S Vol. 2: A Love Bite (Yaoi Novel)
An empty pizza box sat on the nightstand, along with a beer can and an overflowing ashtray. The air in the bedroom smelled. Nagakura must have been chain-smoking.
This guy had some nerve.
“What happened to your face? You don’t look so sexy anymore,” Nagakura teased.
Shiiba suddenly remembered his bruises and felt embarrassed.
“Never mind, okay?” he snapped. “You’re at the wrong place, Nagakura. You should be at police headquarters.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Shiiba. I can do whatever I want,” Nagakura barked.
“Why did you come here then? Do you want me to arrest you?” Shiiba challenged.
Nagakura smiled his old familiar smile. He seemed just the same as always. In fact, Shiiba nearly forgot that he was supposed to be a murderer.
Suddenly Nagakura moved closer and pulled up Shiiba’s sleeves. Both wrists showed angry marks where Munechika had tied them together.
“Whoa! You’re into bondage?” Nagakura asked with surprise.
Shiiba avoided looking at him. “You’ve got it wrong,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to hide from me. Was it Munechika? You two have fun last night? Bet you really enjoyed it.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Shiiba insisted.
“So Munechika is a sadist, just like me.”
“Shut up! I said it wasn’t like that!” Shiiba screamed, yanking Nagakura by his collar.
“You mean Munechika isn’t a pervert?” Nagakura snorted. “I see. So what did Munechika do to you then? Tie you up? Slap you around?” He pushed Shiiba on the bed and pinned him down. “Bet he left marks all over you. Am I right, Shiiba? Why cover up for him?” he yelled.
Shiiba shuddered, but didn’t answer.
“You should hate him for doing this!” Nagakura went on. “You’re not the type who likes to get beat up, especially by your S. He stomped on your male pride, Shiiba! That must have felt like crap.”
Nagakura could tell Shiiba had been deeply hurt, just from the look on his face.
“Why don’t you run away?” Nagakura asked softly.
“He’s not usually like this,” Shiiba insisted. “This was an accident.”
But his excuses couldn’t hide the truth.
Nagakura just shook his head. “You’re a strong man, Shiiba. I’m jealous of you.”
“Strong? Me?” Shiiba snorted, laughing in spite of himself.
He ran away from Munechika because he was afraid to get too close. That was why this had all happened. How could Nagakura call him strong? He was a mess, inside and out.
“If I’d been strong like you, my life could have been different,” Nagakura muttered.
He had no idea how Shiiba really felt.
“Stop it!” Shiiba cried out, unable to take it anymore. He punched Nagakura’s chest with his fists. “I’m not strong! I just pretend to be! My real self wants to run away and cry, but my pride gets in the way.”
Shiiba hated himself for having these feelings, for being so weak. “You’re lucky, Nagakura,” he snapped. “You didn’t sleep with Mao. Sleeping with your S is slow suicide…”
Getting beat up by Munechika had made Shiiba’s heart burst wide open. He didn’t care how pathetic he looked. In fact, it felt good to finally spill his guts.
“Sleeping with Munechika has made me crazy,” he gasped. “You say I’m not dirty, but I am. I just wear a clean mask so people won’t see the real me. But I just can’t wear it anymore. I can’t, I can’t…”
Last night’s tension had taken its toll. Shiiba felt consumed by anxiety and fear.
“I can never recover from this! What should I do?” he choked. “I don’t even know who I am anymore…”
“Shiiba,” Nagakura said softly, gathering Shiiba into his arms.
When Shiiba resisted, Nagakura held him even tighter.
“You’re not dirty, Shiiba,” Nagakura whispered. “Who cares who you sleep with? You’ll never be like me, so don’t worry about it. It’s okay, it’s okay…”
As Nagakura gently stroked his back, Shiiba finally stopped trembling. He lost all track of time as he snuggled closer to Nagakura, close enough to feel the other man’s heartbeat. Shiiba had never really listened to someone’s heart before.
He lifted his head to find Nagakura gazing down at him with his hard brown eyes.
His eyes are so cruel, yet his touch is so gentle, Shiiba thought. Once, he had despised this man, but now he felt so close to him.
“You’ll never be like me,” Nagakura had told him.
It hurt Shiiba to know that their paths would be very different now. Nagakura’s detective days were over, and he would never see Mao again.
Thinking about Nagakura’s words, Shiiba had a sudden realization. Nagakura wasn’t talking to him. He was really talking to Mao.
Nagakura wanted to hold Mao, squeeze him tight, whisper in his ear. But now he’d never have the chance to make up for lost time. Mao would always remember Nagakura as a cold, violent man.
Shiiba lifted his hand and gently stroked the rough stubble on Nagakura’s tired face. He suddenly felt a tenderness stirring inside him. Had Mao’s feelings for Nagakura moved into Shiiba’s heart? And did Nagakura see Mao in Shiiba? Shiiba felt sad as Nagakura caressed his cheek.
“Shiiba,” Nagakura whispered, pulling him so close their breaths mingled.
Finally he broke the wall. He leaned forward and gave Shiiba a kiss.
As soon as their lips touched, Shiiba opened his mouth, inviting Nagakura inside. Their tongues danced together as Nagakura squeezed Shiiba tight.
