Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13300392.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      闇の末裔_|_Yami_No_Matsuei_|_Descendants_of_Darkness
  Character:
      Mibu_Oriya
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Underage_Sex, Families_of_Choice, bad_family
      relationships, Supernatural_Elements, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon
      Divergence, Character_Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-07 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 7286
****** Your kindness ******
by olympia_m
Summary
     When life gives you lemons but no sugar, your lemonade will be bitter
     and horrible (or a story about not having real/good choices)

     (reposted because I added more to it...)
***** Chapter 1 *****
Takumi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. This was just a job, he
reminded himself. A very well-paying job that he couldn’t afford to refuse.
And, he reminded himself with a smile, he only had to do this once a month.
Just once every thirty days and then he could forget about it, and use the
money to pay for his mother’s medical bills and, with whatever remained, maybe
buy toys for his children.
But if he were honest with himself…. He glanced behind him, at the seats
arranged in a semi-circle around the raised dais where he stood. He wouldn’t
mind this job if he had other viewers. If his audience were members of his
community, his fellow rope artists, and masters, and models. If his audience
were simply enthusiasts of his art, eager to watch and perhaps even be inspired
themselves. Then he wouldn’t have minded.
At least Mibu respected his wishes, he thought as the door started sliding
open, letting him meet and talk to the model alone before the show. He knew
Mibu’s models were sometimes reluctant to be tied, but between reluctance and
refusal was a line that Takumi would not cross. If the model said ‘no’, then
Takumi said ‘no’ and Mibu could find another way to excite his customers.
His smile froze when his latest ‘model’ walked in. That was a first. A boy, not
even an adolescent, dressed up like a doll in a child’s colourful kimono. He
didn’t think he could do this. He took another deep breath and smiled gently,
waiting until the boy came to stand in front of him. “Hello,” he said softly.
The boy didn’t look at him.
Takumi knelt down so he could look up into the child’s eyes. They were a warm,
light brown that matched his light, brown hair. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
He frowned. “You know that the real age of consent in this prefecture is
eighteen?”
“Yes. I also know that my father has….” The boy sighed and looked at him. “I
must do this. Please, don’t turn me away.”
“You are a child,” he insisted. “I can’t.”
The child dropped to his knees and then bowed until his forehead touched the
floor.
Takumi watched and watched as the child stayed there unmoving and waiting. He
sighed. “Fine. As you wish.” Who knew what kind of hold Mibu had on the child’s
father to make him let his son be used as a ‘model’ for one of these sessions?
The child stood up slowly. “Thank you,” he whispered, not looking at him.
Takumi sighed again. “What’s your name?”
The boy shrugged.
“As you wish.” Takumi felt awkward. It was one thing to tell a prostitute that
he would tie her up so that a perverted, rich old man could fuck her, and
another to tell that to a child. “Erm…”
“My Master said you will tie me with ropes.”
Takumi swallowed. “Yes.”
The child extended his arms forward. Such an innocent.
His father must have been deeply in debt; he couldn’t explain this otherwise.
Poor child. Takumi hugged him. “Not like this,” he said very softly.
“How then?” The boy looked at him; his eyes were curious, unafraid even.
Takumi felt strange, like he was being reassured by this child that was more
than twenty years younger than him. “Well,” he said, sitting down, and pulling
the boy down with him, making him sit next to him. “See that hook on the beam
there?”
“Yes.”
“I will hang a rope and will suspend you from a rope harness that I will tie
around you.” He smiled bitterly. “I should leave your kimono on. The contrast
between the textures of the rope and your dress and skin will be most exciting
for your customer.”
“My… customer,” the child said slowly. He bowed slightly. “Please, take care of
me.”
Takumi stood up. “I tie my models in front of their customers, but I would much
rather tie you now.” That way he wouldn’t have to see the pig that had the
money and the power to get away with something so disgusting. That way he
wouldn’t have to feel so complicit in this child’s destruction.
The boy frowned. “Won’t that get you in trouble, though?”
He shrugged. Probably, but Mibu could stuff it. It was bad enough he had to
take part in this. He hugged the boy again, feeling so very sorry for him. “You
must be such a good son, to do as your father asks. Even when he asks this of
you.”
The boy froze. “He is Father,” he said simply.
Takumi vowed he would never, ever put his children in such a position. He
sighed. This meant that he’d have to do exactly as he always did. “Forgive me,”
he said, bowing deeply. When there was no answer Takumi looked up and saw the
boy studying him.
“Alright,” the boy said after a few moments. “You do as you must, and so will
I.” He stood up. “Should I open the door for my ‘honoured customer’ or will
you?”
“I will,” Takumi said. Anything to spare the child even a moment of dealing
with whomever had bought him for the night. He opened the door slowly, to let
the pervert in. A fat man dressed in a suit that probably cost as much as
Takumi’s furniture ignored him as he strode into the room, eyes already fixed
on the lamb waiting for slaughter. Takumi instead focused on Yamazaki, the man
Mibu always sent to make sure his ‘models’ would not do anything stupid – like
run away. He put his hand on his chest and stopped him.
