La Vie En Rose: Chapter 1 - Part 4

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

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We arranged to meet at 7 p.m. in front of the Itabashi station. Whether he’d show up or not… Half-expecting him, half not, Momota waited. Right on time, the officer arrived in jeans, a black sweater, and a navy duffle coat.

Out of uniform, he didn’t look like a cop at all. More like a college student.

“Hey, I’m starving,” Momota said as his first words, and the two of them entered a nearby beef bowl restaurant. Sitting across from Momota, who was devouring the beef bowl with reckless abandon, the officer began to speak haltingly.

“You mentioned you don’t have a place to live. Where have you been staying until now?”

“In a room for six.”

The officer tilted his head slightly.

“Is that a company dormitory?”

“A special lodging with iron bars.”

The officer’s mouth twisted asymmetrically, seemingly catching on.

“What’s today’s date?”

“It’s February 8th.”

I was released on the 5th. Which means I must have been unconscious for two whole days because of that lousy meth.

“I got out three days ago.”

“I see,” he replied quietly, looking down.

After wolfing down his second beef bowl, Momota stood up. The officer, who had already finished eating, also rose from his seat.

“I don’t have any money, so you pay for this.”

The officer paid for both his and Momota’s meals, three beef bowls in total. Once outside, Momota walked ahead.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe you should start with a job that offers room and board. That way, you can save on rent,” the officer suggested as they walked.

Ignoring him, Momota continued into the busy downtown area. Taking a step further in, he entered a district full of hotels. Earlier in the day, he had looked at a map in a bookstore, so he had a rough idea of the layout around the station.

He needed to find the cheapest place possible. 3,800 yen… not cheap enough. 3,500 yen… getting closer. Found it! A place for 2,600 yen per night.

“Um… where are you headed?” the officer asked from behind.

“Where do you think? To a place to stay.”

“Aren’t we supposed to talk?”

“We’re going to stay here anyway, so we can talk in the room. Or are you telling me, someone with no money, to sleep on the street?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, but…”

“Love hotels are cheap and economical, you know?”

Momota stepped into the 2,600-yen hotel. It was an old building that looked like it had been a traditional inn, now converted into a love hotel. Behind the reception desk stood a shriveled old lady who looked like she had been dragged out of a storage room. Paying the 2,600 yen in advance, with the officer footing the bill, Momota took the room key.

The room was a Japanese-style room. The futon cover was a tacky floral pattern. The curtains were red, with small pom-poms along the hem. The saving grace was that, even at that price, the room had a bath, a toilet, a yukata, a towel, and a toothbrush.

Leaving the bewildered officer behind, Momota quickly went into the bath. He washed his itchy head and finally cleaned his crotch, which had been bothering him. After thoroughly brushing his teeth with the provided toothbrush, he put on the yukata.

When Momota came out of the bath, the officer had opened the curtains and was looking outside. The snow was coming down even harder than when they had been walking outside.

“Why don’t you take a bath too?”

“I’m fine. I’ll take one when I get home.”

After closing the curtains, the officer walked carefully along the edge of the room to avoid stepping on the futon and approached Momota.

“Face the window,” Momota instructed.

The officer tilted his head, puzzled.

“Why?”

“Just do what I say.”

Following his instructions, the officer stood facing the futon. Momota crouched slightly and yanked the officer’s left leg back from behind. The officer fell face-first onto the futon with a thud.

Without missing a beat, Momota pounced on his defenseless back.

“W-What are you doing?”

Momota didn’t answer but pinned the officer’s hands down. As he ran his tongue along the back of the officer’s neck, he could faintly smell sweat. The scent of a male.

“Stop it!”

The officer twisted his body, trying to escape. Momota wedged his knee between the officer’s thighs and ground his knee into his crotch. The officer’s back, pinned down by Momota’s body, twitched violently.

“Come on, kid, let me have you,” Momota whispered low into his ear.