Their kiss was so passionate, Shiiba forgot everything for a while. They drew apart for a moment, both gasping for breath. Suddenly Nagakura bit Shiiba’s neck, hard enough to draw blood.
The sharp pain instantly brought Shiiba back to earth.
“Nagakura. We can’t do this,” he moaned.
“I know,” Nagakura sighed, clinging to Shiiba like a child with a new toy. They stayed like that for a while until Nagakura finally released his grip. “Uh, sorry about that,” he said lightly, taking out a cigarette. The tormented man seemed to have totally vanished.
Shiiba sat up and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I need a drink, Shiiba,” Nagakura suddenly whined. “There’ll be no booze where I’m going.”
Shiiba felt relieved. Nagakura sounded like he was ready to turn himself in.
“I just have beer,” Shiiba said, looking in his fridge.
“That’s okay,” Nagakura said with a nod. “You have one, too.”
“I’m fine,” Shiiba said, lighting a cigarette. He sat next to Nagakura. “Why did you decide to confess now?”
“At first, I wanted to keep going until I found the weapons,” Nagakura admitted. “But the Ikkou Society knows I offed Kunugi, so I’m Enemy Number One to them. They have to kill me just to save face. If the Yakuza get me first, the police will have to pick up lots of little pieces.”
“Why did you kill him?” Shiiba asked. It was a hard question, but he had to know the answer.
Nagakura sat quietly for a while, and then nodded. “Remember when we talked about Munechika’s dinner with Sagami? That same night, Kunugi went out drinking with Tahara in Ginza. Tahara phoned me from the toilet and said Kunugi was going to his weapons cache. This was the first time Tahara was going to see the guns.”
“Did you use his affair with Mao to blackmail Tahara? Is that why he did what you said?” Shiiba asked pointedly.
“Well, Tahara always needed cash, so he didn’t need much persuading. Mao had gotten valuable information from him before, but now Tahara was even more useful.”
“So what happened next?” Shiiba prompted.
“I followed Kunugi and Tahara in a taxi after they left the bar. They drove to an industrial area in Kawasaki. I waited until they went in, and then peeped in a window.” Nagakura took another slug of beer then continued. “The place was full of scrap metal, but they came out right away and took off in their car. Lucky for me, the lock was easy to pick. I went inside and looked around. Suddenly I saw a big container. ‘This is it!’ I thought.”
Like a street mime, Nagakura opened a pretend treasure chest and squinted inside.
“It was empty,” he said with a sigh.
“Too bad,” Shiiba said ruefully.
“Suddenly the door swung open,” Nagakura said, looking agitated. “Kunugi came in with a gun. He had figured out that I was following him, so he lured me to this phony place. Good thing Tahara was there! He was so afraid I’d tell on him, he grabbed Kunugi’s gun. I took it from him and shot Kunugi.”
As Nagakura told his story, Shiiba felt angrier and angrier, and now he exploded with rage. “You didn’t have to kill him! You could have called for back-up! We’d get him for gun possession. Maybe he would have led us to his weapons stash.”
“I had to,” Nagakura said quietly, staring at his beer can. “But you’re absolutely right. I pulled the trigger without thinking. Never thought I had the nerve to kill somebody. I surprised even myself.”
“Did you hate him because he forced Mao to be his lover? Is that why you shot him?” Shiiba demanded to know.
“Okay, I was jealous,” Nagakura admitted. “But I hated him for another reason. Once, he killed a woman.”
“A woman…or your lover?” Shiiba snapped.
“She wasn’t my lover, though we did have sex. First and foremost, she was my S.”
His S?
Shiiba’s arms broke out in goosebumps.
So Nagakura actually had two good reasons to kill the man: not only had Kunugi killed his last S, he was sleeping with his current one.
“You knew that Kunugi killed her? Is that why you infiltrated the Ikkou?” Shiiba asked.
“Actually, I was ordered to do that. It was a complete coincidence. I only found out recently that Kunugi killed her. Tahara told me. Once, when they were out drinking, Kunugi boasted about killing a woman who had ratted on one of his gang members. He said they beat her up, gang-raped her, and then left her on the street. Kunugi had been in the Yamato Group with the man who hooked up with my S. I entered the Ikkou Society soon afterward. I wanted to find those weapons more than anything else.”
Shiiba felt strangely close to Nagakura right now. They really were quite alike. Both had suffered terrible losses at the hands of the Yakuza, and both had lost an S to murder. One other thing united them: they both hated the system that didn’t protect people, yet they still remained a part of it.
Looking at Nagakura was like looking in a mirror, Shiiba realized. Mao had said the two of them were similar.
“Who knows when I first thought about killing him,” Nagakura went on. “Maybe I always wanted to. When I finally got the chance, it was so easy. Guess I’m just weak.”
So that was what Nagakura had been talking about at the hotel. He was jealous of Shiiba’s ability to turn the other cheek, to get his revenge in a more law-abiding way.
“Why did you move Kunugi’s body?” Shiiba asked.
“I needed time to find the guns. I figured the police would peg the Yagami Group at first, so it didn’t matter where they found the body.”
“He got scared and ran off,” Nagakura grunted, shaking his head. “If the Ikkou knew that he’d been helping me, he’d have hell to pay. He’s probably shivering under his quilt somewhere.”
He stood up. “Time to go,” he said grimly.
“I’ll go with you,” Shiiba quickly offered.
