Chapter Eight – Magic Loss Sex

(Yamagata, Kai, Tetsuo, Kaori, Kaneda © Katsuhiro Otomo.)

It was raining.  Yamagata lay back on the couch, and listened to it rattle against the walls.  His clothes were damp and itchy, and his hair dripped down the back of his neck.

            The day had been quite sunny earlier – and they'd gone riding – and then the downpour had started, spits turning to torrents.  But they'd kept riding, skidding through Clown turf, scribbling over Clown tags, smashing Clown heads. 

            That had been good.  But now he was cold, and wet, and tired.  Grazes hung on his skin, and a shiver ran through his body, and he wished Kaneda's dorm could scrape to having proper central heating.

            Kaneda himself had gone off to find a drink in the kitchen.  Yamagata didn't exactly mind.  He could lie here and watch the wrestling, his mind groggy, sounds dim and quiet around it.

            Not that he didn't like Kaneda or anything. 

            It had been three weeks since Kai had vanished.  And Yamagata didn't mind, didn't care, because he did like Kaneda and knew he'd done the right thing with Kai.  The guy was practically a menace to society.  Their society, anyway.       

            But.

            If something had actually happened to Kai…something bad…

            No.  He wouldn't think like that.

            Damp footsteps as Kaneda walked into the room, holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, his hair flat against his head like a woolly hat.  He sat down, sipped his drink, then placed it on the floor next to them, and stretched out. 

            Then he picked up the remote control, and flicked channels until he came to some dumb teeny-bopper warbling out a love crisis song.

            "Hey, I was watching that," Yamagata said.

            "Yeah, but this is way cooler."  Kaneda grinned as the singer crouched down at the front of the stage.  "That's right, honey…just a little further…"

            "So she has tits.  Big deal.  I was watching the wrestling."

            "No, you weren't.  You had that comatose look on your face that means you weren't concentrating."

            "Yes I was!"  Yamagata grabbed the remote and flicked it back to the wrestling.

            "Oh, quit being a brat.  You're acting like you're seven."  Kaneda grabbed the remote back, and hopped to the singer.

            "You're acting like you're eleven, and only just found out girls exist."  Yamagata grabbed the remote again.  "We're watching the damn wrestling!"

            "What is with you?"  Kaneda was looking at him with that you're-a-freak face on.  "It's only a dumb programme.  Fine, we'll watch wrestling."

            Yamagata folded his arms, and tried to focus on the screen.  But the irritation scratching away at him – like he'd swallowed sand – meant he couldn't focus on it properly.  And it was even worse because he knew he didn't really care about the programme, he wouldn't even mind watching the teeny-bopper and sneering at her, but it had suddenly got way too important.

            Kaneda was glowering, Yamagata could feel it.  The air was even colder now.  Eventually Kaneda picked up his drink, took a long slurp from it, and then said, "What's your problem, anyway?"

            "I don't have a damn problem."

            "You sulk all the time.  I just do stuff and you act like I rode your bike into a wall or something.  Why don't you get over it any more?"

            "Maybe I'm sick of you acting like a selfish jerk."

            "Hey, I'm not a jerk!"  Kaneda studied him a moment, then gave him his love-me grin, and wriggled closer to him, resting his head on Yamagata's shoulder.  "Come on, Yama-kun.  You know me."

            Yamagata didn't answer.  This was hopeless.  He was wrong, Kaneda was right, he was overreacting.  But that didn't change the fact he wanted to rub the other guy's face into the dirt.  Thoughts sour as mouldy fruit juice.  It wouldn't be so bad if he'd ever admit he was wrong and I was right.  Thinks he's such a big shot, why the hell should I act like he's wonderful?

            "Shut up," he snapped.  "Just shut up and let me watch this."

            "Ooh, touchy."

            "I said shut up."

            "And since when did I do what you say?" 

            Kaneda didn't even sound angry, and that just made it worse.  He had that laughing, flirting tone to his voice that had once been a turn-on and was now just a big pain in the ass.         

            "Since never.  That's why you're driving me nuts."

            He wanted Kaneda to get mad.  To storm off and sulk and ride out into the rain and leave him alone –

            Or maybe he could storm out.  Grab his bike and ride off and go kill someone.  The irritation wasn't like sand any more, it was like thorns, twisting round his ribs and jabbing at his lungs.  How could you relax when you had that in your chest? 

