Both Are For You

THE NEWS COMMENTARY ended at precisely 10:43 p.m., exactly in accordance with the cue sheet.

“Rest assured, we’ll be keeping an eye on future developments.”

It was strange—no matter how long-winded any given commentator’s critique, once Asou wrapped it up, it felt finished. Conversely, no matter how spicy the take, without Asou there to act as a platform, the viewers would probably find it lacking.

Unlike me, Asou conducted himself as though the cameras were rolling at all times. He seemingly paid no mind to the assistant director’s cue cards, nor the floor manager’s directions passed on from the SCR (studio control room). No matter whether he was behind or ahead of schedule, he never batted an eye; he simply made adjustments to balance it out on the fly. The SCR could be losing their minds over delayed video footage and he’d just buy time with some cleverly improvised commentary until it finally played—so natural, you’d think it was in the script. Each broadcast was putty in Asou’s hands, just waiting to be shaped.

I was reasonably confident in my own ability, but even then, I was forced to admit that I was nowhere near this guy’s level…and quite possibly I would never get there. Sometimes effort and aptitude couldn’t make up for sheer talent.

“Next up, let’s head over to sports. Minagawa-san, if you would.”

“Yes, sir!”

The feed then switched away from the long rectangular table with Asou, me, and the other main commentators to a round table positioned stage right. Next to it, the sports anchor stood at attention beside a large TV monitor.

“Minagawa Tatsuki here! First up, let’s talk soccer. We’ve got a great interview with the rising star who transferred to Italy’s own A.C. Milan—and after the clip we’ll have a special gift, so be sure to stick around!”

From there, we received a seven-minute respite from the camera as the video played—but all it meant was that we weren’t visible to the people watching at home, so I couldn’t let my guard all the way down. No slouching, no elbows on the table. Instead, I focused intently on the interview footage…or at least, I pretended to. In order to play up my love of my work, I nodded, smiled, and/or leaned forward whenever it felt natural to do so.

Meanwhile, in my mind, I pictured what I would do if some idiot paid me five billion yen. Fill a swimming pool with bills and swim around in it? Take a helicopter to work every day? Honestly, I was a saint for even entertaining the notion of continuing to hold a job as a billionaire. Maybe I’d give Ushio about a million of it.

Next, I paused to think of a few comments I could give in the event I was asked for my opinion after the video ended—including different length varations to account for the time remaining.

As usual, I was on top of my game.

 

***

 

“Kunieda-san, you seemed like you were real interested in that sports interview! Are you a soccer fan?” asked the assistant director, once the show had ended and everyone was wrapping up for the night.

See? I knew one of these plebs would take the bait.

“No, no, I don’t know anything about sports. It was just a really fascinating video,” I replied, making sure to flatter the editing team. “Especially since I heard a lot of athletes tend to avoid interviews.”

“Exactly!” he replied, glancing over at tonight’s star anchor. “You’re incredible, Minagawa-san! That guy’s always come off as super aloof during postgame press conferences, but with you he was completely at ease! And you filmed it right there in his house?! I’ve never heard of anyone letting a reporter into their house before!”

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty rare,” Tatsuki replied casually, like it was no big deal. “He seemed kinda grouchy at first, but then we started talking about manga, and for some reason he really opened up after that! When I told him I hadn’t read the latest volume, he told me I could come over to his house and read it, as long as I helped him tidy up in exchange. So I did!”

“What, for real?!”

“Yeah, I searched his whole house for porno magazines! But we had to cut that part, obviously.”

“What happened to helping him tidy up…?”

“Tatsuki!” called Asou, interrupting the conversation. Timidly, the assistant director took a few steps back. Not that Asou was really that intimidating, but something about him commanded that sort of respect.

Tatsuki, however, was perhaps too dense to pick up on social cues. “What’s up?” he asked offhandedly.

“I noticed a mistake you made tonight.”

“Wait, what? Where?”

“I had a feeling you hadn’t noticed. Kunieda, clue him in, will you?”

Ugh, do it yourself!

I paused to “contemplate” for a moment, then raised a finger in epiphany. “You’re talking about the ‘special gift’ promotion segment, right?”

“Correct,” Asou nodded.

“Huh? What was wrong with it?” asked Tatsuki.

“You said ‘three lucky winners,’” I explained.

He stared at me blankly. “But the subtitles on screen literally said the same thing!”

Asou gave me a look that said keep going.

Rolling my eyes internally, I continued, “The subtitles are one thing, but in the code of conduct outlined in the Asabi employee handbook, newscasters are only supposed to refer to the people watching at home as ‘viewers’ out of respect.”

“Huh? I’m not sure they taught us that during orientation week… Maybe your handbook is out of date by now?”

“You both have the exact same handbook,” Asou insisted. “Kunieda was only hired two or three seasons ahead of you, you know.”

“What does it even matter?” Tatsuki whined.

“If you intend to be a professional in this industry, then I never want to hear those words from you again. And here I was going to compliment you on your excellent interview…”

“What? Noooo, c’mon! Tell me I did good! Or, on second thought, maybe wait until Shitara-san’s around!”

“You called?”

Just then, Shitara stepped out of the SCR, and Tatsuki perked up. “Asou-san was just saying that I’m a genius!” he bragged.

“Oh yeah? A genius who doesn’t know how to pronounce the word ‘respite’?”

“I’m pretty sure most people don’t know how to pronounce that!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. It’s time for the eval, folks!”

After a brief review of tonight’s broadcast, we were free to go…but then Tatsuki sidled up to me. At first glance, he looked like the happy-go-lucky type—the kind of guy you couldn’t picture ever having any negative emotions. Whenever he smiled, his blinding white teeth seemed to take up more than half of his face.

“Kunieda-san, are you free this Saturday?”

“Why do you ask?” I replied, quietly concealing the fact that I did not want to have to waste a single second of my precious day off, thank you very much.

“You should come out with me for a mixer!”

If I wanted to sit around and waste my time, I’d stay at home and play the vuvuzela. I donned my best apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I’m not great at small talk with strangers. I’d just be a wet blanket.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll handle all the small talk! You just have to sit there and smile!”

If that’s all you want from me, then hang a poster of my face, for all I care. Take a hint, will you? I don’t want to go! Annoyed, I contemplated the best way to let him down without being too harsh.

Just then, another staff member stepped in. “Lay off Kunieda-san, will you? You’re making him feel bad.”

Excellent. Well done. For your efforts, I’ll give you…I don’t know, one of my used erasers or something.

“Awww, man…”

“By the way, did you hear about the day trip to the hot springs?”

“Oh yeah, that! What’s the plan?”

With the subject safely changed, I hurried away to wash my face.

 

***

 

After another meeting in the staff room and a dozen additional minor tasks, it was nearly midnight. For an evening anchor who left work during primetime, the train commute home was hell on earth—but luckily for me, late-night anchors were given free taxi tickets, so I got to skip all that nonsense.

Stepping out of the car, I thanked the driver with a smile…and once I crossed over the threshold into my apartment, the Kunieda Kei show was officially over for the night. Now it was time to take a shower, change into my tracksuit, slide on a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses and a surgical mask, and head back outside. Two keys hung from the keyring in my pocket; one was a state-of-the-art copy-protected key, and the other was an antique three-leaf clover key.

The cold was actually pretty tolerable on nights like these when the wind was still. Dead leaves littered the pavement, giving off a pleasant autumn scent. Not long after I started walking, as if on cue, I got an e-mail: Milk, white bread, packaging tape.

Where’s the “Please buy this for me,” asshole? Nevertheless, I stopped by the convenience store, then walked another ten minutes and let myself into the house with the old clover key.

“They were sold out of white bread, so I got whole grain,” I told him, in a gruff voice that no one would ever mistake for the famous Kunieda Kei. And in response, what did I get? No “come on in,” not even a passing glance. He was too busy staring at his computer screen.

“Put it in the fridge,” he replied.

Rude much? “How about a thank you?”

“Good work, champ.”

“Screw you.”

I walked up the stairs to the second floor and stuffed the whole to-go bag into the refrigerator. Next, I took out a can of beer. Then I sat down on the bed, propped myself up with a pillow, stretched my legs out, and enjoyed my drink as I reviewed tonight’s recording of The News.

A short while later, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, followed by the sound of the refrigerator door opening. “Hey, don’t leave the tape in there!”

“Don’t like it? Do it yourself next time.”

Shrugging off his complaint, I went back to the TV. Then I heard the bedsprings creak on the other side of the bed.

“Tonight’s interview segment was really interesting,” Ushio said.

I turned and glared at him. “Great. Not you too.”

“What?”

“Everyone’s always fawning all over that guy, that’s what!”

“I’m not fawning over him. I just enjoyed the show, that’s all.”

“Just because he won over some stupid athlete, he thinks he’s the big man on campus… Not only that, he invited me to a mixer! Me! To a mixer!”

“He’s probably just trying to make sure his kind, warmhearted senpai feels included. He sounds like a nice guy.”

“Trust me, it’s not that.”

Ushio took the beer out of my hand and stole a sip, then regarded me with a withering look. “You know what? You complain way too much about this…‘Minakawa Tatsugi’ or whoever. Feels like you do nothing but trash-talk him every single night.”

“Yeah, because I freakin’ hate his guts!”

Asou had returned to work that fall with one third of his stomach removed—just in time for the autumn reshuffle. During the six-month period that I filled in for him, the ratings hovered mostly between fifteen and seventeen percent—passing marks for what essentially amounted to a stopgap. In the end, the numbers we achieved on our first night were nothing more than a lucky fluke.

Since I’d already gotten into the rhythm of my new role, they shifted me to the position of co-anchor/program coordinator/script reader, and I was perfectly fine with that. What I didn’t like, however, was the rookie they assigned to sports. He was just twenty-five with no prior reporting experience, and yet somehow he landed a spot on the station’s flagship news show? To the rest of us, that was an even bigger bombshell than Asou’s return to work.

Worst of all, anyone who talked about it inevitably prefaced it with, “Obviously I was surprised when it happened with Kunieda, but…” This made me feel inferior enough as it was. But then, amidst all the excitement and curiosity and resentment that emanated from our studio, in walked Tatsuki like it was no big deal. I was furious at how fast he fit in with us. Of course, every time he screwed up, I gloated internally, but this was always followed by anger at his utter lack of effort…and there was only one person on this earth I could vent to.

“I’ve hated him ever since his interview. Stupid smug smirk on his face… He thinks he can just coast through life by being nice and funny and smart…”

“And he’s correct,” Ushio shrugged. This pissed me off even more…not that I wanted him to trash talk the guy just because I was doing it. “It’s not his fault you chose to create a fake persona and he didn’t.”

Doesn’t mean I want you to call me out on it. “Yeah, I know. Shut up.”

Having lost all motivation to continue my news review, I switched off the TV, finished my beer, and pulled the covers up to my neck.

“That’s it? You’re done?”

“I’m too tired.”

I turned my back to him; he started playing with my hair.

“What?” I snapped.

“I’m fawning over you. See? Fawn, fawn, fawn.”

I’m gonna “fawn” my fist up your ass. “Knock it off, would you? I’m a ‘go big or go home’ kind of guy. I want to be adored by the masses.”

“Even if they did, you wouldn’t bat an eye. The thing about ‘the masses’ is, they don’t swoon over a guy who was always competent right from the start.”

“Well, I’m not gonna jump for joy! I’m a grown man!”

“Yes, yes, I know. And you’re working so hard. I’m soooo proud of you.”

The more emphasis he put on the so’s, the more sarcastic it started to sound.

“You’re soooo adorable, too.”

“You can stop fawning now.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.”

“That’s stupid,” I spat angrily, hoping to hide my quavering voice.

“Look at me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I wanna see more of Grouchy Slob Kei before you have to transform back.”

“No. Just let me sleep. I have to go in at ten tomorrow.”

“That’s early. How come?”

“Gotta do street interviews.”

“Where at? Want me to casually loiter around?”

“Do that and I’ll ignore the hell out of you… I’m going to Ginza, and Minagawa’s going to Shibuya. Waste of my damn time… They oughta just send him by himself. Why the hell should I have to do half of his work?” I grumbled as my annoyance resurfaced.

Just then, I felt Ushio bite my earlobe from behind. It didn’t hurt, but it did startle me, and I let out a tiny yelp.

“Agh! Don’t! Stop!”

“What was that? ‘Don’t stop?’”

I whirled around to look at him. “That is not what I said!”

He fixed me with a seductive look that said, You sure?