“No! Why are you doing this…?”

Momota grabbed the officer’s crotch hard over his jeans. A short scream escaped, “Ah!” After giving his crotch a few rough squeezes, Momota got off the officer’s back.

As soon as he realized he was free, the officer scrambled to his feet and headed straight for the door.

“Get out of here, get out!”

Momota yelled at the officer’s back as he laughed, his shoulders shaking. Just as the officer was about to leave with his hand on the doorknob, he stopped.

“What’s with this ‘I’m serious’? Don’t make me laugh. You don’t understand what it means to take responsibility for someone else’s life. You can’t just stay high and dry and say ‘poor thing, poor thing’ while you’re up there.”

The officer, who had turned back, bit his lip hard and looked at Momota with a flushed face.

“When you say you’ll take responsibility for me, this is part of it too. Stop acting all righteous and hand over your ass, at least once or twice.”

No response. Sensing his opportunity, Momota exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.

“You can’t do it, can you? Offering your ass to a freshly released ex-con, a homo no less. Your police pride won’t allow it, right?”

The officer didn’t move from in front of the door. His hands were clenched so tightly they had turned white.

“I’m not thanking you for the food or the hotel. You did it all on your own.”

Momota sat cross-legged on the futon.

“If you learn anything from this, don’t get involved with me again. Whether I live, die, do drugs, or steal, it has nothing to do with you. Just close your eyes and pretend you didn’t see. It’s easy, right?”

The officer kept his head down, his lips pressed tightly together. Momota’s chest swelled with a sense of superiority he had never felt before. It felt good to crush the spirit of this young cop who thought he was better than him.

The officer didn’t budge from in front of the door. Finally, when he did move, it was to take off his shoes and step into the room. He stood in front of Momota, who was sitting cross-legged, with his head slightly bowed.

“Do as you please.”

Momota couldn’t believe his ears.

“You can do whatever you want to me… But in return, listen to what I have to say.”

The officer’s face was pale, his hands trembling as he clenched them tightly.

This guy’s an idiot. Momota thought, conveniently ignoring his own actions. This cop’s an idiot. Doesn’t he understand what’s really about to happen to him?

Well then... Momota grinned. He’d make sure to give him an experience so awful, he’d never want to remember it.

“What do you mean ‘do as you please’? Don’t get cocky with me. Even if we’re doing this, there’s a way to show respect to someone like me. Before you spread your legs, go stick a finger up your ass and clean it out.”

At that moment, the officer’s already pale face turned completely white, like a sheet of paper. Momota watched with a faint smile.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At first, I tried to shove it in without using any lube or preparation, but it was too tight, and I couldn’t even get the tip in. There was no other choice but to make him loosen up on his own, but he wasn't used to it and didn't know what he was doing.

Frustrated, Momota decided to do it himself. He used a lube-covered finger to stimulate the prostate from the inside, and the cop’s flaccid cock started to get hard, making the entrance loosen up. Without missing a beat, he thrust in from behind. The cop let out a scream, almost like a woman, arching his back. 

Once you’ve broken in a hole with a cock, it gets easier to use. I took him from from the front, sideways—from every angle. During this stint in prison, there wasn’t any gay in my cell. I’d given and gotten handjobs a few times, but no one had offered up their ass. 

My first man in three and a half years, my first sex in three and a half years. Feeling that tightness again after so long, I was intensely aroused. 

If I knew it’d be like this, I would’ve preferred to fuck him while he was still in uniform. The thought of a cop, always lecturing with that condescending attitude, begging my dick for mercy—it made my rock-hard cock tremble just imagining it. 

The cop passed out once while we were doing it. I kept pounding him, sucking on his nipples until he woke up again. 

We started around 9 p.m., and it was past 1 a.m. by the time I let his body go. Four hours of relentless sex with no breaks. It was the first time I’d ever gone that long without drugs. 

During the entire time, the cop never once said to stop or that he didn’t want it. He just let himself be taken, at my mercy. 

