Soon After Okura left…
*****
Back in the hotel room, Kotano sighed, then buried her head into the couch cushions. She was shaking slightly, and cool sweat ran down her brow.
"Dammit, Okura," she gasped, distressed. "How can you take this all so seriously…it's a race, just a race, dammit! There will be others, my love, maybe not as important…but is winning the be all and end all? Do you have to be a racer, at all?"
Kotano sighed deeply. She just could not understand Okura, her fiancée, the man who she lay beside each night, whom she admired, whom she adored, whom she felt a great passion and love towards. It had not been part of the plan for her to fall so desperately in love with him.
The room suddenly felt too hot, even though the hotel provided air-conditioning, Kotano was simply unused to the scorching California summers. She left the couch cautiously; the conversation with Okura had left her feeling weak, feeling powerless. She felt unloved, unimportant, undesired…
Okura was the only man who was able to make Kotano question herself, her charm and her feminine appeal. Other men she was able to manipulate, to do her biddings and to control. With other men, just a glance from behind long lashes would crumble their resistance, and leave them powerless and completely at her mercy. Not Okura, though. He had been the only man to ever run out on her. Oh, cursed fate, which cursed her to love a man she could not understand, a man whom was beyond her reach, her control, and her love…
Kotano recalled the angry, desperate words that Okura had hurled at her before his hasty departure.
{"…This is my life, my dream!"}
{"…Everything that I've worked towards my entire life has been for naught. For naught!"}
{"My whole life will have been for naught!"}
"All he cares about are his stupid races; they consist of his entire life; past, present-and future! His stupid races are more important to him than our relationship, even than our wedding! Without being the champion, the greatest racer, then his life would be meaningless…our relationship, meaningless…
"No," her mind screamed, in excruciating pain, each heartbeat magnified until every time her heart pumped it sounded like a drum was banging in her head. He had to love her, he just had to!
Kotano observed herself in the mirror; she saw a tall, shaking woman with wild blond hair, twisted lingerie in a knot, one pale breast exposed, tear streaked face, pale, bloodless lips.
"Was I crying?" she asked herself, absently touching her face. It was damp and hot. Strange, but she could not remember doing so. How had her hair become so dishevelled? Her face so pale? She couldn't remember…and she could not recognise the girl in the mirror. A stranger…
"No! How dare you make me feel this way! Damn you Okura! Damn you!" She gasped, and saw her reflection do the same. He had done this to her, Okura, that selfish, cruel, thoughtless bastard…that she happened to love. He did not return her feelings, though. All he cared about were his stupid races, and his stupid image, and his stupid pride…she was nothing to him but an accessory, the hottest young model in Japan. Once he tired of her…once her tired of her…
"No! He can't; he won't! I, I, I…I won't let him! I'll keep him, no matter what! I'll do anything to keep him, even if it destroys him, if it destroys us both…"She collapsed, gasping, on the floor. The blood was rushing through her ears, behind her eyes, she felt it emerging up her throat, in her mouth…she heard nothing but her weak body gasping and choking. The room was too silent; she was alone, desperately and eternally alone…
The silence was deafening. She must do something to penetrate it or go mad. In desperation, Kotano grasped Okura's silver medal from the coffee table and threw it at the desperate, gasping, weak girl behind the glass. The mirror shattered with a bang, and a shower of glass littered the hotel room. Kotano rose from the floor wearily, too tired and upset to fathom what she had done, only grateful that the silence had been broken, and her trance with it.
She stepped through the glass, unheeding to the sharp pains that pierced her bare feet. In the morning, she would need to visit the doctor, the soles of her feet would be scared for life…but tonight that did not matter. All that mattered was holding onto Okura, despite the consequences. Kotano opened the mini-bar, and opened a small, ridiculously priced bottle of brandy. The amber liquid burned her already sore throat, but again, it did not matter. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered…except Okura.
"I want to become the wind," Okura breathed as he ran in an unknown direction, towards an unknown destination. Nothing mattered to Okura but the wind caressing his cheek, as soft as a lover, as strong as a tidal wave, as unstoppable as a God. Here Okura felt safe, felt protected by the rustling wind that had become his life. A force so powerful, yet invisible, yet capable of mass destruction. Okura worshipped the wind as others worshiped a God, for to Okura the wind was the highest power. Unstoppable. Unbeatable. Unsurpassable.
"I used to be the wind," he mused while running," I used to be unstoppable, unbeatable, unsurpassable…until Magnussen." Okura spat out his name like bitter medicine, it burned his throat like a shot of hard liquor. "Magnussen…"
"Shit!" Okura cursed. He had fallen, and now lay sprawled on the cold, hard pavement. Stars sparkled above Okura, both in the sky and before his eyes.
