The figure of a broken woman lay sprawled across the large bed, not quite awake, not quite asleep, but somewhere in between. The window was open; a slight breeze blew across the room, rustling her long blond hair. Her slight, scantily clad body shook slightly from what might have been the cool breeze, but a glance at her face proved otherwise.
Her beautiful face was pale, and streaked with the residue of tears. Her lips were a sharp contrast to her face; bright, almost blood red. Her eyes were half shut and surrounded in shadows, but her irises were bright, impossibly bright, and shimmering with fresh tears. Her lavender lingerie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, discarded. She was clothed in nothing but her lace panties; her breasts ached with longing for her beloved…but he had not returned to her. Okura had not returned.
Marubeni Kotano sighed, burying her face in the pillow, streaking it with her tears. She wanted to sleep, dammit, why couldn't she fall asleep?
"Please," she sobbed, clenching the blanket in one slender hand tightly, her other hand grasping her chest.
"Please, let me sleep," she begged, "Oh, Lord, please let me sleep! I just want to forget, even for a moment, please…" Kotano whimpered, desperation taking control over her. Images of Okura, distorted from brandy, were flooding her mind.
She remembered the day they first met; at twenty-one, the beautiful, golden-haired Okura stepping into the café as if from a dream…their eyes had met from across the room, his a mixture of dark blue and grey, hers the colour of a glacial lake. She had been wearing a sleeveless blue gown that day; a dress that hugged her breasts and hips, yet flowed around her legs freely. Her hair had been loose, white-blond, platinum, and reaching her waist. She had been sixteen at the time, the perfect age for falling in love.
"Please, stop," she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, but the memories lingered behind her eyelids…
Tenou Okura had walked over to her table without hesitation, grasped her hand, kissed her palm, and declared that he wanted to be with her. If any other man had done such a ridiculous thing, Kotano would have laughed and smacked his hand away; even at sixteen Kotano was an experienced woman when it came to men; but she had only smiled at the reincarnation of a Greek God, blushed, and accepted his proposal. Okura was not an ordinary man by any stretch of the imagination. She had been ready for romance, had been waiting for so long for the perfect man…and she had foolishly believed that Okura was this man.
Kotano thought that this had been the gesture of a man hopelessly in love; in truth, it had been a gesture of possession.
"…Because he was beautiful," Kotano sobbed, "I thought he was the ideal man because he was beautiful, and talented, and famous…Oh, God! Why, why did I have to fall in love with him, why?"
But Kotano knew why. Even if she did not entirely understand the reason, she knew why she had fallen in love with Okura. It wasn't just because he was beautiful, and it wasn't because he had been her first lover (he hadn't); it was because he intrigued her. He was a mystery to her; he was not like other men. Not just because he was older, for she could reduce any man, young or old, into a slobbering, stupid beast; though his maturity had certainly been a deciding factor. Other men were simple and predictable; despite age, despite education, despite social standing, all men had one thing in common. Their lives were ruled by their peckers, whereas Okura was controlled by his determination to be immortalized.
In the beginning, Okura's quest for godliness had been awe-inspiring. His dreams had so much depth: his mission, his determination, and his drive. When he spoke, when he really spoke what was on his mind, she listened, and felt as if she was his only confident; the only one he trusted. Okura made her feel important; she felt worthy to be his audience, and she respected him for it. Respect, the highest possible praise that Kotano could give; over passion, over love! Kotano had finally found a man she could respect. She had fallen in love with Okura because of his depth, and because she could respect him.
How naïve Kotano had been.
Okura may have been passionate about his quest, but this passion did not overlap into his love. When he kissed her, when he made love to her, Okura never closed his eyes. Ever. He was always in control. Okura was a harsh lover, a selfish lover who filled his desires over his partners and never considered her needs. His lovemaking always left Kotano unfulfilled, and feeling somewhat empty inside. Yet when it was over, instead of quenching her longing, it increased. After he exited her, Kotano would hold her body, her body that ached for love and tenderness. Okura never stroked her hair, he never caressed her cheek, and he never smiled, or teased, or simply held her. To Okura, sex was like clocking for work; just in and out. Kotano wanted to be played like a violin; he used her body as a pinball machine. All Kotano wanted were soft words and caresses, gentle touches and petting. All she wanted was for Okura to tell her that he loved her…
Okura's depth, his mystique, his distance…the qualities that caused Kotano to love him became the qualities that caused Kotano so much grief. She had wanted a man different from all the others; now she wished desperately that Okura was more like other men. But it was too late for Kotano. She was in too deep to back out now. He owned her, body and soul, and there was no going back.