Yamazaki raised an eyebrow.
“He’s a child,” Takumi whispered. “Don’t let the pervert hurt him.”
Yamazaki smiled. Takumi took a step back, letting his hand drop. He’d never
seen Yamazaki smile with such warmth or affection. “I won’t,” he said just as
quietly.
For some reason, Takumi believed him. And so, he took another deep breath, and
reminded himself that this was just a job. Nothing else.
&*&*
Takumi didn’t see the child again for another six months. Frankly, he’d rather
never see the child again. Instead, he had to smile at him, and pretend that he
didn’t know how light he was when he was hanging from thick columns of rope. Or
how flexible, and how easy it was to fold his leg up and tie his ankle to his
thigh, and then spread him open and vulnerable. Or how easily his pale skin
bruised when hugged by the rope. Or how he was still a child, small and
hairless everywhere. Takumi had thrown up with his disgust for the first time
in his life after he left the child with that pervert.
Instead he had to smile and pretend to be happy that the child looked well,
freshly washed and dressed in another expensive-looking kimono, this one with
flowers and fans instead of cranes.
“Sensei,” the child said, bowing to him. “Please, take care of me.”
Takumi wished he didn’t have to, but he did, and was ashamed to know that he
would do so again, if he had to.
&*&*
For the next four years Takumi saw The Child once every six months or so.
Always perfectly poised, always dressed in expensive clothes, always perfectly
polite. He saw The Child grow taller, lose all traces of baby fat from his
cheeks and limbs and stomach, become fit in a way that spoke of regular
exercise. He saw The Child turn into an adolescent, voice first cracking and
then deepening, a few tufts of hair growing here and there, his genitals
changing too. His skin still stayed pale, though, and delicate; the rope marks
stood out like jewels on velvet. His eyes stayed the same too, open, curious,
unafraid.
Each time Takumi saw him, he wondered what hold did Mibu have over The Child’s
family for this to continue. Sometimes he wondered if Mibu was trying to train
The Child into submission, but if that was Mibu’s aim, he didn’t seem to be
making much progress. Sometimes he wanted to bribe Yamazaki to let him take The
Child with him when the night was over, but he was too afraid of what Mibu
might do to even jest about it.
Then he stopped seeing The Child, and that made him worry at first. But then he
thought better of it. Hadn’t he wanted to stop seeing him? Perhaps The Child
had managed to go to college. That way he could escape the hold Mibu had on
him. Or so he hoped.
Three years after that he received an envelope with a cheque for a million yen
and a letter written in a strong, flowing, almost hasty, hand thanking him for
his services to the Mibu family, and informing him that they would no longer be
necessary. Takumi felt such relief he drank until he threw up and his wife made
him clean up. She’d had enough of his monthly ritual of drinking himself to
oblivion.
&*&*
Four years later he came across The Child at the Gion festival. Not a child
anymore, but a man, but he hadn’t changed much from the adolescent he had been
when Takumi had seen him last. His frame was taller, his hair was longer, his
face was thinner, and his eyes had lost their curiosity, but it was him.
Takumi didn’t know what made him move towards him, pushing his way through a
crowd of tourists, enthusiasts and people trying to get from one place to the
other. But he was curious. Had he finally cleared his father’s debt to Mibu?
Was he happy? Did he hate Takumi for his role in destroying his childhood? More
importantly, could he forgive Takumi for what he’d done?
He reached for The Child’s sleeve (gods, for him he would always be The Child,
nothing else) and The Child almost broke his nose with his elbow as he turned
around abruptly, glaring at him. Then he saw him and Takumi knew when The Child
recognized him, because The Child froze and gasped.
“Sensei,” The Child whispered, turning pale.
Takumi nodded.
The Child pulled him away from the crowds and into the nearest shop. A small
café, with few decorations and furniture in boring brown, where The Child
pushed him on a seat and waved away the waitress who came to offer them the
menu.
Takumi studied him. He looked well-dressed, well-coiffed, with perfectly
manicured hands. But he didn’t look well; he still looked pale and shocked.
Takumi bowed as deeply as he could. “I am sorry. Forgive me.”
The Child blinked. “Whatever for?” he said after a while.
Takumi looked up, incredulous.
“Yes,” he sighed, “I know why. And yes, I do forgive you. I had forgiven you
already, many years ago. Don’t tell me you felt guilty all these years?”
“Of course. You were a child. No child should have to go through…. And I
allowed it. I helped it happen.” Takumi looked away. “Forgive me.”
“If you need to hear it again, you are forgiven. You have been forgiven, ever
since that first time. You had asked me to forgive you back then too, or have
you forgotten? Besides, it wasn’t like you could have said ‘no’ to my Master.”