"I'm losing it," He muttered, and struggled to stand up. Unbeknownst to Okura, his legs had simply given out on him, and he was out of breath and energy. Dimly Okura remembered running out on Kotano, but little before or after that.
"She's probably worried about me," He pondered, but dismissed the thought. Kotano worried about little other than her appearance or her career. Vaguely he remembered running through the streets and parks of Los Angeles, but nothing permanent or significant stood out in his mind. He glanced at the area around him, and realised with a panic that he was lost. Completely and utterly lost.
"Idiot," He cursed to himself. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so dumb as to become lost in this huge city? A city that he was unaccustomed to, where he did not have enough money for a cab, where he could not speak the language…
"I am so stupid!" Okura searched the pockets of his shorts for money, and looked with a grimace at the odd assortment of foreign coins. He recognised the larger, silver coin with the engraving of an eagle, and began to search for a pay phone.
"Where the hell am I?" Okura wondered. This was a very different area of town from the richer area of where he was accustomed. Litter lined the streets, suspicious individuals roamed the streets, and the buildings were in disrepair. Many of the streetlights were without power, so the streets were dimmer and darker than the other areas of the city. Shadows played rampant on Okura's mind; everything that moved was a threat. He had heard much about the poor condition of American streets, ghettos they called them. He had heard the stories of rape, muggings, murders, drugs, prostitution, and all of these stories came to haunt him as he began to run again, mindless of his aching body.
The images of a laughing, jeering Magnussen with a gold medal around his neck, crept into his consciousness. Okura ran harder to escape, but Magnussen was faster. Okura could simply not outrun him; Magnussen was fast, too fast…
"I have to get out of here, I have to escape…" Okura sped up, the streets becoming a blur, but he could not outrun his growing panic, could not outrun Magnussen…
"Hey, honey, looking for a good time?" A half-drunk, scantily clad woman called to the departing Okura. From the distance, Okura heard her loud, drunken laughter and the laughter of her fellow whores. Although Okura understood little English, her message was loud and clear.
"Please, Lord, help me…"Suddenly exhaustion came over Okura, and he became aware of his aching lungs, ribs and sides. He crumpled to the ground and held his shaking body. His head hurt; he felt like he was about to pass out…but not in this alley! Not in this godforsaken alley where he would be left defenceless against the thugs that lined the streets like vultures. "Please," he pleaded, now he was crying. Okura, Japan's Golden Boy, the hope of his nation, reduced to a desperate, sobbing man alone in an alley. No. It could not end this way for him. It could not…
"Tenou-san? Tenou Okura-san? Is that you?" Called a voice from above him. Strange that Okura could understand this voice, could this person be Japanese?
"Tenou-san! Answer me, Tenou-san!"
Okura lifted his heavy head, and gazed into the anxious face of a young man who looked vaguely familiar. Light brown eyes, longish brown hair, small moustache…a forgettable face, but surely he looked familiar…
"Who…"he groaned, confused as to why this man was bending over him, helping him rise from the cold, dirty pavement. The man supported the dizzy Okura against his shoulder.
"Oh, Tenou-san, I'm not surprised that you don't recognise me," the man answered, blushing. I'm Eguchi Tetsui. I work for Fukuda-san, as a messenger. Pleased to meet you." Eguchi bowed, and then almost lost hold of Okura. He apologized rapidly, but Okura's mind was too tired to process what this fidgety man was saying.
Okura allowed the blustering, embarrassed man to lead him towards his large black car, and place him in the back seat. He knew he was safe with Eguchi, for Fukuda was his manager. Okura inhaled the expensive car smell, and lay his aching head on the soft, firm headrest of the seat. Dimly he heard the exited, anxious voice of Eguchi, but Okura could not make out what the nervous man was saying. How Eguchi had found him in the middle of a Los Angeles ghetto was anyone's guess. Okura was just grateful that he came along when he did. Otherwise…
"Tenou-san? I'll just be driving us to Fukuda-san's hotel suite…Tenou-san? Is everything alright…do you need anything to drink…do you want me to call your wife…do you want me to…
"I'll just rest my eyes…"Okura whispered, enjoying the feel of the smooth leather against his sweaty face, the feel of the interior against his back, the pleasant cool of the air-conditioner. "Just for a moment…"
"Tenou-san? Did you say something? Do you need anything? Tenou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice slowly faded away, and all that Okura could hear was the steady, pleasant hum of the air-conditioning.
Okura closed his eyes, just for a moment-and drifted off into unconsciousness…
To be continued… (I forgot to write this after my last segment…hope I didn't confuse anyone. By the way, this story is a work in progress, in case anyone is wondering. I'll get to Haruka soon enough…just want to establish a mood)
*****
Back in the hotel room, Kotano sighed, then buried her head into the couch cushions. She was shaking slightly, and cool sweat ran down her brow.
