{Reader beware: this is some serious shit!}
Around the same time that Okura was running from the laughter of the drunken whore, Kotano was awakened from her trance by the persistent ringing of the phone.
"The hell?" she asked, annoyed. Although Kotano was unaware of the current hour, judging by the darkness of the sky, it was late. Sighing, Kotano left the balcony and entered the hotel room.
She winced with every step, forgetting the pieces of glass embedded in her feet. Kotano moved through the house in dreamlike state, memories of the evening blurred and insipid. Dimly she wondered why the large mirror lay in pieces on the floor, and why there was a trail of blood behind her. The alcohol had not only numbed her feelings, but her body as well.
The phone lay on the coffee table, the ringing shrill and consistent. Kotano checked the wall clock; it was twenty past twelve.
"Who could be calling at this hour? Who has this number?" (Okura…)
Okura! He still hadn't returned! Shit! He had left hours ago…he was all alone; all alone; all alone…
In the city, a city full of dangerous criminals, where there were muggings, murders…and Okura was lost in the midst of it. Okura, her distant lover, who spoke no English, who was unfamiliar with the layout of the city, who became lost in his own world so easily…
Okura lying in the street somewhere, hurt, (dying) in pain, (dying) covered in (blood) … (bloody, so bloody and broken dead dead dead left for dead all alone leaving her all alone)
Suddenly Kotano was knocked out of her trance with the force of a sledgehammer, with the realisation that Okura had not returned, and something could have happened to him…
It could be the police, who had either found Okura or calling for her to identify the body of her beloved…Kotano grasped the receiver in her hand as if it were a lifeline.
"Hello, Marubeni here," answered Kotano breathlessly, fearing the worse.
"Kotano," the voice on the telephone replied, "This is Fukuda. I need to speak with Tenou, immediately."
"Fukuda-san," she grimaced. Kotano hated her lover's manager: his beady eyes, his rasping voice, and his gaze that undressed every woman in passing without shame, as if they were his property… Kotano really hated that fucker.
"I need to speak to him. Now." He spoke with poorly concealed frustration.
"He's not here." Kotano replied.
There was a moment of silence, then "What did you say?"
"He's not here. Okura left, I don't know, maybe four, five hours ago…"
"What?!" he erupted, in shock and extreme anger. "No, I mean, why..., how…" he stuttered. If the situation had not been so serious, the thought of Fukuda at a loss for words would have been comical.
"He's gone. He left in a fit of temper…he was very upset about the 800m and, well, I….I don't know where he went…"
"You don't know where he went….and I only found out about this now…because I phoned you…what the hell is wrong with you? What the … hell … is … wrong … with you?"
Kotano sighed, and rested her head against the wall. She was beginning to get over the buzz of the brandy; the hangover, which threatened to be enormous, began to rear its ugly head.
"The biggest race of his career is tomorrow, no, today, and you don't know where he is? You've been sitting on your ass for FIVE …FUCKING …HOURS…and you don't know where he is? You haven't called the police, or me, or…done fucking…fucking anything?"
"Fukuda is such a rude, insensitive pig," Kotano mused, wondering why his voice seemed so distant when in reality it was loud enough to echo throughout the hotel room. She really wished that he would shut up already.
"…Kotano? Kotano! Answer me! Exactly what time did Tenou leave, and in which direction?" Fukuda's voice penetrated through her thoughts.
Kotano sighed; it was hard for her to focus with the size of her headache/hangover.
"Kotano, dammit, answer me…"
"He left at around seven…but I don't know what direction…he probably didn't know either…"
"Ok. So Okura's been missing for over five hours, and you have no idea where…Kotano, are you listing to me?" (Kotano mumbled something incoherent) "This is what I'm going to do. I'm sending some men out to look for him, all over the city, and hopefully, one of them will find Tenou. You are going to stay right where you are until I send someone over to pick you up. Do you understand? Kotano?"
"Yes, I understand. Goodbye," Kotano hung up the phone in relief. Talking to Fukuda always left her with a splitting headache, and on top of the brandy…
She grimaced as a wave of nausea washed over her, and rushed to the toilet. Tiredly she vomited until she was completely empty of all food, and all emotion. This night had been an incredibly emotional night for the poor girl…all because of Okura.
She should have hated him, but instead all she felt was a familiar longing deep in her chest, an almost physical pain.
"Pain, that's all he puts me through, everlasting pain…"
Things would be different after they married, wouldn't they? Yes, of course they would. Okura would settle down, give up his damned racing, finish college, get a good job as a layer, and make partner in a few years; a very promising future.
"If only he would agree to giving up his racing, though I don't think he ever will. Even though there is a plan for us to become engaged, I'm not sure if he will stick to the bargain…"
The fear that Okura would leave her had always haunted her, but after tonight it had gained control over Kotano, replacing the practical aspect of her mind. The fear of rejection was so great that it had clouded her judgement. Kotano had a premonition that their lives were about to change drastically after this last race. She did not know why, or how, but she feared that this great change would have a drastic effect on their relationship.
Kotano knew what she had to do. It was a risky step; it would mean the end, or at least a large pause, in her career. It would mean a lifelong commitment. It would mean betraying Okura's trust in her. It would mean the end of their lives as they knew them…but Kotano was willing to make these sacrifices. The end always justified the means for Kotano. She would not lose him. No matter how high the consequences.
She got off the floor, her feet screaming in agony, her head pounding, her stomach protesting, but somehow Kotano was able to stand up and reach for the shelf where she kept her toiletries and other hygienic products. Finding what she was looking for, Kotano returned to the toilet and emptied the contents of the small package into its depths. The sound of the flush vibrated throughout the entire room. There was no going back for Kotano, no, now she had made her decision, and had taken the necessary action. The flush of the toilet somehow made the decision final; there was no going back…
*****
Okura followed Eguchi into the vast suite that served as Fukuda's portable office. Against the cream coloured wall lay a large, mahogany desk and a serious looking steel file cabinet. Behind the desk there was a huge, bay window that looked out to the city; a staggering view, as the suite was on the twentieth floor. Before the desk stood a series of chairs. The desk was covered in files and papers. Three telephones were set up on Fukuda's desk as well. The office looked as if it had been in use for years, and not only two weeks.
Okura sat in the chair farthest from the desk, while Eguchi waited patiently before the door like a dog awaiting his master.
"Wonder where the hell he is," Okura thought. It was typical of Fukuda to make his clients wait until he made his grand entrance, but it was still damned annoying.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside the office. The steps continued to rise in volume, as the figure grew closer, then stopped. Fukuda stood in the doorway, his custom scowl in place.
*****
Fukuda had the appearance of a wrestler who was beginning to run to fat. Although his girth was huge, the strong outlines of muscles still remained buried under flab. Fukuda was a large man, standing well over six feet and weighing close to 300 pounds. His face was unlined except for heavy, Nixon-type jowls and deep lines between his eyebrows. His hair was thick and plentiful, dark brown but for his greying temples. His exact age was unknown, but judging from his appearance, Fukuda appeared to be entering his early fifties.
Fukuda had been a linebacker in high school, and had gone pro for several years as an exchange student for an American team after winning a University scholarship. After playing for the University of Georgia for three years, he graduated, and was accepted to play in the NFL, for the Dallas Cowboys. Fukuda had never been an extraordinary player, but was a good, solid addition to the team. He stayed with the team for seven years, until a particularly bad play left him with a trick knee. The injury would not affect his everyday life, but rendered him unable to play football. Fukuda returned to Japan with a degree in business, a ten-year career in professional football, and a vast array of knowledge of the world behind the scenes of professional sports. Fukuda possessed a keen intelligence, a head for figures and a stubborn, take no shit attitude. He set up to become an agent for athletes, financed his own practice, and the rest was history. After twenty years in the business, Fukuda was the toughest, most respected, feared and top of the line agent in the field of athletics.
Although Tenou wasn't Fukuda's only client involved in the 1984 Olympics, he was his most important. Tenou Okura was his next big star; the kid had it in him to be the greatest athlete of his generation. But for all of Tenou's talent, the kid had the sense that God gave an insect. Sure, Tenou was smart enough when it came to schoolwork, but he had no real understanding of the world around him. Tenou had no comprehension of business, of the media or the industry. He did not understand the importance of public opinion, or how to draw upon the masses. Tenou was not simple-minded, but his basic understanding of politics could only be described as nominal.
Tenou was a man who believed that ability and talent were all that one needed to succeed. Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth. True, talent and ability were needed to win the races, but they did not sell on their own. Just why Tenou was a famous name the world over was because of the persistent and constant efforts of Fukuda to broadcast his image.
When Fukuda had first met Tenou, he was impressed by his natural abilities, nurtured without formal training. This boy was as fast as the wind; he was simply amazing. Fukuda had seen Tenou race at a high school event 8 years before, when he had been only fifteen. The reason why Fukuda was in attendance was because he was interested in recruiting a young basketball star that was beginning to make a name for himself; but it was not the basketball that took Fukuda's interest. The Tenou boy, what talent! What incredible talent! Bonus: he was easy on the eyes, and had a powerful charisma about him.
Fukuda approached the youth that day, and offered the young man the chance of a lifetime. Fukuda would be his agent, and provide the young Tenou with a personal trainer. He would also handle the publicity, the contracts, the legal issues, everything. All it would cost Tenou was his devotion-and one half of all profits.
Tenou Okura, being only fifteen and hardly a man of the world, agreed immediately. The offer was too good to be true; his dreams would come true, he would be famous, a champion! The issue of money meant nothing for the boy, for, after all, he had no money of his own at the time, and had no idea on the profits at hand. He accepted the deal without a second thought.
Fukuda set to work immediately to train the boy, and find him a benefactor. For Tenou's personal trainer, Fukuda hired Olympic gold medallist Kagawa Ryoko, a personal favourite. This man, although out of competition for forty years, was an excellent coach who always came out with results. Tenou bonded immediately with his coach, and made steady progress. Although Kagawa was costing Fukuda a fortune, to him it was a worthwhile expense. With each practice, Tenou grew faster and faster until he was able to clock times only reached by record-holding athletes. A worthwhile investment, Fukuda thought.
Finding a benefactor would have to wait until Tenou got recognition, so as soon as Kagawa pronounced the boy ready, Fukuda began to enter him in competitions. The results were amazing; Tenou won every race he participated in! His name began to become known in the world in sports, and it was at this time that Fukuda found him a sponsor.
In Osaka, Hira-Numa was the biggest name in sport and auto equipment. So fitting that they would accept Fukuda's offer and become the official sponsor of Tenou Okura. The money they contributed towards the boy's career was significant, so as Tenou gained in popularity, Fukuda was able to finance an advertising campaign to send Tenou to the 1984 Olympics-which was still four years away.
At this period of time, Tenou was nineteen years of age and just beginning his first year at the University of Osaka, financed by athletic scholarship. The advertising campaign was effective; people from all around the city began to come to Tenou's athletic meets, and his popularity was steadily increasing. At nineteen, Tenou Okura was breathtakingly handsome: tall, bronzed, dark blond hair and deep blue/grey eyes. Girls went crazy over him-which Fukuda used to his advantage.
Everything was going perfectly for the young Tenou-but Fukuda was still not satisfied. Although Tenou had a devout following in Osaka, Fukuda wanted his name to be known countrywide. In order for this to happen, Tenou needed to be featured on television. This way, his image would be broadcast to people from all around Japan-and beyond. But how to generate public interest in a University runner? Enter Marubeni Kotano.
Fukuda knew that the fastest way to media attention was to have a relationship with a celebrity-it was almost a given that the object of the celebrity's attention would get media exposure. So Fukuda set upon himself the task for finding the perfect match for Tenou.
Although Fukuda was a big name in the business, he had no connection with any celebrities other than athletes. Fukuda wanted a bigger name for Tenou, though, a name linked to the entertainment industry. So he began to contact the agents of celebrities. He was able to find a small agency that specialized centrally on modeling. One of the agents suggested his client, one Marubeni Kotano. Marubeni was an up-and-coming sensation; half Danish, half Japanese, who was beginning to take the fashion industry by storm. Her unique appearance, her charisma, her mannerisms had made her into somewhat of a celebrity. She had connections with famous actors, directors and fashion designers, and her name was synonymous with success.
So Fukuda decided that she would be the one to draw attention to Tenou. He encouraged Tenou to strike up a conversation with her in a café that she was known to frequent. Everything was planned; Tenou visited the café everyday until he saw Kotano. He simply walked towards her, asked her out, and she accepted. Poor Kotano, she thought that Tenou was in love with her. She never found out that their entire relationship had been the idea of Fukuda, and that she was only a tool to gain recognition for Tenou.
Poor Kotano, poor girl who thought that Tenou really loved her, that their first meeting had been kismet! Poor, ignorant, stupid girl. Fukuda supposed that he should be grateful towards the girl, but gratitude was not in Fukuda's vocabulary. Women were nothing to him but ornaments, which was how he perceived Kotano. She was nothing but eye candy, another medal around Tenou's neck. Her wants and needs were unimportant and not even considered by Fukuda. He may have been a heartless bastard, but to Fukuda, nothing much mattered other than money and fame. He had been called worse names in his life; the typical one being whoremaster. What one woman thought of him was irrelevant. He worked for himself and himself alone.
