Chapter 5

Regular users of Asylum Net were mostly in their twenties and thirties, with the occasional person in their forties who had just been laid off. Morimoto also ran a job posting website on the Internet, and actively introduced regulars to the employers registered there.

The lucky ones who were able to snag a job would go out and come back late at night. When they had free time, they chatted with their roommates. A sense of community, so rare among young people of today, blossomed here. Some roommates would move out to rent an apartment together. Once they rented a place, they would be able to enroll in health insurance. It was a chance for them to move up from the lowest rungs of society.

There were still few people who had reached the next milestone beyond that - permanent, full time employment - but Kuji felt that this system worked.

Then, what was the problem?

Just as he was thinking of telling Song that there was nothing to be suspicious about, it happened.

A youth named Ogura, who had been staying at the shelter for three months now, approached Kuji. He had asked Kuji to do his laundry a number of times, and on this day, too, he came down to the basement boiler room with his laundry bag in hand.

"You can leave it there," said Kuji, in the midst of tossing someone else's laundry into the machine. Ogura fidgeted on the spot.

"Hey," he said, "do you remember Yoshida? He was here for about six months, remember?"

It had been less than a month since Kuji had begun working here. Perhaps because of his job as an S, he was better than most at remembering names and faces. But even then, he was not able to recall Yoshida.

"You know I only come into the basement for a little bit every day, right?" Kuji said. "Everyone's out working when I come in during the day. How should I know about him?"

"Yeah, but he was a bit of a clean freak," Ogura replied. "He put out his laundry every day."

Kuji was finally able to conjure a vague mental image. He remembered Yoshida was a little heavyset and bespectacled, with an appearance of a stereotypical otaku, or geek. Now that Ogura mentioned it, he hadn't seen the young man for a while. But there were many people like that.

"Are you sure he didn't just move out into an apartment somewhere because he had enough money?"

Ogura shook his head firmly. "That can't be."

"How do you even know? Are you guys best friends, or something?"

"No, but... I have proof." Ogura brought a closed fist out from behind his back, stuck it under Kuji's nose, and opened his hand slowly.

"Huh?" Kuji said.

"Don't you know what this is? It's Darth Vader."

"Yeah, I know that. But what about it?"

"He and I are both huge fans of action figures and figurines. You know what I'm getting at, right?" Ogura said with a look of derision. Kuji almost threw a punch at him, but managed to hold off and nod instead.

"So?"

"See, you don't get it. This is super rare. The only thing he'd treasure more is his life!" Ogura burst out loudly. He caught himself and hastily put his hand over his mouth. Kuji was a little exasperated to see someone get so worked up about nothing in this day and age. He turned away from the boy in front of him.

"I'm busy. We can talk later."

"Wait! You're the only one I can talk to," Ogura said, pulling at his sleeve.

"Go to Morimoto. He's the boss of this place."

"I can't. He's probably one of them."

Kuji turned around and saw fear in Ogura's eyes. He closed the door of the washing machine and jerked his chin.

"This way," he said, and led the boy behind an unused boiler, where they both sat down.

"What are you talking about?" he asked once they were settled.

"You know about urban legends? There's one going around among Internet cafe refugees. They say if you keep on wandering around like this, someday you'll get kidnapped and taken somewhere."

"Kidnapped..." Kuji felt some flags go up his mind. But they were talking about nothing more than an urban legend.

Ogura looked panicked at Kuji's unconvinced look. "That's why I'm saying, isn't it weird that Yoshida's gone?" he insisted.

"Like I said, some guys move out to rent an apartment. Other ones go back to the countryside. Some of them actually become homeless. Maybe he's gone and done one of those."

"But I think he would take this along." The little Darth Vader on the palm of the boy's hand looked anything but valuable. But for an action figure fanatic, perhaps it was.

"Then, maybe he left his stuff behind to stay overnight somewhere else because he's doing an overnight shift at work."

Ogura shook his head.

"His locker and bunk bed are all cleaned out. The locker had the key back inside, and it was empty."

"Isn't that weird?" Kuji asked. "You mean he didn't keep his precious action figure in his locker?"

Ogura yet again gave him a look of scorn. "He used to keep this on the frame of his bunk bed and look at it until he fell asleep. His figurines are his life. Of course he would keep it in close reach."

Ogura had been on the top bunk of the same bed, and when they found out that they both shared the same interest in "geek" or "Akihabara" pop culture, they had hit it off and shared stories about their upbringing as well.

"I'm an Evangelion fan, though," Ogura said, his nostrils flaring proudly. Kuji had no response for that.

