La Vie En Rose: Chapter 2 - Part 2

Previous TOC Next

From then on, there was always a supply of strawberry milk in Momota’s refrigerator. Even though Momota never drank it, the carton always had “For Ron-chan” written on it in black marker. Hamauzu couldn’t quite tell whether it was an act of kindness or a prank.

A three-time offender, a gay man with a suicide attempt. That was all Hamauzu had thought of Momota at first, but as he got to know him better, his perception began to change little by little.

Momota would quickly become lonely and cry over the smallest things. He was straightforward, talkative, and laughed a lot. When Hamauzu was with Momota, he found himself laughing along. He didn’t mind it.

The sex felt incredibly better compared to before. Sometimes, just a kiss or a touch was enough to make him climax. He began staying over more often in the room he had once decided was just a place for sex. It was clean, and he started to feel as comfortable there as he did in his own room. Besides, when he stayed over, there was breakfast in the morning. He began to look forward to it, secretly wondering what would be served that day.

One morning, he woke up hungry, but Momota was still sound asleep. He had a faint, happy smile on his face. What kind of dream is he having...? Hamauzu wondered as he watched that unguarded face, and soon found himself laughing softly.

Suddenly, he felt an urge to kiss him. Acting on impulse, Hamauzu kissed those defenseless lips. Just a brief, light touch. Even so, Momota woke up. He furrowed his brows and blinked sleepily, his eyes squinting. Embarrassed by what he had done, Hamauzu tried to pull away, but Momota grabbed his arm, causing him to fall onto his chest.

“Good morning, Ron-chan.” 

In the warmth of Momota's chest, Hamauzu blushed deeply. His heart was racing like he was sick, and it wouldn’t settle down. Momota tried to lift his head, but Hamauzu clung to his chest, pressing his face against it, not wanting him to see the ridiculous expression he was sure he had.

“What’s wrong?” 

Momota ruffled his hair as if messing it up. The gesture, like something one would do to a child, felt surprisingly good. Without knowing why, Hamauzu suddenly felt like crying.

“I’m hungry…” 

Momota’s chest moved as he laughed. 

“Ron-chan, what do you want to eat?” 

Is this what love is? Hamauzu wondered if he might actually like this person. At the age of twenty-six, he realized it for the first time.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even after admitting the possibility that he might be in love, Hamauzu remained cautious. He started listing the reasons one by one: because Momota listened to any conversation seriously, because he never looked bored, because even though he put himself down sometimes, he never spoke ill of others, because he laughed a lot, because he wasn’t pretentious, and above all, because being with him made Hamauzu feel safe…

Since he had work, they met only once every four days. Even though Hamauzu had set that rule himself, he found himself wanting to see Momota every day. What had started as an obligatory sex now became something he desired of his own accord.

As this continued, Momota’s birthday was approaching. Hamauzu had only heard the date once, but the way it sounded had stuck with him, so he hadn’t forgotten. 

He wanted to give Momota something… but he had no idea what would make a good gift. It was the first time he’d ever considered giving a present to someone outside his family.

Since consulting about Momota, Jingoro—who had been mean before—had completely changed his attitude, becoming a reliable older brother figure who said, "Well, if you ever need anything, just come to me." Hamauzu decided to ask Jingoro what kind of present would be good. 

Jingoro suggested, “For a woman, it’s got to be a brand name. Louis Vuitton or Prada or something. Don’t be cheap.” But this wasn’t very helpful.

For Hamauzu's birthday, Momota had given him a watch. After thinking long and hard about what to give, he decided on a watch as well. He had noticed that the glass face of Momota’s watch was scratched and cloudy, and the strap was worn out. 

He also hoped that by giving a watch to the man who had confessed with a watch before, it would convey that he felt the same way.

When he gave the watch on Momota’s birthday, the man understood his intention perfectly and hesitantly asked, “Even just a little, do you… d-do you like me?” Hamauzu replied honestly, “I like you.” 

Hearing this, Momota said he was so happy to hear those words that he felt like he had used up all his luck for a lifetime, and he crouched down in front of Hamauzu, crying like a child. In that moment, Hamauzu realized, from the bottom of his heart, that he loved this man. He also felt that there would probably never be another person in his life who would love him as much as Momota did. 

He decided that he would never let this man do anything bad again. As long as he was by his side, he wouldn’t let it happen. He wanted to protect him from anything wrong and never let him feel regret again... This wasn’t out of duty or sympathy.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

This year marks the sixth year of Hamauzu's relationship with Momota. No matter how many years pass, his feelings of love do not fade. He believes that he loves and is loved in return.