"Whether I like it or not…I belong to Okura. I cannot simply deny my feelings towards him. I have given him too much of myself to leave him. I am bound to him…for as long as I live."
She stepped over to the window, ignoring the flashing pains on the soles of her feet, and looked out at the sky above. Okura was out there, somewhere.
"Please return to me, my love…" she called softly into the night.
*****
The jostling of the car woke Okura from his rest. Pain flashed before his eyes as the back of his head collided with the window. He groaned, then let out a low stream of curses.
"What the…"he muttered incoherently, not completely aware of where he was, or of what had happened. He dimly remembered yelling at Kotano, then leaving, and then running…after that, all was a blur.
"Tenou-san? Tenou-san? Are you awake?" asked a slightly panicky voice from ahead of him, apparently the driver of the car.
" Uh, I think," Okura replied groggily. He just needed a minute to clear his head, to grasp a hold on his situation. He remembered collapsing, and a small framed man helping him into his car…the driver?
Suddenly, the car door was opened, and a small, dark haired appeared. The man smiled, his pale face flushed with colour. Okura recognised the man as the one who had found him. Eguchi, he was called.
"Tenou-san! You've awoken! Thank goodness!" Eguchi exclaimed to the rather baffled Okura. Then, Eguchi seemed to do a double take. "Oh, Tenou-san! You've hurt yourself! Your head…oh, because of my bad driving! Please, let me help you out, just take my hand…"
The flustered Eguchi frantically tried to help Okura out of the car, but Okura resisted. He was still somewhat confused. Why was this strange man making such a fuss over him? What…
"Oh, Tenou-san, Fukuda will be so angry with me, as that I have harmed his prize athlete before his big race…please, forgive me!"
"Oh, sure…" Okura replied, in bemusement. He got out of the car without the assistance of Eguchi. Dimly he remembered what had happened the last time the man had tried to assist him.
The car had stopped in front of a large, high-class, multi-story hotel. This was the hotel where Fukuda, his manager, was staying in. Now Okura remembered where Eguchi was taking them, but he could not remember why.
The sky was lighter than before; when Okura had been running, the sky was pitch black.
"How late is it?" wondered Okura absently. "How long was I running for?"
When Okura ran, he lost all sense of time and distance; there was only himself and the wind. He was lost in his own world, where nothing could hurt him, where nothing mattered but the feeling of the wind alongside him…
Okura stepped away from the car and leaned against the building as he watched Eguchi hand the keys of the car to the valet. His head was killing him, he felt dizzy, as if he had had the wind knocked out of him…
"Eguchi?"asked Okura as the small man closed and locked the car door, "How, how did you find me? How did you know I was lost?
"Why, Fukuda-san told me, sir. Fukuda-san, he phoned me, and told me to look for you, that you had gone missing."
"That asshole Fukuda knows everything," Okura thought, somewhat angrily. Fukuda was always on top of everything. Nothing slipped past that slick bastard.
"Oh," replied Okura, wondering how in the hell Fukuda had found out. He could not remember talking to his manager after he had left the apartment, and he knew that Fukuda had not been in the apartment when he had run off… "Did Fukuda tell you how he found out I was missing?"
Eguchi frowned. "Oh, no, Tenou-san. I do not ask Fukuda-san questions; he is my superior. It is not my job to ask questions…"
"It's not mine either," Okura muttered, annoyed that he still did not know what was going on. He was not in the mood for a lecture from his manager. All he wanted was to sleep, to rest his head on a soft pillow, to have a cool drink, to…
"Fukuda-san, he told me to bring you right to him. He said that he needed to discuss a very important business matter with you, Tenou-san. He seemed rather upset that you had disappeared." Eguchi's voice penetrated through Okura's thoughts.
"Oh, OK. Did he say anything else, Eguchi? Okura asked.
"Well, uh, yes, he did. Fukuda-san said that if I didn't find you, that he was going to…going to…to shit himself." Eguchi blushed furiously.
" Yeah, that sounds like good old Fukuda, alright," Okura sighed. This was not the information that he had been hoping for.
With a sigh, Okura followed Eguchi into the posh hotel, into the elevator, and into a large suite of rooms. Although Okura was not looking forward to seeing his manager's bloated, pissed off face, he prepared himself for the inevitable. There was no avoiding Fukuda, or the inevitable confrontation that he had been dreading ever since he had lost the 800m race to that damned Swede Magnussen the previous morning. With the resignation of a pig preparing for the slaughterhouse, Okura braced himself for the meeting with Fukuda.
