Consolation visits to the juvenile detention center were one-sided displays of goodwill that inmates found difficult to appreciate. Whatever the superficial do-gooders said sounded vacant and meaningless to people who knew that at the end of the day, they were still trapped within the walls of their prison. People of religion always mentioned words like love, friendship, loyalty, and gratitude - words that sounded sickeningly fake. But inmates still had to bow their heads and listen, for fear of making a bad impression on the prison guards.
In fact, just today a priest from some church had brought along a group of such visitors and given a lengthy and tiresome sermon. But Kuji appreciated the chocolate and cake that they had brought in; inmates were always starved for sweets. The amateur band that they had provided as entertainment hadn't been half-bad, either. The priest was open-minded; instead of a lineup of gloomy religious hymns, the band had played pop tunes like the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and even Peter, Paul and Mary; and the Carpenters. Kuji hadn't known who the artists were at the time, but he thought they were better than religious hymns.
He had been assigned as a janitor at the time, and was mopping the floor alone in the vacant hall after the modest concert and meal had ended. That was when someone had come in.
The person sat at the facility's piano and had begun to play. A soft singing voice carried a melody that was more beautiful than any he had ever heard.
Amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
When he came to, Kuji found himself standing beside the player, not even attempting to wipe the tears flowing from his eyes.
The man playing the piano[m2] had a tall stature and was wearing jeans and a black shirt with a mandarin collar. Kuji remembered him playing the keyboard in the amateur band.
His facial structure was European, with his high nose and chiseled features, but his tapered eyes and black hair made him look more Japanese.
The man directed a gentle gaze at Kuji when he approached.
"It's a beautiful song, isn't it?" he said. "Would you like to try playing, too?"
"I've... never played before."
"It's an easy melody. Let me teach you."
Before Kuji knew it, he was sitting on the bench and following the man's directions as he pressed each key on the piano.
"Are you sure you've never played before?" came the man's surprised voice from above.
"Yeah."
"I don't believe it. You must have a born talent for it, then. Your left hand is keeping up well, too."
"Father," called a prison guard's voice, interrupting their time alone together.
At those words, Kuji learned for the first time that the man in front of him was a priest.
"This boy has musical talent," the priest said. "Education is one of the important purposes of this facility, isn't it? I'll come here regularly to teach him."
That had been Kuji's first encounter with Song.
Kuji absorbed music like dry sand absorbing water. He learned not only hymns and classical pieces, but also pop songs. Juvenile detention centers encouraged inmates to acquire skills and qualifications more than adult prisons, which made it easier for Kuji to get permission to receive lessons.
"When you finish serving your sentence, come to me," Song told him at every opportunity.
Then, one day, Song's visits stopped. He had been put in charge of a different diocese, and he said that he could no longer take the time to visit the detention center. It was bound to happen, Kuji told himself. He had been an idiot for believing in the man. He told himself that he would probably never see Song again.
"Your next subject is someone you know," Nango had told him after Kuji's infiltration mission with the cult was complete. Kuji realized that he had already been marked as a potential spy candidate by Public Safety even while he was still in juvenile. That was why he had been given permission so easily to receive music lessons - it had all been part of the plan.
This was perhaps the first time that Kuji caved in to Nango.
He did what he was told and visited Song that day. Although eight years had passed, Song appeared unchanged. He had the same masculine allure and nimble movements that hinted at his physical fitness. These features, unusual for a priest, were also part of the reason why Kuji had been surprised when he found out that Song was one.
"I was wondering if you would ever visit me," Song told him. "I felt bad about the way I had to leave you. Maybe we met again by chance, but I think it's what God intended."
When Kuji appeared before Song that day, battered by Nango in a form of disguise, Song had taken him to a nearby night clinic. At the clinic he met a doctor with a pretty face and a man with a sturdy build who looked like his bodyguard. There, he received treatment.
"If you're being chased by a gang, you should take cover here for a while," Song had told him. He had lapped up every word of the lie that Nango had fabricated, and agreed to take Kuji in. He had allowed Kuji to live in the church.
✦ ✦ ✦
Slender, supple fingers danced over the keys.
"I would say, if anything was eye-catching about you, it would be your fingers," Nango had said on several occasions. Kuji had no idea if it was true. But he was thankful that he could move his fingers freely and for the ease with which he was able to weave a melody.
Haydn's The Seven Last Words of our Savior on the Cross was a sorrowful melody. Although the piece was made for strings, Song had arranged it to be played on the organ.
The introduction in adagio had a dramatic melody that foreshadowed tragedy. The sonata that followed was, for some reason, a bright largo. The third movement depicted words to Barabbas, and was also a breezy and light melody. Kuji sensed a presence standing beside him and gave a sidelong glance.
"You must like this piece," Song said.
"Yeah. It's the second song I learned from you after Amazing Grace."
"You have a good memory."
Kuji did not answer as he kept playing. He enjoyed the times they spent like this. It was the only contact that he and Song could have.
What else could he do, as a church organ player who did not believe the words of God?
After he finished playing the third movement, Kuji closed the lid of the organ.
"It's almost time, isn't it?"
Song nodded as he unfolded the coat he had been holding and draped it over the shoulders of his priest's robes.
"As much as I'd like to sit and listen for a bit longer, it's almost time."
Kuji followed Song into the pantry below the stairs. He carried the stacked cardboard boxes there to the entrance of the house. The boxes contained blankets, underwear, and socks that had been donated by members of the parish.
A small truck could already be heard beeping its warning signal as it backed in through the gates. A man with a slender build was sitting on the loading bed of the truck. He leapt off nimbly to take the cardboard box from Song. He beckoned to Kuji with a jerk of his chin.
"Get up on there and take the box from me."
Kuji disliked this man. He was the NPO's representative, and his name was Nosaka. He always looked at Kuji with suspicion. After the first time they'd met, he had gone to Song and warned him not to "let such a shady-looking guy in."
Kuji gave a sniff and ignored Nosaka, going around the truck to the passenger side. He opened the door and turned to Song.
"Song, get on. We'll do the rest. Right, Mr. Nosaka?"
Faced with no choice to refuse, Nosaka clicked his tongue irritably and hoisted the cardboard box onto the loading bed.
"Get up onto the loading bed," Nosaka repeated, in a stubborn attempt to resist giving Kuji the reins.
"You get up there," Kuji said.
"What?" Nosaka scowled, his temper rising.
"I'm younger than you," Kuji continued. "You don't want to throw out your back, do you?"
Nosaka remained hesitant until a female voice called from the driver's seat.
"He's right, you know."
Kuji looked in surprise at the driver's seat to see a large South Asian woman with dark skin leaning out of her seat. She was wearing an alpaca wool sweater with snug-fitting jeans, her glossy black hair coming down to her shoulders. Kuji had never seen her before.
"Fine." Nosaka climbed back up onto the loading bed. "All right, keep them coming."