*****
Fukuda stepped into his office with the solemn grace of a President, despite his massive girth. Without acknowledging Eguchi's presence, Fukuda sat behind his large desk and began to shuffle through his papers. Eguchi took the hint and left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Fukuda-san," began Okura awkwardly, but one glance from Fukuda shut him up. Okura looked nervously out the window, not knowing how to respond to his manager's cold guise. Okura had expected Fukuda to be angry, to be screaming and hurling insults faster than Okura could process them. Yet Fukuda remained strangely silent. This frightened Okura; he had thought that he could read his manager like a book. His silence came as an unexpected, and unnerving, surprise.
"Tenou Okura," began Fukuda solemnly, "We have been planning your career for many years. Am I not correct?"
Sweat dripped down Okura's shirt. "Uh, yuh-yuh-yes, Fukuda-san.
Fukuda had chosen his words carefully; they had the impact of a bullet, "So, Tenou, why did you deliberately set out to ruin your chances for tomorrow's, no, today's race?"
"I…what? What are you…I, I…"
"Yes, Tenou. You have almost certainly sabotaged your chances of winning this race. It is now four o'clock in the morning. Your race begins at twelve noon; you need to arrive at the stadium at least three hours in advance. So, if you were to fall asleep immediately, and arrive at the stadium exactly after you woke up…so, if you were to do this…you would be left with five hours to sleep. Five hours! Not to mention that you have exhausted yourself by running around for god knows how many hours…and you'll probably be sick…to make a long story short, you've fucked yourself over. Royally."
"I…"Okura stuttered, then fell silent. It was true. He had fucked up. Fukuda was completely right; there was nothing left for Okura to say.
"So, Okura, how does it feel? How does it feel to sabotage your own career? I thought that you wanted success, that you wanted to be immortalized…that you wanted your fucking face on the Wheaties box…do you really believe that you are immune to failure? I think that your success had gone to your head; you really think you are invincible."
"I…"
"But wait, I'm not quite right. You see, Tenou, I think that this last race opened your eyes. It made you realise that you are not invincible, that you are indeed capable of failure. And you couldn't take it, could you? It was too much of a shock…so you fled. You were scared, Tenou, scared shitless…so you ran away, like you always do. Like a goddamned sissy, you ran away, and in the process, eliminated what chances you had of winning the next race. Tenou Okura, you are a coward."
Fukuda's words stung Okura deeply. They were so cruel, and so hateful…but at the same time, Okura was able to recognise their truth. Okura wanted to scream, to shout, and to protest at the top of his lungs…but he was unable to. Fukuda had been exactly on target. He had thought himself invincible; he had thought himself incapable of failure. And Okura was a coward. He was always running away from his fears. Always had been, and probably always would.
"So, Tenou, what do you say to that?" Asked Fukuda cruelly, an angry smirk on his face.
"I…I…" Okura stuttered, speechless.
"As I expected, you're at a loss for words. But that's all right, Tenou, because I don't want to hear your half-assed excuses. I want you to listen, Tenou, and listen well. You will go to the stadium today, and you will compete. Even if you're sick, even if you're fucking dying…I want you there. And I want you to give this race everything you've got-even if it kills you. Have you got that?
"Yes," Okura replied, defeated. He would listen to Fukuda. He would do everything Fukuda said. Everything was his fault. First to lose the race, and then to go running off and ruining any chance he had of winning the 1 500m.
"Good. I want you to wait here until I come back with your girlfriend. We still have one more thing to discuss-and we need her here to do so.
"Where is she, anyways?" Okura asked with disinterest. He had not given Kotano much thought since he ran out on her.
"Would you believe this, on top of everything else, that stupid bitch managed to break a mirror and end up with pieces of glass stuck in her feet." Fukuda laughed darkly. "This stupid bitch apparently just stepped in it, and disregarded it. She was so messed up that she didn't even notice that her feet were bleeding…Jeez, what a night. Anyways, I sent Hagiwargi out to get her, and he found her lying on the floor in a fucking bathrobe…bleeding…and passed out. He brought her to the hospital, where she had the glass surgically removed."
"Oh," Okura replied as if Fukuda had said she went shopping.
"Well, she's due to arrive in twenty minutes or so. I got a call from Hagiwargi a few minutes ago. They're on their way over. She's apparently alright, although it seems that your girl won't be able to go dancing for a while…" Fukuda laughed, a disgusting, rasping laugh that turned into a fit of coughing. He reached into the breast pocket of his expensive, tailored suit and came up with a huge cigar and a monogrammed lighter. He lit it unconsciously, with the grace and ease of a veteran.
"So, Tenou, I'm going to leave you here for a few minutes so you can process what I just said. I'll be back in twenty, thirty minutes, whenever Hagiwargi comes back with that bitch." Fukuda rose to his feet, "Think long and hard, Tenou. I want you to understand just how badly you fucked up." With those final words, Fukuda left Okura.
Okura sighed and buried his head in his hands. Just two days ago, everything had been so perfect…the speed of change was unbelievable.
"What am I going to do?" Okura cried out, his desperate words echoing throughout the room. "Oh, Lord, what can I do? I'm bound to lose…lose…lose…everything! Everything I've dreamed of, everything that I've worked so hard towards…over!"
Okura was irrational, of course. Fukuda's words had left him feeling weak, pathetic…and irrational. Even if he did not place in the 1 500 race, one silver and three gold medals were still an amazing triumph. Sure, the loss would hurt his career, but not cripple it. There were still other events, other races, other Olympic games, even. But to Okura, this defeat, this failure…was the end for him. He was unable to see beyond these events, to rationalize; his mind was in shock, he was incapable of reasonable thinking. Failure…all Okura could see was his failure…nothing beyond.
"Oh, Lord, I have failed! I have gone down in defeat…I" Okura's desperate ramblings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
Desperately, Okura swung his gaze, and to his amazement, he saw the little Eguchi standing in the doorway. Eguchi smiled at Okura nervously, and stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. What the little shit was doing here was beyond Okura. All Okura knew was that Eguchi was invading his personal space, he was a witness to the Great Tenou Okura's breakdown…and this infuriated him.
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Okura shouted, not caring that his voice was shaking, that it could probably be heard by anyone beyond the office, beyond the hotel.
"Please, Tenou-san, I…" he stuttered helplessly, and continued to advance towards Okura.
"Get out! Get the hell out! Just…get…the…HELL...out…"
"Please, Tenou-san, please just listen to me…"Eguchi continued, tears in his large eyes, his voice breaking…but still he would not leave.
This determination, the courage to advance towards the homicidal Okura was what convinced him to listen. If Eguchi was so desperate to be heard…Okura would be damned if he knew what the little shit was going to say…but Eguchi's determination won Okura over. He would give him an audience.
"Alright, I'll listen. Just… make it quick," Okura replied, and then sighed. This day, no these two days…they were really doing a number on him.
Eguchi proceeded forward, until he stood before Okura. He went down on his knees, and gazed into Okura's eyes. This gesture surprised Okura. Eguchi looked as if he were before a priest at confession-or about to propose.
For some reason this cracked Okura up; he laughed until he just about shit himself. A release of nervous tension, or something along those lines. Eguchi looked at Okura with a mix of surprise and fear.
"Sorry…"gasped Okura, "Don't know what came over me…" The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had started. Okura wondered vaguely if he was going insane.
Hesitantly, Eguchi continued to speak after Okura settled down.
"Thank-you, Tenou-san, for taking the time to listen. I know that you are upset…I know what happened yesterday…and I have come to you to help."
"You? Help me?" Okura replied in astonishment. "What the hell could you do to help me?"
Eguchi smiled, shyly. "Oh, Tenou-san, I am not offended by your disbelief. Of course you are wondering what such a lowly being as myself could do to benefit a man as great as you. I tell you, though, Tenou-san, I can help!"
Okura smirked. "OK, so you think you can help me. With what? Can you delay the race? Can you kill that huge fuck Magnussen? Can you help me win this race…"Okura trailed off as Eguchi nodded.
"Yes, I believe I can." The statement was calm, proud, strong…delivered with a force that shut Okura's trap.
"You see, Tenou-san, I have admired you for years, ever since I saw you compete at the Junior Varsity Championships. You probably don't recognise me, but I was a classmate of yours, many years ago. I have always looked up to you, not just because of your skills as a runner, but for your determination and drive. I have always faced uncertainties regarding my path in life…and to witness a man as confident in his dreams and future as you, Tenou-san…It gave me a feeling akin to worship. Don't look at me that way, Tenou-san. That is not what I am implying…I just mean that I admired how you took life by the horns, and followed your dream, against all odds…"
"But look at me now!" Okura interrupted passionately, "Just look at the mess I'm in now! I am no longer confident in my abilities, in my future, in myself…"
"Yes, you may feel this way now, Tenou-san…but you are in the midst of a crisis. When it passes, your strength will return, as will your willpower. You are destined for success, I can read it in your eyes, in your speech…it has been born into you, and there is no escaping it. Tenou Okura-san, you are destined for greatness."
For some reason, Okura felt a rush of confidence return.
"Strange," He mused, "why his words are comforting. What does he know of greatness…yet; I cannot help but believe him. It is true…I am destined towards greatness. I have been chosen to succeed; by a higher power, I have been blessed."
"You must surmount this crisis, Tenou-san. Your following will only increase after they see how you are able to overcome your greatest threat…and emerge victorious. This is a test, Tenou-san…it is up to you to prove that you are indeed worthy."
"Yes, I must win, I must triumph over this obstacle, I must regain my following…" Okura was suddenly drawn out of his epiphany.
"So, I now realise that I am worthy, but how does this help me, Eguchi? How will this knowledge… be of assistance to overcome my greatest crisis?"
Eguchi grinned. "Oh, thou who hath little faith! Did I not tell you that I would be able to help you?"
"Yes, you did…but how? How can you offer me aid…how can you grant my conquest?"
Eguchi glanced around, as if someone lurked in the shadows. He walked over to the door-and locked it. Okura watched Eguchi with a sense of rapture, as if the greatest secret of all time was to be revealed, as if Eguchi had the secret of eternal life…
"Tenou-san, I thank-you for listening to my words, I thank-you for being a positive role-model for me…and I thank-you on behalf of Japan. You have given people hope, Tenou-san, you have given people inspiration, and courage, pride and I would do anything in order to protect these beliefs. So, I offer you my aid…something that will increase your speed and endurance…" Eguchi reached into his pocket and pulled from it a small box that was labelled 'Freshermint Mints'.
"This is…" Okura gasped in shock as he saw the contents of the opened box.
"Yes, they are performance enhancers, the solution to your dilemma. Take them, Okura…and you will succeed."
"But…if I do…I will be discovered, will I not?"
"You will not. Fate is on your side, Tenou-san…I am sure of it. You will be given a sign, Tenou-san, a sign from above which will prove that you are indeed the chosen one…and then you will take the contents of this box."
"A sign? What? What am I looking for?" asked Okura, breathless and on the edge. He felt as if his future lay in the hands of the small prophet Eguchi.
"You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious. Do you understand, Tenou-san? Do you understand what you must do?" Suddenly, the small man known as Eguchi spoke in a tone of commandment, of superiority. He was no longer the nervous little shit that Okura had made him out to be…indeed, Eguchi had taken the form as a forecaster.
"Yes, I understand." Spoke Okura without thought, without consideration…it was if a higher power had spoken for him.
"Then may you succeed, Tenou-san…" Eguchi replied, stood, and left the room in a manner dissimilar from his entrance. In just a few seconds he was gone…the speed of the revelation was astonishing. How twenty minutes could change history…
Okura held the small box that seemed to weigh substantial. Was it the will of the Gods…or just the foolishness of a desperate athlete and a crazy patron? Okura was uncertain, so he decided to wait for the sign that Eguchi had told him of. Whatever that was. He would wait…and if there was a sign of providence, then he would follow Eguchi's directions. If not, then he would disregard them as hogwash. Although he was uncertain, the slight chance that Eguchi spoke the truth awakened hope within Okura. Just a chance…but still. He could emerge from the crisis…if only…
How strange, how Eguchi had seemed to be so insignificant, so un-noteworthy that Okura had dismissed him without a thought…and yet, Eguchi had offered him the solution to all of his problems. The biggest crisis of his life…
"He is not the same as he was…the man that offered me the result…was not the man who led me to this office."
Something about the situation set off alarms in Okura's head, but he was too tired and too desperate to pay them any heed. He stroked the box containing the answer to his problems, and placed it in his pocket. When the time came…Okura would take action. Until then…
*****
The door to the office swung open, and Fukuda entered in his usual, arrogant stride. Clenched between his teeth was his trademark Cuban cigar. He sat behind his desk, easing his girth into the upholstered chair.
"So, Tenou, have you considered our previous discussion?" He asked, stamping out the butt of his cigar in a filthy ashtray.
