Sudden Surrender

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Men of Tokyo: Sudden Surrender ISBN # 978-1-906590-87-1 ©Copyright Sedonia Guillone 2008 Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright July 2008 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz Total-E-Bound Publishing This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution. The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork. Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

Men of Tokyo

SUDDEN SURRENDER Sedonia Guillone

Dedication To Mitch, the love of my heart and guide of my spirit. Thank you as always to Claire for bringing me in at Total-E-Bound and being so patient with me. To Lyn Taylor for the absolutely incredible cover! To my critique partner, Ruth Axtell Morren for helping me make my writing better and better. And to every single reader – your support is appreciated more than you will ever know.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Trademark: WBA

World Boxing Association

Those who practice here today will become eternal spiritual friends. One’s family is only a family and lasts one lifetime; but you who are here practicing together, you are creating links through eternity. ~ Soto Zen Master Taisen Deshimaru

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Chapter One

If I don’t get the hell away from him, he’ll kill me. The thought shuddered through Yuzo’s mind like a mantra. His justification for leaving…no, escaping, this gilded cage he’d willingly gotten locked into. Yuzo’s hands shook as he hunched over his bathroom vanity, using the wooden handle of his hairbrush to grind up the sleeping pills he’d filched from Taro’s medicine cabinet last night. How he’d managed to pull that theft off was only a testament to his terror and desperation. Yuzo took the saké cup and brush and climbed into the shower, crouching over his work to try and muffle the scrape scrape of the hairbrush handle against the porcelain. Yeah, he had this tiny bedroom and bathroom all to himself, for what good it did. Sound carried, even in a luxury flat like this one. Worse, Taro’s armed goons were always stationed right outside the door, because, as Taro liked to say with that greasy smile on his square face, “No one will steal my little prince.” Some prince. Huddled in a dry bathtub, naked except for a pair of boxer-briefs, desperately grinding sleeping pills into powder so he could drug his sadistic sugar-daddy and escape. The damn tablets were stubbornly refusing to break into anything smaller than granules which Suzuki would no doubt see floating in his saké. Sweat poured from Yuzo’s skin but he kept grinding. Whether he deserved his freedom or not at this point had stopped being an issue within his conscience. Survival had won out. That and his wish to bring Uncle Tokuma no more grief and shame than he already had. Then he heard his bedroom door open. “Yuzo-chan!” Yuzo gasped and froze. Taro! Shit! He scrambled out of the tub, stuck the cup in the vanity cabinet and stood in front of the mirror. “In here,” he called and ran the brush through his hair, forcing his breath to calm down. One fuck-up and Taro would kill him. But not before torturing him some more in the name of sexual pleasure. “What is this?” Taro Suzuki’s stocky frame filled the doorway. His mere presence sent prickles of icy heat down Yuzo’s spine. “You don’t come out to greet me?” The older man’s shirt hung open and the oni tattooed on his barrel chest and thick stomach glared out at

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Yuzo, the colourful demons’ eyes bugging, their large teeth bared with foreboding, even in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Yuzo pasted on the smile that usually appeased Taro and feigned the urgency of brushing his hair. “I wasn’t presentable yet.” Suzuki stepped forward, his eyes locked with Yuzo’s in their reflections. It was then Yuzo saw the saké bottle dangling from Taro’s hand. The older man plunked the bottle onto the vanity and insinuated the front of his body against Yuzo’s back. One arm snaked around Yuzo’s front, hand splayed across his stomach. Yuzo set the brush down and schooled his features to appear like he enjoyed the attention. Heart pounding, he tilted his head back against Suzuki’s thick chest while he strained to remember the White Tiger practices he’d studied on the sly from the pamphlet he’d managed to filch from the hotel during their last visit there. Another feat of desperation. Breathing steadily, he focused his qi, his life force, so that it would strengthen him mentally and physically. Of course, there was more, like the sexual channelling of yang force to clear the mind and revive the spirit. But you needed a partner for that bit and as Yuzo had grievously learned these past few months, Taro Suzuki was the last guy in the world anyone should expose his genitals to. The yak would rather squeeze the life out of a cock than make it feel enlivened. What little Yuzo had been able to learn of the Taoist meditative practices served him well. His mind and body remained clear and calm enough to continue his plan and not let the other man’s behaviour sway his resolve as it had the other times he’d started to escape. Suzuki seemed tender and affectionate in moments like this, but the pain would soon follow. It always did. “That’s better, Yuzo-chan.” Suzuki’s saké-infused breath whispered across the back of Yuzo’s neck. “For a moment there, I thought you were afraid of me.” The man’s fingertips brushed over the bruises on Yuzo’s throat. “You know that was only for fun.” He followed the statement with a kiss on the nape of Yuzo’s neck. Yuzo pulled in another slow, calming breath and closed his eyes. Yeah, near strangulation while Suzuki screws me. Lots of fun. “I know,” he managed to whisper. Everything Suzuki said was like some kind of twisted test of Yuzo’s loyalty. Suzuki’s fingertips on Yuzo’s jaw tilted his face up and then sharp teeth scraped his earlobe.

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Yuzo suppressed a yelp while tears threatened to fill his eyes, as much from the hurt as from frustration. Why did everything have to include pain with this bastard? For the millionth time, he regretted letting himself be seduced by a yakuza with Suzuki’s reputation. All the other workers in the host club had warned him off Taro Suzuki and of course, he hadn’t listened. What he wouldn’t give now to still be hosting in that place and coming home to that ratty futon he slept on with Mojo in the flop they rented with the other guys. Yuzo had once dreamed of getting out of there, of finding a rich sugar-daddy like Suzuki and living as he was here in this luxury apartment. Now, Mojo and the ratty futon looked like paradise. Mojo was an urchin, but he’d been crazy about Yuzo. Had done everything for him. Without physical and psychological torture. Taro bit his earlobe again and straightened, looking into the mirror. Yuzo breathed past the pain and watched the yak’s eyes study his reflection. In the next moment, Yuzo sensed the darkening shift of energy in the man’s stocky form. His blood chilled. Taro Suzuki was crazy but he wasn’t stupid. “You seem different tonight.” The statement was full of Suzuki’s usual suspicion. Kuso. An invisible part of Yuzo felt suspended over a pit of hungry vipers. He considered every word and move. Manipulation would go only so far with Taro. But before he could respond, Taro shrugged. “I keep forgetting what a lightweight you really are.” He chuckled and reached over, retrieving the bottle of saké off the vanity and unscrewing the cap. “Another day or two and you’ll be begging me to choke you again.” Relief prickled down Yuzo’s arms. If Taro thought his upset was only about the strangulation, so much the better. He shifted to the side, giving the older man space to drink from his bottle, but then found the glass opening being pressed to his own lips. The acrid scent of fermented rice assaulted his nostrils. “Drink,” Suzuki said, the command clear in his tone, “a couple of nice big sips.” Yuzo’s relief evaporated. Wordlessly he took the bottle and tilted it back, letting a generous amount of saké fill his mouth. Hoping the stuff would numb his renewed terror, he swallowed. The saké burned in his veins and caused a numbing tingle to cascade through his limbs and brain. He surrendered to the feeling, knowing that as Suzuki took the bottle away and gathered Yuzo’s arms behind his back into a lock, he was going to need it. “Chibe!” Taro called to one of his goons. “Now!”

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Yuzo’s heart lurched. “What are you going to do?” His voice came out a squeaked whisper. “I’m going to show everyone you belong to me.” Suzuki squeezed his arms tighter, forcing Yuzo’s chest out. In the mirror’s reflection, Yuzo saw Taro’s main guy block the doorway, something shiny in his hand. Shiny and sharp. Suzuki hauled Yuzo around so that he faced Chibe. The tall huge bear of a man looked dead-on into Yuzo’s eyes and flicked a finger. The object in his hand buzzed to life. A tattooing gun. “Taro-san, what…why?” “Ryu got away from me,” Suzuki said in his ear, over the buzz of the needle, “but finally I’ve found someone to replace him.” He shoved Yuzo towards Chibe who also stepped closer to him, the gun held ominously outward. “Hold still, Yuzo-chan. It’ll be over soon and then everyone will know you belong to me.” Suzuki pinned his arms painfully back with one arm while his other hand laced into Yuzo’s hair, wrenching his head back. “Do it,” he said to Chibe. Yuzo forced himself not to beg, not to show his abject horror, and then stifled a cry as the needle seared his flesh. The buzzing thundered in his ears and pain bit at his skin as the ink sank into it, marking him in whatever way Suzuki had wanted. Breathe. The voice emanated from somewhere deep within Yuzo’s consciousness, unbidden, yet offering hope. Breathe, it said again and Yuzo obeyed. The intake of air settled the pounding in his heart and made Suzuki’s grip on him seem less escapable, even though he wouldn’t have dared try to wrench free. One deep breath followed another and his resolve strengthened again after its temporary defeat. In spite of whatever permanence marked his skin, he would still escape. He would never belong to Suzuki. And he would never let himself suffer the indignity of being bought again. Finally the buzzing stopped. Chibe lifted the needle away, pulled a cloth from the pocket of his dark slacks and wiped it over the spot he’d just inked. As soon as he was done, Suzuki turned Yuzo to face the mirror and released his arms. “Well, what do you think?” Yuzo stared at his reflection while blood circulated freely in his arms now. His shoulders and elbows ached from the death grip the larger man had had on him, but he

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hardly cared. His gaze locked onto the markings just below his right collarbone in Nara ink. The blackness of it would one day turn bluish green as it mixed with his natural pigment. Amateurish, crude, yet horribly, painfully clear, as clear as the angry redness of the skin around them were two Kanji letters, 鈴木. The name ‘Suzuki’ glared out against the pale gold of his skin. Yuzo’s breath tightened while his vision blurred, making the letters on his skin appear fuzzy. Suzuki had branded him, like a Kobe beef cow branded with the symbol of its breeders. As the air choked off in his gullet, Yuzo couldn’t decide what made his gut churn more, the forced branding of ink into his skin or the fact that anyone who saw his bare chest would know he was the toy of a son to the largest, fiercest yakuza family in Tokyo. Taro yanked on his hair then turned. “You’re just in shock. You’ll grow up one of these days. You kids stay babies so much longer nowadays. At twenty-two I was already a man for years.” He waved Chibe away, telling the goon to close the bedroom door on his way out, then looked at Yuzo again in the mirror. “Bring that saké when you come out and pour me a cup.” Yuzo stood where Suzuki left him, unable to stop gaping into the mirror. A feeling of self-disgust rose. What kind of person was he that he would feel vain now? Did he really just hate the tattoo merely because it marked his skin when he’d always thought himself above such things? Mojo had a moon and stars on his back and Yuzo had always thought him silly for it. Pour me a cup. That’s when the words registered. Yuzo’s eye fell on the saké bottle still on the counter. His chance was now. Bending down, he retrieved the cup from the cabinet and poured some saké into it. The sting in his flesh receded to the background of his consciousness as every ounce of attention went into the life-threatening task at hand. His trembling hand spilled a few drops but he couldn’t have cared less. All that mattered as he looked into the cup was that the whiteness of the porcelain masked the few larger granules of the pills he’d crushed. With the bottle in one hand, cup in the other, Yuzo pulled in a deep breath and left the bathroom.

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Suzuki had removed his clothes and stretched out on Yuzo’s bed, hands clasped behind his head on the pillow. He turned, eyes studying Yuzo as they always did, always appearing to search for the least sign of betrayal. “You seem better now,” he murmured. “Mm.” Yuzo set the cup down on a tray, decanted some saké, and then brought the tray of decanter and cups over to Suzuki. Even now, his mind searched the older man’s last statement for any sign of care, any sign that he should not give the drugged wine to him. Any reason to stay. With each small movement he made, however, his newly-inked skin ached. The sensation made his decision for him. Kneeling by the low futon, Yuzo made a proper show of serving his seme. Fear prickled over his entire body as he offered up the drugged saké with both hands. Suzuki sat up and took the cup from him. “Kampai,” he toasted and tossed the drink back in one gulp. Yuzo stared at him, feeling, for the first time in months, a ray of hope. Suzuki held out the empty cup which Yuzo took and set aside. A lazy smile spread across Suzuki’s mouth. Yuzo’s gaze travelled quickly the length of Suzuki’s tattooed body. Demons and clouds and swirls of colour covered every inch of his body except his hands, feet, neck and face. Even his ass cheeks had designs on them. Considering how the small area on his own chest burned and ached now, Yuzo could only imagine what inner toughness a man had who could endure tattooing on his whole body, especially the painful traditional Irezumi done all by hand, no electric gun moving at high speed to quicken the process. No wonder Suzuki had a thing about pain. Suzuki reached out and brushed a thumb across Yuzo’s cheekbone. As usual, the seemingly tender gesture left Yuzo’s mind confused. Suzuki had done it often in the beginning, the touch that had lured Yuzo out of the host club and out of Mojo’s bed, as much as the promise of a luxurious life had tempted him. Sudden guilt assailed Yuzo for drugging the wine, for having betrayed a certain trust Suzuki had in him, and he struggled to remember the choking, pinching and abuse of his most sensitive parts, acts that he’d probably never be able to speak about out loud without needing to vomit. Not to mention the psychological torment and loneliness this life had brought, having cast him to the fringes of existence. People he’d easily spoken with whenever he wanted might as well have been on the other side of the world, they seemed so inaccessible now, even his old bosozoku gang. Many of those guys ended up initiated into a

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crime family after having used their love of motorcycles to run errands for the yakuza. Yuzo couldn’t even talk to them anymore. Like living in a mine field every second of every day. “You just don’t get it, Yuzo-chan,” Suzuki murmured. A familiar look slipped into his eyes, one which also confused Yuzo with its edge of unhappiness. “Things come easy for someone like you. You think I’m lying? Just look at me. All you did was serve me a few drinks, let me play with you a bit and here you are. You didn’t even need to give any love to get what you have.” The words chilled Yuzo to his core. Taro often came out with such statements and painfully often they seemed true. Suzuki laced a hand into Yuzo’s hair again. Yuzo braced himself to be yanked forward, but the other man merely rested his hand there. His eyelids hung low, hooding his dark eyes. “My little Yuzo.” His voice was slurring now, more deeply than when he was drunk. Yuzo caught his breath. Perhaps the two sleeping pills mixed with saké were working faster than he’d hoped, even on a man Taro’s size. “I finally have something Fuju can’t steal from me.” Fuju. Yuzo felt another prickly chill. What would Suzuki do to him if he knew that Kikuchiya Fujimara, the owner of the White Tiger, was the very person he planned to run to? “Fuju took Ryu from me,” Suzuki went on. “He stole my father’s regard and more. He’s a shit.” Suzuki’s expression tightened as did his hand in Yuzo’s hair. Saké always made Suzuki rant, and the subject was always Fuju and Ryu and how they’d destroyed his life by breaking his heart and running off together. It was an obsession that chilled Yuzo’s blood every time the other man mentioned it. No doubt there was more to the story than Suzuki told. Yuzo couldn’t imagine Fuju as guilty of ruining Suzuki’s life. The few times he’d gone with Taro to the White Tiger to use the baths and massage rooms, Fuju was a gracious and charming host, not to mention the sexiest, handsomest man Yuzo had ever seen. Broad-shouldered, flawless gold skin, chiselled features, like a smooth, beautiful Buddha, there was something about the man that made Yuzo feel…safe, even though he’d once been an important soldier in Suzuki’s crime family. Yuzo could only pray that Fuju would help him. Providing he got there alive. “Disgusting low-life,” Suzuki ranted. “Nothing but a filthy thief. Let him get his own lover.” His now-bleary eyes still held Yuzo’s gaze. “That’s why I did this.” He brushed several fingertips over the tattoo.

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“Ow.” Yuzo pulled back at the touch on the burning rawness of his skin. Suzuki didn’t seem to notice. “I did it so you’d be mine. Always.” His hands came out, grasped Yuzo’s upper arms and hauled Yuzo up against his front, strongly in spite of his drugged state. “All mine.” Suzuki yanked again and Yuzo found himself splayed on top of Suzuki’s stocky nakedness. Suzuki’s hand threaded into Yuzo’s hair again. “I’m not stupid, Yuzo-chan.” His voice was heavily slurred now, nearly a whisper. “I know why you’re with me.” Suzuki often said things like this to him as well, always giving Yuzo the feeling he was fishing for a declaration of love. Well, maybe he loved Suzuki, or once had. But how could he love someone he feared? No, he wouldn’t say the word ‘love’ to Taro. Couldn’t. It would be a lie and a shred of integrity was all he had left. Yuzo stared into Suzuki’s bloodshot eyes as another spike of guilt stabbed him. “You’ve given me a lot,” he said softly. It was true if you counted the closet full of nice clothes and shoes he now had and would be leaving behind. Suzuki was indulgent with material things if nothing else, and often tried to anticipate what Yuzo might like, including a pile of manga to read during the hours when Suzuki was out on business. “Yeah, a lot.” Suzuki’s fingers moved against Yuzo’s scalp. Before the man could yank his head down, Yuzo lowered his face and pressed his lips to Suzuki’s. “Mmm,” Suzuki murmured and parted his lips. His tongue brushed against Yuzo’s, back and forth, almost tenderly and Yuzo’s mind blurred again. Was it possible Suzuki could change? Suzuki’s mouth went slack and a snore vibrated onto Yuzo’s lips. The older man’s hand slipped from Yuzo’s hair and fell to the mattress. No, it wasn’t possible for the man to change. Taro hadn’t been kissing him with tenderness. He’d been falling asleep. Heartbeat galloping now, Yuzo pulled back and studied Suzuki’s face. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, like it always was when he slept. The man’s barrel chest pushed against Yuzo’s with each deep, slumbering breath. Prickles of excitement warred with confusion and guilt. And terror. The window of chance was open now. In a short matter of time, it would close, perhaps forever. Yuzo clutched the bedding. He could go on as he had been, enduring the pain and loneliness, his

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penitence for being so arrogant and hurtful to Mojo and to others. All he had to do was lie down next to Suzuki and wait for the man to sleep off his drugged state, none the wiser. But then, he thought of his uncle. Uncle Tokuma had practically raised him even though he’d been busy with his own career as a well-known actor in the Noh theatre. His uncle had been worried sick about him these past few years when Yuzo had run away from home. Even though before getting involved with Suzuki, Yuzo had made sure to contact his uncle regularly and let him know he was alive and unhurt, he always heard the pain in the man’s voice when they spoke. His uncle always told him how worried he was and how much he loved Yuzo. Yuzo always had a place with him, he said every time. But Yuzo had felt unable to go to him, not only because it would put the elderly man in danger but because he was afraid his parents would capture him there and send him out of Japan, even further from his uncle than he was now. Yet, was this any better? How devastated would Uncle Tokuma be if he found out his nephew had been murdered? Which is what would almost surely happen if Yuzo stayed here. In that light, his penitence seemed almost selfish. Another action in his life that was only about him and his feelings. It certainly wasn’t being done from care about his uncle who loved him. It wasn’t Uncle Tokuma’s fault he couldn’t see what a spoiled shit his nephew was. Yuzo could do no wrong in his eyes. The decision was clear now. Escape had seemed utterly impossible until his visits with Suzuki to the White Tiger. Until meeting Fuju. Surely a man who had been a yakuza would know how to handle the situation, could advise him and guide him. It seemed at least that now there was somewhere to go. He hoped. Slowly, carefully, Yuzo slipped to the side, off Suzuki’s slumbering form and waited, breathless, to see if the movement would awaken him. A sigh of relief escaped him at Suzuki’s undisturbed sleep. With the same cautious movement, Yuzo crept off the bed. He didn’t dare open the closets or drawers in order to get the clothing he needed to go outside. All that was available to him was Suzuki’s white shirt hanging over the back of a chair. Yuzo grasped it and slipped it on, then padded over to the sliding glass door which he’d made sure to leave unlocked. Thankfully, the door slid open without a sound.

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The late spring air was balmy and a light breeze caressed Yuzo’s face as he closed the sliding glass door behind him. It was the kind of night for a romantic moonlit walk, not the dangerous climb down a bunch of balconies that he was about to make. Yuzo climbed over the rail and let himself hang, like a monkey on the branch of a tree. As a kid, he’d escaped many times from his parents’ apartment like this to run with his friends at night. The skill of risky climbing hadn’t left him, he was realising, as his bare foot touched on to the rail of the balcony below Suzuki’s apartment. Carefully lowering himself until both feet rested on the rail, Yuzo inched to the side so as not to be seen by the inhabitants within, then lowered himself until he straddled the rail enough to let go. He stopped to rest with his back against the wall. Lights were on behind the closed curtains of this apartment, so he dared not wait too long before resuming his descent to the next level. Carefully he continued the climb until the sidewalk below grew much closer and he was able to drop over the edge onto the ground. There was no time to catch his breath. If Chibe or one of the others came to see if Taro needed anything, they’d just as quickly realise Yuzo was gone and hell would break loose. Yuzo rose to his feet and started running. His heart pumped and sweat covered his nearly naked body in spite of the cool air. His pace took him out of the quieter residential side street to the busier streets of Shinjuku where people were out in shops and restaurants, staring at him as he rushed past. The pavement was hard as hell under his feet and every so often something sharp dug into his soles. He ignored the pain each time. It was nothing compared to what he’d experienced these past months with Suzuki. Soon enough, he recognised the lively streets of Ni Chome, the gay area of Tokyo where he’d lived and spent so much time. The White Tiger wasn’t much further. The bars and nightclubs of the vibrant neighbourhood blurred as he passed by and he felt many gazes on him. Even on Naka-dori, the main drag where he was now, he must be a sight, barefoot, white shirt flying open, his privates covered only by a pair of skin hugging boxer briefs. He didn’t care. He cared only about reaching that place with the traditional hangings and lanterns in front and the images of white tigers etched into the glass doors. When he reached it, he veered off to the back alleyway. No doubt there would be a rear entrance where deliveries were made to the kitchen. The alley was dark, yet Yuzo could see by the single bulb burning above the doorway, the area was cleanly swept, as cared for and peaceful as the place was inside. Running up to the door, he pounded on it with both fists.

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Chapter Two

Kiku rolled over with Quan Chan in his arms so that he lay atop the other man. Chan Chan, as Kiku affectionately called his friend and sometime lover of ten years, nearly matched Kiku in physical size, so there was no mistaking the power in the possessive grip of Chan Chan’s thighs as they pressed into Kiku’s hips. Brushing a kiss over his friend’s full parted lips, Kiku braced himself for the painful images that always assailed him during lovemaking. The visions came, as they did now when Quan Chan’s hands started to knead Kiku’s back muscles. Chan Chan as a boy in Shanghai, begging for food in the streets while his mother earned their keep in a whorehouse. Dirtstreaked, hungry, often beaten up for fun by bigger, older boys and left to bleed and cry. Chan Chan had known only this life until he miraculously stumbled upon the White Tiger Temple, the original place that Kiku’s own White Tiger was loosely modelled on. Kiku turned his head from Chan Chan, but the images kept coming. His dear friend as a troubled adolescent searching for shelter by learning to stroke and lick another man’s dragon properly. Something about that always tore at Kiku’s heart. “Kiku, are you all right?” Chan Chan asked in Shanghainese, the language Kiku had grown up speaking with his Chinese mother. The whispered question made him aware of the tension seeping into his body. Kiku sighed. “Yes. Fine.” No need to make the other man feel badly about what neither of them could control. He stroked a thumb across Chan Chan’s high cheekbone, knowing that their time as lovers would probably be ending soon, the way it had with Ryu when the visions grew too intense and frequent to bear whenever they were in bed. Lowering his face to his friend’s, he kissed him again, stealing between his lips to taste the moistness there. As it always did, Chan Chan’s mouth softened in surrender. His hands resumed their caress on Kiku’s back and Kiku registered the deepening of emotion in the other man. Chan Chan had always been taken with him, but had started to fall deeply in love with him in recent months. Though Kiku wanted to return the romantic feeling, as he’d wanted to with Ryu, the visions held him off. Like spikes, they stabbed at him, making it impossible for him to surrender his emotions freely.

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Tension clenched in his back and shot down his arms and legs. Kuso! Kiku shifted his hips forward to make their dragons slide together. The sensation was pleasant but didn’t make blood surge through his organ. He was softening again. The third time this week. That had never happened to him before, no matter how bad the images were. The images were draining his vitality. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Quan Chan. The other man’s arms stayed around him. “What is it, Kiku? Please, talk to me.” Chan Chan’s insecurity hovered around them now, like a cloud. “Did I do something?” Kiku cupped his cheek. The poor man still carried within him the child who blamed himself for every misfortune that befell him even though he was absolutely guiltless. “It has nothing to do with you, my friend.” Chan Chan stilled. “It’s the visions, isn’t it?” Of course, after ten years of friendship, he’d be more tuned into Kiku than Kiku had given him credit for. And even if he weren’t, Chan Chan was incredibly sensitive, almost as intuitively psychic as he was. When Kiku didn’t answer him right away, Chan Chan turned his head away on the pillow with a soft moan. He knew how this same thing had forced Kiku to stop being lovers with Ryu who still pined away for his friend in the bedroom next door. “Does this mean…?” Kiku winced at the pain in his friend’s voice. He smoothed a hand over Chan Chan’s brow. “I don’t know.” He looked down into the other man’s sad eyes, visible in the hushed lighting of the room. “Would you still be my friend if it did?” He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Chan Chan over this. Chan Chan had brought him to the path of the White Tiger on his past trips to Shanghai for the Suzuki family’s business. Quan Chan had first taught him the promise of spiritual well-being through the proper use of his yang force. Taro Suzuki had once accused Kiku of being a ‘collector of people’, but Kiku knew the truth. To let go of a true friend like this man would be a foolish, stupid act. “Of course, Kiku. I would never—” A knock on the soji screen to his room interrupted Quan Chan. “Yes?” Kiku raised his head at the urgency in the knock. “Kiku-sensei, forgive me for disturbing you.” Naoto, his right hand around this place. The White Tiger ran as well as it did because of Naoto’s service. The young man would never disturb his private time unless there was a damn good reason. “It’s all right. Come in.” He sat up as the screen slid open, revealing Naoto’s brawny form.

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Naoto bowed. “I’m sorry. Ryu thought I should get you immediately.” Ryu also would never disturb him for something superficial. A strange energy skittered up Kiku’s arms. Beside him, he felt Chan Chan sit up, taking care to keep the covers over their groins. Not that it mattered if Naoto saw them. Naoto had once been a lover too, while Kiku taught him the practices of the White Tiger. “What is it?” “Yuzo is here.” The name took a moment to register in his consciousness. “You mean Suzuki’s uke?” What the hell would Suzuki’s bottom be doing here without Suzuki? Naoto nodded his head of long hair. “Hai. He ran away from Suzuki and came here, asking for you. There are bruises on his throat too. He’s in bad shape.” Naoto’s voice dropped to that growl he had when his protective anger came out. Kiku felt a surge of the same emotion. “I’ll bet he is.” Kiku threw back the covers and shot to his feet. The bruises on Yuzo’s throat were no doubt part of Suzuki’s sadistic perversions. Suzuki never left anyone better than he found him. “I’ll come right away.” In the past few months, Suzuki had brought the young man with him when he came to use the White Tiger. Kiku hated having Suzuki in his place and generally banned yakuza, as many public places did, but use of the facilities had been part of their agreement. As he threw on a kimono and tied the belt, a memory came to mind of the last time he’d seen Yuzo here with Suzuki. He hadn’t missed the way Yuzo looked at him with longing. Nor had he missed the hatred simmering in Yuzo’s large eyes when Suzuki’s back was turned. Naoto was waiting in the hallway for him. At the threshold, Kiku remembered Chan Chan and turned. The man had also risen from the bed and was tying the sash of his kimono, a sad expression on his face. Their gazes met. “I’m sorry, my friend,” Kiku murmured. A touch of light infused Chan Chan’s eyes. “Friend is all that matters,” he said softly.

**** Kiku followed Naoto down to the kitchen. “He ran quite a distance,” Naoto said as they walked. “All the way from Suzuki’s flat. Barefoot, practically naked. Ryu heard someone pounding on the back door, and there he was.” He pushed open the door leading to the kitchen.

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Kiku nodded his thanks and stepped in, already seeing a flash of shaggy hair. He paused at the scene. Yuzo sat in a chair by the large stainless steel centre table. The white button down shirt he wore was pushed back over one shoulder while Basho, the cook at the White Tiger, was smearing cream over one side of Yuzo’s chest. Ryu knelt in front of Yuzo, his pink-dyed head bent over the task of wiping Yuzo’s bare feet gently with a wet cloth. A teapot and cup of tea already sat on the table beside Yuzo. A flush of pride mingled with the foreboding Kiku already sensed. He’d trained his men well and they’d come a long way on the path of service and compassion from the basket cases each one had been in earlier years. Ryu saw Kiku first. He looked up, hand freezing in mid-wipe of Yuzo’s left foot. “Kiku,” he said softly. He rose and stood aside, his eyes stricken. No doubt, Yuzo’s plight brought back Ryu’s own nightmarish rape by Suzuki at the tender age of seventeen. Unlike Yuzo however, Ryu had been innocently asleep in his own bed, only to awaken with Suzuki and one of his goons hovering over him. Although Ryu had set Yuzo’s foot back down, the young man in the chair kept his gaze down, as if not noticing what was happening. “He’s really hurt,” Ryu went on, his voice tight. “That’s why we disturbed you. We wouldn’t have—” “You absolutely did the right thing.” Kiku touched Ryu’s shoulder briefly before approaching the chair. When he did, Basho moved away also, revealing the reason for his use of cream on Yuzo’s chest. Kiku clenched his fists at his sides and stared at Suzuki’s name tattooed on the young man’s chest just under his right collarbone. The job was obviously freshly done, judging by the rawness of the skin around the marks as well as the darkness of the Nara ink, not bluegreen as it would eventually turn. “Suzuki held him down while his goon—” Ryu’s voice choked off. “I understand.” Kiku’s own voice sounded tight to his ears. It was one thing to undergo the tattooing process by free choice as he and Ryu had done. Quite another to have it done as a branding, no matter how small the mark. Anger he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years, rose up to choke his gorge.

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Only then did Kiku notice the slight trembling of Yuzo’s shoulders. The young man’s face remained tilted downwards, causing the shagginess of his hair to hide his eyes as if he were afraid or ashamed to make eye contact. Kiku didn’t wonder about that. Even a man in Yuzo’s shattered state had to understand the risk he’d taken as well as the grave danger he put anyone in who gave him shelter. No matter. Kiku’s soul-driven need to protect always won out, especially when it concerned a victim of Suzuki’s depravity. He knelt down and studied Yuzo’s hunched over form. Suzuki’s pernicious yang force roiled in the air around Yuzo, like a noxious stink that permeated the young man’s skin and hair. No telling what the rotten energy had done to Yuzo’s heart and soul from prolonged intimate exposure. Ryu still had nightmares ten years after the rape. Kiku shifted to the side and looked at the dark smudges on Yuzo’s throat, a distinct pattern of Suzuki’s fingertips. The bastard! “You’re safe now, Yuzo,” he said. Yuzo’s ragged breathing made the bangs over his eyes ripple. His lips, full and pouty, were slightly parted and his neatly manicured hands clutched his knees so tightly, his knuckles were white. At first, Kiku thought the man was in such shock he wouldn’t answer, but then Yuzo lifted his gaze and looked directly at him. Large, liquid brown pools stared out from under thick heavy lashes. Kiku found himself staring back, disturbed at the sense of capture he experienced. He glanced away but felt drawn back, as if Yuzo’s silent will were stronger than any other force, and saw that the fear and horror in Yuzo’s eyes had already begun to ebb. “Thank you,” Yuzo whispered. Then, as if touched with a cattle prod, he sat up straighter, eyes wide. “I…I promise, Fuju, I won’t stay. I just needed to get away. Please believe me.” Yes, Yuzo did understand. But there was something else in Yuzo’s words, something that gave Kiku a sense that Yuzo had been planning to escape Suzuki and take refuge here. No doubt a touch would tell him more. “It’s all right.” He spoke to Yuzo as he would a frightened child. “I believe you.” Carefully, so as not to startle Yuzo, Kiku took gentle hold of Yuzo’s arms over the white shirt. Suzuki’s shirt, no doubt, judging from the way it draped so largely over Yuzo’s slim form. Yuzo’s triceps, though also lean, were hard and sinewy against Kiku’s fingertips. “We’ll talk about that later, Yuzo-san,” he said softly. “For now, you’ll stay here.”

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Yuzo’s large eyes were staring down into his unflinchingly and Kiku found himself studying every contour of the man’s face. The brush-like lashes, the shaggy way his dyed hair framed his delicately-boned face, the poutiness of his full lips as well as the barest hint of moustache on his upper lip. With his androgynous beauty and deep smooth voice, Yuzo was the image of the boy-band type that was wildly popular these days. What wasn’t androgynous was Yuzo’s slender body of lightly chiselled muscle. That was all male. Kiku caught himself staring and silently chided himself. To be objectifying the man at a moment like this— Wait. Where were the images? He always received impressions from touch within seconds, especially when a person was in the amount of distress Yuzo was in. Perhaps he’d been too distracted by Yuzo’s incredible physical beauty. Trying again, Kiku brushed his thumbs over Yuzo’s biceps, also hard and as enticing as the rest of him. Nothing. Except for the familiar hum of emotional vibes he received from everyone around him—Yuzo’s fear, mingled with relief and the continuing burn of Suzuki’s raw, angry qi. Kiku frowned. How was this possible? In his forty years of life he’d not met one human being whose soul he couldn’t see into. Could there possibly be…? Never mind that, he continued to chide himself. No doubt, once he got Yuzo into the shower, naked with him, to cleanse him of Suzuki’s negative energy, the images would come. They always did. “Will you come upstairs with me?” he asked Yuzo. It was crucial the frightened man didn’t perceive any more threat to himself. “I must balance your qi immediately.” Yuzo nodded. In spite of his trembling, a look of trust glistened through the fear in his huge eyes. With hands still on Yuzo’s upper arms, he ushered Yuzo to a standing position. Someone, Ryu probably, had placed a set of hotel slippers with the White Tiger emblem printed on the tops on the floor by Yuzo’s chair. Ryu knelt down and put the slippers by the trembling man’s feet and made sure he slipped into them. When Ryu had straightened, Kiku looked into his friend’s eyes. “Thank you, Ryuchan.” He touched Ryu’s cheek, wishing there were time to comfort him as well. Then he turned and led Yuzo out of the kitchen, away from the small crowd of concerned men, up the elevator to the top floor where his bedroom was.

