Vol 4 Chapter 1.1 (2/2)
The car stopped. Inky-black darkness still surrounded them outside.
”This is―?” It was different from the usual place Rikiga prepared.
”It's a hotel.”
”Hotel?”
”A long time ago, this used to be quite a fas.h.i.+onable one.” Rikiga got out of the car, and lit a lamp. ”The girl and her family have made this place their home. The girl said she'd only take customers if it was in her room, and she wouldn't have it any other way ― she's still a child, she's probably afraid of going to strange places.”
”But―”
”It's nothing to worry about. We've had her family removed temporarily. Tonight, you and the girl are the only ones here, Fura-sama. ―Ah, no, that would be wrong. She also has her dogs.”
”What?”
”Dogs. The girl's father runs a business that deals with dogs. There are swarms of them here.”
Fura couldn't imagine what kind of business would deal with dogs. A pet shop was certainly out of the question. Were the dogs skinned and sold as meat?
”If you'll follow me, then. I would advise you to watch your feet.” Rikiga swung the lamp over. Fura glanced at his profile, and carefully put his foot forward.
He did not trust this man, Rikiga. He had not a thread of trust for him. But Fura knew for certain that he was a regular and highly valued customer for Rikiga. There was no way a man like him, who loved, prized, and trusted money above all, would harm his best source of income. In that sense, Fura had never felt any apprehension toward the man that was now walking a few steps before him.
This building that Rikiga had said was once a fas.h.i.+onable hotel, was now half-crumbled and mostly ruin. Countless pieces of rubble littered the ground, and there were puddles everywhere. The floor was slippery, but whether it was because the flooring was rotting, or because moss was growing on it, he didn't know. He was unsteady on his leather-shoed feet. The wind nipped at his cheeks. They ascended the stairs. He smelled a faint, strange odour. It was an odour he had never smelled inside No. 6, and he had no idea what it could be. They crossed a bare, s.p.a.cious area that looked like it had been a lobby, and ascended further still.
”Oh―”
He spoke without thinking. His feet were rooted to the spot. It was what looked like a narrow hallway that stretched straight before him. At least, it looked like it ran straight into the darkness, but he had no idea what was beyond the darkness that shrouded it; Fura's eyesight, unused to darkness, could not make it out.
Lit by the dim light of the lamp, he could see shadowy figures hunched over here and there.
”Dogs?”
”Yes.”
”Why are there so many? For what purpose...?”
”Ah, well, there are many reasons, but nothing to do with high officials of No. 6 like yourself,” Rikiga said. ”It's nothing to be concerned about. These dogs are quiet, they won't bite or attack you. ― Alright, here we are. The girl is inside this room.”
Just as Rikiga had said, the dogs remained curled up on the ground, perfectly still, without growling or baring their teeth.
”Right here, this way. After you,” Rikiga ushered him in.
There was a shabby wooden door before him. Perhaps it was the lamplight that did it ― the aged door looked warm and gentle to his eyes. It was like a prim old madam. There she was, sitting in a pool of sunlight, beautiful, with snowy hair. She had knitting needles in her hands, and a white ball of yarn in her lap―
Fura turned aside, and cleared his throat a few times. He had long hidden this bad habit of his to lapse into daydreams. If any of the higher officials at the Central Administration Bureau found out that he had this tendency, it would mean dire consequences for him.
In No. 6, imagining, weaving stories, speaking of dreams, and daydreaming were frowned upon and avoided like the plague. There were no official rules or prohibiting laws, but among common citizens, it was the object of ridicule and contempt; in central organizations, it was seen as inappropriate, and a valid reason for job termination. You would be removed.
The door opened. Its silver k.n.o.b was manually-operated, of course, and the door screeched stubbornly as it opened inwards.
It was a low-ceilinged room, and it was dark. The only lighting came from Rikiga's lamp and a single candle in a stand on the table. It wasn't too cold, probably owing to the fact that there were no windows. But the m.u.f.fled howling of the wind still echoed in the room. Various whistlings and moanings overlapped in layers like a symphony, tangled with each other, and reached his ears. He wondered how this place had been built.
The only pieces of furniture in the room were the table that held the candle, a rather shabby part.i.tion, and a similarly pitiful bed in a corner of the room. A figure was sitting on the edge of it with a blanket over his head, curled up as if to shrink into himself.
Rikiga was right, she was small. The legs that protruded from the blanket were pitifully thin. But they were shapely. They were slender from the knee-down, and if they had a little more flesh on them, they would probably have been a beautiful set of legs, indeed.
”How is she?” Rikiga whispered at his ear. ”A gem, wouldn't you agree, Fura-sama?”