Even though it was a path he chose for himself, the male-dominated and cutthroat world of police work only grew more bitter the longer he stayed in it. A rigid, hierarchical society shaped like a perfect pyramid. People rejoiced at their colleagues' mistakes to further their own careers, trampling others down. They shifted blame to their subordinates without hesitation to protect themselves. Even personal feelings of superiors influenced the progress of investigations. It made him sick to his stomach.

People are influenced by their environment. In a place where men's pride constantly sparks like flint, where murder is the norm, and the world is entangled in a web of grudges, jealousy, and money, one begins to despair of humanity. One stops expecting anything from anyone. 

Eventually, the familiar scenes of tragedy became nothing more than “situations” that he viewed through his eyes, and he almost forgot that the victims were people. At such times, he needed Momota. He needed to be loved as much as possible, with words, with the body. 

In doing so, he could remember that the victims, too, had people who cared about them, and he was working for those people.

He knew that a relationship between men was unconventional and despised in police society. But to continue living as the kind of detective he wanted to be, Momota was absolutely necessary to him.

People naturally gathered around his honest and cheerful lover. It became even more apparent after Momota started working for an outcall escort service. The employees often came to him for advice.

While he didn’t intend to deny Momota’s job or the adult entertainment industry, he couldn't help but worry about a job dealing with “sex,” where there would likely be many temptations. There was always a possibility that someone who liked Momota’s bright and friendly nature might appear. Just thinking about someone more charming and better at conversation than him, someone who could always be there for his lonely lover, made him feel miserable. 

Mitsui Rinako, the murdered woman, seemed to have had a fondness for Momota. In reality, Hamauzu had only seen her in the crime scene photos, so he could never confirm this directly with her. Momota himself said that Rina was just hanging around him for fun. 

The sudden creaking sound of a chair snapped Hamauzu out of his thoughts. He realized that he had been lost in thought, forgetting that he was conducting an interrogation. There was no time to waste. He took a deep breath.

“We know that you were in a relationship with Rinako Mitsui, that you had dinner with her on the day she was murdered, left a familiar club together at 9:10 p.m., and went home with her. The estimated time of her murder is between 10 p.m. and midnight. You say you parted ways after a fight in front of her room, but you have no alibi.” 

Yokotani turned his head away and clicked his tongue. 

“Stop making me repeat myself. I already told you I went home and fell asleep right away. How the hell am I supposed to prove I was sleeping?” 

"…There’s a witness statement from a resident of your building saying they heard loud noises from your room around 9:30 p.m." 

“How should I know!” 

“They wanted to focus on a test the next day, but it was so noisy that they couldn’t concentrate.” 

Yokotani fell silent again. There was no doubt that Yokotani had killed Rina. The problem was that they hadn’t found a definite piece of evidence like the murder weapon yet. If he had been coached while in hiding, it was natural that he would stubbornly refuse to confess. 

In the information gathered from their inquiries, there was a story that Yokotani, concerned about Rina’s excessive use of stimulants, had been limiting her doses significantly. Hamauzu could sympathize with the desire to love and protect someone you cared about. Yet, despite how precious Rina had been to him, Yokotani had still harmed her.

Hamauzu thought to himself: if it were him, no matter how he was betrayed, he would never think of killing Momota. The idea of Momota dying and disappearing from this world, of never being able to see him again, was more terrifying. 

“Aren’t you sad that she’s gone?” 

Rather than confront him directly with “murder,” Hamauzu tried to appeal to his emotions. Yokotani raised his head and sneered. 

“Sad? Over a slut like her?” 

“A slut?” 

“She was the kind of woman who would spread her legs for anyone just to get her hands on drugs.” 

“Still, didn’t you love her?” 

Yokotani fell silent once more. 

“Sure, she had a wild past with men, but I’ve heard that since she started seeing you, she’d been toning it down.” 

“She was screwing the manager of the escort service!” 

Hamauzu swallowed hard. 

“A nearly forty-year-old, ugly pervert with a drug record. The worst.” 

The age was quite exaggerated, but there was no doubt he was talking about Momota. Don’t get rattled, he reminded himself. Yokotani was just making things up; there was no sexual relationship between the two. Momota had said so himself. 

“That guy was a drug dealer. Maybe he’s the one who killed Rina. When she was out of drugs, she’d keep nagging, ‘Gimme, gimme.’” 

“How did you know the escort service manager was a drug dealer?” 

Yokotani's face showed signs of agitation. 

