Gender Crisis

By Chibi Tsuki

Be forewarned; please do not read if you are offended even by the slightly mention of homosexuality. As the author, I hold no responsibility as it is your own risk.

The first time he stepped into the bar there was something about him that stirred an awakening curiosity in me. Whether it was the grace in which he floated across the room or the warmth of his smile that intrigued me, I remember not. However, his shining hair with red as deep as a blood red rose, his finely chiselled features and his eyes; brilliant like the sparkling emeralds dug from their earthen home, were imprinted deeply into my mind. We were two beings from different worlds; he was the god, a deity, while I was merely a creature of imperfection… and yet our worlds collided.

My name is Kaida Akira, in my third year of university and currently working at the night bar where I first saw him. This particular bar is rather different to the others in the same industry. Owned by my uncle, it is a relatively popular bar albeit its location in the subtler streets of Tokyo. It was in fact a gay bar; a bar where homosexual men flocked and ironically, me, being female, worked there. Apart from my gender, everyone believed that I fitted in. This was perhaps the one thing that pierced through my heart and shattered it like broken glass. I am unusually tall for a Japanese girl; nearing five feet eight. My shoulders are broader than the usual petite frame of my friends, my legs longer and most unfortunately, my face sharper and more angular, and as people have often commented; manly. It seemed, for that reason, I am as qualified to be there as everyone else.

To sum it all up this is me; man-look-a-like female bartender at Side-walk Bar, a bar for gay men.

"Akira-kun­," greeted the familiar yet falsely high-pitched voice of my homosexual uncle, Hatsuda Keiji. His never ending use of the suffix for the male gender had begun when I had first met him after moving to Tokyo in my teenage days. This rather peculiar man whom I had ended up working under is even more feminine than I will ever be. But beneath his layers of make-up, sparkling accessories and exquisite clothes, is a compassionate man whose heart extends past the boundaries of the universe. For that I love him and eventually grew immune to his constant reminder that I was encased with the image of masculinity. Oh, how I wish otherwise. However, if circumstances were different I wouldn't have been able to meet him.

"Keiji-jisan," I responded in return as he rounded into the bar and through to the staff area.

It was around ten o' clock, a time when business started getting busy. I was vacantly staring at the door when he had stepped in, following a frequent customer of ours, appearing rather composed and little less than calm. My eyes were instantly drawn to him, surveying the length of his body, absorbing his every detail including the littlest things such as the way his hair flicked upwards and the neatly manicured fingernails. His full lips were curved into a brilliant smile that would have stunned both men and women alike. Here in front of me was someone possessing all the feminine qualities that had been deprived of me and yet looking very much of his own gender. What made him such, I did not know. I instantly deducted that his appearance in this bar meant that he was very much homosexual. The possibility was ninety-nine point nine percent. The 'straight' society, although is gradually become more accepting would not tread into the threshold of the 'gay'. Knowing that I would never be anything more than a bartender to him, I simply worshipped him silently from my all-seeing corner serving alcohol.

His companion, Yasumoto-san directed him to one of the lounges before gesturing to me that he wanted to order. I nodded and subconsciously wiped my sweaty hands on my apron as I approached them. As I neared the couple I heard Yasumoto-san's unusually calm voice, "Good evening Akira-kun."

"Good evening Yasumoto-san, what would you like tonight?" I asked with a smile, my eyes briefly dared to greet the intoxicating figure beside him.

"Ah Akira-kun," the man in his supposedly late twenties chuckled, "You're as polite as always even though we've known each other for a while now." I nodded out of pure courtesy even though my traitorous eyes were straying to the side. Luckily my will kept me strong and I diverted my attention back on our loyal customer. "Best not to keep you from work, we'll have two of the usual." He said that every time he came with a new companion. However this was the first time he had dismissed me so quickly. But who wouldn't when there was someone as gorgeous as he sitting on the opposite side of the same table?

Once again, I resumed my gazing from my perch noting his every movement professionally without getting caught by either the staff or the customers. That is to say, I have become a profession at staring at beautiful men while seeming hard-working and diligent. In a way being able to see those beauties had its pros and cons. The pros meant that I can see heavenly beings everyday and the cons… well it meant that they were gay and hence untouchable. Except the current object of my fascination was by far the most intoxicating deity I had ever laid my eyes on. Realising that I was merely captured by his appearance I steeled my heart and simply observed him like a kitten intrigued by the fish in the glass bowl. The kitten cannot hear the fish and so can simply be content by staring at it.

Truthfully I had never expected him to return afterwards and had almost completely forgotten about him. Almost. Two months later he showed up in a small group of five; three of whom I vaguely recognised as customers. The group sat closer to my position and I was able to hear his rich baritone voice as he occasionally added a few words concerning the trivialities his companions were discussing. He seemed to lack the enthusiasm the others showed… or perhaps I was simply thinking too much.

My hands mechanically wiped the glasses with the towel while I stared at the cracked skin on my fingers. They were such horrible things; rough and flaky. That was when I suddenly saw a pair of hands clasped around my own. I looked up and instinctively pulled my head back. Lips puckered up for the kiss bombarded my vision as I cringed. Another drunk. Even worse, another gay drunk who had mistaken me for a man.

"Woah, Tanaka! No one's to do any harm to our little Akira-chan," boomed a voice as the thing blocking my vision faded away. The speaker was a good friend of my uncle's and a mentor of mine by the name of Tsujimoto Yu. He was probably the only other who wasn't homosexual here.

