways to earn and can't see beyond
their noses," Mr. Soichi added.
My heart pounded. Most of my income
came from the classic honey trap scams. To Mr. Soichi, it might seem like the
work of a fool.
"Don't disappoint me by being
an idiot," Mr. Soichi said, patting my shoulder before leaving the room.
As the door closed, I felt the tension release from my body, replaced by a
rising warmth in my chest.
This man is different. Unlike the
other yakuza who are obsessed with money, he seriously thinks about the future
of the business and is prepared to lead. He has the presence and the guts to
back it up. Even without the title of the boss's son, someone like him is bound
to rise to the top.
"Let's go," Kato's voice
snapped me back to reality.
"We've got work to do,"
Kato said, starting to walk without waiting for my response. He led me to room
1410. This room was also spacious but more ordinary compared to the previous
one. It was a type where you had to take off your shoes at the entrance, and
although the hallway was wide, it wasn't more than two meters. The living room
was around fifteen tatami mats, with white walls and floors, and the black
furniture gave it a sleek, monochrome look.
Despite the model-room-like
atmosphere, scattered newspapers and empty bottles on the table indicated
someone lived there.
"Sit there," Kato
instructed. I sat on the black sofa, which was firmer than it looked.
"Your job is to take care of
the person living here during the day. They're quite a handful," Kato
said.
I had assumed I was here to assist
with Mr. Soichi's work, so I felt a bit let down. Taking care of someone...
Probably a woman. Yet, the room lacked any feminine touch.
"You look displeased,"
Kato noted, making me hastily explain, "No, it's nothing like that."
"I'd prefer to have more
bodyguards for Mr. Soichi, but he hates being surrounded by people. Do you know
Mr. Soichi's position in the organization?" Kato asked.
I broke into a cold sweat, fearing I
would be reprimanded for not knowing my boss's rank, but before I could answer,
Kato said, "He's a provisional member."
"Wait, he's not a full
member?" I asked.
Kato nodded meaningfully.
"That's his cleverness. Full
members are listed, but provisional ones aren't. While our organization is
known for its wealth, many don't know the source. Although we've kept it
hidden, Mr. Soichi's name is becoming more well-known lately. Prominent figures
get targeted. Be careful. Besides me, you're the only one serving him
now," Kato explained.
I clenched my fists, swallowing
hard. He was smart, stylish, didn't cling to the yakuza style, and didn't rely
on his position. His lone wolf attitude was impressive. Cool...
"Just so you know, don't tell
anyone, not even family or other members, about the person you're about to meet
or their work," Kato warned.
"Yes," I replied, raising
my pinky finger slightly.
"Is the person I'm looking
after... Mr. Soichi's girlfriend?" I asked.
Kato looked momentarily taken aback
but then burst out laughing.
"No, it's not a woman. If I had
to compare, they're more like a maggot. His name's Kimijima... You'll
understand when you see him," Kato said, leading me down a hallway with
two white doors. He knocked on the nearer door.
"I'm coming in," Kato
announced.
"Okay," replied a
high-pitched but still recognizably male voice. As the door opened, a strong
odor of sweat and sourness hit me. It was the dirty smell of a male who hadn't
bathed.
In front of a computer monitor, of
which there were six, all displaying different screens, was a fat figure that
resembled a pig from behind. The irregular sound of typing came from the
keyboards.
"Give me two more
minutes," the man said. Exactly two minutes later, he spun around in his
chair. He was in a green tracksuit that strained against his obese body. His
hair was thinning at the back, making him look like he was in his fifties, but
his face suggested he was in his thirties. This must be the "maggot"
Kato mentioned.
"Who is that?" the pale,
dirty-bearded, bespectacled fat man asked, pointing at me.
"He's a member of our
organization, and he's been assigned to take care of you," Kato said.
The fat man raised his arms in
triumph like a child, exclaiming, "Finally, Mr. Motohashi got me an attendant!"
The word "attendant "
grated on me. I was Mr. Soichi's attendant, not his. I kept my displeasure to
myself.
The fat man opened a desk drawer and
pulled out a piece of paper.
"Could you get this for me
right away?" he asked.
I approached him, holding my breath
against the sour smell, and took the small paper slip. It read, "Pretty
Clumsy Girl Limited Edition Figure No. 3."