When stubbornness reaches this level, it goes beyond anger to sheer disbelief. I couldn’t understand why he’d be so desperate when dealing with a piece of trash like me. 

“...Is it over…?”

The cop asked, still lying face down.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The cop, who lay like a dead fish washed ashore on the futon, slowly propped himself up on his elbows. Momota crawled closer to him on all fours.

“So, how was it? The cock of a three-time convict? Not something you get to enjoy every day, huh?”

He whispered in his ear, and the cop awkwardly turned his face away.

“You’re quite the freak yourself, huh? When I went in, you clamped down tight. I repaid you by unloading a lot of cum in your ass.”

His small head shuddered slightly. Then he curled up, hugging his knees like a child, and suddenly began crying loudly, like an elementary school kid.

He hadn’t put up much resistance before, so his sudden sobbing threw me off.

Still on the futon, sitting on his knees with his back hunched over, the cop cried his eyes out, clutching his head.

“H-Hey. What’s going on?”

The cop didn’t reply. With his loud sobbing, Momota felt at a loss. Just as the crying seemed to stop suddenly, the cop's hand reached back to his rear. When Momota looked, he saw that remnants of the semen he had poured in so generously were dripping out from the loosened hole.

Realizing what it was, the cop began to cry even more intensely. Watching him weep while leaking like that aroused Momota’s lust more than ever.

Momota approached quietly and, as the man’s sobs made his small, red hole twitch, he licked along it, tasting his own semen.

“Ah!”

The cop lurched forward in surprise and glared at Momota with eyes reddened from tears.

“What? It’s my stuff, isn’t it?”

“Don’t touch me!”

“It’s not like you’ve never had oral before.”

“What would I know about that!”

His once-polite tone had turned childish.

“Hey, why are you crying?”

He turned his face away and didn’t answer.

“Did it hurt? Well, I did it rough on purpose, after all.”

He glared at me again.

“Don’t look at me like that. This wasn’t rape; it was consensual. If you didn’t like it, or if it hurt, you should have said so.”

The cop lay back down on his stomach. His continued, conspicuous crying started to make Momota feel awkward.

“Look, I know I was kind of rough, but don’t cry so much.”

Even apologizing humbly didn’t work.

“If you hated it enough to cry like that, you should have just backed out. You only got hurt because you took the bait, right?”

Momota hesitantly reached out and gently patted the trembling head. Somehow, the grown man looked like a real child to him.

“Being prideful isn’t always a good thing. Well, just think of me as a bad dog that bit you and forget about it.”

The cop finally raised his head. His face was a mess of tears and snot.

“...I don’t regret it. But I can’t stop crying.”

“Crying means you regret it.”

The cop hung his head, closing his eyes. Even with his eyes closed, tears slipped out from the corners.

“You’re not really into men, are you?”

He gave a small nod with his trembling head.

“You’re not even into men, but you let an ex-con worse than a homeless guy have you. Even I think that’s pretty low.”

The cop, his head bowed, sneezed twice in quick succession, both times sounding wet and congested. His nose was running. Noticing his desperate search for something, Momota handed him a box of tissues that was next to him. The cop blew his nose and shivered.

“Once you stop moving, it gets cold, doesn’t it? That old hag must be skimping on the heating.”

Momota pulled the blanket over and draped it over himself and the cop. Inside the blanket, the cop turned his back to Momota. But he was still shivering, as if cold.

When Momota pulled the slender body close, the cop squirmed a bit.

“I’m not gonna do anything else. I’m dry as a bone down there. You’re cold, aren’t you? Just stay close to me.”

The body, once warm and moist, had already dried and grown cold. Feeling a mix of guilt for making him cry and wanting to provide comfort, Momota snuggled closer to his chilled body.

What a strange situation, he thought. It was the worst morning ever when he woke up from his failed suicide attempt. He would have never imagined that by night, he’d be sleeping close to someone like this.