“I saw him dealing at the club from time to time.” 

“If you thought he was the murderer, why didn’t you tell the police sooner?” 

Momota knew that Yokotani was a dealer. If he accused Momota of being the real culprit, there was a risk that Momota might reveal Yokotani's identity. Even though he understood he shouldn’t say it, during the pressure of being questioned for murder, he ended up framing Momota as the “dealer and murderer.”

“If it were me, and my lover was murdered, I’d want the killer caught as soon as possible. So if there were someone suspicious, I’d inform the police. You could do it with a phone call; you wouldn’t even have to go to the station. And if you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t have to give your name… Why didn’t you do that?”

“I told you, that slut meant nothing to me!” 

Hamauzu paused to think for a moment. 

“The manager of the escort service you mentioned has an alibi for the time of Mitsui’s murder. There are witnesses.” 

He paused briefly. 

“That man admitted to knowing Mitsui, but denied any physical relationship with her.” 

Yokotani’s shoulders trembled slightly as he lowered his head. 

“How could you know that!” 

“How did you find out she was cheating on you?” 

“Emails! When she wasn’t around, I checked her messages and saw that she was sending a ton of them to some guy named ‘Momota.’ And they were all stupid stuff. It pissed me off, so I deleted them all, and then she flipped out on me.” 

“So at that time, did she tell you she was having an affair with the escort manager?” 

Yokotani fell silent again. 

“She didn’t say she had sex with him, did she?” 

Hamauzu chose his words carefully, suggesting that mere feelings alone might not constitute cheating. Yokotani clenched his hands tightly on the steel desk. 

“...If it was just cheating, that would’ve been easier. Even I would mess around with other women when she wasn’t around. But that was just for fun, so it didn’t matter. But she said she was serious.” 

Yokotani gritted his teeth. 

“She said she was serious. That she was going to break up with me. Even when I told her she was being fooled, she insisted it wasn’t true. She went as far as saying she was going to marry the guy and become a housewife while working at the escort service. I thought she was out of her mind.” 

As he listened, Hamauzu felt a heaviness in his chest. He had only ever seen Mitsui Rinako in photographs. Most likely, she had genuinely been in love with Momota. 

“When I shouted, ‘Was the sex with a junkie that good?’ she said she wasn’t sleeping with him. She said, ‘Momota isn’t that reckless’... She made a fool out of me!” 

“And then you got angry and strangled Mitsui?” 

Yokotani’s eyes widened as he looked at Hamauzu. 

“You thought that, even though you truly loved and cared for her, she had betrayed you.” 

Hamauzu’s voice echoed calmly. Yokotani’s teeth chattered with fear. 

“But even after killing her, it didn’t solve anything for you, did it?” 

“Shut up!” 

Yokotani stood up. The steel chair fell over sideways. The assistant in the interrogation room moved to restrain him, but Hamauzu raised his right hand to stop him. 

“What the hell do you know about it!” 

Yokotani’s roar echoed like that of a beast, and then silence filled the interrogation room. Hamauzu gazed steadily at Yokotani’s flushed face.

“I understand that being betrayed by someone you loved was painful.” 

Yokotani’s face twisted in agony. 

“From our inquiries, we learned that you cared for her in your own way.” 

Yokotani collapsed onto the floor as if his strength had left him. He curled up tightly, clutching his head. 

“I... I...” 

His voice trembled. 

“I never really meant to kill her. But then she said she didn’t even like me a little. Even though she kept saying she ‘liked’ me so much, she admitted she only slept with me to get drugs. Then she said she truly loved that guy Momota… and I just… I didn’t want to hear it anymore, so I...” 

Hamauzu picked up the chair and approached, helping the shaking man back into his seat. Suddenly, Yokotani gripped Hamauzu’s arm tightly. 

“I-I didn’t think she’d actually die! I didn’t mean to strangle her that hard, but she just… stopped moving...” 

Some might call it just a trivial love affair. But knowing firsthand how serious this issue could be for someone, Hamauzu couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Yokotani. Not being loved is painful, especially when it’s someone you care about. But that didn’t mean he could forgive the crime of murder.

“I never meant to kill her.” 

Yokotani’s regret was encapsulated in that single sentence. 

Hamauzu decided not to tell Momota about Rina's genuine feelings for him. Knowing that would only hurt Momota. He would end up blaming himself for not realizing her true feelings… So, Hamauzu resolved to keep it in his heart for the rest of his life.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The interrogation time for that day ended while they were taking the deposition from Yokotani, who had confessed to the murder. There wasn’t enough time to get him to talk about the methamphetamine case as well.