"Um, what is this?" I
asked hesitantly.
The fat man grinned, showing his
thick, greasy face.
"It's a reservation voucher. Go
to 'Paradise★Giga' in Akihabara and pick it up
for me. And make sure you don't damage the box or the special poster that comes
with it. If anything happens, you'll have to compensate me. Since it's a
limited edition, there's no stock. If something goes wrong, you'll have to buy
a perfect one at auction. The last limited edition Figure No. 2 had an average
auction price of 150,000 yen4 unopened," he explained.
I couldn't comprehend what he was
saying.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
Looking up from the street, I saw
the light on in my apartment. Michihiko was there. Ever since the university
went on winter break in the second week of December, he had been hanging out at
my place a lot. The room felt more cramped, but the benefits were worth it. He
made breakfast and dinner for me. Though he started cooking when he got into
college, he was much better than Meirin. Once, I had the misfortune of eating Meirin’s
cooking, and it was so spicy it numbed my tongue—I thought she was trying to mess
with me.
As I opened the apartment door, the
first thing I saw was Michihiko reading manga in the kotatsu.
“Welcome back. Dinner’s ready. I
made cream stew...”
I walked over silently, snatched the
manga from his hands, and tore it in half on the spot. Michihiko stared at the
torn pages on the floor in shock before yelling, “What the hell are you
doing?!” as he got out of the kotatsu.
“Don’t bring manga into my place!”
I kicked the corner of the kotatsu
hard.
“You could’ve just told me! There
was no need to rip it up!”
“Just seeing it pisses me off, you
otaku!”
“Who are you calling an otaku? You
read erotic manga yourself!”
I had hidden them deep in the
closet, out of his sight. Despite my efforts, he found them, and my
embarrassment turned into anger.
“Don’t go snooping around in my
closet!”
“I was just getting the winter futon
and saw them piled up in the corner!”
Michihiko shouted back, not backing
down.
“They were hidden! Don’t look at
them!”
“I can’t help it if I see them, you
big-boob lover!”
His eyes started to well up with
tears, and I felt a bad feeling in my gut.
“You always focus on my chest when
we’re doing it, so I thought it was weird.”
“I can’t help it! I’ve always liked
big boobs!”
Tears streamed down Michihiko’s
face.
“That’s why I asked if I should get
implants, but you told me not to.”
“Think about it! If you had both
boobs and a dick, you’d be a freak! That’s gross!”
“But you like big boobs, don’t you?”
He used that fact against me like a
trump card, leaving me at a loss for words.
“You’re so selfish.”
I spread my arms wide.
“Imagine you loved ramen, but I
hated it. You wouldn’t eat it in front of me, but you’d still eat it alone,
right? It’s the same thing.”
“Sexual desire and hunger are
different!”
He shut me down firmly. He was
probably right, but I didn’t know how else to explain. Michihiko sobbed
heavily, tears pouring down his face.
“When I saw all those big-boob mangas,
I felt hopeless. I’m a guy, I have a dick, and I don’t have boobs... If you
like that so much, I thought I’d change my body, but you told me not to. What
am I supposed to do?”
When Michihiko was in high school
back home, I lived with Ryota. I could always blame those mangas and DVDs on
Ryota. But when Michihiko moved to Tokyo for university, and Ryota started
living with Meirin, I thought it was best to get rid of most of them. Still, I
kept a few select ones because it seemed a waste to throw them all away.
“You’re fine just the way you are.”
“When I’m not here, you use those mangas,
don’t you?”
I was about to deny it, but it would
be as believable as a politician denying corruption.
“You must think I’m boring or that I
have something extra when you use those big-boob mangas.”
“That’s not true. And I don’t think
about you when I use those mangas...”
Michihiko’s face twisted with a mix
of anger and sadness, making his usually handsome face look distorted.
“I hate you! You perverted yakuza!”
He collapsed to the floor, crying
loudly. I was at a loss, not knowing what to do.
“Hey, hey... Michihiko, come on.”
When I tried to touch his shoulder,
he shrugged it off immediately. He was really mad. No, he was furious. I hadn’t
seen him this angry in a long time, if ever.
“Come on, cheer up. How about we go
out for some good food? I’ll treat you to meat or sushi or whatever you want.”