Nagakura instantly looked upset. “Why? I’m not running anymore. Are you trying to get brownie points with the bosses?”
“Just to the door. I won’t go in,” Shiiba promised.
Nagakura shrugged, and they left the room together. Outside, they flagged down a taxi and headed for Shinjuku. They left the taxi just before Shinjuku Station.
As soon as Nagakura walked through the door, his detective days would be over.
“My last steps as a free man,” he muttered, taking out a cigarette.
Shiiba lit one, too.
“Damn, no matches left,” Nagakura scowled, tossing the empty matchbox in the air. Shiiba offered his lighter, but Nagakura shook his head. “No, thanks. Cigarettes don’t taste right with a lighter.”
That was news to Shiiba, but now that he thought about it, Nagakura had always used matches. Everybody has their quirks, Shiiba thought.
“Lean closer. I’ll light mine on yours,” Nagakura ordered.
Shiiba did as told, touching the ends of their cigarettes together. Nagakura sucked in his breath as his cigarette ignited. A thin trail of smoke wafted into the air. Nagakura gazed at Shiiba through the smoke.
“What?” Shiiba asked.
“It would have been nice to sleep together.”
“You mean with Mao?”
“No. I mean with you,” Nagakura said wistfully.
Shiiba choked on his cigarette and glared at Nagakura, who was sadly puffing away.
“I almost forced myself on you last night,” Nagakura admitted, walking slowly toward the station.
“I was going to practice on you,” Nagakura said.
“A rehearsal is never the same as the real thing,” Shiiba muttered.
Nagakura exhaled a gust of smoke, which slowly floated toward the sky.
“What will you do about Mao?” Shiiba asked.
“Nothing. I can’t do anything.”
Nagakura was telling the truth. Since he was a police officer, they’d throw the book at him. He’d go to prison for a long, long time.
“Do you want me to tell him something?” Shiiba asked.
“Nah. Let him forget all about me. He’ll probably fall in love with a total jerk now. Makes me laugh. But remembering his sweet face when we first met still gives me the shivers.”
No wonder he told him his real name, Shiiba thought.
Nagakura had special feelings for Mao right from the start. He must have seen something in the young boy that reminded him of his murdered S.
“Are you sure?” Shiiba persisted.
“You’re such a softy, Shiiba! Worrying about other people will put you in an early grave,” Nagakura said fiercely. He turned to Shiiba and lowered his voice. “Don’t trust everything the bosses say. We’re the screws that keep the system together. If we disobey, they’ll just find a new screw. We all know way too much, so if there’s a scandal, we’ll be the first to go.”
Deep down, Shiiba knew he was right, but Nagakura had even more to say.
“When Arms and Narcotics first started S work, the higher-ups were enthusiastic. We could do whatever we wanted, as long as we didn’t kill anybody. But some detectives drifted to the wrong side, and started working only for themselves.”
Nagakura sighed. This was his last piece of advice, but Shiiba suddenly had the urge to tell him something.
“You’re not weak, Nagakura,” Shiiba insisted.
Nagakura looked at him with surprise.
“If I ever meet the man who killed my sister, I’ll probably do the same thing,” Shiiba admitted.
If he had a loaded gun in his hand, Shiiba knew he could pull the trigger without a second thought. That was the nature of guns, they made killing easy. Only one tiny, mechanical movement was required, no human interaction whatsoever. The sheer simplicity of it turned normal people into murderers.
“You couldn’t do what I did. And you won’t, I guarantee it,” Nagakura said firmly, patting Shiiba’s head.
Shiiba still had much left to say, but they had reached Shinjuku Station. They paused to look at each other.
“You’ve come far enough, Shiiba,” Nagakura said. “There is one thing you can do for me, though.”
Shiiba thought Nagakura was referring to Mao, but the doomed detective had a different request.
“The Ikkou’s weapons. You have to find them,” Nagakura said bluntly.
Nagakura had made a grave mistake, but, in the end, he was still a detective.
Shiiba nodded. Nagakura smiled his wry smile, then started walking toward the door, both hands in his pockets. His shoulders slumped a little, but he kept on walking.
“Okamura!” someone called out suddenly.
Shiiba turned to see a man running toward them, holding a gun.
“Nagakura!” Shiiba screamed, just as the shot rang out.
Nagakura had turned around to look, giving the man a perfect target. He slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
A woman passing by screamed with shock. The shooter jumped into a car and zoomed off into the night.
Soon police officers came flooding out of the station. They cried out with indignation as they surrounded Nagakura’s body. Shiiba just stood there, holding his breath, as blood streamed over the sidewalk.
Nagakura had decided to turn himself in, to face up to his crime. Why did they have to shoot him?
“Masaki,” someone said.
Shiiba looked up to see Asakawa coming toward him.
“What happened? Is this Nagakura?” Asakawa gasped.
Shiiba just nodded, still in shock. He could hear sirens in the distance. They must have called an ambulance.
“He was going to turn himself in…” Shiiba started to say, but the sirens drowned him out.
The room seemed deathly quiet. Mao had been crouched on the leather sofa for a long time, hugging his knees. Finally he spoke.
“I can’t believe Nagakura killed Kunugi.”
“Why?” Shiiba asked.
