Kuji continued to walk through the late-night streets of Roppongi.
The roads were overflowing with people. It seemed particularly so once the winter bonuses had been paid out. It seemed even more crowded than in the daytime. Like Shinjuku, this town did not sleep.
Kuji turned at the intersection toward Iikura. The Tokyo Tower, lit up bright red, steadily loomed closer. He turned off the main road into a residential neighborhood, and walked past a luxury condominium to enter the grounds of an antiquated Western-style mansion. It was like any regular residence, save for the small cross nailed to the gatepost. The main entrance was left open twenty-four hours a day; however, Kuji went around to the back of the house. The back door led straight into a small kitchen. Kuji pulled off his leather jumper in the dark.
He turned the faucet, brought his lips to it, and drank until his stomach began to rumble in protest. He squatted on the kitchen floor and furtively sneaked his hand down the front of his pants.
"Damn it... damn it..." he cursed to himself.
Kuji was given a surprisingly light sentence for violating the Sword and Firearms Control Law. He would only spend one year and three months in actual incarceration, and during that period, he was given astonishingly preferential treatment. For the first three months, he was assigned to be the laundry boy, who collected the dirty clothes of all of the inmates and distributed them back after they had been laundered. Next, he was assigned to take care of the mail - in charge, again, of collecting them from inmates. Next, he was a proofreader for a printing factory. He experienced no harassment from the wardens, nor any rape from inmates, as he had experienced in juvenile.
It was clear that Nango had pulled some strings. But this also meant that if he retaliated, Kuji could easily be taken out of his cushy environment and thrown into the pits of hell.
When Kuji was let out on parole, the probation officer who came to pick him up was a middleman between him and Public Safety.
Arrangements had already been made with the Black Dragon Society and Ai Lan Company for Kuji. No one would be suspicious if a throwaway pawn like him didn't return. And by inserting the probation officer between Kuji and Public Safety, it made things harder for both gangs to get in touch with him.
In other words, Kuji had been submerged into the underground world - into a darkness deeper than that of yakuza society.
The probation officer took Kuji to a facility, where he stayed for six months receiving training to become a spy. That was where he was also routinely raped by Nango.
"You're my S, and I'll make sure your body knows that. I'll drive it into your every cell so that you can never say no to me."
Sex with other males in prison was already enough to make Kuji nauseous; not only did Nango engage in it, he also taught Kuji what pleasure was for the first time.
In the beginning, he was drugged. Eventually, though, he began to ejaculate solely from being stimulated anally.
It was a hellish pleasure. Kuji felt humiliated every time he was brought to climax without a choice. He had only been able to bear sex in prison by steeling himself against the pain. It was better if it was painful - because pain would eventually end. If he lost consciousness from the pain, it was over even quicker. And if he didn't pass out, it was proof that it wasn't painful enough.
But there was no end to pleasure. His body kept asking for more and more.
"Damnit," Kuji growled under his breath as he continued to pump his flaccid member. I won't let him be the last one to make me come. His last time had to be on his own means, of his own will.
"Ah, ah-ah...!" Kuji let out fragmented moans as he caught the hot liquid in his hand. His nostrils quivered at the raw smell that stung them.
"Hah...." Kuji let out a breath before zipping up his fly and lying belly-down on the floor.
He wiped his wet fingers on his jeans. The thudding of his heartbeat gradually quieted down. Then, he heard the faint strains of an organ. He thought it was strange to hear playing at night.
Past the front entrance of the church, there was a hall which was used as the chapel. Although it was adequately sound-proofed so as not to disturb the rest of the residential neighborhood, it was nonetheless uncommon to hear the organ played at early-morning and late-night masses.
The chapel was accessible from the living quarters through a side door, but since it was right next to the altar, Kuji instead went outside again through the back door. He went around to the front entrance and opened the door to the hall. He was met with a sight of bright, shimmering lights.
A man in priest's robes was playing the organ. There was a couple sitting in the pew at the very front.
Song. Kuji called out the man's name in his head. The organ stopped as if the player had heard him.