Takumi looked up, stricken. “Mibu? He still owns you?”
The Child frowned. “Two cheesecakes. And coffee,” he shouted, raising his hand.
The waitress rolled her eyes upwards. “Seriously,” she sighed. “You’re lucky
the place is empty because of the festival. But please behave from now on.”
“Will try,” he grinned.
She muttered something.
Takumi watched their interaction as if he was watching a film. His mind had
stopped at The Child calling Mibu ‘his Master.’ “So, you’re still not free,” he
whispered, letting his head drop on the table. His gaze turned to the crowds
outside. How happy they seemed.
“Hey.” The Child nudged him.
Takumi turned around to face him. At least he didn’t look that shocked anymore,
just sad and concerned. A plate landed next to him. Takumi sat up, embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
The waitress turned to The Child, frowning.
“His blood sugar is low. He’ll be fine once he eats,” he told her. “Eat,” he
told him.
Takumi did. He didn’t taste a thing but it gave him something to do.
The Child sighed. “They never… They only watched,” he said softly.
“What?”
“I was there to be seen but not to be touched. A carrot promised but never
given,” he said even more quietly than before. “So, please, don’t beat yourself
about what happened.”
Takumi frowned. “But you still call Mibu ‘master’.”
“I work for him. How else am I to call him?”
“Ah.”
“Besides, as far as I’m concerned, he lost the right to be called ‘Father’ when
he first gave me in your care.”
Takumi froze. That was so messed up.
The Child snorted. “You can say that again.”
“So, you have forgiven me?”
“Of course. I’m sorry for making you worry for so long.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Takumi said, shocked. “You were a child. How could I
not worry?”
“Ah, I see. Thank you for your concern, then.”
“You have a stock phrase for everything?” Takumi smiled.
He nodded.
“I still don’t know your name.”
“I’m Oriya. Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you too.”
“Do you still do rope bondage?”
“Yes, but not for Mibu.”
The Child smiled. “I know. I fired you.”
“That was you?”
The smile was brighter. “Yes.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
The… Oriya stood up. “The cheesecakes here are bad. Let me treat you to
something good.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think you understand yet that I have forgiven you. And I have.
Because you taught me a few valuable lessons back then.” Oriya ran a hand
through his hair, looking embarrassed. “Not that everything stuck.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You taught me how to be still when I’m angry, and how to hide inside my
head when I’m sad. How to be a beautiful carrot in all occasions.”
“I’m sorry I had to teach you such things.”
“Better early than later,” Oriya said, sighing as he put money on the table.
“Well, will you join me?”
“Erm, well, my wife is expecting me back for lunch. Our son has promised to
introduce us to his girlfriend and we thought that a lunch would be more
informal than dinner.”
Oriya smiled softly. “Then you should go.”
Takumi bowed. “Thank you.”
“No, don’t say that. Please, come visit me some day,” he said, offering him a
small business card.
“I will. Please, take care of yourself.”
Oriya smiled. He closed the door softly behind them. Takumi stayed behind for a
moment, watching as Oriya wove his way through the crowd. When he’d go home,
he’d hug his son and ask his forgiveness for anything he’d done to him.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Father was Father and his word was Law. That’s what Oriya told himself as he
entered the room quietly and knelt in front of him. He glanced up. Father was
furious.
“You put me in a very awkward position, Oriya. What did we say about running
around at night?”
“I shouldn’t do it.”
“Exactly. And why did we say that you shouldn’t do it?”
“Because we do not want to disturb our precious customers,” he parroted.
Father looked even angrier. “This is not funny, Oriya.”
Oriya tried to look as innocent as possible. “But I just wanted some fresh air,
Father, and I only went as far as the garden.”
Father threw his fan at him. “You were seen. And what have we said about that?”
“I am not to be seen until I am old enough to start working here.”
“Exactly. Do you know why that is, Oriya?”
“So as not to annoy our precious customers?”
Father glared at him. “Are you being stupid now? Or have you forgotten what is
on the evening menu?”
“No.” They sold women in the evenings, though no one had told him exactly what
that meant. Oriya had figured he’d learn when he was older, so he hadn’t cared
much about it. It just was what they did.
“Well, now that one of our most precious customers has seen you, he insists you
should be on the menu too.”
Oriya froze. “What?”
“I can’t refuse him,” Father continued in the same angry tone. “Not completely,
anyway. He is one of the Prime Minister’s closest friends, after all.”
“What?” Why was Father angry at him and not his customer?
“You are being stupid tonight, aren’t you? I managed to convince Matsumoto-san
that since you are still under-age, I cannot allow him to do as he wishes with
you. But I will allow him a small taste. An appetizer, of sorts.”
“You can’t.” Oriya stood up and made to run towards Father.
At a nod from Father Yamazaki grabbed him. Oriya started kicking and hitting
him. “Put me down, put me down now.”