"Can you get on with the rest of the story? Besides, where did you even find that?"

"I was just about to tell you," Ogura said sullenly, and resumed. "I was lying on my bed writing my resume when I dropped my pen."

He had climbed down from the bunk bed and gotten down on the floor to look at the gap between the bottom bunk and the floor.

"That's when I found it. It was on the floor. There's definitely something wrong with that. He would never leave it lying on the floor like that. He was always careful not to drop it, and when other people touched it by mistake, he'd get really angry."

Kuji felt he had a point. The figurine was small enough to be hidden in one's closed fist.

"When was the last time you saw that Yoshida guy?"

"Five days ago. He said Mr. Morimoto found him a good job, and he was really stoked. He hadn't been working for about a week that time. He was pretty eager to go back. But he didn't come home that day. I had the late shift on the cash register at the convenience store, and even when I came home after that, he still hadn't come back."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

Ogura nodded.

"And when I looked the next day, his things and his sheets were gone, too. I hadn't found his Darth Vader yet, so I thought he'd moved out. I was kind of pissed that he didn't even say bye, but I figured that was how things went."

"You had other roommates, right? Did you ask them?"

Ogura shrugged. "I did just in case, but no one saw him leave."

Nango would probably have done a better interrogation. But Kuji had no idea what else he could ask. He tried to sort through his thoughts.

"Okay. So, one: Yoshida left. Two: His Darth Vader was left behind. We can't say for sure that Yoshida was abducted based on just these two things. But there's one solid fact that we can deduce. Yoshida wasn't the one who cleaned out his belongings. Correct?"

Ogura widened his eyes. "I see. Wow, you're smart."

"I just sorted out what you told me. There's a possibility[m1] that Yoshida was too busy and asked someone else to bring his stuff for him. But I don't think so. He would probably tell that person to bring the Darth Vader, no matter what. If the guy that packed for him forgot, Yoshida would probably come fetch it himself, or he would contact you and tell you to keep it safe."

"You're smart," Ogura said again, impressed. Kuji wondered what else he could think of. There was a phrase - one he heard on television often.

"The police have affirmed the possibility of foul play in this incident."

But if Yoshida had been abducted or disappeared as a result of foul play, would he bother to come and retrieve his belongings?

No. Someone had come to fetch them so as not to generate suspicion. If Ogura hadn't found the Darth Vader figurine, everyone would have assumed that Yoshida had simply moved out. Which meant that the person who had come to retrieve Yoshida's belonging had also gotten him involved in something sinister.

"Hey, remember how you said Morimoto might be 'one of them'? What do you mean by that?"

"Because he told me that Yoshida came to pick up his own stuff," Ogura answered. "He lied."

"He told you directly?"

"Yeah."

"When was that? Just now?"

Ogura nodded. Kuji could barely restrain himself from calling Ogura an idiot. He could have asked immediately after Yoshida left, and it would have been no problem. But asking now would almost make him seem like he had caught on to the disappearance.

If Morimoto really was one of the abductors, Ogura's question would have put him on guard. Yoshida's disappearance had already become an accomplished fact in Kuji's mind. And his final conclusion was that Yoshida had disappeared as a result of foul play.

But what kind of foul play? Was it what Song had been worried about? Kuji had no idea how to go from there. He stuck his hand out toward Ogura.

"I'll keep the Darth Vader for now."

Ogura handed it over to him without a moment's hesitation. "Sure," he said. "If Yoshida comes back and I'm not home, I wouldn't be able to give it to him, anyway. I've got work, too."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Kuji said.

Kuji left the building, sticking both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The entertainment district was lit up with streetlamps and neon lights, making the place seem brighter than it had been during the overcast day. He made his way toward the subway station when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm.

"What—?" Kuji was dragged forcefully into a gap between two buildings. He whipped his head up to see an angry face right up close to his.

"Nango!"

"You bastard, you didn't pick up my calls to meet! What have you been doing these past two weeks?"

Kuji desperately tried to twist out of Nango's grip.

"I'm not letting you go," the man snarled, snapping his teeth like a wild animal as he pinned Kuji's arms behind him and pushed his head against the concrete wall. A hand towel was shoved into his mouth before Kuji could even raise his voice. Nango pulled off Kuji's leather jacket down to his forearms and tied the sleeves together. His hands were bound behind him and he could not move. Kuji leaned against the wall.

His pants were quickly yanked down to his ankles.

"Listen. You're my S. Got that? Rebel against me, and I'll kill you. I'm serious."