Mao turned to him, and then looked down again. His long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
“Tahara called me the night Kunugi was murdered, before I knew he was dead. Tahara seemed really upset, crying and talking crazy. He told me to stay put, but I had no idea what he was talking about. When I saw the news about Kunugi’s murder, I figured Tahara did it. I wondered if he was scared because of Nagakura. Then I started to think…”
Mao sighed and buried his face in his knees.
“Mr. Shiiba, I know where the weapons are,” Mao said in a low voice.
Shiiba felt surprised, and yet not surprised. “Where?”
“In that factory where Nagakura killed Kunugi.”
“But Nagakura said nothing was there,” Shiiba said.
“Not in the warehouse. I saw them in the office. Kunugi showed me. Tons of pistols, and automatic weapons, too.”
Nagakura had been so close, but reality had not been kind to him.
“Why didn’t you tell Nagakura? Were you trying to punish him or something?” Shiiba asked.
Mao looked like he was about to cry. “No. I didn’t tell him because I wanted to stay with him. If Nagakura found the weapons, he wouldn’t need me anymore…”
Shiiba felt his throat tighten as he listened to Mao’s confession. Poor kid. He kept his mouth shut all this time, terrified that Nagakura would let him go.
Shiiba patted Mao’s head and stood up. “Wait here. I’ll get us some coffee.”
The sixth floor interview room had been emptied for Mao, luckily for Shiiba. Since Investigations was on the seventh floor, he didn’t have to worry about bumping into the other detectives. He stepped into the corridor and saw Takasaki walking toward him, just back from the hospital.
“Shiiba,” Takasaki said quietly.
“Contact the Incidents Team,” Shiiba said in a rush. “The Ikkou Society probably doesn’t know yet. If we don’t hurry…”
“Shiiba,” Takasaki repeated, a little louder this time.
Shiiba looked at the floor in agony, bracing himself for the bad news.
“They couldn’t save Nagakura. It was too late,” Takasaki said, rubbing his eyes.
He looked totally exhausted. The whole Nagakura situation had ripped his heart to pieces.
“Did he say anything else to you? I mean, other than his confession?” he asked tiredly.
Shiiba had already told Takasaki that Nagakura killed Kunugi in self-defense, but he didn’t tell his boss that Kunugi had murdered Nagakura’s former S.
There were so many things Shiiba wanted to share with Takasaki.
The incredible stress Nagakura was under, his deep mistrust of the system.
But Shiiba kept his mouth shut, knowing Takasaki would not really be interested.
“Nagakura did say that he planned to quit after this case,” Shiiba offered instead.
“If only he’d found the weapons sooner. He could have retired and lived a good life,” Takasaki said with a sigh.
If Nagakura had found the weapons sooner, he would still be alive. But one small detail had steered Nagakura’s life on to a completely different path.
Shiiba heard something behind him and turned around.
Mao had been listening to their conversation and was staring at them with wide eyes. Now that he knew Nagakura was dead, he didn’t scream or even cry. He just looked stunned.
“Mao? What’s wrong?” Shiiba asked gently.
“It’s all my fault!” Mao cried out. “I should have told him where the weapons were! Then he’d still be alive!”
But he had loved Nagakura, so he hadn’t share the secret. Ironically, Mao’s love for Nagakura had contributed to his death. Or was Mao being too fatalistic?
But Nagakura had pulled the first trigger, and Kunugi’s man had pulled the trigger on him. Mao had nothing to do with it.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shiiba said softly, putting his arms around Mao.
Several hours later, Asakawa appeared in the sixth floor interview room, carrying two cans of coffee. Operations on the seventh floor had finally calmed down.
“Where’s Mao Takanashi?” he asked.
“I just took him to a hotel,” Shiiba said tiredly.
It was a business hotel next to Shinjuku Station.
“Did he look all right?” Asakawa asked.
“A bit pale, but he’d calmed down a bit.”
Takasaki had already gone to the factory with a Weapons Team to retrieve the guns. This was a great day for the department, but Shiiba couldn’t feel pleased.
“I’m still in shock,” Asakawa said quietly. “This was the absolute worst outcome.”
Now that the suspect was dead, Nagakura would officially go down in the records as Kunugi’s murderer. The case had finally been solved.
“Well, looks like my work is done here,” Shiiba said.
“Sorry for making you look after Takanashi,” Asakawa said sleepily, rubbing the stubble on his chin. It was almost daybreak.
“I should thank you,” Shiiba said.
“Were you close to Nagakura, Masaki?” Asakawa asked. He looked like he’d just remembered something.
“Why do you ask?” Shiiba asked cautiously.
“He came to see you before he turned himself in,” Asakawa pointed out.
“Not really,” Shiiba answered with a shrug. “We were just colleagues. Before this case, we had barely even talked to each other.”
“Then why did he want to see you?” Asakawa wondered.
“Probably because we were in the same position,” Shiiba guessed. “We both did S work. He probably thought I would understand why he did what he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t really explain it. It’s…it’s just our job.”
Shiiba knew that was a vague answer, but Asakawa didn’t press him any further.
“Do you think Mao will be okay, Asakawa?” Shiiba asked with concern.
Right now, Mao was the only person Shiiba really cared about.
“We found the weapons, so the Ikkou Society doesn’t need him now. It has bigger problems, anyway. The group originally blamed the Yagami Group for Kunugi’s death. Its members never expected this turn of events.”
