Chapter 5
Kisaragi was having a drink at a cramped bar.
There were no other customers except for him. Two women with thick makeup were eating rice balls in a corner. He had ended up in Kabukicho in search of the crowds and noise, and had followed a random touter into the bar.
Kisaragi mechanically knocked back his brandy. He had never been one to get drunk easily. In a sense, he had turned to sex to forget his problems because alcohol did not allow him to.
But tonight, he couldn’t even turn to sex to distract him. Needless to say, it was because he had been faced with the harsh reality that Hasunuma was getting married. Although Hasunuma had said it was only a matchmaking session, Kisaragi figured he would eventually get married.
What am I thinking?
Hasunuma had never belonged to him, and never would. Kisaragi scoffed at himself for the toll that the news was taking on him. I guess that means I still had hope when I thought I’d abandoned it all.
He had been in high school when he started to realize that perhaps other males were the object of his sexual desire. When he started attending university and met Hasunuma, that suspicion turned to certainty. He was also equally certain that his crush would never be requited.
Don’t you have any impulses?
Kisaragi had dismissed the question with a laugh.
Hasunuma was like the sun, with his cheerful personality. He was trusted by his upperclassmen and looked up to by his underclassmen. From what Kisaragi heard, he had been president of the student council in high school.
Hasunuma called Kisaragi his best friend. Kisaragi, on the other hand, desperately hid his desires. Why did he have to live like this, with such sunken spirits? Hidden in the shadows, like a plant that produced no flowers or fruit?
The man would never be his, anyway; and if that was the case, Kisaragi wished he could degrade him, humiliate him, and destroy him. He wanted Hasunuma to go through the same feelings he had gone through.
But who would be able to guess that Kisaragi housed such a violent beast within him?
One day, I might end up hurting him.
Kisaragi was gripped by fear. Although he carried ambivalent feelings of love toward Hasunuma, he could not bring himself to hurt him. If Kisaragi could not destroy him, he had no choice but to destroy himself.
He had fleeting sexual encounters and refused any soulful connection with people.
Back when he had first began visiting Guys, he was straddled by as many as five different men per night. As Kisaragi satisfied his self-destructive impulses, he felt liberated for the first time.
This is the way I should be. Fallen.
He felt as if it was a way to balance his contrasting outward appearance of a competent and well-renowned physician.
By the time Kisaragi had gone through a whole bottle of brandy, even he was a little unsteady on his feet.
“The bill,” he said to the waiter. He looked at the number on the slip and could not help but laugh. “I see. This must be what they call those rip-off bars.”
Two waiter stood in front of Kisaragi. At the entrance of the bar was a well-built man in a black suit with his back against the door.
“Unfortunately, this is all I have.” Kisaragi took out three 10,000 yen bills* from his shirt pocket. He could laugh or cry, but this was still all he had. He carried a minimal amount of cash when he went to Guys. He made sure not to carry his driver’s license or credit card, or anything else that could identify him. He didn’t mind ending up dead in a ditch somewhere. The only thing that tied him to his identity was the watch he wore. If it was stolen, he would be an unidentified body. But that was also Kisaragi’s wish.
He didn’t care about the insults that would be directed at him after death. Once dead, that was the end for him.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make do with this.”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” said one of the waiters who had a thuggish-looking face.
“I really don’t have any money.”
The waiter gave Kisaragi a pat-down, with the man in the black suit standing by.
“Manager, he’s right. He’s not even carrying a cell phone.”
The man in the black suit wore an exasperated expression. “Are you kidding me? Let’s see if he can phone a friend.”
“No way,” Kisaragi said. “But if you want to beat me up, go ahead.”
“Unfortunately we can’t do that. Laws against bars that rip people off,” added the man in the black suit, his lips twisting in disdain. He reached out to grab Kisaragi’s chin. “He’s a pretty one. Should we sell him off so he can get gang-banged?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Kisaragi gave a bitter smile. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to fall until he could fall no further. Perhaps it would be better so he would never harbor any false hopes again.
The man in the black suit appeared disturbed that his words had no seemed to instill any fear into Kisaragi.
“But money comes first. We’ll keep him here until tomorrow and make him call his workplace.”
“I won’t.”
While they conversed, the waiter gave Kisaragi another pat-down, and pulled out a business card from his trouser pocket.
“He was carrying this.”
“Oh,” Kisaragi said, widening his narrow eyes. “Someone gave that to me. I don’t know him.”
“Then you can pray to the heavens that he’s nice enough to save your ass.” The waiter took out his cell phone. “Hello? Is this Mr. Kanesaki? Your friend wants to talk to you.”
Kisaragi reluctantly took the phone.
“Who is this?” said a deep voice.
“It’s Yu Kisaragi,” Kisaragi answered.
“Oh, that doctor who looks like an actor. Thanks for today. So, what do you want at this hour of the night?”
“Some trouble has come up,” Kisaragi said crisply. The man in the black suit swiped the cell phone back.
“Your friend here tried to dine and dash. I’m wondering if you can foot the bill for him.”
Kisaragi regarded the man’s face in resignation, certain that Kanesaki would not agree. But the man’s face broke into a gleeful grin.
“He says he’ll pay. He’s on his way to pick you up now.”
“That’s absurd,” Kisaragi muttered.
“You can sit there and wait,” said the waiter as he shoved Kisaragi in the shoulder. Kisaragi half-tumbled into his seat.
About fifteen minutes later, the door was kicked open and a group of three men, quite obviously of the yakuza type, came striding in. The man in the black suit appeared bewildered as he stood up.
“Can I help you?”
“Cut the crap. You invited us here,” snarled one man with a bent nose, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt. “We came to pick up Mr. Kanesaki’s acquaintance, you hear?”
One of the men shoved the waiter out of the way and bowed deeply to Kisaragi. “We’ve come to escort you. Doctor, Mr. Kanesaki is waiting for you.”
“Right….” Kisaragi finally recalled what Arima had told him. A shell company for his yakuza organization. Kisaragi realized how useful the business card had really been. As he emerged from the bar amidst careful attention from the gangsters, he saw a white Mercedes-Benz parked on the curb.
“Mr. Kanesaki, here he is.”
The driver opened the rear door widely for him. Similar to the other low-ranking members, he wore his hair tightly permed and sported a scar on his cheek. A man in a black suit sat inside.
“Get in, first, doctor, and we’ll talk.”
Kisaragi got in without saying anything.
“Get moving,” ordered Kanesaki. The Mercedes lurched into motion.
“Thank you,” Kisaragi said, bowing his head.
“No need. You took care of me earlier today.”
“No. That doesn’t nearly equal what you’ve done for me. Please let me give something back.”
Kanesaki directed his glinting eyes at Kisaragi.
“Alright. I think I will.”
10,000 yen bills*About $100.