Okura smiled. "Yes, I have. I am willing to cooperate with you, Fukuda-san. I am going to give this race everything I've got…I am not going to surrender."
Fukuda smirked. "Ahh, confident, aren't we now? Well, that's good, Tenou, I'm glad that you've got your shit in gear…may I ask of the sudden change in your demeanour?" Fukuda's voice was imposing, but underneath his veneer, Fukuda was taken aback. Tenou seemed so sure of himself…twenty minutes ago he was beaten, defeated, depressed…and now he was confident.
"Wonder what the hell is going through his mind," Fukuda thought, "But I guess that's Tenou for you. So caught up in his own world…probably had a forewarning, or something…" Fukuda sneered and laughed inwardly.
As a man practical almost to a fault, Tenou's stupid beliefs and fantasies were beyond Fukuda's understanding. Personally, he thought Tenou was full of shit, but if that shit made him a better racer…then he was all for it.
"I just gave your advice consideration, Fukuda-san," Okura replied.
"And what advice was that? That you run the race of your life…or that you stop fucking yourself over?" mocked Fukuda.
Okura smiled, a look of extreme faith in his eyes. He looked…as if he was able to forecast the results of the 1 500…as if he knew that he was to win.
"Why, both, Fukuda-san. You were right; I have fucked up my chances, but I am willing to fight for the gold! I will give it my all…I will run until I can no longer breathe, if it is necessary. I will not go down…I will triumph!" Okura answered with passion, his eyes sparkling with hope, with courage…with the certainty of one who was convinced his words were true.
Fukuda was impressed with Tenou's fervour, but remained coldly logical. However Tenou thought of himself, he was not invincible. His lack of sleep…his exhaustion…would surely hinder him. Whatever vehemence overwhelmed him, Tenou was not immune to the effects of the human body.
"Let him believe," thought Fukuda. "If his faith helps him win…then so be it. Don't try to break him down; if he loses, then he will break himself. Let him be foolish…after this race, then it is your chance to knock some sense into him. If his conviction is so strong, then he may summon the strength to succeed. Willpower over matter, illogical… yet beneficial.
The door opened, and a large man entered, escorting the pale figure of Marubeni Kotano. She was dressed sloppily in a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater; her hair was hastily pulled in a lose ponytail, and her feet were wrapped in bandages. Her complexion was ghostly pale; her eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She was staggering a bit, possibly the after effects of the brandy, or the anaesthetic used to ease the pain in her feet.
"Ah, you've finally arrived. Thank-you for your assistance, Hagiwargi."
"No problem, Fukuda-san." The large man bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Kotano limped rather pathetically over to Okura, who had barely acknowledged her presence.
"Well, the guest of honour has finally arrived!" Exclaimed Fukuda sarcastically. "Do take a seat, my dear, you seem incapable of standing upright on your own power. Now, don't be shy, any seat will do. Why don't you sit next to Tenou, there, on the right. Yes, yes, dear, just pull up a chair and get comfortable."
Kotano eased herself into the chair on Okura's right. Tears formed behind her eyelashes as Okura had not yet given her a glance, or a thought. She reached for his hand, but he ignored the gentle pressure she applied. His hand was as still and cold as a corpse's.
"My, my, Kotano, but what has happened to you? Your poor little feet…but how I go on." Fukuda cut his false, concerned tone and his voice changed to his usual, take no shit attitude. "You look like shit, Kotano, like road-kill. How is it you plan to stand by your man in his finest hour looking as if you were hit by a truck? Surely, not in this state! How is it you plan to go before the public in this state?"
Kotano scowled, biting back angry words. She also hated the fact that he called her by her first name, not because he liked her, but because he had no respect of any woman. Oh, how she hated Fukuda, that arrogant, spiteful sonofabitch! If she wasn't so hung over, so drugged, then Kotano probably would have spoke her mind-or sobbed like an infant. In her current condition, however, Kotano simply directed a murderous glare at Fukuda and kept silent.
"Well, now that we're all together, there is a matter of importance that I must discuss with you both. As you are well aware, Tenou's last race is today-in seven hours, in fact. And as you are well aware, it is mandatory for all athletes to be in the stadium three hours before the scheduled event. So we have three hours to prepare." Fukuda paused, and swept his gaze over Tenou and his girlfriend.
"What are we supposed to do?" Kotano asked impatiently. She was tired, and an emotional wreck, and desperately wanted to sleep. They had three hours, hardly enough time for meaningless conversation.
"Well, my dear, that is just it. Just what can we do to salvage this situation? Not much. Frankly, we're screwed. There is no possible way to change the inevitable, so I propose that we make the best of an impossible situation. Tenou, after this meeting, you and your 'dear girlfriend' are to be driven to your hotel, where you will both progress directly to bed. No dirty looks, please, what I mean is that you will go to sleep. You will sleep for however long you need, and then will be awoken by one of my men, probably Hagiwargi. Understood?" Fukuda paused to see their initial reactions.
Both nodded in unison.
"Good. Anyways, when Hagiwargi arrives, I want you to get dressed. Tenou, you wear your uniform, to save changing time. Kotano, what you wear is of more importance. I want you to look ravishing, sophisticated-not like a whore who got plastered and went prancing around in broken glass. Wear something chic-don't look at me that way, dear, I know I'm not exactly a fashion expert, so I'll leave the initial decision up to you. Bring sunglasses, as well. Those bags under your eyes are most unbecoming."
"So, you expect me to appear in public in my condition?" Kotano snapped. "Fukuda-san, don't you remember that I just had surgery on my feet? How am I supposed to go out in public when I can't even walk?"
"But you will go out in public, and you will walk. No, don't interrupt me Kotano- just hear me out. If you were able to survive for three or more hours with the pieces of glass still in your feet, in theory you would be able to survive for the same amount of time, sitting down, for the most past, without them. Besides-you have to. If you don't appear, then the rumours will begin. Why is the beautiful, faithful, devoted lover of Tenou Okura not by his side during the greatest race of his career? And how can Tenou propose to you if you're not there? Do you see my point?"
"Yes…yes, I do."
"So you will be there, you will obey me?"
Kotano sighed; she would do anything for Okura. "Yes, I'll be by his side, and I'll dress as you see fit."
"Excellent. Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted…ah, yes, I remember. Anyways, Hagiwargi will then drive you to the stadium, by private entrance, of course. No one should be able to see you. When we arrive, Tenou, I want you to warm up, do your post race practicing, whatever you usually do before a competition. Kotano, I have hired a top make-up artist to prepare you for your greatest role ever. Kagagawa, her name is. Kotano, during the race you will be sitting in the athlete's family section of the stadium. Try to sit in the centre; you'll get more airtime that way. Any questions? (Both shook their heads) Excellent. Now we are ready to move on to your appropriate reactions concerning the outcome of the race."
Fukuda paused, and opened a drawer in his desk. A bottle of vodka appeared in his hand, and a shot glass immediately after.
"Sorry, but I can't offer either of you any of this-you're already impaired enough." Fukuda poured a generous portion for himself, and downed it with a single gulp. "Ahh, that's the stuff; can't live without it, Now, as I was saying, if Okura is to win the race, as unlikely as that is, the plan will proceed as intended. Tenou will give a spectacular speech after his triumph, proposing to the woman he loves in a fit of passion…and so on. The only difference will be that Kotano cannot run into his arms…but nevertheless, the show will go on! Now, if Tenou is to lose…I want you to be humble. Both of you. Tenou, I don't want any explosions, or any waterworks…I want you to shake the winner's hand, and act proud, dammit! Kotano, I want you to be understanding and supportive-the way a proper fiancée should be. And yes, Tenou, I do want you to propose…but not right after the race. During the closing ceremony…but that's another topic; we have no time to go into details concerning that. Do either of you have any questions?"
"No," both replied.
"Good. Well, seeing that it's almost five in the morning…I'll be sending you off. If you have any other questions, Hagawargi will enlighten you on your way to the stadium tomorrow. Good luck, Tenou, Kotano…you'll need it." Fukuda stood up, and summoned Hagiwargi by intercom.
There was a brief silence, broken by the arrival of Hagiwargi mere seconds after Fukuda's call.
"We'll be leaving now. Please follow me to the car, Tenou-san and Marubeni-san," stated Hagiwargi in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
Wordlessly, both followed him out of the office, out of the hotel, and into the luxurious black automobile. Neither spoke for the entire journey, not a word until they arrived at their hotel room and collapsed onto the bed.
"Okura…" whispered Kotano hesitantly, but Okura silenced her with a look. He closed his eyes…and felt the reassuring presence of the box in his pocket. The box that contained the solution to all of his problems…
*****
If the event had not been cancelled, would Okura have fallen prey to Eguchi's premonition? Would Okura have lost the battle but won the war? Alas, whatever the potential outcome, nothing could change the inevitable; no matter what could have happened, it didn't, and what was done was done. There was no going back…but people would always wonder what could have been…
Okura and Kotano had gone to bed like obedient children that morning, too tired to think about the strange turn of events, of Fukuda's words, of anything. They slept as if drugged…and did not wake until past three in the afternoon.
Kotano was the first to awaken; shocked at the hour, she began to wake Okura –but was stopped by the voice of Hagawargi. He took her aside, unmindful of her crumpled lingerie, and spoke to her softly. He told her of the miraculous change of events, the situation…and how they would benefit.
Okura awoke at twenty past four, after a surprisingly restful rest.
"Oh, shit…" he muttered, remembering the events of the night before, then looking at the clock, "Oh, SHIT!!!"
Desperately, Okura jumped out of bed, and ran into the living room. He didn't even notice that the broken mirror had been replaced. At the table Kotano and Hagawargi were calmly drinking coffee and watching television, as if the greatest moment of his career, no, his life, was over…
"What the fuck is going on…" he gasped, shaking in anger, "why the hell are you just sitting there? I was supposed to be at the stadium over SEVEN hours ago, and you're just sitting here, sipping coffee…
Kotano and Hagawargi looked up surprised at the hysterical Okura, then at each other…and simultaneously burst into laughter.
"…The fuck?" said Okura, beyond confused.
"Oh, Okura-san, we forgot…" began Kotano
"…That you didn't know," finished Hagawargi.
"Know? What didn't, I mean, what don't I know?"
"Okura-san, you just wouldn't believe what happened today," Kotano explained with excitement, "Your race, can you believe this, your race was cancelled. Cancelled! It is scheduled for tomorrow instead…Okura-san, Okura-san, what…are you all right? Okura-san? Okura-san!"
Suddenly Okura couldn't breathe…the ground beneath his feet disappeared…everything went hazy…
"Shit!" Hagawargi leapt out of his seat and caught the faint Okura before he collapsed.
"Oh my God…Okura-san! Speak to me…Okura-san!"
*****
Voices drifted through his conscious, but Okura could not hear them. These words echoed through his head…
{Your race was cancelled…}
{You will be given a sign…}
{You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious…}
"A sign, a premonition, a forewarning…will be given as evidence to lead me towards my destiny, as proof that this is the right path, the right decision…"
(Divine Intervention)
"A second chance, I must then…Eguchi's offering…"
*****
Okura came to in Kotano's arms; she embraced him to her breasts; her eyes, turquoise, gazed into his…Kotano gasped as she saw him gazing into her eyes…his eyes, stormy blue-grey, untouchable even when vulnerable…
"Oh, Okura-san!" she cried, and kissed his startled face passionately, relieved… "Thank God! If Hagawargi hadn't caught you…"
Okura blinked, and struggled to sit upright. "What…"
"You collapsed," Hagawargi answered from his position behind Kotano, "Almost hit your head on the counter…shows us never to tell you anything unless you're lying down…"
"I collapsed…after I heard…" Okura gasped as the realisation hit him. " The race! The race was cancelled…the race was cancelled! Oh my God…" suddenly, Okura jumped to his feet and grabbed the astonished Kotano around the waist.
"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! Cancelled!" He laughed, and swung his lover around in his arms. She giggled, ecstatic, head-over-heels in love.
"I have a chance…I have a chance! I can win…"
(Divine Intervention)
"Oh, Okura-san," laughed Kotano, "Another chance! Oh, I know you can do it, I just know you can!"
Okura put Kotano down, forgetful of her damaged feet. She winced, but was so happy that she ignored her pains. Her eyes sparkled with joy; her cheeks were flushed with colour…a truly beautiful woman.
"Yes…I will win…I know it." He spoke with complete confidence, as if he knew something the others didn't. Okura recalled Eguchi's prophecy, his gift…
Kotano smiled at her lover, happy to see his good spirits return…or was she? There was something about Okura…that was somehow different. Sure, Okura had always been self-assured, but now…what was that glint in Okura's eye? He was confident, too confident...and this was unnerving.
"What happened, anyways?" asked Okura.
"You remember the controversy over the Men's Platform Diving?" asked Hagawargi. (Okura nodded) "Well, it turns out that the French judge had taken a bribe, and gave the French diver a higher score than deserved…naturally, the judge has been removed from her position, and as such the events have all been cancelled for today, for she was scheduled to judge the Men's Synchronized Swimming. All of today's events have been rescheduled for tomorrow."