The next day, Hamauzu was sent back to the investigation headquarters for the "Rina murder" case. Even the busy police chief stepped in to handle Yokotani’s interrogation. It seemed the chief didn’t want to lose face and let lower-ranking detectives look down on him.

In the late afternoon, Hamauzu had lunch at a soba shop near the station. When dealing with long-running cases, some detectives avoid eating noodles because they associate them with things stretching out or getting prolonged. Hamauzu liked noodles and didn’t believe in superstitions. However, he felt uncomfortable eating noodles at the station, so he often went out to eat alone.

“Hey, Hamauzu!”

He turned around and saw Detective Jingoro from the Organized Crime Division, based in the local precinct where the joint investigation headquarters was set up.

“Long time no see.”

“It’s been about six months since we last saw each other.”

Jingoro told his younger partner, “You go on ahead,” and sat down next to Hamauzu.

The year after Hamauzu became a detective, Jingoro also became a detective at the same precinct. Hamauzu was in the First Investigative Division, in charge of violent crime investigations, while Jingoro was in the Organized Crime Division. The precinct, which included Tokyo’s entertainment districts, frequently saw murders, leading to the establishment of joint investigation headquarters with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's First Investigative Division. Hamauzu made significant contributions to these investigations and was quickly recruited to the First Investigative Division of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police.

At first, Hamauzu thought he and Jingoro wouldn’t get along, but now Jingoro was one of his closest confidants. He realized later that, with someone like Jingoro, it was better to rely on him openly rather than oppose his methods.

Jingoro never told anyone about Hamauzu’s odd story of “maintaining a physical relationship at the request of a suicidal person,” which could easily be gossip fodder. Despite his rough appearance and reputation for being persistent, even being nicknamed "the Snake" behind his back, Jingoro was compassionate and tight-lipped. Among all the detectives, Hamauzu trusted Jingoro the most.

“They’ll probably dissolve the investigation headquarters soon. I heard you were the one who got the suspect to confess.”

Hamauzu hadn’t expected the information to reach the local precinct so quickly.

“They say you’re a master at interrogations, but those who know you here were a bit puzzled. You were terrible at interrogations back when you were at the precinct.”

Hamauzu gave a wry smile.

“I only got the confession because I was lucky.”

Jingoro laughed heartily.

“By the way, that tip you gave me back in February was really helpful. I owe you one.”

Previously, Hamauzu had received information about a Matsuzaka gang methamphetamine deal through Momota. However, since Hamauzu was in the Homicide Division of the First Investigative Division, he couldn’t make use of the drug-related information. So he passed the tip to Jingoro in the Organized Crime Division at the precinct. Jingoro succeeded in seizing a large quantity of methamphetamine and arrested low-ranking members of the Matsuzaka gang.

“Information is just information. I think it was because you believed my vague words and took action that you got such a big result.”

“You’re quite humble, aren’t you?” Jingoro shrugged. Hamauzu quickly glanced around before saying, “Shall we take a walk?” and invited Jingoro outside. Jingoro seemed to understand his intentions from the look and got up from his seat. Jingoro treated Hamauzu to the soba, saying it was for the tip.

They walked side by side into a nearby park. Since it was a weekday afternoon, it was deserted.

“Do you have any information about the Matsuzaka gang?”

Hamauzu asked directly without beating around the bush. Jingoro hesitated for a moment before replying.

“Aren’t you supposed to specialize in homicide? Why are you digging into drug-related stuff?”

“The suspect in this murder case was a dealer for the Matsuzaka gang.”

“I know that. But he’s already been caught and confessed, right?”

“He admitted to the murder, but he denied any involvement with methamphetamines. I wanted to press him on that, but we ran out of time...”

Jingoro furrowed his brow.

“Even with your lousy interrogation skills, getting him to confess to murder is already an accomplishment. Don’t get greedy. And you’re always saying, ‘Tell me, tell me,’ but this is classified information I can’t just go around sharing.”

“Then let’s make a trade—I’ll give you some information in exchange.”

Jingoro’s eyes seemed to gleam for a moment.

“What kind of information?”

“It’s an exchange, remember. What happened to the Matsuzaka gang dealer and the escort service manager after that?”

Jingoro scratched his head, looking annoyed.

“He’s disappeared. He quit his job, didn’t return to his apartment, and we haven’t been able to track him down at all. Seems like he got wind of our movements. I didn’t think I made any mistakes... The gang’s been looking for him too, but he’s pretty fast on his feet.”