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“I understand about qi,” Yuzo said after having been silent the whole way up. His voice sounded strange, faraway and light. His hand was limp in Kiku’s and he followed Kiku like a trusting child. “I read all about it on your pamphlet. I stole one while he wasn’t looking and studied it. I’ve been practicing, the breathing and everything. But I didn’t dare look at the website, even if Taro wasn’t around. If he found out, he’d have punished me. I’m sure he’d have punished me.” A sick feeling sprang into Kiku’s gut as he slid open the soji screen to his bedroom. Yuzo was rambling, the way a person in shock did. While he’d been struggling to survive around Suzuki, he’d probably managed to hold himself together. Now, away from the yak and somewhere safe, all the stuff he’d been suppressing would probably come out. “Come in here, Yuzo-chan,” he said gently, sliding the screen closed behind them. His eye fell on the bed. Someone had had the forethought to put on clean linens and straighten the covers, leaving the black comforter folded back in an inviting way. Maybe it had even been Chan Chan. Without stopping, he led Yuzo into the tiny bathroom and flicked on the soft lighting before turning on the shower. “I probably have too much yang, right?” Yuzo’s voice made him turn. The smaller man’s eyes were wide as if being held open against his will. He was still trembling, causing the spiky bangs over his forehead to move against his smooth pale skin. “I need more yin, don’t I?” Yuzo was definitely demonstrating a working knowledge of the life force concept, but now wasn’t the time for a new lesson. “Sort of,” Kiku answered softly. Truth was, Yuzo had too much of Suzuki’s yang and not enough yang from a gentle source. No doubt Yuzo’s own yang force had been drained out of him and would need to be replenished from a new source. It was up to Kiku to help him achieve this balance. Kiku turned on the shower. As the stream of water hissed in the background, he faced Yuzo once more. The young man hadn’t moved. Tentatively, Kiku reached out and began rubbing his shoulders gently over the white shirt. Kiku grimaced. Suzuki’s white shirt. Best to get that article of clothing off of Yuzo immediately. Even an inanimate object that belonged to Suzuki would be impregnated with his destructive energy. “I’m going to help you now with all of that, Yuzo-chan, with your permission, okay? I won’t do anything to you that you

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don’t want me to do. You can stop me anytime you want to.” As he spoke in a soft, murmuring tone, he continued his soft massage. The young man’s shoulder muscles felt tense. Yuzo nodded. “I give my permission,” he said, never taking his eyes off Kiku. His voice still sounded manic, but the light of trust Kiku had seen earlier still shone past the shock in his demeanour and voice. The look sent a strange tingle of energy over the surface of Kiku’s skin. He reached out and smoothed Yuzo’s hair back, resisting the sudden, overpowering urge to lean over and kiss him. “Let’s get this shirt off.” He slid his hands inside the shirt and gently slipped it off Yuzo’s shoulders. He couldn’t help a quick intake of breath at the warm, silky feel of the young man’s skin. The unbuttoned cuffs were loose enough so that with only a gentle tug, the shirt fell to the floor. Kiku glanced with distaste at the discarded garment. Probably best to burn the thing later after Yuzo had been cared for. Steam billowed from behind the glass door of the shower stall. Hot water and a rubdown were the next order of business. Kiku looked down at Yuzo’s boxer briefs and his stomach tightened. His greatest concern was to keep Yuzo from feeling violated again. Reaching out, he brushed a couple of fingertips across the waistband, his eyes on Yuzo. The young man’s look of trust remained. Kiku glanced back down, noticing the toned etchings of Yuzo’s abdominal muscles and downy trail of fuzz below his navel that filled Kiku with the sudden desire to see where it ended. “Do you wish to keep these on in the shower?” The question seemed to take a few extra seconds to process but then Yuzo shook his head. Wordlessly, he took hold of the waistband and began to push them off himself. Kiku swallowed and quickly stepped behind Yuzo. As Yuzo slipped the underwear past his narrow hips, Kiku felt a lump form in his throat, blocking his windpipe. The cotton material descended over round tight buttocks and down smooth sloping thighs, muscles flexing with each movement. Kiku found his gaze frozen on the young man’s beautiful form. Finally, the underwear fell past the rounded hardness of Yuzo’s calf muscles and over his perfect feet. Stop it. Kiku turned towards the shower, studiously averting his gaze from the young man’s front. He opened the glass door and stuck his hand under the stream of water. Good, it

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was hot, but not enough to burn. Slowly, he turned around and faced Yuzo once again, keeping his eyes on his face. That’s when Kiku remembered his own kimono. He put his hands on the belt of his robe. “I need to come in there with you,” he said. “Is that all right?” The other man nodded without hesitation, giving Kiku the distinct sense that it was something he really wanted. “Okay, Yuzo-chan.” He pulled the sash open and slipped the robe off, his back to Yuzo, and set it on the bathroom vanity. Carefully, he half-turned. Yuzo stood where Kiku had left him, his hands at his sides. His pale skin had a sheen of mist on it from the steam, making him appear to glow under the soft lighting. He looked up to meet Yuzo’s eyes again. And froze.

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Chapter Three

The smaller man’s gaze was trained on his chest, staring, eyes wide, his breathing harsh, his eyes darting back and forth. Of course, his tattoos. He’d been a yak for many years and was covered nearly head to foot with images, down to his wrists and ankles. Like Suzuki. Shit, Yuzo looked terrified, even though these tattoos consisted of less frightening images. White tigers and cherry blossoms certainly didn’t carry the potential to inspire fear like Suzuki’s demons, did they? Yuzo stood unmoving, his look glued on Kiku’s chest. “Do they frighten you?” Kiku asked him. “I hadn’t considered that. I’m sorry.” Dimly he was aware of the shower thundering on in the cubicle, unused, while steam billowed in a misty curtain around them. The longer they stayed like this, the longer Suzuki’s destructive yang force remained inside Yuzo’s spirit and body. At first, he thought Yuzo wouldn’t answer, but then the other man looked up at him as if broken from a trance. “Tigers are different,” he said. “Especially white tigers. They’re not demons, are they? White tigers are about immortality and other beautiful things.” There was that manic rambling again, as Yuzo processed what he saw, differentiating the symbolism of these images from Suzuki’s. A pang squeezed Kiku’s chest. The markings had frightened Yuzo at first, but for some reason, the younger man had made a decision in his tattered state not to be afraid. Before Kiku could answer, Yuzo went ahead of him and stepped into the shower, under the spray. He turned fully to Kiku as the hot water plastered his hair down in spikes across his forehead and streamed down his willowy form of lean muscles. Kiku nearly lost his breath. The young man stood straight, his physique as exquisite as his face. If an artist had created him, Yuzo couldn’t have been more beautiful. Kiku’s gaze travelled quickly down the length of him, taking in every detail, sleek neck, the slight vshape of his willowy torso, lean hips. Every muscle, from biceps and shoulders, abdominal and chest was perfectly etched.

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Kiku swallowed, allowing has gaze now to focus on the man’s dragon, which lay soft between his well-built thighs, but even at rest, it was of good size and girth, hanging over his firm sac of yang pearls. That dark trail of hair below Yuzo’s navel, ended in a small thatch just above his jade stalk, which, even in its pulled in, resting state, was, as enticing as the rest of him. His yang sac, too, simmered with life force in spite of Suzuki’s interference. Yuzo emanated a kittenish, abundant sensuality that sent a cascade of heat through Kiku. He understood already that part of Yuzo’s nature was his desire to submit to and receive an alpha male, and Kiku completely understood Suzuki’s desire for him. At that moment, Yuzo opened his eyes and looked directly at him. “I’m not scared of you, Fuju,” he said, “Don’t worry.” Fuju. Suzuki’s name for him made his insides clench. It was the second time Yuzo had called him that and Kiku realised that the name was the only one Yuzo had heard used. Knowing Suzuki as he did, Kiku had no doubt the man ranted constantly in front of Yuzo. Fuju did this to me and Fuju did that to me. Fuju’s a disgusting lowlife. Stole my father’s regard, held me back and then took Ryu away. On and on. He stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind him. The tiny space barely held his brawny frame and Yuzo’s lithe one, but it was what he had to work with. With one hand, he smoothed Yuzo’s wet mop of hair off his brow. Damn, the man’s skin was the palest shade of gold, smooth and buttery. His eyes, a deep dark shade of amber, were the shape of perfect almonds only larger. And the way he looked up, so trusting… “Yuzo-chan, for your sake, you should call me Kiku. Not Fuju, all right?” Just that statement seemed to make more light seep into Yuzo’s face, as if a weight had been lifted. He nodded. “Kiku-sama. Kikuchiya is your whole name, like it says on the brochure.” Droplets of water beaded down his cheeks and over his soft pouty lips, making Kiku crave to lick them off. “Kikuchiya, like the character in Seven Samurai, the farmer who fights like a brave samurai. He was so handsome, like you, Kiku-sama.” The praise sent brief warmth through him, especially from the obvious admiration in Yuzo’s tone. However, Yuzo was still speaking from shock and his continued rambling now tore at Kiku’s heart. For the moment all he could do was smooth Yuzo’s drenched hair back in soft strokes while he gazed down at the man’s face. Yuzo was small, even a bit shorter and much narrower than Ryu who had a layer of wiry muscles due to his training as a

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professional boxer. Because of Yuzo’s size, his qi would have been easily overpowered by that in Suzuki’s broad stocky form, like a person who can get drunk more easily because his smaller physique can’t hold its liquor. The poor man’s soul would have to be scoured of as much of Suzuki’s residue as possible. “Are you named for him?” Yuzo’s question made Kiku blink from his thoughts. “Named for whom?” “For Kikuchiya in the film.” Kiku became aware of Yuzo’s hand on his arm. The smaller man’s fingers pressed into his triceps. Habitually, he braced himself for the images the touch would bring. Instead, tingling warmth travelled through his arm, radiating from the point of Yuzo’s touch. “I…I don’t believe so,” he answered finally. As far as he knew, he was named for his father’s father. Staring down at Yuzo, he struggled to collect his thoughts. What the hell was happening? Yuzo continued to gaze up at him while the hot water coated both of them in a soothing way. “My uncle was in that film. Not a major part. He was an extra, a samurai walking through the village in the beginning. It was his first role ever. He started acting after he came back from the war.” Yuzo’s uncle had to be an elderly man if he’d fought in the Second World War. But maybe it wasn’t even true. Yuzo’s mind seemed to be darting from thought to thought. A definite side effect of Suzuki’s poisons. Then again, considering how magnificently handsome this youth was, he could easily have come from a family that included a film actor. Kiku slid his hands over Yuzo’s hair again and then proceeded downward, dappling his fingertips over Yuzo’s finely curved neck. The bruises there glared out at him and the yang force behind them sent angry splinters of pain into Kiku’s fingers. That told Kiku everything he needed to know about how the bruises got there. Had Yuzo been someone else, Kiku knew he would have gotten an image of Suzuki on top of Yuzo, his dragon buried deep inside the smaller man while his hands closed around Yuzo’s throat, squeezing until he got off from the choked terror on Yuzo’s face. Kiku huffed and lifted his hands away, shaking the malicious energy out of them to be washed away in the shower. Bad enough he could imagine the scene. To have gotten a sharp vision of it from Yuzo’s soul would have undone him right then and there. How Yuzo had

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managed to survive months of Suzuki and then actually have gotten away from him could only be a testament to some deep inner strength and will. He put his fingertips back over Yuzo’s throat and closed his eyes, sensing the area to see if he’d cleansed it sufficiently. Only a tiny residue remained there. Kiku brushed his fingertips over Yuzo’s smooth skin, tracing the graceful curve of his throat. Up and down, around in tiny circles, he gathered Suzuki’s harmful energy as if he were skimming scum off a clear pond, then lifted his hands away again, sending the energy down into the drain with the water. “That feels so good.” Kiku opened his eyes. Yuzo was still wide-eyed, staring at him, yet a bit of the manic expression had drained out and his voice was a touch calmer than before. “I’m glad,” he answered softly. “I don’t want you to have any more pain.” Instantly, Yuzo’s eyes misted over and his bottom lip trembled. “There was so much pain, Kiku-sama. So much pain.” The words caused a pang in Kiku’s chest. He cupped Yuzo’s cheek and brushed his thumb across the delicately formed cheekbone. “I know. I’m going to continue now.” Ignoring the pulsing in his own dragon, he settled the fingertips of both hands onto the sides of Yuzo’s throat and skimmed his touch over the man’s trapezoid muscles to his shoulders. “Maybe you’ve heard of him,” Yuzo went on. “My uncle, I mean.” Kiku didn’t want to be distracted from his task by Yuzo’s chatter, but he knew that this talking was also a way of purging poisons. Undoubtedly, being with Suzuki had been like becoming an isolated prisoner with no one else to speak with but Suzuki. “What is your uncle’s name?” He let his hands rest on the slim muscles of Yuzo’s shoulders. For whatever reason, Suzuki hadn’t deposited much of his energy into this part of Yuzo. “Tokuma Imoru. He never became a big movie star or anything, but he was popular in the Noh theatre. He always had a beautiful voice and moved with such grace. He taught me all of it, singing and dancing, thinking I’d go into the theatre too, but I didn’t. I hope he won’t hate me after what I’ve done. He doesn’t know about Suzuki. He’d be so ashamed even though he thinks I’m so wonderful. He’d never think that again.” Yuzo’s eyes now filled with tears, which began to spill onto his cheeks, mingled with the droplets of water from the shower.

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Kiku brushed his thumbs over Yuzo’s skin. It was obvious Yuzo had spent a great deal of time contemplating his sins. His remorse was nearly palpable. “Everyone makes mistakes, Yuzo-chan. I’m sure your uncle would forgive you.” “Do you really think so?” Hope flared in Yuzo’s eyes. “Absolutely.” “Thank you, Kiku-sama.” “You’re welcome.” Kiku felt himself quickly being charmed. Not only was Yuzo beautiful, but he appeared to have some depth too. The strongest urge to nuzzle the man’s creamy skin seized him. Fighting the need down, Kiku resumed his scan of Yuzo’s body. Slowly, he skimmed his touch down Yuzo’s arms. A jolt of aggressive qi nearly sent him back against the glass door behind him. Yuzo’s pain, physical and emotional, radiated through his upper arms. Suzuki had pinned back the smaller man’s arms, forcing his chest out so that his goon could get to him with the tattoo gun. Kiku pulled in one deep breath after another as he rubbed up and down Yuzo’s hard, slim triceps, pulling away every few seconds to shake off Suzuki’s energy. What came through so agonisingly strongly here was Yuzo’s utter feeling of helplessness in the yakuza’s grip. He also sensed Yuzo’s quiet determination in that moment to get away from him. “Your touch is so kind,” Yuzo said, his voice almost breathless. Kiku skimmed both palms down the man’s forearms, holding his gaze. It was easy to touch this man kindly. “Thank you.” He reached Yuzo’s wrists. The energy was not so strong here, maybe because Suzuki, for all his depravity, wasn’t really into bondage and wouldn’t have tied Yuzo’s wrists. No, Suzuki had a thing about charming a guy into submission. To a point. He’d get violent if ignored too many times, which was what Ryu had done all those years ago and had gotten raped for it. A tickle churned in Kiku’s gut. The place where Suzuki’s energy would be worst was in Yuzo’s most vulnerable parts. Gently, Kiku released Yuzo’s hands and fanned his fingers out over Yuzo’s chest. Yuzo pulled in a sudden breath and his eyelids fluttered. Kiku pulled back. “Did I hurt you?” Yuzo looked at him and shook his head, his smooth brow crinkled. “No. You didn’t. It just hurt when you put your hands there, as if…” “As if what?” Kiku’s heart scudded. This could be worse than he’d thought.

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The other man appeared to search for words momentarily. “As if…he were inside me, fighting back at you.” Kiku sighed. Good thing Yuzo understood the whole concept of qi. This process would go more smoothly if he could speak straight and honestly about it. “He is inside you, Yuzochan,” he said gently. “Every time he touched you, he left energy inside you.” Yuzo’s eyes flew open. “Will you be able to get rid of him?” He nodded. “That’s what I’m working on.” He put his hands back over Yuzo’s chest, trying not to stare at the perfect cinnamon colour of the man’s flat round nipples dripping with water. If only he could be touching Yuzo simply to make love to him. A man whose touch didn’t assault his inner eye with horrible images was probably one in ten million. And here he was. Putting his attention back onto Yuzo’s chest, he pushed his touch in closer. Angry prickles of heat entered his palms and moved through his wrists, up his forearms. Kiku’s arm muscles clenched as the knowledge invaded his mind. Suzuki had spent a great deal of time biting and pinching the small sensitive disks in ways that were not pleasurable, even to someone who liked pinching and biting. Part of Suzuki was a feral beast, attacking its prey, wanting to tear it apart in his jaws, loving the cries of pain in his ears. Another jolt of energy passed between them. Yuzo cried out softly and sagged back against the tiled shower wall, eyes closed. “It hurts,” he said in a tight voice. “I know.” Kiku shook the vicious energy out of his hands and put them back over Yuzo’s chest to absorb more. Miraculous that Suzuki had managed to leave Yuzo’s flesh unscarred. Yuzo’s torso jerked forward and he cried out again. “It’s all right, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku pressed his hands lightly onto Yuzo’s pectoral muscles, easing him back. The smaller man’s heart raced under his palm and Suzuki’s vicious yang swirled and fought. Suzuki’s energy was pissed off at Kiku’s intrusion and didn’t want to let Yuzo go. Kiku focused his mind on it and pulled, psychically drawing the vapours out and tossing them into the shower spray. Yuzo’s chest heaved rhythmically under his hands. “Just a little bit more, Yuzo-chan,” he encouraged. In the next moment, the energy ebbed away, leaving just a low hum of vibration. Kiku rinsed his hands and turned back to Yuzo. The smaller man was staring up at him. His

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breath still rose and fell heavily but the wildness from the pain had drained from his eyes, leaving a tired look. “How do you feel now?” Kiku cupped Yuzo’s trembling shoulders and squeezed them lightly. Yuzo’s skin was like slippery satin under his touch and water beaded in the hollow of his throat. His flesh blushed reddish pink from the battering of the hot water and the energy battle inside him. “Better.” He blinked several times, his dark lashes like brushes. Then a look of fearful shame clouded his face. “What have I done, Kiku-sama?” It was a question Kiku couldn’t bring himself to answer. Yuzo’s involvement with Suzuki would probably haunt him for some time to come. Instead, he reached for some blue, musky-scented shower gel from the nearby dispenser and formed a lather in his hands. “Don’t think about that right now,” he murmured. “Rest for a few minutes before we continue.” With a hand on Yuzo’s elbow, he eased the other man away from the wall and started to rub the soap lightly over him. His hands skated over Yuzo’s perfect skin and long, lean muscles. Yuzo stood quietly, obediently, his head tilted slightly back, eyes half-closed. His body moved languidly under Kiku’s hands as Kiku lathered him. “I used to tear out pages of the manga Suzuki bought me and scribble notes,” Yuzo said, although his voice was much more relaxed now. “Whenever I could I’d filch stamps and envelopes from his drawers and mail notes to my uncle just so he’d know I was alive. Uncle Tokuma has been very good to me. Better than I deserve.” Kiku slid his hands over Yuzo’s chest. The man’s nipples puckered under his touch and he let out a small breath. Instead of soaping his lower body, Kiku moved up and down Yuzo’s sides, into his armpits and around to his back. Mistake. The movement drew Yuzo closer and Kiku felt the brush of Yuzo’s slightly hard dragon against his. Pleasure zinged up Kiku’s shaft, wakening it further. Tingling warmth swirled through his balls and into his ass cheeks. Kuso. Kiku clenched his jaw against the arousal taking over. He needed to hang on longer, retain his own yang force before he gave it to Yuzo. If he let go too soon, Suzuki’s residual energy would wage war in Yuzo’s body and hurt him worse. Then he felt Yuzo’s hands on his back. Yuzo gazed up at him and stepped closer, pressing his body against Kiku’s front until their wet skin felt like they were fused together. “I’m sorry, Kiku-sama,” Yuzo said. “Forgive me.”

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Kiku smoothed back Yuzo’s drenched hair, his gaze glued to the smaller man’s sweet lips. “There’s nothing to forgive now, Yuzo-chan. It’s all right.” It really wasn’t all right. Yuzo had brought his danger here, to a place that Suzuki already had his hooks into and would dig in deeper when he found out where Yuzo had gone. That is, if Yuzo didn’t leave soon. But here, in this moment, with Yuzo wet and sorrowful and trembling in his arms, in need of healing, there was no need to remind him further of what they both already knew. Before he could talk himself out of it, Kiku leaned down and brushed a kiss over Yuzo’s lips. Mmm, soft velvet, warm and melty from the water. He pulled back only to see Yuzo’s eyelids flutter and his lips part. It couldn’t be clearer he wanted more. Kiku’s body tightened with the instinct to surround Yuzo and take him with tender abandon. Only his fear for Yuzo’s safety if he did so enabled him to resist lowering his lips to Yuzo’s again and taking a longer, deeper taste. He held Yuzo gently under the shower, watching the foamy suds rinse off his clear skin. When Yuzo was clear of soap, he held him slightly away by the shoulders. “We have to continue now, Yuzo-chan.”

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Chapter Four

“Just try to relax.” Kiku’s large hand splayed gently against Yuzo’s flat stomach. The second Kiku made contact, Yuzo felt a warm tingling through his abdominal muscles. Kiku-sama had the most wonderful touch, warm and gentle. It made him feel so safe. When Kiku had first removed his kimono, his tattoos had been frightening, reminding Yuzo of Suzuki’s horridly adorned body. Kiku too, was large and muscular, his physique a study in chiselled brawn. Kiku had an incredibly broad chest, bulges of muscle that appeared more than able fill a pair of hands. Yuzo let his gaze roam over the man’s painted torso now at a more leisurely pace, as if invisibly tracing the designs tattooed all over him. Kiku’s shaved head, covered by a mere shadow of dark stubble, only accentuated his god-like appearance. But there was something else to Kiku, that same caring, protective quality Yuzo had sensed in him that had made him feel he could trust the man. He did trust him and already felt better, freer of Suzuki than he had since the yak had first touched him in a sadistic way. Kiku-sama’s tattoos lost their power to frighten him. Kiku rubbed small circles over his stomach. Warmth emanated from his outstretched hand and the tingling grew more rapid, spreading into Yuzo’s cock, which hardened a bit more. Yuzo tilted his head back and his eyes fluttered closed under the pleasurable contact. He’d forgotten that human touch could feel this good. Perhaps the rest of this cleansing wouldn’t be as difficult as the first part. Wrong. In the next second sharp pain jolted through his stomach, like a knife stab. “Ah!” Again, he fell back against the tiled wall, which supported his weight. The pain continued, as if someone were knifing him, trying to cause his life to bleed from him. “Shit! Shit!” All he could do was swear out the pain, vaguely aware of Kiku’s hand still on his stomach, rubbing more vigorously now. Everywhere Kiku’s hand moved, the pain would stab back against the pleasant rub. “Hold on, Yuzo, you’re doing fine.” Yuzo opened his eyes. Kiku’s face was slightly blurred in his vision, but the taller man held his gaze. The dark pools of Kiku’s sloe eyes captured him and Yuzo found that if he just

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looked steadily at Kiku’s face, tracing the broad sharp contours of his cheeks, jaw, lips and nose, the pain lessened. “Very good, Yuzo-chan.” A tiny smile curved the larger man’s lips. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners made Yuzo’s heart speed up a bit, beyond the fast way it beat from what they were doing. Kiku’s hand slid lower, below Yuzo’s belly button. The touch sent more pleasant warmth through his skin. The energy seemed to spread outward from Kiku’s fingers, as if he’d brushed a fingertip down Yuzo’s cock, all the way to the tip. Yuzo pulled in a small breath and glanced down. His gaze travelled over Kiku’s wrist where his tattoos began their journey up the brawn of his arm, like a multi-coloured sleeve. Kiku hadn’t even actually touched his cock, yet the heated energy caressed it, just enough to make his groin tighten. Suddenly hungry for the stroke of those thick, strong-looking fingers on him, Yuzo pushed his pelvis slightly forward. Suzuki had always been so rough with it, as if his cock were made of hard rubber instead of sensitive flesh. But Yuzo was certain that Kiku would make it feel good. “Be ready, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s voice had lowered, just audible over the incessant thundering of the shower. “I can feel that Suzuki was especially possessive of your—” “No!” Another horrific jolt of pain through Yuzo’s groin drowned out the rest of his words. Yuzo grasped Kiku’s upper arms again, digging his fingers into the taller man’s iron muscles. His cock felt as if it were being squeezed in Suzuki’s fist. “He’s got me! He’s got me!” This was how Suzuki had always grabbed his cock, a relentless, heartless wringing of the sensitive organ until tears ran down Yuzo’s cheeks and he was begging him to stop. Even now, the yak’s crazy grin showed in his mind as he whimpered. However, in the midst of the pain, Yuzo grew aware of that tingling warmth again, the gentle rub of Kiku’s palm over his aching shaft. The caress seemed to draw the agony out, like poison draining from a wound. Every few seconds, Kiku lifted his hand away and shook it into the shower spray before putting it back. And each time he did, the pain lessened until there was only the brush of Kiku’s fingers down his cock. “That’s better,” Kiku crooned. His dark liquid gaze still rested on Yuzo’s face, his voice a comforting caress on his soul just as his hand rubbed away the misery in Yuzo’s cock. The

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pain spiralled completely away and Yuzo’s groin tightened again with the stirrings of arousal. “You’re doing well, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s deep voice vibrated pleasantly through him, like gentle vapours forming a protective curtain around him. A sudden, deep exhaustion overcame him and he sagged against the wall. “Not much longer now,” Kiku said, “and we can dry off and go to bed. By then, you should be ready for me to give you my yang.” Bed. With Kiku-sama. Getting his yang. That sounded like the best possible thing in the entire universe. Something he’d fantasised about in the months since he’d met Kiku, a desire that had nurtured and sustained him through the cold painful hell of imprisonment as Suzuki’s pet. Kiku’s hand slid lower down his abdomen, thick fingers so gloriously close to his cock. “Open your legs a bit,” he said gently. Yuzo gladly obeyed and the larger man cupped his balls, as softly as if he were handling a delicate teacup. The pads of his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin like the dappling of raindrops. “Ooohhh.” The syllable escaped Yuzo at the pleasure of his yang sac resting in the larger man’s warm palm. The tell-tale tingling of energy swirled in the contact of Kiku’s skin with his and Yuzo tilted his head back, lips parted, instinctively wanting a kiss. Instead, a blood-curdling jolt of pain gripped his scrotum. Yuzo gasped and his eyes flew open at the force which sent him onto the balls of his feet. He gripped Kiku’s broad shoulders, anchoring himself against the wrenching pain, the way he used to feel when Suzuki gripped and yanked that sensitive part of him with no mercy. Kiku’s other arm cradled his back, making him feel as if he could never fall. “I’ve got you, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s voice brought his attention back to the man’s wide handsome face. Again, that dark gaze held his, anchoring him in the midst of the agonising battle for his body. It really did feel as if Taro Suzuki were inside him, warring with Kiku for dominance of his body and soul. “You’re strong, Yuzo-chan,” Kiku said. “I feel your strength. Suzuki didn’t take it from you. He only covered it. Your will is far stronger than his. Fight!” Yuzo pulled in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. In that moment, he wanted Kiku to feel he was strong and brave, worthy of the trouble he was taking to help him, even if he really wasn’t. He wanted this more than he wanted Suzuki’s qi out of his body.

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Like shards of broken glass collected and melted back into one strong piece, Yuzo focused his attention, the way he did when he concentrated on meditation. One deep breath followed the next and his inner vision sharpened, growing clearer with each second. Sensations were more vivid, both inside his body and out, like the cradling strength of Kiku’s arm around him, the sensual weight of his own yang sac in Kiku’s hand, the painful darts of Suzuki’s angry energy roiling in his balls, and then…something else. Emotions…anger, envy, jealousy, vengefulness, hate and…hidden affection. Yuzo breathed again, every muscle in his body tense from the onslaught. Hot water cascaded over his skin and steamy heat curled around him both from the shower and from Kiku’s broad, muscular body so close to his. The clarity of the emotions sharpened further and Yuzo became aware that the feelings weren’t his own. They were someone else’s. Suzuki’s. “That’s right, Yuzo-chan,” he heard Kiku say. “You’re seeing what his qi is made of.” Kiku’s fingertips swept across the underside of Yuzo’s sac, moved away and then returned in the process of rinsing of Suzuki’s energy off his own skin. As it had before, the angry force lessened each time. Almost effortlessly now, Yuzo’s attention rested on Suzuki’s emotions, taken inside him from every physical contact he’d ever had with the yak. As the pain abated, his understanding grew clearer. Suzuki was enraged. He felt betrayed by everyone important to him, including Kiku. Kiku was important to him. If he couldn’t be allied with Kiku, he kept contact with him by tormenting him, keeping him on edge, forcing him to live almost every moment of every day in fear for the lives of the men in his care. A moment passed. More knowledge rose. Yuzo gasped. It was worse than he’d thought. Suzuki had kept Kiku’s finger part. How Yuzo knew this was a mystery. Suzuki had never mentioned it or shown it to him, but in this moment, with Suzuki’s qi open to him like a book, Yuzo knew. Images came to his mind. Kiku a younger man, holding a cloth around his hand after performing yubizume, the finger cutting that was the price of his freedom from the crime family. Blood soaked through the cloth. He handed the severed finger part, also wrapped in cloth, to Suzuki, who locked it away in a safe. Yuzo knew that safe. It was behind Suzuki’s desk in his office. Sudden nausea roiled in Yuzo’s gut. There was still more. Suzuki also wanted Ryu, believed that Ryu was the pinnacle of beauty and manhood, but for one reason only—Ryu loved Kiku and having Ryu was a way of having what Kiku had.

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The nausea intensified. He started coughing, heaving. “I’ve got you, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s hand slipped from between his thighs and both hands held Yuzo’s arms, anchoring him from slipping on the tiles as he coughed. His insides felt as if they’d been caught in a windstorm. The force was blinding and sent him to his knees, palms on the wet tiles. Kiku’s hands never left his arms and Yuzo sensed the larger man crouched before him. “Let him go, Yuzo. Let him go, as best you can. You owe him nothing.” Yuzo’s insides clenched, as if Suzuki’s life force clung to his internal organs. Pain clawed through his body. “You can do this,” Kiku said and squeezed Yuzo’s arms in emphasis. The gentle pressure pulled him back, helped him focus his mind once again. This time, memories rose, not the images of before, but his own memories. Suzuki squeezing his dragon, wanting to give him pain, wanting him to beg. Suzuki leaving him locked in his room for hours, telling him he was useless and spoiled, good for nothing but a fuck. The loneliness, guilt, horror of his existence with Suzuki. Did anyone deserve this? Even a spoiled, arrogant person like himself? “You can do this, Yuzo-chan. Please.” Kiku’s voice held a pleading tone now. “I don’t care what you feel you deserve. Everyone’s made mistakes. Let him go. Now.” Yuzo raised his head. His teeth were chattering in spite of the steamy cubicle of the shower. His body shook with cold tremors and Suzuki’s twisted psyche roiled inside him, clawing to hang on. Kiku’s thumbs brushed over his biceps. The touch made more images rise. Different ones this time. Yuzo saw himself as an adolescent. He remembered that day. Playing in the garden with Hito, the boy next door. Hito was twelve years old, like him, yet bigger and they started wrestling. Yuzo hadn’t realised wrestling could feel so good. Hito was laughing as he wrangled Yuzo onto his back underneath him, their hands laced together, legs entwined. It had felt so good. Then Yuzo kissed him. Hito had pulled back at first, but didn’t reject him. So Yuzo kissed him again and they started rolling around some more, only this time they were kissing, not wrestling. That’s when the yelling had started. He heard his father yelling, the sound growing louder until angry hands yanked him out from underneath a stunned Hito. Yuzo whimpered. The memory remained in his mind, flowing like a film through his consciousness. He could smell the grass from the garden, feel his father’s hands on him,

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dragging him then pushing him into his room. He’d sobbed, curled up in the corner, feeling like the most horrid piece of dirt. He’d wished he’d never been born. Yuzo’s heart squeezed. From here, in this shower, with his emotions flowing raw and hot, he felt for that child. Had he really done something so awful? He watched the memory in his mind, watched the adolescent he’d been cry when all he’d been doing was playing with his friend in the garden outside. “Very good, Yuzo-chan. You understand.” Kiku followed the praise with a caress on his wet hair. Yuzo looked up at him. More understanding flooded in. The rest of his life had been a punishment for that day with Hito. For what they’d been doing. For what Yuzo was. A disappointment to his parents. A failure who would never honour them the way they wanted to be honoured. What better way had he found to atone for his sins than to put himself in Suzuki’s power? Yuzo clenched his fists. He’d never have subjected Mojo, or Saki, or anyone he knew, to Suzuki, to such hatred and torment. So why had it been okay for him? Kiku’s gaze rested on his face the whole time, his look intent, as if he were watching Yuzo’s experience at the same time and understanding what was going on inside him. “Let him go, Yuzo-chan.” he said softly, the force and pleading both gone from his voice now. A final tremor shook Yuzo’s body. Tears pooled in his eyes. One more image of himself as a boy, curled in foetal position, crying, feeling completely lost and alone in the world, flashed in his mind. He’d never been allowed to see Hito after that day. They’d gone to the same school and avoided each other in terror. He’d missed his friend so much and had been forced to watch Hito go around with other guys and ignore him as if he didn’t even exist. The world had felt so dark and cruel, not even Uncle Tokuma’s kindness could make it seem light again. Not when your own parents hated you and were ashamed of you. Then the tears spilled out. A cry, guttural and wild, unfurled from deep inside him, from a place he hadn’t ever felt before and echoed against the tiled walls. The force of it propelled him forward. But someone caught him. Someone solid and warm. Arms closed around him and held him close, stroking his hair, rocking him gently. “It’s all right, Yuzo-chan. It’s all right.” Kiku’s breath caressed Yuzo’s ear as he spoke.

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Yuzo couldn’t answer. He gripped the powerful, bunched muscles in Kiku’s back as he sobbed, releasing what had to be all the wails of agony he’d locked inside, away from Suzuki and his goons, away from his parents. Images continued to stream through his mind, beginning with Suzuki and moving backward, back through Mojo and the host club, through his rides with the bike gang, sneaking from his room at night during high school to climb the balcony, the constant cold silence of his parents’ home, their faces like stone, never smiling, back to the crying boy curled up on his bed after being dragged away from Hito and locked in his room. To this day he could still see Hito’s young face as his friend stared after him, mouth hanging open, eyes frightened. His wailing dissolved into choked sobs which he thought would never end. Eventually, however, even the sobs quieted and he found himself clinging onto Kiku, face buried in the curve of the larger man’s neck. Not for a moment had Kiku tried to urge him to stop. Leaning back, Yuzo looked up at him through blurred eyes. Kiku was gazing back at him, concerned but also smiling. His hands still cradled Yuzo’s back but he lifted one hand away to push Yuzo’s sopping hair out of his eyes. “You’re very brave,” he said gently. “Most people won’t allow themselves to go to that place of sorrow inside them.” Yuzo bowed his head. He couldn’t consider himself brave, seeing what it took to get him to that place. Several months in Suzuki’s hold would bring anyone to their knees wailing. But Kiku had just spent a great deal of time and energy helping him and he didn’t want to appear ungrateful. “Thank you, Kiku-sama.” Kiku’s hands went to his elbows and ushered him to his feet, urging him to lean back against the wall. “I just need to rinse off and then we can get out of here,” he said. Kiku pushed on the dispenser, lathered up the gel in his hands and started wiping it over his own chest. Yuzo had meant to answer him but couldn’t speak again, this time from awe. He found himself gaping at the other man, watching the soap lather into suds over the man’s inked brawn and then stream down as the water rinsed him. Magnificently hot were the two words that came through to Yuzo’s addled mind in that moment. Kiku continued soaping himself and half-turned as he washed off his lower body. Yuzo gaped now. The other man’s buttocks were powerfully hard and rounded, as were his thighs and calves.

