" Sou**-san, you need to put your foot down," he said to Song. "Young people these days don't know how to properly show respect."
The female nurse chuckled. "It's a sign that you've gotten old, Mr. Nosaka," she pointed out. Nosaka's face relaxed a little, but he continued to criticize Song.
"You trust people too easily. You don't know what young people could do. They lose their temper easily, they're not grateful for anything, and they'll kill people for the smallest of reasons."
Kuji got the impression that Nosaka was talking about him, and proceeded to fix the man with a glare. Just then, the large woman sitting beside Song interrupted.
"Mr. Nosaka, that's no way to put it when we've got young people in this group. If you ask me, I think you can replace 'young people' with 'men in general' and it would make just as much sense."
"Let's all take a step back," Song said mildly as he intervened. "You're right that there are still many things that the government ought to be doing to help the unemployed and homeless. But our job is to reach out to the people who have fallen through the cracks of every single net and are floundering. It's just a matter of all of us doing what we can in our respective positions."
Song went on.
"You know Reverend Pierre, who founded Emmaus? He is a great man, but he was very political and very radical in his beliefs. So to each his own way of thinking," Song said, quietly bringing the debate to a close. The members also appeared to have no complaints, and thus their meeting wrapped up.
The group parted ways once they exited the family restaurant. Kuji and Song climbed into Nosaka's compact truck just as they had that morning. Kuji was relieved to find that the woman was not there.
That evening, an unusual feast filled the kitchen of the church. Thinly-sliced grilled meat was piled high on a large platter, with a side of boiled potatoes and stewed beans. It was typical churrasco fare. The man who had asked for the late-night marriage ceremony had brought the food in from his workplace.
"I come with Mika later. But a little late," he had said in halting Japanese before rushing out.
"Let's be thankful and tuck in, Masatake," Song said.
The two of them sat across from each other at the small table and for a while focused on their food. The grilled meat was crispy and flavorful, and Song showed such an appetite that even Kuji was surprised.
Grilled meat is popular in his country, Kuji remembered. The Japanese were like herbivores in comparison, he thought. Although the meat was good, three slices of it was enough to make Kuji begin to feel bloated. He brought a spoonful of stewed beans to his lips instead.
"Yeah, I like this better. It's spicy and tastes good."
"Eat as much as you like, Masatake. Don't feel like you need to be modest. You're young; you need to eat meat more than I do."
"What, you want to enhance my libido, or something?" Kuji teased. "I'll end up coming to your bed at night, you know."
Song laughed good-naturedly. "Wouldn't want that," he said.
Even raunchy topics like these could be brushed off as jokes at mealtime. Kuji pretended to sulk, while at the same time feeling a bittersweet knot in his heart. "What?" he said. "I thought that's what you wanted."
"I'll make sure to lock my door tonight."
"Even though you keep the rest of your church wide open?"
Kuji tried to remember the last time he had enjoyed such an exchange of casual banter like this. It wasn't his first time. He had experienced this enjoyable moment before.
Kuji continued to stare at the well-proportioned face in front of him.
After a while, he realized what he was feeling. Family time. He had been in elementary school then - yes, while his father still had his wits about him. It was before he had turned to drink and become violent toward his mother, younger sister, and brother.
"I'm telling you it has to be this."
"No fair, big brother!"
"Masatake, you're a big boy now. At least let her use it tomorrow. In exchange..."
"In exchange, what, Dad?"
He felt something lukewarm roll down his cheek.
"Oh..." Kuji sniffled. "Hot food gives me a runny nose," he said as he rubbed his eyes.
"Masatake..." Song said hesitantly, then smiled. He stood up, and put his arms around Kuji's head over the table.
"Hey, what are you..."
"Just be quiet."
The spoon slid out of his hand and clattered loudly as it hit the floor. Kuji hastily shoved Song's chest away. He rose from his chair and got down on the floor, pretending to look for his spoon. He stared hard at the floor and tightened the muscles in his throat. He was narrowly able to avoid sobbing out loud.
He took a deep breath before standing up.
"I think I'm getting sleepy from eating so much," he mumbled, his face turned aside.
"Is that so? Then, you can sleep in your room until they come. We need you, organ player."
Kuji left the man with the gentle voice behind him as he exited the kitchen.
Once he entered his small room on the second floor, he lay down on the bed in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling.
Why had he cried?
He had long stopped feeling sorry for himself; it was meaningless. No amount of self-pity would solve his past problems. Besides, people only felt sorry for themselves because they wanted other people to feel sorry for them, too.
Not a chance. Pity is the last thing I want. That's why I won't feel sorry for myself, either.
He wasn't so naive as to reminisce and cry over the happy times he had once spent with his family.
It's his fault.
It was all Song's fault.
It's his fault for making that kind of conversation.
Although priests did not marry, Kuji was sure that Song would sit across from a woman, just as they had done, and engage in conversation like they did. He had cried because he was angry over that idea, Kuji thought to himself.
He wished Song was impotent. If only the man couldn't get it up no matter how hard he pumped his penis. Then, Kuji would even feel relieved.
If not....
How nice it would be if he could cut the man's penis off. Hadn't there been a story like that? Of some woman who had cut off her boyfriend's member and kept it with her?