Although I was very much used to these events, as were many of our customers, I took a quick glance at him. His left eyebrow was raised and his lips curled up into a wiry grin, looking rather amused. At that moment I wanted to slap myself and hide in a corner. I could feel my face growing beet red and emitting heat as if I had slugged down an entire bottle of concentrated sake. Even if there wasere absolutely no relation what so ever between us, I still wanted him to have a good impression of me. We humans, no matter how much we insist that we are independent beings, strongly depend on the social network that connects us together. So in order for ourselves not to be cast out, we wear a façade that reflects society's social values. With my heart pounding like a leaping deer I forced myself to grin and said, "Tanaka-san really needs to learn how to drink, and the sooner the better." Around me hearty laughter erupted and the nervous tension I had built around myself slowly faded away.

For the rest of that evening I didn't allow myself to turn and take a single peek at him.

My fifth sighting of him in the bar turned out to be rather fruitful. That day happened approximately ten weeks after the kissing incident which had surfaced to my mind every time he appeared. It was rather early that night and I had been running late from my evening lecture and hadn't returned from university until seven thirty. Usually the bar opens at five thirty in the evening and doesn't close until four thirty the next morning. During the late afternoon we cater our dining services which run through to midnight. In my rush to eat a quick dinner and get changed for work, I ran through to the kitchen and begged the staff to cook me some noodles while I ran upstairs to my uncle's and my living quarters. My shoulder bag flew onto my bed as my plain everyday clothes fell unceremoniously onto the floor in one heap. After a record three minute shower, I returned to the kitchen ate slurped down the noodles, seasoned with fish stock.

It was only after I had finished eating that I had noticed his presence at the bar counter. Coincidentally our gazes locked and he, rather cutely I must admit, smiled and waved at me. Stunned, my hand waved back and my muscles twitched to a smile. His left index finger then lifted up and pointed at the side of his mouth. There and then I wanted to slap myself but instead I wiped the offensive piece of food, which I suspected was seaweed, childishly with my finger and licked it. I mouthed him a word of thanks and cleared away my bowl.

"Welcome," I greeted him as I stepped out to the counter. I glanced at the seats on either side of him and realised that they were empty, "and if I may ask, has your companion not yet arrived?" This question I asked out of pure curiosity and a tinge of courtesy.

He smiled at me. "No," his voice was purely angelic and gentle like a warm embrace, "not today. I decided that I'd simply enjoy the atmosphere here today." He seemed rather thoughtful and appreciative.

Wishing to pry further but refraining from doing so I asked him whether I could get him another drink or servicinge him in another way. To my surprise he asked for calpico water. As he sipped the drink through the straw I couldn't help but notice his porcelain smooth skin and his elegant nose. His slender fingers embraced the glass gently. "Bartender," a voice said, shaking me out of my reverie, "give me a Junmai-shu." Compliant, I busied myself to serving the customer.

By the time I had returned he had propped his elbow on the counter and was leaning against his palm. "Busy times?"

"No, and yes," I replied, somewhat discomposed. "Usually later into the evening." Then as an afterthought, "As you'd know." The memory of that embarrassing incident caused me some obvious discomfort.

"Do customers often do that here?"

"What?"

"Get drunk and kiss the bartender?" His question seemed rather… innocent.

I laughed away my uncertainties. "Well I suppose it depends who you're dealing with. Things get a bit crazy here and well," I paused for a bit of effect, "things happen." Quickly amending it, I added, "Mostly just small things, like that."

The answer seemed to satisfy his question as he continued on to the next one. "How's working here different to other places?" Truthfully I didn't know and admitted so. I explained that this was my first proper job and that I had received my catering license at this pub.

When silence hovered between us, I took a careful step and nonchalantly asked, "So how did you know Yasumoto-san?" That was the man he was with the first time he had come to this bar.

"Well we're actually colleagues although we work in different departments of the same company," he simply stated.

Trying on a bit of customer flattery I uttered, "To be working in a company in your youth, you must be very talented. You seem no older than twenty-five!" It worked for he chuckled adorably.

"To say that I am talented is an overstatement. I will be turning twenty-four in a month's time and I am simply given the simpler share of work." That I later realised was simply his modesty for he was in fact working in a managerial position of a large corporation. "Well I'd better get going," he stated, taking out a thousand yen note and placing it onto the counter before reaching behind for his jacket. "Keep the change, Akira-san."

I was startled. He noticed my shock and interpreted it differently. "I'm sorry if I have offended you by calling you on a first name basis."

A heated blush rose to my face and I shook my head enthusiastically. "No, not at all!" Overcoming my giddiness, I remembered to ask for his name.

"Minamino Shuichi. But you can call me Shuichi."

"Hai, Shuichi-san."

He gave me another dazzling smile, leaving me with the words, "Until next time."

Being able to call him on a first name basis was in fact not the main highlight of that night, but to be recognised as a woman, was. Whether he was homosexual or not, I didn't manage to find out that night, but knowing that someone could see the feminine me gave me even greater joy. Although that isn't to say my gender crisis was solved…

Definitions:

I'm sure you avid anime/manga fans would know most of these Japanese words but I thought I'd clarify them anyway.

san – suffix for woman and older men

kun – suffix usually for boys and younger men, sometimes used for subordinates; male and female

chan – usually used for females, varies on occasions

jisan – uncle

Junmai-shu – a type of sake

This is simply a one-shot that has been itching for me to scribe. The idea kept haunting me and although I have rough concepts for what may continue it may be best to leave it like this. I don't know, any suggestions?

Well thanks for reading!

P.S. I don't own Kurama.