            And you had to relax when you were snuggled up with your boyfriend in front of crap TV. 

            No.  He wouldn't walk out.

            You don't have the guts.

            He sighed, and sank down into the couch.  It stank of stale biscuits, old crumbs, dust.  The smell pinched the back of his throat.

            You don't have the guts.  You don't want to admit you made the wrong choice.

            There was no choice, he snapped at his mind.  I don't like Kai.  And he don't like me.  And he's got enough people to screw without me adding myself to the list. 

            If he's all right.

            Yamagata swallowed as icy thoughts spilt over his brain.  Kai hadn't walked out and killed himself.  He wouldn't have done.  He wouldn't. 

            If he has, it's your fault…

            But he's not dead.  He's not.  I won't let him be.   

            Great.  Kai had got into his head again.  Yamagata shook himself, trying to get rid of him.

            Kaneda was watching him, still smiling, and then he leaned forward and kissed him.

            "You look cute when you've got too many thoughts," he said.

            "Shut up –"

            "You shut up," Kaneda said, and kissed him again, and started reaching up under his T-shirts.

            The building seemed empty; all Yamagata could hear was the rain and the faint faraway yelling of the TV.  So they'd screw each other.  And then they'd lie curled up, and Kaneda would have a huge smirk on his dumb face because he'd think just making someone come made everything okay again when it didn't.  Yeah.  They'd grope and twist on this couch soft as rotten apples, or on Kaneda's bed which was always clammy and groaned with broken springs, and the stench of crumbs and dust and Kaneda would be rubbed into his skin. 

***

So that was what happened.

***

Afterwards he rode through the needle-sharp rain, and wished he was pissed out of his skull.  Then he wouldn't have to look at the world any more.

            Kai's dorm was lurking on the corner.  All he did was glance at it.         

            And once he'd looked, he'd stopped.  And then it seemed dumb to just sit in the rain, so he parked his bike in the yard and ducked under the porch and stared up at the dented, darkening sky.

            And it was cold outside.  So what else could he do? 

            He banged on the door and said he was there to see Kai. 

            "He ain't been home for weeks," the guy who opened the door said. 

            "Well – well, I said I'd pick up some stuff for him.  You know me, don't you?  You seen me around with him."

            "Yeah, I guess.  Whatever."

            The hallway was dark and the air was tired and rainy.  Yamagata slunk through the dimness and up the three flights of stairs, his footsteps echoing past cold corridors.  Room after room.  Tangled beds and mustard-coloured blinds; patches of damp; cheap second-hand (stolen) hi-fis; mildewed magazines; rain-light pulsing gently on the walls.

            And there was the door to Kai's room.

            Suddenly his heart was pounding.  What if he opened it and found Kai dead on the floor or something –

            Don't be dumb.  Just do it.

            He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

            Same as always.  Battered blind swinging against the rainy window.  Bike magazines scattered across the floor.  Tangled sheets on a rickety bed.  Everything tinted grey by the twilight rain.

            The air was cold, and the room smelt like the inside of an old, unopened suitcase.

            No.  Kai hadn't come back here either.

            So where the hell was he? 

            He's not dead he can't be dead I won't let him be dead –

            His thoughts were panicking, tripping over their own feet.  He tried to ignore them. 

            The small cupboard was half-empty.  A few shirts hung there, but most of the coat hangers were bare, they rattled as he opened the door.  He didn't know how many clothes Kai had, but he had a feeling it was more than these.  If Kai had come to take his clothes, that had to be good.  Didn't it?

            Had he gone to live on the streets? 

            Or with someone else?

            Probably selling his ass in some backstreet.  So who cares?

            I care –

            He'd thought that without meaning to.  He pretended he hadn't heard it.

            There were bloodstains – old, like burn marks – across the bare floor.  Yamagata stared at them, frowning, wondering if they meant anything.  It wasn't enough blood for a murder. 

            Probably he just slit his finger on a bedspring. 

            There was nothing else in the room that told him anything.  So eventually he sat down in the chair by the rainy window, and just watched.  It was just another care-home room, just like the dozens he'd lived in for most of his life.  They didn't remember you.  This room couldn't give him anything of Kai because Kai had stayed no longer than anyone else would've.

            Why do you care?

            Because – because –

            I miss him and I just want to see him, is that so wrong?

            That thought hurt.  He tried to pretend it didn't.