Shiiba felt relieved, but Asakawa had even more news.
“This actually might break up the Ikkou Society,” he speculated. “Kunugi’s dead. They lost the weapons. At this point, the Yagami Group can easily grab the Kansai area away from them, and then move on to the Matsukura Group. But the Matsukura Group knows this already, and are probably helping the Ikkou Society behind the scenes.”
This was the first time Shiiba had heard about this, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. He knew that Munechika was friendly with Sagami from the Ikkou Society, but he hadn’t been informed of any other relationship.
As a member of the Matsukura Group, Munechika would be devastated by the news of the weapons seizure. The Matsukura Group would do everything in its power to keep the Ikkou Society together.
Shiiba got up from the sofa and bowed to Asakawa.
“I’m going home now,” he said.
“Let’s have dinner with Shino again soon,” Asakawa suggested. “Or we could all go look at the cherry blossoms. There should still be some left.”
They nodded to each other, even though both knew they’d be too busy to do anything like that.
“Sounds good,” Shiiba agreed, leaving the room.
Outside Shinjuku Station, the sun was just coming up. There were only a few cars on the road and the air still smelled fresh and new.
Chapter 8
Shiiba put on his flashiest clothes and left the house, off to meet an informant who ran a Shinjuku bath house. Once in Shinjuku, he had a sudden change of heart and hopped a train to Marunouchi.
Ever since the incident, Shiiba had been taking a lot of time off work. In fact, today was his seventh day away. He had 20 vacation days every year, so as long as he gave notice, it wasn’t a problem. Takasaki had called a few times, urging him to come back, but he mostly gave Shiiba his space. Seeing a colleague murdered right in front of you could be traumatizing, Takasaki knew.
But Shiiba couldn’t take advantage of Takasaki’s kindness forever. He planned to drag himself back to work, but when the day actually arrived, he still felt too lazy to go.
Nagakura’s death had often come back to haunt him, like the delayed pain of a punch to the gut. Shiiba found that he had lost all will to keep standing in the ring.
As the train swayed, Shiiba gripped a handrail near the door, staring blankly at his reflection in the window. He wore sunglasses to cover his black eye, but they didn’t hide everything. Most of his face was still a mess. He looked at the man in front of him.
Hey, you. If you’re not working, what are you doing? Shiiba silently asked.
But the man just wearily stared back at him.
Feeling bored, Shiiba glanced at the advertisements above the windows. A big headline from a weekly magazine read “Good and Evil: the Detective Who Murdered A Kingpin.”
The story had captured the public’s imagination, and with good reason. A police officer shot a gang boss, and then was gunned down himself, right before he was about to confess. The situation had spiraled out of control, and the police worked round the clock just dealing with the media.
But the whirlwind was finally starting to die down. The man who murdered Nagakura had turned himself in, and the COC5 Incidents team had impounded a huge case of weapons. For all practical purposes, the case was over.
Soon people would forget all about it, just like they forgot about Yukari’s murder. Back then, Shiiba had also been swept up in a media frenzy, but six months later, nobody ever brought it up. Andou’s death had been exactly the same.
But for those directly involved, the bitter memories would last forever. Nagakura’s death was just the latest tombstone for Shiiba to grieve over.
Mao had checked out of the hotel near Shinjuku Station and completely disappeared, leaving a letter addressed to Shiiba in his room. Asakawa brought it to him one day.
Thank you for everything. It’s all okay now.
That was it. Shiiba suddenly thought of a baby bird taking flight.
“He finally escaped his cage. He can fly wherever he wants to now,” Nagakura had said, way back in that shabby hotel.
But for a little bird who actually wanted to remain caged, Mao’s new freedom must be tinged with sadness. The hawk was no longer around to bully him, but the little bird still couldn’t be happy. He wanted to stay with the hawk forever. As hurtful as that situation was, to the bird it felt like home.
Shiiba had called Mao’s cell phone a few times, but the number seemed to be disconnected. Believing that this was what Mao wanted, Shiiba had deleted the number from his speed dial.
Shiiba got off the train at the seventh station past Shinjuku. Emerging from underground, he found himself directly across the street from the 21-story Central Metropolitan Government Building Number Two. Police headquarters occupied the top six floors.
It was late, but Shiiba still saw lights in a few windows. He wondered if one of those windows could be Shinozuka’s office.
Shiiba didn’t really come here to see Shinozuka. He could have just gone to his house to do that. For some reason, he just felt like seeing the place where Shinozuka worked.
I wonder if Shinozuka ever feels like ditching his job, Shiiba wondered, and then quickly snapped back to reality.
Shinozuka wasn’t like him; he was one of the chosen ones. The police force had almost 270,000 members, but only 500 were on a career track. That relatively small number kept the enormous organization moving. Only those who could handle the stress were allowed to rise to the top.
Shinozuka was definitely strong. Though he sometimes had to make agonizing decisions, he could still share a laugh with his friends. Shiiba was jealous of his brother-in-law’s strength, jealous to the point of frustration.
All of a sudden, Shiiba needed to hear Shinozuka’s voice. He selected the number in his phone and pressed the call button.
“Hello, Masaki,” Shinozuka said, after only one ring. “I’m surprised to hear from you. Is something wrong?”