His shoulders stopped shaking. Just
as I thought food might work, he started crying twice as hard.
“I said there’s cream stew! You
don’t care about what I make!”
I made things worse. Michihiko in
tears was a dangerous situation. With no idea what to do, I grabbed my phone
and stepped out of the apartment, going to the end of the hallway to make a
call.
“What’s up, bro?” Ryota’s laid-back
voice annoyed me slightly.
“...Michihiko’s in a bad mood.”
“Did you say something harsh again?”
His assumption irked me even more.
“Why does it have to be my fault?!”
“Because Meirin doesn’t say
unreasonable things or throw tantrums. So, I figured you must have done
something.”
I stomped my feet in frustration.
“I didn’t do anything. He just got
mad on his own.”
I didn’t mention that I had torn his
manga and that he found my erotic mangas. I knew Ryota would just say it was my
fault. I heard Meirin’s accented voice in the background, asking who it was.
“It’s nothing, I’ll be done soon.”
Even over the phone, I could feel
his dismissiveness. If he were here, I’d punch him a few times.
“Just apologize,” Ryota suggested.
“I already did.”
“You must’ve done something.”
After grumbling, Ryota suggested
taking Michihiko out for some good food, just like I did. I felt hopeless. Even
our thought processes were the same.
“Forget it. Asking you was a
mistake.”
I hung up and searched my coat
pockets for cigarettes, remembering I was out. I cursed under my breath and
stomped my feet again, glaring at my apartment door. Why did I have to hesitate
to enter my own home?
Gritting my teeth, I charged back
into the apartment. Despite my resolve, nothing had changed. Michihiko was
still crying with his back turned.
I racked my brain, feeling
overwhelmed. Why did this happen? It’s all because of those erotic mangas.
I rushed to the closet, pulled out
the hidden mangas and DVDs, and carried them to the balcony. I kicked the
balcony door open, letting in a blast of cold air.
“Hey, look here!”
When Michihiko slowly raised his
head, I stepped onto the balcony and threw the mangas and DVDs over the
railing. They flew like birds and landed far below.
“How’s that? No more complaints,
right?”
I walked back into the room, puffing
out my chest. Michihiko turned his gaze away, muttering, “You’re an idiot.”
“What do you mean, idiot?”
“The landlord will be mad.”
“There’s no name tag, so no one will
know it was me.”
Even after all this, he was still
grumbling. Just as I was about to seriously smack him, he tugged on my pants.
“Do you want some cream stew?”
His voice was a bit softer.
“...Yeah. I’m hungry.”
“I’ll heat it up.”
Michiko wiped his face with both
hands and stood up. Perhaps due to the dramatic performance, his mood finally
improved. As he started to warm up the stew, Yamada muttered quietly that he
would tease him tonight until he cried, as an apology for making him throw away
his cherished erotic manga, but Michiko, with his back turned, surely couldn't
hear it.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
I cranked up the heater to feel like
it was perpetually summer. I hated fumbling around under the covers. It was
fine for sleeping, but for sex, I preferred being uncovered. I also liked
having the lights on—I wanted to see what was happening and be seen. I won’t
deny having a bit of an exhibitionist streak.
"Hey, open your mouth," I
said, straddling Michihiko, who was lying naked on his back. His face was
flushed pink.
"No," he replied.
"What? Don’t you want to kiss
me?"
"I just licked you a while ago..."
As compensation for getting rid of
the DVDs and mangas, I demanded a special service from Michihiko, focusing on my
lower half.
"I don’t care. It’s mine
anyway. Come on..."
Reluctantly, he opened his mouth,
and I plunged my tongue inside, engaging in a deep, saliva-mingling kiss.
Michihiko’s hands circled behind my head. I liked kissing. Feeling the raw
reactions of my partner was great. After a while, I broke the kiss, but the
craving for more returned, leading to a loop of endless kisses. This sensual, sticky
as melted chocolate time was abruptly interrupted by Michihiko's plea, "I
need to pee."
"You’re so unsexy," I
said, pinching his cheek. He averted his eyes in embarrassment.
"I’ve been holding it in for a
while. I’m about to burst," he said, slipping out from under me and
getting off the bed, crossing the room naked. I followed him, blocking the
bathroom door just as he tried to close it, making him frown deeply.