”Maybe. I can't tell yet.”
Fura lowered himself onto the bed, and slid a hand around the small body wrapped in the blanket. He could feel her trembling slightly.
”Are you afraid? ―Don't worry, there's no need to be.” He took off his coat, and drew her closer, blanket and all. He could feel the trembling becoming more violent in his hands. The blanket fell away from her head, and her hair, black as night, and delicate neck exposed itself to Fura's eyes. Since she had her face turned away in defiance, her neck showed even more. Fura could tell even in this darkness that the skin was smooth and supple. And it was tan-coloured.
I see. This one may be a gem after all.
He brushed the long hair aside and let his lips travel up her neck. There was a faint smell. It was the same scent as what he had encountered on the stairs. It was the smell of a dog, a beast. But instead of diminis.h.i.+ng Fura's desire, the smell spurred it on even more. It was a smell he wouldn't have gotten in No. 6 even if he had wanted to, because of its perfect hygiene. This body was thoroughly soaked in this scent, and it excited him.
”Well, then,” Rikiga said, ”I guess I'll excuse myself. Enjoy.” Rikiga made for the exit with an absent smile on his face. Fura stopped his hand, which had been in the middle of stroking the girl's thin leg. For the first time, a suspicion flitted in his breast.
”Wait,” he commanded shortly, to the man who had his back turned to him. Rikiga swung around lethargically.
”Something the matter?”
”Don't you find it strange?”
”Strange? What, may I ask?”
”Why haven't you asked for my payment first?”
Rikiga's face tensed. Then, after a while, he muttered ah, yes, payment, to himself.
”You always ask me to pay beforehand. Why haven't you brought it up tonight?”
”Oh, yes, of course. I'd forgotten.”
”Forgotten? You? About money?”
The suspicion grew inside him. This man? Forget about money? He, who was more greedy and miserly than anyone, forget ― he found it hard to believe.
His doubt and suspicion grew into unease. Things were different from usual. Why? Why―
The small body leapt up out of Fura's arms. The blanket slid to the floor.
”Cut this s.h.i.+t out, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” he snarled. ”I've had enough of this. You must be f.u.c.king kidding me.” Fura gaped open-mouthed at the boy who had whipped his hair around and was baring his teeth, pelting him with profanities.
”Rikiga, who's this?”
”He is who he is, sir.”
”You told me you 'd prepared a young girl.”
”Young girls, young boys, it doesn't make much of a difference. I thought perhaps you had those kind of preferences hidden somewhere within, Fura-sama, and you just hadn't realized.”
The black-haired youth bared his teeth even more. He was almost like a wild dog.
”You can stop making s.h.i.+t up, alcoholic old man,” he growled. ”Why didn't you follow the plan? I'm gonna turn all three of you into mincemeat and throw you to the dogs. You're paying for this, b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.”
Plan? Three of you? What was he talking about?
Fura gathered his coat, and stood up. He put his arms through the sleeves and glanced around the room. The four corners were dark, and the darkness was eerie.
Either way, it was dangerous to remain here.
”Where to?” Rikiga stood in front of the door, barring him with a wan smile.
”I'm going home. Get out of the way!”
”Please, please, do calm down,” Rikiga said silkily. ”It isn't like you to be so uncouth, Fura-sama.”
”Out of the way, or else―” Fura clenched his hand around the small handgun in his pocket. It was an electric gun, not very effective as a killing weapon, but enough to defend himself. He pulled it out and aimed it between Rikiga's eyes. If he was going to retaliate any further, he would shoot without batting an eyelash. It may be for self-defense, but a gun was still a gun. Any unarmed human, if shot between the eyes, would die. But he didn't mind. These people didn't even qualify as humans anyway.
”But the fun's just getting started, you'd be missing out if you went home.”
The voice came from behind him. At the same time, his mouth was covered, and his wrist was gripped tightly. The gun slipped through his fingers. He was only being held at the mouth and hand from behind, but his whole body was trapped. He could not move at all. A cold breath caressed his earlobe. A whisper flowed into his ear.
”Why don't you hang out with us a little longer? We'd give you such a good time, you'd melt on the spot.” It was a tender voice, and not clouded at all. It was sweet, clear, and beautiful. Fura couldn't tell whether it was a man's voice or woman's voice. Perhaps, if he obeyed this inviting voice, he would be able to melt in ecstasy. It was a thought that lasted a mere blink of an eye.
His feet were swept from under him, and he was slammed to the floor. His breath caught in his throat, and he faded out of consciousness.
Continued in PART B.
Notes
Shakespeare, William. King Lear. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1921-1951. 5.3.257-259. (back)
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