“I told you… I’m going to sleep.”

“So go to sleep. I’ll find something to tide me over.”

“What am I, fridge leftovers?!”

“Now, now, settle down.”

Every time I entertained his teasing with a serious response, I was only playing right into his hands. I had learned this lesson a dozen times by now, and yet it never seemed to stick. Generally I considered myself to be a pretty smart guy, but when it came to Ushio, I was so goddamn stupid.

He yanked my mask down, slid my glasses up, and leaned over me.

“Hey—!”

At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but he stopped short just as our noses touched. We stared at each other for a moment.

“Wh…what?”

“There. Now I can finally see your handsome face.” He smiled innocently. “Welcome home, Kei.”

Words could not express how frustrating it was that those three little words were somehow more fulfilling to me than the adoration of thousands. And worse still, I was pretty sure he knew it.

I hated how devoted I was to him—so in revenge, I kissed him.

“Oh? Finally in the mood, are we?”

“Shut up and let’s get this over with. I’m sleepy.”

“Roger that.”

As he peppered my cheeks and forehead with kisses, even I couldn’t keep a straight face. When he gestured wordlessly for me to strip, I was at best dubious…but then, when he climbed naked on top of me, it felt as though I was swaddled in a heavenly blanket made just for me.

“Mm…”

As he held me in his tight embrace, my breathing grew hot and heavy, and I found myself frustrated that I couldn’t simultaneously enjoy both a peaceful night and a more passionate one.

“Aah!”

Maybe he felt obligated to move things along quickly for my sake; he smoothly trailed his fingers down my body and arrived at my pelvis without any detours, pausing only to caress my hip before following the curve to its logical conclusion.

“Nnn…”

He gently grasped my recumbent shaft and deftly began to tease my lust awake, willing it to spill forth from inside.

“Well now! This is working pretty well, considering how ‘sleepy’ you claim to be.”

“It’s working because I’m sleepy, stupid!”

“Oh really?”

“Aah…!”

His dry, rough palm added to the stimulus, driving me wild every time. Meanwhile, he ran his free hand all over my sweaty body and grinned. “Your skin’s so smooth.”

Times like these, I always felt so unspeakably reaffirmed. I never used to need anyone’s approval, and yet…for once, it made me appreciate the body I was born in. I hope you get that, dumbass.

“Aah…aaahh…”

The next thing I knew, our bodies were pressed perfectly together, skin against skin. And with each repeat visit up and down my member, the foundation of my lust grew stronger. So too did my heartbeat, transmitted to Ushio through direct contact. He pecked playfully at my loosely parted lips; the audible wetness summoned forth a different wetness down south.

“Aah!”

The fluids leaking from my tip added lubrication to his motions, making a sexy mess…but this only enhanced my pleasure. He slid his tongue into my mouth, and I pushed back in kind, devouring him. As he teased the roof of my mouth, my cock twitched in his hand.

“Mm…mmph…”

“Find something to tide me over,” my ass. The sweet torture was enough to make me thrust my hips in impatience. In response, he rubbed his thumb against the border that delineated my engorged head and my shaft.

“Nngh!”

The way I saw it, my libido was a solid object located deep inside me. Subjected to the heat from Ushio’s hands and tongue, however, it melted down into wax and slowly leaked out.

“Nnn…aaahh…aah!”

“Kei.”

And the heat of his voice only added more fuel to that fire.

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Nngh… Yeah…I wanna cum…and then I want to go straight to sleep,” I whimpered. Normally I would’ve kept that last part to myself, but Ushio had a way of getting the unvarnished truth out of me. Maybe it was because he was the only one who ever managed to see the man behind the mask.

“Then you don’t get to.”

He slid his hand down and pressed a finger hard against my entrance—not hard enough to penetrate, but hard enough to make me jerk away from him.

“Don’t!”

“Putting it off again?”

“You told me I could sleep after this!”

“Yeah, and that was a joke, dumbo. I’m not gonna have my way with your unconscious body.”

“Aah! No!”

Taking care not to let me orgasm, he pumped out more of my thick, translucent fluid and used it to soften up my entrance. You’d think I’d be in control of my own body, and yet he manipulated me so easily it was actually terrifying. As he distracted my mind with the handjob, he slid his finger past the point of no return, teasing my prostate until I was in danger of cumming the second he inserted himself.

“No… Aaahh… Don’t…!”

He was gripping the base of my shaft so tightly that I couldn’t cum even if I wanted to.

“Agh… Ushio, that hurts… I need to cum!”

“But if you do, you’ll just go to sleep, won’t you?”

“No… I won’t! I promise!”

“I’m not sure I believe you… Well, at least this way you won’t be able to sleep even if you try.”

Every inch of my rectum had grown sensitive to the three fingers now wriggling around inside, and it was obvious it would take more than mere ejaculation to truly satisfy my urges.

“Aah… Hurry…!”

“I hear you, I hear you.”

The “starts out resistant, ends up begging for it” trope was all too common, and yet I still hadn’t found a countermeasure. Funny, that.

“Hang in there for a little longer.”

This is your fault, you know! You think you can buy my forgiveness with one measly kiss?! And yet I closed my eyes and let it happen anyway. (In more ways than one.)

“Aah…aaahh!”

Then I felt an intense heat enter my bowels. Instantly, sirens blared in my brain. But my entrance had since learned how to accommodate guests, and once it took in the widest part, my fear transmutated into ecstasy.

“Mmm… You feel so good…”

“Nngh…hhh…aah…gah…aaahh…!”

Once Ushio was all the way in, he leaned in close enough for me to finally wrap my arms around him and trail my fingers up and down his back. It was November, and yet he was sweating buckets. His excess lust for me was spilling over. And I wanted nothing more than to lick it all up.

“Aah! Aah…aah…nngh…Ushio—!”

Fortunately, at the pace we were going, I could still think clearly.

“I see now,” Ushio murmured cryptically. “Hmmm…I’m gonna have to disagree.”

“Aah… What are you…talking about…?”

“You know when you said grown men can’t jump for joy? I think you might be wrong about that. Because I’m looking at one right now.” He prodded my cheeks with a teasing grin, and I felt the blood rush to my head all the more.

“I am not jumping for joy! Screw you!”

“Why yes, I am screwing you.”

“Shut the fuck up, you sick freak!”

“Now, now. Settle down, cutie.”

“I said shut the—aah! Gah!”

“I thought you said you wanted to cum.”

“Aah…gah…haah…!”

He ravaged me so hard, the snarky thoughts in my head melted away before I could voice them. And after that, I moaned and writhed to Ushio’s heart’s content.

 

***

 

That asshole. Claims he wants something “to tide him over” and then he makes me go a second round. I sat in the news van on the drive to our morning film location, quietly biting back yawn after yawn—

“Oh man, I’m so nervous! This is my first time doing street interviews, y’know!”

—plus any caustic comments regarding my excessively energetic junior anchor.

“Any tips, Kunieda-san?”

God, I wish I could stuff this mic down your throat.

“I can’t think of anything in particular,” I mused, donning my best pensive face. “You’ll want to make sure you get an even spread of all different age groups and genders. Plus, you’ll want to avoid anyone who looks like they’re in a hurry. Oh, and don’t try to steer the conversation—you want them to answer in their own words, even if it takes them a while. But the best advice I can give is to have confidence in yourself. Knowing you, Minagawa-kun, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Really? You think so?”

No, I’m just being polite, stupid. Don’t take everything at face value. A little insecurity is healthy. Swallowing my venom, I smiled softly. “Good luck.”

That said, street interviews could be quite the challenge. Topic of the day: the government’s public pension plan investment management. We each had a quota of fifty people to interview, trawling for comments we could compile into a video segment. More than once, people would spot our cameras at a distance and immediately turn on their heel or cross the street to avoid us; other times we’d set our sights on someone, only for them to quicken their pace and stare pointedly at the sidewalk. This was all very common; in fact, I’d heard stories of rookie anchors so disheartened by the constant rejection that they’d throw in the towel and trudge back to the van. Amateurs, all of them.

Meanwhile, I achieved my quota of fifty people in approximately two hours, breaks included.

“Incredible work, Kunieda. You always seem to get the best footage… I wish street interviews were always this easy,” sighed the location manager.

Pretty great, aren’t I? “I simply lucked out and found a lot of nice people this time around,” I replied modestly.

“You know, I think you could make a great luxury car salesman. Or a real estate agent—oh, sorry. Gotta take this.” He answered his cell phone. “Yeah? Seriously? Whoa…” Then he turned back to me. “Apparently Tatsuki just finished his quota, too.”

“Huh?”

“He’s pretty good at this stuff, too! Very quick learner, that one. Plus, he’s just got this magnetic charm, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, yes. Very impressive,” I replied, looking mildly surprised…but on the inside, I was frothing with rage. Damn that little twerp!

 

***

 

That night found me cursing Tatsuki’s name once again. And once again, Ushio didn’t quite approve.

“Wouldn’t it piss you off more if he didn’t take your advice and just screwed everything up?”

“That’s not the problem, okay? It just drives me insane how he struts around like he can do it all without even trying.”

“So basically you feel threatened by him.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have to put on an act, so you resent anyone who can win affection by being themselves while also being good at their job.”

“That’s not true! Why the hell would I feel threatened by him?!”

“You never know—he might be busting his ass behind the scenes, or maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. Although I doubt anyone could be as fake as you.”

“Don’t call me fake!”

“Hey now, don’t get me wrong. It’s part of what I love about you.”

Warn me before you drop the L word, damn it! I froze, speechless.

“Anyway, I need to go make a phone call,” he continued, then got up and headed downstairs. A moment later, I could hear him speaking a different language—English, probably. I didn’t even know he had contacts outside of Japan.

While it pissed me off that he would leave me hanging in the middle of our conversation, the intermission gave me time to compose myself as I ruminated on his viewpoint.

Threatened. Resentment. In other words, I was…jealous? No. No way in hell. Never had I felt some deep desire to mingle with my coworkers—I wasn’t the type. And though admittedly Tatsuki was reasonably competent and quick on the uptake, I was confident I was the better anchor. Objectively.

Tatsuki’s voice was on the higher side, his intonation was iffy, and whenever his focus slipped he would speak too quickly. While he was good-looking, he let too much of his natural energy shine through; this was all well and good for a sports anchor, of course, but he could never host a full-scale news show on his own. He lacked the gravitas required to speak about tragedy. In summation, he simply couldn’t compete with anchors in my bracket—otherwise he wouldn’t have made it onto my show at all. As much as I hated everyone blowing smoke up his ass all the time, I never actually felt endangered by his presence.

Yeah, that’s it. I just don’t gel with chatty airheads, that’s all.

Shortly after I reached this conclusion, Ushio returned.

“You know what I think? I think you should let me meet this guy,” he said.

“What?”

“Minagawa-kun. You sure love to scream about him every night, so now I’m curious what he’s like.”

“Hell no. Anything but that.”

“How else am I gonna find out if he’s as bad as you make him sound?”

“Absolutely not,” I insisted, but he ignored me.

“Fine, then I’ll just ask Shitara-san,” he replied with a smirk as he crawled back onto the bed, and I knew at once that he was dead serious.

“Stop! I mean it!”

“I promise I won’t make it weird. I won’t even bring up Kunieda-san.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about!”

“Wow. Glad to know you trust me so much.”

The conversation hit a snag yet again. Frustrated, I slammed my fist on the mattress. “Don’t you dare!”

“Why not? I just wanna grab lunch with the guy. Who knows, maybe I won’t like him either! But I won’t know unless I try!”

“But what if you do like him…?”

“Then I’ve made a new friend, I guess.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to make friends with him, stupid! It stresses me out enough just having to work with him—I refuse to let him infiltrate my personal life! Think about it: you were stupid enough to fall for my little act, weren’t you? Plus, you don’t exactly take things slow when it comes to—”

“Kei.”

He hardly ever called my name unless we were going at it—something I was guilty of as well—so it caught me off guard and made my heart skip a beat. Being good at talking and being good at arguing were two very different skillsets.

Then he turned to me and said, in his most “disapproving parent” voice, “If you’re going to be jealous, be cuter about it, okay?”

“What?!”

“Tell me you don’t want to share me, and I’ll reconsider.”

“You sure are full of yourself, aren’t you? Get bent! Go to hell!”

“Oh, sorry. Getting another call.”

And with that, he headed back downstairs. But this time, evidently there was a lot to talk about, because he didn’t come back for a long, long time.