            He'd said I think you're fucking stupid…

            Anyone that dumb – you just have to give 'em a damn wake-up call!  If he didn't like doing it, why did he do it?  Pathetic.

            What had he said?  Go and find your pimp or something…if Kai did have someone like that (a weird thought, like putting his friend into a bad soap opera) then that someone mightn't be letting him quit.

            But he'd screwed Kaori, and that was stupid, that was getting tangled up with other people's lives.  He shouldn't have done it.

            Just cos he's being stupid don't mean you have to act all high-and-mighty at him.  You done some dumb stuff too.  None of the guys got on your case so why're you getting on his?

            Yamagata sighed.  Maybe the dream-Kai was right.  You're angry because you want to fuck me and every guy in the city got there first.    

            He didn't want dream-Kai to be right.  That was embarrassing if he was.  That made Yamagata look really desperate.

            He turned the chair round, and stared out of the window.  There was the edge of the yard – he could just see the dust-sheet over Kai's bike – and then there was Neo-Tokyo, looming dark shapes in the rain clouds, specks of streetlamp starting to spatter the dampness.

            Kai must've looked out here once or twice.  Now he could be out there.  In the rain in a cardboard box somewhere.  Or watching it from another window, somewhere else, far away…

            The window was one of those where you could slide down the upper half, which was held in place with a catch.  Yamagata stared at the catch for some time before he noticed it was an odd shape.  Slowly it began to kick at his mind until he reached out to it, and saw the note tucked behind it, between the two halves of the window.

            He pulled the note free.  The lower edge was soggy and disintegrated over his fingers, but the rest of it was dry.  He unfolded it and stared down at the faded writing.

            I hate you and I don't need you so fine, I'll leave.  I don't need you Yamagata.  I don't need any of you. 

            You won't even read this.  I don't want you to because I don't want to see you again.  But if you do then –

           

It was Kai's scribbled writing.  And below it was an address.  Sixty-one, Blue Orchid Street, Seventeenth District. 

            Yamagata did a silent victory dance before shoving the note into his pocket, and dashing out of the room and down the stairs.

***

Tetsuo lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, and remembering.

            Hiding round the back of the adventure playground, where the brambles grew and scratched his legs, where the fence was rusty and left smears of red across the back of his T-shirt.

            Had he been crying?

            He'd been hiding.  Kaneda had been in detention or something, not there, anyway, and the rest of the kids were bored.

            Footsteps, the fence rattled as someone squeezed past it.

            But it was all right.  Only her.

            Stop watching me all the time!

            That little girl with big brown eyes.  Hurt eyes, torn with sadness.

            I – I'm sorry.

            And quickly she'd lowered her eyes to the ground, to her grubby white socks and dusty strap shoes.

            It was the first time anyone in that place had ever done what he'd said.

            What do you want?

            She chewed on the skin of one of her fingers, still not looking.  She was clutching a plastic bag, and now she held it out to him.

            What is it?

            She knelt down on the ground, and took out of the bag a jar of sweets.

            Cheap, sour boiled sweets, individually wrapped in twists of sticky white paper.

            My grandma sent them.  I thought – I thought you might –

            She opened the jar, and held it out to him.

            The strawberry ones are yummy.  The lemon ones make me feel sick, though –

            Maybe it was a trick.  He frowned.

            They're nice, look!

            She took one, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.

            Don't you have any friends? he asked.  Why are you giving 'em to me? 

            She pushed the sweet into her cheek for a moment, and shook her head.  The other girls laugh at me.  They'd say no one should eat them. 

            Why?

            She blushed, and he suddenly realised he was going to have to hear about how everyone was mean, and then maybe she'd start crying or something, and run off, and he wouldn't get a sweet after all.  So he snatched one, tore the paper off and shoved it into his mouth – it wasn't strawberry or lemon but orange – sour on his tongue, and the surface was cracked.

            She smiled as if she'd been waiting for him to score a winning goal or something, and watched him sucking it, and slowly slid a little closer to him and leant against the fence.

            Why are you round here? she asked.

            I want to be, okay?  Stop being so nosy all the time.  But he was focusing more on trying to bite the sweet in half, so the sentence was thrown back without any real nastiness.

            Suddenly he realised she might think he was as pathetic as she was, so he said quickly, I've got friends.  I just like it here.

            Okay.

            What's your name, anyway?

            Kaori.  You're Tetsuo.