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Kiku tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting the shower rinse over his face. Water streamed down his chest and tight, carved abdomen and Yuzo followed the flow of water down his shaved pubic area to the man’s thick dragon, one of the only parts of him not covered in ink. He couldn’t help staring at the reddish cap of the head and the hard veined length of the shaft over the plump sac of his balls. Yuzo swallowed hard. It was rude to stare the way he was, but he felt powerless in the grip of the other man’s potent male beauty. Thankfully, Kiku didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he didn’t act like he was being practically drooled over. Yuzo turned his head slightly in an effort to mask his staring. Kiku was probably quite used to such attention anyway. He was surrounded by hot guys all the time, men who probably saw the same qualities he saw in Kiku. Kiku turned and shut off the water, giving Yuzo a nice eyeful of his broad, colourful back. Another white tiger leaped across the thick muscles, its white and black striped body ascending from a forest of cherry blossoms. Opening the door to the shower, Kiku reached for two fluffy towels. He opened one and wrapped Yuzo in it. Feeling suddenly shy, Yuzo thanked him and followed Kiku out onto the bathmat. Why modesty would overcome him in this moment, after running through one of Tokyo’s most crowded neighbourhoods in his underwear, he didn’t know. Maybe it was because Kikusama had just seen inside him, to the raw ugly places he’d kept hidden even from himself all these years. Silently, he dried himself off, still watching Kiku. The larger man’s painted muscles bunched and flexed as he too, rubbed a towel over his wet skin. His back was to Yuzo but when he turned, a look of concern shadowed his handsome face. “I’m sorry, Yuzo-chan, about the tattoos. They must bring back bad memories.” The sorrow in his voice made Yuzo’s heart squeeze. “Don’t be sorry, ever, Kiku-sama. You saved my life.” The words popped out before he could even think, and they were absolutely true. Truthfully, it startled him that the man would apologise to him after what he’d done to help him. If anything, the apology should have been the other way around. He had no business bringing his trouble here. Kiku stepped in front of him, head bowed. The worry hadn’t left his face but at least he smiled again. “Your hair is still wet,” he said softly. He lifted his towel and gently began rubbing Yuzo’s hair.

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The friction felt so damn good, Yuzo closed his eyes and drank in the delicious caress. Had he really forgotten what this kind of touching felt like? Then again, even Mojo had never quite touched him like this. He couldn’t have. He’d been a rough kid surviving the best he could. This was…different. As the massage on his scalp continued, Yuzo’s hold on his towel loosened and he let it drop to the floor. Kiku stopped rubbing his head and set the towel aside, giving Yuzo a full view of his large dragon. The member, fully thick and hard, jutted from his smooth, muscular body. No doubt, Kiku had lots of delicious yang stored in there, which he intended to give. The mere thought made Yuzo’s entire body tingle. For the first time in what felt like forever, Yuzo looked forward to getting into bed with a man rather than dreading the pain to come. “Come now, Yuzo-chan,” Kiku said softly and picked up his hand. “We have more healing to do.”

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Chapter Five

Yuzo’s hand trembled in Kiku’s as he followed Kiku back into the bedroom. “I just need a moment to prepare,” Kiku said. He gave Yuzo’s hand a gentle squeeze and released it. Yuzo watched the larger man pull the covers back further. This time, following Kiku’s movements, Yuzo began to notice the room itself. The décor was simple, traditional Japanese, with sliding closet doors and tatami mats over the dark polished wood floors. Aside from a low sitting area and a futon on a platform, the only furnishings were a small bedside table, some potted bamboo plants in the corners and a couple of elegant wall hangings depicting nude men entwined in erotic poses. A trace of incense hung in the air and a peaceful energy hummed in the room. He hadn’t noticed any of this when Kiku had first brought him in. Miraculous how a short time ago he’d been a basket case and now he only felt the heated anticipation of being in bed naked with this incredible man. Kiku turned a small knob above the bedside table and soft tones of traditional Japanese music filled the room. Another knob adjusted the lighting in the room to a soft, romantic glow. He then knelt by the bedside table, slid back a door and retrieved what appeared to be a bottle of oil. Gently he set it on the surface and then proceeded to light a stick of incense. In moments, the scent of burning sandalwood laced the air. Together with the soft music and lighting, the scene was one that fit just about every fantasy Yuzo had ever entertained about Kiku. Finally, Kiku rose and came back over to him. Reaching out, he closed his hands warmly over Yuzo’s upper arms. The lighting in the room was soft and cast shadows over Kiku’s face and musculature, giving him a mysterious air. “Are you ready, Yuzo-chan?” Yuzo’s stomach fluttered a moment but then he nodded. “Yes.” Kiku gestured to the bed and Yuzo climbed in, enveloped at once in the soft bedding. He turned on his back, in time to watch Kiku slide in beside him and pull the covers over them. The whole thing was like an incredible dream and for one strange moment, Yuzo wondered if he’d actually died back at Suzuki’s and only thought he was still alive.

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But then Kiku moved in closer and the heat of his strong body invaded Yuzo’s skin. One large hand came out and smoothed back Yuzo’s slightly damp hair. No, he was definitely alive. If he weren’t, he couldn’t breathe in the clean musky scent of Kiku’s skin or feel the erotic heat of his maleness as Kiku pushed his muscular physique closer. Kiku’s face hovered so close above Yuzo’s that his warm breath caressed Yuzo’s lips. “Yuzo-chan, I swear on my honour I’m not simply trying to take advantage of you. It would be very easy to do that to you now, but I really do need to give you fresh yang.” The earnest, concerned tone in his voice sent a pleasant ripple of heat through Yuzo’s body, a sensation that travelled right down to the tip of his dragon and made it harden even more. “I know,” he said quickly. “I can’t imagine you taking advantage of anyone.” In his ravings, Suzuki had called Kiku an “opportunistic lowlife” about a million times. Instinctively, Yuzo had never believed him. And honestly, if Kiku had just wanted to get off at his expense, he could easily have done it back in the shower. No, Kiku was honourable. That was absolutely clear. The larger man sighed and tilted his gaze downward a moment, giving Yuzo the sense he didn’t agree with Yuzo’s statement but had chosen not to discuss it. “Thank you,” he murmured. Then he passed a large gentle hand over Yuzo’s brow. “Yuzo-chan, there is still significant residue of Suzuki’s energy inside you.” He cradled Yuzo’s cheek in his warm palm and brushed his thumb across his cheekbone. The caring touch softened the tightening in Yuzo’s gut from Kiku’s words. The thought of another second of physical agony was unbearable. “How long will his energy stay in my body?” Kiku hesitated, his dark eyes seeming to study Yuzo deep inside. “I was able to draw out a certain amount because you were willing to let go of it. But…” That last word was said slowly and Yuzo tensed, bracing himself for what Kiku might say next. His hand trailed down to Yuzo’s shoulder, which he cupped warmly. “The problem is that now, you are the one clinging to the residue.” Yuzo pulled back slightly in shock, but thankfully not enough to dislodge Kiku’s hand. He already couldn’t get enough of Kiku’s touch and they’d barely done anything yet. “Me?” He stared into Kiku’s face while he tried to comprehend. “I ran from him. I couldn’t get away fast enough. He tormented me.” Strange prickles of energy ran down his arms. “Why would I cling to him?”

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Kiku’s fingertips caressed his shoulder. The gesture conveyed a mixture of comfort and sensual coaxing. Yuzo’s body responded, making him feel as if he were melting into the bed underneath him. With each caress, his shock softened more. “He said things to you,” Kiku answered softly, “Things that weren’t true, but you believed him.” Yuzo opened his mouth to answer then stopped, struck by the accuracy of Kiku’s statement. Well, mostly accurate. At least some of the things Suzuki had said to him were true, like what he’d said earlier that evening about Yuzo’s not giving any love in return for his privileges. Kiku frowned. “You don’t believe me,” he said, the tone a calm statement of fact. “You believe him.” Yuzo jutted his chin out. “He used to call me a useless turd, but really I was a slob and he used to trip over things I’d left out on the floor. I learned to be neater because he said stuff like that.” “I don’t really mean that. I’m talking about the way he lied to you. He said something to you…” Kiku paused, his face a sudden mask of concentration. “Something about how you didn’t love him, yet he gave you everything.” Yuzo gasped. “You could see that?” The larger man’s shoulders sagged slightly. “No, I couldn’t. I just sense it, as if I can hear his voice echoing in an invisible place, telling you bad things about your nature that aren’t true.” With a sigh, Yuzo sank deeper into the pillow, glad for Kiku’s continued stroke on his shoulder and arm. The heat from the other man’s body shimmered into his skin and Kiku’s hard thigh brushed his under the covers. “You’re right. He did say that, just tonight. Before I…” He looked down, suddenly frozen by a wave of guilt. “Before you what, Yuzo-chan?” Kiku’s voice gently urged him on, as if it were important somehow for him to finish the sentence. Yuzo avoided Kiku’s dark, earnest gaze. Even all the pain, the struggle for dominance that had just happened in the shower, the poisonous nature of his affair with the yak…none of it seemed to matter in the face of that betrayal, the moment that Suzuki sipped the wine, never imagining Yuzo had drugged it. “I…” He looked at Kiku now, his memory assaulted by that one torturous second. But then, he also remembered the way Suzuki slandered Kiku

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all the time. This enabled him to continue. “I ground up sleeping pills and put them in his saké. As soon as he fell asleep, I climbed off the balcony, down to the street and then ran here.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. Kiku’s eyes widened a moment. “Kuso.” The cuss was said in a whisper, with a tone of awe. He was silent a few moments as his hand slid down Yuzo’s forearm and came to rest over Yuzo’s fingers. Suddenly, he leaned over and brushed his lips across Yuzo’s. The kiss was brief, like the sweep of a cherry blossom petal over Yuzo’s lips, but Yuzo’s eyelids fluttered and he released a sigh. In the next second, Kiku pulled back and looked down at him again. “Like I said earlier, you’re very brave.” Yuzo glanced away. The ghost of that kiss lingered on his mouth, making him want more and more of it. “I just considered myself absolutely desperate.” Kiku didn’t answer. His next words were spoken in a darker tone. “Well, Yuzo-chan, Taro Suzuki is a murderer, rapist and thief, not to mention a sadistic tormentor. Are you going to believe the things he said to you to control you, to keep you feeling bad all the time so he could do whatever he wanted to you?” His thumb brushed back and forth on Yuzo’s wrist with the same seductive comfort as the earlier caress on his shoulder. “That decision is what will enable you to let go of him.” He leaned in closer and slid his fingertips across one side of Yuzo’s collarbone. Yuzo practically moaned with the pleasure. His body was alive in a way it hadn’t been in months. His cock tingled madly, his balls were tight, about to burst. Even the opening of his ass throbbed. When would Kiku finally give him his yang? “I can help you balance your qi,” Kiku went on, “but that will only help for a little while. The imbalance will remain inside you as long as you believe the lies he told you.” Before he realised what he was doing, Yuzo reached up and grasped Kiku’s upper arm. For a moment, the thick hardness of those inked muscles whipped away his thoughts, but in the next second they returned. After all, Kiku was discussing a deep, important thing with him, something that would probably affect the rest of his life. “You really feel he was lying?” The second he asked, he was sorry. He shouldn’t be doubting what Kiku-sama was saying to him, but the wild need in his body was making him feel almost drunk now, losing control of his tongue as much as he was losing control of the desire Kiku was skilfully drawing out of him with his caresses.

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Kiku leaned over him, so that their chests were practically touching. One deep breath and Kiku’s pectoral muscles brushed Yuzo’s nipples. Tingles spread like wildfire through Yuzo’s torso. Instinctively he arched upward, craving more contact. “Many people have lied to you, Yuzo-chan, people who were important to you. Suzuki was only one of them. They all wanted to control you and make you believe bad things about yourself.” Kiku’s words only made the tingles in Yuzo’s body intensify. Briefly he thought again of Hito, of the boy’s stunned face while he watched Yuzo being dragged out from under him and across the yard to the house. Could that have been one of the lies? That he was bad because he’d kissed Hito? “There’s one person who didn’t lie,” Kiku said. “Someone who wants for you the same peace and happiness I want for you.” Yuzo’s heart squeezed. “My uncle.” The words came out in a tight whisper. Kiku nodded. “Yes. He’s never stopped believing in you.” Kiku brushed his fingertips below Yuzo’s collarbone, teasing strokes that moved in large circles. One round, then another, closer and closer to his nipple. Leaning in, Kiku nuzzled his cheek as his hand worked sensual magic on Yuzo’s chest. “How does that feel, Yuzo-chan?” He exhaled, arching into Kiku’s hand. “So good,” he whispered. Sparks of heat seemed to follow the path of Kiku’s fingertips over his skin, as if each cell were hungrily drinking in the affection. “Good.” A smile curved the other man’s lips. His eyes, though dark and velvety in a sensuous way, also reflected tenderness. “I want you to have pleasure. I know it’s been a nightmare.” So saying, he slid his hand around Yuzo’s side, splayed it on his back and leaned down, touching his lips to Yuzo’s. This time, Kiku stayed there, his mouth resting lightly against Yuzo’s. The tip of his tongue passed over the seam of Yuzo’s lips, a light tickle that sent more delicious tingles of heat through Yuzo’s body. His hand still rested on Kiku’s muscular arm, his fingertips chafing over the hard triceps which flexed with the tiny movements of Kiku’s body. He parted his lips, wanting Kiku to taste him deep inside. Instead, Kiku opened his mouth only slightly, letting his warm breath pulse slowly and gently into Yuzo’s. Yuzo moaned. He couldn’t help it. This simple act caused ripples of tingling pleasure down his neck, through his chest and stomach and arms, right to the tips of his fingers. Each

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long, slow breath made tension pour from his body, leaving him soft, pliant, floating in the softness of the bed, aching for Kiku’s large, hard body to cover him. It might have been an hour or forever that Kiku rested their lips together like this, but Yuzo could have stayed there until his last breath. All too soon, Kiku lifted his mouth away and brushed a delicate path of kisses along his jaw, then down the side of his neck to his chest. “Ohhh.” Yuzo arched his back again, cradled in Kiku’s large hands. Each tiny nuzzle and lick made him feel as if Kiku were anointing him, like a priest doing something holy at an altar. The sensation was so new, so different, Yuzo realised it had never happened to him before. Mojo had loved him, but they’d been two kids groping and rolling and grunting on their mattress together. Suzuki had rubbed him nicely a few times, but the rest of it had been harsh biting, scratching, beating and worse… This? Ohhhh. So different. Heaven in the flesh. Kiku’s tongue licked over one nipple, a delicate, brush-like caress that wetted the small disk and made it tighten. Kiku licked it again then blew lightly over the moisture. The lightest tingle of icy heat covered the spot. When Kiku descended again, warm moist heat extinguished the coldness of his breath. Yuzo moaned softly, his eyes closed as the tingling spread up the back of his neck, into his mind itself. Kiku tightened his lips and tugged, a gentle pulsing rhythm that made Yuzo gasp softly each time. Instinctively, his hands closed around Kiku’s head, fingertips feeling the smoothness of the man’s scalp, then sliding down his neck where the tendons flexed with the movements of his jaw. Yuzo’s head sank deeper into the pillows. He felt himself smiling as his body acquiesced joyfully. Kiku’s lips lifted away a tiny bit and he rained more soft kisses and licks across Yuzo’s chest to the other side and gave his other nipple the same sweet licking, blowing, suckling treatment. Yuzo’s eyelids fluttered again. He felt the smile on his lips deepen. His hands slid to Kiku’s back, lightly palming the broad muscles, which also flexed with Kiku’s movements. Kiku’s chest brushed his erection. More delicious sparks of heat danced up the shaft and down into his balls. In a reflex, he parted his legs, his body aching to feel Kiku’s powerful physique between them. Kiku’s name whispered in the air around them over and over before Yuzo realised it was his own voice, quietly calling the man’s name.

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Again, that tiny, vibrant space inside him that understood things spoke to his softening mind. Love. He was in love. And had been since that first time he’d met Kiku-sama. He’d just not been able to let it flow inside him. If Suzuki had have seen it he’d have crushed it, the one precious flower he’d had to keep him alive during his captivity. Kiku lifted his mouth from Yuzo’s nipple and surged over him. The larger man’s breath was hot over his skin and those hard muscles chafed deliciously against his aching chest. “It’s all right, Yuzo-chan,” he said in a ragged voice, “I understand.” Yuzo’s eyes flew open. Tears stung suddenly. He blinked the sensation away, as Kiku’s chiselled face came into focus. Had Kiku sensed what he was feeling? Kiku brushed his fingertips over Yuzo’s cheek. The gesture was wildly tender. He followed the words with a hot kiss, a searing brush of their lips together before surging downward, his lips coming to land on Yuzo’s stomach. For one brief second, Yuzo tensed. Lips on his stomach in the past had meant a rough bite that nearly broke his skin. But in the next second, the heated sensuous lick down the centre furrow of his stomach muscles followed by the push of Kiku’s tongue into his navel dispelled the clench of his body. Anticipation of pain melted into a shudder of delight that made him arch his pelvis upward. A warm gentle hand palmed his cock and rubbed, quick, petal soft strokes that made him clutch at Kiku’s shoulders and cry out Kiku’s name several more times. “That’s right, Yuzo-chan, let your qi flow. It’s been stagnant like a rain puddle.” Kiku’s voice moved through him, a hypnotic mantra that blended with the movement of his stroking hand and the constant cascade of pleasurable energy invading his entire groin. Kiku punctuated the words with the brush of his thumb over the tiny opening in the head of Yuzo’s dragon. Yuzo sucked in a breath, his stare mesmerised by Kiku’s face, flushed dark, his eyes velvety in the soft light. The scent of incense curled in his nostrils. The dulcet tones of the bamboo flute and stringed shamisen floated into his ears and blended with his breathing, now an even rhythm with Kiku’s strokes on his dragon. “Every time I kiss you or touch you, Yuzo-chan, I’m sharing my yang force with you.” Kiku’s voice was smooth in spite of the breathiness in it. Like melting honey coating Yuzo’s soul. Kiku emphasised his words by pressing his lips into Yuzo’s abdomen, just below his navel. For what seemed a long time, he rested there, letting his warm breath pulse over the

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area. Heat spiralled through Yuzo, a warm flush that spread through his belly, into his chest, which rose with ecstatic breaths. More heat tingled down the length of his erection and deep into his balls. Yuzo was floating, his lips curved in a deep smile now. Finally, Kiku brushed his lips across the spot and lifted his face enough to continue downward. Yuzo’s breath caught. A moment he’d desired with all his heart and soul felt like it was only seconds away. Still cupping Yuzo’s dragon, which he held straight up, his thumb sliding over the lobes of the head in tiny strokes, Kiku slid lower down, tracing his path with small kisses, across Yuzo’s hip, down his inner thigh. Through his erotic haze, Yuzo watched Kiku’s shaved head, the shadow of his hair just visible on the golden skin. The next soft lick of Kiku’s tongue slid across the underside of his balls. “Ahhh.” Yuzo’s mouth dropped open. Another breath escaped him as warm tingles cascaded through his whole lower body, emanating from the point where Kiku’s tongue made contact with his skin. This was another part of him that had been tormented and pained these last few months, the ache of memories eased away by each skilled, tender stroke of Kiku’s tongue and lips across the most sensitive part of him. Kiku’s other hand came to rest on Yuzo’s stomach, a warm pressure that seemed to block the cascade of tingling waves from continuing up his body and send them back down to his cock. He cried out softly as each wave pulsed down the hard length, held gently in Kiku’s palm. Kiku swirled his tongue in circles, tracing the outline of each side of his yang sac. His licking fell into a rhythm with the constant strokes of his palm and each surge of pleasure made Yuzo arch his hips. He stared up at the ceiling now, his body completely surrendered to pleasure. The white plaster seemed to dim, the patterns in the material appeared to fade and dance in his vision. He felt surrounded by an invisible force that held his body, as if it were suspended in a soft coating where he felt nothing except the blissful waves passing through his heart, connected by some invisible chord to Kiku’s licking and stroking. The room dimmed more and he was enveloped in a deep, velvety darkness. His entire lower body tingled with the rhythm of Kiku’s hand and mouth, but in his vision, he could see only twinkling lights, as if the top of the building had vanished, leaving him staring at the night sky.

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Kiku loves me, he thought, still feeling the smile stretching his lips. He loves me. Dimly, Yuzo felt a pleasant explosion in his lower body, followed by a warm splash of heat, but the sensations all blended into the ecstatic mist in which he floated. He could only feel his smile, and the floating and the loving hand and voice that had guided him here. To a place of heaven. Where he felt happy for the first time in his whole life. Really, gloriously happy. Nothing could hurt him here. Not even Suzuki…

**** Suzuki opened his eyes. Light from the window blinded him, like spikes into his brain. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he rubbed them with thumb and forefinger. What a fucking headache! Sharp pain covered his scalp like an oppressive cap and when he moved his head an inch, he felt as if someone had nailed him with a mallet. Kuso. Couldn’t remember the last time saké hung him over like this. His brain felt fuzzy too, as if wrapped in gauze. He and Yuzo must have had quite a party the night before. Or had they? A shady image penetrated the fog of his memory—Yuzo staring into the mirror at his new tattoo, eyes wide, pouty bottom lip trembling. Such a fuss over some ink. The guy was a spoiled baby, really. But a beautiful one. And Yuzo was his to keep. More memories teased the edges of his mind. Yuzo serving him saké from his kneeling position. Then Yuzo sprawled on top of him, their lips pressed together. After that, nothing. If they’d had wild sex, it was a complete blank. “Yuzo-chan,” he whispered, still pressing fingertips into his closed eyelids. The least bit of light caused pain to radiate through his skull. No answer. Yuzo must have drunk as much of the stuff as he had and was still asleep. “Yuzo, I need aspirin. Get up.” He reached out to prod the guy awake. His hand landed on the unoccupied mattress beside him. Nande? He pawed again at empty air. Maybe Yuzo had fallen off the bed? With a groan, he forced himself to sit up and blinked, steadying himself against the throbbing in his temples before peeking over the opposite side of the bed.

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No Yuzo. “Yuzo-chan!” No answer. Suzuki looked towards the bathroom. The door was ajar. He listened. Couldn’t hear water running or the toilet flushing. Maybe the kid was brushing his hair again. He certainly was vain enough. Annoyance crept into his hung-over state as he lifted himself to his feet. Yuzo had a comfortable life here. The least he could do was make himself useful and get some aspirin. Suzuki trudged to the bathroom door, one hand pressed to his forehead. “Yuzo, damnit. I need your he—” The word “help” died on his lips when he saw the empty bathroom. More awake now, he stepped in and peered into the tub. Empty and dry. The sink, too, was dry, unused. What the hell was going on here? Suzuki shot out of the bathroom. He started to throw open the bedroom door and realised he was still naked. “Fuck,” he muttered and snatched his pants from the floor. Tripping and stumbling into them, he yanked up the zipper and bounded into the hall. In mid-step, he calmed a bit. Yuzo must be in the kitchen, getting them breakfast. He often did that. Spoiled or not, Yuzo seemed to have an understanding of service that was quite charming. And he was an amazing cook. Made the best miso soup in the world. If he hadn’t wanted Yuzo to himself every moment of every day, he would have gotten the kid a job as a chef somewhere. The panic passed. Suzuki released a sigh and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. He pushed open the door and froze. Chibe and Miyagi sat at the table whose surface was littered with empty saké bottles, playing cards and ashtrays full of crushed butts. Both men’s heads were tilted back, their eyes closed. Two baka sitting there, as if they were getting paid to fuck off. His heartbeat rising again, Suzuki perused the small kitchen. No food smells wafted out, no steam rose from pans or the teakettle. The kitchen was as cold and dry as Yuzo’s bathroom. He stepped forward and banged his fist on the table. Both men jerked awake. Seeing their boss, they immediately shoved their chairs back and bowed.

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A gun also sat on the surface of the table. Suzuki scooped it up and pointed it at them, finger on the trigger. With his thumb, he cocked the safety, his blood so hot he was ready to kill. “What the hell have you done with him?” he growled. “Tell the fucking truth. I’ll blow both your heads off if you so much as touched him.” Both men’s hands went up as if they were being arrested. “Touched who, Taro-sama?” Chibe said. Usually he called his employer “boss” in a casual way. Not now. His small dark eyes looked genuinely puzzled. Suzuki brandished the gun. Panic bubbled up like a physical force, filling his body right to his neck, bringing hysteria with it. “Who the hell do you think I mean, asshole? Yuzo! He’s not here. You’re supposed to be guarding him.” “Maybe he went for a walk or something,” Miyagi suggested. Suzuki stepped forward, aiming the gun at the shorter man’s shaved head. “Now, why would you think he’d done that? When you are forbidden to let him go anywhere without one of you?” Miyagi’s eyes widened. “I…I don’t know. The kid’s a bit wilful.” The words made his teeth clench. With a growl, he rushed Miyagi and pushed the barrel of the gun into his cheek. “I know what he is. That’s why I pay you handsomely to make sure my will is done. Not his.” Miyagi’s eyeballs shifted down, towards the weapon denting his cheek. “I’ll find him, boss…sensei. I promise.” His voice came out shivery. Suzuki was the only person who ever frightened him. “Make sure you do.” He continued to stare at Miyagi, gun still thrust into the man’s cheek, so hard, he could feel the man’s teeth pushing back against the barrel. Suzuki yanked the gun away and Miyagi stumbled back, a meaty paw to his cheek. “Find him, both of you,” he growled. “Or don’t bother coming back.” He flourished the gun for emphasis. Both men bowed and grabbed up their jackets, throwing them on as they scurried out. Suzuki stood in the quiet empty kitchen. Usually at this time of day there were good smells drifting through the whole house from this room. He’d come in and see Yuzo moving about here and there, his lips pursed in concentration, maybe a dusting of flour across one cheek from making ramen noodles from scratch. Always adorable. A cold shiver travelled down Suzuki’s spine. He knew the truth now. Felt it in his bones. Yuzo was gone.

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Suzuki’s hand began to tremble. He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. It couldn’t be. Not his Yuzo. It couldn’t be. Yuzo had a powerful, wealthy guy who adored him and did everything for him so he didn’t have to, a closet full of beautiful clothes and a life with no hard work. Why would he leave when he had it all? Whirling around, Suzuki strode out of the kitchen and rushed back down the hall. Something wasn’t right. A feeling nagged him as he went back into Yuzo’s room. Back in the bathroom, he flicked on the light and stood in the doorway, remembering the night before. In his mind, he pictured Yuzo standing in front of the mirror, brushing his hair. Suzuki looked at the spot, picturing Yuzo there, replaying the details, right down to the speed of the brush through the younger man’s shaggy hair. Something had seemed strange then, and it felt strange now. There had been a sheen of sweat on Yuzo’s forehead, as well as a weirdness…a squirreliness…in his manner. The brush lay on the marble countertop. Without knowing why, Suzuki stepped into the room and picked up the brush, turning it over, examining it. The bristles, then the handle. He froze…and stared. The end of the brush was chalky-looking, white, as if smeared with powder. Something about that made a strange tightness in his gut. Could be nothing. Talcum powder. Yuzo was very into his personal care products. He always smelled great and looked perfectly groomed. And yet, the vision nagged Suzuki. He wasn’t a man to ignore his gut instincts. Where Yuzo was concerned, he often forced himself to ignore nagging instincts. Perhaps that had been a bad mistake. Lifting the brush closer to his face, he sniffed it. No apparent scent to the residue. The tightness in his gut intensified. Crazy as it felt to do, he licked off the white powder and let it roll on his tongue. Bitter. Like medicine. Not chalky, like powder. What the hell was medicine doing on the end of Yuzo’s hairbrush? Suzuki banged the brush down onto the counter and stalked back into the bedroom. He started throwing open drawers and tossing all the contents out onto the bedroom floor. Next, the closet, until Yuzo’s neat little bedroom looked like a laundry room that had exploded. Nothing. There was nothing. His eye fell on the tray Yuzo had set on the floor by the bed. Kuso. The saké.

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Returning to the bed, he knelt down and picked up the cup he’d drunk from. The memory was clear now. He’d watched Yuzo carry one cup in from the bathroom along with the bottle. The pieces began to fall into place and his heart sped up. A burning sensation spread over the tops of his arms and down his back. Suddenly, everything made sense. Yuzo’s behaviour in the bathroom, even before the tattoo thing. The saké hitting so hard, Suzuki sleeping like the dead all these hours and waking up with this raging headache. Yuzo was missing, yet everything he owned was still in this room, right down to his drawer full of underwear and socks. White powder on the hairbrush. No, not powder. Medicine. Sleeping pills. Where the fuck had Yuzo gotten his hands on sleeping pills? Suzuki clenched his fists and kicked over the saké bottle. He knew exactly where. Right from the medicine chest in the master bathroom. Which meant that Yuzo…his little prince…had been planning this. That bastard. That little, fucking bastard. Panting now to vent his outrage, Suzuki’s eye fell on the spot where his own clothing had been. He was wearing his pants now, but the shirt was missing, gone from the back of the chair he’d slung it on. When rummaging through the piles of clothing and bedding he’d made on the floor didn’t reveal the shirt, Suzuki threw open the closet and looked in, but only Yuzo’s clothes hung there, not one item missing. Shimatta! The little prick had run out wearing a pair of boxer briefs and one of his best shirts! Suzuki released a frustrated growl. When he found Yuzo and got his hands on him…around his neck…he wouldn’t stop choking him this time. The next time he choked that filthy rat, it wouldn’t be for fun.

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Chapter Six

Kiku jerked awake with a gasp. He lay, breathing heavily for several moments, while a ghostly feeling shuddered through him and finally died down. The quality of the sensation was all too familiar, one he experienced whenever some tendril of his consciousness became attuned to Taro Suzuki. Now he felt whispers of the yak’s emotions, as if they’d disturbed the very airwaves themselves, sending a wake of turbulence directly to him. The vision came to him with sudden clarity. Suzuki had awoken from his drugged sleep to find Yuzo missing. The yak was furious and hurt, unable to understand why Yuzo would leave him. The mysterious connection Kiku had with most human beings was especially strong with Taro. Since the beginning of his association with the psychopathic bastard more than twenty years ago, Kiku had always sensed Suzuki’s goings on. He heaved a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the feeling of Suzuki’s presence, which had been especially forceful this time. It was only a matter of time before Suzuki called, asking if he’d seen Yuzo. Kiku felt as certain of it as he did of the missing joint of his pinkie finger. A breathy sigh pulled his attention back to the present. He glanced at the other side of the bed and couldn’t help a stirring in his heart. Yuzo, still in a deep slumber had turned over and was facing him. Yuzo’s long lashes rested against his pale cheeks and one hand curled on the pillow in front of him. He was as beautiful in sleep as he was awake. Kiku turned onto his side and watched him. In spite of the fact that merely looking at Yuzo was pleasurable, he did need to keep an eye on him as well. The young man’s world had been rocked by the exorcism of Suzuki’s qi followed by his launch to the Place of One Hundred Returnings brought on by Kiku’s lovemaking. Kiku needed to make sure Yuzo made the transition back to his body without harm. Shifting as carefully as he could, Kiku found his own limbs stiff and heavy, a residue of the exorcism in the shower. He still felt drained from battling Suzuki’s qi in Yuzo’s body. When they’d gotten into bed together he’d still been on adrenaline and then forgotten everything else in the luscious experience of making love to Yuzo.