“Oriya,” Father shouted. “Stop this appalling behavior right now. This is not
negotiable.”
“Who spoke about negotiations? What does that mean? Put me down.”
“Now, now, Young Master,” Yamazaki whispered to him, still holding him tightly.
“You can’t,” Oriya shouted at Father. “You can’t do this to me.”
“I can and I will.” Father glared at him. “Either you stop immediately or I
will throw away your swords.”
“No,” Oriya screamed. His swords were his soul, ever since Grandfather had
entrusted them to him.
“Yes.” Father nodded at Yamazaki. “Give him to one of the women to clean him,
and then you can throw…”
Oriya stopped struggling. “Not my swords. Please, forgive me, Father.” Yamazaki
let him go and Oriya knelt deeply on the floor, until his forehead touched the
tatami mat. “Please, I will do everything you want. But let me keep my swords.”
“Yamazaki, don’t throw away the swords after you give him to one of the women.”
“As you wish, Master.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Father glared at him. “If you ever behave like this again, I will throw them
away, Oriya, and take you out of your kendo and iaido classes.”
“Yes, Father,” he whispered. Father was so mean to him, knowing exactly that
the only things he loved were his swords and learning how to use them, and
using his knowledge to make him behave.
“I told Matsumoto-san that he is not allowed to have intercourse with Oriya,
but he may touch him and ejaculate on him if he wants,” Father told Yamazaki.
Yamazaki’s face was a perfect mask, but there was so much anger underneath his
calmness, it scared Oriya. Why? What did Father mean? The only thing he
understood was that Matsumoto-san was allowed to touch him. How?
“And since I suspect that Oriya will manage to be his usual charming and
obedient self regardless of what he promises,” Father snorted, “I’ve arranged
for Takumi-san to tie him with ropes.”
Yamazaki nodded. His anger burned even more brightly inside him.
“Oriya, if I hear from Yamazaki that you behaved in an unbecoming manner
towards Takumi-san and that you made trouble for him, I will throw away your
swords.”
Oriya bowed again. He didn’t understand much, but he would do whatever it took
to keep his swords. “Please don’t, Father. I promise, I will behave.”
“Good. Yamazaki, give him to Saeko-san to prepare him.”
Yamazaki gave him his hand. “Come on, Young Master.”
Oriya stood up on his own. “I’m not a child,” he hissed.
“Manners, Oriya,” Father bellowed behind him.
&*&*
Oriya stood there, feeling cold despite his layers. He had to be on his best
behavior or Father would throw away his soul. He knew Father would do it;
Father could be mean when he was angry, and his word was Law. At least Takumi-
san seemed kind, and had explained to him what he would do.
Oriya couldn’t understand it. What did Matsumoto-san want of him? What was
‘intercourse’ and that other word Father had mentioned? Yamazaki hadn’t
explained to him even though Oriya had asked him as they were driving there.
Yamazaki had only looked at him weirdly and told him ‘welcome to adulthood.’
He looked at Matsumoto-san. He was old, fat, and ugly. Oriya didn’t like him at
all. He also looked at him weirdly, and Oriya didn’t like that at all either.
Matsumoto-san’s gaze made him feel uncomfortable and, despite himself, he
shivered.
“I fucked your mother before she married your father,” Matsumoto-san whispered
to him.
What did that mean? Adulthood was full of strange, unfamiliar words. Should his
mother’s life before she married Father matter to him? He stared at Matsumoto-
san, trying to understand. The image that came to him was even stranger and
more incomprehensible. White skin, dark hair, a red, swollen thing that looked
like a sausage sliding into…
Matsumoto-san reached for him and when the man touched him Oriya felt dizzy and
hungry. Why? He had eaten earlier. He glanced at Takumi-san, but he was
speaking to Yamazaki.
“Such perfect skin,” Matsumoto-san said in the same soft tone as he caressed
his cheek. “Just like your mother.”
Oriya forced himself to stand still. He would do everything Father expected of
him, and he would do it perfectly. He wouldn’t let Father throw away his
swords. His swords were worth his growing discomfort and those weird,
uncomfortable, and ridiculous thoughts that Matsumoto-san had about his red
sausage. Was this adulthood?
Yamazaki suddenly pushed Oriya away. “Matsumoto-san, please, let Sensei do his
work.”
Matsumoto-san licked his lips. “Of course.”
Takumi-san looked at him sadly again. Oriya took a deep breath. He hated being
pitied. He was not pitiful, or sad, or anything. He was Oriya. “Please, do your
work,” he told him with a slight nod.
“Let me know if you feel any discomfort,” Takumi-san said softly, and then
closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
Oriya closed his eyes too, surprised at how easy it was to hear Takumi-san
suddenly. His thoughts were nothing like Matsumoto-san’s. Takumi-san imagined a
clear river, its blue water flowing gently under a clear, blue sky. Oriya let
his own thoughts of discomfort be swept away by this clear stream. He focused
on the way the light fell on the water and made it sparkled.