"Get out."
In the cramped space, I pressed
against his back.
"Let me watch."
"No."
He wriggled in protest.
"Come on, you let me see when
you cum."
"That’s different."
"It’s all the same liquid
coming out."
"Even so, no!"
Despite his resistance, I didn’t
leave. I lifted the toilet seat with my heel and grabbed his hanging member.
Michihiko shuddered violently.
"Stop! Let go."
He squirmed like a lively fish.
"I’m just trying to help you.
Go on."
I shook him up and down, and
although he tried to pry my hand away or twist his body, he eventually gave up
and went still.
"Weren’t you about to
burst?"
"I’m too nervous to go."
"For someone so kinky, you’ve
got a timid dick."
Teasing him verbally, I felt the
heat rise in his member. The tip twitched, and then water gushed out
forcefully. I could feel the flow through my hand, more vividly than when
holding my own. The sound of his stream continued for a while. Michihiko closed
his eyes, unwilling to look. The flow gradually weakened, eventually slowing to
a drip before stopping completely.
"You really had to go,
huh?" I said, patting his belly. Michihiko broke free and returned to the
room. After cleaning up and washing my hands, I saw Michihiko lying face-down
on the bed. I climbed on top of him.
"That was gross."
"It’s just a little pee. Lots
of guys take a leak together."
"But it’s embarrassing."
I grinned.
"I get turned on seeing you
embarrassed."
"Your tastes are awful."
Sliding my fingers between the
sheets, I teased his nipples and member. Michihiko whimpered, "I want to
sleep."
I began to feel sleepy too and moved
next to him. As I lay face-down, turning my head, my eyes met his, equally
drowsy.
"Do you hate otakus?"
He asked in a small voice.
"Why ask suddenly?"
"You got mad when I was reading
manga."
I reached out to stroke his
forehead.
"Don’t worry about it. I was
just taking it out on you."
"Did you take it out on
me?"
Feeling awkward, I turned away. He
snuggled up to my back, saying, "Hey, hey," with his nose pressed
against me.
"Shut up and sleep."
"If you hate otakus and manga,
I’ll stop it."
I couldn’t stand it any longer and
turned back, pulling him into a hug. Unlike the fat, balding otaku I had to
deal with for work, Michihiko smelled nice. After squeezing him tightly, I
sighed.
"I’m stuck taking care of an
otaku for work, and he’s a pain."
"A yakuza taking care of an
otaku?"
He sounded puzzled.
"There’s this guy who
manages... no, creates our funds. He’s an otaku who never leaves his computer,
so I handle his meals, cleaning, and errands. And not just that, he sends me to
buy weird figurines and manga in Akihabara every day. It’s not normal."
Michihiko rubbed his nose against my
chest.
"Does this otaku trade
stocks?"
I was startled.
"How did you know?"
"It’s common knowledge that
yakuza make money by manipulating the stock market. They target struggling
companies, threaten them, buy their stocks, artificially inflate the prices,
and then sell them high to make a profit. It’s a classic tactic. The people who
do this are called stock manipulators, right?"
"Are you a spy from another
gang?" I joked.
He laughed, shaking his shoulders.
"I study economics in college
and have an interest in stocks myself."
"But you don’t stick to your
computer all day."
He propped himself up on his elbows.
"I just aim to cover my tuition
and pocket money. Stock prices can crash instantly, and those handling others’
money have to be very careful not to incur huge losses. That’s probably why
they’re so meticulous."
Since becoming the errand boy for
Kimijima, the former stockbroker turned otaku manipulator whom Soichi had taken
under his wing, I had learned about stock manipulation tricks. I was impressed
by their methods but felt a mix of emotions knowing that smart people already
knew about them.
"Are you just a caretaker for
this stock manipulator?"
Michihiko touched my cheek.
"I don’t have the skills to
work a computer. I just do mundane chores."
"Good."
He smiled.
"If you were involved in stock
manipulation, you’d be violating securities laws. If caught, you’d be
arrested."
His fingers, which had been
caressing my cheek, moved to my ear and hair.
"If you go to prison, we won't
be able to see each other for a while. I don't want that to happen."
"Like I’d mess up that
badly."