 

***

 

Ultimately, despite my begging and pleading, Ushio went straight to Shitara and got him to arrange a meeting with Tatsuki. He told me I didn’t have to come, to which I said, “Hah! I don’t think so, asshole!”

Not that I was worried about the things he seemed to think I was worried about (because, for the record, I was way hotter than that douche). I just didn’t want to have to see him getting all buddy-buddy with my least favorite person. Was that really so hard to understand? Jackass. Maybe he puts all his compassion into his projects and doesn’t save any for the rest of us. Try to be a little more like me, would you?

“Whoa… I didn’t realize the guy who made our title sequence was so young!” said the source of my problems, his tone chipper. “Real talk, I was expecting some geeky old geezer or something.”

“It actually takes a lot of physical stamina, y’know, putting together all those huge sets and whatnot,” Ushio replied.

“Yeah? How long does it take to make, like, one single second of animation?”

“It depends, but I’d say on average it takes about eight hours.”

“No way! Seriously?! I could never do that!”

“I see you’re almost finished with your drink. Can I get you another?”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll take an oolong highball.”

I couldn’t tell if they actually liked each other, but they were certainly keeping the conversation going. Tatsuki was a total social butterfly, and Ushio himself was more outgoing than his nerdy hobby would suggest. This is exactly what I was afraid of, I thought to myself miserably.

But although Ushio should have known full well how I was feeling on the inside, he instead asked the world’s most unnecessary question: “Minagawa-kun, what’s your impression of Kunieda-san?”

“Kunieda-san? He’s a god among men! A living legend! Seriously, the guy’s incredible. He can pronounce anything—any prefecture, any rail line, any street! You name it, he’s got it memorized! And he never lets anything get under his skin!”

“Oh, I’m not quite that perfect.” Damn right I am. Glad you’ve noticed. This bolstered my mood by a fraction. Still, the compliments felt cheap coming from a guy like him.

“Y’know, I used to think you were some kinda flawless wizard who could do anything, but now I know better. You’re always studying, aren’t you, Kunieda-san? While the rest of us are sitting around eating chips, you’re always reading the newspaper or looking stuff up in your intonation dictionary.”

“If anyone’s a ‘flawless wizard,’ it’s you, Minagawa-kun.”

“What, you think I don’t actually try? Well, think again! I put in a decent amount of effort, if you ask me. Once I found out I was gonna be on a news show, I figured I should do some research, so I bought all of Ikegami Akira’s books on journalism!”

“And how many did you read?” asked Shitara.

“Half…of the first one…”

“Right. And that’s a ‘decent effort’ to you?”

“Aww, c’mon, Shitara-san! You told me to just be myself, remember? Because Asou-san and Kunieda-san will cover for my mistakes?”

Gee, thanks for volunteering me!

“Only because you were throwing a fit about it!”

“To be fair, Shitara-san, you have a way of dragging people into things against their will,” Ushio laughed, but I found I couldn’t really laugh along with him. If you asked me, I wasn’t “dragged” so much as harpooned. “When you decide you want to work with someone, you make it happen no matter what. You’re a producer through and through.”

“For the record, I do make an effort to follow up with people, y’know. Wouldn’t want to force them into anything. That reminds me—Kunieda, weren’t you the one who interviewed Minagawa?”

Ugh, this conversation keeps getting worse and worse.

“Coincidentally, yes. As it happened, I was assigned to facilitate the secondary interviews for that round. And out of everyone I spoke to, I remember Minagawa-kun was the only one who turned up in jeans. I was quite surprised, to say the least.”

“Was that part of your plan? To stand out from the crowd?” Ushio asked Tatsuki.

“No way!” he replied emphatically. “It said to wear casual clothes right there in the e-mail! But to be honest, I only went because me and a friend were applying together for fun, so I didn’t put too much thought into it at the time.”

“Oops, I got the part instead of my friend!” Who do you think you are, a pop star? I thought to myself bitterly, smiling as I picked at my seafood stew. But then they brought up an even worse memory:

“I heard you hit on Kunieda during that interview. Is that true?” asked Shitara.

“Oh yeah… Yeah, that definitely happened.”

You’re supposed to deny it, dumbass!

“It was part of the test,” I added quickly, though not so quick as to appear hasty. “The interview process for the newsroom always includes a few quirky little tests. In this case, we asked each person to compliment the interviewer for one solid minute.”

More than anything, I wanted Ushio to understand that I was only doing my job.

“Right, right. Or the thing where they have to come up with ways to sell an entire truckload of bananas within a single hour.”

“And that’s when you hit on him?” Ushio asked Tatsuki.

“Ha ha! Yeah…I was so naïve and foolish back then…”

I told you to deny it, you moron!

“I walked up to him and I was like…”

Out of nowhere, Tatsuki reached over and took my hand; meanwhile, I barely suppressed the urge to yank it back. I was trapped on one end of a small four-person table, my seat up against the wall, so I had no room to lean away. Then he drew his face close to mine, his expression firm.

“‘You captivated me from the moment I walked in. You’re not like the rest of them—you truly shine.’ Or something like that, anyway.”

Just like that, he dropped my hand and went back to being regular old Tatsuki.

What are you, a wild animal? I can never get a read on you. His personality type was Kryptonite to someone like me, who was constantly on guard…which is why, when given the opportunity, I voted against him in the final hiring discussion. Nevertheless, somehow I knew he would make it through despite my protests. Setting aside his sloppy attire, he had the makings of a TV personality written all over him. Plus, he never once recoiled from the interview tests, which took a certain kind of guts…and to top it off, his ad-lib “compliment” segment lasted a perfect sixty seconds.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that interview! I bet even Kunieda got a little flustered when that happened, am I right?” Shitara asked.

“Nope. Not at all,” Tatsuki replied, shaking his head. “He just smiled and said, ‘Thank you. Next!’ and I was like ‘Holy crap, newscasters are so badass!’ Anyway, what do you guys wanna make with the last of the hotpot broth? Rice soup, ramen, or udon? I vote ramen!”

“Listen here, punk,” Shitara grinned wryly. “When you have hotpot at a business meeting, it’s considered polite to let your superiors make that call.”

“Oh. My bad. Sorry.”

But no one was actually mad at him, of course, and so he got his wish. It must take some kind of talent to wrap the whole world around your little finger like that, I thought to myself. Admittedly ramen was my top choice as well, but it was always miserable trying to eat food I loved while simultaneously maintaining my pristine persona. Nine times out of ten, I would rather just eat cup noodles at home with Ushio.

Tatsuki poured the dry, curly noodles into the seafood broth, then turned to Ushio. “So, are you good friends with Kunieda-san?”

My heart skipped a beat. I glanced up at Ushio across the table from me.

“No, not at all,” he replied without missing a beat. “We met through an interview he conducted at my house a while back. Hadn’t talked to him in a while, so I figured I’d ask Shitara-san to set something up. Oh, but we live in the same neighborhood, so we bump into each other on the street every now and then.”

“Oh, man! Y’know, I’ve always wondered what Kunieda-san does in his free time! He’s such an enigma, y’know? I keep inviting him to hang out, but he always turns me down!”

“I’m just not hugely into mixers.”

“I’ve invited you to more than just mixers! The past month and a half, I’ve asked you to karaoke, bowling, futsal, company baseball…”

“Oh, you’re right,” I replied politely.

But I could feel my flawless smile slowly starting to slip.

 

***

 

Outside the restaurant, we all went our separate ways.

“Since we’re headed in the same direction anyway, would you care to share a taxi?” I asked Ushio in my Kunieda Kei voice.

Initially he looked startled. Then he glanced down at the ground. “Sure, that’d be great,” he replied politely, as though I was a stranger.

Together, we walked down the street to find a place where we could flag a cab. As we did, I glanced over my shoulder repeatedly. Once I confirmed we’d put some distance between ourselves and the other two, I turned to him and hissed, “What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“You made it sound like we hardly ever interact!”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell him you come over my house every day, now could I?”

I could hear the hurt in his voice, and my full belly grew heavier.

“I mean, true, but…you still should’ve told me ahead of time. That way I can keep my story straight.”

“Right.”

Normally he’d argue with me on purpose, then tease me when I got mad. This time, however, he was unusually quiet.

“I’ll remember that for next time…if there even is a next time.”

This didn’t make me feel better in the slightest; I couldn’t even bring myself to lord it over him with a “Good. You’d better.” I never meant to argue him into silence—after all, he’d made the right call. It was just, well…loath as I was to admit it…the way he so readily treated me like a stranger actually kind of stung. I just wanted him to reassure me that we were fine. Problem was, I didn’t know how to ask for it.

Instead, what I said was, “Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to meet him.”

“Yep.”

“So what did you think…?”

“I was impressed.” For some reason, he lengthened his stride until he was a step ahead of me. “Me, personally, I always felt super nervous around ‘Kunieda-san,’ but him? Perfectly relaxed. It blows me away how some people manage to be so open and casual without crossing the line into rude.”

“Maybe you don’t think it’s rude, but I sure do.”

“Do you?”

As I followed along behind him, I found myself wishing I could see the look on his face…and yet, though we were mere inches apart, for some reason my legs wouldn’t move any faster. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why.

“Oh, there’s a taxi.”

Sure enough, a cab pulled up to the curb, its vacancy light illuminated. The moment we climbed in, we returned to being perfect strangers, so we sat in silence. After Ushio gave the driver the address, he leaned against the window, closed his eyes, and fell still.

But as for me, I couldn’t bring myself to find out if he was actually asleep.

 

***

 

That weekend, after our get-together on Friday night, I was too busy to go to Ushio’s—I had a bunch of meetings scheduled since the film trip was wrapping up. Then, on Monday afternoon when I arrived at work, Tatsuki walked over.

“Kunieda-san! Thanks again for coming out on Friday!”

“Likewise.”

“By the way, are you free two days from now? In the morning?”

“Er…is this work-related?”

Chances were high this wasn’t another casual get-together if it was happening on a weekday, but still. If he invites me to go see a movie or something, I’m gonna tattle on him like he’s the damn No More Movie Thief.

“Uhhh…half and half, I guess? See, I haven’t spent my employee clothing allowance…”

Every six months, all anchors on staff were given a special allowance of 100,000 yen to ensure they had a personal wardrobe at the ready for times when the studio costume department couldn’t provide for them, such as during film trips. That said, the money was obviously meant to be put toward work clothes, and as a man, there wasn’t much I could really spend it on outside of suits and button-up shirts.

“And my boss chewed me out and told me I need to go spend it on something…”

To prevent misappropriation of funds, employees were obligated to submit receipts alongside photos of the items purchased.

“But the last time I tried, they told me the tie I bought was too tacky, so now I’m too scared to go by myself. That’s why I want you to help me, Kunieda-san.”

Why me, damn it? I grimaced internally, smiled externally. But before I could come up with a plausible excuse, Asou chimed in.

“Help him out for me, would you? If this idiot gets our clothing allowance revoked, I don’t know how I’ll ever face the next generation of Asabi newscasters. I know it’s a lot to ask, but just think of it like babysitting. You can come in late that day if you need to.”

And when the king of the newsroom asked for a favor, there was only one answer.

“Of course. Think nothing of it.”

 

***

 

Ugh, fuck my life. Why does he always have to bother me with this crap? I was so annoyed, I practically ripped the door off its hinges trying to get into Ushio’s house.

“What the…?”

I was planning to vent all my problems right then and there, but then I saw the big suitcase sitting near the entrance, and my momentum quickly petered out.

“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” called Ushio as he came down the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

“Uhh…” I faltered for a moment. “They’re making me babysit Minagawa while he goes clothes shopping.” I was originally planning to complain a lot more than that, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Oh yeah?” Ushio replied with a yawn. “Well, have fun.”

“I’m not going to ‘have fun’ and you know it!”

Slowly but surely, we were settling back into our usual rapport.

“Then why didn’t you say no?”

“Because I can’t! I’m not some freelancer like you! This shit is part of my job!”

“Then quit complaining and just get it over with. Isn’t being married to the job your whole life’s philosophy?”

Normally I enjoyed trading barbs with him, but today his comments seemed to cut a bit more deeply, and it made me want to change the subject. “What’s with the suitcase?”

“Oh yeah—I’m going to America for a bit to meet up with an industry contact of mine. His daughter’s getting married, and he wants me to help him put something together to play at the ceremony.”

“So it’s a paid gig?”

“Well…he said he’d let me stay at his house for free, so I didn’t really bother asking about compensation. But it might be a good networking opportunity, so I guess…half and half?”