Takumi-san’s thoughts were too quiet, though, so Oriya imagined the bird song
that would be heard in such a beautiful day. A couple of bush warblers that
would go hoohohookeyo, hoohohookeyo. And there would be fish too, elusive,
silvery, shining that would rush down the stream, delighting in their freedom.
Slowly, Takumi-san started imagining the water taking strange shapes, sliding
through his fingers and harnessed by his touch. Oriya was fascinated; Takumi-
san thought the water was like silk, and he could twist and shape it as he
wished. Front, back, he turned and made it into diamonds, and then wrapped it
around little twigs. Takumi-san wanted everything to look beautiful, especially
this small tree he was binding.
A fish suddenly touched his leg and Oriya giggled. It tickled. His short
laughter made Takumi-san stop. Oriya blinked, feeling like he’d just awoken
from a deep sleep. No fish, no streams, no songbirds, no light. Just him, just
Takumi-san, just Yamazaki, just Matsumoto-san watching.
Matsumoto-san watching him with a hungry expression and rubbing his red, silly-
looking sausage with his hand. Oriya felt sick now that he understood what that
sausage was. Would his penis too grow like that, and be so disgusting?
He must have made a distressed sound, because Takumi-san petted his hair as if
he were a child. No, as if he were his child. Oriya smiled at him. “I’m fine,”
he whispered. “Please, continue.”
Takumi-san gave him a shaky smile. He pushed his leg back until it rested
against his thigh and continued tying him.
“I will start lifting you up, now,” he said. He reached for Oriya’s right knee
and raised his leg up. Then he pulled a length of rope under the rope he’d
already tied around his thigh. More ropes were in front of Oriya, coming down
from the hook on the ceiling and ending at his shoulders.
“Relax,” Takumi-san whispered as he hugged him by the shoulders and pushed him
backwards. A moment later he started pulling on the rope that led to his thigh
and Oriya was up in the air. He gasped. “Don’t worry,” Takumi-san told him as
he tied the rope efficiently to one of the ropes behind his back. “It will hold
your weight.” As if you weight much, Takumi-san sighed.
Oriya nodded, not knowing how to tell Takumi-san not to pity him. What if he
upset Takumi-san? He wanted his swords.
Takumi-san tied another rope around his left ankle, then bent his leg back
until his heel touched his butt, and then tied it there and secured it against
the other ropes. Oriya looked up. Takumi-san had made a beautiful kind of net
coming down the hook, making Oriya feel a little like a fish out of the water,
caught and trapped and not going anywhere.
He looked down. Takumi-san had pushed his kimono in such a way that it fell
between his legs, covering his private parts. When he looked up again, he
smiled gratefully at Takumi-san. He didn’t want Matsumoto-san to see him naked.
Takumi-san bowed slightly. “Forgive me,” he said again.
“Of course.”
Oriya followed Takumi-san with his eyes as he left the room. The moment the
door closed behind him Matsumoto-san stood up and approached him. Oriya stared
at him. “What do you want of me?”
Matsumoto-san kept studying him, panting, his right hand moving faster and
faster around his sausage. The moment Matsumoto-san touched his right thigh
with his left hand, pushing his kimono away, Oriya tried to pull away from him.
“Don’t touch me,” he screamed, frustrated that he could not move but only twist
his body. “Stop.”
His struggle made Matsumoto-san start groaning and pumping his fist even
faster. “Your skin,” Matsumoto-san gasped as he squeezed Oriya’s thigh. “How
soft,” he moaned, touching him lightly on his private parts. His hand was
sweaty.
“Let me go. Stop it. Stop,” Oriya kept shouting at him.
Matsumoto-san’s sausage suddenly spewed a thick, white liquid that landed on
Oriya’s legs and belly. Some drops even fell on his face, hot, slimy, and
disgusting. Oriya’s scream stopped in the bottom of his throat and he could
only stare as Matsumoto-san kept sounding like someone was gutting him while he
stroked himself until all the liquid was out.
“There, there,” Matsumoto-san groaned, and pushed himself against Oriya, trying
to rub his sausage on his private parts. Matsumoto-san’s sausage was wet and
felt slimy, and he stank. Oriya started screaming again.
Yamazaki was there a moment later, pulling Matsumoto-san away from him.
“Remember the rules,” he told him, throwing him on one of the chairs. Then
Yamazaki approached Oriya. “Young Master?”
Yamazaki’s kindness broke through his disgust. Oriya stopped shouting. “Untie
me. Please,” he whispered.
“I’m trying. Can you stay still, please?”
He hadn’t realized he was shivering until Yamazaki spoke. “No.”