            He nodded. 

            They sat in silence until the bag of sweets had been half-emptied.  She didn't want to chat like most girls did.  She just sat looking at little things, like the paint flaking off the fence, or an ant crawling past her foot, or a loose thread on her skirt.  It made sense to him.  She was there to share her sweets.  Not to talk.  Every time she came to a strawberry one, she gave it to him. 

            You'd better not stay around here, he said, when he'd decided he'd had enough sweets.  His mouth felt overripe, and as coated as if he'd eaten varnish.  People might think you're my girlfriend.

            She giggled. 

            It's not funny!  She might turn into a normal girl, whisper and tell everyone they'd been kissing or something, and then everyone would laugh – not like they didn't already –

            Sorry!  No, I won't tell, I promise.  She got to her feet.  Grit was clinging to her legs.

            And then she was scurrying away, a gawky, scruffy figure against the sunlight.

***

Kaori with Kai?  Laughing with him?  I won't tell, I promise?

            Kaori was his girlfriend!  Kaori had always followed him around and looked sadly after him and been easy to make cry and waited for him after every class and let him kiss her and put his hands under her shirt, and, that night…

            The night of the day when Kaneda had said guess what I did, and Tetsuo and Yamagata and Kai had listened, half-fascinated, half-grossed out –

            Tetsuo scowled.

            That night when he'd been almost as nervous as she was, she'd let him inside her and they'd lain there pretending it was fun…

            Had she had to pretend with Kai?

            Kaneda was a liar, and he boasted about everything, and Tetsuo knew it. 

            Didn't stop you wondering about what exactly was truth.

            She loved it, Kaneda always said.  She was begging me by the end, not to leave her, to do it again.

            Kaori had never begged.

            Did she beg Kai?

            When they were together, Kaori gritted her teeth and clutched his shoulders, Kaori watched his face so closely, Kaori snuggled against his chest afterwards and she'd never seemed to care she wasn't doing it like girls were meant to, shrieking and sweating and arching her back like they did in films.

            So she went to someone else, didn't she!  She damn well paid someone else!

            But how could he – how could he –

            Kai, so quiet, such a kid, Kai shorter than the rest of them since whenever, Kai who had crushes on people, Kai who was happy to follow and never wanted to lead –

            Kai who has people pay him so must know what he's doing.

            That voice in his head sounded like Kaneda.  It always did. 

            Three weeks on now and Kai was gone, for good hopefully, and Kaori wouldn't do anything else. 

            Would she?               

            Kaori was his!  Kaori had always been his!  She was sappy about him!  She was the person who loved him!

            Why would anyone love you, you're such a moron.  And anyone could make you cry, remember?  And Mummy and Daddy weren't ever there to do anything, no one ever wanted you in their family, so why should she be any different?

            No! 

            He sat up, wincing as the blood hummed dizzily through his head.

            He wouldn't let her.

            He'd show everyone he was just as good as them.  He could make girls come running just as much.

            Make her come running, anyway.

            Make her come?  I don't think so.

            Shut up, Kaneda.

            Somehow he'd show them all. 

            Sometime.  It was only midday and what could he do in the daylight?

            He'd wait.  He'd wait until he could show them all.

***

The sky was grey, but behind it the sun spilt dull yellow light over the city, and the air was sticky and wet.  It was one a.m.

            Yamagata kept touching Kai's note in his pocket.  He could feel the paper rustle under his fingers.  Comforting to know he still had it.  But his stomach ached if he tried to make a decision.

            He touched the note now.  He could go find the place – or he could…not. 

            He could walk out of school.  Wouldn't be so hard; the teacher was absent and had been for half an hour at the last count.  Just get up, and stride through the classroom, and out into the corridor and down to the main door and out of the school gates and into the city.  Easy.

            So why wasn't he doing it?

            "What's wrong with you?" Kaneda asked.  "You're really twitchy."

            "I'm not damn twitchy.  I'm just – uh –"

            "Horny?"

            "Can you forget about sex for one goddamn minute?"

            "Nope."  Kaneda raised his eyebrows, and grinned as Yamagata glared at him.  "Come on.  Don't get all touchy on me again.  Geez, I figured it had to be good going with a guy because you never had to put up with PMT…" 

            Yamagata didn't bother to answer.  They needed Tetsuo and Kai.  Because Tetsuo was Kaneda's best friend, and Kai was (had been?) his, so it meant that he and Kaneda hadn't had to talk to each other all the time, even when they'd started going out.  Now Kai was…somewhere else (in some murky place in the Seventeenth District, you know that, you could go find him any time) and Tetsuo was sulking on his own all the time, so there was no one to distract him and Kaneda.  They had to focus on each other because there was no one else.