Wasn’t he supposed to want to die? Didn’t he want to jump off that bridge? Wasn’t he supposed to disappear like the scum he was...?

As he pressed his nose against the smooth nape of the cop’s neck, his shoulder twitched. The scent of sweat stirred something in him, even though he thought he was completely spent. Having just promised he wouldn’t do anything, he couldn’t go back on his word. But he was getting turned on...

Momota reached out with his right hand and gripped the cop’s penis firmly.

“D-Don’t touch me!”

The cop’s voice cracked in panic.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything else.”

“What’s the big deal? I just touched it a little, didn’t I? Just checking to see if your dick caught a cold.”

“There’s no way you’d know from touching it there!”

“I would.”

The cop turned to look at me.

“That’s a lie.”

“No, I’m serious. In prison, that’s how we checked each other’s health.”

As Momota put on a serious face, the cop’s resolute expression slowly began to crumble.

“...Is that really true?” he asked cautiously. Momota burst out laughing, and it was clear from his reaction that it was a lie. The cop turned his face away with an angry expression. Still laughing loudly, Momota pulled the body in front of him into a tight hug.

He suddenly felt an intense urge to see the cop's face, which had been turned away the entire time. Momota pushed the cop onto his back and climbed on top of him.

Propping himself up on his elbows beside the cop’s head, Momota stared directly at his face. He’d been so focused on his ass earlier that he hadn’t really looked at his face, but he was actually quite handsome. Come to think of it, he’d thought the same thing when he first saw him…

He grabbed the cop’s ears with both hands and kissed him. Lightly, just a peck. The surprised expression on the cop’s face was oddly cute, so Momota kissed him again. He wanted to slide his tongue in, but the cop clenched his teeth tightly, refusing.

“Come on, let me kiss you properly.”

The cop looked like he was about to cry.

“Properly...?”

“Don’t turn away. Open your mouth and give me your tongue.”

After Momota said that, the cop finally opened his mouth. He sucked on the timid tongue, giving it a light bite. Then, changing the angle, he kissed the cop’s gasping lips over and over, ending with a kiss that almost seemed to cradle his head.

It felt so good it gave him chills, but after wetting his lips and panting heavily, Momota couldn’t help but blurt out his honest opinion, “Man, you’re really bad at this

“I don’t have much experience…” the cop said, looking away.

“But when you’re with a woman, you’re the one leading, right?”

“I’ve never... done anything like this before.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t this kind of kissing nice? Do you do kiddie kisses when you have sex, too?”

“I told you, I don’t have much experience…”

“But you’ve had sex before, right?”

The cop’s expression froze. His mouth hung slightly open, unmoving. Normally, this was where someone would say, “Of course I have.” Momota swallowed hard.

“...Don’t tell me, you’re a virgin”

No reaction. Momota’s heart skipped a beat.

“I wasn’t your first... was I?”

"I've kissed before."

The officer's feeble protest meant nothing to Momota. Even elementary school kids could manage a kiddie kiss. Not knowing either men or women, and then this being his first time—what the hell? Plus, it was practically consensual rape... this is the worst. Momota clicked his tongue in frustration and scratched his head vigorously. He was unsettled by this unexpected first experience, acting agitated despite his age.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"That's weird. At your age, it's normal to have experience with five or ten people."

"I never had the opportunity..."

"No opportunities? For thirty thousand yen, you could get laid at a brothel."

"I don't want to go to those kinds of places."

You don’t want to? Really...? Momota propped himself up on his elbows, cradling his head in his hands. From his perspective, a guy should lose his virginity by fifteen or sixteen, and if a man didn't know a woman by his twenties, he was probably either gay or a mama's boy.

But he seemed serious, a bit uptight, so maybe it's possible to still be a virgin at his age if he's a late bloomer. It's a world Momota couldn't understand, but this guy said that's how it was for him.