"You've come at just the right time," said Reverend Song, his back still turned. His voice was low and soft. He then stood up and turned around, showing his impeccably-proportioned face as he looked at Kuji. He beckoned with his large palm.
"These two would like to hold a wedding ceremony, but they don't have the time to come in and listen to my sermons. That's why I've been holding them at night especially for them. Masatake, will you play for me?"
The man in the couple clearly looked like he was of South American descent. The woman was Japanese, and looked like she worked in the liquor and entertainment business. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap dress which revealed a generously-fleshed back, and she was wearing a shawl over it. When Kuji slipped past the couple, he caught a glimpse of her voluptuous cleavage.
He sat down in front of the organ in Song's stead. He began to play slowly. Song stood in front of the couple with the Bible in hand.
Her boobs are in plain view from where Song's standing - the moment the thought crossed his mind, Kuji felt hatred bloom in his heart toward the woman. He desperately subdued it while he let his fingers dance over the keys.
"Today, we will start by reading about the epistles to the Thessalonians. If you could turn to page-"
The sermon and hymn in unison was itself over in about fifteen minutes.
"Will you come tomorrow night, as well?" Song asked the couple.
"Yes, Father."
"Then, I will hold the third sermon tomorrow night. After that, let us decide on a date for your ceremony."
The man and woman kneeled before Song and kissed his hand. They bowed deeply before leaving through the door. Song followed them and saw them out at the entrance, then came back and approached Kuji.
"Welcome back," Song said. His thick eyebrow gave a slight twitch. Kuji did not miss it. He lifted his hand, which he had wiped on his jeans just moments before, and brought it to his nose.
"Do I smell? I wiped it off, though. I don't think any of it got on the keys."
Song sighed and peered into Kuji's eyes.
"Masatake, I'm not criticizing you for it. I'm not going to tell a young man like you to do as I do. I just hope that someday you'll find happiness like that couple has done."
Kuji sniffed derisively and wiped the organ keys with his handkerchief. The discord that sounded from the organ was jarring.
"Don't you think they're suspicious, coming out in the middle of the night like that? Besides, aren't you afraid for your safety at all? I don't know what you're thinking, leaving your door unlocked every hour of the day."
"People wouldn't be able to come in if I locked my door. That's how you came in that day, Masatake."
I already knew it would be unlocked.
That night, I made it seem like I'd sought cover because I was running from the gang. But it was all an act. Why can't you even see through that? I thought your God was supposed to be almighty.
Kuji internally hurled the words at Song, whose back was now turned as he walked toward the altar. Song blew out the candles that had been lit there.
"Come on over. I'll make you a cup of coffee," he said. They left the chapel through the small side door beneath the altar and exited into the hallway.
They entered the kitchen, where Song put the coffee maker on. Soon, a fragrant aroma filled the air. Song handed Kuji a mug of coffee, which he drank standing up while leaning against the wall. He watched Song sit at the table and put milk in his own cup.
"Why do you make them come for three days? To make sure it's not a fraudulent marriage to get a visa?"
"No," Song said as he smiled up at Kuji. "In Catholicism, when you swear upon your love before God, it is eternal. That means you have to be very careful in going through with it. I recommend people to come three times so that they can turn back if their hearts are unsure. Peter said three times that he did not know Christ. But even then, Christ still forgave him."
Kuji sniffed in derision again and took his empty mug to the sink. Song spoke up behind him.
"Masatake, what are you doing tomorrow? Well, today, to be more exact."
"I'll go with you. Manual labor is the least I could do to pay for my meal. I'd offer sex, but you always say no. You're such a hassle."
Song laughed softly. His voice went straight to Kuji's groin, and he came close to letting out a groan.
"Masatake, we're leaving at nine-thirty. People from the NPO will come to fetch us. You should catch some sleep until then."
"You, too," Kuji managed to squeeze out before he hastily went to go outside. He climbed the set of stairs in front of him, which led him to the living quarters on the second floor. Kuji stepped into the small room that he had to himself. He climbed into bed and squeezed his eyes shut.
That voice, the sound of the organ. Song had occupied a place in Kuji's heart ever since they first met that day. And Public Safety knew very well that he did.