Kuji's legs were spread apart, and a searing hot rod was jammed into his very core.

"Nghhh!" Kuji tried to scream, but the towel was pushed further into his mouth to stop him. Kuji gagged and flexed his abdomen, trying to fight the urge to vomit. He felt the thing inside him and arched his back reflexively.

"Don't move."

Nango grabbed him by the nape of the neck and bent him over a nearby garbage can.

"Show me your ass."

Kuji already was - in this position, bent over the trash can, his buttocks were already raised high. He heard a slam and whirled around to see one of the busboys from the sex parlors standing there with a trash bucket.

"Fuck off!" Nango barked. "Or else, I'll fuck you, too!"

The busboy tossed his bucket aside and closed the door hastily behind him.

"Talk about ruining the moment," Nango spat as he began to penetrate Kuji. Every time Kuji was pierced by the man's thick rod, his body recalled the pleasure he had felt when he masturbated in Song's lap. He hadn't had anal sex since then.

He felt the man's penis digging into his soft insides, and underlying his pain was the sensation that his innards were churning.

Yes, this was what he had wanted - the hot shaft of a man inside him.

Kuji did not even realize that he was gyrating his hips. He arched his back to match Nango's movements, devoured him deeply, and clenched. Every time the rod tried to get out of him, he latched on.

A moan escaped from the wadded towel in Kuji's mouth.

"That's what I like to hear. Finally remembering what my cock tastes like, huh?" he heard Nango say with his usual contempt, but Kuji was beyond caring about appearances. He nodded his head vigorously, giving Nango a pleading look over his shoulder.

"That's it, beg for my compassion," Nango said as he breathed raggedly, picking up his pace.

"Nh—nhh—!"

He called Nango's name when he climaxed. Fortunately for Kuji, the towel prevented his outburst from forming coherent words.

Nango zipped up his fly while he looked down at Kuji, who was lying, spent, on the ground. He kicked at Kuji's ribs.

"Give me your cell phone."

When Kuji handed it over, Nango took out the memory chip and put it into another phone. He pressed some numbers, forwarded the data, and when that was done, he dropped the cell phone on Kuji's belly.

"Use this one. The number is the same. So is all the data that's stored in it."

Nango then placed his foot on top of Kuji's groin.

"Nango..."

Nango sniffed derisively when Kuji looked at him with fearful eyes.

"I won't hurt you, bastard. You can still make yourself useful. But," he said, as he leaned his weight on Kuji's crotch, "if you try to do anything stupid again..."

The foot came off. Kuji somehow managed to sit up. Nango's face was closing in towards him.

"Listen. All you have to do is moan for my penis and that's it. You wanted it, didn't you? You latched onto me like some fucking octopus."

Kuji didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He looked silently up at Nango instead. But Nango showed neither derisive contempt nor anger as he looked back at Kuji with hard eyes.

"Don't let your thoughts wander on things that don't matter. Don't wish for things you can't have."

He was absolutely right, Kuji thought. But he still shook his head vehemently. He closed his eyes, bracing to be given a blow, but the blow did not come. He snapped his eyes open to see Nango with his back to him.

"All you have to do is keep watch on Song. Do anything else, and I can't guarantee that you'll make it out alive."

When Kuji got back to the church, Song was nowhere to be found.

Kuji's pants gave off a sour odor, a mix of wet garbage, semen, and sweat. The smell still clung to him even after he had taken off his pants. He decided to take a shower.

Once Kuji was naked and in the shower room, he finally understood the reason for the smell.

"The bastard didn't wear a condom," Kuji swore under his breath as he inserted his fingers in from behind and opened himself up. The white liquid that the man had funneled into him dripped down his thigh. Kuji took his time to clean his insides thoroughly in the shower. When he inserted his fingers, he could feel how hot it was and how the folds of flesh in its inner lining throbbed. His body was still thirsting for a penis regardless of his will. He loathed the fact that his body had grown accustomed to Nango.

"Damnit... damnit..." Kuji growled as he fingered himself. He tried to imagine Song's fingers, but the only image that rose on the back of his eyelids was Nango's face and his fiercely-rearing penis.

Defeated, Kuji pulled his fingers out and splashed his restless body with cold water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen, where he found Song waiting.

Kuji kept his head down as he drew closer, ashamed of having climaxed ecstatically at the hands of Nango. But he still decided to come clean.

"...I did it again."

Song placed his hand gently on Kuji's head. "Masatake, God will not abandon you because of that. You have nothing to fear."