"Isn't that wonderful, Okura-san," Kotano exclaimed as embraced her lover from behind, kissing his left ear.
Wonderful? It was beyond wonderful, it was incredible, it was unbelievable, it was a miracle, it was…
(Divine Intervention)
…the answer to all of his problems. With this one extra day, Okura knew that he would be able to succeed. He had been given a second chance…and he would not waste it.
"Fukuda-san asked for you to give him a call after you awoke," Hagawargi told Okura.
"Oh, sure thing-just let me get dressed first, Hagiwargi. Man, I'm sure he's pleased, probably happier that I am about it."
Hagiwargi laughed, "That's the understatement of the century. He called me up with the news at six in the morning, said that I wouldn't have to take you to the stadium, after all…probably dancing around the office as we speak."
Kotano burst into laughter at the thought of Fukuda's 300 pounds dancing around, but Okura was strangely quiet.
"I'll be right back, love," Okura said, and left the surprised Kotano and the embarrassed Hagiwargi.
Okura only had one thing on his mind: Eguchi's offering. He strode into the bedroom, and searched the pockets of the clothing that he had worn earlier. The box of 'mints' was heavy. Okura took this box with him into the bathroom…and locked the door behind him. The offering…the contents of this box would change his life forever…
"I have been given the sign; I know what I have to gain…so why is it that I hesitate? Why is it that my hand shakes? Why is it that I'm scared, so scared…why am I afraid?"
{If I am caught…}
{You will not be caught…}
{You must surmount this crisis…}
"But…"
(Divine Intervention)
"I…I…must triumph. I…I will succeed. I am not afraid. I AM NOT AFRAID!"
Shaking nonetheless, Okura opened the box, and held the small mass in his palms. How could something so small make a difference? How could something so small be able to change his life forever?
"I will succumb this crisis! I will succeed! I will triumph over all obstacles…for it is my destiny!"
Okura held the offering above him, and then swallowed its contents. It was done; fate was reversed…
(Divine Intervention)
Okura had taken the steps towards victory, towards the gold, towards immortality…and towards his great downfall.
*****
From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, life following Okura's decision changed overnight. The events that followed were too fast to handle, a blur of extreme exhilaration and deepest depression-one immediately following the other.
As expected, Fukuda was tickled pink about the fact that the race was postponed-and severely warned Okura not to fuck this chance up.
After a rigorous practice with his personal trainer, Okura took Kotano to one of the most romantic restaurants in L.A.: the Café Des Artistes, on McCadden pl. There they enjoyed a romantic candle lit dinner of exquisite French cuisine, in a setting not unlike a French bistro. Neither ordered wine: no alcohol before a race, as they had been threatened by Fukuda, but neither needed alcohol to get a buzz.
After they ate, Fukuda and Kotano strolled through the ritziest area of the city, sightseeing and enjoying each other's company as they had never had before. Kotano walked as if on air; she felt nothing but the warmth of Okura's body so close to hers. They were a head-turning couple, him looking fabulous in a navy blue suit, her looking ravishing in a low-cut wine coloured gown that reached just past her knees.
Okura's passion over his race overlapped into his passion for Kotano, and after they arrived at the hotel, they embraced fervently and ardently. He took her in his arms, and carried her onto the bed, mad with desire. He ripped off his clothes with lightning speed, and hers as well.
They made love desperately, clinging to each other as if drowning…both reached orgasm simultaneously…their bodies hungry for each other. They made love as if they could never getting enough, if they could never fulfill their hunger. Okura was unrelentless; he pushed and pushed until Kotano feared she would explode, she begged him to stop…yet at the same time, wishing that he would never let her go. It was perhaps their best sex yet…and perhaps the best sex they would ever have. Kotano had never felt so turned on, her body had never seemed so alive; Okura had never felt such passion, such desire, before…he wondered if this was what true love was. They finally collapsed, too exhausted to continue, too weak to try…and both were able to fall asleep without worry. Kotano certain that Okura did care for her…and Okura, confident that he would emerge triumphant from the next day's race.
*****
Could one predict the rapid rise-and downfall-of one of Japan's beloved? How divine love could turn to deepest hate in such a short time? How could it be that the smallest act could destroy not just the life of the sinner, but the lives of those around him as well? How could it be that the sins of the father would hinder the child from the moment of birth…and linger ceaselessly?
The great downfall of Japan's beloved Tenou Okura…one man whose actions brought down all those associated with him. How his actions would echo on to the lives of his descendants…a curse of the worst sort.
Could one be so blind as to see himself invincible? Could one be so blind as to think himself above the consequences of other men? Could Tenou Okura really think himself as immune to all failure, to all repercussions of his actions? Why had Tenou done what he did? Was it a matter of self-distortion, of radical belief in his own invulnerability…or was it just stress or desperation?
One could ague any of these points; they are all valid, and all may of influenced his final decision…but Okura's true reason would be known only to himself and himself alone. Okura was not the sort to confess his fears or thoughts…and not the sort of man who would be able to express himself in words. It is entirely possible that Okura was unsure of why he chose to do what he did…but still, whatever his reasoning, nothing changes the fact that he did it. What is done is done; it is pointless to linger over the past when nothing can be done to change it. Repent and you shall be saved…move on, ahead, leaving your pain in the past. Of course, this is not the case of the Tenou family. Their past was primary on shaping their future, their inability to let go…
In the beginning, the plan went off without a hitch. Okura did indeed win the
1 500m race, outrunning the second best by almost three whole seconds! Okura clocked in at an amazing 3:29.54 seconds to the runner-up, Sven Magnussen's, 3:32.53. The crowds went wild…Tenou Okura had made an absolutely marvellous comeback, not only beating the winner of his previous race, not only taking home his fourth gold medal, but also achieving a brand new Olympic record! It was more than anyone could have dreamed of, the greatest honour possible! Okura had fulfilled his dream; now, his name would truly live on.
Although losing the 800m would cost Okura a record 5 gold medals out of five, he tied for second place for the most medals won by any athlete with a fellow Japanese gymnast for five medals total…and tied with an American track athlete for most gold won during this competition. Okura was not the overall highest achiever, but tied for most gold medals one and tied for second place for most medals won in total…that was an amazing accomplishment, and not to mention the new Olympic record!
Fukuda believed that Okura became more famous and admired for losing the 800m, because his fifth race served as a comeback. He had lost, but sheer determination and willpower gave him the strength and speed to outrun the man who stole his title. A brilliant move, Fukuda called it, the best possible outcome.
Kotano had never been happier than the moment when, after the race, Okura swept her in his strong arms and spun her around and around, much as he had done the day before, when he learned of the cancellation. He spun her until she screamed in delight, and, gazing into her eyes, stroking a strand of platinum blond hair behind her ear, he bent down on one knee, and preformed before thousands of onlookers and television cameras.
Of course, Kotano knew of The Plan, and she knew that Okura was going to ask for her hand, but the knowledge did nothing to dull her pleasure. She agreed, tears running down her face, and Okura held her close to him, bent down, and kissed her full on the lips. A beautiful scene; the excitement in the air, the exhilaration left from the race, the cheering of thousands, the flashes of cameras twinkling like stars, the pressure of his lips on her own…too beautiful for words.
Through the throngs of people, Okura was aware of Fukuda, that bastard was crying, he was fucking crying…it was unreal; the entire event was dreamlike in quality…nothing was quite real. Unreal, the day was unreal, and of course, unreality.
Too soon, the bubble burst, and what had the quality of a dream distorted, instantaneously became a nightmare.
After the gold medal was hung from Okura's neck, after a fabulous celebration party hosted by his sponsors, after a night of wild passion with his lover, after all of this came the call. One phone call, and the smiles turned to scowls, the words of love and admiration to hate and disgust, the pride…into deepest shame.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Fukuda had screamed with the rage of a bull. Yes, just what the fuck was Okura thinking when he took a whopping dose of steroids the day before the biggest, most crucial race of his career?
Okura had taken the drug test the day of the 1 500 with remarkable confidence, with the false self-assurance that he would pass free and clear. He had shown no hesitation, no fear. He acted as if he were immune to the consequences of his actions, as if some higher power would prevent his secret from being found out.
"Tenou, you fuck-up! You rat's asshole, you retarded...piece…of…shit!" Fukuda had screamed, the veins on his neck standing out like ropes, "How could you take such a huge fucking dose the day before the race? How could you think that you would pass the test, the test that can detect steroid consumption from a month previous? How could you screw up your chances for nothing? How could you take a megadose of steroids the day before the event, when you know that it takes time for them to build up in your blood before there are any results? You ruined your career for nothing, Tenou! The steroids did nothing…except cause you to fail your test. You would have won the race without them…all they did was give you confidence."
Of course, Fukuda was right. It was the knowledge that the steroids had done nothing to contribute to his success that hurt Okura the most. The fact that he had taken the drugs for nothing, that instead of aiding him win the race, they were the reason for his loss. The steroids effects were useless. Okura would have won the race without them…but that didn't matter to the Olympic judges. Any traces of steroids in your blood, no matter how small, were cause for disqualification. Not just from the 1 500, but from all of his races. So, instead of just losing one medal, Okura lost all five…for nothing.
For nothing…the words that would haunt Okura until the end of his days…he had lost everything for nothing.
The outrage caused was enormous. All of Okura's devoted fans turned on him without hesitation. Their former hero…the man who they admired, who they respected, who they very merely worshiped…was nothing but a cheat. It mattered not that Okura had won the previous races on his own steam, it mattered not that this was the first instance of him using narcotics, all that mattered was that Okura had failed them…and their country.
What made matters worse was the inspirational speech that Okura had spoken just after his race. He had yelled, he had risen his hands in victory, he said that all one needed was determination and willpower to succeed…so damned ironic it stung. Then there was the interview with famous Japanese news reporter Ebisawa Namika, broadcast just hours before the results of the drug test were known…and then there was the inspirational telephone message from the Prime Minister, delivered after the race…and the engagement…that had been the worst. Delivered in the heat of the moment…the undying devotion from Okura to Kotano…that did it. People were unable to stomach Okura's devotion to the young supermodel; the proposal was based on a lie, on his cheating. All of these things combined made the scandal ten times worse.
If Okura hadn't had the massive media coverage, the enormous public support, the publicity, then his defeat wouldn't have been the catastrophe that it was. The public would have been disappointed, to be sure, but would have forgotten in a short period of time. However, because of Okura's celebrity, the steroid incident became a major media scandal. It was broadcast on news stations worldwide, in newspapers, in tabloids and in magazines. Everyone was aware of Tenou Okura's actions, and everyone disapproved. The higher up you are, the harder the fall.
In the midst of the turmoil, Okura had to deal with the wrath of his manager. Fukuda, to put it delicately, was pissed as a tight-assed bitch in heat. After the news had broke, he summoned Okura to his hotel office for an emergency meeting. Also present was his bloodthirsty lawyer.
Fukuda ranted, Fukuda raved, Fukuda swung his fists and sent things hurling at the wall…but after his frustration was spent, he got down to business.
Fukuda phrased things simply and quickly. "Tenou Okura, we're through. Your career is over, finished, kaput. Your career is over. You've lost everything."
Okura protested, he pleaded, he humiliated himself, but Fukuda would not recant his opinion.
"Look, Tenou, even if there was a way to save your ass…I'm through with you. I'm sick of your bullshit, of your idealism, of your damned sense of invincibility. Even if I could salvage something form this mess, Tenou, I wouldn't. You've made your bed, now lie in it. There's just one thing that I'd like to know…why did you think yourself capable of taking steroids and passing the drug test?"
Okura answered, the best he could, "I…I thought, somehow, that I was…an exception, that somehow, I would not fail, that I was protected by…"
(Divine Intervention)
"So you thought you were 'blessed', or 'chosen'? Christ, Tenou, your idiocy knows no bounds. As much as I'd like to chew you out, though, I'm just too fucking tired. We're through, Tenou. You're on your own. Don't let your ass hit the door on the way out."
Of course, Okura lost more than just his manager. He lost his sponsors, his scholarship, his publicity, his chance to be on the Wheaties box, everything remotely connected with his career.
And of course, Eguchi disappeared without a trace.
He was also sued for massive amounts of money. Companies that had contracts for him to advertise their products wanted their money back, plus compensation for the sales losses they were bound to have regarding the catastrophe. Okura's lawyer handled most of the actual negotiations, so Okura was unaware of the legal battles, but he knew the results. He had lost almost all of the money he had been able to accumulate…all that remained was enough to cover his legal bills.
He had left Japan a hero, and returned a pariah. Two weeks before, Tenou Okura had left Japan with the love, prayers and admiration behind him; he returned to their disgust, their hate, and their disappointment. How one mistake could ruin one's life, how a single action could turn the world against one! Yes, everyone had turned on Okura, his manager, his sponsors, his country…all except the one who mattered least of all to him…
Kotano.
*************************************************************************************************
{I know this is long, but I couldn't help myself…as if possessed, I could not stop writing…and its not finished! Don't worry, just one more short chapter and Part One is finished. Stay tuned; the real story is yet to come!}
-Brandt
Around the same time that Okura was running from the laughter of the drunken whore, Kotano was awakened from her trance by the persistent ringing of the phone.