You “guess”? I bristled internally. “Gee, must be nice to be able to take off whenever you feel like it! With my nine-to-five, I’m lucky if I get a three-day weekend more than twice a year,” I snarked, tapping the toe of my shoe against the suitcase.

Ushio furrowed his brow. “Excuse me? All the free health insurance and benefits you get, and you want to complain to me about time off? Go ahead—see what it’s like to be self-employed, I dare you. I’m sure plenty of clients would want to work with the Kunieda Kei.”

In a full-time position, I gave up certain freedoms in exchange for protection; compared to a freelancer, my job was far more secure. Obviously I understood that. And I’d seen Ushio busting his ass day and night to meet his deadlines. But surely he knew that I knew that, right? So why was he fighting me on every little thing? Not that I especially enjoyed it when he dodged the subject instead, but we couldn’t exactly maintain a conversation if he kept rebuffing every statement. Now it was starting to feel like all that dodging was precisely what kept our relationship peaceful in the first place.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the kind of guy who could back down from an argument once it started.

“Where was I when you made these travel plans, anyway? Why am I only just now finding out?”

“I didn’t have exact dates until recently—I want to say sometime last week? I was planning to tell you, but you didn’t show up at all last weekend.”

“You could have called or e-mailed me!”

“Says the guy who’s never once informed me of his plans in advance.”

“Well…!”

I started to say something like “You never told me to!” but quickly realized the same could be said of me, too. What is happening right now? I asked myself as my brain struggled to keep up. I came here to bitch about work, but instead he just blows me off for some random lady’s wedding? What did I ever do wrong? Nothing! I’m not the bad guy here!

“I’m going home,” I grumbled. “You can go ahead and have fun flying off to America or wherever. I hope you enjoy speaking broken English at your fancy little party with fancy little Ritz cracker hors d’oeuvres!”

“Right back at you,” Ushio called after me, leaning out through the front door before I could close it. “I hope you and Minagawa-kun have a nice little shopping trip together. Too bad I’ll never know what that’s like.”

 

***

 

After that, we cut off contact with each other completely, so I could only assume Ushio caught his flight as planned. Meanwhile, our most recent conversation replayed in my mind over and over and over, pissing me off all over again with each encore. But I would sooner die than let anyone find out Kunieda Kei was upset, so when the shopping trip with Tatsuki rolled around, I conducted myself more cheerfully than ever—encouraging him to try on clothes, offering advice, anything to get out of there as quickly as possible. In the end, after a quick look around the department store, we successfully acquired a number of suit jackets, slacks, button-up shirts, and ties.

“Seriously, thank you so much. You really saved my bacon!”

“Oh, I’m just glad I could help. I think you’ll look great in those.”

The lie felt slimy and bitter on my tongue, like that time I idiotically mistook foaming facial cleanser for toothpaste.

“Y’know what? Let’s get lunch somewhere—my treat. As thanks for all your help.”

“That’s a kind offer, but I imagine all the restaurants will be packed at this time of day. I’d rather get something at the staff cafeteria.”

We were already attracting enough attention as it was, standing around in public radiating our “TV personality” energy. The last thing I wanted to do was drag this yappy mutt into an enclosed space.

“Good point,” Tatsuki replied, backing down more quickly than I anticipated.

As we crossed the pedestrian bridge in the direction of the train station, a woman’s voice called from up ahead: “Minagawa-kun?”

Oh god, is it one of his fans? Kill me now. I should’ve offered to pay for a taxi.

But then Tatsuki replied with something I wasn’t expecting: “Oh, hey! Long time no see!”

As far as I could tell, this woman wasn’t in the industry—just an ordinary middle-aged woman. Was she a relative? A classmate’s mom?

“I know! I haven’t seen you here in ages!”

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy with my new show.”

“Oh, I bet! I’ll have you know I watch it every night! I can’t believe you made it onto Asou-san’s show… Wait, is that Kunieda-san with you?”

“Hello there,” I greeted her with a polite smile, masking my annoyance at being treated like an afterthought.

“Kunieda-san’s great, isn’t he? He’s always helping me out!”

“That’s because you have such magnetic charm, Minagawa-kun. I’m sure people flock to you wherever you go!”

“You think so? Woohoo!”

Has the concept of modesty ever even occurred to you?

“All right, you take care, now! Good luck at work!” the woman exclaimed, invading Tatsuki’s personal space with a clap on the shoulder. And with that, she disappeared into the distance.

“Someone you know?” I asked once she was gone—not because I actually cared, but because I figured that was what a normal person would ask in this situation.

“No, not at all. No idea who she is.”

“What?”

“Er, I mean, I only ‘know her’ in the sense that I’ve talked to her before. Basically, uh…she’d always say hi back when I used to stand around here a lot.”

“You…stood around?”

“Yeah.”

Doing what? Selling postcards with trite little aphorisms on them? Singing off-key at the top of his lungs?

“C’mere a sec.” He waved me over to the handrail and gestured down at the vast pedestrian crossing below. “See, I’d stand right here, look down over the edge of the bridge, and practice my live commentary. As soon as the light turned green, I’d go, ‘And they’re off! The man in the black leather jacket takes the lead! But the group of middle-aged businessmen are closing in—yes! They’ve cut ahead!’ Y’know, stuff like that. And that lady from earlier? Yeah, she originally thought I was planning to jump off. Came up to me and told me not to do it. I must’ve looked pretty crazy standing here muttering to myself, huh?”

“Oh…er…” I was genuinely at a loss for words. “So you came here and practiced every day?”

“Yeah, just about. I admit I lucked into the job with Asabi, but whenever I thought about what I wanted to do with my future, I always thought, well, I like sports, so maybe I could be a commentator.”

He peered over the rail and smiled fondly at the people walking below.

“I’d come here whenever I had free time, but on weekends I’d go to the horse track or the ballpark or the soccer stadium—anywhere I could practice my commentary—and when I got home I’d turn on the TV or the radio and compare notes with the actual commentators. Then…I think it was in July? They told me I’d get my big professional debut in the fall, and I was so excited! But then later they said they wanted to put me on The News instead, and real talk, I was kinda against it. I just didn’t understand why, y’know? My boss kept saying, ‘This is a huge opportunity for you! You’ll be famous!’ and I was like, ‘I never asked for this!’ Y’know?”

So this is what Shitara meant when he said Tatsuki “threw a fit.”

Meanwhile, Tatsuki noticed his hand was grimy with rust from the handrail. He drew it to his nose. “Smells like metal.”

What are you, a child? On second thought, yes, you are. You’re my polar opposite—you have absolutely no filter. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I have a decent amount of fun doing my current job, so in the end, it all worked out. Plus, I’m learning a lot. And I got to make friends with you.”

We are not friends, thank you very much. “Glad to hear you’re having fun,” I replied vaguely…but on the inside, I was pissed. I wanted Tatsuki to be a carefree idiot with just enough sense to help him skate by. I didn’t want to learn anything about the real him. But now it was looking like Ushio was right.

You never know—he might be busting his ass behind the scenes, or maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

“Let’s get going, Kunieda-san.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I got a bit lost in thought.”

“By the way—that stuff I said during the interview? I wasn’t joking around.”

“Huh?”

It was the first time I’d ever seen the real Tatsuki behind his “lovable puppydog” persona, and the look in his eye was uncharacteristically intense.

“When I walked into that room, I was completely blown away. I’d met other TV personalities in the past, but you? How do I put it—you have this incredible presence about you. It’s like…being seen is your job, and you’re fully committed. I was starstruck.”

“I think you’re giving me a little too much credit,” I replied. This was my go-to line when I needed to dodge a compliment. But, like any good hunting dog, Tatsuki blocked my escape, circling in front of my averted gaze. His vigilant attention was discomforting.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“What?”

“You haven’t seemed like yourself today. I get the sense that you’re kinda…forcing it? Not that that was gonna stop me from bringing you, obviously, but…”

“No… I’m fine.”

Here I was, with my “perfect smile” output cranked up to 120 percent, and yet somehow he had seen right through me. To me, this discrepancy was a fatal error…and yet I decided to blame it on Ushio instead. This is your fault, got it?!

Meanwhile, externally, I conducted myself with the utmost grace.

“Thank you for your concern.”

 

***

 

When we returned to the newsroom, a handful of people rushed over to find out if Tatsuki had successfully acquired his new clothes.

Is this guy made of honey or something? Shoo, flies. This isn’t some backwater town—surely you all have better things to do than hang on this kid’s every word.

“Yep, I’m all set! Thanks for asking!”

“Show us!”

“They’re getting tailored right now, so I can’t bring them in until tomorrow.”

“I told you I was more than happy to tag along! Why’d you have to drag poor Kunieda-kun with you? He’s a busy guy, you know!”

Damn right I am.

But as I slowly slipped away from the crowd, the next thing Tatsuki said stopped me dead in my tracks.

“You were just complaining to me about how jealous your boyfriend gets, remember? I don’t want him to beat my ass for hanging out with you!”

Jealous… Hanging out…

I hope you and Minagawa-kun have a nice little shopping trip together. Too bad I’ll never know what that’s like.

I could feel a gasp welling up in my throat, so I snuck away to the fire escape.

Prior to now, I’d never given much thought to Ushio’s last words—I was too pissed off about the rest of the conversation to care—but now it all clicked. What, we’ve never gone shopping together? That can’t be right. I mobilized the full extent of my photographic memory and…sure enough, we hadn’t. On weekdays I’d come over late at night, pass out, and leave in the morning; on weekends, well…again, I mostly slept. But he’d never complained about it, so I never knew he was dissatisfied.

You should’ve just told me. Sure, I might not want to strut around town in my Kunieda Kei persona, but I wouldn’t mind swinging by the neighborhood izakaya or something. I’m not that heartless. Which is exactly why I was so hung up on this issue to begin with. I couldn’t believe a guy as blunt and upfront as Ushio would bottle up his resentment until it exploded. Was he trying to put my needs first, since he knew being in public wore me out? Exactly how much was he tolerating in self-sacrificial silence?

Unfortunately, these extremely valid concerns were ultimately drowned out as I basked in the sweet bliss offered to me by the concept of Ushio’s jealousy. Instantly my bad mood was gone. If anything, I’d have to fight to keep a smile off my face at this point.

He’s jealous? Of Minagawa? That grouchy look on his face was all because he was jealous? What an imbecile. If I’d known he felt that way, I would’ve at least tried to make him feel better… Damn it, now I’m grinning like an idiot!

I kneaded my face like clay, desperate to get it back into its usual “Kunieda Kei” shape. I still had the whole day ahead of me; the fun part was yet to come. But when I stepped back into the hallway, I bumped into Tatsuki.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, startled.

Then he began to scrutinize my face, and I panicked internally, wondering if I’d failed to put it back to normal.

“You’re looking a lot better now! Glad to see it.”

The hell do you want with me, anyway?

 

***

 

I stepped inside Ushio’s empty house. The heater was off, but I wasn’t cold—my heart was pumping hard as I imagined the revenge I was about to exact. He must’ve left in a hurry, because the bed was a mess; his short-sleeved pajama shirt lay discarded on top of the rumpled bedspread. Now that it was nearly winter, you’d think he’d wear something with long sleeves instead, but no. Instead he’d cling to me for extra warmth, and I’d—never mind. Don’t get distracted.

Ignoring the shirt, I flopped down onto the bed, took out my cell phone, and dialed Ushio’s number. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the time difference, either—I was going to let it ring until he answered it.

“Hello?” Ushio answered offhandedly. Dumbass.

Then I hit him with the line I’d been preparing all day: “If you’re going to be jealous, be cuter about it.”

How’d ya like that? Sucks to have your words thrown right back in your face, doesn’t it? So what’ll it be—will you play dumb? Get mad? Maybe even get embarrassed for a change? Wait…I won’t be able to see his face over the phone. Damn it.

Instead, all I got was a monotone, “Oh, I see. You finally put two and two together, huh? You must be really slow on the uptake.”

“What?!”

“Not only that, but you actually called me up to rub it in my face? You truly are stupid. Not that I wasn’t already aware, of course, but good god. Absolutely clueless.”

Dumbfounded, I blinked, and just like that, my plan to dunk on him went out the window. What the hell? I thought I had the upper hand here. How did he turn the tables?

“But at least you bothered calling at all, so I guess I’ll forgive you.”

“Excuse me?!” My mind went white, and the blood rushed to my head. “Give me a freakin’ break! I don’t need your forgiveness, okay? I just—”

“I know, I know. You were just so overjoyed at the thought of me getting jealous that you couldn’t help but try to rub it in.”