"Dammit, Okura," she gasped, distressed. "How can you take this all so seriously…it's a race, just a race, dammit! There will be others, my love, maybe not as important…but is winning the be all and end all? Do you have to be a racer, at all?"
Kotano sighed deeply. She just could not understand Okura, her fiancée, the man who she lay beside each night, whom she admired, whom she adored, whom she felt a great passion and love towards. It had not been part of the plan for her to fall so desperately in love with him.
The room suddenly felt too hot, even though the hotel provided air-conditioning, Kotano was simply unused to the scorching California summers. She left the couch cautiously; the conversation with Okura had left her feeling weak, feeling powerless. She felt unloved, unimportant, undesired…
Okura was the only man who was able to make Kotano question herself, her charm and her feminine appeal. Other men she was able to manipulate, to do her biddings and to control. With other men, just a glance from behind long lashes would crumble their resistance, and leave them powerless and completely at her mercy. Not Okura, though. He had been the only man to ever run out on her. Oh, cursed fate, which cursed her to love a man she could not understand, a man whom was beyond her reach, her control, and her love…
Kotano recalled the angry, desperate words that Okura had hurled at her before his hasty departure.
{"…This is my life, my dream!"}
{"…Everything that I've worked towards my entire life has been for naught. For naught!"}
{"My whole life will have been for naught!"}
"All he cares about are his stupid races; they consist of his entire life; past, present-and future! His stupid races are more important to him than our relationship, even than our wedding! Without being the champion, the greatest racer, then his life would be meaningless…our relationship, meaningless…
"No," her mind screamed, in excruciating pain, each heartbeat magnified until every time her heart pumped it sounded like a drum was banging in her head. He had to love her, he just had to!
Kotano observed herself in the mirror; she saw a tall, shaking woman with wild blond hair, twisted lingerie in a knot, one pale breast exposed, tear streaked face, pale, bloodless lips.
"Was I crying?" she asked herself, absently touching her face. It was damp and hot. Strange, but she could not remember doing so. How had her hair become so dishevelled? Her face so pale? She couldn't remember…and she could not recognise the girl in the mirror. A stranger…
"No! How dare you make me feel this way! Damn you Okura! Damn you!" She gasped, and saw her reflection do the same. He had done this to her, Okura, that selfish, cruel, thoughtless bastard…that she happened to love. He did not return her feelings, though. All he cared about were his stupid races, and his stupid image, and his stupid pride…she was nothing to him but an accessory, the hottest young model in Japan. Once he tired of her…once her tired of her…
"No! He can't; he won't! I, I, I…I won't let him! I'll keep him, no matter what! I'll do anything to keep him, even if it destroys him, if it destroys us both…"She collapsed, gasping, on the floor. The blood was rushing through her ears, behind her eyes, she felt it emerging up her throat, in her mouth…she heard nothing but her weak body gasping and choking. The room was too silent; she was alone, desperately and eternally alone…
The silence was deafening. She must do something to penetrate it or go mad. In desperation, Kotano grasped Okura's silver medal from the coffee table and threw it at the desperate, gasping, weak girl behind the glass. The mirror shattered with a bang, and a shower of glass littered the hotel room. Kotano rose from the floor wearily, too tired and upset to fathom what she had done, only grateful that the silence had been broken, and her trance with it.
She stepped through the glass, unheeding to the sharp pains that pierced her bare feet. In the morning, she would need to visit the doctor, the soles of her feet would be scared for life…but tonight that did not matter. All that mattered was holding onto Okura, despite the consequences. Kotano opened the mini-bar, and opened a small, ridiculously priced bottle of brandy. The amber liquid burned her already sore throat, but again, it did not matter. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered…except Okura.
"I want to become the wind," Okura breathed as he ran in an unknown direction, towards an unknown destination. Nothing mattered to Okura but the wind caressing his cheek, as soft as a lover, as strong as a tidal wave, as unstoppable as a God. Here Okura felt safe, felt protected by the rustling wind that had become his life. A force so powerful, yet invisible, yet capable of mass destruction. Okura worshipped the wind as others worshiped a God, for to Okura the wind was the highest power. Unstoppable. Unbeatable. Unsurpassable.
"I used to be the wind," he mused while running," I used to be unstoppable, unbeatable, unsurpassable…until Magnussen." Okura spat out his name like bitter medicine, it burned his throat like a shot of hard liquor. "Magnussen…"
"Shit!" Okura cursed. He had fallen, and now lay sprawled on the cold, hard pavement. Stars sparkled above Okura, both in the sky and before his eyes.