"The hell?" she asked, annoyed. Although Kotano was unaware of the current hour, judging by the darkness of the sky, it was late. Sighing, Kotano left the balcony and entered the hotel room.
She winced with every step, forgetting the pieces of glass embedded in her feet. Kotano moved through the house in dreamlike state, memories of the evening blurred and insipid. Dimly she wondered why the large mirror lay in pieces on the floor, and why there was a trail of blood behind her. The alcohol had not only numbed her feelings, but her body as well.
The phone lay on the coffee table, the ringing shrill and consistent. Kotano checked the wall clock; it was twenty past twelve.
"Who could be calling at this hour? Who has this number?" (Okura…)
Okura! He still hadn't returned! Shit! He had left hours ago…he was all alone; all alone; all alone…
In the city, a city full of dangerous criminals, where there were muggings, murders…and Okura was lost in the midst of it. Okura, her distant lover, who spoke no English, who was unfamiliar with the layout of the city, who became lost in his own world so easily…
Okura lying in the street somewhere, hurt, (dying) in pain, (dying) covered in (blood) … (bloody, so bloody and broken dead dead dead left for dead all alone leaving her all alone)
Suddenly Kotano was knocked out of her trance with the force of a sledgehammer, with the realisation that Okura had not returned, and something could have happened to him…
It could be the police, who had either found Okura or calling for her to identify the body of her beloved…Kotano grasped the receiver in her hand as if it were a lifeline.
"Hello, Marubeni here," answered Kotano breathlessly, fearing the worse.
"Kotano," the voice on the telephone replied, "This is Fukuda. I need to speak with Tenou, immediately."
"Fukuda-san," she grimaced. Kotano hated her lover's manager: his beady eyes, his rasping voice, and his gaze that undressed every woman in passing without shame, as if they were his property… Kotano really hated that fucker.
"I need to speak to him. Now." He spoke with poorly concealed frustration.
"He's not here." Kotano replied.
There was a moment of silence, then "What did you say?"
"He's not here. Okura left, I don't know, maybe four, five hours ago…"
"What?!" he erupted, in shock and extreme anger. "No, I mean, why..., how…" he stuttered. If the situation had not been so serious, the thought of Fukuda at a loss for words would have been comical.
"He's gone. He left in a fit of temper…he was very upset about the 800m and, well, I….I don't know where he went…"
"You don't know where he went….and I only found out about this now…because I phoned you…what the hell is wrong with you? What the … hell … is … wrong … with you?"
Kotano sighed, and rested her head against the wall. She was beginning to get over the buzz of the brandy; the hangover, which threatened to be enormous, began to rear its ugly head.
"The biggest race of his career is tomorrow, no, today, and you don't know where he is? You've been sitting on your ass for FIVE …FUCKING …HOURS…and you don't know where he is? You haven't called the police, or me, or…done fucking…fucking anything?"
"Fukuda is such a rude, insensitive pig," Kotano mused, wondering why his voice seemed so distant when in reality it was loud enough to echo throughout the hotel room. She really wished that he would shut up already.
"…Kotano? Kotano! Answer me! Exactly what time did Tenou leave, and in which direction?" Fukuda's voice penetrated through her thoughts.
Kotano sighed; it was hard for her to focus with the size of her headache/hangover.
"Kotano, dammit, answer me…"
"He left at around seven…but I don't know what direction…he probably didn't know either…"
"Ok. So Okura's been missing for over five hours, and you have no idea where…Kotano, are you listing to me?" (Kotano mumbled something incoherent) "This is what I'm going to do. I'm sending some men out to look for him, all over the city, and hopefully, one of them will find Tenou. You are going to stay right where you are until I send someone over to pick you up. Do you understand? Kotano?"
"Yes, I understand. Goodbye," Kotano hung up the phone in relief. Talking to Fukuda always left her with a splitting headache, and on top of the brandy…
She grimaced as a wave of nausea washed over her, and rushed to the toilet. Tiredly she vomited until she was completely empty of all food, and all emotion. This night had been an incredibly emotional night for the poor girl…all because of Okura.
She should have hated him, but instead all she felt was a familiar longing deep in her chest, an almost physical pain.
"Pain, that's all he puts me through, everlasting pain…"
Things would be different after they married, wouldn't they? Yes, of course they would. Okura would settle down, give up his damned racing, finish college, get a good job as a layer, and make partner in a few years; a very promising future.
"If only he would agree to giving up his racing, though I don't think he ever will. Even though there is a plan for us to become engaged, I'm not sure if he will stick to the bargain…"
The fear that Okura would leave her had always haunted her, but after tonight it had gained control over Kotano, replacing the practical aspect of her mind. The fear of rejection was so great that it had clouded her judgement. Kotano had a premonition that their lives were about to change drastically after this last race. She did not know why, or how, but she feared that this great change would have a drastic effect on their relationship.
Kotano knew what she had to do. It was a risky step; it would mean the end, or at least a large pause, in her career. It would mean a lifelong commitment. It would mean betraying Okura's trust in her. It would mean the end of their lives as they knew them…but Kotano was willing to make these sacrifices. The end always justified the means for Kotano. She would not lose him. No matter how high the consequences.
She got off the floor, her feet screaming in agony, her head pounding, her stomach protesting, but somehow Kotano was able to stand up and reach for the shelf where she kept her toiletries and other hygienic products. Finding what she was looking for, Kotano returned to the toilet and emptied the contents of the small package into its depths. The sound of the flush vibrated throughout the entire room. There was no going back for Kotano, no, now she had made her decision, and had taken the necessary action. The flush of the toilet somehow made the decision final; there was no going back…
*****
Okura followed Eguchi into the vast suite that served as Fukuda's portable office. Against the cream coloured wall lay a large, mahogany desk and a serious looking steel file cabinet. Behind the desk there was a huge, bay window that looked out to the city; a staggering view, as the suite was on the twentieth floor. Before the desk stood a series of chairs. The desk was covered in files and papers. Three telephones were set up on Fukuda's desk as well. The office looked as if it had been in use for years, and not only two weeks.
Okura sat in the chair farthest from the desk, while Eguchi waited patiently before the door like a dog awaiting his master.
"Wonder where the hell he is," Okura thought. It was typical of Fukuda to make his clients wait until he made his grand entrance, but it was still damned annoying.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside the office. The steps continued to rise in volume, as the figure grew closer, then stopped. Fukuda stood in the doorway, his custom scowl in place.
*****
Fukuda had the appearance of a wrestler who was beginning to run to fat. Although his girth was huge, the strong outlines of muscles still remained buried under flab. Fukuda was a large man, standing well over six feet and weighing close to 300 pounds. His face was unlined except for heavy, Nixon-type jowls and deep lines between his eyebrows. His hair was thick and plentiful, dark brown but for his greying temples. His exact age was unknown, but judging from his appearance, Fukuda appeared to be entering his early fifties.
Fukuda had been a linebacker in high school, and had gone pro for several years as an exchange student for an American team after winning a University scholarship. After playing for the University of Georgia for three years, he graduated, and was accepted to play in the NFL, for the Dallas Cowboys. Fukuda had never been an extraordinary player, but was a good, solid addition to the team. He stayed with the team for seven years, until a particularly bad play left him with a trick knee. The injury would not affect his everyday life, but rendered him unable to play football. Fukuda returned to Japan with a degree in business, a ten-year career in professional football, and a vast array of knowledge of the world behind the scenes of professional sports. Fukuda possessed a keen intelligence, a head for figures and a stubborn, take no shit attitude. He set up to become an agent for athletes, financed his own practice, and the rest was history. After twenty years in the business, Fukuda was the toughest, most respected, feared and top of the line agent in the field of athletics.
Although Tenou wasn't Fukuda's only client involved in the 1984 Olympics, he was his most important. Tenou Okura was his next big star; the kid had it in him to be the greatest athlete of his generation. But for all of Tenou's talent, the kid had the sense that God gave an insect. Sure, Tenou was smart enough when it came to schoolwork, but he had no real understanding of the world around him. Tenou had no comprehension of business, of the media or the industry. He did not understand the importance of public opinion, or how to draw upon the masses. Tenou was not simple-minded, but his basic understanding of politics could only be described as nominal.
Tenou was a man who believed that ability and talent were all that one needed to succeed. Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth. True, talent and ability were needed to win the races, but they did not sell on their own. Just why Tenou was a famous name the world over was because of the persistent and constant efforts of Fukuda to broadcast his image.
When Fukuda had first met Tenou, he was impressed by his natural abilities, nurtured without formal training. This boy was as fast as the wind; he was simply amazing. Fukuda had seen Tenou race at a high school event 8 years before, when he had been only fifteen. The reason why Fukuda was in attendance was because he was interested in recruiting a young basketball star that was beginning to make a name for himself; but it was not the basketball that took Fukuda's interest. The Tenou boy, what talent! What incredible talent! Bonus: he was easy on the eyes, and had a powerful charisma about him.
Fukuda approached the youth that day, and offered the young man the chance of a lifetime. Fukuda would be his agent, and provide the young Tenou with a personal trainer. He would also handle the publicity, the contracts, the legal issues, everything. All it would cost Tenou was his devotion-and one half of all profits.
Tenou Okura, being only fifteen and hardly a man of the world, agreed immediately. The offer was too good to be true; his dreams would come true, he would be famous, a champion! The issue of money meant nothing for the boy, for, after all, he had no money of his own at the time, and had no idea on the profits at hand. He accepted the deal without a second thought.
Fukuda set to work immediately to train the boy, and find him a benefactor. For Tenou's personal trainer, Fukuda hired Olympic gold medallist Kagawa Ryoko, a personal favourite. This man, although out of competition for forty years, was an excellent coach who always came out with results. Tenou bonded immediately with his coach, and made steady progress. Although Kagawa was costing Fukuda a fortune, to him it was a worthwhile expense. With each practice, Tenou grew faster and faster until he was able to clock times only reached by record-holding athletes. A worthwhile investment, Fukuda thought.
Finding a benefactor would have to wait until Tenou got recognition, so as soon as Kagawa pronounced the boy ready, Fukuda began to enter him in competitions. The results were amazing; Tenou won every race he participated in! His name began to become known in the world in sports, and it was at this time that Fukuda found him a sponsor.
In Osaka, Hira-Numa was the biggest name in sport and auto equipment. So fitting that they would accept Fukuda's offer and become the official sponsor of Tenou Okura. The money they contributed towards the boy's career was significant, so as Tenou gained in popularity, Fukuda was able to finance an advertising campaign to send Tenou to the 1984 Olympics-which was still four years away.
At this period of time, Tenou was nineteen years of age and just beginning his first year at the University of Osaka, financed by athletic scholarship. The advertising campaign was effective; people from all around the city began to come to Tenou's athletic meets, and his popularity was steadily increasing. At nineteen, Tenou Okura was breathtakingly handsome: tall, bronzed, dark blond hair and deep blue/grey eyes. Girls went crazy over him-which Fukuda used to his advantage.
Everything was going perfectly for the young Tenou-but Fukuda was still not satisfied. Although Tenou had a devout following in Osaka, Fukuda wanted his name to be known countrywide. In order for this to happen, Tenou needed to be featured on television. This way, his image would be broadcast to people from all around Japan-and beyond. But how to generate public interest in a University runner? Enter Marubeni Kotano.
Fukuda knew that the fastest way to media attention was to have a relationship with a celebrity-it was almost a given that the object of the celebrity's attention would get media exposure. So Fukuda set upon himself the task for finding the perfect match for Tenou.
Although Fukuda was a big name in the business, he had no connection with any celebrities other than athletes. Fukuda wanted a bigger name for Tenou, though, a name linked to the entertainment industry. So he began to contact the agents of celebrities. He was able to find a small agency that specialized centrally on modeling. One of the agents suggested his client, one Marubeni Kotano. Marubeni was an up-and-coming sensation; half Danish, half Japanese, who was beginning to take the fashion industry by storm. Her unique appearance, her charisma, her mannerisms had made her into somewhat of a celebrity. She had connections with famous actors, directors and fashion designers, and her name was synonymous with success.
So Fukuda decided that she would be the one to draw attention to Tenou. He encouraged Tenou to strike up a conversation with her in a café that she was known to frequent. Everything was planned; Tenou visited the café everyday until he saw Kotano. He simply walked towards her, asked her out, and she accepted. Poor Kotano, she thought that Tenou was in love with her. She never found out that their entire relationship had been the idea of Fukuda, and that she was only a tool to gain recognition for Tenou.
Poor Kotano, poor girl who thought that Tenou really loved her, that their first meeting had been kismet! Poor, ignorant, stupid girl. Fukuda supposed that he should be grateful towards the girl, but gratitude was not in Fukuda's vocabulary. Women were nothing to him but ornaments, which was how he perceived Kotano. She was nothing but eye candy, another medal around Tenou's neck. Her wants and needs were unimportant and not even considered by Fukuda. He may have been a heartless bastard, but to Fukuda, nothing much mattered other than money and fame. He had been called worse names in his life; the typical one being whoremaster. What one woman thought of him was irrelevant. He worked for himself and himself alone.