Taking care of the stock manipulator
was safer than my honey trap scams, which I had handed over to Ryota and Meirin.
"Recently, you’ve been looking
handsome."
Out of nowhere, he said that. When I
asked, "Huh?" he buried his face in the sheets.
"What do you mean?"
After some coaxing and tickling, he
finally admitted.
"You look good in a suit."
I smirked.
"Did you fall for me
again?"
He didn’t answer, just clung to me.
As I inhaled his scent, he murmured, "Don’t go to places with lots of
women."
"Why?"
"I think you’ll be
popular."
…I knew plenty of bad women who
swindled men and cheated. But Michihiko was different. His jealousy and
complexity, despite being a guy with a dick, made him special. I’d never known
anyone who loved me this much.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
It was mid-January, just after the
New Year. Around midday, I bought some limited-edition fresh chocolate from the
department store because Kimijima wanted them. After completing the errand, I
was relaxing on the sofa when my cell phone rang, I thought “oh, no”.
The lazy fat baldy, too lazy even to
walk, called me from his room to the living room. His request: "Buy a diet
bento from Isakaya for dinner." I felt like sprinkling some laxatives on
that limited chocolate but instead replied, "Yes, yes," with a
half-hearted response. I could sense his irritation through the phone, but I
ignored it and hung up.
The phone rang again almost
immediately. Annoyed, I answered, "Yes, Yamada speaking."
"It's me, Kato."
I straightened up involuntarily on
the sofa.
"Can you come to the entrance
of the apartment right now?"
"Yes, sir!"
The call ended abruptly. Fearing an
emergency, I rushed out of the room.
In the entrance hall stood Kato and
a tall, beautiful woman with black hair. She was probably in her late twenties,
with a small face and a delicate chin. Her sharp eyes and black fur coat gave
her a striking appearance, like a black cat. She assessed me from head to toe
with an unceremonious gaze.
"This is Ms. Reika, a friend of
Mr. Soichi," Kato introduced the beautiful black-haired woman, who smiled
at me. Her flawless, doll-like smile made it clear she wasn't an ordinary
woman.
"You're to entertain Ms. Reika
until the evening. Then, take her to Reimei-tei in Akasaka at 7 PM."
The word "entertain" made
my face twitch.
"Uh, what exactly should I do?
I don’t know how to play golf..."
Reika's laughter echoed in the
entrance hall, making my ears burn with embarrassment. I had no idea why she
found it so funny.
"I hate golf. I don't want to
get sunburned," she said, brushing back her hair to reveal her fair,
translucent skin. Even Kato chuckled.
"Sorry for using the term ‘entertain’.
Just keep Ms. Reika company and kill time with her. Use this car," Kato
handed me the keys to a Benz parked in the basement.
"Bring the car to the
entrance," Kato ordered.
As I headed to the elevator to go to
the basement, Kato followed and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Reika is Mr. Soichi's...
special friend," Kato said, raising his pinky finger.
"She’s a bit of a handful, but Mr.
Soichi likes her. Don't make any moves on her."
"I understand," I nodded.
Kato patted my shoulder again before returning to Reika. Even if ordered, I
wouldn’t be interested. Like Meirin, strong-willed beautiful women were not my
type.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
As soon as Reika got into the back
seat, she shivered, hugging herself.
"Brr, it's cold!"
"Sorry about that," I
apologized, turning the heater up to the max. By the time I started sweating,
Reika also seemed to warm up, removing her black coat. Underneath, she wore a
black dress with a deep neckline, showcasing her ample chest—at least an E-cup.
My intention to glance at her face through the rearview mirror instead led my
eyes to her cleavage. Since Michihiko moved in, I hadn't been with a woman, and
I missed the feel of soft, voluptuous flesh.
Reika, who had been fixing her
makeup and fiddling with her phone, grew bored and began talking to me.
"Are you a yakuza too?"
"Yes."
"I asked Soichi to send a
young, non-yakuza-looking guy. I was worried a blonde delinquent in a tracksuit
might show up, but you look good. Sophisticated."
It sounded like a compliment, so I
thanked her.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four."
"So young! I'm already
twenty-eight. The girls at the club call me an old lady just to annoy me. When
I threatened to have a yakuza 'deal' with them, they shut up, but I’m sure they
still say it behind my back. It's infuriating."