*****
To be continued…
{Sorry for the length…I didn't expect the segment about Haruka's parents to be so long…but it is an important part of the rest of the story. I'll get to Haruka soon…since this is a "sins of the father" story; the past is the base for the future of the story.}
P.S. Thank-you for the feedback! If you have any comments, suggestions, death-threats, whatever, my email address is micheruk@hotmail.com
Her beautiful face was pale, and streaked with the residue of tears. Her lips were a sharp contrast to her face; bright, almost blood red. Her eyes were half shut and surrounded in shadows, but her irises were bright, impossibly bright, and shimmering with fresh tears. Her lavender lingerie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, discarded. She was clothed in nothing but her lace panties; her breasts ached with longing for her beloved…but he had not returned to her. Okura had not returned.
Marubeni Kotano sighed, burying her face in the pillow, streaking it with her tears. She wanted to sleep, dammit, why couldn't she fall asleep?
"Please," she sobbed, clenching the blanket in one slender hand tightly, her other hand grasping her chest.
"Please, let me sleep," she begged, "Oh, Lord, please let me sleep! I just want to forget, even for a moment, please…" Kotano whimpered, desperation taking control over her. Images of Okura, distorted from brandy, were flooding her mind.
She remembered the day they first met; at twenty-one, the beautiful, golden-haired Okura stepping into the café as if from a dream…their eyes had met from across the room, his a mixture of dark blue and grey, hers the colour of a glacial lake. She had been wearing a sleeveless blue gown that day; a dress that hugged her breasts and hips, yet flowed around her legs freely. Her hair had been loose, white-blond, platinum, and reaching her waist. She had been sixteen at the time, the perfect age for falling in love.
"Please, stop," she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, but the memories lingered behind her eyelids…
Tenou Okura had walked over to her table without hesitation, grasped her hand, kissed her palm, and declared that he wanted to be with her. If any other man had done such a ridiculous thing, Kotano would have laughed and smacked his hand away; even at sixteen Kotano was an experienced woman when it came to men; but she had only smiled at the reincarnation of a Greek God, blushed, and accepted his proposal. Okura was not an ordinary man by any stretch of the imagination. She had been ready for romance, had been waiting for so long for the perfect man…and she had foolishly believed that Okura was this man.
Kotano thought that this had been the gesture of a man hopelessly in love; in truth, it had been a gesture of possession.
"…Because he was beautiful," Kotano sobbed, "I thought he was the ideal man because he was beautiful, and talented, and famous…Oh, God! Why, why did I have to fall in love with him, why?"
But Kotano knew why. Even if she did not entirely understand the reason, she knew why she had fallen in love with Okura. It wasn't just because he was beautiful, and it wasn't because he had been her first lover (he hadn't); it was because he intrigued her. He was a mystery to her; he was not like other men. Not just because he was older, for she could reduce any man, young or old, into a slobbering, stupid beast; though his maturity had certainly been a deciding factor. Other men were simple and predictable; despite age, despite education, despite social standing, all men had one thing in common. Their lives were ruled by their peckers, whereas Okura was controlled by his determination to be immortalized.
In the beginning, Okura's quest for godliness had been awe-inspiring. His dreams had so much depth: his mission, his determination, and his drive. When he spoke, when he really spoke what was on his mind, she listened, and felt as if she was his only confident; the only one he trusted. Okura made her feel important; she felt worthy to be his audience, and she respected him for it. Respect, the highest possible praise that Kotano could give; over passion, over love! Kotano had finally found a man she could respect. She had fallen in love with Okura because of his depth, and because she could respect him.
How naïve Kotano had been.
Okura may have been passionate about his quest, but this passion did not overlap into his love. When he kissed her, when he made love to her, Okura never closed his eyes. Ever. He was always in control. Okura was a harsh lover, a selfish lover who filled his desires over his partners and never considered her needs. His lovemaking always left Kotano unfulfilled, and feeling somewhat empty inside. Yet when it was over, instead of quenching her longing, it increased. After he exited her, Kotano would hold her body, her body that ached for love and tenderness. Okura never stroked her hair, he never caressed her cheek, and he never smiled, or teased, or simply held her. To Okura, sex was like clocking for work; just in and out. Kotano wanted to be played like a violin; he used her body as a pinball machine. All Kotano wanted were soft words and caresses, gentle touches and petting. All she wanted was for Okura to tell her that he loved her…
Okura's depth, his mystique, his distance…the qualities that caused Kotano to love him became the qualities that caused Kotano so much grief. She had wanted a man different from all the others; now she wished desperately that Okura was more like other men. But it was too late for Kotano. She was in too deep to back out now. He owned her, body and soul, and there was no going back.
"Whether I like it or not…I belong to Okura. I cannot simply deny my feelings towards him. I have given him too much of myself to leave him. I am bound to him…for as long as I live."