*****
Fukuda stepped into his office with the solemn grace of a President, despite his massive girth. Without acknowledging Eguchi's presence, Fukuda sat behind his large desk and began to shuffle through his papers. Eguchi took the hint and left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Fukuda-san," began Okura awkwardly, but one glance from Fukuda shut him up. Okura looked nervously out the window, not knowing how to respond to his manager's cold guise. Okura had expected Fukuda to be angry, to be screaming and hurling insults faster than Okura could process them. Yet Fukuda remained strangely silent. This frightened Okura; he had thought that he could read his manager like a book. His silence came as an unexpected, and unnerving, surprise.
"Tenou Okura," began Fukuda solemnly, "We have been planning your career for many years. Am I not correct?"
Sweat dripped down Okura's shirt. "Uh, yuh-yuh-yes, Fukuda-san.
Fukuda had chosen his words carefully; they had the impact of a bullet, "So, Tenou, why did you deliberately set out to ruin your chances for tomorrow's, no, today's race?"
"I…what? What are you…I, I…"
"Yes, Tenou. You have almost certainly sabotaged your chances of winning this race. It is now four o'clock in the morning. Your race begins at twelve noon; you need to arrive at the stadium at least three hours in advance. So, if you were to fall asleep immediately, and arrive at the stadium exactly after you woke up…so, if you were to do this…you would be left with five hours to sleep. Five hours! Not to mention that you have exhausted yourself by running around for god knows how many hours…and you'll probably be sick…to make a long story short, you've fucked yourself over. Royally."
"I…"Okura stuttered, then fell silent. It was true. He had fucked up. Fukuda was completely right; there was nothing left for Okura to say.
"So, Okura, how does it feel? How does it feel to sabotage your own career? I thought that you wanted success, that you wanted to be immortalized…that you wanted your fucking face on the Wheaties box…do you really believe that you are immune to failure? I think that your success had gone to your head; you really think you are invincible."
"I…"
"But wait, I'm not quite right. You see, Tenou, I think that this last race opened your eyes. It made you realise that you are not invincible, that you are indeed capable of failure. And you couldn't take it, could you? It was too much of a shock…so you fled. You were scared, Tenou, scared shitless…so you ran away, like you always do. Like a goddamned sissy, you ran away, and in the process, eliminated what chances you had of winning the next race. Tenou Okura, you are a coward."
Fukuda's words stung Okura deeply. They were so cruel, and so hateful…but at the same time, Okura was able to recognise their truth. Okura wanted to scream, to shout, and to protest at the top of his lungs…but he was unable to. Fukuda had been exactly on target. He had thought himself invincible; he had thought himself incapable of failure. And Okura was a coward. He was always running away from his fears. Always had been, and probably always would.
"So, Tenou, what do you say to that?" Asked Fukuda cruelly, an angry smirk on his face.
"I…I…" Okura stuttered, speechless.
"As I expected, you're at a loss for words. But that's all right, Tenou, because I don't want to hear your half-assed excuses. I want you to listen, Tenou, and listen well. You will go to the stadium today, and you will compete. Even if you're sick, even if you're fucking dying…I want you there. And I want you to give this race everything you've got-even if it kills you. Have you got that?
"Yes," Okura replied, defeated. He would listen to Fukuda. He would do everything Fukuda said. Everything was his fault. First to lose the race, and then to go running off and ruining any chance he had of winning the 1 500m.
"Good. I want you to wait here until I come back with your girlfriend. We still have one more thing to discuss-and we need her here to do so.
"Where is she, anyways?" Okura asked with disinterest. He had not given Kotano much thought since he ran out on her.
"Would you believe this, on top of everything else, that stupid bitch managed to break a mirror and end up with pieces of glass stuck in her feet." Fukuda laughed darkly. "This stupid bitch apparently just stepped in it, and disregarded it. She was so messed up that she didn't even notice that her feet were bleeding…Jeez, what a night. Anyways, I sent Hagiwargi out to get her, and he found her lying on the floor in a fucking bathrobe…bleeding…and passed out. He brought her to the hospital, where she had the glass surgically removed."
"Oh," Okura replied as if Fukuda had said she went shopping.
"Well, she's due to arrive in twenty minutes or so. I got a call from Hagiwargi a few minutes ago. They're on their way over. She's apparently alright, although it seems that your girl won't be able to go dancing for a while…" Fukuda laughed, a disgusting, rasping laugh that turned into a fit of coughing. He reached into the breast pocket of his expensive, tailored suit and came up with a huge cigar and a monogrammed lighter. He lit it unconsciously, with the grace and ease of a veteran.
"So, Tenou, I'm going to leave you here for a few minutes so you can process what I just said. I'll be back in twenty, thirty minutes, whenever Hagiwargi comes back with that bitch." Fukuda rose to his feet, "Think long and hard, Tenou. I want you to understand just how badly you fucked up." With those final words, Fukuda left Okura.
Okura sighed and buried his head in his hands. Just two days ago, everything had been so perfect…the speed of change was unbelievable.
"What am I going to do?" Okura cried out, his desperate words echoing throughout the room. "Oh, Lord, what can I do? I'm bound to lose…lose…lose…everything! Everything I've dreamed of, everything that I've worked so hard towards…over!"
Okura was irrational, of course. Fukuda's words had left him feeling weak, pathetic…and irrational. Even if he did not place in the 1 500 race, one silver and three gold medals were still an amazing triumph. Sure, the loss would hurt his career, but not cripple it. There were still other events, other races, other Olympic games, even. But to Okura, this defeat, this failure…was the end for him. He was unable to see beyond these events, to rationalize; his mind was in shock, he was incapable of reasonable thinking. Failure…all Okura could see was his failure…nothing beyond.
"Oh, Lord, I have failed! I have gone down in defeat…I" Okura's desperate ramblings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
Desperately, Okura swung his gaze, and to his amazement, he saw the little Eguchi standing in the doorway. Eguchi smiled at Okura nervously, and stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. What the little shit was doing here was beyond Okura. All Okura knew was that Eguchi was invading his personal space, he was a witness to the Great Tenou Okura's breakdown…and this infuriated him.
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Okura shouted, not caring that his voice was shaking, that it could probably be heard by anyone beyond the office, beyond the hotel.
"Please, Tenou-san, I…" he stuttered helplessly, and continued to advance towards Okura.
"Get out! Get the hell out! Just…get…the…HELL...out…"
"Please, Tenou-san, please just listen to me…"Eguchi continued, tears in his large eyes, his voice breaking…but still he would not leave.
This determination, the courage to advance towards the homicidal Okura was what convinced him to listen. If Eguchi was so desperate to be heard…Okura would be damned if he knew what the little shit was going to say…but Eguchi's determination won Okura over. He would give him an audience.
"Alright, I'll listen. Just… make it quick," Okura replied, and then sighed. This day, no these two days…they were really doing a number on him.
Eguchi proceeded forward, until he stood before Okura. He went down on his knees, and gazed into Okura's eyes. This gesture surprised Okura. Eguchi looked as if he were before a priest at confession-or about to propose.
For some reason this cracked Okura up; he laughed until he just about shit himself. A release of nervous tension, or something along those lines. Eguchi looked at Okura with a mix of surprise and fear.
"Sorry…"gasped Okura, "Don't know what came over me…" The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had started. Okura wondered vaguely if he was going insane.
Hesitantly, Eguchi continued to speak after Okura settled down.
"Thank-you, Tenou-san, for taking the time to listen. I know that you are upset…I know what happened yesterday…and I have come to you to help."
"You? Help me?" Okura replied in astonishment. "What the hell could you do to help me?"
Eguchi smiled, shyly. "Oh, Tenou-san, I am not offended by your disbelief. Of course you are wondering what such a lowly being as myself could do to benefit a man as great as you. I tell you, though, Tenou-san, I can help!"
Okura smirked. "OK, so you think you can help me. With what? Can you delay the race? Can you kill that huge fuck Magnussen? Can you help me win this race…"Okura trailed off as Eguchi nodded.
"Yes, I believe I can." The statement was calm, proud, strong…delivered with a force that shut Okura's trap.
"You see, Tenou-san, I have admired you for years, ever since I saw you compete at the Junior Varsity Championships. You probably don't recognise me, but I was a classmate of yours, many years ago. I have always looked up to you, not just because of your skills as a runner, but for your determination and drive. I have always faced uncertainties regarding my path in life…and to witness a man as confident in his dreams and future as you, Tenou-san…It gave me a feeling akin to worship. Don't look at me that way, Tenou-san. That is not what I am implying…I just mean that I admired how you took life by the horns, and followed your dream, against all odds…"
"But look at me now!" Okura interrupted passionately, "Just look at the mess I'm in now! I am no longer confident in my abilities, in my future, in myself…"
"Yes, you may feel this way now, Tenou-san…but you are in the midst of a crisis. When it passes, your strength will return, as will your willpower. You are destined for success, I can read it in your eyes, in your speech…it has been born into you, and there is no escaping it. Tenou Okura-san, you are destined for greatness."
For some reason, Okura felt a rush of confidence return.
"Strange," He mused, "why his words are comforting. What does he know of greatness…yet; I cannot help but believe him. It is true…I am destined towards greatness. I have been chosen to succeed; by a higher power, I have been blessed."
"You must surmount this crisis, Tenou-san. Your following will only increase after they see how you are able to overcome your greatest threat…and emerge victorious. This is a test, Tenou-san…it is up to you to prove that you are indeed worthy."
"Yes, I must win, I must triumph over this obstacle, I must regain my following…" Okura was suddenly drawn out of his epiphany.
"So, I now realise that I am worthy, but how does this help me, Eguchi? How will this knowledge… be of assistance to overcome my greatest crisis?"
Eguchi grinned. "Oh, thou who hath little faith! Did I not tell you that I would be able to help you?"
"Yes, you did…but how? How can you offer me aid…how can you grant my conquest?"
Eguchi glanced around, as if someone lurked in the shadows. He walked over to the door-and locked it. Okura watched Eguchi with a sense of rapture, as if the greatest secret of all time was to be revealed, as if Eguchi had the secret of eternal life…
"Tenou-san, I thank-you for listening to my words, I thank-you for being a positive role-model for me…and I thank-you on behalf of Japan. You have given people hope, Tenou-san, you have given people inspiration, and courage, pride and I would do anything in order to protect these beliefs. So, I offer you my aid…something that will increase your speed and endurance…" Eguchi reached into his pocket and pulled from it a small box that was labelled 'Freshermint Mints'.
"This is…" Okura gasped in shock as he saw the contents of the opened box.
"Yes, they are performance enhancers, the solution to your dilemma. Take them, Okura…and you will succeed."
"But…if I do…I will be discovered, will I not?"
"You will not. Fate is on your side, Tenou-san…I am sure of it. You will be given a sign, Tenou-san, a sign from above which will prove that you are indeed the chosen one…and then you will take the contents of this box."
"A sign? What? What am I looking for?" asked Okura, breathless and on the edge. He felt as if his future lay in the hands of the small prophet Eguchi.
"You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious. Do you understand, Tenou-san? Do you understand what you must do?" Suddenly, the small man known as Eguchi spoke in a tone of commandment, of superiority. He was no longer the nervous little shit that Okura had made him out to be…indeed, Eguchi had taken the form as a forecaster.
"Yes, I understand." Spoke Okura without thought, without consideration…it was if a higher power had spoken for him.
"Then may you succeed, Tenou-san…" Eguchi replied, stood, and left the room in a manner dissimilar from his entrance. In just a few seconds he was gone…the speed of the revelation was astonishing. How twenty minutes could change history…
Okura held the small box that seemed to weigh substantial. Was it the will of the Gods…or just the foolishness of a desperate athlete and a crazy patron? Okura was uncertain, so he decided to wait for the sign that Eguchi had told him of. Whatever that was. He would wait…and if there was a sign of providence, then he would follow Eguchi's directions. If not, then he would disregard them as hogwash. Although he was uncertain, the slight chance that Eguchi spoke the truth awakened hope within Okura. Just a chance…but still. He could emerge from the crisis…if only…
How strange, how Eguchi had seemed to be so insignificant, so un-noteworthy that Okura had dismissed him without a thought…and yet, Eguchi had offered him the solution to all of his problems. The biggest crisis of his life…
"He is not the same as he was…the man that offered me the result…was not the man who led me to this office."
Something about the situation set off alarms in Okura's head, but he was too tired and too desperate to pay them any heed. He stroked the box containing the answer to his problems, and placed it in his pocket. When the time came…Okura would take action. Until then…
*****
The door to the office swung open, and Fukuda entered in his usual, arrogant stride. Clenched between his teeth was his trademark Cuban cigar. He sat behind his desk, easing his girth into the upholstered chair.
"So, Tenou, have you considered our previous discussion?" He asked, stamping out the butt of his cigar in a filthy ashtray.
Okura smiled. "Yes, I have. I am willing to cooperate with you, Fukuda-san. I am going to give this race everything I've got…I am not going to surrender."