"I'm losing it," He muttered, and struggled to stand up. Unbeknownst to Okura, his legs had simply given out on him, and he was out of breath and energy. Dimly Okura remembered running out on Kotano, but little before or after that.
"She's probably worried about me," He pondered, but dismissed the thought. Kotano worried about little other than her appearance or her career. Vaguely he remembered running through the streets and parks of Los Angeles, but nothing permanent or significant stood out in his mind. He glanced at the area around him, and realised with a panic that he was lost. Completely and utterly lost.
"Idiot," He cursed to himself. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so dumb as to become lost in this huge city? A city that he was unaccustomed to, where he did not have enough money for a cab, where he could not speak the language…
"I am so stupid!" Okura searched the pockets of his shorts for money, and looked with a grimace at the odd assortment of foreign coins. He recognised the larger, silver coin with the engraving of an eagle, and began to search for a pay phone.
"Where the hell am I?" Okura wondered. This was a very different area of town from the richer area of where he was accustomed. Litter lined the streets, suspicious individuals roamed the streets, and the buildings were in disrepair. Many of the streetlights were without power, so the streets were dimmer and darker than the other areas of the city. Shadows played rampant on Okura's mind; everything that moved was a threat. He had heard much about the poor condition of American streets, ghettos they called them. He had heard the stories of rape, muggings, murders, drugs, prostitution, and all of these stories came to haunt him as he began to run again, mindless of his aching body.
The images of a laughing, jeering Magnussen with a gold medal around his neck, crept into his consciousness. Okura ran harder to escape, but Magnussen was faster. Okura could simply not outrun him; Magnussen was fast, too fast…
"I have to get out of here, I have to escape…" Okura sped up, the streets becoming a blur, but he could not outrun his growing panic, could not outrun Magnussen…
"Hey, honey, looking for a good time?" A half-drunk, scantily clad woman called to the departing Okura. From the distance, Okura heard her loud, drunken laughter and the laughter of her fellow whores. Although Okura understood little English, her message was loud and clear.
"Please, Lord, help me…"Suddenly exhaustion came over Okura, and he became aware of his aching lungs, ribs and sides. He crumpled to the ground and held his shaking body. His head hurt; he felt like he was about to pass out…but not in this alley! Not in this godforsaken alley where he would be left defenceless against the thugs that lined the streets like vultures. "Please," he pleaded, now he was crying. Okura, Japan's Golden Boy, the hope of his nation, reduced to a desperate, sobbing man alone in an alley. No. It could not end this way for him. It could not…
"Tenou-san? Tenou Okura-san? Is that you?" Called a voice from above him. Strange that Okura could understand this voice, could this person be Japanese?
"Tenou-san! Answer me, Tenou-san!"
Okura lifted his heavy head, and gazed into the anxious face of a young man who looked vaguely familiar. Light brown eyes, longish brown hair, small moustache…a forgettable face, but surely he looked familiar…
"Who…"he groaned, confused as to why this man was bending over him, helping him rise from the cold, dirty pavement. The man supported the dizzy Okura against his shoulder.
"Oh, Tenou-san, I'm not surprised that you don't recognise me," the man answered, blushing. I'm Eguchi Tetsui. I work for Fukuda-san, as a messenger. Pleased to meet you." Eguchi bowed, and then almost lost hold of Okura. He apologized rapidly, but Okura's mind was too tired to process what this fidgety man was saying.
Okura allowed the blustering, embarrassed man to lead him towards his large black car, and place him in the back seat. He knew he was safe with Eguchi, for Fukuda was his manager. Okura inhaled the expensive car smell, and lay his aching head on the soft, firm headrest of the seat. Dimly he heard the exited, anxious voice of Eguchi, but Okura could not make out what the nervous man was saying. How Eguchi had found him in the middle of a Los Angeles ghetto was anyone's guess. Okura was just grateful that he came along when he did. Otherwise…
"Tenou-san? I'll just be driving us to Fukuda-san's hotel suite…Tenou-san? Is everything alright…do you need anything to drink…do you want me to call your wife…do you want me to…
"I'll just rest my eyes…"Okura whispered, enjoying the feel of the smooth leather against his sweaty face, the feel of the interior against his back, the pleasant cool of the air-conditioner. "Just for a moment…"
"Tenou-san? Did you say something? Do you need anything? Tenou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice slowly faded away, and all that Okura could hear was the steady, pleasant hum of the air-conditioning.
Okura closed his eyes, just for a moment-and drifted off into unconsciousness…
To be continued… (I forgot to write this after my last segment…hope I didn't confuse anyone. By the way, this story is a work in progress, in case anyone is wondering. I'll get to Haruka soon enough…just want to establish a mood)