Yamazaki sighed. A few moments later Oriya was gently lowered. Before he could
touch the ground Yamazaki hugged him and finished untying him. Oriya grabbed
him as his knees buckled. “Take me home, please.”
“Of course.” Yamazaki lifted him in his arms.
Any other day Oriya would have protested at this treatment, but at that moment
he felt so weak and tired, he couldn’t care. He held on as Yamazaki took him to
the car and put him into the back seat. “Don’t go,” he said, grabbing his arm.
Yamazaki nodded to Matsumoto-san’s bodyguard. Then he slid into the car next to
Oriya, covered him with a blanket, and hugged him again.
Oriya lifted his knees up and moved as close as he could to Yamazaki. Unlike
Matsumoto-san, Yamazaki smelled nice, and he felt warm, not slimy. “What was
that? That white thing?”
“Don’t they teach you anything at school?” Yamazaki sighed.
“No.”
“That was his ejaculate. His come. It comes out of the penis when…”
“When a man is a pervert,” Oriya cut him off.
“No, when a man is aroused,” Yamazaki smiled.
Oriya made a face. He saw Matsumoto-san get into his car, and he felt sick. “Is
that what adulthood is about?”
“Among other things.” Yamazaki rubbed his back.
“Hm.” He wasn’t sure he liked it.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Just disgusted by adults.
“Can I drive us home now?”
Oriya looked at him. He didn’t want Yamazaki to leave him. He was still
shaking, and he didn’t even know why.
Yamazaki stayed where he was. “I’ll tell your father you were on your best
behavior.”
Father? Oriya snorted. Yamazaki meant ‘Owner’ or maybe ‘Master’. “Even though I
shouted at Matsumoto-san?”
Yamazaki sighed. He ruffled Oriya’s hair. Perverts liked it when their victims
asked them to stop. How many times had he had to instruct the girls to act
exactly the way Oriya had? “Even so,” Yamazaki said.
Oriya couldn’t understand adults at all. He pulled away from Yamazaki. “Let’s
go home now.” He felt dirty and all he wanted was to have a bath and go to bed.
He fastened his seat belt, and wrapped himself with the blanket again.
Yamazaki nodded, got out and moved to the driver’s seat. “Ready?” he asked him
one more time.
“Yes. I’m so tired,” he sighed, leaning against the window and closing his
eyes. He’d forgotten to ask what ‘intercourse’ meant. He hoped he didn’t have
to find out the way he found out what ‘ejaculate’ was.
&*&*
“I asked Master to forbid Yoshida-san from touching you,” Yamazaki told him
quietly as he drove them to that house again, “but he said that if he did that
it would like acknowledging that Matsumoto-san is more special than Yoshida-
san.”
“One is not supposed to have favourite customers,” Oriya sighed. “Will Takumi-
san be there?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Oriya sighed again. He liked Takumi-san, but he didn’t like being tied.
He didn’t like being touched either, but… “What kind of a pervert is Yoshida-
san?”
Yamazaki frowned.
“You said that Matsumoto-san likes it when his victims resist him.”
Yamazaki kept staring at him from the rear-view mirror. “I never said that.”
“I was certain you had,” Oriya lied. He’d forgotten that Yamazaki had only
thought that, but never said it. “Or maybe Saeko-san did. Does it matter? What
does Yoshida-san like?”
“Why?”
“If he likes struggling, then I won’t give it to him. I won’t make any of them
happy, ever.”
Yamazaki grinned. Oriya could feel his amusement, but also his pride. “He likes
struggling,” he said. “He’s boringly predictable. But,” Yamazaki’s tone turned
serious, “Wouldn’t it be easier to give in to them? Make them happy, they’ll
come faster, and then leave you alone sooner.”
“Is that what the women do in the evenings? I’m not like them.” Even though his
Master did not seem to think so.
“I know,” Yamazaki said very softy, “but it would make things easier. Think
about it, Young Master.”
“Alright, I will.” He didn’t want to think about it. “When I’m older, I will
take myself off the night menu,” he said.
Yamazaki’s thoughts turned to his earlier discussion with their Master. ‘I’m
too weak to refuse them when they ask,’ he’d told Yamazaki, making him mad,
‘but I suspect he will have no problems doing that.’ “Of course. Or, you can
take them to your bed,” he said, repeating their Master’s words.
Oriya shuddered. “Why would I do that?”
“Just a thought.” Their Master’s thought.
Oriya shook his head. “I don’t even know if I like boys or girls yet,” he
whispered. The other boys in his class knew already, and Sato, who was the
tallest and biggest boy in their year, even had a girlfriend with whom he had
intercourse.
Yamazaki sighed deeply. His anger towards their Master made Oriya happy. “Well,
when you do know, you can decide.”
“I wouldn’t want them anyway. They’re old and perverted.”
“They are rich and powerful.”
So was his Master, and Oriya was his heir. He didn’t need these old men to
become rich or powerful. He hated them. “Yamazaki, how do you know when you
like someone?” Sato had laughed at him when he’d dared ask.
