Part Two
Kazutaka Muraki: The bonds of darkness
"Spring has come and the branches bend, heavy with their burden of cherry blossoms.
"The children play, run and sing. The world around me is filled with laughter."
Kazutaka Muraki sits with his back leaning against the wall of the veranda, gazing at the milky-white and silver half-moon suspended in the indigo-hued sky, with its retinue of myriad twinkling stars in attendance. He smiles approvingly, delighting in the resonant and lilting, deep male voice accompanying the melodious sounds of the koto, its strings being worked by graceful hands nimbly moving to and fro, dancing like pale butterflies across the instrument.
"But inside my heart, a harsh winter has descended, for my lover has told me he is leaving.
"Why can I not go with you, I ask, as he wipes the tears upon my face with warm, gentle fingers.
"Because you cannot follow me to where I am going, my love, he tells me."
The listener turns his face from the sky, his gaze and attention now completely directed at Oriya. He realizes that he has not heard this song before and wonders if the lyrics and music are being composed extempore, knowing that his friend is extremely talented in this respect. He inwardly chuckles, remembering the numerous patrons of Oriya's business establishment, going there occasionally exclusively to hear him sing, instead of merely to dine or indulge in pleasures of the flesh.
A smile of amusement plays upon Kazutaka's lips as he recalls the many men among Oriya's clientele, whose tastes preferred or included masculine flesh, their hearts crushed by his friend's outright spurning of their amorous advances.
As he sweeps his natural eye over the man, attractively clad in a rust colored kimono, bound with a sash of yellow and orange motifs, his long legs tucked beneath him, emotions, long forgotten and buried, begin to stir deep within Kazutaka Muraki, causing chills to zip along the length of his back, making the tiny hairs on his skin stand on end. His senses are riveted now on Oriya, everything around him seeming to fade away, his vision seeing only the man a few feet away from him, who sits at his instrument, back straight and strong upper body still, the head bowed, his concentration focused solely upon his singing and playing. His hazel eyes appear distant, catching the light when they open every now and then. Shiny strands of his long dark mane billow and swirl when a sudden breeze catches them, and when they fall back into place, Kazutaka feels a tear tracking down his cheek.
"When will you return to me, I ask, even though I already know what his answer will be.
"He does not reply but only sighs, and I smell his breath, as sweet as the scent of the pink petals dancing in the wind."
Kazutaka finds himself holding his breath as Oriya's voice dips, holding the word 'sweet', quavering, his vocal acrobatics astounding as always. He is staring at the fine-boned face, in repose now with eyes closed and lips still, intent upon the music crafted by the ever-moving hands upon the koto.
Still so very beautiful you are, Oriya! You have not changed much since I first kissed your sweet, eager lips. What an exquisite doll you are! You have even dressed yourself especially for me; I recall purchasing that very robe for you. How very long ago it seems, that day I dressed you in that garment myself, thrilled by the rising blush in your cheeks. Your lovely eyes held me spellbound and I lost control, almost tearing the fabric as I disrobed you… felt you shudder beneath me when my hands slid between your thighs…
Oriya takes up his singing once again, pulling Kazutaka back to the present. Dazed by a heart-wrenching sense of nostalgia, he watches Oriya's fluttering hands, his heart beginning to race when an alternate image of one of those hands – grasping the hilt of a katana – flashes in his mind.
What versatile hands, capable of eliciting such emotive sounds from your koto, as well as wield your katana with such strength, slicing it through the air with such precision.
He had always enjoyed observing his friend at his swordplay, thrilled by the power controlling and propelling the swings and thrusts of his blade, deadly enough to maim or kill if he so chose.
Yes, he remembers now, back when they had been lovers, he had been amazed and aroused by the fact that Oriya's brute strength seemed to desert him whenever they made love. During their passionate play, the powerful body seemed to transform into a submissive, supple instrument waiting to be played, lush and desirable in its need to be caressed, to be loved and to give pleasure. The contrasting states of Oriya's body, oozing masculine strength one moment, and femininely pliant when in bed with him, held a mysterious power over Kazutaka, filling him with a desire so intense that it seemed nothing and no-one could quench it. But, time and again, laying and joining with Oriya did completely slake his passionate urges.
More hazy memories waft through his mind: Oriya, his eyes wet and sorrowful, holding him tightly, rocking him as he clung to his friend, his grief pushing him to the edge of madness. At his parents' funerals, seeking out Oriya's face among the mourners, finding it and focusing on it to hold himself together. Oriya, always at hand, taking on the multiple roles of parent, brother, cherished friend and, eventually, lover. Oriya's love and support making him forget his pain, bringing him to a point where he thought he knew what he wanted – to heal and tend to the sick, going home to a peaceful life and the arms of Oriya. Both of them turning twenty, exchanging vows and rings…
Ah, yes, I remember… the air was so sweet and fresh with the approach of spring…I wanted to rip your clothes off and make love to you on the grass, under the stars…I had been so deeply in love with you then, hadn't I…? Where is your ring, the one you placed on my finger that day?
Kazutaka's brow furrows as he tries to remember what had become of that symbol of Oriya's love, but draws a blank; his mercury-colored iris shifts to Oriya's left hand. There, encircling his third finger, a band of gleaming platinum.