“No!”

I flailed around on Ushio’s giant bed, making good use of the excess space. Then it occurred to me that I could just hang up on him, so I pulled the phone away from my ear—but just then, with eerily perfect timing, I heard him say, “Don’t you hang up on me.”

“Do you have spy cameras in here or something?!”

“Huh? Oh, are you at my house? Awesome. Could you do me a solid and throw out that moldy old ham for me?”

“Do it yourself!”

“Now, now, let’s both settle down and talk.”

“What about my phone bill?”

“It’s fine. I’ll pay for it.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, yes, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, he knew full well I didn’t actually give a damn about the international calling rate.

His usual teasing smile came to mind so vividly, it was like he was already home again. It drove me up the wall, and yet at the same time, I sorely felt its absence. Not that I would ever admit it.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

I snorted. “Dude, it’s only been two days.”

“Okay then, uh…do you miss me?”

“Did you freaking listen to a word I just said?”

“Okay, well, I miss you.”

Oh really now, I thought sardonically. Says the guy who’ll leave town for some wedding that isn’t even technically work-related? You know, I forgot just how many people seem to gravitate to you. Me personally, I never needed anyone, but now I have you, and now I need you, and it’s your fault, so man the hell up and make it right, dipshit! You probably don’t even mean a word of it!

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying.”

I hated the fact that the mere suggestion of a smile on his end made me feel better.

“Are you still sulking?” he asked.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Then why don’t we have a nice friendly chat?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are you wearing?”

“What…?” I was wearing my hobo disguise, obviously. Generally speaking, when it came to my off-hours, I always wore variations of the same generic store-brand tracksuit. “You know, the usual.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Then don’t ask!”

“Oh, cool your jets. Okay then, where are you right now?”

“Like I said, I’m at your house… Are you jet-lagged or something? I’m gonna hang up.”

“Don’t you dare,” he shot back in a less-than-commanding voice. “You’re so dense,” he muttered under his breath—but still loud enough for me to catch it.

“Hey!”

“Are you on the second floor? In my bed? I bet you are.”

“I told you—” Don’t ask me questions you already know the answer to! But before I could get the words out, I was interrupted by a confusing order:

“Touch it.”

“Huh?”

Glancing around, I pressed my hand against the wall experimentally. Was there some kind of hidden compartment with treasure inside? But no matter how I tapped the walls, floor, or bedframe, nothing seemed to happen. What I thought was a simple (if aggressive) command was now a total mystery.

“Touch what?” I asked, annoyed.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re so goddamn dense.”

“And you’re so goddamn vague!”

“I’m telling you to touch the thing you think I’d touch if I was there with you.”

“Huh…?”

Belatedly, I put two and two together. When he said a “friendly chat,” what he meant was—

“You…idiot!” I could feel all the blood in my body rushing to my head, to the point that I started to worry my phone might melt. “Are you literally an idiot?!”

“Didn’t you just answer that question for yourself?”

“Shut the hell up! You’re an idiot! And a sick freak!”

“How do you figure?” Ushio asked calmly. “Maybe it’d be kinky if we were in the same room, but long-distance phone sex is pretty normal, I feel like.”

He was so utterly unruffled that for a moment I was inclined to agree with him…but then I caught myself. “Like hell it is! Normal people don’t have phone sex while they’re staying at a friend’s house!”

“I’m upstairs alone. And unlike you, I don’t make a lot of noise, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I do not make noise in bed!”

And even if I did, whose fault do you think that would be?! In my line of work, my face and voice are my lifeline, and yet you never cut me a break, no matter what day of the week—gah! No! Don’t think about it!

“Besides,” Ushio continued in a casual tone, “if you really didn’t want to, you could always just hang up. Not like I can force you into it.”

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?

Now that this was pointed out to me, however, I couldn’t will myself to pull the phone away from my ear. My mind was too busy imagining the milky white fog my breath was leaving on my phone screen… Crazy to think that, right this moment, it was tickling Ushio’s ear from an entire ocean away.

“Now touch it,” he repeated. But this time his tone was entirely different.

“What part…?” I asked, like the biggest idiot ever.

Evidently this pleased him, somehow. “Any part,” he replied, the smile audible in his voice. “Whichever part you’d want me to touch…or a part you think I’d want to touch.”

“How should I know?”

“Oh, okay. You want me to spell it out for you that badly, hmm? You perv,” he teased me in an uncharacteristically sensual voice. My mind and tongue went dull, as if he had drizzled me in syrup. “This is embarrassing for me, too, y’know.”

As if. “You liar.”

“If anyone’s a liar, it’s you.”

“Shut the hell up.”

His breath rustled the invisible radio waves. I set my phone to speaker mode and set it on the pillow next to me. Then I lay down on my side facing the wall, slid my hand into the pocket of my tracksuit, and gingerly felt my package through the fabric. It was a lot warmer than I was expecting it to be.

“You touching it?” Ushio pressed, egging me on.

“Well…you…!”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the one who keeps begging me to do this… It’s not my fetish or anything… I’m just humoring you, that’s all…”

“Right. Of course,” he replied—actually validating me for a change. “It’s all my fault, and I’m the only one listening, so go ahead and have at it.”

Spurred on by his encouragement—or, should I say, led into temptation by his sweet whispers—I reached and ran my fingers back and forth along my shaft, aroused by a guy who wasn’t even in the room with me.

“Mm…”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t masturbated in a long time; with an active sex life, I never really felt the urge. It was strange to think I actually kind of missed the touch of my own hand… Fortunately, masturbating was like riding a bicycle—you never really forgot how to do it.

“Mmm…!”

“Where are you touching?”

“Not telling!”

“Then moan a little louder so I can hear you.”

“Excuse me?” I’m a little busy taking cues from something else right now, in case you haven’t noticed. How am I supposed to moan on command? “Quit bossing me around.”

“Hmmm…”

I could practically see him tilting his head in contemplation. Not that I especially wanted to keep doing this, but if he called the whole thing off just because I refused to take orders, I was going to be pissed.

What came next, however, was a voice so low and scratchy, it almost felt like a cat had licked my eardrum.

“Kei.”

I should have been used to him calling my name during sex, but somehow it sounded different over the phone…almost like it was another man speaking.

“Grab it and rub it real slow. Just three fingers is fine.”

“Excuse you…?”

“I said do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“There you go, lying again. Just keep rubbing it with three fingers. Once it gets hard, focus on the head. That’s what you like, right?”

“I said, I don’t want to—”

“You like it when I squeeze the head and start playing with the hole with my thumb, yeah? It gets you wet so fast. Makes you moan like crazy.”

“Stop!” I shook my head vigorously—I don’t wanna know about that!—and yet I didn’t reach over to end the call.

“Kei…”

His voice was sweet poison.

“Do it, Kei. I want to get off to your moans.”

His husky voice was interspersed with metallic clicks—probably the sound of him unbuckling his belt. The thought of him joining me kindled my smoldering desire until it caught fire.

“Aah…aah…!”

“There you go. See? I knew you could do it.”

Per his instructions, I caressed my cock the same way he always did. My body could vividly recall the sensation of his palm…the length of his fingers… It added a degree of separation between me and my member.

“Nnn…mm…aah!”

“Pace yourself, now. I know you’ll want to cum as fast as possible, but try to be patient.”

“Yeah, well…that’s your fault…!”

“No it isn’t.” The whisper was half amusement, half lust. “If anything, it’s your fault for making me want to torment you… Your face, your voice, your body… Filthy boy.”

“Shut up!”

As we argued, my motions continued, faithfully recreating Ushio’s preferred style of grip. Precum leaked from my tip and met my fingers; my slick strokes spread pleasure throughout my lower body, and I could tell without looking that my fluids were steadily shifting from clear to milky white.

“Gah…aah…aaahh…!”

“Man, technology is incredible. I can literally hear how wet you are.”

“Stop!”

“You gonna touch your nipples?”

This time it wasn’t a command, but a question—probably because he knew by this point I’d do whatever he suggested regardless. As my fully engorged shaft throbbed uncomfortably, I asked, “Whi…?”

“What was that?”

“I said…which one…?” My ear burned hot against the pillow.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Ushio snickered devilishly. “Whichever one you want, cutie.”

I obediently slid a hand under my shirt. No need to fumble around for it—it was standing at attention, just like the rest of me. This caught me off guard. At my touch, a tiny wave of pleasure rippled through me, like a drop in a bucket.

“Aah…mmm…!”

“Which one are you touching?”

“The left…”

“Oh, is that your favorite? I’ll have to remember that.”

I could have explained to him that it was simply the nipple my free hand had the easiest time reaching, but I was more focused on playing with myself.

“Aah! Aaahh!”

“How’s it feel?”

“Aah… It’s getting harder…!”

“Good. I wish I could pinch it.”

“Mmm…!”

The pleasure from this small yet firm protrusion mingled with that of my groin, pushing me to stroke faster than ever before.

“Aaahh…nnng…aah!”

“Kei…does it feel good?”

“Yeah…it’s good…!”

“You wanna touch your butt…?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I only let you do that!”

“Damn it…that almost made me cum.”

Judging from the sharp inhale of breath moments prior to that statement, I wagered he was being truthful.

“Aah…aah… I’m gonna cum…!”

My precum was flowing out so thickly, I couldn’t believe I had that much in me. Chills ran down my spine at the sheer viscosity. Meanwhile, I buried my face into Ushio’s discarded pajama shirt and breathed in his scent.

“Wanna cum together?”

“Yeah…!”

“Rub it as fast as you can.”

“Aaaahh! Aah…aah…Ushio…!”

As I applied friction to my length, I crushed my nipple between my fingers and traced circles around it—anything to heighten my pleasure. My heart pounded in my ears along with Ushio’s labored breathing.

“Kei…!”

“Aah!” My hips jerked upwards reflexively as my desire burst forth from the depths of my core, soiling my hand and underwear. “Haah…”

“Did you cum?”

“Yeah.” As my gasps slowed, so too did I come back to my senses. “Anyway, I’m gonna hang up now,” I announced as brusquely as possible.

“Let’s do this again sometime.”

“Like hell I will! From now on, I’m only talking to you through e-mail, so you better check your inbox!”

Once I said my piece, I hung up without waiting for his response. Then, after I got back from my shower, I found an e-mail waiting for me: What color are your boxers?

I flung my phone against the pillow.

Go to hell!

 

***

 

According to an e-mail I received from Ushio, he was scheduled to fly back home in about a week. Man, where do you find the time to send me all these e-mails? I rose from my seat and left my newsroom desk in search of a more private location. In the end, I found myself in the SCR for The News.

Monitors covered the wall in perfectly even rectangles, like a chocolate bar. Each of them had their own separate purpose, but right now they were all dark, and the chairs that normally held the SCR staff were neatly pushed in under the desk. The room was temperature-controlled to prevent overheating—both for the machines and the humans—but as a result, it was rather chilly when the machines were off. Shivering, I took out my phone.

“Oh, hey!” Ushio answered. “What’s up? Did you change your mind about phone sex?”

“No!”

My voice echoed loudly through the empty room. Eh, the SCR’s soundproof anyway, I figured. That, and we didn’t broadcast on Saturdays, so no one had any reason to come by…and even if they did, I’d hear the door mechanism beep with enough time to hang up the phone and make some excuse. That was my plan, anyway.

“Well, you’re doing such a good job e-mailing me constantly, I thought I’d call and let you know,” I said.

“Thanks! I try. Anyway, where are you? Your voice sounds echoey.”

“At work.”

“You didn’t get the day off?”

“Thanks to my incompetent director and his piss-poor managing, we had to reshoot some footage. Plus, I forgot to expense my business trip, so I had to get that sorted out.”

“Hard to believe the Kunieda Kei forgot something.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Is the loneliness getting to you?”

“As if! If anything, I bet you’re so homesick you’re crying yourself to sleep every night.”

“Ha ha! Yeah, totally.”

As we talked, I paced back and forth in front of the mixing board. “Well, since I’m in a generous mood,” I began, “I’m thinking maybe after you get home I could take you out sometime. You know, the next time I’m free.”

“Really?” Ushio asked, sounding surprised. “Like where?”

“I don’t know, the ramen place?”

“Restaurants don’t count! Meh, whatever. I’m holding you to that, got it? When I get back, we’re going on a date.”

“Good.” I let out a sigh as I hung up the phone. Date. Heh.