“Not really. I just, uh, wanted to hear your voice,” Shiiba shyly admitted.
He felt that Shinozuka was smiling on the other end.
“How nice of you,” Shinozuka said. “Want to meet up in a few minutes?”
“Aren’t you still working?” Shiiba asked.
“All done for today,” Shinozuka replied. “Actually, I was just leaving. Where should we meet? Where are you now?”
As if on cue, Shinozuka emerged from the building. From his vantage point across the street, Shiiba saw Shinozuka talking on his cell phone, but couldn’t make out his expression. Shinozuka was headed for the subway entrance.
“I’m right across the street, in front of the Justice Building.”
Shinozuka looked in that direction. When he spotted Shiiba, he waved his hand.
“What a surprise!” he said. “Can you come across?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time. I’m about to meet someone,” Shiiba lied. The last place he wanted to go was some fast-food restaurant with bright lights. He didn’t want Shinozuka to see his bruised face.
“I see. Then let’s talk while we walk,” Shinozuka suggested.
Shiiba hesitated. “But…”
“Let’s head toward the Imperial Gardens. There won’t be police officers around at this hour. We can cross paths over the bridge. Here, I’ll go first.”
Shinozuka started walking, and Shiiba soon followed his lead, walking at the same pace on the opposite side of the street.
They passed the Metropolitan Police Building, turned at the Sakurada gate intersection, crossed at the first signal, and finally approached the bridge that led to the Imperial Palace. Shinozuka crossed first and waited for Shiiba.
“Sorry to call you out of the blue like this,” Shiiba apologized.
Shinozuka looked at Shiiba in surprise, but didn’t say anything. Shiiba felt like running away from the questioning look on Shinozuka’s face.
“Want to walk toward Otemachi?” Shinozuka suggested. “Are you okay with your time?”
“Yeah,” Shiiba agreed. “Do you always work this late?”
“Actually, this is a pretty early night for me,” Shinozuka said with a laugh. “How about you? Is everything okay?”
Normally Shiiba would instantly reply that everything was fine, but tonight he hesitated.
“Going through some tough times,” he finally muttered.
“Want to talk about it?” Shinozuka offered. “Might make you feel better. You try to do too much by yourself, Shiiba.”
Moved by the kind words, Shiiba stopped in his tracks. “That’s okay. I feel a little better just seeing you.”
“Likewise,” Shinozuka said with a smile. “You make me forget how tired I am. I think this is the first time you’ve ever been to see me without being invited.”
“Sorry about that,” Shiiba said, but Shinozuka just laughed again.
“Any problems at work?” Shiiba went on.
“Everybody has problems, and I’m no different,” Shinozuka said, sighing. “Asakawa’s setting up a new headquarters and hasn’t come back. Guess all this has been tough on COC5, too.”
Shinozuka probably knew that Shiiba was in the middle of a case, or at least he gave that impression.
“A person like me has another set of worries,” Shinozuka continued. “Whenever it’s time to give orders to my subordinates, I always get scared.”
“Scared? You?” Shiiba said, looking surprised.
Shinozuka smiled. “Yeah, me. What if my orders are wrong? What if a situation can’t be fixed? Sure, I get scared, but I can’t show it, or my men will worry. When I give orders, I try to hide my emotions. It’s probably made me a pretty unpopular boss.”
The image of Shinozuka coldly giving orders to his subordinates was a far cry from the gentle face in front of Shiiba now.
“An organization is like a large rock,” Shinozuka said. “Once it starts rolling, it’s hard to change directions and almost impossible to stop.”
“Do you want to change directions?” Shiiba asked.
Shinozuka shrugged and smiled ruefully. “I used to think I did. Nowadays I just want to clean up the street that the rock is rolling on, so it has a nice, even path. But that perfect world doesn’t exist, of course. My priority right now is to keep my wits about me.”
Shinozuka had his own opinion of the police establishment. When Yukari died, he could have grown disillusioned, but he held his personal feelings in check and kept himself going.
“Remember that painting you gave me as a housewarming gift? I hung it in my room,” Shinozuka said. “I have a lot of Cassigneul’s work, but that one’s my favorite. Did you have any reason for choosing it?”
Shiiba could instantly visualize the painting in great detail. A sad-eyed girl stood on a terrace, bright red flowers blooming at her feet. She wore a wide black hat and a white dress with black polka dots. In the background, a small boat floated on a lake on a lazy summer day.
“One day I passed by a gallery and it caught my eye,” Shiiba admitted. “I don’t know much about art, but I could definitely tell it was a Cassigneul. I remembered that you were a fan, so I bought it. The girl kind of reminded me of Yukari.”
“Really? I thought she looked like you,” Shinozuka said.
Shiiba looked surprised.
“Yukari died tragically, but she was so happy when she was alive,” Shinozuka gently explained. “I loved her bright smile more than anything. But the girl in the painting looks sad. You’ve looked like that ever since Yukari passed away.”
Shinozuka is right, Shiiba thought. Yukari had always been a happy person. It was Shiiba’s memories of her that were sad.
“You can’t run away from the pain, Masaki,” Shinozuka said firmly. “Or your life will just stagnate. There will be more pain in the future. Do you agree?” He gently smiled at Shiiba again. “Do you know the title of the painting?”
Shiiba shook his head.