"But you—!" Kuji burst out loudly as he roughly brushed Song's hand off of him. "You think I'm filthy, don't you? Telling you that I love you like that, even jerking myself off on your lap... and then still liking it when I'm fucked by another guy! I even promised myself I'd stop... make do by thinking about you while I do it myself... but I still let myself get fucked, and I came, over and over—"

Kuji's last words were hoarse, and he turned his face aside, feeling ashamed. But Song only placed his hand again on Kuji's head.

"God made men's bodies this way. There's nothing we can do about that."

If there really was a God, how idiotic it was for Him to do this, Kuji thought. He shifted his gaze back to Song. He studied the peaceful face looking back at him.

"And... how about you? You're not impotent. Don't you get urges to do it sometimes? Or are you not allowed to jerk off, either? How do you restrain yourself? Is it super easy? Piece of cake?"

"Super easy, piece of cake, huh. Sounds like typical teenager speak," said Song, his lips turning up slightly. "I will say that I do find it very difficult sometimes."

Kuji widened his eyes in astonishment. "How... how do you resist?"

"There was someone who once saved my life. When I remember that, and it's not difficult anymore."

"Your life..." He had never expected those words to come out of Song's mouth. He was expecting to hear things about God's love, or absolute happiness, or a ticket to Heaven. Things like that.

He suddenly recalled what Nango had said.

"We think he's a sleeper for the North."

Song's life had been in danger - because he was a spy? Were the scars on his back related to that? Yet Song had said that he did not believe in his country. Would someone be a spy for a country he did not trust? He didn't know.

Kuji continued to stare at Song in silence. Song slid his hand off of Kuji's head and lifted the napkin on the table to reveal a deep dish containing rice balls.

"A member of the congregation made them. Let's have dinner. Go and put your clothes on."

Kuji returned to the change room, picked up his underwear and pants from the floor, and headed toward the washing machine. Before throwing the clothes in, he reached into the pockets. He pulled out the cell phone that Nango had given him, and also found the Darth Vader figure that came out with it.

"Oh..." He had completely forgotten about Ogura. Kuji changed quickly and went back to the kitchen, calling out to Song, who was pouring coffee for both of them.

"Hey, I heard something weird today," he said. Song paused from pouring the coffee as Kuji continued to elaborate. The man furrowed his brow and appeared to lapse deep into thought. Deep wrinkles were etched between his eyebrows.

"Masatake, to tell you the truth, I've actually also heard rumors. Not like the urban legend that Ogura mentioned to you, but it might be something similar. The only difference is that this was a horrible and very criminal act. When I first heard about it, I thought it was absurd. I had trouble believing it."

"And what's that?" Kuji glared impatiently at Song for drawing his story out. "Tell me."

Song looked worriedly at Kuji. "It's very frightening. You might not be able to bear hearing about it, Masatake."

"Don't worry, I'm a spy for Public Safety," he wished he could say. But he couldn't. "I've been in jail, you know," he said instead, puffing his chest out. "I was even a part of the yakuza. Little things aren't gonna scare me."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten. Seeing how you are, now, Masatake, I wouldn't even be able to imagine," Song smiled wryly as he handed Kuji his coffee. "Maybe coffee wasn't the best drink to go with rice balls," he added as an afterthought.

After dinner, Song asked if he would be able to meet Ogura. "I want to see him in person and hear his story."

Kuji cocked his head, unsure. "He's working part-time at a convenience store right now. I don't know what his shifts are like. Let me call him and see." With that, he flipped open the phone that Nango had given him. Ogura's number was already listed. The young man picked up immediately.

"He's working the evening shift. He'll be finished at twelve," Kuji kept his cell phone to his ear as he told Song. "He says he'll be able to come by bike, so he's going to go home to Okubo first. What do you want to do?"

"Let's pick him up."

Kuji was surprised at the man's answer, but nonetheless told Ogura, anyway.

"He says there's no problem with that. But why?" he asked as he put the cell phone away in his back pocket.

"We shouldn't wait until tomorrow. It's just a gut feeling." Song pulled out his own cell phone and began contacting someone else. Once he was done, he looked over at Kuji. "I'm going out for a bit," he said. He looked clearly on-edge, wearing an unusually severe look.

"Where're you going?" Kuji asked.

"I'm going to rent a car. The subways won't be running at midnight anymore, remember?"

Kuji could see his point.

"Catch some sleep, Masatake," Song told him. But even after returning to his room, Kuji found it hard to calm down. He had a feeling that something was going to happen behind his back without him having any awareness of it.

He clutched the cell phone that Nango had given him.