Still, would a virgin suddenly tell a gay guy, "Do what you want"? Stick his own fingers up his ass? How much determination did it take for him to strip off his clothes... The more Momota thought about it, the more his chest felt prickly. He just happened to see him. There was no need to seriously engage with the nonsense of an ex-con. It's only a loss.

Momota wriggled under the futon and grabbed the officer's legs.

"What are you doing?"

"Just shut up for a bit. If you struggle, I'll bite your dick off. I won't hurt you. I'll make you come in five minutes."

He took the officer's shriveled penis into his mouth. It had gotten erect when he played with his prostate, but once he inserted it, it shrank again. In the end, this guy never came even once during the whole thing.

Targeting the spots he thought would feel good, Momota went full throttle with his technique from the start. After all, he was a man, and it seemed like he didn't dislike feeling good—his limp penis gradually grew larger and hotter in Momota's mouth. He sucked out every drop of the thick, bitter fluid. When he finally raised his head, the officer was blushing furiously, hiding his face with both arms.

"Did it feel good?"

He said nothing.

"If you don't answer, I'll do it again."

At that, the officer hastily nodded, and Momota felt relieved. If all he remembered was the pain in his ass from his first time, that would be too cruel. He wanted to make him come at least once.

The officer remained silent, his face still covered. Momota lay beside him, staring at his bright red earlobes.

He's cute... Momota thought honestly. Getting so shy he can't even speak—he's way too innocent.

I want him. I really want him. If he were mine, I’d cherish him every single night. Next time, I'd use plenty of lotion so it wouldn't hurt, and I’d make him come by hitting his prostate with my dick.

This is no good… Momota cradled his head in his hands. This guy is a cop. This happened on a whim, but there's no way it could continue.

I’m not the kind of guy a decent person would take an interest in. I have no job, no home, no money. All I’ve got is a drug record. And it’s not like my face could save me either—it’s below average. No one’s ever called me handsome, not even once.

Maybe I’m just extra worked up because he turned out to be a virgin. Thinking that, Momota pinched the officer's bright red earlobe.

The arms hiding his face slowly fell away. The officer tilted his head just slightly and glanced at Momota with an unsure look in his eyes.

Momota gulped. This guy’s adorable. So damn cute. Sensing the unease in him, the officer was about to pull away, but Momota drew him close and kissed him. Even the sloppy deep kiss, which he had thought the cop was bad at, excited him now that he realized he was the only one who’d ever done it with him.

Could I be his first and last man? I don’t want anyone else to have him. I want to make him mine somehow…

Saliva that couldn’t be swallowed trickled from the corner of the cop’s mouth. Momota gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“If you… if you say you’ll stick with me like this, then I guess I could stay alive.”

The officer’s eyes widened as he looked up at Momota.

“I’ll work hard, find an apartment, and quit drugs. But I’ll only stay on the straight and narrow path as long as you keep sticking by me. The moment you start pushing me away or find yourself another man or woman, it’s over.”

The naïve officer asked, "Really, you won’t think about throwing your life away anymore?" It was the life of a foolish man, not worth picking up. He could just leave him be, but the officer’s refusal to turn a blind eye, his kindness, made Momota’s chest ache.

“If you abandon me, I’ll do bad things again. And if that happens, it’ll be your fault. So if you say something, make sure you stand by your words.”

Threatening him with childish logic, Momota was inwardly pleading, “Just say yes.”

The officer nodded. Momota buried his face into the officer’s neck, nuzzling against the sweaty scent.

“Tell me your name. I want to know your name.”

He asked in a muffled voice.

“Hamauzu Ron.”

“Ron?”

“Ron, as in 'ron' from the word 'to argue¹.'"

Ron... With a rolling sound to it, Momota whispered the name softly by his lips.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

All sorts of customers come to Momota’s shop. Most are amateurs with a bit of an S&M kink, but occasionally, someone from the underworld would come by for some fun.