            And now he was focusing on Kaneda too much and he didn't like him any more because he could see what a jerk the guy was.  And how he always had to be in control all the time.  How it always had to be the movie that he'd chosen.  The time easiest for him.  Him talking, him going first, him on top…

            You're just like that too, Yamagata's mind pointed out.  He ignored it.  The point was, he wasn't a stupid little bimbo who'd fall into Kaneda's arms for a few smiles and sappy remarks.

            And Kaneda didn't like it.  At the moment he was joking around, trying to get Yamagata to not be annoyed any more, but sooner or later he'd get sick of it all and make himself scarce.

            You could stop that happening.  You could try and make up.  You could apologise or summat. 

            Or you could go find someone else first, some – some girl –   

            No. 

            Well, some guy –

            Like who?

            Okay, you think of something.

            I have thought of something, Yamagata said silently, and smiled as he did so. 

            You can't go out with Kai.

            I never said I was gonna go out with him! 

            A lie.  Already several X-rated dream sequences were writhing at the back of his mind.  But he was ignoring those.  Pretty much.

            You don't want to find him.  He's an idiot.  He's a pervert.  He's trouble.  He'll just make you mad.

            Anyway, you're still with Kaneda.

            Oh yeah.  And if he didn't do something about him and Kaneda, very soon they wouldn't even be friends, let alone going out.

            And he should really leave Kai alone.  Going to find him would just screw everything up.  He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but he could feel it, a big fat knot in his life getting closer and closer.

            "Yamagata?"

            He blinked, and looked round at Kaneda.  "What?"

            "You mad with me or something?"

            I've been mad with you all week, you dumb moron, you can't be that interested if you didn't even notice –

            He should smile, and shake his head, and let Kaneda kiss him in a deserted corner of the playground when the lesson ended.

            How – schoolgirlishYamagata shuddered.         

            "Cos if you're not…"  Kaneda wriggled closer to him.  "I see a teacher who's walked out on us, and there's loads of places in this school two people can have fun…"

            "I can't," Yamagata said.  "I got – something else to do."

            "Like what?"

***

Like riding to the Seventeenth District and searching for a certain street…

            The sky was still grey, but the air had got thin and hot, and walking through it was like being wrapped in a flannel.  Yamagata's clothes were sticking to him, and his socks were wet from the water that had seeped through his boots.  The air smelt muddy.

            Neo-Tokyo had once been neat.  Freshly built, a city made not grown.  But now new houses were filling its gaps.  Small streets were growing thicker, choked with rotten-smelling shadows, and riding was the only way to make sure you weren't eaten alive.  Gang graffiti wrestled itself across the walls.  Some scruffy kids whispered round a dead cat, watching out of the corners of their eyes as he passed by.

            And here was the house.  Tall, peeling brickwork, grubby frosted glass.  Didn't look any different from any others.  Maybe it wasn't.  Maybe Kai was stringing him along with a fake address.

            No.  This had to be the right place.  Had to be.  He wanted to see Kai so much.  He'd got up the courage to come looking – he'd built this up – Kai had to be here, he had to be.

            He walked up the damp, cracked steps and rang the doorbell, then stood there, kicking at the wall, sending up little spats of red dust. 

            The door – painted a dull reddish-pink, like old sunburn – swung open, and a tall guy in a dressing gown blinked down at him.  "Who the hell are you?  It's eleven o'clock in the damn morning.  We're not open –"

            "I figured that."  Yamagata folded his arms, and glowered up at the guy.  Shit, he hated being shorter than people.  "I'm just looking for a friend.  He told me to come to this address."

            "Oh, yeah?  What's his name?"

            Yamagata said it, already hating this guy, feeling like he'd just been slapped or had his hair ruffled or something else that usually made him punch someone.

            "Oh, him.  Yeah, he's around.  Why'd you want to see him?"

            "I told ya.  He's a friend."

            "Oh yeah, is that a friend or a 'friend'?"

            "No!"  Yamagata felt himself blush, and angry about it, said, "Look, he left – got here about three weeks ago – and I wanted to catch up on old times.  That's it."

