AN:
Thanks to Aja for prompt beta reading.
Don't read into the
religious sub-text too much. I picture Kitazawa as more American than
Japanese, and that he doesn't practice any religion. His culture
has colored his views of sin and punishment and he uses terms like
Heaven and Hell the way an atheist or agnostic would, without real
belief behind it.
Remember, to read is human. To comment is
divine.
Nolan
Sacrificial Lamb
I leaned against the outside of the chain link fence with my hands shoved in my coat pockets, waiting for my brother to be dismissed from school. The final bell rang and within seconds a flood of happy children charged outside.
"Yuki!" Yoshiki cried out in delight as soon as he spotted me. He ran towards me with both his arms and smile stretched wide.
My little brother's unbridled happiness sent a twinge through my chest. I knew it was a mistake to come to pick him up, but a man like me is far beyond the help of simple logic.
Yoshiki hit me with all his seven-year-old force and locked his arms around my legs in a desperate hug as if it had been months since we last saw each other, not earlier that morning. "You came!" he said, bouncing on his heels with excitement.
I smiled and ruffled his hair. Soft as down. Another mistake. "I had some time so I thought I'd walk you home from school," I said.
"Mm-kay!" Yoshiki said brightly. He reached out his hand to take mine and I faltered. I should have told him that he was getting too old for it, that big boys don't hold hands. Instead, I closed my hand around his little, sticky fingers and hand-in-hand we walked toward home.
The white tablecloths of a nameless café called out to me as we passed. "Do you want to get an Italian soda on the way?" I asked, jerking my thumb towards the café.
"Yeah!" Yoshiki said, already tugging on my hand. He was never the type to turn down the offer of free sugar.
Inside, the café was dimly lit with dark wood paneling on the walls. It looked seedier on the inside than it had on the outside, but at least the service was friendly. I bought an espresso for myself and an Italian soda for Yoshiki. He wanted to sit outside in the sun, but I said I preferred to stay indoors and he didn't complain.
Yoshiki giggled at the tiny cup that held my espresso. "Did you get that off the kids' menu?" he asked. I shook my head, but couldn't help but laugh a little.
Yoshiki peered at the syrup that hovered heavily at the bottom of his glass and frowned. He prodded at it with his long straw, but the ice got in his way so he fished a spoon to the bottom and began to stir. "Hey, your soda's going to go flat," I warned. Yoshiki ignored me and continued to stir until he'd splashed soda on the table and an ice cube went skidding across the tiled floor.
"I'll get it!" he volunteered. He sounded cheery, as if spilling the ice had all been part of some master plan.
I must have told myself ten fucking times not to look, but I did anyway. As Yoshiki squatted to scoop up the runaway ice cube, I stole a glance at his pert backside. The depth of my own depravity made me feel ill. That made it all right, didn't it? Surely, a madman wouldn't know he was mad. If I know what I'm doing is wrong, then there's still hope for me to correct myself. It wasn't the first time I clung to such tissue paper logic, and it wouldn't be the last.
When Yoshiki returned to the table, he wadded the ice cube in his paper napkin and a look of concern furrowed his young brow. "Onii-chan, you're bleeding," he said.
I had no idea what he was talking about, but his eyes locked on to the lower half of my face. I touched my first two fingers to my lower lip and they came away red with blood. I must have been biting my lip. "Don't worry," I said, pressing my napkin against my lip, "Just dry skin." I smiled reassuringly and Yoshiki visibly relaxed.
"Are you really tutoring a little boy like me?" Yoshiki asked. He swung his skinny legs back and forth under the table and fumbled with his straw.
"That's right," I said. It was eerie to hear Yoshiki ask about Eiri. After all, he was the one who—
"But you mostly teach older kids, right?" Yoshiki asked.
I nodded. I tutored as a part time job to earn some extra money to help me towards my graduate's degree, but I usually taught high school students and undergrads. "That's right," I said, "But Eiri is very smart for his age so he gets a grown-up tutor."
Yoshiki suddenly looked pouty and withdrawn. It made me immediately want to rescind whatever I'd said to put that look on his face. "You don't… like him better than me, do you?" Yoshiki asked in a hushed voice.
I reached across the table to squeeze his little hand and smiled at him reassuringly. "Of course not," I said, "No boy could ever take your place."
Yoshiki smiled at this, but my own words sent dread through me. Eiri was a replacement; that was the whole point. That had been the plan ever since my interest in my little brother turned into something I could not possibly deny, and finally twisted into something I could scarcely resist.
I tried everything to cleanse myself of that desire—ignoring it, indulging in pornography, hurting myself; I even tried to push Yoshiki away. No solution would last, and I knew that feeling inside me would not be denied forever. It was something I needed, but I could never do it. How could I ever lay a hand on my own brother? On the other hand, how could I hold back?
The solution came by chance when a man named Seguchi hired me to tutor Uesugi Eiri. The little blond boy was twelve years old and very bright. He could never compare to pretty Yoshiki, but Eiri had his own feminine beauty about him. He made a good replacement.
The fact that Eiri fell for me just made it easier. It was ideal, really—a sign that this was meant to be. I tried to convince myself it was Eiri I wanted, not my brother. After only a few days of feigned desire, my student responded with interest of his own. I guessed Eiri had been abandoned when he was younger, or perhaps his parents were suffering a particularly messy divorce and that was what brought him to New York. Whatever it was, the boy needed love and was ready to cling to anyone willing to give it. He fed off my interest in him and my affection like he was starving for it. I lavished him with all the feelings I could never let myself unleash upon my brother.
Yet here I was in a café, telling Yoshiki no boy could ever replace him. Was that some sort of dark prophesy? I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I had to believe it was the lesser of two evils. Yoshiki was a sensitive boy, perhaps not the brightest, but no child was ever so kind and loving. Eiri was… Well, he was older, for one, and quick as a whip. He had a family rich enough to send him to New York and hire a private tutor. Surely with an intellect like his, Eiri would find a way to recover. Any psychological damage I put on Eiri would be something from which he could spring back. Heck, the kid even returned my interest so he was practically asking me to--! But if it was Yoshiki… That little angel would never recover.
I knew that I was doomed no matter what I decided. Was it so wrong for me to choose which lamb would be sacrificed?
"There's no one I love more than you, Yoshiki," I said.
Yoshiki grinned around his straw and noisily slurped up the last dregs of his soda. "Okay, I'm ready to go!" he announced. I took his hand in mine again and we resumed our walk home.
I make no apology for what I am because I know I am beyond hope of correction. Cursed with this need, it remains my choice to feed it. I think of what I intend to do to Eiri and it makes me shudder with shame. Yet, even when I feel the flames of damnation licking at my skin, when I see my brother's smile it feels like Heaven's light.