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Just remembering sent a wave of heat through his body now, aching muscles and all. The scent of Yuzo’s skin, the velvety taste of his lips and dragon. The tiny sounds he made, the smile he’d worn. How open and trusting he’d been. His very openness had enabled him to reach the first level of transcendence, the Place of One Hundred Returnings, something that rarely happened the first time. Kiku had been with Quan Chan many times before experiencing that place himself. Kiku had recognised the shift in Yuzo’s consciousness by the sudden way his willowy body sank into the bedding, the release of a shallow yet even sigh, followed by the rapid movements of his eyes under the closed lids. He’d remained like that for several hours, with Kiku keeping vigil to make sure he didn’t come plummeting back into his body in a traumatic way. Thankfully, Yuzo had made a soft transition from the Chamber of Returnings into deep sleep, after which Kiku had carefully cleaned Yuzo’s dragon cloud off his torso, turned off the music still piping softly into the room, and then settled next to him, pulling the covers over both of them. Kiku resisted the urge to reach out and sift his fingers through the sleeping man’s hair. Yuzo released another contented sigh and Kiku longed to trap the very breath the small man exhaled and bring it inside himself so he could keep it forever. Selfish of him really when so much of his enjoyment with Yuzo had been from the blankness, the glorious void Kiku experienced when he touched him. Not one kiss, not one caress had produced an image. When he tasted Yuzo’s lips, when he’d laved the other man’s yang pearls and nipples with his tongue, when he’d caressed Yuzo’s hair and skin, there’d been nothing—nothing but the man’s musky clean scent and flavour on his tongue. Nothing but sweet pleasure and Yuzo’s open delight in being touched and licked and stroked. Kiku closed his eyes against the wave of pleasure that shimmered through him from the mere memory. When he opened them again, a large pair of sleepy eyes was staring back at him. Yuzo blinked once, then again, as if uncertain whether he was dreaming or not. “Kikusama,” he said in a whisper. “Shhh.” Kiku reached out and gently passed a hand over the young man’s hair. “It’s me. Don’t move. You need to conserve your qi.” He stroked back Yuzo’s hair again, enjoying the sleek softness of the highlighted hair against the pads of his fingertips. A flash of time passed in which he expected to see images, now that the excess yang had been tapped off

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from Yuzo’s life force. When no image came, the customary tension of bracing himself released. Like last night, there was nothing but the smooth texture of Yuzo’s hair, the soft rise and fall of his breath and the lingering trace of Yuzo’s musky scent on the sheets and on his skin. Beautiful. Yuzo lay still, seemingly content to let Kiku touch him. He took a deep breath, drawing Kiku’s gaze to his chest, to the tattoo of Suzuki’s name glaring against his otherwise pale, perfect skin. The vicious markings sobered him. “First thing,” he murmured, reaching for the bottle of oil he’d placed on the bedside table the night before. Yuzo had surrendered to ecstasy long before Kiku had even needed to use the oil. Now, he squeezed some out into one palm and set the bottle on the other bedside table, closer to Yuzo. “I’m going to put this on your chest. The more we tend to it, the more quickly it’ll heal.” “Okay,” Yuzo said again. A tinge of darkness shadowed his irises as if he’d forgotten the existence of the tattoo completely only to be rudely reminded of it. Kiku landed his oiled fingertips delicately on the damaged skin. Yuzo flinched the tiniest bit. But it was clear he was trying not to make anything of it so Kiku didn’t respond as he rubbed the oil gingerly over the whole spot. “I also need to check over you, like I did in the shower last night, to make sure your qi is cleansed. Is that all right?” Yuzo’s gaze shifted from pained to almost dreamy in a second. “Of course.” His immediate willingness sent another pang through Kiku’s chest. Then another terrible thought struck him. Yuzo was so physically small, the size of a woman, really, or the size Ryu had been ten years ago when Suzuki raped him. Yuzo’s willowy body was no match for Suzuki’s stocky brawn. The energy Kiku had purged from Yuzo the night before gave him a strong sense of the suffering Yuzo had experienced at Suzuki’s hands. Only suffering that intense could have made Yuzo desperate enough to drug Suzuki and run away, through the streets of Shinjuku, wearing only his underwear and a shirt. That line of thought led to another one, a raw spot in his own psyche in which he always questioned the legitimacy of this strange path he practiced. What if Yuzo was only fooling himself now, out of his desperation? What if his willingness to trust Kiku’s methods was only because the pain had been so bad? Yuzo could end up falling into the hands of someone else who’d misuse him because of his incredible beauty. “Thank you for trusting

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me, Yuzo-chan. You barely know me and yet you’ve opened yourself to me.” The words spilled out suddenly, in a tumbling way uncharacteristic for him. “I have good reason to trust you, Kiku-sama,” Yuzo said softly, sounding like a man much older and wiser. He couldn’t be more than in his early twenties and yet, something about him was…ancient. Kiku found himself in a rare moment of speechlessness, unable to look away as he searched for the invisible source of that age-old wisdom. He allowed Yuzo to continue speaking, in spite of his warning moments ago not to use up too much energy. “From the first time I came here with Taro, this place felt so…peaceful. The men working here looked happy and healthy.” Yuzo’s pale cheeks reddened the tiniest bit and he looked down a moment, his long lashes hiding his eyes for a fraction of a second. “And you were so charming. You seemed so kind. Of course I couldn’t stop myself from comparing you and this place every second to Taro and what it felt like to be with him, in his house.” Reaching out, Kiku touched his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Yuzo’s large eyes misted over and Kiku could see all the things that warred within him, the kind of honourable person he wanted to be battling with the spoiled angry child who’d escaped an ugly situation he’d gotten himself embroiled in. “And then,” Yuzo went on, his voice slightly hushed, “I got a hold of that brochure and tried practicing the meditation you’d written about. It really helped me.” He glanced away again, the bloom of colour in his cheeks deepening. “No matter what Taro said about you, I could never believe him, especially the more I got to know him. No one who teaches people meditation that helps them could be what Suzuki said you are.” Kiku’s heart squeezed and he cupped Yuzo’s cheek, grateful for the way Yuzo’s explanation had helped dispel his doubts. Apparently Yuzo had considered his situation even more deeply than Kiku had originally given him credit for. “I understand.” He let his touch slip over Yuzo’s cheek, down the side of his finely curved neck, not stopping until he held the smaller man’s shoulder. A warm shudder travelled through his own body at the contact. Yuzo’s skin was so warm, so smooth… Pulling his attention from the tightness swelling his own dragon, he eased Yuzo onto his back and then slid the covers down to Yuzo’s waist. For a few glorious seconds, Kiku allowed himself to peruse the slim willowy torso he’d just revealed. The shadowy daylight filtering into the room cast the light etchings of Yuzo’s muscles into relief, accentuating the

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sleek definition of his chest and abdominals, the slight v shape of his upper body and the tight slimness of his waist. Yuzo was gazing up at him again, the dreamy look once again returned to his eyes. He definitely seemed to relish the appreciation he was receiving. “I’m going to begin now, Yuzo-chan,” Kiku said gently. He leaned slightly away from Yuzo to give himself space and put his hand close to Yuzo’s bruised throat, hovering just above the spot, close enough to feel the heat of Yuzo’s body. After several seconds, simmering energy radiated from the area around the bruises. Kiku tensed, expecting more of Suzuki’s angry qi to assault him. But none came, and after several seconds more, Kiku realised the tension was Yuzo’s own, emotions locked inside of him that he didn’t yet have access to in spite of his catharsis the night before. That was fine. This process couldn’t be rushed. Yuzo would get to the deeper emotions in time. That is, if he didn’t fall back into bad company. Satisfied that this part of Yuzo was sufficiently cleansed, Kiku moved his hand lower down, this time, letting his palm rest lightly on Yuzo’s chest, opposite the side of the tattoo. Yuzo released a sigh and when Kiku looked up, Yuzo’s lids had lowered over his large eyes. “Are you all right, Yuzo-chan?” The other man nodded, his full lips slightly parted. “Yes,” he said, his voice hushed. “Your touch…is so wonderful.” The breathy appreciation made Kiku’s body warm. How he wanted just to make love to this incredible man again. However, there was more work to do first and he put his attention back on his task. Immediately Kiku felt a certain darkness in Yuzo’s qi. Traces of Suzuki lingered, but not primarily due to the yak’s direct contact with Yuzo. A cloudy, eerie haze swirled inside Yuzo. The quality of the fogginess was familiar, something Kiku had sensed in other people he’d touched in the past. Then the knowledge hit him. Kuso. Kiku slid his hand gently over to Yuzo’s shoulder and leaned in a bit closer. “Yuzochan, I must ask you an important question.” Yuzo frowned. “You can ask me anything.” Kiku took a deep breath. He didn’t want to know the answer, yet needed to know, for Yuzo’s sake. “Have you been taking drugs?”

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Yuzo’s pretty face clouded and fear crept into his eyes, as if Kiku would punish him. “Yes,” he whispered. “Suzuki used to give me X sometimes. And then he had to stop because it was making me crazy. One time he gave me cocaine and I almost lost it completely. I’m hyper enough and the coke made me bounce off the walls. We left the club that night and I dashed away from him.” Yuzo’s eyes widened with emotion. “‘I’m so strong,’ I remember thinking. ‘I can fly away from him!’ I ran into the street and almost got hit by a bus.” Yuzo glanced away, his features tight. “Obviously, it didn’t work. Suzuki and his goons chased and caught me before a cop could. I wasn’t hard to catch considering I was trapped in the middle of traffic, horns honking, people yelling. After that, Suzuki didn’t give me any more drugs, not even an aspirin.” He looked down, his shame like a cloud around them. “I’d never taken anything before I was with him. Even with Mojo. We were clean. He insisted on staying clean. But then, with Suzuki, it was the only thing that helped with the pain.” Kiku released a long sigh. “It’s all right, little one.” The last thing he would do was chide Yuzo for taking something to make being with Suzuki bearable. Although he’d realised already that it wasn’t the drugs that had helped Yuzo. It was his spirit and his strong will, an untapped reserve deep within his being that had enabled him to survive and to escape. It was that same strength that had drawn him to the White Tiger path and had enabled him to progress under his circumstances. Another man might have folded completely or committed suicide. Yuzo hadn’t. Just the opposite, in fact. In some strange way, he’d prospered. Yuzo had the makings of a true White Tiger, the powerful kind like Chan Chan had become. He wanted to feel elated over his discovery of Yuzo’s potential, but couldn’t. Any joy was completely overshadowed by the situation, by the reality that Yuzo couldn’t stay here. They both knew he’d have to leave as soon as possible. “If it’s forgiveness you need, Yuzochan,” he said instead, “you have it.” His statement was met by the splash of relief across Yuzo’s pretty face. “Thank you, Kiku-sama.” Kiku squeezed his shoulder briefly. More bad qi was beginning to emanate from the depths of Yuzo’s psyche. Someone other than Suzuki had also left a disgusting residue inside of him. “However, it’s better if you can tell me as much as possible. You have a lot going on inside of you and I sense that Suzuki wasn’t the only one to hurt you.”

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The other man’s eyes widened and he shot bolt upright, dislodging Kiku’s hand. “This is bad, isn’t it?” His brow crinkled again and he ran a trembling hand through the thickness of his highlighted hair. “Oh shit. I tried so hard to do the right thing and it still messed me up.” He turned a pleading look to Kiku. “What have I done?” He put his arms around himself, trembling as if he were freezing cold. Kiku rubbed a soothing hand over his back. “I don’t know yet,” he said, working to keep his own worry from his voice. “Just talk to me and we’ll work out what we can.” He eased Yuzo back against the pillows. So much for conserving his qi. Yuzo seemed to have the metabolism and energy of a hummingbird. He smoothed back Yuzo’s hair to comfort him. The poor man’s breath was rising and falling shakily and he looked about to cry. Before he could find a reason not to, Kiku leaned over and pressed a kiss to Yuzo’s lips. The delicious texture of silk and velvet captured him, as Yuzo’s gaze had last night in that first moment of meeting. Kiku closed his eyes. He meant to pull away and continue his survey of the other man’s qi, but couldn’t. A soft breath escaped Yuzo and pulsed like a whisper into his own. The longer Kiku rested there, his lips against Yuzo’s, the calmer Yuzo grew. Kiku breathed softly, not moving his lips or tongue, just simply breathing, sharing his life force with Yuzo through the delicate passing of air between them. Yuzo’s sweet scent filled his nostrils as the slow steady pulse of his breathing filled Kiku’s ears. In the next breath, Kiku sensed Yuzo’s hands float up and come to rest lightly on his back. The slimmer man was sinking into the pillows and sighing, pulling Kiku closer to him. Or was Kiku sinking down of his own accord until his chest fused against Yuzo’s? Perhaps both things were happening at the same time. He couldn’t tell as his mind softened, darkened in a gentle way, like it did in deep meditation. One hand still caressed Yuzo’s brow, drinking in the smooth perfection of the man’s skin and hair. One of Yuzo’s hands slid up and down his back, from hip, up to shoulder and back down to his hip, then again, and again, each time brushing lower until his fingertips smoothed over Kiku’s ass cheek. Kiku pulled in a breath. Yuzo’s touch was like the dappling of glorious sparks over the skin. He groaned, unable to keep from sliding his completely hard dragon against Yuzo’s. No! Kiku tensed. He had to do this carefully. Yuzo’s life force still wasn’t out of the dark, not by a long shot.

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Forcing himself to pull away from Yuzo’s sweet lips, Kiku looked down at him. Mistake. Yuzo’s flushed skin and heavy-lidded gaze peering back up at him, lips swollen from their long kiss, nearly undid him. Then he became aware of Yuzo’s hand still resting on his ass and drew in a calming breath. Just a little longer, he promised himself silently. Just a little longer until he understood more. And then he could give Yuzo his yang, directly inside of him, as he’d wanted to the night before. Kiku forced himself to roll aside. He’d never make it if Yuzo’s erection kept brushing against his with every breath they took. “This other person you mentioned earlier, Mojo, is he the one who hurt you?” Yuzo shook his head, his expression turning mournful. “No. Mojo never did anything to hurt me,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with more regret. “Mojo tried to help me, keep me out of trouble. He was…in love with me.” Yuzo turned his wide-eyed gaze onto Kiku. Warm energy skittered through Kiku’s chest, a response he realised happened every time Yuzo looked at him the way he was now, sweet and innocent, his true essence coming through. “I hurt him.” Yuzo’s troubled look deepened and lines formed on his brow. “He was good to me and I left him for Suzuki.” Yuzo paused and then his hand shot out, landing on Kiku’s forearm. “Mojo doesn’t know about Suzuki. I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want him to know anything that could hurt him worse.” “I understand.” Kiku reached up and smoothed back Yuzo’s hair, caressing his brow as he would to comfort a crying child. In truth, he felt for Mojo. What little he’d experienced of Yuzo so far had made him understand that losing Yuzo would be a heavy loss, indeed. Unfortunately, Suzuki would also feel that way. “I let Mojo believe I was leaving only because I needed to get away from someone else. Someone Mojo also knows.” Yuzo’s fingers tightened on the muscle of Kiku’s forearm, sending tendrils of warmth snaking up his arm, into his torso and down, right into his dragon. “It was true enough even though I’d been wanting to leave Mojo for a while.” Yuzo looked down briefly. “That must be the other person you feel inside me. He’s an undercover cop who’s trying to get any yakuza he can. He must have been in the host club where I was working and saw me with Suzuki. That was before…I went to live with Taro.” A second time, shame flooded Yuzo’s face and his shoulders hunched. “It’s so goddamn embarrassing.”

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He started to let his hand slip off Kiku’s arm, but Kiku covered it and pressed it down, both pained and encouraged by Yuzo’s remorse. “What should I say about my behaviour, Yuzo-chan? I was a yak. This very building was my gambling parlour and these rooms, I let people rent them to do in them as they pleased.” He leaned back and splayed his free hand over his own chest. “You think these markings are simply a symbol of this Taoist path? Think again. It was a glorious coincidence that I was drawn to the imagery of the white tiger and had already had several of them inked on when I stumbled across this religion.” Yuzo’s eyes widened and his gaze dropped to where Kiku’s hand rested. He leaned away from the pillow and reached out, letting his fingertips drop onto Kiku’s chest, just below his collarbone. Kiku released a soft breath. Did Yuzo know that his light touch was better than the brush of cherry blossom petals? “I think they’re beautiful,” Yuzo said. Then he shook his head. “I don’t understand it, but I’ve always had this feeling that you were never really a yak.” His cheeks reddened slightly. “You just don’t seem like one, not in your heart.” Funny, that’s what Ryu had often said to him over the years. He brushed a thumb across Yuzo’s cheek. “I guess you would know.” “Yes.” Yuzo slid his fingertips over Kiku’s pectoral muscle. Tingles pervaded his skin wherever Yuzo touched him. Even though he didn’t look down, he could feel Yuzo tracing the outlines of one of the large white striped beasts that leaped, frozen in ink, across his brawn. Despite the impulse to share more about himself with Yuzo, the young man’s fingertips skating over his flesh made speech increasingly difficult. Yuzo’s ring finger brushed dangerously close to his nipple, one of Kiku’s most sensitive parts. Anyone who knew him well enough knew that just a caress there would make him wild with hunger. Perhaps there’d be time to tell Yuzo about his past, about the emergence of his psychic gift when he was a child. Now was for unearthing Yuzo’s secrets in order to help Yuzo, not to tell his own. The tragic ability that had ripped apart his life was not a topic for this sensual moment. Yuzo slid his hand across Kiku’s chest, still tracing the tattoos with careful fingertips, as if he’d never seen anything so wondrous. Kiku steeled himself against Yuzo’s amazing touch. “So you told Mojo you were leaving to get away from the undercover cop.”

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Yuzo nodded, his gaze on Kiku’s chest. “I didn’t realise at first what the cop was. He just seemed to be another john wanting to be fussed over at the club.” Yuzo’s face darkened and he looked up suddenly. “But when I was alone with him, he turned out to be as crazy as Taro. Maybe even more so.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged. The motion caused his palm to rest flat on Kiku’s pectoral, his thumb directly on Kiku’s nipple. Kiku pulled in a breath and directed his attention away from the zing of pure heat that jolted through his chest. “He tried to get me to wear a wire when I hosted Suzuki so he could nail him. I refused, of course. There wasn’t much he could do about it. And then, by a weird coincidence, Suzuki started saying he wanted to be with me, like in a relationship. I went, as you know.” Yuzo exhaled after that last statement and turned his attention back to his exploration. This time, he slid closer to Kiku, causing the blanket to slip over his hip, revealing his fully stretched dragon. He leaned in close. “I’m sorry to have brought all this to you.” Each word caused warmth to pulse over Kiku’s skin. His nipple, already tight now, tingled madly. “It’s all right, Yuzo-chan.” He wanted to say more, that Suzuki already had him by the balls because of their mutual past; that a sizeable chunk of the hotel’s revenues already lined Suzuki’s pocket as per their agreement for Kiku’s freedom. On and on. But none of it would come. Nor should it have. He had to get the undercover cop’s sick qi out of Yuzo now. Suddenly Yuzo leaned back, his eyes heavy-lidded again, his breath husky. His next words and action shouldn’t have startled Kiku, but they did. “I know exactly where the cop left his energy, Kiku-sama.” Before Kiku could answer, Yuzo leaned forward, turning at the waist so that his ass stuck out. He closed a hand around Kiku’s wrist and placed Kiku’s hand, palm down on his ass cheek. “It’s all right here.”

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Chapter Seven

Yuzo pressed Kiku’s hand more firmly to his ass cheek. Those large thick fingers covered most of his muscle and warmth seemed to penetrate deeply through layers of skin and muscle tissue, warming Yuzo deep, deep inside. The pleasure of that touch made him start to go back to that…place, that sweet special place where he’d floated in surrender. He wanted so much to go back there, wanted Kiku’s love and heat all around him and this was the only way he knew how to get that. Kiku was so beautiful, so incredible. The man’s muscular body rippled and flexed with power. Each deep breath he took made the white tiger inked on his broad chest to move as if it were alive. And Kiku smelled soooo delicious, like incense and musk. “Do you feel him there?” Yuzo shifted the weight of his hand, which made Kiku’s lightly callused palm graze his ass. Heat travelled right to the tip of his dragon which strained to a painful point now. How he wanted to push it against Kiku’s abdomen, but earlier when their two cocks had touched, Kiku had shifted away, so Yuzo was afraid. And yet now, his conscience whispered to him that he was being seductive. Was he even right about the whole qi thing? Was the part of him that the smarmy cop had focused most of his cruel attention on the place where Kiku would need to touch him? He prayed so. He didn’t want Kiku to think he was a manipulative fake. But his whole body pulsed with heat. He needed Kiku-sama’s yang so much. Yuzo knew he should stop right now and confess his ploy, but when Kiku’s fingers squeezed his ass and he watched the larger man’s eyes darken and his handsome face flush, any sense of timidity or propriety Yuzo had held onto absolutely abandoned him. “What did he do to you, Yuzo-chan?” Kiku’s voice was husky yet laced with a hint of anger, not at him, Yuzo sensed, but at the cop. A fantasy image rose in Yuzo’s mind. Kiku stepping in between him and the dirty, strapwielding cop, large fists curled, just before the bastard could whack the thick leather across Yuzo’s bound body. The cop’s face lifting in utter terror just before Kiku punches him so hard he flies through the nearest window. “He whipped me. Hard.” The bruises had taken a couple of weeks to heal. For days, he couldn’t sit down and had to sleep on his stomach. At first, he’d even run a

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fever and stayed in bed a whole weekend. Mojo had been frantic, worried the cop had permanently damaged him. A jolt of pain shot through his backside, propelling him forward. Thankfully, the wealth of soft pillows and bedding absorbed his cringing body. His hand released Kiku’s to fist the pillow. The same soul-wringing, searing pain he’d felt then, under the cop’s strap, lashed him now, as if it were all happening again. Back then, the cop’s presence had made Suzuki’s offer of relationship seem a welcome escape. “It’s all right, Yuzo-chan, I’m here.” Again, Kiku’s voice, that deep, smooth voice comforted him, made him feel strong, able to fight. Kiku’s large hand remained a warm presence on his skin as another battle broke out between the pleasant tingling from Kiku’s touch and the destructive energy he’d allowed into his body. “Try to relax,” Kiku said. “This person is best dealt with by ignoring him if you can.” Kiku smoothed his hand in a circle over Yuzo’s ass cheek. “Focus your attention on my hand, Yuzo-chan. Only on my hand.” Yuzo panted into the pillow but turned his face to respond. “I’ll try.” Kiku smiled. “Very good.” He continued to massage the round muscle in slow circles, his touch just firm enough to leave a tingling trail but not enough to knead the skin. Then Yuzo felt a second hand on the other side. Kiku rubbed the same easy circles on both sides of his ass now. For several seconds, icy heat pulsed through his entire backside. As it met the searing pain within, it seemed to melt the cop’s qi. “Take a deep breath, Yuzo-chan. He’s really not so tough. He wants his partners to cry, to feel humiliated and bested, so he gets no satisfaction from someone who’s indifferent. Unlike Suzuki, he’ll go away if ignored.” Yuzo nodded against the pillow and closed his eyes, channelling all the concentration he possibly could into feeling Kiku’s hands. “I’m trying,” he breathed as another wave of pain gripped him. He clutched at the pillow with both hands, his entire body as tense as a wire stretched with a million pounds of pressure. Vaguely, he felt the heat of Kiku’s body leaning over him, heard the sound of a cap coming off a bottle, followed by the scent of meadowy herbs in the air and then something slip in the crevice of his buttocks. Kiku’s fingertip, coated with oil. Gentle pressure brushed over his opening. It felt slick and warm, an island of delicious sensation in the ocean of pain washing through his body.

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“I’m sorry, little one,” he heard Kiku say, his tone mournful yet also sensuous. “I should have done this last night. It would have helped you more.” His words were followed by another brush of oiled fingertip. Back and forth over the puckered bud of Yuzo’s opening, then in tiny circles. Yuzo moaned softly, partly from the pain, partly from an elation sweeping through him, fighting the tide of evil inside him. He managed to lift his head enough to look into Kiku’s flushed face. “Are you…giving me…your…yang?” “Yes. But I don’t want to hurt you.” “You could never hurt me.” Yuzo rested his cheek on the pillow and spread his thighs. The best imaginable thing that could ever happen to him was about to happen. “Thank you for your trust.” Kiku probed his hole gently and pushed his finger in, to the first knuckle, then in deeper, when Yuzo’s body didn’t resist. Yuzo let out another moan at the delicious invasion. Kiku’s thumb caressed his ass muscles as he moved his finger in deeper, pushing slowly in through one slow circle after the next. “Kiku-sama.” The name escaped on his next breath and spiralled in his own ears. “I’m here, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku shifted the angle of his finger and the thick digit pushed against Yuzo’s prostate. A blast of energy radiated through Yuzo’s lower body, like an invisible bomb of pleasure scattering the pain. Yuzo thrust his hips upward, against Kiku’s hand, crazy for more. “Oh, Kiku-sama!” He breathed the other man’s name over and over, unable to hold back. Suddenly, Kiku’s finger slipped away. The absence was terrible, like a sudden cold darkness. Yuzo’s heart thumped. If Kiku left him now, the cop’s qi could invade him again, couldn’t it? He found himself mournful…until…Kiku picked up the bottle of oil again and drizzled some into one large palm. Yuzo pulled in a breath from the force of his inner whoop of joy. He watched Kiku’s hand go to his own cock. The dark red shaft stood in a hard curve from his broad, painted body and Yuzo felt wildly pleased that he’d had this effect on a man like Kiku. Kiku smoothed the oil up and down his cock, making the blushing veined member glisten. Yuzo’s eyes squeezed shut as an answering spasm of want gripped his opening.

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Kiku set the oil down, shifted his large body and then covered Yuzo, a hard blanket of muscle and warmth settling down the length of his back and ass and thighs. “I’m not too heavy on you, am I?” Kiku’s breath was warm across his ear. Too heavy? The question was totally ridiculous. Yuzo was in absolute heaven. “No, never.” “Good.” Kiku followed the word with the brush of his lips on the nape of Yuzo’s neck. One large hand stole back down between Yuzo’s ass cheeks and spread him open. Yuzo felt Kiku’s hips rock and then the nudge of his dragon’s head at his opening. Yuzo’s breath suspended in the glorious moments while Kiku pushed the head in and rested there, letting Yuzo get used to the largeness filling his ass. After the initial tiny pinch, there was nothing but delicious thickness filling Yuzo’s opening. Kiku-sama was inside him! “You feel good, Yuzo-chan,” Kiku rasped into his ear. “So do you,” he managed to breathe. This was absolute heaven. Kiku pushed in deeper and Yuzo’s eyes squeezed shut against the awesome pressure filling him. The larger man let out a long soft groan and pushed, once, then again, then… A quick sharp slide burrowed Kiku’s dragon inside him until their bodies bumped. “Ohhh!” Yuzo’s hand clenched around the pillow, but then was covered by Kiku’s larger hand, lacing their fingers together. “Just feel me inside you,” Kiku said, his voice like melting chocolate. He gave a small push of his hips and his thickness nudged Yuzo’s prostate again, a magical spot that made a shimmer of pleasure through his balls. The powerful wave cascaded back up Yuzo’s abdomen, echoed in his ribcage, then shot to his nipples. Each thrust of Kiku’s cock inside him sent another wave, then another. Kiku’s body heat radiated into him from behind and a sheen of sweat made the man’s chest and stomach slide against his back and ass.

Kiku squeezed Yuzo’s fingers between his own as he rocked against the slimmer man’s ass. Sweet heaven. Lord Buddha. The smiling golden goddess Kwon Yin and all that was holy needed to be witness to what was happening now. The willowy, beautiful man underneath him was absorbing his yang force as if it were the most precious substance on Earth and Kiku felt a torrent of energy flow between their bodies, a force the made him feel as if he would rocket

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out of his body straight into the heavens above. This was beyond the dark twinkling lights. Beyond the pleasure of floating in the Chamber of Returnings, a place he’d been to with other lovers. The ecstatic sharing of qi between two partners was said to be the rarest of achievements, a virtually unreachable ideal painted on an instructional scroll locked in the safe at the White Tiger Temple in Shanghai. Not a living, breathing reality here in his bed. In his body and soul. Kiku pulled his dragon back several inches and thrust in again. Yuzo’s tight channel hugged his dragon like a silken glove. The skin of Yuzo’s back was like more creamy silk, massaging his nipples with each glide of his body over Yuzo’s. Yuzo’s scent, clean and innocent within its sexual musk, pervaded his senses, and softened his entire being into a velvet cloud. The ends of Yuzo’s hair brushed his chin and jaw, the light wisps catching on his morning stubble. Yuzo’s fingers squeezed his as if the man were hanging onto him for dear life, as if he’d found a precious anchor in the storm of his life. Even Yuzo’s soft moans and panting breaths shimmered through him, deepening the sense of floating that was taking him over. Kiku braced his other arm on the mattress and rested his hand on Yuzo’s forearm. He drew back and pushed his cock in again, falling into a rhythm—his body against Yuzo’s, the silken glide and suction of each pull on his dragon, followed by a surge of heat right into his balls, their breaths rising and falling in syncopation; their combined scents of body heat and musk releasing into the air around them. Kiku lowered his mouth to Yuzo’s shoulder and licked the delicate sweat off his skin. Mmm, Yuzo’s lightly salty flavour rolled on his tongue, and filled him with its sweet essence. Who’d have imagined that once the dirty yang had been cleansed from Yuzo, there would have been such a store of sweet, dewy yin inside him, like pure rainwater kept in a barrel after a spring storm? Kiku swirled his tongue over a new spot on Yuzo’s skin, drinking in the man’s yin rain as he would savour a sip of fine plum wine. Unable to stop, Kiku suckled and drank from Yuzo’s skin, across the nape of his neck, over the delicate but hard slopes of fine muscle that formed the connection from his neck to his shoulders, while his hips found a rhythm of gentle pounding against Yuzo’s ass. “Kiku-sama,” Yuzo breathed, “That’s…so…good.” Yuzo’s murmurs were muffled by the position of his cheek against the pillows. But Kiku heard every word, as if the sound of Yuzo’s voice emanated from his own body. Each deep stroke into Yuzo’s channel blurred the

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sense of physical limitation of their forms until Kiku could barely distinguish where his own body ended and Yuzo’s began. It was as if their two bodies formed the yin-yang, a living, breathing fusion of spirit. Kiku wanted it to last forever. The sweet union he’d been seeking all these years was building inside him, a gentle swirling energy, like a ball of heat being planted directly in his don tien, the spot just below his navel. He released another impassioned breath. It was happening to him! He felt it. Every nerve ending of his body, every cell that comprised every inch of his body felt it. Yuzo’s gentle, trusting energy, opening to him, absorbing him, was making it happen…the promise of the White Tiger path he’d followed all these years. Kiku hadn’t been able to achieve this with Ryu or Chan Chan because of the visions. The spiritual embryo of yin and yang planted inside a human being by constant practice with a partner could never happen because the visions wrenched him away before it could happen. Now, he felt the birth inside him, a vibrant joy that radiated through every cell of his body and through his soul. For many long glorious moments, Kiku floated in the weightless realm of freedom. His body moved inside Yuzo, guided by his consciousness, which enveloped his body and enveloped Yuzo and the entire world. Yuzo’s body and soul still needed the yang he could give it, so Kiku couldn’t retain his emission and stay in this place as he would have wished. The pressure was building deep in his yang sac, like sap rising in the trunk of a tree. Yuzo’s tight passage was milking his dragon, drawing the precious qi upward. Harder and harder it pulsed and swirled with each beat until it reached the point of no return. Kiku groaned and pressed his lips to Yuzo’s back as his dragon’s cloud filled the slimmer man. Wave after wave gushed into Yuzo followed by the vapours, the ethereal part of his yang cloud, which covered them, enveloped them in a loving fog. Underneath him, Yuzo’s body stiffened. His fingers curled tightly around Kiku’s and he groaned softly into the pillow, the sounds and movements of a man in the midst of climax. Kiku closed his eyes as his dragon emptied its gift into Yuzo. He wished the loving vapour could remain around Yuzo always, protecting him from cruel people who were drawn to his innocent beauty and used it to feed their perversions. He pressed a kiss to Yuzo’s shoulder. His spent dragon, still half-hard, rested inside Yuzo. The weight of his brawn pressed Yuzo deeply into the mattress, but Yuzo didn’t seem to mind. His breath still rose and fell heavily, but his back muscles were relaxed against

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Kiku’s chest, and his fingers relaxed their clutching hold. Kiku closed his eyes again and breathed in the other man’s scent. He sighed and rested his cheek against Yuzo’s shoulder, acutely aware that their physical contact still did not produce images in his mind’s eye. If it had, he would not have had the rush of energy into his heart he’d experienced moments ago. That’s when it hit him. Yuzo was the partner Kiku had needed for so long. That realisation led his thoughts immediately down a heartbreaking path. Yuzo would have to leave as soon as he was ready. To keep him here would be utter madness, a sure fire way to endanger every man under this roof. He suppressed a growl of frustration. Didn’t it just figure! Didn’t it just fucking figure that the man he’d finally made love to whose qi complemented his own and showed him his own possible fulfilment of the Path was Suzuki’s runaway! He heaved a deep breath, one which dislodged his now-soft dragon from Yuzo’s jade gate, and slid gently off Yuzo onto his side. With a hand on Yuzo’s shoulder, he motioned him onto his back. Yuzo yielded easily under his touch, his body pliant and relaxed. Kiku looked across at him and was immediately trapped by the other man’s gaze, part dreamy, part troubled. A lock of Yuzo’s hair had fallen across his eyes and his pale face, flushed from sex, wore a light sheen of sweat. Yuzo’s plump, soft lips full of yin rain were slightly parted. Without thought, Kiku slid the fingers of one hand into Yuzo’s hair and leaned in to kiss him. Or rather, to drink from his incredible yin-soaked lips. At the first touch of their lips together, Kiku’s stomach made a strange dance, his body’s way of warning him not to fall, to stop right now. No! his mind yelled out to him. Yuzo’s qi is cleansed now. Get out of the bed this instant. Your work is done here. But he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to move one inch away from the other man’s slim, hard, yet kittenish body. As if by mutual decision, their bodies sank together, chest to chest. Kiku felt one of Yuzo’s hands slide around his back and rest, palm down on the muscle. Yuzo was sighing again, that tiny sweet sound that sent ripples, like potent sound waves through Kiku’s soul. Yuzo slid his thigh against Kiku’s and Kiku felt the other man’s dragon stirring again— Something trickled into Kiku’s awareness, through the pleasant haze of their tongues swirling around each other’s.

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Suzuki again, leaving him phone messages on his voice mail. Though Kiku’s phone was off, he felt the yak’s vibes almost as strongly as if the man were in the building. The eerie hum of energy alone seemed to cut off the flow of blood to his dragon. With a hand on Yuzo’s shoulder, Kiku gently but firmly pulled his mouth away from the kiss and leaned back, looking into Yuzo’s eyes. The smaller man’s lips were swollen and gleaming again from their kisses and the flush in his pale skin made a rosy glow around his deep velvety eyes. “You saved my life, Kiku-sama,” he said, not seeming to notice that Kiku was trying to disengage himself from their embrace. Kiku relented for the moment and reached out, caressing Yuzo’s hair. It was far from the first time he’d heard those words. Every man here had said it to him at one time or another, even Koji, Naoto’s lover, and all he’d ever done for Koji was to pair him with Naoto when he’d checked in here as a horribly overworked salaryman in need of vacation. But what Koji didn’t seem to understand—what none of them understood yet—was that he’d been willing to be helped. As had Naoto. And Ryu. Basho. The twins. “I wouldn’t want anything bad ever to happen to you,” was all he could say to Yuzo. He had to pull away before he drowned in those eyes, reeling as he still was from what had happened during their lovemaking. And Yuzo needed to rest, something Kiku had a strong feeling he wouldn’t do if they remained in bed together. His own dragon was already more than tingling back to life, hungry for more of Yuzo’s sweet yin nectar. With great effort he sat up and pushed the covers off himself. He reached over and pressed the button at the bedside. Naoto would know to come up with a tray of food for both of them, at which time, Kiku would ask after Ryu and Chan Chan. No doubt this latest occurrence would be a sting to both of them, but he couldn’t help it. And then, he’d need to find out from Naoto if Koji could come and keep Yuzo company while he worked in the office and, unfortunately, return the phone calls Suzuki had no doubt made to him already. Koji was an old-fashioned gentleman and his yin nature would be perfect to help Yuzo remain at ease. Kiku was certain of this because the man had passed the acid test. When he was a guest here, he’d won Ryu over immediately in moments. Ryu had accepted Koji’s presence here wholeheartedly and without reservation, something Ryu had never done with anyone before. Koji was the gentlest person Kiku had ever met. Apparently, Naoto felt so too and had fallen head over heels for him in one week.

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When he turned, Yuzo was looking at him with a questioning and worried expression. Kiku smiled. “Don’t worry, little one. It’s time to have something to eat and then I must get some work done.” He reached for his drawstring pants. Yuzo’s expression grew dreamy again. “I like when you call me that,” he said, lounging against the pillows, watching Kiku slip one leg at a time into his pants and then tie the string at the waist. “Little one.” A strange shiver passed through Kiku’s chest. Kuso. There was one phrase that completely described little Yuzo: love-starved. He let his hands fall away after tying his pants and looked into Yuzo’s eyes. “Good, because it fits you. Now, stay there and rest. Don’t underestimate the draining effect of last night.” Yuzo grinned. “Can I get up to pee?” His eyes sparkled now, a far cry from the frantic look that had dominated them when he’d first gotten here. Kiku chuckled. “Of course you can.” He watched Yuzo push back the covers, get up and pad around towards the bathroom, smiling at him the whole time. Kiku reached for his kimono, slung over one of the low chairs and handed it to Yuzo as he passed. Yuzo accepted it and bowed. “Arigato,” he said, his smile fading. An air of formality came over him as he slipped the white silky robe on and tied the belt. “I mean for everything, Kiku-sama.” He looked as if he wanted to go up on tip-toe and kiss Kiku and then realised that somehow it was inappropriate for that moment. “You’re welcome, Yuzo-chan, always.” Their gazes lingered on each other a second longer before Yuzo turned and went into the bathroom. When Yuzo was safely out of the room, Kiku turned on his phone, ostensibly to check what time it was, but also to see if his feeling was correct. His second sight hadn’t lied. Two voice mail messages awaited him. Both from Suzuki.