Reika pulled out a slim menthol
cigarette from her small bag and lit it. I glanced at the GPS; we were about
five minutes from the destination.
"Can I ask something?"
"What is it?" she asked,
tilting her head.
"Mr. Kato told me to take you
to Mukaiyama Hall. What's there?"
"A pro wrestling match."
"Wrestling?"
A seductive woman like Reika and pro
wrestling—it felt as mismatched as serving curry with sashimi.
"I love pro wrestling. I was
supposed to go with Soichi, but he got called away for work at the last minute.
It pissed me off. When I complained that I didn't want to go alone, he lent me
you."
I was starting to understand the
situation.
"So you’ll watch the match with
me."
"Sounds fun."
Reika's expression changed in the
mirror, leaning forward.
"Do you like wrestling?"
"What guy doesn't like combat
sports?"
Reika fell back against the seat
with a smile.
"Soichi comes with me to
matches but doesn’t really like it. Despite being a masochist, he can’t stand
the sight of blood. He probably used the sudden work call as an excuse and was
secretly glad."
Despite having just fixed her
makeup, Reika pulled out her makeup pouch again.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
The afternoon match ended at 4 PM.
Sitting next to Reika in the VIP seats, I found it quite enjoyable. Pro
wrestling is entertainment; the outcome is predetermined, but the raw
physicality and the sight of blood were thrilling to watch.
Reika was enthusiastic, standing up
and cheering loudly, her beauty drawing a lot of attention. We left the venue
at 4:10 PM, still having plenty of time before the 7 PM appointment. At her
request, we returned to Ginza and went to her favorite members-only café.
I had heard of members-only clubs
but didn’t know cafés operated like that. The café was bright, with large
windows, private spaces, and extremely comfortable chairs.
"Sakuragi is the best,"
Reika said, referring to her favorite masked wrestler, Yuuma Sakuragi. Despite
his small stature, he was agile and had impressive techniques. His performance
was amazing, and he received the loudest cheers from the crowd.
"He has a great body."
"Yes, that chest is
perfection," she said, intertwining her beautifully manicured fingers and
smiling dreamily.
"Because of his size, he has
more techniques and seems to give it his all."
"Exactly. That's what I like
about him. You get it."
After a lively conversation about
wrestling, we left the café and headed to Reimei-tei.
In the car, Reika said, "Next
time, I’ll go with you."
"No way, that's not a good
idea."
"Why not? It’s boring with
Soichi."
She pouted in the rearview mirror.
"It's still not right for me to
go with you."
"It's just watching wrestling.
We’re not sleeping together. How about 'Kingdom' in February at Ikebukuro's
Festival Hall? Just that one?"
'Kingdom' is an annual show where
popular wrestlers from various offices come together. It’s always a big hit,
and the matches are great. It’s broadcast live on TV, and I look forward to it
every year. But...
"Still, it’s not right for
Soichi's girl to be with another guy."
"I’m not Soichi’s girl. I only
hang out with him because he’s good-looking and generous. He sees me as nothing
more than a fancy sex toy."
I smirked internally. Women in the
nightlife industry are blunt. I refrained from commenting, and Reika chuckled.
"Want to know something
funny?"
"What?"
"Promise you won’t tell
anyone?"
"I won’t if you say so."
Reika batted her heavy eyelashes.
"Soichi is a total
pervert."
Michihiko’s voice echoed in my mind,
calling me a pervert for holding his penis while he peed.
"All men are a bit
perverted."
"There are degrees of
perversion. I’m a dominatrix at the club, so I meet all sorts of perverts.
Soichi is way out there. He can’t orgasm without being pegged by a woman
wearing a strap-on."
"What?"
"He won’t come unless a woman
with a strap-on fucks him. You’d think he could just be with a man, but he’s
not gay. You should watch us sometime. It’s hilarious. He gets on all fours and
moans like crazy. It’s gross."
Reika shrugged, laughing.
◇:*:◆:*:◇
We arrived in front of the
restaurant at five minutes to seven. Since I was just dropping off Reika, I
didn't use the parking lot and parked on the street instead.
After watching Reika go inside, I
leaned against the steering wheel and sighed deeply. The final part of our
conversation had left a bitter taste in my mouth—such an intense story,
especially involving Soichi and a strap-on. Everyone has their preferences, but
it still made me feel uncomfortable.