“It’s called The Lost Dream. Our loved ones can never come back to us. Time has stopped for them, but it keeps on going for those left behind. We have to keep going, too, no matter how much it hurts. That’s our duty to them.” Shinozuka knew Shiiba was still thinking about Nagakura. “Whenever you think you just can’t go on, come to see me again. I’ll always be here for you, and that’s a promise.”
Shinozuka’s kindness made Shiiba feel warm inside. His frozen heart seemed to thaw a little.
“Even if you make a mistake, I’ll still be here,” Shinozuka assured him.
Shiiba felt new courage growing inside him. Though their paths didn’t cross much, this man would always be his friend.
“I’d better hop on the Chiyoda line now. Where are you going?” Shinozuka asked.
“Marunouchi line.”
There was a chilly breeze this spring evening, but Shiiba didn’t even feel the cold. Reluctant to leave each other, the brothers-in-law walked to the station together.
“So why are you here?” Munechika muttered from the sofa.
Piano music filled the room. Shiiba didn’t know the name of the piece, but it sounded melancholy.
“I came to see you,” Shiiba said quietly, approaching him.
“Why?” Munechika asked, putting down his drink.
“I don’t need a reason to see my S. Or do I?” Shiiba replied, making eye contact.
Munechika smiled a little. “Are you a masochist then? I still see your bruises from the other night. Did you come here hoping for more? I can beat you up if you want.”
“Fine. I’m not running away from you again,” Shiiba said defiantly.
Munechika laughed again, but it sounded a little forced. “Really? Even now that you’ve seen the real me?”
“That wasn’t the real you,” Shiiba said firmly. “You don’t get your kicks from mindless violence.”
“Shiiba, violence isn’t mindless,” Munechika retorted. “It’s an action. If you want to hit me, you hit me. That’s all there is to it.”
“Maybe. But that night you were testing me, testing my resolve. Am I right?”
Shiiba had come to that conclusion a few days ago, and was now looking to Munechika for confirmation.
Munechika was quiet for a moment.
“You’re an idiot,” he finally said. “I was just giving you an excuse to leave. This is your last chance to get away from me, Shiiba. Understand?”
“No. All I understand is that I am yours,” Shiiba said softly.
Munechika slowly stood up to face Shiiba. He put his hand under Shiiba’s chin and looked deeply into his eyes.
“This is your last chance,” Munechika repeated. “If you leave now, I won’t follow you. But if you stay, I’ll never let you go. I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth, if necessary…”
Munechika fell silent, but the fire in his eyes still burned. Shiiba started to tremble, feeling lost in Munechika’s powerful gaze.
Normally Shiiba didn’t express his emotions, but this man was a demon. One simple touch of his hand aroused an unquenchable passion in Shiiba.
“Do you still want me to be your S? If you do, you have to make another promise,” Munechika said firmly.
Shiiba clenched his fists. Munechika wasn’t just an S to him. He was a man.
But Shiiba was still a detective, and no matter how deeply he fell in love, he couldn’t forget himself. He was bound and determined not to make the same mistakes Nagakura had done.
“My S is an important partner,” he vowed. “And I’ll never betray him. If my S is in danger, I’ll protect him, put my life on the line for him...”
Munechika listened silently, and then pulled Shiiba close to him. Buried in Munechika’s strong arms, Shiiba’s heart skipped a beat.
“You’re such an idiot…” Munechika whispered.
Shiiba loved this man. No matter what he did, no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t help loving this man. But he locked those feelings deep inside his heart.
Shiiba wasn’t going to betray himself, even if he had to betray his own feelings. He had to stay strong, because love was a sweet illusion that would make him weak. Their relationship would probably grow stronger, but he would grow stronger, too. He would ignore the feelings, chase them away—do anything not to love. That was the only way they could stay together.
If he didn’t love Munechika, then he couldn’t betray him. The two went hand in hand. Shiiba wanted to be strong, but not brittle like before. What he needed was a flexible strength, one that would bend in the breeze, but never snap. That was how he could go on.
But his heart was weak inside. Humans were weak, tragic creatures. They longed for warm arms to hold them.
The faces of the people who had left him floated in Shiiba’s mind. His eyes filled with tears, trying to wash the images away. He had no idea why he was crying now, buried in Munechika’s arms.
“Don’t cry. What’s there to cry about?” Munechika whispered.
“You made me cry. So let me,” Shiiba sobbed.
Munechika kissed the tears that streamed down Shiiba’s face. His caresses felt nice, but they couldn’t stop Shiiba from crying.
Forgive me just this once. Let me be weak. Let me cling to your strength. We can be together for a little while…
“Munechika,” Shiiba whispered. “Sleep with me.”
Munechika pulled Shiiba close.
“I was going to, even if you didn’t ask me,” he said with a smile.
This time, Shiiba took off his clothes himself.
As he grabbed both of Munechika’s hands, their fingers intertwined. They kissed over and over again, fanning the flames of passion. Soon Shiiba was gasping for breath.
Munechika buried his head in Shiiba’s chest and sucked on his nipples, as Shiiba twisted Munechika’s hair between his fingers.
Their last encounter had been so violent, but this time they both craved gentleness.
After a while, Munechika’s lips found Shiiba’s again. Shiiba spread his legs, but to his surprise, Munechika didn’t try to enter him.
“Wh-why aren’t you—?” Shiiba sputtered.