Just then, I heard a clattering sound somewhere within the sea of computer desks in the opposite corner of the room—the place where they design all the title cards and 3D graphics and whatnot.

The next few seconds played out in slow motion. A chair scooted away from its desk. And then someone crawled out from under said desk.

“Oh, hey… Nice to see you,” said Tatsuki.

Then the world returned to its normal speed and I realized I wasn’t dreaming.

 

***

 

“In case you were wondering what I was doing in here…”

I wasn’t, but whatever.

“I was trying to get concert tickets, y’know, the kind you can only get by calling in. And you know how some of the phones here have wireless priority or whatever it’s called where your call gets bumped up in the queue? Well, I asked around, and someone told me the phone in the SCR has it enabled, so I snuck in and gave it a try. Sure enough, I got through on the first try! Got my tickets and everything! So I was like ‘Hell yeah!’ But then I heard the door open, so I panicked and hid.”

I said nothing—just stood there and listened. Didn’t even nod along.

“So yeah, I got two tickets to see Mr. Children. Would you wanna come?”

Again, I didn’t respond. Instead, I slowly scanned the room.

“Looking for something?”

“A blunt weapon.”

“What?”

“So I can beat you to death.”

“Awww, c’mon! I don’t wanna die!”

“Cram it!”

My mind was a Molotov cocktail of panic and regret and shame, and Tatsuki’s derpy voice was the spark that set it off.

“AAARGH!” I clutched at my hair with both hands and ruffled it in frustration. I wanted nothing more than to transform into Godzilla and crush this entire building underfoot. “Why you? Why is it always you?! God, you piss me off, you obnoxious little gnat! Always hovering around me! If I had a Death Note right now, I would write your fucking name in it!”

Yes, you read that right—I had given up on any hope of smoothing things over as Kunieda Kei, so instead I screamed at him in my natural voice. Granted, just because he’d overheard my more dickish side didn’t mean he’d found out everything about my personal life…but now that he knew how two-faced I was, as far as I was concerned, it was game over. Fuck it. I’ll fly to America myself.

Tatsuki stared at me, his eyes round as saucers. “Holy crap,” he whispered. Then he burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha, oh my god! You’re a riot, Kunieda-san! A Death Note? My sides!”

He wasn’t trying to mock me—he genuinely found it funny. This confused me, since I was really expecting him to shout back, or at least flinch away. I furrowed my brow. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“I should ask the same of you!” he replied. Given what he’d witnessed, I couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a point.

“I…”

“Nah, I get it. Basically, you put on an act in public, right?”

I didn’t appreciate him writing off my diligent efforts as merely “putting on an act,” but nevertheless, I nodded reluctantly.

“Man, that’s crazy! But like, why would you even bother? Isn’t it tiring?”

“None of your business. I can live my life however I want.”

“Hey man, no judgment! Either way, you gotta do it when the cameras are rolling, right? Besides, I like both sides of you.”

“You haven’t even met both sides of me.”

“Mmm…I feel like I have, though.”

“Excuse me?” Don’t be ridiculous, you little shit.

“You know that interview story I talked about the other day? When I hit on you and you shrugged it off?”

“What about it?”

“You were smiling, but your eyes were just…cold. Empty. I was right up in your face, too, so I got a good look, and…man, I was scared for my life that day. Sent shivers down my spine,” he explained in a casual tone that didn’t sound scared in the least. “Like, it definitely got me wondering, but we never really talked, and no one ever had anything bad to say about you. To them, you’re the guy everyone wishes they were—you’re kind, you’re responsible, you’re good at your job… Which is good and all, but it started to make me think maybe it was all in my head, y’know? So when they put me on the same show as you, as much as I resisted at first, I decided it was a good opportunity to get to know you.”

“So that’s why you always hover around me?”

“Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t trying to investigate you or anything like that. I just sincerely wanted to get to know you better.”

I folded my arms and leaned against a nearby desk. “Well?”

“‘Well,’ what?”

“Uh, hello? You’ve seen right through me! Congratulations! I have a big, fake persona I wear every day! And you wanna know why I wear it? So people will kiss my ass! I love being everyone’s favorite! It’s never caused any problems for anyone, either! The end!”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

What are you, an alien? I wondered. In fact, I was half-inclined to believe he actually was. He didn’t seem to understand a single word I was saying.

“So anyway, who was that on the phone just now?”

“None of your business.”

“Was it Tsuzuki-san?”

“What?!”

This was number two on my short list of subjects I never wanted to discuss with anyone, and I found myself once again tempted to kill him.

“You got a hidden camera or a bug in here?! Huh?!”

“No, I don’t! It was half guesswork, I swear!”

“Then where did the other half come from? You’ve only met him once!”

“Mmmm…” Tatsuki folded his arms as if to mirror me, then stared up at the darkened monitors. “You remember I told you about my commentary practice? It’s weird—after all the people watching I’ve done, I’ve gotten real good at noticing stuff. Even when they’re just innocently crossing the street, I can tell stuff like, ‘Oh hey, that guy’s in a good mood,’ or ‘That couple’s in the middle of a fight right now.’ I guess it’s a skill I’ve developed? Not to brag or anything. But yeah, after we had dinner together that one night, you and Tsuzuki-san walked off together, right?”

“We live in the same neighborhood, so I offered to share a taxi, that’s all.”

“Okay, but still… Not that you guys were walking arm in arm or anything, but I got a vibe that you were more than just casual acquaintances…which would mean that you pretended to barely know each other on purpose…which would mean you have something to hide.”

It was then that I realized I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Tatsuki’s instincts about me were right on the money—as were my instincts warning me to avoid him. That was a red flag I never should have ignored, and now I was paying the price. He knew everything…and I needed to do something fast…but instead my brain just kept screaming, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK without actually attempting to brainstorm anything. Where’s Ushio when I need him most?

“You guys are an item, aren’t you? Judging from the phone call, anyway.”

“You think you’re some kind of investigative journalist? Is that it?”

“Who, me? No way,” he replied, staring back at me blankly.

Honestly, I deserved an award for somehow not punching his stupid puppy face.

“I’m really not some kinda master of observation. I only figured it out because I pay a lot of attention to you on the regular.”

“Wow. Creepy and pathetic.”

At that point in time, I no longer had the option of asking him to keep quiet; I’d rather die.

“Ouch! That was harsh, man. Can you cut me a break? I’m already struggling with this as it is.”

“Oh, you think you’re struggling?”

“Dude, not only did I just find out you have a boyfriend, I overheard you being all lovey-dovey on the phone with him!”

“I was not being ‘lovey-dovey’!”

“Ugh, and now you’re blushing… I don’t suppose you plan to dump him anytime soon, do you?”

“The hell are you talking about…?”

“If not, that’s okay too. I enjoy the chase.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you enjoy!”

“That right there? That vitriol? Ooh, it makes me shiver. There’s something special about getting perfect, princely Kunieda-san to cuss me out.”

“Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Sometimes you can be really dense… Don’t worry—I love you anyway.”

 

***

 

First I self-destructed, and then Tatsuki dropped a bomb of his own. At this point I had nothing left to lose, so I donned a cheerful smile and announced, with all the sincerity I could muster: “I hope you die and go to hell. And when you get there, I hope you die again.”

“Whoa. No one’s ever responded to my ‘I love you’ with ‘go to hell’ before.”

“Are you trying to screw with me?”

“As long as you consent, yes please!”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you? This is what I can’t stand about you. Why would you choose this very moment to profess your feelings? You think anyone’s gonna take you seriously? Besides, everyone at Asabi knows you’re a total mixer fiend.”

“I just like meeting people outside of our industry! Only reason I go is to chat. If you want me to stop, I will.”

“Dude, I don’t care what you do! It’s none of my business! My point is, don’t joke about that crap. It’s not funny, asshole.”

“You really think I would joke about this?”

He pouted his lips in protest. Then his expression shifted to the same intense look I saw on the pedestrian bridge.

“You remember I told you I wasn’t joking around during my interview?”

I fell silent. My fingers tightened around my bicep.

“Right from the very moment I first met you, you’ve been all I can think about. No one else has ever made me feel this way, Kunieda-san. At first I kinda hesitated, what with you being a guy and all, but after hearing that phone call…I mean, obviously it was crushing in a way, but…I figure if you can swing that way for Tsuzuki-san, then maybe I have a shot, too.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Huh? How come? …Oh, sorry!” His phone started to beep in his pocket. He pulled it out and turned off the alarm. “I forgot I have a voiceover recording starting at two. I gotta go!”

And so he hurried out of the room, leaving our conflict unresolved. (Not that there was really any way to resolve it.) Left alone in the SCR, I unfolded my arms, held up a hand, and started to count:

Okay, so…he found out about the real me…he found out about me and Ushio…and then he confessed his feelings to me…

I stared down at my three curled fingers for a moment, then tilted my head up and screamed at the top of my lungs:

“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!”

Error! Does not compute! Someone get me out of here!

 

***

 

Part of me was tempted to call Ushio back right away, but I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out. So instead I went home, locked all my doors and windows (including the balcony), then dialed his number.

“What do you want?”

“The cat’s out of the bag.”

It was the only way I could think to describe it. Meanwhile, the one remaining functional part of my brain noted that I was evidently still pretty shaken up.

“What? What do you mean?”

“All my secrets! Everything! Fuck it—I’m gonna catch a red-eye flight to wherever you are. I’ll live there and eat hamburgers and…I don’t know! Whatever fried foods they have!”

“They have a lot of fried foods here, so you’ll have to be more specific. Look, just calm down and tell me what happened, would you?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“I won’t know until you tell me… All right, fine. I promise I won’t get mad. Now out with it.”

So I told him everything that had happened back in the SCR. Naturally, this included the part where Tatsuki confessed his love to me.

Ushio fell silent for a moment. “So, what are you gonna do?” he asked casually.

Don’t you care?! I fumed internally. “How should I know?!”

But Ushio didn’t miss a beat. “Be honest with me,” he replied calmly. “How do you actually feel about him?”

“Excuse me?” Unfortunately, I was in no condition to smirk to myself about his jealousy this time around. “This shit again?” I adjusted my grip on my phone. “Look, I don’t give a shit about him. Can’t you tell?”

“No, I can’t tell. That’s why I asked.”

What, are you blind?

There I was, standing around awkwardly in my own house as though I wasn’t sure where I was allowed to sit.

“If you actually didn’t care about Minagawa, you wouldn’t complain about him every day,” Ushio insisted. “You’d just shrug him off and forget about him. The second I met him, I knew: he’s not like the others—he’s the kind of guy who’d pursue you. Aggressively. And I knew you’d noticed—you just didn’t know how to handle it.”

Of course I’d noticed. Normally I could weasel out of any unwanted invitations by smiling awkwardly and letting the other person take the hint, but Tatsuki? Tatsuki didn’t get hints. He barreled through them at a hundred miles an hour.

“That’s…stupid.”

That was the most I could say. I knew I needed to deny any interest in Tatsuki…but over the phone, I wasn’t confident I had the persuasive ability to make it stick. I couldn’t will myself to find the words. Besides, Ushio knew me better than anyone—maybe he was right about me.

“I’ve been wondering what to do about it, actually. I could tell right away that Minagawa was into you, but even if I forbade you from talking about him, I’d still get paranoid… Plus, not like I can ban you from ever talking to someone at your job… Hey, Kei?”

At the sound of my name, I braced myself. “Yeah?”

“I told you I love both sides of you. That it keeps things interesting. And I still feel that way. But…he probably feels that way about you, too. So how are you going to react?”

The other me—the real me—was once a secret that only my parents knew. Then Ushio found out. And now it had spread even further.

“To be honest, I thought I was safe. That no one else would ever find out about the real you. But Minagawa has, and now he’s standing on the same playing field as me.”

“I told you, I shot him down.”

“And did he take no for an answer?”

“I…don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He let out a hollow laugh; it was the first time he’d ever scoffed at me. “Seriously, man, think about it. What if he tells you he’ll only keep quiet if you agree to date him?”

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.”

Oops. I meant it more like “it didn’t occur to me that he might try that”—I couldn’t picture Tatsuki ever resorting to underhanded means—but it came out sounding an awful lot like I thought it was a good idea.

Naturally, Ushio was pissed. “Excuse me? What, are you going to suggest it to him yourself?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“You can be so careless, you know that? You think you’re smart, but you can be a real idiot. Sometimes you don’t think critically at all.”

“You promised you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should promise not to be an asshole!”