Fukuda smirked. "Ahh, confident, aren't we now? Well, that's good, Tenou, I'm glad that you've got your shit in gear…may I ask of the sudden change in your demeanour?" Fukuda's voice was imposing, but underneath his veneer, Fukuda was taken aback. Tenou seemed so sure of himself…twenty minutes ago he was beaten, defeated, depressed…and now he was confident.
"Wonder what the hell is going through his mind," Fukuda thought, "But I guess that's Tenou for you. So caught up in his own world…probably had a forewarning, or something…" Fukuda sneered and laughed inwardly.
As a man practical almost to a fault, Tenou's stupid beliefs and fantasies were beyond Fukuda's understanding. Personally, he thought Tenou was full of shit, but if that shit made him a better racer…then he was all for it.
"I just gave your advice consideration, Fukuda-san," Okura replied.
"And what advice was that? That you run the race of your life…or that you stop fucking yourself over?" mocked Fukuda.
Okura smiled, a look of extreme faith in his eyes. He looked…as if he was able to forecast the results of the 1 500…as if he knew that he was to win.
"Why, both, Fukuda-san. You were right; I have fucked up my chances, but I am willing to fight for the gold! I will give it my all…I will run until I can no longer breathe, if it is necessary. I will not go down…I will triumph!" Okura answered with passion, his eyes sparkling with hope, with courage…with the certainty of one who was convinced his words were true.
Fukuda was impressed with Tenou's fervour, but remained coldly logical. However Tenou thought of himself, he was not invincible. His lack of sleep…his exhaustion…would surely hinder him. Whatever vehemence overwhelmed him, Tenou was not immune to the effects of the human body.
"Let him believe," thought Fukuda. "If his faith helps him win…then so be it. Don't try to break him down; if he loses, then he will break himself. Let him be foolish…after this race, then it is your chance to knock some sense into him. If his conviction is so strong, then he may summon the strength to succeed. Willpower over matter, illogical… yet beneficial.
The door opened, and a large man entered, escorting the pale figure of Marubeni Kotano. She was dressed sloppily in a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater; her hair was hastily pulled in a lose ponytail, and her feet were wrapped in bandages. Her complexion was ghostly pale; her eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She was staggering a bit, possibly the after effects of the brandy, or the anaesthetic used to ease the pain in her feet.
"Ah, you've finally arrived. Thank-you for your assistance, Hagiwargi."
"No problem, Fukuda-san." The large man bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Kotano limped rather pathetically over to Okura, who had barely acknowledged her presence.
"Well, the guest of honour has finally arrived!" Exclaimed Fukuda sarcastically. "Do take a seat, my dear, you seem incapable of standing upright on your own power. Now, don't be shy, any seat will do. Why don't you sit next to Tenou, there, on the right. Yes, yes, dear, just pull up a chair and get comfortable."
Kotano eased herself into the chair on Okura's right. Tears formed behind her eyelashes as Okura had not yet given her a glance, or a thought. She reached for his hand, but he ignored the gentle pressure she applied. His hand was as still and cold as a corpse's.
"My, my, Kotano, but what has happened to you? Your poor little feet…but how I go on." Fukuda cut his false, concerned tone and his voice changed to his usual, take no shit attitude. "You look like shit, Kotano, like road-kill. How is it you plan to stand by your man in his finest hour looking as if you were hit by a truck? Surely, not in this state! How is it you plan to go before the public in this state?"
Kotano scowled, biting back angry words. She also hated the fact that he called her by her first name, not because he liked her, but because he had no respect of any woman. Oh, how she hated Fukuda, that arrogant, spiteful sonofabitch! If she wasn't so hung over, so drugged, then Kotano probably would have spoke her mind-or sobbed like an infant. In her current condition, however, Kotano simply directed a murderous glare at Fukuda and kept silent.
"Well, now that we're all together, there is a matter of importance that I must discuss with you both. As you are well aware, Tenou's last race is today-in seven hours, in fact. And as you are well aware, it is mandatory for all athletes to be in the stadium three hours before the scheduled event. So we have three hours to prepare." Fukuda paused, and swept his gaze over Tenou and his girlfriend.
"What are we supposed to do?" Kotano asked impatiently. She was tired, and an emotional wreck, and desperately wanted to sleep. They had three hours, hardly enough time for meaningless conversation.
"Well, my dear, that is just it. Just what can we do to salvage this situation? Not much. Frankly, we're screwed. There is no possible way to change the inevitable, so I propose that we make the best of an impossible situation. Tenou, after this meeting, you and your 'dear girlfriend' are to be driven to your hotel, where you will both progress directly to bed. No dirty looks, please, what I mean is that you will go to sleep. You will sleep for however long you need, and then will be awoken by one of my men, probably Hagiwargi. Understood?" Fukuda paused to see their initial reactions.
Both nodded in unison.
"Good. Anyways, when Hagiwargi arrives, I want you to get dressed. Tenou, you wear your uniform, to save changing time. Kotano, what you wear is of more importance. I want you to look ravishing, sophisticated-not like a whore who got plastered and went prancing around in broken glass. Wear something chic-don't look at me that way, dear, I know I'm not exactly a fashion expert, so I'll leave the initial decision up to you. Bring sunglasses, as well. Those bags under your eyes are most unbecoming."
"So, you expect me to appear in public in my condition?" Kotano snapped. "Fukuda-san, don't you remember that I just had surgery on my feet? How am I supposed to go out in public when I can't even walk?"
"But you will go out in public, and you will walk. No, don't interrupt me Kotano- just hear me out. If you were able to survive for three or more hours with the pieces of glass still in your feet, in theory you would be able to survive for the same amount of time, sitting down, for the most past, without them. Besides-you have to. If you don't appear, then the rumours will begin. Why is the beautiful, faithful, devoted lover of Tenou Okura not by his side during the greatest race of his career? And how can Tenou propose to you if you're not there? Do you see my point?"
"Yes…yes, I do."
"So you will be there, you will obey me?"
Kotano sighed; she would do anything for Okura. "Yes, I'll be by his side, and I'll dress as you see fit."
"Excellent. Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted…ah, yes, I remember. Anyways, Hagiwargi will then drive you to the stadium, by private entrance, of course. No one should be able to see you. When we arrive, Tenou, I want you to warm up, do your post race practicing, whatever you usually do before a competition. Kotano, I have hired a top make-up artist to prepare you for your greatest role ever. Kagagawa, her name is. Kotano, during the race you will be sitting in the athlete's family section of the stadium. Try to sit in the centre; you'll get more airtime that way. Any questions? (Both shook their heads) Excellent. Now we are ready to move on to your appropriate reactions concerning the outcome of the race."
Fukuda paused, and opened a drawer in his desk. A bottle of vodka appeared in his hand, and a shot glass immediately after.
"Sorry, but I can't offer either of you any of this-you're already impaired enough." Fukuda poured a generous portion for himself, and downed it with a single gulp. "Ahh, that's the stuff; can't live without it, Now, as I was saying, if Okura is to win the race, as unlikely as that is, the plan will proceed as intended. Tenou will give a spectacular speech after his triumph, proposing to the woman he loves in a fit of passion…and so on. The only difference will be that Kotano cannot run into his arms…but nevertheless, the show will go on! Now, if Tenou is to lose…I want you to be humble. Both of you. Tenou, I don't want any explosions, or any waterworks…I want you to shake the winner's hand, and act proud, dammit! Kotano, I want you to be understanding and supportive-the way a proper fiancée should be. And yes, Tenou, I do want you to propose…but not right after the race. During the closing ceremony…but that's another topic; we have no time to go into details concerning that. Do either of you have any questions?"
"No," both replied.
"Good. Well, seeing that it's almost five in the morning…I'll be sending you off. If you have any other questions, Hagawargi will enlighten you on your way to the stadium tomorrow. Good luck, Tenou, Kotano…you'll need it." Fukuda stood up, and summoned Hagiwargi by intercom.
There was a brief silence, broken by the arrival of Hagiwargi mere seconds after Fukuda's call.
"We'll be leaving now. Please follow me to the car, Tenou-san and Marubeni-san," stated Hagiwargi in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
Wordlessly, both followed him out of the office, out of the hotel, and into the luxurious black automobile. Neither spoke for the entire journey, not a word until they arrived at their hotel room and collapsed onto the bed.
"Okura…" whispered Kotano hesitantly, but Okura silenced her with a look. He closed his eyes…and felt the reassuring presence of the box in his pocket. The box that contained the solution to all of his problems…
*****
If the event had not been cancelled, would Okura have fallen prey to Eguchi's premonition? Would Okura have lost the battle but won the war? Alas, whatever the potential outcome, nothing could change the inevitable; no matter what could have happened, it didn't, and what was done was done. There was no going back…but people would always wonder what could have been…
Okura and Kotano had gone to bed like obedient children that morning, too tired to think about the strange turn of events, of Fukuda's words, of anything. They slept as if drugged…and did not wake until past three in the afternoon.
Kotano was the first to awaken; shocked at the hour, she began to wake Okura –but was stopped by the voice of Hagawargi. He took her aside, unmindful of her crumpled lingerie, and spoke to her softly. He told her of the miraculous change of events, the situation…and how they would benefit.
Okura awoke at twenty past four, after a surprisingly restful rest.
"Oh, shit…" he muttered, remembering the events of the night before, then looking at the clock, "Oh, SHIT!!!"
Desperately, Okura jumped out of bed, and ran into the living room. He didn't even notice that the broken mirror had been replaced. At the table Kotano and Hagawargi were calmly drinking coffee and watching television, as if the greatest moment of his career, no, his life, was over…
"What the fuck is going on…" he gasped, shaking in anger, "why the hell are you just sitting there? I was supposed to be at the stadium over SEVEN hours ago, and you're just sitting here, sipping coffee…
Kotano and Hagawargi looked up surprised at the hysterical Okura, then at each other…and simultaneously burst into laughter.
"…The fuck?" said Okura, beyond confused.
"Oh, Okura-san, we forgot…" began Kotano
"…That you didn't know," finished Hagawargi.
"Know? What didn't, I mean, what don't I know?"
"Okura-san, you just wouldn't believe what happened today," Kotano explained with excitement, "Your race, can you believe this, your race was cancelled. Cancelled! It is scheduled for tomorrow instead…Okura-san, Okura-san, what…are you all right? Okura-san? Okura-san!"
Suddenly Okura couldn't breathe…the ground beneath his feet disappeared…everything went hazy…
"Shit!" Hagawargi leapt out of his seat and caught the faint Okura before he collapsed.
"Oh my God…Okura-san! Speak to me…Okura-san!"
*****
Voices drifted through his conscious, but Okura could not hear them. These words echoed through his head…
{Your race was cancelled…}
{You will be given a sign…}
{You will not need to look for this sign…it will be obvious…}
"A sign, a premonition, a forewarning…will be given as evidence to lead me towards my destiny, as proof that this is the right path, the right decision…"
(Divine Intervention)
"A second chance, I must then…Eguchi's offering…"
*****
Okura came to in Kotano's arms; she embraced him to her breasts; her eyes, turquoise, gazed into his…Kotano gasped as she saw him gazing into her eyes…his eyes, stormy blue-grey, untouchable even when vulnerable…
"Oh, Okura-san!" she cried, and kissed his startled face passionately, relieved… "Thank God! If Hagawargi hadn't caught you…"
Okura blinked, and struggled to sit upright. "What…"
"You collapsed," Hagawargi answered from his position behind Kotano, "Almost hit your head on the counter…shows us never to tell you anything unless you're lying down…"
"I collapsed…after I heard…" Okura gasped as the realisation hit him. " The race! The race was cancelled…the race was cancelled! Oh my God…" suddenly, Okura jumped to his feet and grabbed the astonished Kotano around the waist.
"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! Cancelled!" He laughed, and swung his lover around in his arms. She giggled, ecstatic, head-over-heels in love.
"I have a chance…I have a chance! I can win…"
(Divine Intervention)
"Oh, Okura-san," laughed Kotano, "Another chance! Oh, I know you can do it, I just know you can!"
Okura put Kotano down, forgetful of her damaged feet. She winced, but was so happy that she ignored her pains. Her eyes sparkled with joy; her cheeks were flushed with colour…a truly beautiful woman.
"Yes…I will win…I know it." He spoke with complete confidence, as if he knew something the others didn't. Okura recalled Eguchi's prophecy, his gift…
Kotano smiled at her lover, happy to see his good spirits return…or was she? There was something about Okura…that was somehow different. Sure, Okura had always been self-assured, but now…what was that glint in Okura's eye? He was confident, too confident...and this was unnerving.
"What happened, anyways?" asked Okura.
"You remember the controversy over the Men's Platform Diving?" asked Hagawargi. (Okura nodded) "Well, it turns out that the French judge had taken a bribe, and gave the French diver a higher score than deserved…naturally, the judge has been removed from her position, and as such the events have all been cancelled for today, for she was scheduled to judge the Men's Synchronized Swimming. All of today's events have been rescheduled for tomorrow."