As soon as Jingoro had informed him that Momota was a methamphetamine dealer, Hamauzu had hidden Momota in his brother's apartment. The police hadn’t noticed yet. It’s fine.

“What are you scheming?”

“I just want to take down the Matsuzaka gang.”

While Hamauzu didn’t want to get too involved with the yakuza, he knew that without being aware of the local police’s movements, he couldn’t protect Momota when it mattered. Moreover, unless the Matsuzaka gang was dismantled, Momota would be endlessly pursued by the gang.

"Well, I also think it’d be great if we could take them down, but you say it like it’s easy. In reality, it’s really tough."

Jingoro remained seated on the bench, arms crossed.

“…Since the crackdown on imports from overseas, the Matsuzaka gang intends to mainly distribute domestically produced stuff for a while."

Jingoro turned around with sudden interest.

“There’s a production facility somewhere in the country. If we can locate and hit that, it should cause considerable damage."

I could hear Jingoro swallow hard.

“The ones handling the goods for the Matsuzaka gang are Kimura and his underlings. It seems like the underboss oversees everything, but Kimura is the one actually moving things around. If we keep a close watch on these two and those around them, we might be able to trace it back to the manufacturing source."

Jingoro lit a cigarette. His fingers trembled a little.

“Where the hell do you get such good intel?”

“I’m acquainted with someone who knows a lot about the inside.”

“The information you bring is so good it’s scary. Introduce this informant to me too.”

“I met them by chance; they’re not an informant. Just an ordinary person..."

“You’re as mysterious as ever."

Jingoro let out a long sigh.

“Mysterious, huh?”

“Sometimes, I wonder what the hell you’re thinking. Do you even have any friends in the First Division?”

“That’s a place for work.”

“Workplace, huh…” Jingoro muttered.

“By the way, are you still seeing that older woman from the Chinese restaurant?”

Hamauzu gave a wry smile.

“I told you before that she quit working at the Chinese restaurant.”

“Oh, did you? But it’s been a long time, right? Six years, was it? Since you’ve been together that long, why don’t you just bite the bullet and get married?”

“There are various circumstances, so I don’t think we can get married until I quit being a detective.”

Jingoro looked at Hamauzu in surprise.

“Is she an ex-convict or something?”

“That’s part of it.”

Jingoro grumbled, “You sure got tangled up with a difficult woman.”

“She’s a good person.”

“What do you mean, a good person? She’s the kind of woman who threatens to kill herself to get a man to take care of her. But, well, even if she’s that kind of woman, if you’ve fallen for her, there’s nothing you can do.”

“I’m in love with her, but she’s also crazy about me.”

Jingoro burst out laughing, nearly spitting out his cigarette. Looking at Hamauzu and squinting, he clutched his stomach and laughed uproariously.

Wheezing and gasping for air, Jingoro warned, “Don’t ever brag like that in front of anyone else but me.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

About a month and a half after the incident with Rina, Kimura, a member of the Matsuzaka gang, and his underling were arrested. The charges were attempted murder and drug possession. The victim was Yasuo Momota… It turned out to be the worst possible scenario.

Momota had been suspected of being the informant who leaked information, so when he was lured out with the promise of being taken to a meth production site, he naively took the bait and went out, only to be brutally beaten by Kimura.

After being beaten to a pulp, Momota was given a large dose of methamphetamine and then dumped in a car. Fortunately, Jingoro’s partner had been tailing Kimura’s car for days, so Momota was quickly rescued, but he had gone into shock from the overdose. Hamauzu was told by the doctor, "Be prepared for the worst."

In the hospital room, Hamauzu could do nothing but watch his lover, who was hooked up to machines, not opening his eyes or responding at all. He worried about what he would do if Momota died, but he didn’t want to imagine such a thing. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Momota.

The day after Momota was admitted to the hospital, Hamauzu went there after finishing work. At the entrance to the hospital room, he was stopped by a man in his late thirties who looked every bit the detective. When Hamauzu showed his police badge, the man’s expression changed to one of surprise, and he hastily moved aside from in front of the door. Momota’s sister-in-law was sitting by his bedside, looking exhausted. She said there hadn’t been much change in his condition.

After looking at Momota’s face for about ten minutes, Hamauzu left the room. As he exited the hospital’s main entrance, he heard someone call out, “Hey!” Jingoro emerged from the shadows under a streetlight.

“You sure pulled a fast one on me.”

Jingoro’s expression was clearly irritated.

“What do you mean...?”