Pot, meet kettle! I couldn’t bring myself to back down. “This all happened because you keep e-mailing me.”

“You’re the one who told me to e-mail you!”

“Ugh, forget it! You’re useless! You’re not helping me solve this—you’re just making me feel worse! Don’t even bother coming back to Japan!”

The instant I said it, I knew I had gone too far—but it was too late.

“Fine,” he replied in an icy voice. “I won’t.” And then the call went silent.

My hand lowered back to my side, still clutching my leaden phone. I couldn’t even find the energy to scream. I was an asshole, all right—I should’ve told Ushio that I loved him too much to mess around with Tatsuki, but I didn’t. At the same time, however, I wanted him to tell me not to choose Tatsuki. I wanted him to fight for me.

My heart felt like it was caught in a tug-of-war between my ego and his…and it hurt.

 

***

 

On Monday, after the broadcast, Tatsuki came jogging over. “Sorry to bother you!”

“Do you need something?” I asked in my Kunieda Kei voice, since other people were present. Likewise, he didn’t comment on my tone.

“See, the thing is, my voiceover recording didn’t go too well,” he sighed. “It was my first time doing that documentary-style voice, and…I mean, the director said he chose me on purpose to create a contrast, but…I guess the contrast was too big? And uneven in some parts, since it was such a long take? So they decided I have to retake it, but the director told me he wants me to study up beforehand. Anyway, you remember a couple years ago when you did that one voiceover? The one about the Buddha statue restoration?”

“Yes?”

“Well, apparently that’s what they’re going for. But when I went to check it out from the repository, they said the cultural resource division is using it right now…so I thought I’d ask if maybe you had a DVD of it lying around that I could borrow.”

“I do, actually. Would you like to come by my place and pick it up?” I suggested with a soft smile.

“You mean it?”

“Of course. No sense in making you wait—I imagine they’re going to want that recording done sooner rather than later.”

“You’re the best!”

I couldn’t see any possible compromise between Tatsuki and I, but nevertheless, I knew I couldn’t let my unspoken secret fester. Even if the DVD was just a plausible excuse to get him alone, he’d been the one to make the request, and that worked in my favor.

So I forced my way into the passenger seat of a taxi and reluctantly took him home with me, like leftovers I didn’t want. It was the first time anyone other than Ushio had visited my apartment; guilt nibbled at me as I inserted the key into the lock.

Relax. We’re not doing anything inappropriate, I told myself. I need to put this conversation to rest, that’s all.

Meanwhile, Tatsuki didn’t sound nervous in the least.

“Thanks for having me over. Ooh, is that HUNTER×
HUNTER?! Can I read it?”

“Lay one finger on my stuff and I’ll beat your ass.”

“Wow. Is that really how you’re gonna talk to me when we’re alone?”

“Quit your bitching and settle down. You can sit right over there on that couch. Just try not to breathe my air.”

“I can’t even breathe? Are you trying to kill me?”

“If I’m lucky.” I pulled the DVD in question from the shelf and chucked the jewel case at him like it was a frisbee.

“Whoa! Almost dropped it… Thanks a bunch. When do you need it back?”

“I don’t ‘need’ it at all.”

“I can keep it?! Score!”

“Now scoot over… All the way over.”

Once I made sure Tatsuki was sitting on the very edge of the couch, I sat down on the opposite edge.

“This is a little unnatural, don’t you think…?” he asked.

“I don’t care.”

“So where’s your bedroom? Is it in there?”

“Why the hell would I give you that information?!”

“I’m just curious, man! Has Tsuzuki-san been here before? I bet he has. Can I ask how you two got together?”

“Go to hell!”

“I like him. Really down-to-earth and fun to talk to. Plus, he’s hot.”

“What?!” Wait…was he after Ushio the whole time?

Tatsuki saw the growing confusion on my face and burst out laughing. “Relax! I don’t mean it like that. You’ve never had a real relationship before, have you, Kunieda-san?”

“Says the guy who does nothing but hang around mixers.”

“Did Tsuzuki-san say anything about me?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, judging from what I heard during the phone call, it sounds like he’s out of town somewhere…but you probably still told him what I said to you, right?”

Tatsuki turned his entire body in my direction, resting his elbow against the back cushion as he gazed at the still tight knot of my tie.

God, I’m tired of wearing this crap. I wanna be me again.

Ruffling up my perfect hair, I decided to hit him with Ushio’s hypothesis. “He was worried that…you’d use your newfound knowledge to blackmail me into dating you.”

Tatsuki blinked at me, eyes wide. Then he pointed a finger at me. “Oh man, I should’ve thought of that! Yeah, that works for me!”

“Not happening!”

Why did he have to have the exact same delayed reaction I did? As much as I hated to admit it…maybe we were birds of a feather. Usually smart, but on occasion, profoundly stupid.

“Yeah, you’re right. No point in blackmailing you into it.”

Good. But right as relief started to set in—

“But you know, Kunieda-san, I don’t think you hate me as much as you pretend to.”

“Oh yeah? Real confident about that, are you? What, you think everyone in the world loves you?”

“No, it’s not that. But I’m pretty sure I’d be able to tell if you hated my guts for real.”

Sounds pretty overconfident to me, you clown! I was tempted to shower him in insults like a hail of bullets, but I knew it would only forestall the conversation. Irritating as it was, Tatsuki already had a solid grasp of my personality. Swallowing my vitriol, I looked him right in the eye—or, I tried.

“Hey! I didn’t say to close your eyes!” I snapped. Nor did I tell you to lean in, damn it!

“Huh? Isn’t this the part where you kiss me?”

“I’m gonna sew your goddamn eyelids shut.” But I wasn’t as disgusted as I could have been. “This is what I don’t like about you,” I continued. “You’re shameless, self-assured, and a ridiculously fast learner…and you think you can get away with anything as long as you smile and play nice.”

Then, finally, I owned up to the inner workings of my heart.

“I…don’t especially wish I was like you, but…part of me does envy you. Which is why your behavior always pisses me off.”

“Whoa! You look up to me?! Aww, Kunieda-san! That’s so sweet!”

“Quit putting words in my mouth.”

“Everyone admires you, too, y’know,” he continued, inching toward me on his knees. “Your personality, your good looks, your talent…”

“That stuff’s all fake. It’s as staged as any TV show.”

“Yeah, yeah, you set it all up to get attention. And it worked. But somehow, you’re still jealous of me. You wanna know why that is? Because you’re not content with just Tsuzuki-san. Part of you wants more than that.”

My back was now pressed all the way against the armrest, my hand clinging to the back cushion.

“And you think you can fill that void?” I asked.

“I won’t give you an ultimatum. You don’t have to choose me over your main squeeze.” He took me by the wrist. Then he leaned in, just like he did during his interview; it didn’t make me weak in the knees, but I wasn’t repulsed, either. Worst of all, he seemed so nonchalant about this proposal that it almost started to sound like a good idea. Not sure what that says about me as a person.

“You’re already leading a double life at work, right? So just let me have that half. I’d feel bad if I came in and wrecked your relationship with Tsuzuki-san. But since we work together, I’m sure we’d have no trouble hiding it. So why not date me at work, then go home and date him? You think he’d get mad about it?”

“He’s already mad,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “He blew a gasket and said he wasn’t coming home.”

Sure, he might’ve only said it in the heat of the moment, but he was generally a man of his word…and with his freelance job, he could find ways to support himself just about anywhere…

“Oh, nice. Lucky me.”

“Have some remorse for your actions, you ass!”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise… Can I kiss you?”

“What the hell for?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he grinned, kicking my reservations to the curb. Unexpectedly sly of him, actually. “Now let me kiss you. I know you don’t have the guts to be the bad guy yourself… Go ahead and blame it all on me.”

He squeezed my hand and I noticed his was a bit sweaty. That was when I realized that maybe his confidence wasn’t quite so bulletproof—an observation that sparked a hint of affection in me at the worst possible time. His was a passion entirely unlike the admiration and praise I was used to…a passion I thought only Ushio could feel for me…

“I’m in love with you. I mean it.”

I feel nothing! I feel nothing! I feel nothing! But despite my claims to the contrary, my heart was already pounding. And while admittedly I did close my eyes, it was only a reflexive response to the foreign object approaching my face…I think…

 

***

 

“I can’t do this!”

Right as I thrust both hands out and pushed Tatsuki away, I heard my front door open. Naturally, there was only one person with a spare key. Thunderous footsteps barreled down the hall toward us, and the living room door flew open. I stared blankly.

“Good grief, Kunieda-san,” Tatsuki sighed, sounding utterly unruffled. “Times like these, you gotta remember to chain the door!”

“It’d take a lot more than that to keep me out,” Ushio replied, equally unperturbed.

“Fair enough! Anyway, I’m not trying to start a fight.”

How the hell are you people so calm? Am I the only one with my heart in my throat over here? Damn it, I need to say something!

Spurred on by inexplicable panic, I blurted out: “It’s not my fault! You said you weren’t coming back!”

Oh shit. That makes it sound like I was trying to cheat on him! One of those classic soap opera “you said you were going on a business trip” clichés!

As I panicked even harder, Ushio turned and glared daggers at me. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Uhhh… It was just a figure of speech…?”

“Last I checked, speech is supposed to be your area of expertise. Riddle me that.”

He hauled me off the couch, yanked me down to the floor, and slid an arm under each of my legs.

“Hey, wait… What are you doing…?”

“Punishing you.”

“What?!”

In this position?! Is he about to do what I think he’s about to do?! He wouldn’t, would he? But what else would my “punishment” be?!

“Stop it, dumbass!” I shouted, attempting to wriggle free. Unfortunately, he had both of my legs locked down. I was a sitting duck.

“You think you have any right to boss me around?”

“I just—we can’t do this! Not in public! We just can’t!”

Ushio let out a heavy sigh. “Moron.”

While still keeping hold of my legs, he got up, rolled me over, straddled my hips, then sat down on my back.

“Aaaaaggghh!”

Pain shot through me as my toes approached my skull.

“Stop it, you gorilla! That hurts!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a punishment if it didn’t, now would it?”

“Wow. This is really something else,” Tatsuki murmured in admiration, like he was observing an ant farm.

“Don’t just sit there! Help me!” Damn it, why isn’t he the one getting punished?!

“What constitutes ‘help’ when he’s got you in a Boston crab maneuver? You want a towel or something?”

“You asshole!”

“If anyone’s an asshole, it’s you,” Ushio growled.

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurts!”

After Ushio finally finished venting his frustration on me, he released my legs. Then he turned to Tatsuki. “So, what did you two get up to?” he asked. “Anything I should be concerned about? I’m guessing yes.”

Hey dumbass, you’re crushing me!

“I tried to seduce him, and it seemed like it was working.”

You didn’t need to be that honest about it!

“Minagawa, you little bastard…”

Trapped beneath his weight, the most I could do was prop myself up on my elbows to raise my head—

“You stay out of this,” Ushio hissed at me. Then he turned back to Tatsuki. “So, what were you planning to do if he came around?”

“Mmm… Honestly, I wouldn’t ask him to break up with you or anything like that. I’m fine going halfsies with you, y’know?”

“Halfsies… Right.”

I turned my head as far as it would go, but all I could see was Ushio’s back.

“I gotta be honest, Minegawa-kun… Even after all this, I still can’t bring myself to hate you.”

“Oh yeah? Nice.”

“But you’re testing my fucking limits!” This guttural roar threatened to shake my apartment windows. Compared to this, my last phone call with him was practically civil. “Half and half? The fuck are you talking about? Give me a break, kid. Even assuming he was interested in you like that, I’d never hand him over to a loser who can’t commit. If you actually loved him, you’d want all of him for yourself. But no—you don’t respect him, you don’t respect yourself, you don’t respect the concept of love in general! You wanna flirt with another man’s boyfriend? Then be an adult about it, for fuck’s sake!”

Ushio fell perfectly still for a moment.

“Kei,” he continued without looking at me, “if you’re only going to give me half, then I’m not giving you my everything. You can have half, and I’ll find someone else for the other half. Got it?”

“No!” I shot back without hesitation. “I don’t want that! Ever!”

I slumped back to the floor and shook my head, rubbing my forehead against the cold hardwood. I didn’t want to imagine Ushio with anyone else.

“If I had to share you, I’d go nuts,” I croaked, partially from the weight on my back and partiually from suppressing the urge to cry. I loved Ushio, and both sides of myself were his alone. It had to be him. No one else would do.

I was an imbecile, and this was my wake-up call.