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Chapter Eight

Before returning Suzuki’s calls, Kiku sat down at his desk and took a few deep, centring breaths. He’d put the task off as long as possible while having a meal with Yuzo and then making sure Yuzo was introduced to, and put at ease with, Koji. He needn’t have worried. Koji was complete friendly and non-threatening, and Yuzo had immediately begun chatting with him about manga and about Koji’s growing career as an artist as soon as he saw the drawing pad under Koji’s arm. Cursing the day he’d ever met Taro Suzuki, Kiku opened his phone and pressed the button that would dial the man’s number. The yak picked up on the second ring. “Fuju, you decided to call me back.” Suzuki was obviously trying to sound composed, but Kiku wasn’t fooled. One spoken word clued him in to the coiled anger and betrayal the man was feeling. Kiku pulled in another deep breath. Never was it more important to stay controlled as in this moment. Suzuki was a madman, but he could also be a very perceptive one. No doubt he would eventually somehow figure out the truth. “What can I help you with?” A wry chuckle on the other end met his question. “When have you ever helped me, Fuju?” Tension pulled at the tendons in Kiku’s neck and he reached back, rubbing his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. “Why did you call?” The pressure spread like a vine through his entire upper back. Did Suzuki already know? Or was he simply toying with him as he was wont to do? For some reason, his perception felt muddled. “Yuzo is missing.” Cold prickles of energy darted through Kiku’s chest. “And?” He stopped his massage and palmed the back of his neck, resting it there. He needed the concentration to keep his breathing normal. To force his voice not to betray him. He was playing with a hungry shark. “I wanted to know if you might have seen him.” Fuck. “We’ve been very busy here. Besides, I don’t get out much.” “I asked you a yes or no question.” “No.”

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Pause. “Are you certain of that, Fuju? Maybe you want to think about it a moment before answering.” The tension in Kiku’s shoulders squeezed into pain. “Why would I have seen him?” As usual, Suzuki was listening to him carefully, dissecting every word he said and the way he said it. Hostility crackled through the line. “Because, if you had seen him and didn’t tell me, it would be bad for you.” Kiku took in a deep breath, taking care not to let Suzuki hear the sound. “Do you have a message for him, in case I do see him? Something that would encourage him to be found?” “Yes. Tell him I want him to come home because whoever has helped him not come home will pay, and it will be all his fault. Got that? Maybe you should write it down.” Kiku squeezed the phone and hunched over. He started to rub his neck again. Hard. If Suzuki didn’t suspect him of knowing Yuzo’s whereabouts, he certainly suspected that Kiku would help Yuzo out if given half a chance. They knew each other too well not to know these things as given. “Got it.” “Very good, Fuju.” Suzuki cleared his throat. How was it that, with a mere few words, the yak could make someone feel like a dying mouse batted around by a cat? “Let’s be honest here. That’s what I value about our relationship. That I can be honest with you. You sure as hell aren’t honest with me. But that’s okay. I trust you to be a lying shit. If you have seen or do see Yuzo, you’ll never give him that message. I’m sure he’d end up in your bed long before that would happen. Knowing you, your cock has a very good chance of already having been up his ass. So if I find out that you did have an opportunity to…um…encourage him to come home and show a little gratitude for what he’s been given, and that you didn’t take advantage of it, well, then, you’ve given me an opportunity to get closer to you-knowwho.” Hot anger surged through Kiku, so hard he had to hold the phone away to prevent himself from letting loose a string of curses. The fucker. He’d have Suzuki shoot him through the head at close range before he’d let the yak touch Ryu again. He put the phone back to his ear. “I consider myself warned,” he muttered. “Don’t fuck with me, Fuju. There are limits to what I can do to you, but there is some space to work with, as you well know.”

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Yeah, he knew. No doubt if he grew his hair longer again, most of it would be grey now as a result of Suzuki’s space to work with. “I will not toy with you in such a way that would put Ryu at risk.” Pause. Then Suzuki chuckled, the sound threatening to careen into the high pitched frightening cackle he made when he really wanted to mess with a person’s head. “Whatever you say, Fuju.” And then the line clicked off. Kiku pressed the end call button on his phone and set it down on the desk. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Kiku-sensei?” Kiku pulled his hand away and turned at Naoto’s voice in the doorway. Naoto stood there, brow furrowed. “Are you all right?” He nodded and gestured for the other man to come in and sit down. As Naoto approached and lowered himself into a chair on the other side of the desk, Kiku felt a wave of relief. Naoto’s protectiveness and devotion helped him feel the White Tiger had a chance to remain safe from Suzuki’s threatening presence. “You were speaking to Suzuki, weren’t you?” The question was more of a statement and Kiku could hear the undertone of deep dislike. Naoto hated yakuza, especially since one of them had killed his first lover a little more than three years ago. “Yes.” Kiku sighed and leaned forward on his elbows. For some strange reason, the movement made him think of Yuzo and he was suddenly gripped with the wildest urge to go upstairs, pull Yuzo to him and bury his face into the younger man’s hair. Selfish as it was, he already craved that peaceful sweetness he felt when he touched Yuzo. It didn’t make sense, this calming effect Yuzo had on him. But then again, nothing in life really made sense. Also, Yuzo was upstairs, recovering from Suzuki’s damage. Yuzo wasn’t here to give comfort. He was here to be healed and then to leave. “Do you think he knows?” Naoto asked. Kiku’s gut tightened. Lying to Suzuki was something he did regularly, but not about something so immediate and threatening. “Let me put it this way, he doesn’t necessarily think that Yuzo is here, but he is acutely aware that I would help Yuzo if he did come here and threatened me to that effect. Which is why Yuzo must leave as soon as he’s ready.” Naoto nodded quietly and Kiku saw by the man’s expression that he observed a change in his friend but would remain as respectful as possible and not probe about it.

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Kiku smoothed a hand over his head and leaned back in his chair. “We’ll discuss it more tonight at supper,” he said. “Yuzo will obviously need clothing, money and transportation. Ryu is close to his size. I’ll ask him to lend Yuzo some things to wear.” There was also that uncle of Yuzo’s. The actor. Apparently they had a good relationship and no doubt, the man would want to help Yuzo. But really, it was better if Yuzo’s uncle knew as little as possible about what was happening. Naoto was silent a moment before speaking again. “If he can ride a motorcycle, I have one he could use. It was Lee’s. His mother gave it to me after he died. I’ve kept it stored at her place. I’ve worked on it when needed so it should be running all right.” Kiku looked at him. “Are you sure? It must mean a lot to you, this bike.” “It does, but…well, with Koji here now, things are easier.” Naoto’s rugged features softened just mentioning Koji’s name. He’d fallen head over heels for the slim, quiet man who’d been in his care when Koji was a guest here. Koji had been a basket-case, haunted by secrets, but Naoto’s massages and careful attention had unearthed an impressive, honourable man who was equally as in love with Naoto. And Koji’s yin nature had a balancing effect on Naoto whose raw yang energy overwhelmed him at times and had once almost gotten him killed. Naoto and Koji were a perfect match. “Besides,” Naoto added, “Lee would have wanted Yuzo to have it if it helps him.” “Thank you, Nao-chan.” Kiku looked at his friend a moment longer then down at his desk. Some bills waited on its surface, needing his attention. Pulling his mind from his desire to think of Yuzo, to remember the man’s scent and the silken texture of his flawless skin, Kiku focused on the work at hand. In spite of his efforts, his thoughts turned back to Yuzo anyway. As did the physical craving to hold him. Kiku pulled in a deep breath. It probably would be wiser not to make love to Yuzo again. The spiritual embryo had been planted this morning. Once that happened, maybe he might not even need a partner to develop it. With enough meditation… Kiku clenched his jaw. Selfish. He was being selfish. What about Yuzo? What of his suffering? Kiku hated when he became selfish like that, only thinking of his own need. Then again, how could he not feel this way? In spite of being surrounded night and day by beautiful men and having Chan Chan to make love with regularly, he felt so overwhelmingly alone most of the time, not being able to get as close as he wanted. Needed. Yuzo’s sweet yin rain had been like a monsoon flooding the dry, cracked terrain of his soul, transforming it

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into fertile ground. He’d have thought it impossible, considering the state Yuzo had been in when he got here. And yet, it had happened. Yuzo had absorbed his yang, relished it like an emperor at a banquet and had transformed overnight from a wounded bird into showing promise of the tiger that really lurked within him. Kiku sighed. He should have been glad. Hadn’t helping the man been his aim? Lao Tzu said that to “calm a man’s will and brace his bones were a true leader’s aim.” He was being greedy now, wanting more for himself. Yuzo’s wellbeing was all that mattered, and a large part of his wellbeing included getting out of Tokyo as soon as possible. Hopefully their two encounters would give Yuzo the yang he needed to keep his injured qi restored. If he had enough, he could practice on his own and then, someday, maybe he could find a new lover whose yang force would be beneficial for him rather than harmful. Kuso. That thought was too depressing to linger on for even a second. When he glanced up, Naoto was looking at him sympathetically. Though Naoto remained quiet, Kiku could practically read the man’s thoughts. Naoto recognised what was happening to his friend because it had happened to him with Koji. Kiku managed a smile. “It’s that noticeable, isn’t it?” Naoto bowed his head as if he’d been caught peeping. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s all right, my friend.” The other man looked up, his expression sheepish at first, then worried. Sensing Naoto’s concern, not just for him but for all of them, he nodded. “It’s all right,” he said again, though they both knew it wasn’t.

**** Yuzo tried so hard to sit still. After all, Koji had asked his permission to sketch him. That was flattering. Maybe Koji would even use his image in one of his manga. But energy crackled through Yuzo, making him tremble. He’d always been that way his whole life. In his teens at night, the only way he could cope had been to climb out his window and roam the streets with his friends until dawn. He’d go to school, then come home afterward and crash for a few hours until it was time to sneak out again. Even imprisonment under Suzuki’s

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thumb hadn’t managed to destroy his energy though he’d become so much more irritable. Headaches all the time and the constant desire just to curl up into a ball and die. Yuzo focused his attention on the gentle scratch of Koji’s pencil against the white paper. The sound calmed him a bit, but the hum of energy remained. Thanks to Kiku’s yang, Yuzo felt cleaner, more life-loving. The way he’d felt when he used to roar through the streets of Tokyo on his bike. The way he’d felt this morning under Kiku’s muscular body and sensual caress. Never had he felt happier in his whole life than he had this morning. His cock tightened underneath the kimono he was wearing. Kuso. Good thing the blanket was covering his lower body, hiding his excitement from Koji. Not that it mattered how happy he was in Kiku’s bed or how hot Kiku made him feel. He’d be leaving here soon. In the next couple of days, most likely. How he’d tell Uncle Tokuma that he’d be gone probably for good, he didn’t know. The poor man had already been through enough. But maybe Kiku would know how to handle that. Kiku was so smart and beautiful and cool. Kiku’s male scent still clung to his skin and to the sheets. Yuzo could smell the man with each breath he took. He needed to memorise that smell so he could take it with him when he left. He sighed. What a horrible shadow he’d brought to hang over his life. Suzuki’s shadow, the direct consequence of having gotten involved with him against the advice of everyone around him. He’d probably be running for the rest of his life. The ugly restlessness that haunted him returned and he cast about for ways to dispel it. “Koji-san, how did you come to be here?” he asked, then realised he was being rude again. Not only was he breaking the man’s concentration, but Koji’s life was none of his business. He bowed quickly. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.” But Koji smiled even though his pencil kept moving. The man had a warm smile and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was amazingly handsome and sweet. “It’s all right. Don’t apologise.” His gaze remained trained on his drawing pad as he spoke. “I came here on vacation. Well, actually, my boss forced me to go on vacation because I was working myself into the ground.” His smile faded. “I was getting seriously ill. So I came here. Naoto took care of me. He got me well again.” The smile returned, but this time it was dreamy and the look reached Koji’s large eyes. Now he stopped sketching and looked at Yuzo. “I felt so safe with him and so nervous at the same time. He gave me saké when I first got here to help me relax but I drank too much of it

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and started telling him how beautiful he was.” Koji’s cheeks coloured. “I’d never met anyone like him. I tried to leave when my vacation was over. I needed to get on with my work. There was a woman. A friend. My family wanted me to marry her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stay away from Naoto.” Koji looked down and for a moment and Yuzo suddenly realised how intently he’d been listening to Koji. His hands were curled into the blankets, squeezing it and his heartbeat had sped up. So much of what Koji was saying seemed to mirror his own experience with Kiku. “That’s so romantic, Koji-san,” he said. The blush in Koji’s cheeks deepened and he canted his gaze upward with a shy look in his eyes. “Yes. Romantic.” He paused and then lifted the pad. “I finished your picture. Would you like to see it?” “Oh yes.” His body and mind still tingling from the thought of romance, Yuzo leaned forward and peered at the drawing Koji put in front of him. Wow. Yuzo stared at the face gazing back at him from the paper. Koji was an amazing artist. In true shōjo style complete with flowers in the background, he’d rendered Yuzo from the waist up, a slender form of a willowy man in a kimono, looking out at the world. Locks of hair hung over the forehead of a large-eyed, delicately featured face. The longer he looked at Koji’s drawing, the more he saw that Koji had captured many emotions in the large eyes—fear, desire, mischief, sadness, as if Koji could see deep inside him, almost the way Kiku did. “Do you like it?” Yuzo looked up. Koji was gazing at him expectantly. “I love it, Koji-san,” he said. “Thank you.” He bowed. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me draw you.” Koji bowed in return. Yuzo felt a pang in his chest. Koji was someone he’d never have become friends with on his own. He’d always managed to hook up with guys like Mojo, well-meaning mostly, but lost and street-toughened. This place was so different. Koji was so…clean. So gentle. “It was an honour for me, Koji-san,” he said. “You made me look so much like a star.” He felt himself about to babble, something he always did when he was nervous. Not that Koji was making him nervous, but becoming friends with people made him nervous, because he didn’t want them to hate him when they saw what a selfish jerk he really was. He’d never want Koji to hate him. “You made me look like Gackt or Hyde. But Gackt is much taller than

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I am and very statuesque. Hyde is small and cute with great big huge eyes. Which one do you think I look more like?” Koji looked at him a moment, as if surprised by his rambling, but then his expression grew thoughtful. He studied Yuzo’s face for several moments in that gentle yet serious way he seemed to have. Finally he spoke and made Yuzo’s heart jump with his words. “I think you look like Yuzo,” he said softly.

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Chapter Nine

Suzuki walked into the Ace Club early in the evening and scanned the place where he’d met and wooed Yuzo. No doubt someone here might have seen or heard from the bastard. He might as well search every corner of Ni Chome because he sure as hell would never get answers out of Fuju. That baka had been lying to him through his teeth this morning on the phone and they both knew it. The man was a consummate liar, of course, and the truth was he either had already seen and fucked Yuzo or knew where the little prick was. Fuju’s little untruth about how he never got out was a prize. Kikuchiya Fujimara owned one of the world’s most popular gay getaways. He was around people all the time, not to mention he’d once been vastly connected and was physically a man who stood out no matter where he went. Calling Fuju had merely been a way of jabbing at the guy, of letting him know that an eye would be kept on him through this whole thing. Fuju wouldn’t get away with any shit he tried. If Suzuki had his own way, he’d already have punished him. Fuju had insulted him and committed enough crimes against him over the years to warrant it. But, seeing as Naboru Miyazaki’s son lived in the White Tiger, Suzuki couldn’t just go in and burn the place as he would wish. Not even the harm such an act would do to his career mattered as much. Ryu Miyazaki was the one person in the world worth a shit. And so, Suzuki would search other avenues for the time being, hoping they’d lead to the little rat who could then be flushed out of whatever corner he was hiding in. If that corner happened to be the White Tiger, so much the better. Suzuki pulled out a cigarette and looked around. As usual, the pianist in the corner was playing mellow jazz tunes and the patrons chatted and drank at the bar and at the tables and booths lining the mood-darkened room. He huffed and walked deeper into the host club. None of the hustlers in here were as fine as Yuzo. When he’d taken Yuzo away, they’d probably lost a lot of business. “Suzuki-san, how nice to see you.” The maître d’, a thin pencil-necked little bastard approached him and bowed deeply before lighting his cigarette for him. “How can I help

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you?” Kaori’s eyes darted back and forth. Terrified little ass-kisser this one was. The kind of worm he delighted in beating the shit out of. “I’m looking for Yuzo.” Suzuki pulled out a couple of large bills and stuffed them into the other man’s jacket pocket. Surely the bonus would help him find Yuzo faster than his own two morons. Those baka couldn’t find their asses in broad daylight with both hands. If he hadn’t had to concern himself with the pecking order under his father and making sure he stayed within it, he’d have already punished the assholes for letting Yuzo slip away. Kaori’s narrow face clouded. “He hasn’t been here in months. Not since he quit.” Suzuki gritted his teeth and took a hard drag on his cigarette. He exhaled into Kaori’s face before speaking. “Certainly you have a phone number on file for him.” The other man waved a hand, trying discreetly to dispel the smoke. “No need. Mojo is here. They…ah…lived in the same place. If anyone might know where Yuzo is, it would be Mojo.” “Where is he?” “Over at the bar.” Kaori looked distinctly uncomfortable. Clearly he didn’t want Suzuki in here for any other business than being hosted, but wasn’t about to object, especially faced with three armed yakuza. “Third one from the left at the bar.” With a curt nod, Suzuki dropped his cigarette, ground it out into the carpet and crossed over to the bar. He came to a stop behind Mojo. The guy was only a little bigger than Yuzo, his hair dyed a deep reddish brown, spiked up and highlighted to perfection. He was perched on the edge of a stool, leaning into a paunchy, pasty-faced salaryman who was gazing back at him as if he held the key to the universe. But even from behind, Suzuki could see that Yuzo’s friend was a guttersnipe dressed up to look good. “Mojo.” Mojo turned, causing the gold highlights in his hair to glint. When his gaze met Suzuki’s, he started the tiniest bit. “Yeah?” From the front, Mojo was pretty enough although unlike Yuzo, Mojo had an edge that hardened his face. Not someone who’d grown up pampered and spoiled like the little prince he was looking for. “I need to talk to you.” He flicked a glance to Mojo’s companion. The man bowed politely and turned quickly to the bar. As Suzuki had done with Kaori, he pulled out some bills. But when he went to stuff them into Mojo’s pocket, the guy backed up a step, his eyes hard. “Look, if there’s something you need to know, just ask.”

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So, the little bastard thought he was tough. Suzuki chuckled, putting his money away. No need for a pissing contest right here. Mojo would lose anyway. “All right, then. I’m looking for Yuzo.” That got his attention. Mojo’s eyes widened from their narrowed, guarded state. “Why would you think I know where he is?” He glanced at his companion as if making sure the guy was still there. He was. Mojo didn’t need to worry. With that guy’s frog face, it wasn’t as if another hustler would snatch him away. “Kaori said you lived in the same place.” A shadow flickered over Mojo’s semi-pretty face. Yeah, he had it for Yuzo, although Suzuki couldn’t imagine a piece like Yuzo wasting his time on this urchin. Mojo didn’t even have the right lips for a proper blow job and the look on his face made you think he’d bite your cock off if given a chance. “That was a long time ago,” Mojo said bitterly. “Yuzo moved out and didn’t say where he was going. Never heard from him since.” Sounded like Yuzo.

Mojo struggled to steady the pounding in his heart. Suzuki, like all yakuza, scared the crap out of him, almost as much as that sadistic undercover cop who sucked around Ni Chome, trying to get guys like him and Yuzo to wear wires. It was just like this yak prick to bother him while he was with a customer. Some people earned their money through honest means and Suzuki couldn’t even let him do that in peace. And even if he did know where Yuzo was, he wouldn’t tell this piece of shit. Yuzo could be standing right next to him, yanking on his dick and he’d tell Suzuki he didn’t know where Yuzo was. Not that he would protect Yuzo or anything after the way Yuzo had abandoned him. One night, Yuzo had sung him a song about getting away from the cop, packed up his shit, which had consisted almost completely of beauty products and then disappeared. Just like that. “If you don’t believe me,” Mojo went on, “I’ll take you to my place when my shift is over and you can look for yourself.” It was a daring move, but one that would definitely keep Suzuki off his back in the future.

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The other man’s rat eyes studied him for a minute as if to assess his honesty. Suzuki must have decided he was telling the truth for he stepped back. “No need. But…” He patted the pocket he’d put the money into, “If you happen to see him or talk to him, call me.” His thick hand slipped into another pocket and pulled out his meishi, which he handed to Mojo. Mojo accepted the business card and held it, making a show of slipping it onto his own jacket pocket, instead of snapping open his cigarette lighter and burning it, which was what he’d do before the night was over. “All right.” He watched Suzuki turn and walk out, flanked by his two goons in nice suits, then breathed a deep sigh and turned back to his customer. The man had politely waited for him and Mojo escorted him to an empty table in a dark corner. He needed the little hiding place to collect himself while his heartbeat calmed back down. He ordered a couple more drinks and worked a smile onto his face for his customer. But his mind swam and his chest ached. It would be just like Yuzo to get himself into trouble. The asshole had hosted Suzuki a bunch of times in spite of everyone’s warnings to stay away from him. It was a good rule in general to avoid yakuza, but especially Suzuki. Of course, Mojo had also warned him off the yak because he just hadn’t wanted to share Yuzo with anyone and Yuzo had a thing for finding an older man to make him feel safe or something like that. He’d never come out and said it, but it was obvious the way he acted. That didn’t mean Yuzo should suffer. Yuzo had hurt him, stomped on his heart, the bastard. But damn, Mojo prayed, hoping there was some force guiding the universe, please don’t let Yuzo have gotten involved with the likes of Taro Suzuki. There was no coming back from shit like that. No one deserved such a fate, especially Yuzo. Yuzo was unique in all the world. There was no one as amazing or as beautiful. He cooked, he sang and danced, he was funny and alive. And he had the most incredible eyes. Saki was cute and loyal and all, but he wasn’t Yuzo. No one was. Mojo turned and leaned back in to his customer. Best to distract himself with work. The man with him wasn’t much to look at, but he was polite and non-threatening. Which could be a nice change at times. For a while at least, he’d get his mind off of Yuzo. Not that he cared anyway.

****

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Someone knocked lightly on the soji screen to Kiku’s room. Yuzo’s heart thumped and he sat up, peering at the shadow behind the rice paper. Had Kiku come back? Since Koji had finished the drawing hours ago, Yuzo had been waiting, hoping he and Kiku would make love again. Not that he’d minded Koji’s company. Koji was so sweet and easy to talk to, someone Yuzo wished he had time to be friends with. It was just…well, he’d missed Kiku. Koji rose and slid the screen open to reveal Ryu. The shorter man held a pile of clothing folded in his arms and a smaller package on top. Ryu’s hot pink hair looked damp, the spikes in messy sections, as if he’d been sweating. Disappointment stabbed Yuzo but he worked on a smile and bowed. With a small smile of greeting to Koji, Ryu bowed to both of them. “Kiku asked me to lend Yuzo some clothing.” Yuzo returned the bow. Guilt spiked him for getting all this attention. After all, Ryu had been hurt by Suzuki too. Suzuki’s rants alone had told Yuzo how fixated the man was on poor Ryu. That was too creepy and frightening. Even now, Ryu must live in terror of the yak and Yuzo’s presence here certainly wasn’t helping him have peace. “Ryu-san, thank you so much. I’ll never be able to repay you.” Ryu approached the bed and knelt down. He placed the clothing on the bed before him. “There’s no need,” he said softly. He glanced at Koji who had come to kneel beside him, giving Yuzo the sense that Koji was protective of Ryu and concerned for his feelings. Ryu lifted a plastic-wrapped package from the top of the pile and held it out with both hands. “I picked these up for you on my way back from the gym. I figured you needed them.” Yuzo accepted the package with both hands and looked at it. Underwear, the kind he’d been wearing last night. Just his size, too. Sudden tears stung his eyes. Stupid to feel so moved by someone buying him underwear, but under the circumstances, the act was incredibly kind. He bowed again. “Thank you, Ryu-san.” “The clothes should fit you. We’re almost the same size.” Yuzo set down the underwear and picked up a shirt folded on top of the pile. He opened it up, a cream coloured T-shirt with cap sleeves. Exactly the kind he wore. It was slightly large since Ryu had thicker upper body muscles than he did, but otherwise appeared a good fit. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. He set it aside and picked up the next item. Baggy pants with a draw string. Yuzo had never worn pants like that in his whole life, always preferring the close fitting hipsters in leather and other such trendy materials. If he wore

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baggy pants, they’d always been the most fashionable cargo-style. But he didn’t dare say any of that to Ryu. This was the same man who’d washed his feet the night before. Besides, the pants looked comfortable. He folded them back up and looked at the other few remaining items. Black pants more like he was used to wearing and a couple of other shirts. One a white button down with a collar and a small ruffle down the front as well as another close-fitting T-shirt in black. Ryu dressed almost the same as he did. They seemed to be alike in several ways, which explained Suzuki. And Kiku-sama. “I can’t thank you enough, Ryu-san.” He looked from Ryu to Koji “You’ve both been so kind to me.” He bowed his head. “I’m so sorry about all this.” He felt a hand gently cover his. Koji remained silent but the sympathy in his touch said everything. Yuzo sighed and blinked back tears. What a wonderful place this was, full of caring, good people. There was obviously a deep, strong bond between them that practically radiated through the walls of the rooms, an energy that wrapped around him and made him feel safe and cared for even though he wasn’t one of them. And what had he brought in return? Trouble, anguish. Suzuki. Not an even exchange. Good thing for the men at the White Tiger that he’d be leaving soon. “How’s it going here?” Kiku’s deep voice in the doorway made them all look up. Joy surged straight through Yuzo’s chest. “Kiku-sama,” he said, hearing the smile in his voice. He watched Kiku walk into the room and restrained himself from launching off the bed and throwing his arms around the other man. Ryu and Koji both stood as Kiku approached. “It’s going well,” Ryu said softly. He gestured to the pile of clothing. “Yuzo has things to wear now.” A tender look came into Kiku’s eyes and he ruffled Ryu’s hair. “Thank you, Ryu,” he murmured.

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Yuzo’s heart jumped. The affection between Kiku and Ryu reminded him of his own intrusion. Ryu had been here long before him. He could never replace Ryu in Kiku’s life, especially considering the circumstances of his being here in the first place. Kiku turned to him and Yuzo saw tenderness in that gaze too. “How are you feeling?” Yuzo smiled, his worry of the previous moment dissipated. Nothing else mattered in the moments he was in Kiku’s presence. “I’m fine. Koji was wonderful company, as you said he’d be. He drew a picture of me. A beautiful picture.” Damn, he was babbling again. He’d always done that when he was nervous. “We’ll go help with supper now,” Koji said. He put a hand on Ryu’s shoulder and drew him towards the door. “Thank you both,” Kiku said. When they were gone, Yuzo rose up on knees. He wanted to reach for Kiku, to feel those strong arms around him, making him feel safe and happy again. But Kiku lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his gaze both gentle and reserved. Yuzo’s stomach flipped. “I…missed you,” he ventured, sinking down onto his heels. He didn’t want to lie back against the pillows as he’d been all afternoon. That felt so far away from Kiku. Kiku smiled at him. Instead of pulling him into an embrace as Yuzo wanted so desperately, Kiku reached out and brushed several fingertips across his cheek. “I missed you too.” There was a disturbing reserve in Kiku’s behaviour, but Yuzo didn’t dare ask him about it. “Are you all right?” he asked instead. To his joy, Kiku reached for his hand. His thumb brushed back and forth over the soft flesh under Yuzo’s thumb. Moments passed but Kiku didn’t say anything and Yuzo felt the enormity of their situation more potently than if Kiku had answered in words. Kiku had a building full of men to worry about. It was probably hard enough running this place and keeping Suzuki off his back without the extra provocation Yuzo knew his presence here would give the yak. It had been incredibly selfish to even hope that Kiku had also experienced the unbelievable connection between them in bed. Yuzo sat quietly with him, loving the feel of his hand surrounded by Kiku’s larger hand. Everything about the man made Yuzo feel safe. Protected. Stronger. He only hoped that when he left here, he could take that feeling with him to get him through the rest of his life.

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**** The rest of the men at the White Tiger turned out to be as gracious and kind as Ryu and Koji. Yuzo met them at supper after showering, putting on the new underwear, baggy pants and one of the T-shirts Ryu had lent him and following Kiku downstairs. At first he’d stayed close to Kiku’s side, automatically drawn into the wake of his strength and unsure of how he’d be received by the others, especially Naoto who’d been kind to him but whose raw simmering energy made Yuzo feel slightly uneasy. Basho the cook—no…chef was the correct word for him,—after having eaten Basho’s cooking for lunch earlier today—greeted him with a smile and set a place for him at the large round kitchen table, between Kiku and himself. Then there were Mod and Tatou, identical twins who were from England but who were also obviously part Asian judging from their inky black hair, almond-shaped eyes and golden skin. They were humorous and joked a lot, lightening the mood of the situation, and seemed to take special joy in teasing Quan Chan and Ryu who both looked sombre. Basho set down a large steaming bowl in front of Kiku first and then him. Ramen, the noodles obviously made from scratch, floated in the steaming broth along with vegetables and delicate fish. Yuzo closed his eyes and breathed in the scent. Perfection. The colour and consistency of the broth was perfect and had just the right amount of oil floating in small bubbles on its surface. Appreciation of well made ramen was one of the things Uncle Tokuma had taught him. He’d called the elderly man briefly after Koji and Ryu left the room earlier. Uncle Tokuma was overjoyed to hear from him and seemed to understand that Yuzo couldn’t speak of where he’d been, saying only that he’d been grateful to receive the notes letting him know his nephew was safe. As for seeing his uncle, he hadn’t been able to give the man a time when that would be possible. It might never be possible, but he hadn’t said that. When all the bowls were on the table and Basho had sat down on his other side, all the joking stopped and silence settled over them. Yuzo looked around. Everyone had closed their eyes. A moment passed and then Kiku said a few words of thanks and picked up his chopsticks.

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This ritual was certainly not something he’d ever done. He’d cooked all the time for Mojo and the guys and then for Suzuki, but they always just dug in, never thanked him the way everyone thanked Basho. Slowly he picked up his chopsticks and glanced to the side. Basho’s gaze met his shyly. “I hope you enjoy it,” he said softly. Yuzo smiled at him. “I’m sure I will.” He turned to the food and leaned slightly over the steaming bowl. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of it again, this time more deeply. As he’d expected, every nuance of the aroma was perfect—perfectly seasoned, perfectly balanced between the fish, vegetables, and noodles right down to the touch of shoyu tempering the broth. Positioning his fingers on the chopsticks, he pushed lightly down on the slice of fish floating in its own perfect place in the bowl, not intruding on the vegetables or tangling in the noodles below it. Basho was a true sensei. Only then did a strange feeling of being watched come over him. He looked up and froze. Everyone else had stopped eating and was staring at him, including Kiku who also appeared a touch amused. Yuzo felt his cheeks burn. Shimatta. He was blushing in front of everyone. “This is what you’re supposed to do first,” he said softly. “It’s the only way to truly appreciate this dish, especially when it’s prepared by a sensei.” He glanced again at Basho whose cheeks coloured. The man smiled shyly and bowed. “I appreciate you feel that way, Yuzo-san. But I’m not a great chef or anything.” “Yes you are,” Ryu interjected. “We tell you that all the time,” Mod added. A chorus of agreement rippled around the table. Yuzo heard Kiku chuckle next to him. The sound was deep and rich and rippled through him like perfect, clear water. “Looks like you’re going to have to believe us one of these days, Basho-chan,” Kiku said. Basho bowed again. His expression was still modest and he was still blushing, but Yuzo could also see the suppressed smile of someone who was wildly pleased. He looked at Yuzo. “Thank you.” The more jovial atmosphere resumed and eating was punctuated by more teasing and general commentary about situations with guests. Yuzo found himself relaxing. With the exception of his uncle’s lessons in appreciation, meals had always been tense for him most of

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his life, between being forced to sit at the table with his parents until he could escape and then later with Suzuki, it became nearly impossible to eat, his stomach was so tight and nauseous so often. The only time it had gotten better was with Mojo, but then, he’d wanted to fit in with Mojo and the others and so wolfed down his food, barely noticing it. That had sucked too. They’d sure loved it, though. At least it had seemed that way. None of those guys had ever eaten meals like he’d prepared for them, but they never mentioned it either. Being here at this table with Kiku and Ryu and the others, was a different world. “Hey, guess what guys?” Mod was grinning like a satisfied cat. Before anyone could answer he leaned closer to Ryu and put an arm across his shoulders. “Ryu is going to be my date for Hojo’s party this weekend. Aren’t you, Ryu?” Ryu froze, chopsticks in hand and looked at Mod. Mod put his cheek against Ryu’s shoulder. “Please, Ryu? Will you be my date?” Ryu’s cheeks reddened and a shy look infused his eyes, but he nodded. “Yes, of course.” Yuzo looked at Kiku. “Who’s Hojo?” Kiku set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth. “He and his partner own a bistro around the corner. They have a big party each year for their anniversary. They’re kind enough to hold it on a Sunday night when it’s quiet here and we can close down and be free to attend.” “Oh.” Yuzo’s thoughts flew ahead. The weekend. No doubt he wouldn’t be here. Who knew where he’d be a few days from now? Or what would happen to him? “Not fair.” Tatou spoke now above the other voices. “If you get Ryu, then I get Chan Chan.” Tatou, who had the same graceful good looks as his brother, turned to the quiet Quan Chan on his other side. “Would you be my date?” Quan Chan hesitated, his cheeks also blushing pink. For men who had sex all the time, they seemed quite modest. “Please?” The other man broke into a shy smile. “Yes.” “Oh good.” Tatou leaned over and kissed his cheek.