I remember! You kissed me after you read the engravings on the inside of the ring… I placed it on your finger as I told you… Why have I not noticed it there, all these years? Why have I not remembered these things before now?
Oriya's voice pierces the fog in his mind and his vision blurs before everything around him begins to tilt and spin madly. He shuts his eye tightly, clutching his head with his hands as a vile sickness rises in his chest.
"My lover turns and begins to walk away from me.
"What shall I do, what shall I say, what can I do to make him stay?
"I will wait for you, I whisper, even though I know he will not hear me.
"When dawn comes, the one who was left behind lies cold and still upon the bed, never more to wake, never more to wear gaily colored kimonos, never more to laugh, dance and sing."
Oriya glides his right hand over the koto. The picks attached to his thumb and fingers pluck the last notes of his song, the sounds gradually diminishing in volume, his lament reaching its end. His eyes are moist as he draws a deep breath and bows his head. When he raises his head at last, his eyes seeking Kazu's face, he is stunned to discover the ashen, bewildered countenance, cheek beneath his left eye streaked with tears.
Overcoming his initial shock, Oriya rushes over to his friend, dropping to his knees. Pulling him close, he cradles Kazutaka's body against his chest, bringing their heads close together. With renewed shock, he realizes Kazu's robe is damp with sweat. Pressing his hand to his forehead, he panics when he feels the icy sweat pouring from the skin beneath his hand, terrified that he may have suffered a heart attack.
"Kazu! Kazu! Can you hear me? My love, please hold on, Kazu…"
The head he is holding begins to shift, its left eye, dull and glazed, rolls upward before a violent spasm rocks Kazu's body.
Oriya sobs as he holds on to Kazu's stricken, writhing frame.
"Oh, my love," he cries, clinging desperately to his beloved, until the spasm passes and Kazu's body lies still, limp in his arms. He is somewhat relieved that Kazu has not slipped into unconsciousness and that his eye is still looking up at him.
"Kazu! I must get you to a hospital. You are very sick, Kazu. I will call Yoshida to come get us, please hold on, please, hold on for me…"
Damn it! My phone's in the living room…
"Kazu, just lie still here, I'll be back…"
"No. No hospital," Kazu murmurs, pulling Oriya close. "Don't leave me, stay with me, please…"
"Kazu, please, I must get help…"
Kazutaka's hands cling to Oriya's arms, moving his head feebly from side to side.
"I'll be all right, it's nothing, I'll be fine, stay with me…"
Oriya releases a ragged sigh. He feels Kazu's rapid breathing begin to slow down. As he has been doing since pulling Kazu close to him, he continues to silently invoke the name of the goddess he believes in, pleading to that deity to help his friend. His lips move as he soundlessly recites the incantations to summon the deity's healing power, his hand slowly moving over Kazu, stroking his face and chest, until at last, he sees the dullness in the silver eye diminishing. Encouraged by this, he carries on his silent praying, while thanking his deity repeatedly for answering his prayer. He is aware of an unaccountable exhaustion creeping over his body, a feeling akin to one of having fought a long, hard duel with his katana, only more intense than that, and a part of him is puzzled by this sensation as he has never experienced anything like it before.
Kazu's voice, whispering and hoarse, stirs him and he feels a clammy hand on his cheek and looks down to see the silver eye, staring at him in wonderment.
"Oriya? Is it you?"
"Yes, Kazu, I'm here. I won't leave you, I'll always be here for you."
"Where have you been? It has been so long since I've seen you… where have I… what have I… oh, dear gods, what have I been doing…?"
Oriya draws a sharp intake of breath, half-afraid of believing what he is witnessing. There is something… something, an expression in Kazutaka's face that he has not seen for a long time. It reminds Oriya of his childhood days - being frustrated by the rainy season because he could not go out to play in the sunshine. And then one day, looking out of his window to find the sun, a part of it peeking out of a break in the dark clouds. As he watched, the sun's rays finally conquered the rain clouds, filling young Oriya's world with joy…
He presses his lips to Kazu's damp forehead, his tears flowing anew. But these are tears of joy, not sadness. He rains kisses on his beloved's face and is totally unprepared for what ensues –
A sudden, horrific force jolts his body backwards, lifting and hurling him yards away from Kazu, slamming him heavily against the far wall of the veranda. He lays there, helpless and moaning, limp where he has fallen, his whole body wracked by excruciating, burning pain. He wills himself to turn his head, trying to locate Kazutaka with his eyes. His eyes widen in horror, for there is Kazu's body, lying on the floor, writhing again in a fit, spasms twisting his body grotesquely, mouth gaping and roaring in pain, head thrown back, his neck muscles bulging. A thick mist surrounds him, forming a black aura around him.
"No, Kazu, no…" cries Oriya brokenly.
Just before he feels a blackness beginning to wash over him, he sees Kazu's body rising in the air, lifted by the mist, which shifts and swirls, gradually taking on the forms of numerous, black arms and hands. Weakly, he calls the name of his deity for aid, but with crushing sorrow, he knows he is losing the fight.
The last thing Oriya sees with blurred vision before passing out is Kazutaka, enshrouded in that churning miasma of black vapor, and several pairs of eerie red eyes, glowing ominously from among the slithering, twisting dark shapes.
"Kazutaka…"
End of part two
To be continued in Part Three: Asato Tsuzuki & Yutaka Watari: Secret passions