            "All right.  Come in.  And your name?"

            "Why the hell you want to know?"

            "Company policy," the guy said.  "Makes it easier for us."

            The hallway floor was covered in strips of peeling carpet, which flapped feebly up a thin flight of stairs and away into the shadows of the landing.  The air was thicker in here, and hotter, and smelt of smoke, noodles, hair spray.

            "Go on up.  He's the second room along."

            "I get it."

            "And keep it down or you'll be out on your ass."

            "Whatever."

            Yamagata started to climb the stairs, fighting down the urge to peel the flaking wallpaper off the walls as he passed because it was a nervous habit and he wasn't nervous. 

            Even if his heart was beating so heavily it felt like someone was sitting on his chest.

            Maybe he should just leave.  Go back to thinking about Kai.  Thinking was easier than actually seeing –

            But he was damned if he was gonna turn round with that guy watching.  Besides, if he went back he'd have to put up with Kaneda some more and then he might just have a heart attack from irritation.

            The stairs creaked loudly, the sound tearing through the silent air.  Yamagata didn't like this place.  It reminded him of all the children's homes he'd ever been in – and there had been a lot – places where people didn't stay, one-month, one-week, one-night places.  He'd never liked sitting around waiting for it to get dark.  This place stank of waiting, of long afternoons, of bad TV, of nothingness.

            He could never have run off here without a bike.  He'd be barking by now.  But then, Kai had spent three months bikeless sitting at home in the evenings with no friends.

            So he'd started selling himself to break up the boredom?

            Yamagata sighed.  He should've found that kind of funny, but he didn't.  He just felt like smacking Kai across the room for being dumb.  

            He was just reaching the first door when it clicked open.  Feeling suddenly like he was sneaking around somewhere he shouldn't be, he froze.

            A tall guy with hair dyed deep purple walked out, wrapped in a bathrobe.  He passed Yamagata and sauntered towards the stairs – then stopped, looked back, and gave him a look – a cool, seductive look.  The whole move reminded him vaguely of Kaneda's flirt techniques, but it was a lot more controlled.

            Yamagata blushed again, and scowled at him. 

            The guy grinned, and walked away down the stairs.

            Suddenly angry, Yamagata marched onwards to the second door, and wrenched it open.

            Small.  A dusty, rust-spattered mirror on one wall, a dying-leaf-coloured carpet grubby beneath his feet.  The air was even warmer here, sleepy air, trying to pull his eyes closed.  More peeling wallpaper, pale blue, glowing in the odd sunlight seeping through the small window in the corner.

            Kai lay curled up in the bed in the centre of the room.  The sheet was tangled round his lower half.  One arm supported his head, the other was half-hidden in the sheet.

            Yamagata stepped closer –

            He's not dead.  He's not.  Oh thank you God.

            – and sat down on the bed next to him.  The springs groaned and twanged deep in the mattress, and Kai stirred slightly, but then just yawned and stayed sleeping. 

            He was wearing a T-shirt and boxers, and then over that, for some reason, he had his jacket.  His eyes were shadowed, like someone had brushed under each of them with a dusty finger.  His dark hair was tangled, slipped out of its normal side parting, and Yamagata found himself wanting to stroke it.

            I could do anything to him and no one would know, no one would care –

            And he wanted to, to kiss him, to touch him, to undress him and pull the sheet over them both – that wouldn't be dull, not like Kaneda screwing him had become – it'd be different – and he yearned for it, a tight, desperate choking behind his ribs –

            He leant down, tilted Kai's face to his, and kissed him.  For a moment Kai was still, then he began to kiss back, his eyes still closed.

            Hardly believing this could work, Yamagata kissed Kai again, and put an arm round his shoulders, and stroked the back of his neck, where his hairline began, soft against Yamagata's fingers.  Kai shifted, and lifted his head a little, and the arm he'd been resting it on came up and round Yamagata and pulled him down nearer to the warm, rumpled sheets, and Yamagata stopped stressing about everything and dived into the kisses, closed his eyes and swam in the heat and the sparks wrapping round him –

            Then Kai turned his head away, and at the same time Yamagata felt a thin sharpness pressing against his throat.

            "I don't believe you paid," Kai whispered.  One arm clutched Yamagata round his shoulders, the other hand held the scalpel which brushed his jugular.  "And I don't give freebies."