“It differs from person to person. When you do, you’ll know.”
Oriya looked out. “Adulthood is so complicated,” he whined.
&*&*
It took Oriya three more times before he finally learned to stay still and not
give into his desire to scream at the disgusting perverts for touching him. It
had been so difficult; they didn’t even touch him every time, but they kept
thinking of how he was growing up beautifully, and what they really wanted to
do to him. What they thought was so disgusting.
Even then, though, he still needed to hold on to Yamazaki when he brought him
down, and smell his warmth. He needed to be hugged for a few minutes, and be
wrapped in his comfort blanket.
“Young Master,” Yamazaki said as he stroked his hair, “you know Master only
does this to punish you. Can you try to behave in your new school?”
“I can try…” What happened at his old school had not been his fault, though.
Shindou-sensei had been hitting his class-mates all the time and even though
they had complained, nothing happened. When Shindou-sensei tried to hit his
best friend, Oriya reacted. Oriya hadn’t even thrown the first punch at the
fight that ensued, yet Shindou-san was still at school, and he’d been expelled.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Why couldn’t Master ask that of him? Master only expected him to fail.
“You made me worry today,” Yamazaki continued. “You were very quiet.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Oriya smiled at him. “All this time I’ve been trying to find
a place where they don’t touch me. I finally did it.”
Yamazaki sighed.
“It wasn’t finding a place that was the key,” Oriya continued, “It was finding
a different way of thinking about myself. They can touch my body, but not
myself. My body is a thing. Myself is something else. They can’t touch me, even
when they think they do.”
Yamazaki’s arms tightened around him.
Oriya shivered. “But don’t tell Master. It might give him ideas.” Like allow
these perverts to do more than touch him. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to
separate himself from his body so well if the old perverts fucked him.
Yamazaki shivered as well. Fucking Mibu. If it wasn’t for your son, I would
have quit your service. “I won’t.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you ready to go home now?”
“No.” Oriya closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”
“Young Master?” Yamazaki’s tone was carefully blank, but his body tensed. Was
Oriya trying to seduce him? Poor child, he’s been so messed up by his Father
and these perverts.
Oriya smiled at him. “Remember when you first came into our House? I was five
and I was running in the garden. I was about to fall into the pond when you
grabbed me, pulled me up, hugged me, and then put me down again. You know your
scent hasn't changed since then? And I still feel like that five-year-old with
you. Rushing into things I don’t understand, but you are there to save me.
Thank you, Yamazaki.”
Yamazaki relaxed. If I had a little brother, I’d like him to be like the Young
Master. “What are you rushing into now?”
“Adulthood. I still find it difficult.” He still didn’t know if he liked boys
or girls, yet the night before he’d had a wet dream. In his dream, Oriya had
tied his lover up, and he had enjoyed it. It was all so confusing.
***** Chapter 3 *****
The Young Master opened the door. He looked at Yamazaki strangely.
“You didn’t expect me, did you?” Yamazaki grinned.
“Erm… no, not really.” He still looked at him in the same strange manner, as if
he were confused.
“Won’t you let me in?”
“Ah, yes, yes.” The Young Master gave him a shaky smile but he did open the
door widely. “Yes, come in.” He finally smiled the way Yamazaki remembered;
happily and brilliantly. “This is my place. What do you think?”
Yamazaki looked around. Clean, spacious, with lots of light coming in through
the large windows. Could do with a few more furniture, perhaps. He put down his
suitcase. “It looks great.”
“Cheap too.”
Cheap and Tokyo did not go together. “What’s the catch?”
The Young Master laughed. “It’s haunted.”
Yamazaki stopped and took a step back. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” The Young Master grabbed his arm and led him to what was probably the
bedroom. “They found the body of the previous owner here, together with her
cats. Some of the cats were still alive.” The Young Master’s eyes were shining.
“What’s so exciting about that?”
“I’m sharing space with the ghosts of her cats.” The Young Master laughed
again.
How do you know that the previous owner’s ghost is not here as well? He dared
not ask. “You are strange.”
“I know.” He grabbed him again and led him back to the living room. “Sit down.
I was to have left-over rice for breakfast. Happy with that?”
“Yes.” He watched as the Young Master almost bounced to the kitchen area. From
where he was Yamazaki could see him as he prepared the food, starting from
boiling water for tea. He looked comfortable. “You seem to have settled in
well.”
“Yes, I have. I enjoy learning for the first time in my life.” He laughed
again. “Also, I think I might have joined too many clubs.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Kendo, aikido, tea ceremony, ikebana, classical guitar....” His hands
moved fast as he gathered the ingredients for the toppings. “But I can’t decide
which ones to leave. They’re all so enjoyable. I even joined the Japanese dress
club,” he laughed.
“Have you, now?”