Old-fashioned yakuza, once they got familiar with you, would sometimes invite you out for a meal, saying, "You've always taken care of me." The part-timers would get nervous and try to avoid it, but Momota would go. He had done odd jobs for low-level yakuza in the past, and when he was doing drugs, he had bought from them as well. As long as you didn't make them angry or get too involved, they weren't scary. Besides, constantly refusing their invitations could make them feel disrespected, which would be even worse. Entertaining them was also part of the job.

It was past the middle of February. On a night when the shop was closed, Momota had been invited by Kimura, a member of the Matsuzaka gang, whose turf included the area where Momota’s office was located. They were having soba together.

“Your shop has good-quality women,” Kimura said.

They were in a private room of a high-class soba restaurant, where a hanging scroll decorated the alcove and the sound of a koto played softly in the background. In front of Momota, besides the soba, there were plates piled with sashimi of sea bream, abalone, and more sushi than he could eat. Slightly tipsy from the sake, Kimura was in high spirits.

“They’re not beauties, but they’re all good-natured. A face with charm is more endearing than one that’s too beautiful,” he continued.

Kimura was in his mid-forties, well-built and tough-looking, but he had a bit of a mommy complex. At the shop, he favored a hostess named Kaori, and he had a fondness for a play where she would scold him as he wet himself.

“We really appreciate all the help you’ve given us, Kimura-san…”

The shop pays the Matsuzaka gang a monthly protection fee of 20,000 yen. Considering the going rate, that’s practically nothing. Kimura didn’t like his preferences being known by his underlings, so he made sure to keep things discreet in exchange for a bit of favoritism.

“Momota, I’ve got a good business deal for you.”

Not this again... Momota thought, but he asked anyway, “What is it?”

“How about doing some sales for us?”

Momota didn’t need to ask to know that by “sales,” Kimura meant dealing meth. He’d been approached about it before.

“We’ve been using some black guys up until now, but they’re just no good. They either start using themselves or skip town, making them hard to manage. But you know the ins and outs, Momota, and I think you’d handle things smoothly.”

Scratching his head, Momota shook it, saying, “Nah, no way I could handle that. I’m not smart, and I don’t have the guts. You know that, Kimura-san. I’ve been busted three times. If I did sales, I’d just end up losing money, not making any.”

“But…” Kimura found it hard to drop the matter.

“The truth is, I’m seeing someone six years younger than me, and they’re just incredibly cute. If I screw up and get sent off to a ‘villa’ (prison), I’d be leaving them all alone. Just thinking about some bad guys getting close while I’m away keeps me up at night.”

“Isn’t his name Ron?” Momota leaned over the table, surprised.

“How do you know that?”

Kimura grinned. “I heard it from Kaori. She said you’re all about Ron and don’t pay attention to any of the girls at the shop.”

Jeez, this is embarrassing… Momota wiped his face with the wet towel.

“Well, she’s right, though. If someone stole him away, I’d definitely kill them,” he muttered.

Kimura shrugged his shoulders. “That’s pretty dangerous talk,” he said, lowering his voice.

“I’d rather you keep this to yourself than let the girls at the shop Punish Me, but I was Ron’s first,” Momota admitted.

Kimura, still slightly drunk, raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t know any other men. So, I’d like to be his first and last...”

Kimura grinned and folded his arms. “That’s romantic…” he said, smirking. Suddenly, a ringtone sounded, and Kimura pulled out his phone. “Sorry, Momota, just a moment,” he said, stepping out of the room.

Momota was drinking beer alone when he suddenly felt the urge to pee and got up. He asked a waitress outside the room, "Where's the bathroom?" She told him, "Turn right at the end of the hall, and it’s right there."

As he hummed a small tune and reached the end of the hallway, he heard Kimura's angry voice from the right: "You idiot!" He stopped in his tracks, startled.

"What were you listening to? Tomorrow is the cow, you moron!"