She stepped over to the window, ignoring the flashing pains on the soles of her feet, and looked out at the sky above. Okura was out there, somewhere.
"Please return to me, my love…" she called softly into the night.
*****
The jostling of the car woke Okura from his rest. Pain flashed before his eyes as the back of his head collided with the window. He groaned, then let out a low stream of curses.
"What the…"he muttered incoherently, not completely aware of where he was, or of what had happened. He dimly remembered yelling at Kotano, then leaving, and then running…after that, all was a blur.
"Tenou-san? Tenou-san? Are you awake?" asked a slightly panicky voice from ahead of him, apparently the driver of the car.
" Uh, I think," Okura replied groggily. He just needed a minute to clear his head, to grasp a hold on his situation. He remembered collapsing, and a small framed man helping him into his car…the driver?
Suddenly, the car door was opened, and a small, dark haired appeared. The man smiled, his pale face flushed with colour. Okura recognised the man as the one who had found him. Eguchi, he was called.
"Tenou-san! You've awoken! Thank goodness!" Eguchi exclaimed to the rather baffled Okura. Then, Eguchi seemed to do a double take. "Oh, Tenou-san! You've hurt yourself! Your head…oh, because of my bad driving! Please, let me help you out, just take my hand…"
The flustered Eguchi frantically tried to help Okura out of the car, but Okura resisted. He was still somewhat confused. Why was this strange man making such a fuss over him? What…
"Oh, Tenou-san, Fukuda will be so angry with me, as that I have harmed his prize athlete before his big race…please, forgive me!"
"Oh, sure…" Okura replied, in bemusement. He got out of the car without the assistance of Eguchi. Dimly he remembered what had happened the last time the man had tried to assist him.
The car had stopped in front of a large, high-class, multi-story hotel. This was the hotel where Fukuda, his manager, was staying in. Now Okura remembered where Eguchi was taking them, but he could not remember why.
The sky was lighter than before; when Okura had been running, the sky was pitch black.
"How late is it?" wondered Okura absently. "How long was I running for?"
When Okura ran, he lost all sense of time and distance; there was only himself and the wind. He was lost in his own world, where nothing could hurt him, where nothing mattered but the feeling of the wind alongside him…
Okura stepped away from the car and leaned against the building as he watched Eguchi hand the keys of the car to the valet. His head was killing him, he felt dizzy, as if he had had the wind knocked out of him…
"Eguchi?"asked Okura as the small man closed and locked the car door, "How, how did you find me? How did you know I was lost?
"Why, Fukuda-san told me, sir. Fukuda-san, he phoned me, and told me to look for you, that you had gone missing."
"That asshole Fukuda knows everything," Okura thought, somewhat angrily. Fukuda was always on top of everything. Nothing slipped past that slick bastard.
"Oh," replied Okura, wondering how in the hell Fukuda had found out. He could not remember talking to his manager after he had left the apartment, and he knew that Fukuda had not been in the apartment when he had run off… "Did Fukuda tell you how he found out I was missing?"
Eguchi frowned. "Oh, no, Tenou-san. I do not ask Fukuda-san questions; he is my superior. It is not my job to ask questions…"
"It's not mine either," Okura muttered, annoyed that he still did not know what was going on. He was not in the mood for a lecture from his manager. All he wanted was to sleep, to rest his head on a soft pillow, to have a cool drink, to…
"Fukuda-san, he told me to bring you right to him. He said that he needed to discuss a very important business matter with you, Tenou-san. He seemed rather upset that you had disappeared." Eguchi's voice penetrated through Okura's thoughts.
"Oh, OK. Did he say anything else, Eguchi? Okura asked.
"Well, uh, yes, he did. Fukuda-san said that if I didn't find you, that he was going to…going to…to shit himself." Eguchi blushed furiously.
" Yeah, that sounds like good old Fukuda, alright," Okura sighed. This was not the information that he had been hoping for.
With a sigh, Okura followed Eguchi into the posh hotel, into the elevator, and into a large suite of rooms. Although Okura was not looking forward to seeing his manager's bloated, pissed off face, he prepared himself for the inevitable. There was no avoiding Fukuda, or the inevitable confrontation that he had been dreading ever since he had lost the 800m race to that damned Swede Magnussen the previous morning. With the resignation of a pig preparing for the slaughterhouse, Okura braced himself for the meeting with Fukuda.
*****
To be continued…
{Sorry for the length…I didn't expect the segment about Haruka's parents to be so long…but it is an important part of the rest of the story. I'll get to Haruka soon…since this is a "sins of the father" story; the past is the base for the future of the story.}
P.S. Thank-you for the feedback! If you have any comments, suggestions, death-threats, whatever, my email address is micheruk@hotmail.com