“I told the guy watching the room to notify me if Detective Hamauzu showed up.”

“Oh, so that’s why.”

“‘So that’s why?’ My ass! What’s going on here? You knew that dealer, didn’t you? And yet you acted like you didn’t know anything and got information out of me!”

“I met him back when I was still a junior officer. The information I passed on to you was something he picked up.”

“I don’t give a damn about that! The problem is that you betrayed me!”

“Please find the evidence quickly.”

Jingoro furrowed his brow.

“We can build a case for attempted murder based on the eyewitness accounts of the detectives, no matter how much Kimura denies it. But regarding the illegal drug possession, he’s going to stubbornly deny it because admitting it would lead to a raid on their organization. So please, find the evidence as soon as possible and conduct a search of the Matsuzaka gang’s premises.”

Hamauzu bowed his head.

“I’m already on it without you telling me!”

A silence settled between them.

“What’s your relationship with that dealer?”

When Hamauzu remained silent, Jingoro laughed bitterly and shrugged.

“Well, even if you don’t tell me, when that ex-con dealer regains consciousness, I’ll grill him thoroughly. With his criminal record, there’s bound to be some dirt we can dig up.”

“He’s a victim.”

“He’s a victim, but he’s also involved. You better be prepared. Even if something comes up that could ruin you, I won’t cover it up. Don’t blame me if your career as a detective ends because of it.”

“Please, don’t torment him.”

“He might not even need tormenting; he could already be as good as dead.”

Jingoro’s nasty, persistent side was starting to show. If Momota regained consciousness, he would definitely be in for some intense questioning. Even if Momota said he threw away the methamphetamine he had acquired and never sold it, and that he paid Kimura out of his own pocket, who would believe him? Jingoro was sure to assume Momota was guilty as a Matsuzaka gang dealer.

Even as a victim, Jingoro would arrest him for illegal drug possession. With three prior convictions, Momota would certainly serve time, even for a crime he didn’t commit.

“Momota tried to get information for me by becoming a dealer for the Matsuzaka gang.”

“A detective in the elite Homicide Division doesn’t need yakuza intel. Or were you digging for information on another case?”

Jingoro was a detective in the local precinct and had stated that he would interrogate Momota himself. Escaping from “the Snake” would be impossible, Hamauzu realized.

He looked at Jingoro’s face. It was the face of the only detective in the police force he trusted.

“...Can you keep this to yourself?”

Jingoro’s eyebrow twitched.

“What is it?”

“Yasuo Momota is my boyfriend.”

Jingoro’s mouth fell open in shock, letting out a dumbfounded sound.

“He doesn’t know much about how the police work, so he secretly infiltrated the Matsuzaka gang, trying to gather any potentially criminal information he could and pass it to me.”

Jingoro let out a tense, nervous laugh.

“But he’s a guy! And not just any guy—he’s got three prior convictions and works as a manager at an escort service!”

“His record doesn’t matter. The escort service is a legal business. He’s living honestly now.”

Jingoro, who had been laughing, suddenly grabbed Hamauzu by the collar and started to shake him.

“Don’t joke around! Enough with the bullshit!”

“I’m not joking!”

Jingoro pushed Hamauzu away, his face contorted as if he had swallowed something bitter. He jammed his right hand into his hair, scratching it roughly and making a loud noise.

“What about that older woman from the Chinese restaurant?”

“That was Momota. Before working at the escort service, he worked at a Chinese restaurant.”

“You... you never told me he was a man!”

“...I couldn’t say it.”

Jingoro clicked his tongue again, then began pacing around the streetlight.

“You make no damn sense…”

Jingoro muttered as he repeatedly kicked at the dirt under his feet.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After overcoming a critical period, Momota’s sister-in-law informed Hamauzu that his boyfriend was steadily recovering. Hamauzu, however, was caught up in one violent case after another, being sent out like a soldier and unable to return home for days.

On that day, after finally returning to the dormitory, Hamauzu took a shower, changed his clothes, and went to visit Momota. Jingoro seemed to be quite angry; he had blocked Hamauzu’s emails and calls, so there was no way to contact him. Momota’s sister-in-law had mentioned over the phone, "A detective came by to interrogate him, and they talked for about two hours," but Hamauzu had no idea what kind of interrogation had taken place or what the situation was.

Despite Hamauzu’s worries about what might have been said—whether Momota was humiliated or threatened—Momota remained calm.