“It’s full of people who haven’t worn a kimono since they were seven.”
“Seems to me you can drop that one. You don’t need it.”
“But it’s fun watching them learn how to tie an obi.” He was fast as he was
chopping the ingredients for the toppings.
“I thought the Young Master did not take pleasure in the suffering of others.”
“No…. Maybe I am a little bit mean, though, and you are right. I should quit
this club.”
“Unless you take responsibility.”
“What?”
“You know how to tie an obi, right? And all the rules of how to wear
traditional dress properly, according to the seasons and the occasion? Why
don’t you teach them?”
He started assembling the meal. “They’d think me presumptuous. This is my
second month here.”
“If they are clever, they will be grateful that someone from the Old Capital
bothers teaching them.”
“You’re saying I should take over the club’s leadership,” he said as he poured
the tea.
“Yes.”
The Young Master laughed. He put the bowls and a couple of small sauce bottles
on a tray and came back to the living room. “So, did you come to see my flat or
was there another purpose to your visit?”
“I came to see you.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Yamazaki studied the Young Master. He looked happy. “I did come for another
reason as well. Remember Matsumoto-san?”
The Young Master froze. “I do.”
“Master said....”
The Young Master cut him off with a gesture. “No. I don’t work for him right
now.” The Young Master looked down. His eyes moved, but Yamazaki couldn’t see
anything. “I’m too busy with my studies to work for him.”
Yamazaki nodded. He didn’t expect any great rebellion from the Young Master but
that was enough for him. “Of course. I understand.”
“You do?” The Young Master seemed surprised.
“Of course,” Yamazaki grinned. “I only came here to ask. I did not come here to
persuade you or force you to work for Master.”
“Thank you.”
“I also came for another reason. I’ve decided to resign from Master’s service.
I only stayed because you needed me. Now you no longer need me.” Yamazaki
smiled. “You have grown into a great adult.”
“I have?”
“Yes. Having your own place, cooking your own food, paying your bills. Standing
up to Master. That’s all part of being an adult.”
The Young Master suddenly hugged him, and then moved until he was hugging him
in the way he’d had since he’d been little, knees drawn up, arms around
Yamazaki’s chest, head hiding close to Yamazaki’s armpit.
Yamazaki stayed still. It seemed like his chosen little brother would never
really grow up. That was good too.
“How do you know when you like someone?” The Young Master asked him softly.
“It depends on the person.” The Young Master raised his head and glared at him.
He laughed. “When I met my love I was younger than you. I knew I liked her from
the way I felt my stomach all tied up in knots whenever I saw her. And I knew
she was the one for me from the way I couldn’t imagine life without her.”
“Ah.”
“Do you think you like someone?”
“Maybe,” he said against his chest.
“That’s also part of adulthood.”
“I don’t feel very adult, especially when I’m around them.”
“Them?” Did the Young Master like a boy? Seemed like the Young Master had a
whole number of small rebellions planned. He grinned. Master would be so
annoyed to hear that. “It’s ok to like boys, you know. You don’t have to say
‘them’.”
“It’s ok? Ah.” He sighed.
Yamazaki pushed the Young Master gently away. “I brought something for you,” he
said as he went and brought his suitcase over. He opened it and took out the
Young Master’s blanket. “Adulthood also means knowing to take care of the child
inside you,” he said as he wrapped it around him.
The Young Master looked at him strangely. When Yamazaki sat down he hugged him
again. “So, that’s what it means to be an adult?”
“Yes. To be yourself, even when you feel like a child. To be proud of whom you
like. To stand on your own two feet.” Yamazaki ruffled his hair.
“You have to go now, don’t you?”
“Yes, how did you know?” Yamazaki looked down as he stood up. “You should eat
your food before it gets cold.”
The Young Master pulled the blanket closer to him. “Alright, I will.” He smiled
at him again. “Goodbye, Yamazaki.”
“Goodbye, Young Master.” Yes, now he could go. The Young Master, no, his chosen
little brother could take care of himself. Now, he could go and say goodbye to
his wife too.
***** Chapter 4 *****
The phone’s ringing startled him. He closed the door and went to pick it up.
“Yes?”
“Young Master? This is Tami-san. I have some bad news.”
He sighed. “Yes?”
“Yamazaki-kun was killed this morning in a car accident.”
“Ah.” He’d wondered about how it had happened. “Thank you for letting me know.
Has the wake started?”
“Not yet; he is still at the morgue. They will release him this afternoon. The
accident, you see…”
Of course. “Thank you. Tami-san, can you find my black suit for me? It’s not
here.”
“So, you are coming immediately?”
“Of course.” He checked his bag again. His wallet and his keys were there. Yes,
he had everything he needed. He looked at the blanket still on the couch. No,
this should stay here.
“I will arrange everything, then.”
“Thank you.” He hung up and started crying again, surprising himself. He
thought he’d run out of tears an hour ago.
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