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Kiku suppressed a sigh. He understood exactly why the twins were making such a fuss publicly over Ryu and Quan Chan. The men here all looked out for each other and when one was licking his wounds, another one helped him. At least Yuzo didn’t understand the reasons for it. It would only fuel the guilt he was already feeling. He resisted the urge to caress Yuzo’s hair. The desire to comfort Yuzo was overwhelming. Of all the men who’d come here, Yuzo’s need for affection was the most poignant, even more so than Ryu’s. At least Ryu had had Kiku’s friendship most of his life and in spite of the rape, he’d had Kiku to turn to and live with and be protected by ever since. Unfortunately, where Yuzo was concerned, there wasn’t going to be time to make up for lost affection. Clearing his throat, he directed everyone’s attention to his place. “I’m sorry to have to change the subject,” he said softly. The other men’s expressions shifted and they grew quiet. Their comprehension filled the silence. “I assume all of you understand the situation with Yuzo.” They all nodded. “We do, Kiku-sensei,” Naoto said. “Good.” He sighed deeply and looked at Yuzo. “Without belabouring the point, we know you’ll be leaving at some point, but we want to do everything possible to help you.” Just as he hadn’t been able to open up to Yuzo about his feelings when he’d returned to the bedroom earlier, he didn’t tell Yuzo now that he’d spent most of the afternoon in his office wracking his brain for ways to keep him around. He’d even considered having Yuzo live in his mother’s place in Yokohama. True, it was twenty minutes away by car, but that way Kiku could visit him. However, he’d nixed that idea, realising that Yuzo would again be living like a prisoner in a tiny cage and he just couldn’t do that to him. Yuzo’s eyes misted over and he bowed. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You’ve all been so kind. I am so sorry.” “It’s all right, Yuzo-san.” This from Ryu. He looked down as soon as he’d spoken. Kiku felt a wave of affection for Ryu. Of all the people here, Yuzo’s presence would be most harrowing for him and Ryu had been the kindest to him. Of course Ryu felt torn. Even without Ryu’s unrequited love for Kiku, he was relieved that Yuzo would be leaving and taking away the danger he’d brought. But Kiku knew Ryu better than anyone else in the world. Ryu also felt bad for Yuzo and wanted to protect him.

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Yuzo looked at Ryu and Kiku saw the gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Do you ride a motorcycle, Yuzo-chan?” Kiku asked him. Yuzo’s eyes widened. “Do I?” He sighed and his expression fell. “I was a bosozoku for a long time before I ended up hosting.” “No shit,” Mod said. He was staring at Yuzo as if watching a fascinating film. Yuzo bowed his head. “No shit.” “Which gang?” Tatou asked. “The Red Devils.” Tatou grinned. “You wore that jumpsuit and everything?” Yuzo’s cheeks coloured. “Sometimes. I preferred leather jacket and jeans though.” “Wow! And you left them?” Yuzo nodded. The flush in his cheeks deepened under the intense interest of all the others. “Well, you know, once you’re like twenty, you’re getting kind of old for it. By that time, I’d already met Mojo in the Black Box,” he said, referring to the gay bath house popular with younger men. “He got me into hosting.” Yuzo seemed totally at ease opening his life to the men around him. In spite of the situation, Kiku suppressed a smile. Yuzo certainly had lived hard. Harder than most of the others here with the exception of himself. Much too hard for someone so young. And yet, he hadn’t become street-toughened. Truly a miracle, considering he’d ridden in a motorcycle gang among guys who no doubt had been recruited into the Suzuki crime family. Taro often relied on that gang for fresh blood. His heart squeezed a bit, understanding the motivation behind everything Yuzo did: his desperation to belong, somewhere. To someone. He touched Yuzo’s shoulder gently then pulled away. The small contact touched off a craving to pull Yuzo into his arms, something he’d have to get used to not doing. “Naoto has a motorcycle you can use.” “I already called Lecy this afternoon,” Naoto added. Lecy had been Lee’s mother and Naoto was still very close with her, having adopted her as his own. She lived in Shin Okubo, Little Asia where she and her family had owned the grocery store where Naoto had met Lee and lived with him until Lee’s death. “She said I could come and get the bike any time. I can have it here later tonight.” “That would be best,” Yuzo said. “I should leave tomorrow night, as soon as it’s dark.”

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Kiku whipped his gaze to the other man. His heart was suddenly pounding. “Are you sure of that? You might not be ready.” Yuzo lifted his face. His large eyes were sorrowful but also determined. “I don’t know if I’m ready, Kiku-chama. But I must.” A jolt of warmth shot through Kiku at the address, respect mixed with affection. Yuzo gestured to the others. “Especially now, after meeting you all and seeing how good and kind you are. I can’t endanger you another moment.” He looked up again at Kiku. “I’ve done enough damage already,” he said then turned to Ryu. “If I can just keep the things you lent me. I’ll get them back to you when I get somewhere safe. I promise.” A look of pain slipped through Ryu’s face. “Keep them,” he said softly. “I don’t need them back.” Yuzo bowed to him deeply then turned his eyes back up to Kiku. “You see what I mean?” Kiku gazed deeper at him, peering beneath the surface. Yuzo’s colour was restored. In less than a day, his eyes had a brightness to them that had been missing. And there was a core of iron Kiku sensed deep in the man’s being. Yes, he’d be ready. He’d survive. “I know a place you can go,” Naoto said. “A ryokan down the coast in Arida. My family used to stay there when I was a kid. I’ll give you directions and let them know to expect you. You’ll be safe there.” Yuzo bowed again. When he straightened, his face was a mask of misery. “Thank you, Naoto-san. But it’s probably best if you don’t know where I am. I shouldn’t tell you where I go. What if…he comes around asking you about me? I don’t want you to have to lie anymore than you already are.” “That’s our concern, Yuzo-chan.” Kiku still restrained his urge to touch Yuzo, especially in front of the others. Suzuki’s phone call earlier that day was another thing Kiku had decided to keep quiet. “I’ve been dealing with Suzuki a long time and it’s not your fault he’s…persistent.” “A fucking bastard is more like it,” Naoto muttered. Everyone looked at Naoto, probably surprised by his sudden harsh language. “Yes,” Ryu agreed softly. “A fucking bastard.” Kiku turned to Yuzo. “You see? No one blames you for this. If it weren’t you, it would be something else. Believe me, after twenty years, I know.”

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Yuzo nodded and looked down. He picked up his chopsticks, but his bowl was empty now. He set the chopsticks back down. “You don’t have to tell us you’re there.” Kiku said. “Just go to the place Naoto is speaking about and don’t mention it. You never actually told us where you’re going. Do you understand what I mean?” The other man lifted his large gaze and Kiku felt a jolt right down to his toes. He didn’t want to consider what this separation meant for his life force. For either of them. “Yes, Kiku-chama,” Yuzo said softly, “I understand.”

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Chapter Ten

After the meal, everyone helped clean up, including Yuzo who brought his bowl to the large sink and began loading the used plates and silver onto the dishwasher tray without being asked. Anyone who tried to discourage him, he begged off to let him help. Kiku swept the floor, looking up every few seconds to watch Yuzo. Even from behind, Yuzo was incredibly beautiful and graceful. The lean muscles of his back and arms flexed against the T-shirt Ryu had lent him and his hair moved with him as if blown by a breeze. Only then did Kiku realise he’d actually stopped sweeping and was leaning against the broom handle, watching Yuzo as he would watch a sunset or something else as captivating. Yuzo looked over his shoulder, apparently aware of the attention. Sweat gleamed on his face from the hot steam rising from the sink. His soft lips curved in a smile and a shy look slipped through his eyes before he turned back around. The look alone made Kiku’s dragon stir. He pulled his attention back to sweeping. This wasn’t good. He was behaving like a love-starved teenager. However, another few strokes of the broom and he looked up again, finding he’d moved closer to Yuzo and could now see him from the side. Against his will, his gaze dropped to Yuzo’s hands, shiny and slick with soapy water as he rinsed the items before putting them on the rack to go through the dishwasher. Yuzo worked quickly, his attention absorbed completely in his task. Strange for someone who probably never needed to lift a finger to do anything while he’d been with Suzuki. Yuzo had also obviously come from a wealthy home. Even without an uncle who was famous in the theatre, Yuzo’s refined bearing and mannerisms belied the rough life he’d led until now. Yet, he seemed perfectly comfortable doing a mundane task. When they were finished, Kiku began to think how he was going to tell Yuzo that they’d be sleeping apart tonight. It shouldn’t matter. They’d only had one night together, but considering what had happened this morning while making love and the strong, nearly irresistible pull he felt for the man, it would definitely be wiser not to get more attached than he was already.

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Yuzo turned off the water and dried his hands. Kiku saw him turn and spot Basho setting out fresh materials. A knife, a cutting board. There was already a selection of vegetables on the surface of the table. “Basho-san, are you cooking again?” Basho nodded. “Yes. I always make the morning’s soup the night before. That way, I only need to reheat it and add the miso before serving it to the guests.” “Oh.” Yuzo was watching him with the fascination of a child. “Do you mind if I watch? I could…um…help you, if you need help.” Basho smiled. “Of course.” He took out an extra knife and gestured to the vegetables. “Take your pick.” Kiku came up beside Yuzo. The man was like a magnet, drawing their bodies together. At least for the time being, his need to explain their sleeping situation was postponed. Now was a good opportunity to leave, go to his office, go anywhere except stay here in Yuzo’s company. But he couldn’t go, couldn’t pull himself away. He was standing close enough to feel the draw of Yuzo’s abundant yin. The sweetest nectar he’d ever experienced. “Mind if I stay here, too?” “Of course not, Kiku-sensei,” Basho said. Yuzo looked at him and smiled that shy smile again. “I’d like that,” he said softly then turned back to the task at hand. Kiku watched Yuzo pluck a turnip from the table. With quick, deft movements, he peeled away the outer layer of the purplish white skin, then set the pale vegetable on the cutting board. In moments, perfect little cubes covered the surface. “Wow.” Basho stopped his work and looked down, eyes wide. “Where did you learn to do that?” Yuzo grinned. “My uncle. The same one who taught me how to eat the ramen properly. Well, he didn’t teach me directly. He used to give parties all the time when I was growing up. He hired the best chefs to cater them and I used to sneak into the kitchen and watch them.” He gestured to the food on the table. “There’s something so artful about taking these raw things and making something delicious out of them.” He looked at Kiku, his smile fading. “I know it’s surprising that I’m into this. But I used to cook for Mojo and the others every day. There were seven of them plus me. I got to practice a lot. I also cooked for…him.” His gaze went from Kiku to Basho and his grin returned. “I have many talents,” he said. “I

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can sing and dance.” He moved back from the table suddenly and started swaying in a slow rhythm, arms extended. He moved to one side, then the other, chanting softly in an atonal nasal voice. Kiku recognised the style. Something from a kabuki or Noh play. When he was younger and had been trying to give himself culture, he’d gone to some performances. Maybe he’d even seen Yuzo’s uncle in one of them. It was hard to know considering the masks and heavy makeup that covered the performers’ faces. Basho too, watched, rapt as Yuzo’s voice carried through the kitchen. Yuzo’s body moved evenly, his torso and arms fluid as willow branches in a breeze, his rhythm precise and polished, as if he really were on stage. His voice was beautiful, smooth and resonant. Kiku stared, absolutely captured. There was nothing else in the entire world except Yuzo. The kitchen seemed to vanish. The rest of the world vanished. Like potent magic. After what seemed a long time Yuzo stopped, frozen in position. Then he looked up and grinned. “That was from Tamura.” Kiku laughed and started clapping. Soon the room filled with the sounds of other people cheering and clapping. Yuzo’s cheeks coloured and he looked around at his audience and smiled, appearing suddenly shy. “That was great, Yuzo-san,” Basho said. He was smiling, his face lighter than it had been since Kiku first met him.

Ryu stood by the door, hidden from the others, his heart still thumping from watching Yuzo sing and dance. He’d just gotten changed and cleaned up and had been on his way to the front door to wait for Mr. Hamura, one of the only guests he directly cared for, when the sound of Yuzo’s pretty voice wafting into the hallway had drawn his attention. Yuzo’s movements were so graceful. His voice was amazing. He was beautiful and lively and his face crackled with intelligence. Damn. Was there anything Yuzo couldn’t do? Ryu slipped out before anyone saw him and made his way to the front. No doubt Hamura-san would be here any moment. Kiku’s face haunted Ryu’s mind with each step he took. Kiku’s eyes as he gazed on Yuzo looked…dreamy. There was no other word to describe the expression that lit the man’s handsome face when he looked at Yuzo, which had been probably every few seconds all through supper.

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Ryu’s heart continued to thump. He needed to get a hold of his emotions and focus his attention on Mr. Hamura. The elderly man’s dark car had just pulled up to the curb and Hamura-san’s driver was assisting him out of the car and up to the door. The process was slow, as Hamura-san was very old and frail. He hadn’t been frail when Ryu first met him, but recently the man had gone through some problems with his family that had aged him considerably. Hamura-san had once been a wealthy businessman and was now long-retired. He lived in a luxury apartment somewhere near Ginza but had been coming here to the White Tiger several times a week for the last four years. Ryu watched Hamura-san come up the sidewalk. Still his thoughts stubbornly went to Kiku and Yuzo. How unfair was it that he’d loved Kiku faithfully most of his life and Kiku couldn’t fall in love with him the same way? Worse, here was Yuzo after only one day, stealing Kiku’s heart! It just didn’t make sense at all. And it hurt like hell. The elderly man reached the door. Ryu opened it for him and assisted him in, doing his best to smile and appear cheerful. His guest didn’t come here to be waited on by a sour face. Besides, old Mr. Hamura had come to be a friend. You didn’t massage someone intimately for four years two to three times a week and not develop a relationship with him. Ryu escorted Hamura-san into one of the massage rooms, helped him undress and change into a kimono, and made him tea. With quiet music piping into the room, the scent of incense lacing the air, and the attention the tea ritual required lifted his spirits somewhat. Once that was finished, he settled behind Mr. Hamura to massage his shoulders. Just as he lifted his hands, his emotions slammed in on him again. Tears stung his eyes. He blinked them back hard. Horrified, he closed his eyes and got quiet before beginning the massage. He felt safe with the elderly man, which was the only reason Kiku let Mr. Hamura be alone with Ryu. Kiku handpicked the guests that Ryu would wait on personally and so there were only two others aside from Hamura-san. In spite of his efforts, Ryu’s nerves prickled to the surface. He couldn’t help it. There was too much going on, between losing the love of his life to Yuzo and the possible consequences when Suzuki found out Kiku had known all along where Yuzo was—and Suzuki would find out. He was always suspicious of Kiku and wouldn’t let up until he knew for certain whether Yuzo had been here. It was inevitable.

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Before he could stop them, the tears rolled, fast and hot down his cheeks. He pulled in a deep breath, intending to stop the sobs from coming, but they burst out like water through a weak dam. The elderly man turned around, his eyes wide. “Oh? What’s this?” Ryu pulled back and bowed low, his face close to the mat. “I’m so sorry, Hamura-san. So sorry. Forgive me.” The man’s hands came up and he lightly touched his fingertips to Ryu’s jaw. “Don’t apologise, Ryu-kun.” He gazed at Ryu, his eyes watery and sympathetic. “Come here.” He lifted his hands away from Ryu’s face and held out his arms. Unable to stop himself, Ryu slumped forward and cried on the elderly man’s shoulder. Hamura-san said nothing but Ryu felt a gentle hand patting his back. “It’s all right, Ryu-kun,” the man crooned, as if to a child. “Just cry.” Ryu tried to stop, but he couldn’t. The elderly man’s kindness was giving him the permission he wouldn’t give himself, the way Kiku had done for him since he was a little boy. As an old man, Kiku would be like this man, handsome and gentle and kind. The way Kiku was now, but even more so. He had to think that Kiku would one day be an old man, that they’d get through this difficult time and that Suzuki would one day be gone, no longer there to haunt their lives. They’d all grow old together. “My dear young friend,” Hamura-san said softly. One shaky hand cradled Ryu’s head while the other caressed his back. He didn’t ask Ryu why he was crying or make him feel as if he had to explain, and soon enough, the sobs lost their force until they were spent. Ryu sat up, slowly disengaging himself from the elderly man’s embrace. Tears still filled his eyes and he felt the tracks they made on his cheeks. Mr. Hamura was gazing at him sympathetically. Without speaking, he reached up and brushed away Ryu’s tears with his thumbs. For a moment, Ryu thought he’d ask him what had made him cry, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Hamura-san was the most respectful person he’d ever met. The elderly man smiled at him. Ryu returned the smile and then bowed, grateful for the understanding. “I feel better now. Thank you.” “I’m glad, Ryu-kun. It makes me sad to see you cry.” Ryu gently guided him to turn and face forward again. It was time to begin his massage now that he felt capable of tending to his guest…no, his friend…without breaking down.

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Closing his eyes, Ryu grew calm. He let the gentle shamisen music in the background put him in the mindset of his work and lifted his hands once again to Hamura-san’s right shoulder. Gently he began kneading the thin muscle, frowning at how frail the man was becoming so rapidly. Mr. Hamura released a breath and leaned slightly forward, yielding easily to the pressure of Ryu’s hands. “Ryu-kun,” he said softly, “you bring sweetness to the last years of my life.” “Thank you, Hamura-san. I’m honoured.” The words deepened his sadness. He wished Hamura-san could live forever, or at least as long as he lived too. And he wished that one day, many, many years from now, Kiku would say something like that to him.

**** Yuzo followed Kiku up the back stairs. They’d passed most of the evening in the kitchen, helping Basho make preparations for the following morning. Now, as they drew closer to Kiku’s bedroom, Yuzo’s stomach fluttered in anticipation of going to bed with him and receiving more of this incredible man’s yang. Nothing had been better in the entire world and this morning had been the best one of his entire life. This whole day, in fact, had been the best day he’d ever had. Hopefully, Kiku wouldn’t be as reserved as this afternoon when he’d come back to the room. “You made Basho laugh,” Kiku said as they padded down the corridor. He stopped and turned to Yuzo, his hand on the frame of the screen that led into his room. Yuzo’s heart jumped. Standing in front of Kiku must be how it felt in centuries past to stand in front of a samurai warrior—thrilling and a bit frightening all at once. “Is that so unusual?” A smile touched Kiku’s lips briefly. “Yes, it’s unusual. Terrible things happened to him a long time ago and he’s had difficulty recovering. He’s very shy and reclusive. I try not to push him. He’ll come out when he’s ready but I believe you helped him.” Yuzo’s cheeks burned and he looked down, feeling suddenly, ridiculously shy. “You mean praising his cooking. I meant it. He’s incredible. I wasn’t just saying it to make him feel better.” “I didn’t think you were.” He slid the screen open and gestured to the room.

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Yuzo went in and stopped over by the bed. His heart beat raced and he watched Kiku, wanting the man to close the screen, come over to him and pull him into his arms. Instead, Kiku stood by the open door, his head bowed. There was a look in his eyes that Yuzo didn’t like, something that gave him the feeling Kiku was about to tell him something he didn’t want to hear. “Aren’t you coming in?” Yuzo couldn’t prevent the slightly higher pitch to his voice. “It’s late. You must be tired.” He gestured to the bed. “This is your bed.” Kiku’s broad chest heaved with a deep sigh. Here it came, the thing Yuzo didn’t want to hear. “I didn’t think it was a good idea.” “Why not?” Panic bubbled up from a place inside him he couldn’t see or name, but which made his heart pound, made cold prickles of energy skitter across his back. It was hideous, horrible, the worst feeling ever, made more horrible by its contrast to the absolute ecstasy he’d experienced this morning. For a little while, all the loneliness and angst had quieted down. He’d felt peaceful, cared for, and now it was being ripped away. Yes, true, he was leaving the next night, but why end the goodness before that? No, he didn’t want to know why. It had to be something he’d done wrong. He was always doing things wrong. “Don’t answer that,” he added quickly before Kiku could respond. When Kiku seemed to obey and remain quiet, Yuzo felt a wave of madness in his brain. Not knowing was as bad, or worse than knowing. He had to know now. “It was the singing and dancing, wasn’t it? I don’t know what came over me. Mojo used to tell me I was a show off and that I should shut up. He was right.” “You weren’t showing off, Yuzo-chan. You were wonderful. It isn’t that.” “It had to be. I was loud. I drew everyone’s attention. But I can be quiet. Quieter than a mouse. You won’t even know I’m here. I can even—” “Stop, Yuzo-chan. Don’t demean yourself this way. You don’t need to beg.” “Yes, I do. You’re standing over there instead of in here.” Kiku’s face darkened. “Hush now. There are people trying to sleep up here.” Yuzo looked down. His cheeks burned. Mojo and Suzuki were both right about him. He was loud, chattery, a show off and a useless turd. But all that criticism couldn’t stop the wave of need he felt right now. He’d improve himself, make a new Yuzo, a quieter more useful Yuzo. If he could have just one more night with Kiku, he’d work even harder at changing.

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“Then what is it?” he pressed, keeping his voice closer to a whisper. “This is your room. You should be in here.” With me. Kiku sighed again. “The reason we’re having this conversation is why I can’t stay in here with you. You’re leaving tomorrow and I…” Kiku fell silent and Yuzo felt he would just burst waiting for him to speak again. “You what?” Kiku was making it sound as if it weren’t about something Yuzo had done, but Yuzo didn’t believe it. A man like Kiku could have anyone he wanted. He could pick and choose lovers like picking and choosing an outfit or what to eat. It had to be about something he’d done wrong. “We just met. It’ll be difficult enough when you go.”

Kiku watched emotions pass over Yuzo’s beautiful face. He hated doing this to Yuzo. The man’s need was strong. He was begging for love. Kiku was being selfish, horribly so in this moment, but how could he help it? He wanted to crawl up inside Yuzo now and stay there forever. If he felt like this after only one day, how would he feel tomorrow after another night of loving him and absorbing his incredible yin dew? He was handling this situation like shit, but really, this had never happened to him before. He’d always acted the role of strong leader, sure of himself, never tied down to one man. Never before had he felt the edges of his soul unravel, especially when the thread was in someone else’s hand. Not even with Suzuki tearing at him all the time. “I don’t feel like we just met, Kiku-chama.” Yuzo squared his shoulders. “I feel like we found each other. Maybe we don’t remember all the details about each other. We’d have to learn them again, but I don’t feel like I just met you.” The words stunned him into silence, probably because Yuzo had captured exactly what he felt as well. He didn’t trust himself to respond, however, and didn’t want to say anything cruel, should he speak carelessly. Yuzo had been hurt enough. Yuzo was being hurt right now. “I’m sorry, Yuzo-chan. I feel lost right now. Please, get some rest.” He stepped out, slid the soji screen closed, then stood quietly in the hallway, waiting to see what Yuzo would do. The room remained dark, as they hadn’t put the light on yet when they’d come upstairs. The sounds behind the rice paper screen were muffled but Kiku thought he could hear Yuzo sniffle, followed by the rustle of clothing being taken off and the soft whoosh of the bed covers being lifted and moved. Then, silence.

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An impulse seized him to go back in but he resisted with all his strength. This craving for Yuzo’s body against his, to bury his dragon deep inside the other man had to be nothing but lust at this point. One night of exchanging energies did not constitute what he wanted to believe it was, not when years and years of lovemaking and intimacy with Ryu and Chan Chan had led to dark visions that pushed him away. His mind and heart swirled, roiled with confusion. Finally, he turned and went to the end of the hall where the spare bedroom was. Quan Chan was staying in there now. Kiku rapped lightly on the door. “Yes?” “It’s me. May I come in?” “Of course.” Chan Chan was sitting up in bed, the covers to his waist. Kiku felt a spike of guilt. He had no right to come in here but he couldn’t stay in his room either. “May I…stay in here with you?” Chan Chan’s eyes widened slightly. His expression remained even, though Kiku sensed his combination of hope and tentativeness. “Of course.” He pulled back the covers and moved over. Kiku approached the bed and was relieved to see that his friend wore a pair of shorts. He pulled off his shirt, leaving his baggy pants on and lay down. “How are you?” he asked. After all, every time he’d seen Quan Chan today, he’d been obviously hurting and trying politely to hide it. The other man chuckled. “I got asked on a date by a gorgeous younger man. How bad could I be?” Kiku sighed. He understood the answer, meant to ease his conscience. “You’re a good friend,” he murmured. “So are you.” Quan Chan pulled the covers over both of them and slid down, lying on his back. Kiku noticed that he kept a respectful distance. He seemed to understand the situation. Well, he would. He was one of the most sensitive and kind hearted people Kiku had ever met, a result perhaps of practicing the White Tiger path since the age of fourteen. There was a good reason most of the regular guests who came here requested Quan Chan. No one gave better massages than he.

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“Are you all right?” Chan Chan asked after a few moments of quiet. “Did something happen?” Kiku sighed and stared up into the darkness. “Yes. Something happened.” Quan Chan was silent again. He rarely spoke without considering his words carefully first. Part of it was cautionary, a survival tool he’d gained from growing up in the streets of Shanghai, and part of it was his considerate nature. “Visions again?” Kiku turned his head on the pillow and looked at Chan Chan in the darkness. “No. No visions. None at all.” “That’s bad?” His friend sounded genuinely puzzled. “Chan Chan, you don’t have to discuss this with me, you know.” “I know.” He paused. “No visions. That’s good.” “Not in this situation. He’s leaving tomorrow night.” Chan Chan sighed. “I know.” Kiku stared at him. “You’re not relieved?” The other man reached out and touched his shoulder, a gesture that conveyed great care. “Not really.” He pulled his hand away and turned on his back. Kiku smiled. “You’re an even better friend than I thought.” The man who ended up with Quan Chan for a lover would be fortunate, indeed. Chan Chan’s head turned on the pillow. “Thanks, Kiku,” he said softly. “Try to rest now.” Then he was quiet. But sleep wouldn’t come. As the hours passed, the conversation with Yuzo ran in Kiku’s mind like a tape being played and rewound, over and over. If that weren’t enough, Kiku’s senses ached for the scent of Yuzo’s skin, the tiny moans he made, the taste of his lips, and the way Yuzo’s tight channel squeezed his dragon, like a custom made glove. “You’re still here?” Chan Chan’s voice sounded tired but wide awake. Kiku turned. “Did I wake you?” The other man levered up onto his elbow. “I haven’t been to sleep yet. Your qi is bouncing off the walls. It’s like having someone shake a tin can full of coins by my ear.” “I’m sorry, friend.” He sighed. “I can’t sleep.” Quan Chan laid a gentle hand briefly on his arm. “Kiku, you shouldn’t be in here when you want to be in there. Your heart can’t be wrong.”

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Kiku stared at him. Chan Chan rarely spoke like this to him or to anyone. When he did, however, it was wise to listen. He leaned over and kissed his friend’s cheek. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Rising from the bed, he retrieved his shirt from the floor and left. At his own door, he slid it open, his heartbeat rising. The streetlights filtering through the blinds showed Yuzo in the centre of the bed. He’d kicked the covers off and his slender body, naked except for a pair of the new underwear Ryu had gotten for him, was sprawled across the futon. Yuzo’s breath rose and fell with a sweet sound. Kiku dropped his shirt on a chair and approached the bed. He knelt down and reached out, passing a hand over Yuzo’s hair. Yuzo pulled in a breath and opened his eyes. He sat up quickly and scooted back. “What? No!” “It’s me, Yuzo-chan. Kiku.” There was just enough light from the outside to see Yuzo’s long eyelashes move as he blinked. “Oh. Kiku-chama.” He let out a relieved-sounding breath. “I thought you were…him.” “No, little one. You’re safe.” Yuzo pulled in another breath. Kiku saw him look towards the window as if trying to discern the time of day or night without a clock. He seemed disoriented. “It’s the middle of the night,” Kiku said. “I couldn’t sleep.” Yuzo looked at him. He leaned forward tentatively. “You came back.” “Yes.” He dared to lean in closer, drawn immediately by Yuzo’s life force. The scent of Yuzo’s skin and hair was like a drug. “Yuzo-chan,” he whispered, reaching out to brush a hand over the other man’s shoulder, “you…were right.” “I was?” “Those things you said to me before I walked out. You were right. I was wrong. Whatever time we have together is what matters.” He caressed Yuzo’s hair again. “Do you still want me here?” Yuzo made soft noise of surprise. “Of course.” He moved over immediately, drawing the bed covers aside in a clear invitation. A ripple of heat moved through Kiku’s body. Wordlessly, he rose up, stripped off his pants and slid into the bed.

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Chapter Eleven

“I can’t believe you came back,” Yuzo said. “I’m so glad.” The sound of his voice was filled with disbelief, desire. Joy. The sweet welcome made Kiku feel worse. How could he have left the way he had, with Yuzo begging for love? How could he have let his confusion keep him from someone who needed affection so badly? He pulled the covers over them while every nerve ending in his body tingled to life and his heart pounded. “I shouldn’t have left,” he said softly, settling gently on top of the other man. “I’m sorry.” Yuzo’s slim, luscious body gratefully accepted Kiku’s brawn on top of him, sinking him down into the futon. The man’s emotions radiated all around him and his clean scent, diffused by their combined body heat made Kiku feel immediately as if he’d drunk a glass of saké. He smoothed back Yuzo’s hair, restraining himself from rubbing his dragon against Yuzo’s. “It’s all right, Kiku-chama,” Yuzo said, his breath a warm tickle against Kiku’s chin. “I can be hard to take sometimes.” Yuzo’s small hands pressed into his back. Though Yuzo didn’t press hard, Kiku sensed the clutch in his hold, the nervous pulsing of his fingertips against the muscles. “Yuzo-chan, you’re not—” “It’s my bad blood. I can’t help it. Like a curse. It runs in my family.” Yuzo’s voice took on that slightly manic tone Kiku recognised from the night before. “My grandfather had a daughter with his mistress back in the late 1950s. The daughter, Mieko, is my mother. When she grew up, she turned out to be so beautiful that my grandfather publicly claimed her as his daughter. He gave her his name and married her off to one of his business associates, to make some kind of merger or something. She was always so unhappy. I don’t think she really wanted me. Having me only tied her more to the man who’d basically bought her.” Kiku’s heart squeezed. “But none of that has anything to do with you, little one.” “Yes, it does. I was supposed to be normal and make them look good, but I couldn’t do it. Ever. I tried, Kiku-chama. I tried so hard but I’m defective.” He babbled on a bit more as

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his hands chafed over Kiku’s back, something about being twelve and kissing the boy next door and being dragged away to his room, spanked and forbidden to see his friend. With his heart aching, Kiku brushed a kiss over Yuzo’s lips. That one brief touch was like an infusion of nectar. All of Yuzo’s gifts, his physical beauty, intelligence and grace, hadn’t prevented him from having a shitty life, worse than almost anyone’s, including his own. The understanding only made him feel worse about having walked out. “Yuzo-chan, you’re beautiful and sweet and good-hearted.” Of course, he hadn’t known Yuzo long enough for Yuzo to believe what he was saying, but a bad person could not have such an abundance of sweet yin within him. “Believe me. Not them.” One of Yuzo’s hands slipped up to the back of his neck and cupped it. “You’re the one who’s good, Kiku-chama. I saw it the first time Taro brought me here. You were so handsome and charming. You seemed strong and peaceful. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that. I’d never met anyone like you in my whole life.” Kiku froze and looked down into Yuzo’s face. Even though it was dark, he could feel Yuzo’s emotions radiating between them. Yuzo was in love with him. During Yuzo’s visits here with Suzuki, he’d seen the longing glances Yuzo gave him when Suzuki’s back was turned, but he’d thought them only the looks of a man in a hateful, desperate situation and so had dismissed them. After all, what could he possibly have done to help Yuzo then? Now the understanding flooded in with heart-aching reality. Yuzo had held onto the love like a precious seed and nurtured it until it blossomed into something alive enough to give him hope of escape. For Yuzo, Kiku had been a burning light of hope, a safe harbour. “You don’t have to feel the same way I do, Kiku-chama. But let me pretend, okay? Just for one night. This has been my greatest fantasy, being here with you.” Before Kiku could answer, Yuzo lifted his head and pressed their lips together. A sigh escaped him, a breathy sound full of sheer appreciation. His fingertips caressed the back of Kiku’s neck and his other hand still clutched at Kiku’s back. Yuzo pulled away slightly and rained soft kisses across Kiku’s lips. Each kiss sent Yuzo’s sweet yin into him, as if it were a vapour that could soak into his skin. This was what Kiku had feared—feeling this way, surrounded and comforted by Yuzo’s life force, then having to give it up. Who knew if he’d ever see Yuzo again after tomorrow? The younger man would probably spend the rest of his life running from the last

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few months. All Yuzo wanted right now was this, to have Kiku on top of him, holding him in his arms. It shouldn’t have been a lot to ask. But it was. Yuzo’s thigh slid against Kiku’s hip. Kiku suppressed a groan. Nothing was sexier than the feel of a man’s legs hooked around his hips, the ultimate act of surrender and trust. Sadly, last night when Chan Chan had done it, the shower of images like spikes had wounded him. Now, with the sole of Yuzo’s foot pressed into his ass cheek, there was nothing but sheer pleasure, the delightful press of skin against skin. In one breath, Kiku surrendered. One hand slipped into Yuzo’s hair, cradling the back of his head so he could fully accept the kisses Yuzo was giving him, each one like a sweet touch of velvet. Kiku’s mind melted into a haze as their tongues slid together. His own life had long ago been given up in service. Maybe now, at least, without the visions, life was giving him this gift in return, however fraught with its own troubles. Just for a little while he could absorb Yuzo’s yin, and enjoy the sweetness. He swirled his tongue around Yuzo’s. More delicious yin nectar infused him, laced with Yuzo’s natural flavour. Kiku lifted his mouth from their kiss, eager to taste Yuzo’s skin, to lick up its salty-sweet perfection. He nuzzled Yuzo’s jaw, marking the beginning of his trail there. He intended to taste every inch of this man. “Kiku-chama,” Yuzo whispered. His hands slid up and down Kiku’s back and his slim body undulated as much as it could, trapped as he was between the futon and the heated press of their bare torsos. “I used to imagine we did everything in that brochure. I went through each exercise together with you in my mind.” Kiku paused, his lips on Yuzo’s collarbone. He brushed a kiss over that spot then shifted upward, looking down at Yuzo. “I’m honoured, Yuzo-chan.” Yuzo’s fingertips skimmed up his back, over his shoulder and then across his cheek. “So am I,” he breathed. The next shift of his willowy body made their dragons rub together, both hard, and wanting. Kiku’s eyelids shuttered. The tiniest movement Yuzo made was like a gift from the goddess Kwan Yin herself and made Kiku want to shower Yuzo with his gratitude. “What was your favourite position, Yuzo-chan?” he whispered, suddenly inspired. He followed the question with a brief but hot kiss over Yuzo’s parted lips. “They’re all amazing, Kiku-chama, but I liked the Two-Headed Dragon best because we were both giving to each other at the same time.”