“They did some sort of questioning in this room, more like an interview. The detective had a strange name—Jingoro, I think. I’ve dealt with all kinds of detectives before, but I’ve never met one as kind as him. Maybe it was because I was the victim? He believed everything I told him. But I didn’t say a word about you, Ron-chan, so don’t worry.”

Two days after that conversation, Hamauzu was summoned by Jingoro, who had blocked his calls and emails. Hamauzu waited on a bench in the hospital courtyard where Momota was hospitalized. Jingoro arrived ten minutes late and, upon seeing Hamauzu, spat out, “You should be grateful to me.”

“I’ve classified Yasuo Momota as nothing more than a victim. During the interrogation, the guy didn’t mention your name even once.”

As soon as Hamauzu realized that Jingoro had kept it under wraps, he felt a wave of relief. Momota wouldn’t be arrested.

“Apparently, he said that a man he used to be involved with died from meth, and he held a grudge against the Matsuzaka gang, who had supplied the drugs. So, he decided to infiltrate as a dealer, planning to tip off the cops and give them a nasty surprise when the time was right, but they found out and beat him up. When I reported that to my superiors, they just laughed, saying, ‘No way a three-time loser meth addict could pull that off,’ but at least it’s better than no motive at all.”

“I never heard anything about a man he was involved with dying from drugs.”

“Doesn’t matter! That’s what he said. The higher-ups don’t care what some small fry like Momota was up to. As long as they can get the testimony that ‘Kimura injected him with meth,’ that’s all they need.”

A shadow fell over Hamauzu, and he looked up to see Jingoro glaring down at him. His eyes weren’t filled with anger.

“First, he worked at a cafeteria, then at a Chinese restaurant, and now he’s a manager at an escort service... Well, you weren’t lying about that. I asked if he had a lover, and he said no. That’s the only time his expression changed.”

Jingoro spoke in a detached manner.

“When I asked around at the shop, nobody except the manager knew he was gay. But the girls there said Momota was ‘crazy about Ron-chan.’ I didn’t know who they were talking about at first, but now I realize it was you.”

Hamauzu stood up and bowed deeply.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Don’t get all formal, it’s creepy.”

Jingoro spat out, pointing at Hamauzu.

“You’re the weird one! What do you see in that typical lowlife thug? When I caught a glimpse of him in the ICU, his face was so swollen from the beating that I couldn’t really tell what he looked like, so I thought he must be some sort of looker. But when I finally saw him, I was shocked—he’s just as ugly as when he was all swollen, and he looks downright filthy.”

“Looks don’t matter. He’s a straightforward person.”

“Even so, couldn’t you have found a better guy? I get it if you’re not into women, but why choose someone with a criminal record who probably has a bunch of other skeletons in his closet?”

“He’s working honestly now.”

“Working? At an escort service?”

“He enjoys his job, and I have no right to tell him to quit.”

Jingoro grimaced.

“We managed to handle things this time because our department was in charge, but don’t expect it to go this way next time.”

Hamauzu understood that all too well.

“If you stay with that guy, someone’s going to take advantage of you sooner or later.”

“That may be true.”

“You might end up having to quit being a detective.”

“I won’t quit being a detective. But I also won’t give up on Momota.”

“Come on…”

“He’s someone I need in my life.”

Jingoro clenched his jaw, scratched his head roughly, and then spat out, “Do whatever you want!” before storming off, his shoulders tense.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At the end of December, after finishing work, Hamauzu headed straight to Momota’s apartment. It had been nearly a month since his last visit, so his lover greeted him enthusiastically, and they immediately had sex. After falling into a deep sleep, as if sinking into a swamp, Hamauzu finally woke up the next afternoon.

A pleasant smell wafted from the tiny kitchen. It was the smell of mapo tofu, Hamauzu’s favorite.

“Oh, Ron-chan, you’re awake?”

Momota stopped cooking and approached the futon.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah...”

Getting up, Hamauzu put on the neatly folded clothes that were placed beside the futon. He thought about taking a shower first but decided against it because he found it too much trouble.

Momota was serving rice into a bowl. Sometimes he’d grow a little stubble on his chin, or he’d have a serious beard going on, but Momota was very tidy. No matter when Hamauzu visited, the room was always clean and organized. Jingoro had called Momota unkempt, but if anyone was unkempt, it was Hamauzu, who didn’t mind not bathing for days.

It had been almost six months since Momota was nearly killed by members of the Matsuzaka gang. Momota had fully recovered from multiple fractures and was now working energetically at a call girl service. The previous shop was within the Matsuzaka gang’s territory, so now he was managing a sister store in Uguisudani.