A flickering light from behind
caught my attention. I turned and saw another car parked behind me. That's when
I noticed something left in the back seat: Reika's mirror. She had used it
multiple times, both during the ride and while watching the match, to check her
face. Although I knew I could ask Kato to return it to her, seeing how often
she used it made me want to give it back myself.
I got out of the car and was heading
towards the restaurant when I heard someone call my name, "Yamada?"
Turning around, I saw Soichi standing right behind me. After Reika’s graphic
story, I found it hard to look him in the eye. Although I believe sex, in any
form, is fine as long as it feels good, I couldn’t reconcile the image of this
cool-looking guy with a strap-on.
"Did you bring Reika?"
Soichi asked.
"Yes," I nodded. It
occurred to me that Soichi’s usual companion was absent.
"Where's Kato?"
"Parking the car."
Soichi's gaze fell on my hand,
reminding me why I got out of the car.
"Oh, Reika left her mirror in
the car. I was going to give it to her, but she already went inside..."
Soichi extended his right hand
gracefully.
"I'll return it for you."
"Thanks."
Soichi took the mirror from me with
a smooth motion and slipped it into his suit pocket.
"Sorry for making you deal with
Reika’s whims."
"No problem. I'll be on my way
then."
I bowed and turned to leave. The
entrance of Reimei-tei exuded an ultra-exclusive vibe that made it look
intimidating, so I was relieved to have met Soichi outside. As I was about to
get back to the car, I noticed a man approaching Soichi from behind. He looked
out of place in Akasaka, with his black coat and disheveled hair. The
middle-aged man was running straight at Soichi.
Something felt off. I quickly turned
back, sensing danger.
"Uwaaaaa!"
The man let out a strange scream and
raised something shiny high in the air. Soichi turned around.
"Watch out!"
I shoved Soichi aside just in time.
A flash of light crossed my vision, followed by a sharp pain in my right arm. I
turned and kicked the man in the stomach, sending him sprawling. The knife he
was holding clattered across the asphalt.
"You bastard!"
The man looked up, his mouth
quivering. When I glared at him and yelled, he turned pale and fled.
I wanted to chase him, but I didn't
know who he was. If he was from a rival gang, leaving Soichi unguarded could be
dangerous. With Kato not around, I couldn’t leave Soichi alone.
Grabbing Soichi’s arm, I led him to
the car, shoving him into the back seat and jumping into the driver’s seat
myself.
I remembered hearing that all
Soichi's cars had bulletproof windows. This was probably the safest place.
Although I wanted to leave, my right arm was injured, making it risky to drive.
"Are you hurt?" I asked,
turning to the back seat.
"I'm fine," Soichi's voice
was shaky.
"Do you recognize the
attacker?"
"Yes. I know him."
"Is he from another gang?"
"No, he isn’t."
That meant there wouldn’t be another
attack. I used my left hand to call Kato.
"Yamada, what happened?"
Kato's voice came through, sounding concerned.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Soichi was
attacked."
"What?!"
"He's not hurt. We're in the
car parked on the right side of the road. I... got a bit hurt myself."
Kato, who was walking on the
sidewalk, noticed me and rushed over. I stepped out of the car.
"What happened? Explain
yourself!" Kato’s face was twisted with anger.
"I was dropping off Reika when
a man suddenly attacked Mr. Soichi. I kicked him and he ran away. Mr. Soichi
said he wasn’t from a gang."
Kato noticed my right hand.
"What happened to your
hand?"
"I messed up and got cut, but
it’s not serious..."
I looked down and saw my right arm
soaked in blood, dripping from my fingers and turning the asphalt dark red. The
adrenaline had kept the pain at bay, but now it hit me hard, and the smell of
blood filled my nose.
Just as I thought, "This is
bad," my vision went dark, and I collapsed.
"Yamada, hey, Yamada!"
Kato’s voice echoed as I lost
consciousness.
Footnotes
0. Content warning: NSFW, violence.
1. Around $ 310,310.00 USD.
2. Approximately 49.59 square meters (or 534.51 square feet).
3. Approximately 24.79 square meters (or 267.26 square feet).
4. Around $930 USD.
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