“Do you want me to?” Munechika asked lazily.
“Yes. I want you to. I want to feel you…”
Munechika grabbed his penis and positioned it outside Shiiba’s hole. Finally he pushed himself in. Shiiba moaned, both from pain and satisfaction. He moaned louder with each thrust, sweet music to Munechika’s ears.
“Don’t make so much noise!” Munechika teased. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“You don’t have to…stop…ahhhhh!”
“Idiot! I wanted to savor every minute of it.”
“Who said I wanted to savor it…ahhhhhhh!”
Shiiba wrapped his legs around Munechika, moving his hips in rhythm with him.
“Are you trying to get me to come?” Munechika gasped. He grabbed Shiiba’s legs and pounded into him even harder.
Now Shiiba couldn’t even move, he could only accept Munechika’s cock.
“Ahhhhh…Munechika…”
“Just be good,” Munechika whispered. His penis was deeply inside Shiiba now.
Shiiba was losing himself to his mounting excitement. It felt so good, such pure pleasure.
It also hurt, but Shiiba vowed to ride through the pain. His hesitation had completely vanished. He could finally forgive himself for wanting Munechika like this.
Shiiba’s own penis started to drip. No longer could he hide his shame, his fear, or even his anticipation. Everything was right out there for Munechika to see.
Shiiba grabbed Munechika’s arms, pleading for the end.
“I can’t…I’m coming…ah…ah…ahhhhhh!”
Shiiba soared to oblivion. Munechika grimaced as he ejaculated inside him.
It was like a storm had just passed over them. They didn’t move for a while, just held each other and panted for breath.
Then Munechika pulled out of Shiiba and kissed his head.
“I think you like this now,” he said with a smile.
“The after-glow,” Munechika whispered.
“Tonight I do,” Shiiba admitted.
Shiiba felt that they were finally back to normal, yet something had changed between them. Something had been confirmed.
Munechika nibbled on his neck.
“What are you doing?” Shiiba asked.
“Oh, I forgot. You don’t like love bites,” Munechika said hastily.
“That’s not what I mean,” Shiiba said.
Though Nagakura’s bite marks were still there, they would soon fade. But the mark Nagakura had left on Shiiba’s heart would never go away.
“Your colleague was killed by an Ikkou Society bullet,” Munechika said, holding Shiiba tight.
“Yeah.”
Shiiba had given him the rough details, but Munechika already seemed to know.
“He made a mistake. He fell in love with his S and it destroyed him,” Shiiba said bluntly.
In Nagakura’s case, it had been only a matter of time. Nagakura hated Kunugi, but also hated himself. He was on the path to destruction, and no one could have stopped him.
“It happens. Love destroys people sometimes. Nagakura knew it, but couldn’t stop,” Munechika sighed.
Shiiba sensed Munechika had more to say.
“Have you ever loved somebody like that?” he asked.
Munechika softly stroked Shiiba’s cheek. “Yes.”
Munechika got a faraway look in his eyes. “A long time ago. A long, long time ago.”
Though Munechika held Shiiba in his arms, he was thinking of someone else, someone he had loved before.
Shiiba wondered what kind of person could have captured this man’s heart. Someone he would have ruined himself for…
Shiiba felt something sting in the depths of his heart, but pushed the feeling aside. He didn’t need to know. That was a place he just couldn’t go.
No matter what they did from now on, no matter how much they wanted each other, tonight had been a confirmation. They were still an S and his detective, and so much more.
Some desires will never go away. The desire to keep going. The desire to be strong. The desire to never lose someone.
But even if he had to betray himself, Shiiba would hesitate no longer.
In Munechika’s arms, Shiiba had finally found a home.
Afterword
This book is the continuation of S, Volume One. The previous novel tells how Munechika and Shiiba first met, so please give it a read.
Here are a few tidbits about what went on during this book’s creation. I had so much trouble with the first draft I could barely see straight. Sometimes I felt completely confused, and when something’s not good, you have to fix it. I consulted my editor, and then wrote a second draft that was slightly different.
The character who changed most was Nagakura. Originally he was a big brother-type who blushed whenever he shared his feelings. After the revisions, he became a wisecracking old man with sophisticated (and wicked) intentions! You’ll probably either love him or hate him, but he’s a key person in this book.
As for the two main characters, now that Shiiba has finally acknowledged his feelings for Munechika, their relationship has moved forward a little. But since they haven’t really progressed to “love,” Shiiba still has lots of emotional stress ahead of him. As Shiiba goes through his tribulations, he becomes even more suave and sexy.
My editor gave me lots of advice this time, for which I’m grateful. “Does this sound okay?” I kept asking. “Last time you took out a lot, this time even more! But it still looks good,” my editor gently replied. Oh, you’re so wise…
To all my readers: I received lots of feedback about the first S, and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of you I’ll be writing S, Volume Three next year. I hope Munechika will take on a more active role. Maybe a showdown between two mob bosses? It’s fun to play around with ideas right now.
To Chiharu Nara: thanks so much for your cover art and interior illustrations. I also thank you for showing them to me while they were still works-in-progress. I was moved to see them in their finished state. Your drawings are utterly wonderful. Hope you will grace me with your talent again.
The lovely folks at SHY NOVELS plan to release the next volume in the spring, so see you all then!