Hamauzu had given Momota a ring not long ago to ward off other women, even though Momota, unaware of his own attractiveness, had no clue. Momota was delighted with it and had not taken it off since. While Hamauzu was happy about this, he felt slightly guilty because the ring was meant to serve as a “woman deterrent.”

“Jingoro-san knew you, didn’t he, Ron-chan?”

Hamauzu looked up while eating the spicy mapo tofu Momota had made.

“He’s been coming around to our place a lot lately.”

Hamauzu swallowed the tofu he almost spat out.

“W-why?”

He tried to sound calm as he asked.

“Well, to have fun with the girls. He’s not demanding, and he plays nice. I didn’t know he knew you, Ron-chan, but then he asked me, ‘Do you know a detective named Hamauzu?’”

A chill ran down his spine. The Matsuzaka gang case was supposed to be over. Kimura, who had tried to kill Momota, confessed to the location of a domestic meth production site and then committed suicide in prison. The police raided the Matsuzaka gang, arresting several members. They even added charges of gambling and prostitution, effectively dissolving the gang.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not really...” Momota’s expression seemed suspicious, as if he were hiding something.

“You weren’t threatened, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t threatened or anything. It’s just a little business deal.”

“A deal...” Hamauzu echoed, and Momota hastily covered his mouth.

“Momo, tell me the truth.”

“Well, um... it’s not a big deal...”

“Momo! You promised you wouldn’t keep secrets from me.”

Hamauzu had been deeply affected by the whole incident where Momota, in an effort to help him, had infiltrated the Matsuzaka gang without telling him and nearly ended up dead. That’s why Hamauzu had made Momota promise never to lie to him again. But now there was talk of a “deal.” Just hearing that made his spine tingle with fear. What could Jingoro be demanding from Momota? Even after Hamauzu had told Jingoro how much Momota meant to him, was he trying to use him as an informant? Absolutely not.

Staring intently at Momota, Hamauzu saw him give in and start to speak.

“Well, you see, Jingoro-san tells me stories about when you worked at the police box, and in return, I give him discount coupons or tell him about good shops...”

Relieved that it wasn’t the “informant” situation he had feared, Hamauzu felt slightly better. However, he still couldn’t understand why Jingoro would choose to visit Momota’s shop and hang out. It didn’t seem like a coincidence.

“What did Jingoro-san say about me?”

Momota glanced up at Hamauzu.

“Well... he just said you’re a bit stubborn, not very flexible, and maybe a little lacking in friends. Nothing too bad.”

Knowing that Jingoro was deliberately doing this, aware that any information would eventually reach Hamauzu, it seemed clear this was Jingoro’s way of messing with him.

“But you know, Jingoro-san is a good senior. His language might be a bit rough, but you can tell he cares about you, Ron-chan. Even after finding out I like men, he wasn’t grossed out or anything. He’s got an open mind, you know...”

Momota laughed. It seemed that Jingoro’s intention was just to mess with Hamauzu, not to target Momota. Despite having betrayed Jingoro badly, he had forgiven him. Maybe Hamauzu should be thankful that it was just some minor harassment... just as he was convincing himself of this, Momota continued.

“But Jingoro-san is definitely a detective. He said to me, ‘Momota-san, you have a boyfriend, don’t you?’ He hit the nail on the head. I told him I didn’t have one during the questioning because I didn’t want to cause trouble for my partner, who’s a public servant, and when I apologized, he understood. Then he asked what kind of person he was, and I ended up talking a lot.”

Hamauzu felt the blood drain from his face.

“A lot...?”

“Oh, it’s okay. Jingoro-san doesn’t know that you and I are together, Ron-chan. And I only mentioned that you’re a public servant, not that you’re a police officer. But we were talking in a bar, and I got drunk and ended up telling a lot of dirty stories.”

“...Dirty stories... like what?”

“About the first time, I guess. How you were a virgin and really cute, stuff like that.”

As Hamauzu’s phone beeped with a new message, his face turned red and he started trembling. The sender was “Tadashi Jingoro,” the local precinct’s “snake.”

“You’re off today, right? I’ve already checked. Come to the Izakaya 'Hakke' right outside Ikebukuro’s west exit at 8 pm tonight. You owe me for that favor from last time. In return, I’ll have some good drinking stories ready for you.”

I’m definitely going to be tormented with all sorts of dirty stories as drinking fodder. As Hamauzu sat curled up with a bright red face, clutching his head, Momota repeatedly asked in a concerned voice, “Ron-chan, what’s wrong?”

Previous TOC Next