From his tone, it seemed like one of his underlings had screwed up. Maybe I’ll put off peeing for now, Momota thought as he turned to leave.

“What's this? The location’s been changed? And… yeah, Sakikawa S4…”

Momota quietly returned to the room, making sure not to make a sound. Within a few minutes, Kimura came back.

“Sorry about that,” Kimura said as he sat heavily across from him, still frowning and sighing.

“Kimura-san, you seem busy,” Momota said.

“No, it’s not that bad. It’s just that so many of the younger guys these days are useless. They have no guts. Back in the day, even the dumb ones had some spirit...”

“I guess being in a higher position means you have to take care of your underlings and deal with all sorts of things,” Momota said.

“Nah, I’m still just a low-ranking member,” Kimura replied.

Momota filled Kimura's empty sake cup and said, “Well, how about another drink?”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Momota parted ways with Kimura at 10 PM. Kimura had invited him to a club in Ginza, but he turned that down.

Momota had been thinking about what Kimura discussed on the phone the entire time. Kimura was the one handling methamphetamines within the Matsuzaka gang. Momota knew this because Kimura had somehow sniffed out Momota’s past imprisonment for drugs and had approached him with, "I can give you a good deal on some if you want, Momo-san."

If Ron-chan ever caught him using drugs, their relationship would end right then and there. That was no joke. Each time Kimura tried to recruit him, he would gently refuse, saying, "I’ve quit that stuff," or "After two stints in the joint, I’ve learned my lesson." Because of this, Kimura thought of him as a “strong-willed man who could indulge in drugs yet quit for good,” and, thinking he had enough self-control, had started suggesting Momota become a dealer.

The phone call earlier might have been about a deal. The yakuza use all sorts of strange code words to keep the police from catching on. “Tomorrow’s cow,” “Sakikawa,” “S4”… “cow” was probably a reference to the time. The rest was unclear.

He thought about ignoring it, but he couldn’t shake his curiosity. After returning to his apartment, Momota took out his phone.

If this was really about a drug deal, maybe he could share the information and help Ron-chan out. However, he didn’t have concrete proof that it was deal information—he had only overheard something while passing by.

After much hesitation, Momota decided to send Ron-chan a message. He didn’t want to call since it might bother him while he was at work, so he always used email instead.

Less than five minutes after sending the email, his phone rang.

“Hey, Momo, it’s me…”

“Ron-chan, is this a good time?”

“I was just filling out some paperwork. I read your email. How did you get that information?”

“I was having dinner with this gang member named Kimura who deals with the Matsuzaka gang’s drugs. Then he got a phone call, and I overheard it.”

“I see...” Ron-chan muttered.

“Momo, do you often go out to eat with this gang member?”

“Sometimes. The shop pays them a protection fee, and he helps us out in various ways. It’s just business.”

“That gang member knows you heard the conversation on the phone, right?”

“I don’t think so. He stepped out of the room and was talking near the bathroom. I happened to be heading out to take a leak and overheard him in the hallway. He was talking around a corner, so he didn’t see me, and I didn’t see him.”

Ron-chan was silent on the other end of the line.

“The information you gave might be useful. But if I report this, something bad could happen to you. You could be suspected, or they might start watching you more closely…”

“They don’t know I heard anything, so it’s fine. Besides, who would ever think a three-time ex-con like me would have a detective as a friend?”

“But still…”

“And it might not even be about a deal. I just thought it could help you out, even if just a little. Don’t worry about me.”

“...Got it. Thanks, Momo.”

The call ended. He didn’t expect to hear Ron-chan’s voice. And on top of that, he said, “Thank you.” Those small words of gratitude made Momota smile, alone in his room.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW, dubcon.

1. In Japanese, the character for Ron (論) means "argument" or "debate." By saying “Ron, as in 'ron' from the word 'to argue,’” Momota is indicating that Ron (論) is written with the kanji used in words related to discussing or debating.

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