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The Two-Headed Dragon. Just hearing the words on Yuzo’s lips made Kiku’s vision blur. “Would you like that now?” He rose up, braced his weight on his elbows and gave a teasing rub of his hips. The thin material of Yuzo’s underwear separated their stalks from rubbing directly against each other, but not from sending a jolt of heat straight through Kiku’s whole body. “Ohhh!” Yuzo tilted his head back and tried to arch his pelvis, but his body was trapped under Kiku’s, causing another hard rub of cock against cock. Yuzo’s hands flew to Kiku’s hips and gripped them. His fingertips pressed into Kiku’s ass. Kiku groaned and claimed Yuzo’s lips again. He’d give Yuzo the Two-Headed Dragon and more providing he didn’t lose it completely in the next few seconds. All the vitality that had been draining from him these past months resurged again, hotter and fuller than even this morning. Again Kiku swirled his tongue in a hot moist dance with Yuzo’s. The man was naturally the most amazing kisser, giving and sensuous, moving his lips and tongue artfully, not too eager and not too stingy. The drunken feeling of moments ago intensified from the kisses alone and Kiku wasn’t sure he could pull away. But then he imagined him and Yuzo, naked bodies locked together in the Two–Headed Dragon, their heads bobbing simultaneously over each other’s jade stalk. The resulting surge of heat gave him the force he needed to pull from their kiss and drag a trail of more moist licks down Yuzo’s throat, towards his ultimate destination. “Oh, Kiku-chama.” Yuzo whispered his name over and over. His hands had stopped clutching and caressing as his body melted and quieted under the heated trail of kisses, and his palms now slid along Kiku’s body up towards his head as Kiku moved lower. Kiku closed his eyes and savoured the warm smooth skin under his lips and tongue. He loved the texture and flavour of Yuzo’s nipples, delighted in the way they tightened the second he teased them with a flick of his tongue. Yuzo’s chest heaved and he arched his back as if to push his flesh deeper into Kiku’s mouth. Mmm. Kiku slid the tip of his tongue down the centre furrow between Yuzo’s abdominals, stopping an extra few seconds to trace his belly button. Even that little indentation was perfectly formed. And very sensitive. “Oh, oh, oh!” Each round of Kiku’s tongue pulled another cry of delight from the man underneath his hands and mouth. Yuzo was so appreciative, so responsive, that Kiku

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couldn’t resist lingering there, teasing and licking the entire area around Yuzo’s navel. Each thrust of his tongue brought Yuzo’s hips bucking upward, and Kiku couldn’t help smoothing his palm over Yuzo’s dragon which strained against his underwear. Like a man lingering over the appetizer before the main course, he ran the tip of his tongue down the little trail of hair, stopping at the waistband of Yuzo’s underwear. At Yuzo’s gasp, he lifted his head. Yuzo was watching him, lips parted, his eyes feverish. Kiku grinned at him and trailed several fingertips over the rock-hard bulge pushing out of the material. Slowly, torturously, he traced the outline of Yuzo’s jade stalk. The material was so thin Kiku could feel the tiny veins in the shaft. The pad of his index finger distinguished the outline of the head, even the tiny opening through which a dragon’s tear had seeped, leaving a damp spot. “Kiku-chama! You’re driving me mad.” Yuzo’s panting breaths filled the moonlit darkness. He lifted his hips and Kiku took that chance to slip his fingers under the waistband and slide Yuzo’s underwear down, bringing them all the way to his ankles in one long pull. Yuzo worked them off the rest of the way with his feet. “Kiku-chama,” he breathed, “When will we do it?” Kiku pressed a kiss onto Yuzo’s stomach. “Very soon, little one.” He slid the palm of his hand up the shaft of Yuzo’s dragon. The velvety skin glided against his touch and the contact pulled more desperate whimpers from Yuzo. Yuzo’s musky scent pervaded the air. More invisible vapours seeped inside Kiku. His mouth began to water and he gently closed his fingers around Yuzo’s stalk, simultaneously leaning closer and taking the head into his mouth. “Ohhhh!” Yuzo’s need spiralled through his harsh whisper. His hips thrust upward, desperately driving himself deeper, causing him to slide along Kiku’s tongue. Damn. He was so delicious, velvety soft and hard all at once. Another dragon’s tear seeped from the tip. Salty-sweet and incredible, the yin dew Kiku had been craving for so long without even realising it. How Yuzo had attained such perfect balance without rigorous training, Kiku didn’t begin to know. However, now was a time simply to appreciate, to savour, not to question. Yuzo’s dragon fit so perfectly in his mouth, just the right size to suck and tease with his tongue all at once. Caressing Yuzo’s hip with one hand, Kiku pulled back and plunged down again, using the amount of suction he needed to make Yuzo whimper some more. He slid his hand from

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the other man’s hip to his yang sac and kneaded it in a soft rhythm against the slide of his lips and tongue. Kiku had always loved playing the jade flute, since the first time he’d ever done it so many years ago. But this one was especially sweet, sending a flow of yin energy cascading into his body with each slide, each lick of his tongue across the silky skin. “Kiku-chama, now, please!” Yuzo’s plea pulled him back a bit from his complete absorption, made him remember the Two–Headed Dragon. If Yuzo hadn’t been so incredibly delicious, so utterly luscious, he might not have forgotten. Kiku pulled back long enough to manoeuvre his hips around and straddle Yuzo’s face. He lowered himself carefully down so as not to crush the other man under his weight but gasped when the moist heat of Yuzo’s mouth enveloped his dragon. Kiku squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily frozen, his hands resting on Yuzo’s hips. Yuzo sucked in his entire stalk hungrily. The velvety friction scattered Kiku’s thoughts and all he could do was remained poised over the other man, surrendered to the fevered yet artful tug of Yuzo’s lips up and down his dragon. In moments his paced slowed from zealous devouring to a more even rhythm. The hot energy cooled a bit and Kiku was able to put his attention back onto the position. Yuzo’s dragon tasted just as delicious as moments ago. Only now, with the tug of the other man’s mouth up and down his stalk, the energy flowed from the point of contact with Yuzo’s tongue and lips and swirled into his yang sac and upward. The yin rain poured through Kiku’s body, tingling in all the energy points, straight into his own mouth. Carefully he tightened his lips and glided the length of Yuzo’s dragon, swallowing him all the way in. He made several quick soft bobs of his head and felt the yang he gave flow back into Yuzo. A continuous hum of energy passed through them, given back and forth, over and over until Kiku felt as if his body were floating off the mattress, taking Yuzo with him. I love you, Yuzo-chan. The words floated through Kiku’s mind. They took on a force of their own, fuelled by the vapours of the energy flowing between his and Yuzo’s bodies. No! Kiku’s body tensed. He still pleasured Yuzo’s dragon, but the sweet flow of yin and yang ebbed, lost in Kiku’s sudden struggle. Life always took away from him the men he loved. First it had been Ryu. He’d loved holding Ryu, making love to him. Ryu was open and appreciative too and so devoted. The perfect partner. Except for the visions. Next had been

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Quan Chan and the visions had stolen him away as well. With Yuzo, it was Suzuki. Always something. If Yuzo had noticed the change in Kiku, he didn’t say anything. His mouth still moved in its perfect rhythm along Kiku’s dragon and the vibration of his pleasure noises hummed along its shaft. Several more strokes and Kiku felt the build-up of Yuzo’s dragon cloud, preparing to erupt. There was no sense in ruining Yuzo’s enjoyment. If Yuzo’s fantasies about him had kept him alive, Kiku wasn’t going to tear this bit of enjoyment away from him. He tightened his lips just enough to pull the nectar up. Yuzo groaned. His hips arched and remained that way as his dragon emptied its yang cloud. Kiku let the milky eruption slide down his throat. The sweet-salty nectar filled him like water soaking into parched earth. The delicious life force melted his own tension and allowed his yang force to release. The eruption felt thunderous and instinctively he pulled back, but Yuzo clutched his ass and held him steady with surprising strength. I’m not letting you go the grip of Yuzo’s fingers seemed to say. Yuzo’s mouth tightened around his dragon as he swallowed, each tug like a caress on Kiku’s dragon as the other man gulped down his yang force. When there was nothing left to drink, Kiku let Yuzo’s dragon slip from his mouth and remained braced over him, panting. He felt Yuzo release his stalk too, but Yuzo’s hands remained on him caressing his hips then the sides of his thighs in even circles. Yuzo’s touch was worshipful, grateful, comforting. He was a true wonder. “Thank you, Kiku-chama,” he whispered. Kiku lifted away from him and then lay down beside him, fitting their bodies snugly together. The scent of sex and musk laced the air, mingled with the incense he burned regularly in the room. “You’re welcome, little one.” He nuzzled the damp skin of Yuzo’s neck and draped an arm protectively over him. Though his heart was pounding, he wasn’t going to let the rest of this night slip away unenjoyed. Life was too precious to waste moments like these. Especially now. And he’d already wasted too many. Yuzo heaved a sigh and Kiku felt the other man’s willowy body relax into his. Kiku’s heartbeat calmed enough to relax and he lay quietly, breathing in the scent of Yuzo’s skin and hair. What a simple joy it was just to curl up against someone with no images, no impressions except that of bare skin and sinewy muscle against his.

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When Kiku opened his eyes next, morning light filtered in. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. As the seconds passed, he also grew aware of what the end of the day would bring. He sighed. For now though, Yuzo was still pressed against him. The smaller man must have been awake for when Kiku took that deep breath, Yuzo rolled over and lifted his face. Sadness flitted through his eyes. One hand came to rest on Kiku’s chest, his fingers splayed across part of the tiger inked there. “Our time isn’t over just yet, Kiku-chama,” he said as if having decided in advance not to let Kiku speak first. “I want to know all about you. Is that okay?” Kiku studied Yuzo’s face, let his gaze trace the refined contours of Yuzo’s features. The man was easily beautiful enough to grace the pages of any fashion magazine. Reaching up, he caressed Yuzo’s tousled hair back, watching the shaggy layers of it fall delicately back into place after each stroke. “Of course it’s okay. Ask whatever you want. I have no secrets.” That was the truth. When it came to the men in his care, he held nothing back. Not that he was above lying. He lied to Suzuki all the time. He’d always lied to cops and still would if he needed to. But to these men who trusted him and looked up to him, he would not lie. Yuzo’s gaze dropped to Kiku’s chest. He passed one hand across the muscles, his fingertips lightly tracing the outline of the tiger’s head. “How did you become one of them?” He sounded genuinely puzzled and Kiku remembered an earlier remark he’d made, one similar to Ryu’s long ago about how Kiku was never really a yak, not in his heart. Kiku took a moment and pulled in a deep breath. The answer to this one was not at all simple and it was still painful. “When I was a kid, I started having second sight.” “You mean you were psychic?” He nodded. “Yes. But I thought everyone could see what I saw. To me, it was normal to look at another human being and get…visions about them.” Gently he pulled Yuzo against him so that the man’s slim body nestled in the crook of his arm, one cheek against his chest while he continued to stroke Yuzo’s hair. He intended to enjoy every moment of vision-free human contact that he could. “I soon found out that I was the only one.” “That’s sad.” Kiku paused and laced the fingers of his hand into the shagginess of Yuzo’s hair, one of the most delightful sensations he’d ever had against the pads of his fingertips. “Yes. Tragic, I was to learn. There’s something to be said for not knowing the secrets of everyone around you. If I came across a man who’d killed someone, I would see it. If someone had abused a

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child or stolen, a vision would rise and show me their crime. No matter what it was, I’d see it. Whether I touched the person or not, all I had to do was to be somewhere near them and the vision came.” Yuzo sat up suddenly, his weight braced on one elbow. “Do you have visions with me?” His eyes were wide. “I would hate to think I was distressing you that way. I mean, I never killed anyone, but still.” Kiku shook his head. “No. I don’t see anything when I touch you. Except for you, that is.” He cupped Yuzo’s cheek as his heartache deepened. “You’re the only one this has happened with. It’s been…heaven with you, Yuzo-chan, not getting visions when I touch you.” Yuzo’s eyes misted suddenly. “I’m glad. It must be…horrible.” “It is. When I was ten, I started to see images of a woman whenever I was around my father. She wasn’t my mother, but I’d see him hugging and kissing this woman. Hugging and kissing and more. One night at the dinner table I asked my father who she was. I had no idea what it really was I was asking. Just a child’s curiosity, I suppose.” Kiku would never forget that scene as long as he lived. His father had frozen, chopsticks in mid-lift to his mouth. He’d set them down. ‘What woman?’ he’d asked. Kiku had noticed his mother going still. “The woman you hug and kiss and rub against,” he’d answered. Kiku relayed the scenario to Yuzo, adding how his mother had begun to cry. Yuzo’s expression was pained and sympathy radiated from his eyes. “What happened next?” he asked softly. “My father ordered me away from the table to my room. I heard them arguing then, my mother crying. I hid in my room until things quieted down but when I came out, I found her suitcase by the front door. She came from an immigrant family from Shanghai who lived in Chinatown in Yokohama. So she moved back to her parents’ place in Chinatown and insisted I go with her.” All these years later the pain was still fresh. The pain and the guilt of having destroyed his parents’ marriage. “That’s when I understood I was alone. My mother hadn’t seen such images of my father with his mistress. Only I had.” He sighed. This was the first time in many years he’d spoken of that moment. “If I’d kept my mouth shut, they’d probably never have parted.” He felt a gentle hand on his cheek and looked at Yuzo.

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“You were a child, Kiku-chama,” Yuzo said. “You couldn’t have known. And even so, the truth might have come out later. Your mother might have caught them, or something. It’s not your fault.” Kiku covered Yuzo’s hand and held it, bringing their joined hands to rest on the mattress between them. “I understand that in my head,” he answered. “But even after thirty years, it’s not quite reached my heart.” Yuzo lifted Kiku’s hand and kissed it. “Is that why you became a yak?” He sighed, touched by the sweet gesture, yet still pained by his memories. “Basically. This…ability…of mine was destroying my life. It had ripped apart my family and made basic human contact into a torturous experience. I wanted to get rid of it. If I could have ripped it out of my soul I would have, but it was impossible. I couldn’t have faith in anyone’s goodness because even the kindest people had terrible secrets. So, I thought that if I immersed myself in the company of bad people, then at least I wouldn’t have to feel guilty or disheartened about knowing their secrets, about seeing the disgusting, dishonourable things they did to themselves and to each other. They were scum, after all, is what I thought. And so, that’s who I hung around with.” He rubbed Yuzo’s hand with his thumb. “But, unfortunately, keeping company with bad people led me into living the same kind of lives they did. By the time I was eleven I’d begun running errands for the local gangs. Later, when I was sixteen, I came here to Tokyo, got in with the Suzuki-gumi and worked my way up. I didn’t want to threaten or kill people or traffic women so I started with the gambling parlour. When I saw how much money could be made, I threw myself into it with the intention of making enough to retire young and not have to be around anyone, good or bad.” Yuzo sighed and stroked Kiku’s chest, his touch conveying great sympathy. “That’s obviously not what happened.” “No. It’s not. Not after I met Ryu. I was a wakashu under his father. So was Suzuki at the time. I saw then the way Suzuki used to look at Ryu.” He scowled. “Like a piece of meat.” Kiku shook away the memory of Suzuki’s lustful expression and continued. “Ryu’s father, Naboru had been a tough kid, a champion prize fighter and didn’t seem to understand the need to provide a bodyguard for his son, so I kind of appointed myself. I just felt naturally protective of him. He didn’t seem to have anyone to turn to. I remembered what that felt like when I was his age. I didn’t want it to happen to him.” Kiku paused and

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comforted himself by toying lightly with Yuzo’s hair. “Even with me around, Suzuki managed to get to Ryu.” Kiku’s body clenched. That moment of walking in and finding Suzuki on top of Ryu, with Suzuki’s goon holding Ryu’s arms above his head while Ryu struggled against them, would forever be etched in his soul. “Ryu left home after that and moved in with me. His father agreed because he trusted me and because Ryu told him my place was closer to the gym and that he wanted to train in boxing.” “Ryu’s father doesn’t know about what happened?” Kiku sighed again. “No. Ryu begged me not to tell him because he was positive his father would only blame him and punish him.” Yuzo’s hand stilled on Kiku’s chest. “Damn, that’s horrible. Poor Ryu.” “Shortly after that, Ryu started getting his tattoos. He wanted to prove he could be strong and tough. I freaked out. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t stop. Nothing I could say would help and I knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed and went to work for his father. In his mind, it would have been his only way to reconcile what had happened to him. Then I realised something else. I was the one person he looked up to. If I was a yak, what was to stop him from becoming one too? I couldn’t bear it. I had to find a way to stop him, but it meant leaving the organisation. Only that statement would be strong enough to make him understand he didn’t have to go that way.” Kiku fell silent a moment. It had worked. Shortly after he’d left, cut off part of his finger for Suzuki and closed down the pachinko parlour, Ryu had stopped getting his tattoos. He’d settled down into training and had helped Kiku with the transformation of this place from illegal gambling parlour to ryokan. Ryu even began to smile sometimes. He hadn’t been happy about sharing Kiku with the other men whom Kiku had brought here to work and live, but Ryu had eventually befriended them all and now trusted them with his life, especially Naoto whom Ryu looked to for protection. “By that time I’d already discovered the White Tiger temple in Shanghai,” he went on. “That’s where I met Quan Chan. And that’s when I got the idea to convert this place into what it is now. I brought Quan Chan here to help me get it started. Little by little I changed it over, got rid of the vermin and the pachinko parlour.” Kiku remembered gathering all the plastic gambling balls into a garbage bag and crushing them in the dumpster out back. The act had been thrilling and frightening all at once. After all, a ryokan did not hold the promise

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of money the way running a gambling racket had. What if he failed? How would he have taken care of Ryu? He ruffled Yuzo’s hair. “That’s my story, Yuzo-chan.” Yuzo levered up onto his elbow again. Many emotions passed across his pretty face. He picked up Kiku’s hand and gently touched the healed over joint of the pinkie he’d cut. “That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard.” Awe saturated his voice. “You’re amazing!” Kiku smiled but he knew the expression was wry. “Not amazing, little one,” he said softly. “Desperate.” The way Yuzo had felt about his own daring escape from Suzuki. Yuzo frowned. “That’s not fair to you, Kiku-chama. I don’t know anyone who would change his whole life like that for another person, just to help them. It worked too. Ryu is incredible. I hope I can be as wonderful a person some day as he is.” Kiku tugged Yuzo down onto him again. “Ryu is an amazing young man. If I had anything to do with it I’m glad.” Yuzo caressed Kiku’s chest again. “Thank you for telling me all that,” he murmured against his skin. “You’re most welcome.” He fell silent and enjoyed the simple act of holding Yuzo, of touching his hair. It had been longer than he could remember since he’d done something like this, just lie with someone and talk while they snuggled. It wasn’t long however before Yuzo lifted his head again, an act that was charged with his irrepressible energy and spirit. He leaned over and brushed a kiss across Kiku’s lips, then looked into his eyes. “I wish there was time to give you a million kisses,” he said. The words went like a flaming arrow into Kiku’s heart, reminding him of the sensation he’d experienced during the double dragon. I love you, Yuzo. The words came back unbidden, and he almost said them out loud. He couldn’t, not when Yuzo would leave here in a matter of hours and they’d probably never see each other again. “I wish it too, little one,” he murmured instead. “However…” He reached up, pulled Yuzo against him and turned them over so that he half covered Yuzo’s naked body. “We can try to get as many in as possible.” Yuzo’s dreamy look infused his face and he grinned. “Let’s do it.”

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Chapter Twelve

“I don’t think we reached a million kisses,” Kiku said as rubbed Yuzo’s wet hair with his towel. “But we made a good run of it.” Yuzo chuckled. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Deciding Yuzo’s hair was dry enough, he lifted the towel away. “What do you think?” Their afternoon’s love-fest had ended in the shower with Kiku dyeing Yuzo’s hair back to its natural colour. Yuzo was the kind of man who stood out no matter what he did, but there were ways to minimize the possibility of someone spotting him easily on the street. He watched Yuzo study his reflection in the bathroom mirror. As usual, Yuzo was adorable. The dampness made his hair stick out in spikes all over his head and the natural ebony hue brought out the melting dark amber glow of his eyes. Not even Suzuki’s grotesque brand could mar Yuzo’s perfection. “I’m very plain now,” Yuzo said, his tone strangely flat, almost plaintive. He leaned in closer to the mirror and Kiku saw Yuzo’s eyes shift around as he inspected every little detail of his own face. Yuzo’s self-scrutiny pulled at Kiku’s heart the same way his visions of Chan Chan’s rough childhood did. Yuzo frowned. “I can’t believe how quickly I’ve changed. No hair colour, no eyeliner. I look…like nothing.” That pissed Kiku off. Lightly he grasped one of Yuzo’s shoulders and turned him. “You don’t look like nothing,” he growled. “And you will not speak of yourself that way, do you understand?” Yuzo’s eyes widened and his lips parted. Wordlessly he nodded. Kiku softened. His hand still rested on the other man’s shoulder but he slid it upward, past the graceful curve of Yuzo’s neck to cup his cheek. “You’re beautiful, Yuzo-chan. A golden light.” He passed his thumb across Yuzo’s cheekbone. “Outer beauty is a sign of inner beauty.” He trapped Yuzo’s gaze with his. “If you don’t understand that, you’re going to repeat the same self-destructive acts that got you into trouble in the first place. What are you going to do out there, Yuzo-chan? Get involved with another scumbag like the one who gave

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you this?” He brushed the skin near the tattoo taking care not to touch the sensitive area that hadn’t quite healed all the way yet. Yuzo blinked. “I don’t want to do that, Kiku-chama,” he said softly. “That’s why I will look at that mark everyday, so I’ll never forget.” His hands came up to rest on Kiku’s chest. The warm touch sent a sweet shivery feeling through Kiku’s torso. Nothing he’d ever experienced in his life was quite like Yuzo’s touch. “These have been the best two days of my whole life. I’ll never be able to thank you and Ryu and everyone here enough.” He fell silent though Kiku could sense the other words he wasn’t saying out loud. The same words he was feeling but couldn’t say. “If things were different, Yuzo-chan, I’d ask you to stay here…with me.” Yuzo looked down. “You wouldn’t have to ask.” Kiku slid his arms around Yuzo and pulled him close. There was time for a few more kisses before they would have to dress, go over the directions to the ryokan Naoto had arranged for him, have a last meal together and then say good-bye.

**** The mood at the supper table was decidedly sombre. Kiku could feel the emotions simmering in the air, some of relief, some of worry about Yuzo and much worry about him, especially from Ryu and Chan Chan. They understood most immediately the implications of the lack of visions he got from Yuzo. His two closest friends probably also saw the sadness he already felt at having to let Yuzo go. After supper, at Yuzo’s insistence, he helped clean up. When they’d finished, everyone gathered around him. Yuzo bowed to them all, thanking each man individually. At Ryu, Yuzo lingered. He gazed at the other man for what seemed a long time. Suddenly, Yuzo stepped forward and hugged Ryu. Ryu seemed startled for a moment but then returned the embrace. When they pulled apart, Ryu’s hand stayed on Yuzo’s forearm an extra second. “Be careful, Yuzo-san,” he said softly. “Let us know you got there safely, okay?” Yuzo nodded. “I will. I promise.” Ryu released him and Yuzo went to the last man he hadn’t said good-bye to yet. Basho.

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Yuzo bowed deeply. “Basho-sensei,” he said. “Thank you. It was a true honour meeting someone of your skill.” Basho returned the bow then held out his hand, a major gesture for a man who’d avoided physical contact as much as possible for so long. Yuzo’s praise and lively presence had definitely helped nudge Basho a bit further out of his shell. “Be well, Yuzo-chan,” Basho said softly. Of all the other men besides Kiku, he was the one who least wanted Yuzo to leave. Kiku saw it in Basho’s eyes. Yuzo took his hand and squeezed it. “You too, Basho-sensei.” He held Basho’s hand a moment longer then released it. Slowly he turned and put on the leather jacket Naoto had also lent him from Lee. Yuzo picked up the gym bag Ryu had given him, filled with the meagre selection of borrowed clothing Yuzo now had to his name. Naoto came forward, holding the helmet. He held it out with both hands and Yuzo politely accepted it with a deep bow. “Thank you, Naoto-san. I will get all these things back to you when I can. I know how important they are.” Naoto nodded. “It’s all right. Be safe.” He bowed to Yuzo and then stepped back. Koji stood nearby and Yuzo looked at him again. “Bye, Koji-chan,” he said. Koji smiled though his eyes looked sad. He gave Yuzo a brief hug. “Bye. Please take care of yourself.” “I will.” Yuzo hesitated another second then turned. Kiku pulled the door open for him then followed him out into the alley. He watched Yuzo secure the bag onto the back of the bike then do a quick check of all the bike parts. The way Yuzo ran his hands over the bike, examining it, showed his deep familiarity with the vehicle. In the black leather jacket, black pants and white shirt, he took on another completely different air, someone confident, with a wild streak running deep inside him. Yes, Yuzo had the complexity and intense nature of a true White Tiger. All that was left was for Yuzo to put on the helmet, start up the bike and go. He went around the bike and came to stand in front of Kiku, the helmet hanging from one hand. Kiku’s heart pounded. It was barely sunset and yet the world looked to him like a dark veil had been suddenly draped over it. “You have the phone I gave you?” Yuzo nodded. “I do.” “Don’t forget to charge it.” A tiny smile touched Yuzo’s lips. “I won’t.”

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Kiku reached up. He just had to lace his fingers into Yuzo’s hair one last time. The inky black shagginess swallowed up his fingers and slid against the pads of his fingertips like ebony silk. “Call me as soon as you get where you’re going.” Yuzo’s arms closed around him and hung on tight. “I promise, I will,” he murmured against Kiku’s chest. Only after several moments did Yuzo look up. His large eyes were sad. As sad as Kiku felt. “This kiss will make ten thousand, I think,” Kiku murmured. With a gentle fingertip, he tilted Yuzo’s face upward and leaned in. His lips landed on the softness of Yuzo’s lips. They rested there together, breathing into each other’s mouths as they had before, the gentle exchange of energy, of spirit, of sweetness. Kiku stole past the seam of Yuzo’s lips and savoured the velvety moistness of his tongue, the smoothness of his teeth. Yuzo responded with his incredible way of surrender, parting his lips and dancing his tongue against Kiku’s. I love you, the kiss seemed to say. I’ve wanted this my whole life. I’ll be everything you want me to be… Sudden tension clenched Kiku’s back muscles. Suzuki. The yak’s eerie connection to him shivered through him. Whether it was real or not, Kiku didn’t know. A twinge of his conscience or his own soul’s way of easing this good bye? He blocked it out. Closed his eyes and tasted Yuzo one last time before pulling gently away. Yuzo looked up at him. In the growing dusk, Kiku could just barely see the misted expression in the other man’s eyes. But Yuzo didn’t speak. They both knew there was nothing else to say. Kiku watched Yuzo go to the bike, straddle it, then strap on the helmet before taking hold of the handlebars. With one last look over his shoulder, Yuzo kicked the bike to life. The motor’s growl filled the narrow alleyway. The bike engine roared as Yuzo gunned it then took off around the corner. In seconds he was gone. Kiku stood there, unable to move, not trusting his legs to carry him even the short distance to the back door. Inside, the others would still be standing there, waiting for him, concerned. He couldn’t bear to see them just yet. As much as he loved and trusted them all, he needed to be alone a little while. He didn’t want anyone else to see him with this hole blown in his middle. Not just yet.

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**** The rush of air on Yuzo’s face had lost its splendour. The open road before him, the roar of the bike and the rumble of it between his legs—all flat. The sense of freedom all those things had engendered in him for years was nonexistent. With the exception of being closed in his room at Suzuki’s, Yuzo had never felt more a prisoner. Back in his boso days, gunning the engine as he and his fellow gang members cruised Tokyo, he sensed the possibility of the world lying before him. Now, there seemed to be shadows and danger lurking in every corner. Yuzo reached the outskirts of Arida and turned onto the main waterfront road that led into town. Naoto had certainly chosen well. The town was big enough to find work, populous enough for him to blend into the background, but small enough not to attract too many yakuza who needed the larger ports to do their business. Not that it mattered. Nothing could comfort the emptiness in his chest. Turning the bike off the main road, Yuzo ascended the street that led up the hillside where the ryokan was. Naoto’s family hadn’t had the money to vacation in a ryokan directly on the water, but this one was clean and comfortable, Naoto had explained, and the family that ran it would serve him nice meals and look after him. Yuzo found the place after a few minutes of riding slowly through the back streets. There were plenty of shops and eateries as this was a seaside town that catered to many vacationers. Perhaps one of these places would need a cook. The wad of cash Kiku had given him would last only so long and Yuzo really didn’t want to take any more from the man than he already had. He parked the bike along the curb in front of the ryokan and went in the front entrance. As Naoto had promised, the people greeted him warmly and had prepared a room for him. He followed an older woman upstairs and into one of the rooms. She bowed politely and smiled before leaving. A younger woman, no doubt the daughter judging by her resemblance to the other lady, stood in her wake, holding a pile of folded towels. The girl also smiled at him as she went in and placed the towels delicately off to the side. She went to the closet and slid back one of the doors, revealing the bedding.

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Yuzo stood by the large picture window, watching her. He noticed she was close to his age and pretty, her long hair pulled back off her face. She rolled out his futon and bedcovers onto the centre of the floor. When she’d finished and rose, she smiled at him again, a shy look in her eyes. Yuzo recognised that expression, the way a person looked at another when they found them attractive. Usually, he felt flattered and got a bit of a rush when someone looked at him that way. Tonight, it only made him feel worse, bereft and hopeless. Such a look was sweet but empty, really. He couldn’t help comparing it to the way Kiku had looked at him. Desire, appreciation and understanding had all been in his gaze, a dark simmering look that said I see you, all of you, the darkness as well as the light and I accept it all. The girl bowed to him. He thanked her and watched her leave, sliding the door shut behind her. He sighed and turned to the window, his helmet still clutched in one hand, his borrowed jacket still on. Though the ryokan wasn’t on the waterfront, it was high up enough to give a sweeping view of the water beyond the town. It was too dark to see anything but the twinkling of ground lights and a few other lights dotting the blackness of the night sky and water. But in the daytime, the view was probably really nice. With another sigh, Yuzo shrugged out of his jacket, hung it neatly in a closet and fished the phone out of his bag. The only thing he really wanted right now was to hear Kiku’s voice. Kiku picked up on the second ring. “Yuzo-chan, you’re safe?” The deep voice on the other end sent tingling waves through Yuzo’s whole body. He closed his eyes and dropped to his knees, being flooded with the mere sound of Kiku’s voice. Hard to believe just a short time ago, Kiku had been close enough to touch and kiss. “I’m safe. I’m in my room.” A sigh of relief came through the line. “Good. I’ve been worried, although you certainly seem quite at home on a bike.” Yuzo pressed the phone closer to his ear, as if that could bring Kiku physically closer to him. “I used to be. Everything’s different now.” He leaned back, resting against the wall. The weirdest sensation overcame him, as if all his physical strength had drained from him, leaving only an abandoned skin bag. “Yes, it’s different now.”

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Silence reigned over the line for several moments. “Yuzo-chan, I’m glad that I know you now. I’d rather have had these last two days than never have had them. Do you understand?” Yuzo felt tears sting at his eyes. “Yes.” Strangely, he understood. Would it have been better to remain frazzled, lost and terrified, as he’d been with Suzuki, using only his wits and looks to survive? No. It wouldn’t have been. He’d rather have this overwhelming ache of missing Kiku than the constant existential horror he’d had around Suzuki or the emotional desolation of his parents’ home. He’d rather have…love. “Me too,” he managed to say. “Listen, little one, lie low for a while. Don’t worry about money. I’ll make sure you have enough. Just be careful and call me, any time of the day or night.” “Thank you.” Yuzo’s voice was shaky. He pressed closer to the wall, needing its support and took a deep breath. He’d thought many times on the ride here that he’d need to cut off contact with Kiku completely in order to really get away. But now, hearing Kiku’s voice, feeling the relief and safety he experienced just knowing there was a connection between them, he probably would never be able to cut Kiku off. He’d have to get through each day, satisfied to hear Kiku’s voice and know they’d shared two precious days and nights. That would have to be enough.

**** Kiku’s eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright. What time was it? He picked up his cell phone and opened it. Three-thirty in the morning. He’d only been asleep for a little over an hour yet felt wide awake. “Kiku-chama.” Kiku froze. As his attention focused, he heard the quiet sound of breathing. Had Ryu come in? Years ago Ryu used to come and slip in beside him after having had one of his nightmares about Suzuki. He turned and looked down. Someone was there. “Ryu-chan?” “No, Kiku-chama. It’s me.”

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Kiku’s heart thumped. He reached for the knob control next to the bed and turned on the light. His heart flipped over. “Yuzo-chan, what are you—” He fell silent and reached out, intending to touch Yuzo’s hair. Yuzo opened his eyes and smiled. He lay on his back, bare-chested, the covers down to his waist. “How could I stay away from you?” he whispered, then stretched like a satisfied cat, his lean muscles flexing, stirring heat in Kiku’s body. Kiku passed a hand over Yuzo’s hair. Softness met his fingertips, although he didn’t remember Yuzo’s hair feeling quite like this. He kept stroking and swallowed. A hard lump formed in his throat. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “It’s not safe.” Yuzo’s smile deepened. “Don’t worry about that, Kiku-chama. I feel stronger when I’m with you. I’d never felt strong before in my life until now. I love you.” The declaration made tears sting in Kiku’s eyes. “I love you too, little one,” he breathed. Yuzo’s eyes twinkled. The light in the room cast a sensual glow off his pale, perfect skin. Delicious. “So, Kiku-chama,” he breathed, “when are you going to kiss me?” Kiku smiled. How wonderful that Yuzo was actually here. Perhaps he’d only dreamed Yuzo had left. It was so much better, so much sweeter that he was here in this bed than in a ryokan in Arida, so far away. “I’ll kiss you right now.” Nothing else in the entire universe seemed a better promise than kissing Yuzo. He leaned over, anticipating the velvety nectar of the other man’s lips. A sigh escaped him at the contact. Kiku opened his lips, wanting to taste the moist heat of Yuzo’s mouth. But Yuzo wasn’t responding. The sensation under Kiku’s mouth was dull, lifeless. He pulled away and leaned back. No Yuzo. Just an empty pillow where he’d seen Yuzo resting. Kiku stared. Nande? He smoothed a hand over the spot. No body warmth. Just unoccupied space. “No!” he cried out softly. He fell onto his back, panting in harsh breaths. The disappointment was horrifying, one of the worst feelings he’d ever known. Throwing back the covers, he launched to his feet, went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He stood, bracing his hands on the vanity for several moments while he gathered his thoughts. Hallucinating. He’d been hallucinating. Shit. Who hallucinated? Someone who was losing his mind. Someone who was demented or on drugs. Or was it…

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He couldn’t consider that possibility. Could someone be so closely entwined with someone else that to be apart from them was a form of torture? Kiku raised his gaze to the mirror. The man who gazed back at him looked sad, forlorn. Tortured. Finally he went back into the bedroom and sank heavily onto his bed. “Kiku-chama.” He turned. There was Yuzo again. Yuzo lifted his arms, reaching out, that same intoxicating smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, Kiku-chama,” he said in a silky voice, “I’m real.” “No, you’re in Arida.” Kiku resisted the overpowering need to succumb to the offered embrace. If he did, he’d only meet with the empty mattress. “I’m inside you, Kiku-chama. Forever.” “Kiku?” Kiku stared at Yuzo’s face. Yuzo was still smiling but the voice that had spoken wasn’t his. “Are you all right?” The voice came closer. It was familiar. Worried. Kiku turned. Ryu stood nearby, staring down at him. “Kiku, who are you talking to?” Kiku blinked several times and looked down at his bed. Empty. No Yuzo. “I…don’t know. I was having a dream.” Ryu’s worry swirled in the air around them. “I’m really all right, Ryu-chan. Go back to bed.” He rubbed one hand over his face and head. As much as he loved Ryu, it was…humiliating to be seen like this. “Please.” Ryu lingered another few seconds. “I’ll be here if you need me.” “Thank you, little friend.” He watched Ryu walk out and slide the screen closed behind him.