"Isn't that wonderful, Okura-san," Kotano exclaimed as embraced her lover from behind, kissing his left ear.
Wonderful? It was beyond wonderful, it was incredible, it was unbelievable, it was a miracle, it was…
(Divine Intervention)
…the answer to all of his problems. With this one extra day, Okura knew that he would be able to succeed. He had been given a second chance…and he would not waste it.
"Fukuda-san asked for you to give him a call after you awoke," Hagawargi told Okura.
"Oh, sure thing-just let me get dressed first, Hagiwargi. Man, I'm sure he's pleased, probably happier that I am about it."
Hagiwargi laughed, "That's the understatement of the century. He called me up with the news at six in the morning, said that I wouldn't have to take you to the stadium, after all…probably dancing around the office as we speak."
Kotano burst into laughter at the thought of Fukuda's 300 pounds dancing around, but Okura was strangely quiet.
"I'll be right back, love," Okura said, and left the surprised Kotano and the embarrassed Hagiwargi.
Okura only had one thing on his mind: Eguchi's offering. He strode into the bedroom, and searched the pockets of the clothing that he had worn earlier. The box of 'mints' was heavy. Okura took this box with him into the bathroom…and locked the door behind him. The offering…the contents of this box would change his life forever…
"I have been given the sign; I know what I have to gain…so why is it that I hesitate? Why is it that my hand shakes? Why is it that I'm scared, so scared…why am I afraid?"
{If I am caught…}
{You will not be caught…}
{You must surmount this crisis…}
"But…"
(Divine Intervention)
"I…I…must triumph. I…I will succeed. I am not afraid. I AM NOT AFRAID!"
Shaking nonetheless, Okura opened the box, and held the small mass in his palms. How could something so small make a difference? How could something so small be able to change his life forever?
"I will succumb this crisis! I will succeed! I will triumph over all obstacles…for it is my destiny!"
Okura held the offering above him, and then swallowed its contents. It was done; fate was reversed…
(Divine Intervention)
Okura had taken the steps towards victory, towards the gold, towards immortality…and towards his great downfall.
*****
From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, life following Okura's decision changed overnight. The events that followed were too fast to handle, a blur of extreme exhilaration and deepest depression-one immediately following the other.
As expected, Fukuda was tickled pink about the fact that the race was postponed-and severely warned Okura not to fuck this chance up.
After a rigorous practice with his personal trainer, Okura took Kotano to one of the most romantic restaurants in L.A.: the Café Des Artistes, on McCadden pl. There they enjoyed a romantic candle lit dinner of exquisite French cuisine, in a setting not unlike a French bistro. Neither ordered wine: no alcohol before a race, as they had been threatened by Fukuda, but neither needed alcohol to get a buzz.
After they ate, Fukuda and Kotano strolled through the ritziest area of the city, sightseeing and enjoying each other's company as they had never had before. Kotano walked as if on air; she felt nothing but the warmth of Okura's body so close to hers. They were a head-turning couple, him looking fabulous in a navy blue suit, her looking ravishing in a low-cut wine coloured gown that reached just past her knees.
Okura's passion over his race overlapped into his passion for Kotano, and after they arrived at the hotel, they embraced fervently and ardently. He took her in his arms, and carried her onto the bed, mad with desire. He ripped off his clothes with lightning speed, and hers as well.
They made love desperately, clinging to each other as if drowning…both reached orgasm simultaneously…their bodies hungry for each other. They made love as if they could never getting enough, if they could never fulfill their hunger. Okura was unrelentless; he pushed and pushed until Kotano feared she would explode, she begged him to stop…yet at the same time, wishing that he would never let her go. It was perhaps their best sex yet…and perhaps the best sex they would ever have. Kotano had never felt so turned on, her body had never seemed so alive; Okura had never felt such passion, such desire, before…he wondered if this was what true love was. They finally collapsed, too exhausted to continue, too weak to try…and both were able to fall asleep without worry. Kotano certain that Okura did care for her…and Okura, confident that he would emerge triumphant from the next day's race.
*****
Could one predict the rapid rise-and downfall-of one of Japan's beloved? How divine love could turn to deepest hate in such a short time? How could it be that the smallest act could destroy not just the life of the sinner, but the lives of those around him as well? How could it be that the sins of the father would hinder the child from the moment of birth…and linger ceaselessly?
The great downfall of Japan's beloved Tenou Okura…one man whose actions brought down all those associated with him. How his actions would echo on to the lives of his descendants…a curse of the worst sort.
Could one be so blind as to see himself invincible? Could one be so blind as to think himself above the consequences of other men? Could Tenou Okura really think himself as immune to all failure, to all repercussions of his actions? Why had Tenou done what he did? Was it a matter of self-distortion, of radical belief in his own invulnerability…or was it just stress or desperation?
One could ague any of these points; they are all valid, and all may of influenced his final decision…but Okura's true reason would be known only to himself and himself alone. Okura was not the sort to confess his fears or thoughts…and not the sort of man who would be able to express himself in words. It is entirely possible that Okura was unsure of why he chose to do what he did…but still, whatever his reasoning, nothing changes the fact that he did it. What is done is done; it is pointless to linger over the past when nothing can be done to change it. Repent and you shall be saved…move on, ahead, leaving your pain in the past. Of course, this is not the case of the Tenou family. Their past was primary on shaping their future, their inability to let go…
In the beginning, the plan went off without a hitch. Okura did indeed win the
1 500m race, outrunning the second best by almost three whole seconds! Okura clocked in at an amazing 3:29.54 seconds to the runner-up, Sven Magnussen's, 3:32.53. The crowds went wild…Tenou Okura had made an absolutely marvellous comeback, not only beating the winner of his previous race, not only taking home his fourth gold medal, but also achieving a brand new Olympic record! It was more than anyone could have dreamed of, the greatest honour possible! Okura had fulfilled his dream; now, his name would truly live on.
Although losing the 800m would cost Okura a record 5 gold medals out of five, he tied for second place for the most medals won by any athlete with a fellow Japanese gymnast for five medals total…and tied with an American track athlete for most gold won during this competition. Okura was not the overall highest achiever, but tied for most gold medals one and tied for second place for most medals won in total…that was an amazing accomplishment, and not to mention the new Olympic record!
Fukuda believed that Okura became more famous and admired for losing the 800m, because his fifth race served as a comeback. He had lost, but sheer determination and willpower gave him the strength and speed to outrun the man who stole his title. A brilliant move, Fukuda called it, the best possible outcome.
Kotano had never been happier than the moment when, after the race, Okura swept her in his strong arms and spun her around and around, much as he had done the day before, when he learned of the cancellation. He spun her until she screamed in delight, and, gazing into her eyes, stroking a strand of platinum blond hair behind her ear, he bent down on one knee, and preformed before thousands of onlookers and television cameras.
Of course, Kotano knew of The Plan, and she knew that Okura was going to ask for her hand, but the knowledge did nothing to dull her pleasure. She agreed, tears running down her face, and Okura held her close to him, bent down, and kissed her full on the lips. A beautiful scene; the excitement in the air, the exhilaration left from the race, the cheering of thousands, the flashes of cameras twinkling like stars, the pressure of his lips on her own…too beautiful for words.
Through the throngs of people, Okura was aware of Fukuda, that bastard was crying, he was fucking crying…it was unreal; the entire event was dreamlike in quality…nothing was quite real. Unreal, the day was unreal, and of course, unreality.
Too soon, the bubble burst, and what had the quality of a dream distorted, instantaneously became a nightmare.
After the gold medal was hung from Okura's neck, after a fabulous celebration party hosted by his sponsors, after a night of wild passion with his lover, after all of this came the call. One phone call, and the smiles turned to scowls, the words of love and admiration to hate and disgust, the pride…into deepest shame.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Fukuda had screamed with the rage of a bull. Yes, just what the fuck was Okura thinking when he took a whopping dose of steroids the day before the biggest, most crucial race of his career?
Okura had taken the drug test the day of the 1 500 with remarkable confidence, with the false self-assurance that he would pass free and clear. He had shown no hesitation, no fear. He acted as if he were immune to the consequences of his actions, as if some higher power would prevent his secret from being found out.
"Tenou, you fuck-up! You rat's asshole, you retarded...piece…of…shit!" Fukuda had screamed, the veins on his neck standing out like ropes, "How could you take such a huge fucking dose the day before the race? How could you think that you would pass the test, the test that can detect steroid consumption from a month previous? How could you screw up your chances for nothing? How could you take a megadose of steroids the day before the event, when you know that it takes time for them to build up in your blood before there are any results? You ruined your career for nothing, Tenou! The steroids did nothing…except cause you to fail your test. You would have won the race without them…all they did was give you confidence."
Of course, Fukuda was right. It was the knowledge that the steroids had done nothing to contribute to his success that hurt Okura the most. The fact that he had taken the drugs for nothing, that instead of aiding him win the race, they were the reason for his loss. The steroids effects were useless. Okura would have won the race without them…but that didn't matter to the Olympic judges. Any traces of steroids in your blood, no matter how small, were cause for disqualification. Not just from the 1 500, but from all of his races. So, instead of just losing one medal, Okura lost all five…for nothing.
For nothing…the words that would haunt Okura until the end of his days…he had lost everything for nothing.
The outrage caused was enormous. All of Okura's devoted fans turned on him without hesitation. Their former hero…the man who they admired, who they respected, who they very merely worshiped…was nothing but a cheat. It mattered not that Okura had won the previous races on his own steam, it mattered not that this was the first instance of him using narcotics, all that mattered was that Okura had failed them…and their country.
What made matters worse was the inspirational speech that Okura had spoken just after his race. He had yelled, he had risen his hands in victory, he said that all one needed was determination and willpower to succeed…so damned ironic it stung. Then there was the interview with famous Japanese news reporter Ebisawa Namika, broadcast just hours before the results of the drug test were known…and then there was the inspirational telephone message from the Prime Minister, delivered after the race…and the engagement…that had been the worst. Delivered in the heat of the moment…the undying devotion from Okura to Kotano…that did it. People were unable to stomach Okura's devotion to the young supermodel; the proposal was based on a lie, on his cheating. All of these things combined made the scandal ten times worse.
If Okura hadn't had the massive media coverage, the enormous public support, the publicity, then his defeat wouldn't have been the catastrophe that it was. The public would have been disappointed, to be sure, but would have forgotten in a short period of time. However, because of Okura's celebrity, the steroid incident became a major media scandal. It was broadcast on news stations worldwide, in newspapers, in tabloids and in magazines. Everyone was aware of Tenou Okura's actions, and everyone disapproved. The higher up you are, the harder the fall.
In the midst of the turmoil, Okura had to deal with the wrath of his manager. Fukuda, to put it delicately, was pissed as a tight-assed bitch in heat. After the news had broke, he summoned Okura to his hotel office for an emergency meeting. Also present was his bloodthirsty lawyer.
Fukuda ranted, Fukuda raved, Fukuda swung his fists and sent things hurling at the wall…but after his frustration was spent, he got down to business.
Fukuda phrased things simply and quickly. "Tenou Okura, we're through. Your career is over, finished, kaput. Your career is over. You've lost everything."
Okura protested, he pleaded, he humiliated himself, but Fukuda would not recant his opinion.
"Look, Tenou, even if there was a way to save your ass…I'm through with you. I'm sick of your bullshit, of your idealism, of your damned sense of invincibility. Even if I could salvage something form this mess, Tenou, I wouldn't. You've made your bed, now lie in it. There's just one thing that I'd like to know…why did you think yourself capable of taking steroids and passing the drug test?"
Okura answered, the best he could, "I…I thought, somehow, that I was…an exception, that somehow, I would not fail, that I was protected by…"
(Divine Intervention)
"So you thought you were 'blessed', or 'chosen'? Christ, Tenou, your idiocy knows no bounds. As much as I'd like to chew you out, though, I'm just too fucking tired. We're through, Tenou. You're on your own. Don't let your ass hit the door on the way out."
Of course, Okura lost more than just his manager. He lost his sponsors, his scholarship, his publicity, his chance to be on the Wheaties box, everything remotely connected with his career.
And of course, Eguchi disappeared without a trace.
He was also sued for massive amounts of money. Companies that had contracts for him to advertise their products wanted their money back, plus compensation for the sales losses they were bound to have regarding the catastrophe. Okura's lawyer handled most of the actual negotiations, so Okura was unaware of the legal battles, but he knew the results. He had lost almost all of the money he had been able to accumulate…all that remained was enough to cover his legal bills.
He had left Japan a hero, and returned a pariah. Two weeks before, Tenou Okura had left Japan with the love, prayers and admiration behind him; he returned to their disgust, their hate, and their disappointment. How one mistake could ruin one's life, how a single action could turn the world against one! Yes, everyone had turned on Okura, his manager, his sponsors, his country…all except the one who mattered least of all to him…
Kotano.
*************************************************************************************************
{I know this is long, but I couldn't help myself…as if possessed, I could not stop writing…and its not finished! Don't worry, just one more short chapter and Part One is finished. Stay tuned; the real story is yet to come!}
-Brandt