“Yeah, well, I feel the same way,” he said.

“Good…”

“Good.” He patted the back of my knee. “Now then, what do we say to Minagawa?”

“Uhhh… Get out?”

“Wrong!”

He twisted my legs again.

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow! Stop…freaking…doing that!”

“You led him on, so you need to apologize, damn it!”

“No! I don’t apologize to anyone!”

“Oh yeah? What about now?! Huh?!”

“Owwww!” I flailed my limbs in agony.

It’s funny—you’d think it’d be kind of fun, being the apex of a love triangle. Instead I was one wrong move away from being on the receiving end of a piledriver.

“Oh no, that’s okay. No apology necessary,” Tatsuki said with an awkward smile. “Honestly, I was prepared to take a punch or two, y’know, anywhere except the face. But I gotta say…I think you two might just be perfect for each other.”

Gee, thanks. In any other situation, that would have been a flattering sentiment.

“Touch him again and I’ll beat your ass,” Ushio growled.

“Roger dodger! Won’t happen again,” Tatsuki replied with a firm salute.

“Okay then, I trust you. Oh, and—”

“Can you guys maybe have this conversation somewhere that isn’t literally on top of me?!”

But Ushio just ignored me. “Could you keep quiet about his…condition? I know he’s dumb as a brick, but it’s the way he was born, and I don’t want to force him to be someone he’s not. I want him to keep living his life just the way he is… Okay?”

“Oh, please,” Tatsuki replied flippantly, dismissing Ushio’s concern with a wave of the DVD jewel case in his hand. “You think anyone would believe a rookie like me if I tried to tell ’em our prince is a wolf in sheep’s clothing? If anything, they’d think I was trying to sabotage his career, and the whole thing would backfire. Trust me, Kunieda-san’s made a real name for himself. It’s impressive stuff.”

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway, I’m heading out. Sorry for imposing…in more ways than one.”

For the love of god, keep your little comments to yourself.

Ushio showed Tatsuki to the door, locked it behind him, then walked back into the living room, where I continued to lie on my stomach on the floor.

“What’s the matter? Did it really hurt that bad? Want me to slap on a Salonpas or something?”

I shook my head silently and watched as my tears formed a warped little puddle on the hardwood. I knew I couldn’t afford to let my eyes get puffy, and yet I just couldn’t stop. It wasn’t his anger toward me, or the physical abuse. It was the simple fact that he cared, above all else, that got to me. He loved all of me…and he loved me with all of him.

“C’mon, don’t cry. I was just trying to teach you a lesson, that’s all.”

He lifted me up and guided me to the bedroom with uncommon tenderness; meanwhile, I continued to sob uncontrollably. Once we got to the bed, he sat me down and turned to go. Reflexively I grabbed the sleeve of his coat.

“I’m just gonna get an ice pack from the kitchen,” he reassured me, wiping away my tears with a smile. “Can’t let you go on TV looking like that, now, can we?”

He returned with an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth. As I held it against my eyes, he stroked my hair until I calmed down. Then, when I finally looked up, I found him gazing at me with a look so gentle I couldn’t help but avert my eyes.

He said, “You go on TV every single night, and each time I watch you, I think to myself, ‘Damn, that’s impressive. He’s so ridiculously good at his job.’ But sometimes…I hate it. I hate that I have to share you with thousands of people across the country. Sometimes I get so mad, I turn the TV off.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, I’m dead serious. If I offered to be your sugar daddy full time, would you quit your job and move in?”

“Hell no,” I replied instantly. “I thrive on the adoration of the masses. Without it, I’ll wither up and die.”

“I told you, I’ll just fawn over you myself!”

“I don’t want that, either!”

“Why not?”

The heat from my hands was starting to melt the ice pack. “You’re the exception. I don’t want your adoration.”

“No arguing with that, I guess.” He traced a finger over my lips and whispered, “Next time you cheat on me, you’re getting a German suplex.”

“Are you trying to kill me?!” Because tonight you almost succeeded!

“That reminds me… You had some wild ideas about what my punishment was going to be, didn’t you? You sick freak.”

“Well, excuse me for not anticipating your little pro wrestling debut!”

“Okay, but exhibitionism? Really? That’s a hard no from me.” He pulled me down onto the bed with him and grinned. “I’d never let anyone else sneak a peek.” Then he tossed my melted ice pack to the floor and pressed my chilly palm to his cheek. “I was miserable the whole way here. I couldn’t leave until I finished my work, and I was an hour behind schedule… None of this is your fault, to be clear.”

“Sorry.” Somehow it was easier to apologize when I knew he wasn’t blaming me. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

He had demanded that I apologize to Tatsuki, and yet he didn’t seem to need one for himself. We helped each other out of our clothes, and when I felt his skin against mine, a soft spark of electricity shot through my entire body.

“Aah…”

For a long moment he simply held me. The tip of his nose brushed against my ear, and I could feel its residual chill from the air outside. This is 100 percent, I thought to myself. This is everything. This is all there is. If I ever feel like it’s not enough, it’s because I’ve lost sight of something. It’s all right here.

“I love you,” I told him for the first time. “And not just half—I love you all the way.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, nuzzling his face against mine like a small animal.

Meanwhile, our heartbeats steadily quickened in time with each other. The two of us were perfectly content in our desire for one another, and that made me happier than anything. Wrapped up in each other’s arms, we kissed with our eyes closed, shutting out all the rest of the world. As we took turns savoring each other’s tongues and teeth, I felt a sweet yearning rise up inside me like smoke.

“Aah…!”

His kisses traced a line down my neck to my collarbone, then to my left nipple. When he sucked it, my heart tightened as though his suction was reeling it in.

“Mm…mmm!”

As his tongue spun little circles around its edges, I felt it swell up like a little red button, with my lust boiling just beneath the surface of the skin. Then he grazed his teeth against it, and I felt a warmth start to build behind my belly button.

“Nnn…aaahh…!”

By the time he arrived at my pelvis, my member was already glistening with fluid. It twitched as his breath brushed against it.

“Aah, no!”

The moment he put it in his mouth, my cock swelled and a piercing pleasure wracked my senses, as though he had condensed all of my lust into a single solid mass.

“Aah! Aaahh…aah…!”

As the strength drained from my limbs, it brought the residual ache in my loins into sharp relief—my body was already begging for more. Then Ushio reached over to grab the lube I kept in the drawer of my headboard, and the sight alone was enough to make another part of me twinge in anticipation.

“Turn around.”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m having trouble being patient.”

He rolled my numb, post-orgasmal body over onto my stomach and propped my lower half up on my knees. I tried to spread my legs to distribute my weight more evenly, but he squeezed them back together and dribbled lotion down the crack of my ass.

“Aaahh…”

First my body shivered at the sudden chill. Then he slid his cock between my legs, and goosebumps pricked up my arms in a pleasant tingle.

“Tense your legs.”

“Aah…aah!”

His engorged member rubbed against my inner thighs, teasing my groin. I clung to the bedsheets with both hands, doing my best to endure his motions.

“Gah…aah…aaahh…!”

As he fucked this makeshift orifice, he plunged a finger into my lubricated ass, all the way in to the knuckle, and began to stroke me from the inside.

“Aah! Aah…gah…oh god…”

As fireworks exploded in my brain, my hips reflexively jerked away from his touch, but he yanked me back with his free hand and added a second finger with the other.

“Aaahh!”

“Hold still, damn it.”

His rock-hard length continued to slam against me; meanwhile, his ministrations made my rectum squelch loudly.

“Stop that!”

“You sure? You seem like you like it.”

“Aah…!”

He slid his fingers in to the knuckle and worked them back and forth ever so slightly. Sure enough, I could feel my walls clamping down around him.

“You’re begging for it so bad,” Ushio groaned. “I wanna put my cock in you right this minute and fuck you until I cum. You’re so hot, it’s pissing me off!”

His unsteady voice and accelerating thrusts conveyed his passion in painstaking detail; his vulgar bedroom talk was laced with deep desperation.

“Aaahh…!”

He yanked his fingers back out of me. Then he grabbed my hips and held them in place while he thrust his length against me repeatedly. My rectum twitched in time with his movements; the jostling made my nipples rub against the sheets. Soon my cock was painfully erect once more.

“Aah…aah!”

“Nngh…!”

Then I felt his semen spurt all over the underside of my manhood, and his warmth pulled away, leaving my thighs cold and empty. But then, not a moment later—“Aah!”—he pressed his wet tip against my perineum, nestling it in the narrow gap, and I knew he was getting hard again. Then he slid a finger in my ass again.

“No!” I pleaded. “No fingers!”

His teasing was excruciating now.

“What’s the matter?”

“I wanna have sex! Sex, sex, sex!”

“We are having sex.”

“You know what I mean!”

My body wanted all of Ushio; this was not that. I had only just regained my composure, and now my eyes were damp with desire all over again.

“Dumbo,” he whispered, stroking my back. “I was trying to hold back since you’re still a little tight, but…your funeral, I guess. Spread your legs.”

At his command, I gladly obeyed. I wasn’t afraid of the pain—if anything, I was more afraid of the pleasure fading away for good.

“Aah…”

At last, he pressed the requested object against the requested location.

“Aaahh…aah…!”

My eyes were open, and yet my vision burned bright white. My entrance ached as it spread to its fullest limits…but I knew the pain would fade as soon as the widest part made it in.

“Aah! Aah! Aah! I’m gonna cum!”

“Hey! Don’t clamp down so tight!”

His hot cock buried itself inside me, forcibly spreading me wider as it went. As it rubbed against my prostate, pleasure bubbled up from inside my manhood and steadily dribbled out.

“Aaaahhh…!”

The rest of me was utterly exhausted, but my ass continued to revel in the pleasure. I could feel his veins pulsing right up against mine; his length was throbbing so violently, I half expected to hear it every time I opened my mouth.

“Ugh, I’m so screwed,” Ushio muttered through sharp breaths. “Now every time I see you on TV, I’ll think back to this.”

“Don’t! Just forget it, stupid!”

How can I sit in front of the camera with a straight face if I have to imagine you jacking off to all my broadcasts?

“You’re stupid if you think I can!”

As if to make his point, he jackhammered into me harder than ever. Jostled by his endless motions, I writhed and clamped down on his length.

“Aah! Nngh! Ushio! Ushio! Don’t stop!”

“Kei… Touch yourself…”

“Nngh…!”

As instructed, I stroked my manhood, still slick with his cum. With the steady stream of pleasure from the anal penetration, it stiffened even more readily than last time.

“Aaahh…gah…oh god…nngh!”

Likewise, the pleasure from my hand flowed back to my ass, and I clamped down on Ushio more intensely than ever before, engulfing him in my soft, sticky walls.

“Holy fuck,” Ushio groaned, his voice tinged with ecstasy. “I think I’m gonna lose it.”

“Aah! Aaahh! Aah! Cum in me! I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!”

It was my SOS, and Ushio responded by pounding me hard.

“I love you…!”

“Aaahh!”

Even when I closed my eyes, light flooded my vision. The instant I achieved climax, my hips floated up like they were disconnected from gravity…until the next moment when Ushio unloaded his thick seed in me, weighing me back down like an anchor.

 

***

 

Ushio told me he had to catch a flight back to America that evening. Apparently he’d left all his luggage behind and flown here with only the clothes on his back. As for his client, they weren’t demanding he return, per se, but his own sense of integrity wouldn’t let him skip out without finishing the job he agreed to do.

“Oh yeah?” What a hypocrite. He wants me to quit my job for him, but he’d never quit his for me. “What time’s your flight?” I asked, sounding bored.

“Around five.”

“Which airport? Haneda?”

“Narita.”

I did some quick mental calculations. If we left for the airport at three, I could see him off and make it back to the station in time for my show. Given my stellar track record, I could probably get away with being late if I gave them a plausible excuse, like “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to stop by the clinic before I come in.”

Meanwhile, Ushio yawned, unaware of my little scheme. As badly as I wanted to brag about the date I was going to take him on, I held my tongue. After all, I wanted it to be a surprise.

Once I saw him off, I could find some deserted restroom and change into my Kunieda Kei clothes. Where would I store them, though? Maybe a coin-operated locker would do the trick…but which one?

All these little details were a hassle to iron out, and yet I found I wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. First, I’d need to get my ass moving; then we’d leave the house together; then we’d catch a train to the airport; then I’d stare up at the sky and zone out watching his plane take off. No part of this task list was remotely fun, and yet I was tickled pink.

So, was I doing this for me or for him?

The answer: both.