**** Four days later…

Kiku lay back on the bed and pressed the speed dial for Yuzo’s phone. He stared up at the ceiling as the phone dialled the number. Yuzo should be in his room as he was each night

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this time when they talked. Yuzo was doing as he’d said, lying low, only leaving his room to walk around and familiarise himself with his surroundings. It seemed Yuzo was thinking of staying in Arida. At least for the time being. The fact that Arida wasn’t really that far away didn’t seem to make a difference. Not when each minute that passed dragged on as if it were an hour. Had it only been a few days since Yuzo had left? When they’d been together, the minutes had flown. Now each hour felt like weeks. Yuzo picked up on the third ring. “Moshi moshi. Kiku-chama?” He sounded breathless. Kiku couldn’t help smiling at the sound of the other man’s voice. “Were you running?” “No. I was in the shower. But I kept the phone nearby. I just had to turn off the water and dry my hand.” He paused. “I’m so glad you called.” Kiku pulled in a deep breath, bracing himself against the heavy feeling that enveloped every inch of his body, as if his legs and arms had been filled with lead. Not even picturing Yuzo in the shower, water dripping down his pale smooth skin could cause the feeling to lift. In fact, that made it worse. “Me too.” “I…remembered there was that party everyone was talking about the other day. Are you going?” “No.” He just couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. “Why not? Don’t you want to go?” “No.” If Yuzo had been here, he would have wanted to go. He didn’t say that, nor did he say that he barely had the energy to get up off his futon, never mind to attend a party. And even if Yuzo were here, they couldn’t have left the White Tiger. Not with Suzuki prowling around everywhere. As it was the yak would probably pass by the guys as they walked around the corner. Suzuki wouldn’t try anything out in the open. Besides, Naoto would handle him if he tried to speak to Ryu. “Oh.” Another silence ensued. It wasn’t as if there was nothing to speak about. In the past few days, Yuzo had told him all about Arida, the quiet side streets, the pretty view to the water, the quieter pace of life there as opposed to Tokyo which beat like a heart, night and day. Yuzo had also asked him more about his life in the past, his childhood in Yokohama, his early days as a yak, what he looked like, what he wore. And in spite of the tense situation they were in together, those conversations had been so sweet, so enjoyable, like old friends

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chatting, never wanting to hang up the phone. Today, however, Kiku just couldn’t say all the things he wanted to say to Yuzo. “No, I’ll be here. Basho always stays in. I’ll keep him company.” “Please tell him I said hello and that I miss his food.” “I will. He appreciates when you say that.” The light tone he was trying to keep sounded like such bullshit to his own ears. But what could he do? Tell Yuzo how crappy he felt? How he felt as if he were dying inside? That for three days now he’d been hallucinating and having actual conversations with Yuzo in the middle of the night, and that Ryu was coming in and having to shake him out of it? What could Yuzo do about it from there? And why keep him emotionally tied that way? It would be cruel. Yuzo needed a chance to make a new start. “Yuzo-chan, are you being careful?” “Yes, I am. I promise.” “And are you meditating? That’s the most important thing. If you strengthen your mind, you’ll be able to deal with anything.” “Yes, Kiku-chama. I haven’t missed one.” Kiku breathed a sigh of relief. If he couldn’t hold Yuzo in his arms, he could at least hold him in spirit. “Good.” “I…miss you.” Kiku’s heart squeezed. He sank back harder into the pillows. Why did it have to be this way? “I miss you too, little one. Call me later to say good night, all right?” “I will.” Kiku paused. This moment was always torture. The moment before cutting off the call. “Bye.” He almost said, “I love you,” as he did all the time to the imaginary Yuzo of his hallucinations, but held back at the last second. Once the words came out, they made that bond between them even more real, tying them together more. How would Yuzo ever get away then? That would be torture for both of them too, wouldn’t it? “Bye, Kiku-chama.” Kiku clicked off the phone and set it on the bed beside him. He sighed just as someone knocked softly on his screen. “Come in.” The door slid open and Ryu stood in the doorway. Ryu frowned when their gazes met. “I heard you talking.” He walked in and knelt down.

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Kiku held up the phone. “I just called Yuzo. It was actually him I was speaking with this time.” Last night when Ryu came in, Kiku had finally broken down and confessed the hallucinations to him. Ryu nodded but the look in his eyes said everything. He was worried sick. He’d gotten his ass kicked in his practice spar this afternoon in preparation for an upcoming fight. Ryu only lost practice spars when his concentration was taken up somewhere else. “We were about to leave, but I’ll stay if you—” “No, Ryu-chan, please, go. Enjoy it.” He reached out and touched Ryu’s cheek. “There are good things in life that must be enjoyed. Hojo’s parties are one of them.” His quip earned a smile. Ryu had an incredible smile. The smile faded quickly, replaced by the same concern as a moment before. “We’ll come home early.” “Don’t. Basho is here. If I need anything, he’ll help me. Besides, we’ll keep each other company.” Ryu’s brow furrowed. “Look, little friend, in spite of how it looks, you know how strong I really am.” He reached out and gave Ryu’s cheek a gentle pinch. “I’m still the same guy who held O-shin’s father halfway out of his office window until he told you where he’d sent her.” Ryu’s little girlfriend had been sent to a boarding school in England because her family’s housekeeper saw Ryu kiss her on the lips and told her father they were having sex. Two innocent fourteen-year-old kids, and that’s how they’d been punished for a budding romance. Kiku had made Ryu show him where the girl’s father worked. The guy could no longer refuse to answer Ryu’s pleas about where his friend was. In between his screams and struggles against Kiku’s brawny strength, he’d told Ryu the truth. Ryu nodded, looking relieved. “This is true.” He leaned over and kissed Kiku’s cheek. “Call if you need us,” he said softly. “I will.”

**** Ryu walked next to Mod on the way to Hojo’s, with Koji and Naoto in front of him, Tatou and Quan Chan behind him. As usual, Ni Chome teemed with life, people on their

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way to clubs and bars. The restaurants were full. Hojo’s parties were always fun with live music and incredible food. Only, how the hell could he enjoy any of it after these last few days? Kiku was having entire imaginary conversations in the middle of the night with Yuzo. Ryu always got up and peeked in, praying that Kiku was actually on the phone with him. But he wasn’t, not at that hour. Kiku had always been a sensitive man in all the time Ryu had known him. Kiku’s heart had miraculously remained soft and open. For whatever reason, Yuzo had gotten deep inside him and Kiku was going mad with missing him. In all the time they’d been friends, Ryu had never seen Kiku so…in love. And that was a damn long time. Seventeen years. Since Ryu was a ten year old kid in his school uniform. That was how long. A lifetime for him. An all-too-familiar black sedan slowed down and pulled alongside the curb, crawling at the pace it took the group of them to walk. The streetlamps and lights from the various restaurants and storefronts glared off the highly tinted windows. Except for one, which slid down, making Ryu’s heart speed up. Please no. “Ryu-chan.” Suzuki’s voice emanated from the backseat before his face emerged. Naoto halted and stood between Ryu and the car, now idling at the curb. “What do you want?” Naoto’s voice was gruff, angry. He hated Suzuki more than anyone else did. Ryu pulled in a deep breath, grateful for the human wall Naoto put between him and Suzuki. In fact, all the others, Koji, Mod, Tatou and Chan Chan all closed around him like a shield. “None of your business, big tiger,” Suzuki said. “I’m speaking to Ryu.” Naoto looked over his shoulder. He was wearing that fierce look he got when he was being protective. “Don’t say anything to him, Ryu-chan,” he growled. Naoto had a temper. When he was first getting together with Koji, he’d pinned Koji’s father to the wall to stop him from verbally abusing Koji. However, Koji’s father wasn’t an armed psychopath. Come to think of it, Naoto’s temper and his hatred of Suzuki was a bad combination here. Ryu put a hand on Naoto’s arm and stepped forward, remaining just behind Naoto and Koji so he could see the car from between them. “It’s all right,” he said softly. He looked at Suzuki whose broad, coarse face stared at him from the window. Though Suzuki’s presence made his very soul tremble with fear, it was best just to deal with him and be done with it,

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not do the hiding thing that Kiku always insisted on. “What is it, Suzuki-san?” he said to the yak, still grateful for the protective cover of his friends. Suzuki smiled at him. “I just wanted to say hello to you. Your friends here don’t understand our special relationship.” The words sent icy shivers down Ryu’s arms. Yeah, their relationship was ‘special’ all right. Rapist and victim. Real special. “You’ve said hello. Now we’re going.” Naoto’s voice was tight, angry in a way that didn’t bode well. Ryu squeezed Naoto’s brawny arm surreptitiously, hoping his friend would take the hint and let it go. “We’re late,” he added, hoping to mollify Suzuki. The yak’s buttons were way too easy to push even though he was a tough as nails bastard. The fact that Suzuki’s own father would probably have him killed if he did something crazy was really the only thing keeping Suzuki in line. “Where’s Fuju tonight? It’s not like him to miss one of Hojo’s parties.” More icy heat fanned through Ryu’s chest. Like he’d tell Suzuki that Kiku was actually unwell because he missed Yuzo so damn much. “He’s home. Fever.” Suzuki frowned, an obvious look of mock sympathy. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please send my well wishes. By the way, if any of you happen to see Yuzo, tell him I’m looking for him.” Ryu’s fingers tightened on Naoto’s arm. Suzuki had to be yanking his chain. They both knew no one at the White Tiger, to a man, would ever reveal Yuzo’s whereabouts to him. “Fine,” he said even though it was an obvious lie. Suzuki’s thin lips stretched into another smile that sent more chills through Ryu’s skin. Suzuki had creeped him out since he was a kid, which was why he’d ignored him and avoided him, even when Suzuki tried to give him presents. “Thank you, Ryu-chan.” Ryu remained silent. In the next second, Suzuki chuckled again and sat back. His window slid back up and the car pulled out into traffic. “Are you all right?” Naoto turned to him fully now. His wide face still retained some ferocity but concern was foremost in his look. Next to him, Koji’s hand came to rest gently and protectively on Ryu’s shoulder. Ryu pulled in a deep, steadying breath. It didn’t matter how much older or stronger he got, Suzuki still made him feel like that skinny seventeen year old pinned helplessly underneath his stocky body. He nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

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The twins each took an arm and Ryu was grateful for the comforting press of their bodies on either side of him. Ryu looked at Naoto. “Do you think it’s possible he knows Yuzo came to the White Tiger and now he’s just messing with us?” Naoto shook his head, his rugged face still an angry mask. “With that bastard, anything’s possible. But it didn’t seem like he knew.” Ryu nodded. “I guess not.” They resumed walking and Mod slipped his hand into Ryu’s, lacing their fingers together. Ryu sighed. Suzuki probably didn’t know about Yuzo. Yet. A shudder passed down his spine even though Suzuki wasn’t there now. He just couldn’t let his mind consider what Suzuki would do if…or when…he learned the truth.

**** Suzuki fished his phone out of his jacket as the car continued away from the curb. Ryu had been so close to him he could almost smell the perfume of the man’s skin. Speaking to him, looking directly into his face had been just little tastes, but he’d take what he could get. For now. When his phone lit up, he pressed the speed dial. The line was answered on the third ring. “Moshi moshi, White Tiger.” Suzuki grinned to himself. He’d thought Ryu might be yanking his chain about Fuju being sick, but Fuju actually did sound like shit. Not his usual overblown self. “Fuju, how are you tonight? You sound a bit peaked.” “I’m fine.” Liar. “I don’t hear music in the background,” Suzuki went on. “Aren’t you at Hojo’s annual bash?” “Why do you ask?” “Because I’m lonely tonight, Fuju, and I found myself craving your company.” On the other end of the line he heard a deep sigh. Not the usual crackling of tension followed by Fuju’s attempts not to curse at him. “I’m not in the mood for company, thank you.”

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“Oh, so you aren’t at the party, are you?” “No.” Chibe pulled the car up to the curb in front of the White Tiger. Suzuki grinned to himself. “Well, then, I won’t come to keep you company. But I have other business to discuss with you. Let me in. I’m almost to the front door. Or would you prefer I go to the kitchen in back?” He knew that Fuju kept the night of the party blocked out so that no one could make a reservation or use the hotel on that night. The perfect time to search the place. If Yuzo was in there, he’d be found. If he wasn’t, then it was just a delicious opportunity to bust Fuju’s balls. Fuju released a harsh breath and Suzuki practically laughed. He could just picture the man closing his eyes, fighting for self-control. “Very well, Suzuki.” Suzuki closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket just as Fuju appeared at the door. Fuju looked as shitty as he’d sounded. Dark circles smudged the skin under his eyes and he looked depressed. How satisfying. He held one side of the glass doors open and stood aside to let Suzuki and the two morons in. “What happened to you, Fuju?” he asked as he sauntered past. “Excuse me if I don’t take my shoes off. I have back trouble. And so do they.” He jerked a thumb at Chibe and Miyagi. Only mild annoyance flickered over Fuju’s usually vibrant face. Tonight he looked as if he’d spent a good deal of time vomiting, or something. “Come to my office,” he said, “Whatever business you needed to discuss can be discussed in there. I’ll even arrange for tea.” “Aren’t you the kind host, Fuju.” He gave the man a condescending pat on the shoulder. “No need. We won’t be here long. I just thought I’d have a look around, the place being empty of guests and all. You don’t mind, do you? I have a friend I’m looking for and I thought maybe he might be here.” He peered into Fuju’s eyes. Even those looked duller. “I think you should have some tea, though. You look like you need it.” Fuju’s face darkened. “I told you he’s not here.” In spite of his tone, however, he didn’t seem inclined to stop Chibe or Miyagi who’d paced ahead, weapons out and were prowling through his office now. They peered under the desk, opened closet doors, checked every possible nook. Yuzo was pretty small and could probably fit into a shoebox if needed. Suzuki oversaw the search while also keeping tabs on Fuju. “This is the first time you’ve ever actually said he wasn’t.” He turned fully to Fuju, hating that he had to tilt his

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gaze slightly upwards to the man’s superior height. “However, since the little prince isn’t here, as you say, Fuju, you won’t mind if I just double check.” Fuju released another deep sigh. He gestured in the air, palm up. “Be my guest.” “Don’t worry, I will.” He called to Chibe and Miyagi. “He’s obviously not in here.” Turning to Fuju, he grinned. “Please, give us the grand tour.” An hour’s scouring of the place didn’t reveal Yuzo. Suzuki even sampled from the pot of soup simmering on the stove. If Yuzo had cooked it, he’d have tasted the little prince’s magic touch in the food. But it wasn’t there, so he had the two assholes open every single cabinet in the kitchen, check behind the giant refrigerator and then search the cripple’s room off to the side, bathroom and all. The cook just stood there behind Fuju like the wounded dog he appeared to be with his limp and the burn scars on the side of his head, his gaze darting to Fuju’s every couple of seconds. As if Fuju could possibly help him. At least Fuju had the grace not to appear smug. In fact, he looked even more haggard now than he had at the beginning of the search. Suzuki turned to him, aware of the gimpy cook still cowering in the corner. The guy must have been ruffed up by yakuza in the past by the look of him. “All right, Fuju, you won this round, but I suspect this isn’t over. Knowing you, you’ve got him hidden away somewhere.” He clucked his teeth. “Not smart.” Fuju stood arms hanging at his sides, his head slightly bowed. “I have nothing to do with him. It’s all in your head.” “So you’re fond of saying. There’s just one little problem. You’re a liar and you’ve always done what you can to screw me over. Not a formula for making me believe you.” The other man looked at him. For one brief second, his eyes sparked with the fire he usually had in them. “When will it be over, Suzuki?” Fuju’s voice fell to a harsh whisper, a defeated sound. Not at all worthy of the godlike yak he’d once been. The worm. He looked at Fuju. There were moments when what shreds of respect he had left for the man thinned out further. This was one of them. “You were once so fucking hot, Fuju,” he said. “The ground practically melted wherever you walked. Now look at you. You’re pathetic. You think this Taoist shit changes what you were? Wipes away your past? Think again. I’m still around, like a damn mosquito buzzing in your ear. No matter how much you slap at me I come back and drive you crazy. You would never have let that happen before. You were more of a tiger before you became this kind of tiger.” He waved his hand as if he were dismissing a stupid child, observing Fuju for the possible effect his words could have.

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But the times when he could make the man rise to the bait had long passed. All he got in return was the slightest twitch of a muscle in Fuju’s jaw. Oh, but there was one more dig he could make, and even if Fuju didn’t respond, the words would get to him, drive in deep and make him restless in his sleep. “To answer your question, Fuju, about when this will end?” He pointed to him for emphasis. “When Ryu is in my bed, naked, with his legs wrapped around my hips. That’s when it will end.” He saw Fuju’s large fists tighten but the man didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Suzuki chuckled. “I’m glad we had this little talk. Aren’t you? Didn’t it make you feel better? I know it made me feel better. Communication, Fuju, that’s what it’s all about. Makes my nipples tingle. Good night.” He walked past Fuju towards the kitchen door and gestured to Chibe and Miyagi who’d been standing there, blocking the doorway. They turned and opened the swinging doors for their boss. “Don’t worry, I’ll show myself out. But you’d better lock the door behind me. You wouldn’t want any undesirables coming in here and walking around with their shoes on. So disrespectful.”

Kiku watched Suzuki disappear as the doors swung shut behind him and his goons. Only then did he notice how hard his fingernails were digging into his palms. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed and then some more to deal with that bastard. Suzuki knew all too well that Ryu was his biggest button and used every chance he could to push on it, full pressure. The sound of harsh breathing behind him pulled his attention. Basho stood right behind him, his eyes wide, as if the incident were forcing him to relive the horror that had left him scarred and limping. In that moment, Basho appeared as he had years ago when Kiku first met him, a complete mess who hadn’t even been able to remember his own name or where he was from. Kiku had just been converting this place into the White Tiger when he’d found Basho in the back alley, picking through garbage. Even in that first moment, he’d seen the jewel underneath the dirt and ripped clothing and had brought Basho in. A good friend and a master chef had been lurking underneath the broken, scarred façade. And Basho spoke perfect English with a London accent. “Are you all right, Basho-chan?” He resisted the urge to embrace Basho who still avoided intimate contact. He did practice the White Tiger path so Kiku had given him instructions on how to practice by

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himself. That would work, at least for now. And it had been working. Basho was coming out of his hermit-like existence more each day. Basho nodded and limped forward. He was shaking but appeared less frightened. He’d obviously been working very hard to stay calm. “Yes. I apologise for being so afraid.” He looked down. “I’m afraid I’d be useless in a scuffle.” “You don’t need to be useful that way,” he assured Basho. “This little visit was child’s play anyhow.” He continued to peer at Basho, to make sure his friend was really all right. To Kiku’s shock, Basho reached out and squeezed his shoulder. His touch was firmer and more confident than he appeared capable of. The man was definitely more balanced now. Perhaps at some point in the near future he’d be ready for a partner. Kiku had even hoped at times that he and Ryu could be together since Ryu was Basho’s closest friend here. But so far, neither man seemed inclined toward the other in that way. He reached up and patted Basho’s hand. “I’ll be all right. However, if you would, don’t tell the others what happened. You know I don’t keep secrets, but knowing Suzuki came in here and searched the place will just put them all more on edge than they are already.” “I understand. You have my word.” Basho paused. “I had been about to make some tea when he barged in here. Would you like some?” Kiku’s gaze swept the kitchen. Yuzo had only been here a short couple of days, but the memory of him cooking in here alongside Basho, then dancing and singing, making the reclusive man laugh was still strong. Like a possessive cat, Yuzo had come right in here and made the place his own. Had made Kiku his own. The thought made ripples of heat through Kiku’s loins. The most life he’d felt since Yuzo had roared away on that bike. He sighed. “Yes, I would, thank you.”

**** Yuzo stared out the window of his room. At night, the sea beyond was like an inky blackness he could just disappear into. He sighed and raked one hand through his still damp hair. After hanging up with Kiku a couple of hours ago, he’d turned the shower back on and stayed under the spray as hot as he could stand it until the water turned cold. At least in the shower, he could pretend for a little while that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

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And it was in the shower that he’d had his first experience with Kiku. That’s what he’d thought of the entire time. Kiku’s hands roaming over his body, pulling out the bad energy. Kiku’s voice crooning to him, encouraging him to be strong. After getting out of the shower, he’d meditated for a while. That too, made him feel closer to Kiku. No one else, not even Uncle Tokuma had looked so deep inside him and understood him. His uncle had always been his friend but he’d also been away much of Yuzo’s life, travelling the world, performing in one of Japan’s most reputable Noh troupes. They’d even been invited to perform at the United Nations all the way in the States. Yuzo had never felt he could live up to something like that. An uncle who was a famous actor. His own lack of ambition had always plagued him. He’d never really wanted anything out of life except someone to love who loved him back just as much. A real partnership, like the couples he read about in his graphic novels. Sure, they were romantic images created by an author, but still… Those two days and nights with Kiku had been the best of his life. He hadn’t wanted anything else. And even that had been too much to want. Now, he simply gazed through the window, trying to make his imagination into a dark channel, as he’d done each night since getting here. If he concentrated and listened only to his breath, he could transform the scene outside his window into the vision of velvety twinkling lights he’d seen when Kiku was making love to him. Pleasure had radiated through his body, and then through what he could only call his soul. He’d floated into a kind of heavenly fog and yet had remained completely aware of Kiku’s presence, of the man’s protective, nurturing touch. For a little while, Yuzo succeeded in making the night sky and the sea beyond his window into that little piece of heaven. But then he’d hear a noise behind him, in the hallway outside his room, or a car engine on the street below and plummet back into stark reality. He spent a bit more time imagining himself and Kiku at that party, slow dancing, their arms around each other, their groins rubbing together in a rhythm to sensuous, romantic music. Maybe Kiku would press a kiss to his neck while he palmed Kiku’s broad back. Maybe they’d stare into each other’s eyes while the rest of the world vanished. He sighed. That was never to be anyway. Finally, he turned from the window. Maybe a walk would help him dispel the nagging combination of depression and restlessness that plagued him after the sun went down. He

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shrugged into his jacket and left his room. At the front door, he slipped into his shoes and went out. This town was so quiet. Not the glitzy lit up place Tokyo was. Until recently, he’d never have wanted to spend a minute in a village like this. Now, it was his only choice. Yuzo found himself drawn in the direction of the water. He followed the sidewalks down the hillside to the road that skirted the shoreline. A little ways off was a working port. During the day the air was filled with the constant hum and chug of the trawler engines dotting the surface of the Kiisuido Channel. Now, as he neared the docks, the only sound was the water lapping against the sides of the boats and the distant sound of voices where a group of men hung out at one quayside, smoking. Yuzo avoided them, passing with his shoulders hunched up. Since being with that strap-wielding cop and then Suzuki, every rough looking man he saw was a potential yak or thug of some sort. For a while, Yuzo had begun to believe all the men in the world were that way…except the guys at the White Tiger. They weren’t rough or mean. Not even Naoto who’d scared him a little because he was big and looked angry sometimes. Naoto was loyal and devoted to Kiku and Naoto was also deeply in love with Koji. At the supper table, Yuzo had caught Naoto looking at his lover with a smitten look. The expression had softened the rugged edges of Naoto’s face and in that moment, Yuzo had understood how love could change a person for the better. Yuzo glanced at the group of men as he passed. Most of their backs were to him and they didn’t seem to notice him anyway, but he still felt cautious. As far as he could see, there was no real yak activity, but you never knew. The major crime families, and especially the Suzuki-gumi had gang outposts everywhere, with their fingers into many pots in other cities and towns besides Tokyo. If Suzuki put out a warning to those others to look for him, he was screwed. They’d find him and punish him no matter where he was. The thought made him walk faster. He crossed the main road back towards the town. Maybe walking out here alone at night hadn’t been such a good idea. What he wouldn’t give to be back in the White Tiger, in the glowing warmth the place offered. For a tiny moment in time, he’d felt a part of something there. Even if the others hadn’t fully accepted him, maybe they would have in time. They certainly had treated him with incredible kindness in the face of the trouble he’d brought them. Where would he ever find another place like that? Or another man like Kiku?

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He already knew the answer. His heart sank lower as he passed the closed up shops and dark houses. The only places open were a couple of restaurants and bars and he certainly couldn’t go inside those places. Back in his room, he pulled the bedding from the closet and rolled it out in the centre of the room. He called Kiku again. Their conversation was brief, much the same as the one before, but he was glad just to hear the other man’s voice. The sound alone made him feel anchored, hopeful, even in this hopeless situation. After they hung up, he plugged the phone in to charge, undressed and lay on his back, listening to the sounds of the water and breeze through the open window. When he’d been with Suzuki, there were so many times he’d lie awake in bed and wish that he’d die in his sleep. Let Suzuki wake up and find a lifeless body in the bed next to him. Yuzo had thought many times of taking those sleeping pills himself, the entire bottle, instead of giving a couple to Suzuki just to make him sleep so he could get away. The only thing that had kept him from doing it was knowing he’d hurt his uncle so badly. The feeling of wanting to die returned now, more intense than ever. But his body was strong and healthy and he knew he wouldn’t die in his sleep. There was that water, however, the channel, a narrow strip of ocean wide enough to get lost in. He could swim out and just keep going, so far he’d get cold and exhausted and sink to the bottom. But then he imagined Kiku trying to call him on the phone and never reaching him. Kiku would call and call. Maybe he’d get in a car and drive down here, looking for his lover and never find him, never know what had happened. Maybe he’d even think that Yuzo had given up on him and left the country; or maybe Kiku would worry that he’d been murdered. He’d never know. Or worse, some fishermen would drag his body from the murky depths and then Kiku would have to identify him. How could Yuzo do that to him? How damn cruel would that be? No. Yuzo heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. Somehow he’d find a way to survive, to keep going. He always had, now that he thought of it. Because there had always been someone he was important to. It wasn’t his parents and never had been, but that didn’t matter anymore. He now had someone to live…really live for…besides himself. That thought infused him with strength. Warmth crept into his toes and spread up his legs, through his groin and stomach, up into his chest, neck, face and then into the top of his head.

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He smiled to himself. Maybe it was the new Yuzo rising to the surface. The Yuzo he wanted to be. The one that Kiku had seen inside of him. If Kiku loved that person, then he was worth keeping alive.

**** As Ryu had expected, enjoying the party was difficult, even with Mod being so attentive to him. Since Yuzo had shown up at the White Tiger, the twins had lavished attention on Ryu, their way of taking out what they knew was a sting for their friend. Mod hung all over him in a sensual yet protective way, holding him close when they danced, stroking his hair and his neck, but in spite of the pleasant contact, Ryu’s worry had worsened after speaking with Suzuki. Had Kiku been there, he would have rushed them all away from the car, but in his absence, Ryu had known it was best to speak to him. Not wanting to ruin every one else’s time, he did his best to enjoy the party until it was over, sitting and watching people writhe together on the dance floor while Mod pushed in close to him, their hands still laced together. “Hey, Ryu-chan, I was thinking we should get back and look in on Kiku.” Naoto’s voice made him turn. He looked at his friend. Naoto sat back against the cushioned seat, one brawny arm draped across Koji’s shoulders. On their other side, Tatou sat the same way with Quan Chan. Come to think of it, they were all sitting together, as if waiting to leave. Seemed all of them were as concerned about Kiku as he was. Suzuki’s little drive by had left a pall over their whole little group. Ryu nodded. “Yeah, we should.” Together they went to thank Hojo for the party and bid him and his partner Tetsuya goodnight. As soon as they were home, Ryu went upstairs. Soft light glowed through the rice paper of the soji screen to Kiku’s bedroom. For a moment, Ryu stood there, listening for any sounds coming from within. Disturbing Kiku was something he only did on very rare occasion. But before he could lift a hand to rap gently on the frame of the screen, Kiku spoke. “Ryu-chan? Is that you?”

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Ryu pulled in a soft breath. “Yes.” “Please, come in.” Ryu’s heartbeat sped up a bit. He slid back the screen and stepped in, closing it behind him. Kiku sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in a tank shirt and baggy pants. Both large hands cupped his head, elbows on his knees. Ryu stood by the door, uncertain. “I’m sorry if I made noise.” Kiku’s hands slid from his scalp as he looked up. He remained hunched over, hands clasped together. His lips curved into a tiny smile but the look didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s all right. I was up and I saw your shadow against the screen. I needed to make sure I wasn’t…you know.” Ryu’s heart thumped. “Yes, I know.” He looked at his friend. Usually the soft glow of the lighting emphasised the dramatic, chiselled quality of Kiku’s face, but now, it only served to show how drawn he looked. Ryu had never seen Kiku like this before in all the time he’d known him. Guiltily, a spike of jealousy stabbed him. Why couldn’t he have ever had this effect on Kiku? Yuzo had accomplished in mere days what Ryu couldn’t do in seventeen years. “Do you need anything?” Kiku shook his head. “No, thank you. Just your company for a bit, if that’s all right.” “Of course it is.” Ryu crossed over and knelt in front of him. He’d do whatever Kiku wanted, whenever. Kiku sighed. “How was the party?” Ryu bowed his head, uncertain as to whether to mention the little confrontation with Suzuki. He decided against it for the moment. “Okay. We came back early because everyone was worried about you.” To his surprise, Kiku reached out and gently ruffled his hair. Ryu closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the brief touch. “You’re the one I’m worried about,” Kiku said softly. His dark eyes were misted over. “You’re my precious baby. You know that don’t you?” The words sent the sting of tears to Ryu’s eyes. In seventeen years of friendship, Kiku had certainly shown that Ryu was precious to him. He’d left his crime family, cut off part of his finger, and struggled to change his whole life for Ryu’s sake. “I do know,” he murmured. He dared to reach out and press one of Kiku’s hands between both of his. Thankfully, Kiku didn’t pull away. In fact, he seemed comforted.

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However, looking at his friend’s face now, one thing was painfully clear: Kiku needed Yuzo. It showed in every line of his face, the tired sheen over his skin, the hunch of his broad, powerful shoulders, the longing in his voice when he spoke to Yuzo, either on the phone for real or in his imaginary visits. Yuzo had been able to give him something no one else seemed able to give…something that had been so good for him. They sat there like that, quiet, together. Ryu continued to watch his friend’s face. It seemed that Yuzo’s absence wasn’t helping any of them. If Kiku was suffering this way, they all suffered because they loved him. Could Suzuki’s wrath be any worse than this, really? Kiku bowed his head, his fingers laced with Ryu’s and squeezing gently. Kiku’s mangled finger rubbed Ryu’s skin, reminding him of that horrid task he’d undertaken to free himself from the Suzuki-gumi. And he’d done it mostly for Ryu, so that Ryu wouldn’t succumb to hopelessness and so that his faith in the world’s possible goodness would strengthen. Ryu’s heart squeezed. Kiku was like a magnificent giant who’d been brought to his knees by his own soft heart. And Kiku’s heart was soft, so soft and open that Ryu could see the years of Suzuki’s torment also taking their toll on him. Even before Yuzo had come, Kiku had seemed to slow down in spite of his physical and emotional strength. After watching Suzuki and Kiku’s interactions all these years, Ryu knew something else all too well. Suzuki would torture Kiku in any way he could regardless of whether Yuzo was here or not. If it wasn’t yubizume it was extortion, taunting, the constant pressure of his dangerous presence, which Kiku was forced to tolerate for so many reasons, not the least of which was Kiku’s enduring loyalty to both Ryu’s father and to Taro’s father, Hayao Suzuki. “Ryu-chan.” Kiku lifted his sad gaze. “I’ve never meant to hurt you. That’s the worst part of all.” Ryu looked down. “I know that. I’d feel the same way in your place. I mean, Yuzo is beautiful like Gackt,” he said, referring to the J-Pop star who made everyone’s heart flutter, male and female, including his own. “And he’s as talented.” He’s everything I’m not. Ryu kept that last part to himself, not wanting to sound too childish. To his surprise, Kiku chuckled. “That may be true but you’re not seeing him or yourself clearly.” Ryu felt sheepish. He should have known that Kiku would hear the words in his mind even if he hadn’t said them out loud.

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Kiku’s smile faded. “Ryu, you’re the best of the best.” He reached out and cupped Ryu’s cheek briefly. “I swear that if this whole romance thing had ever been about choice, I would have settled down with you a long time ago.” The admission startled Ryu and he stared a moment at his friend. “Really?” Kiku nodded. “Yes. But it was…out of my control.” Ryu sighed. This he could understand. Given control over his own heart he would have made himself love someone else instead of Kiku when Kiku had made him feel so hurt. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop loving Kiku no matter what. It was only fair to give Kiku the same leniency. Being Kiku’s precious baby would have to be good enough. After all, it was so very, very much. A strange lightness came over Ryu. He smiled, lifted Kiku’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there before holding Kiku’s hand against his cheek. “It’s all right. I understand.” Kiku squeezed his hand again. “You’d better get to bed, my precious friend. We open back up in the morning.” Ryu nodded and released Kiku’s hand. He started to rise but then Kiku pulled him into an embrace. Kiku’s arms were so warm and strong and Ryu ached with missing him, even though he slept in the room right next door every single night. Kiku kissed the side of his head softly and released him. “Get some sleep.” “Okay.” Reluctantly, Ryu rose to his feet and went softly out of the room. The sad, tired look on Kiku’s face haunted his mind as he washed up and got ready for bed. At least when Yuzo was here, Kiku had glowed, in a way he never had, regardless of how hard he worked at his spiritual path. Ryu’s heart thumped with a sudden realization. Maybe one thing didn’t exclude the other. Maybe loving Yuzo and following the White Tiger path were actually, mysteriously, one and the same. Switching off his bedside light, Ryu went to climb into bed and instead, sank down on the edge. His heart beat kicked up a few notches at the thought he had in that moment. Just then, the hallway fell into darkness. Kiku had turned his light off. Ryu’s skin formed goose bumps even though the room was comfortable, not cold. He rose from his bed and fished his phone from the pocket of his pants he’d slung over the low

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chair in his sitting area. Even though he was alone in the room, he padded out and down the back stairs until he was certain to be out of Kiku’s earshot. With a trembling hand, he dialled the number of the cell phone Kiku had given Yuzo. Pressing the phone to his ear, he heard someone click on the other end after the second ring. “Moshi moshi. Kiku-chama, are you all right?” Yuzo sounded sleepy but anxious at the same time. “No Yuzo, it’s me, Ryu.” Pause. “Ryu? Is everything all right? Kiku. Is Kiku okay?” He sounded so worried, so small. Ryu’s heart squeezed as much from the lonely sound of Yuzo’s voice as from what he was about to say. “He’s…he…needs you, Yuzo…chan.” Ryu made himself use the affectionate familiar suffix he would with a friend. Maybe in some strange way, Yuzo already was his friend. “Please, come back.”

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Chapter Thirteen

Yuzo turned the motor off, glided carefully into the alleyway and stopped. Climbing off the bike, he rolled the machine to a spot where the dumpster kept it well hidden. He pulled his bag off the back, took off the helmet and went up to the back door, heart pounding. His entire insides trembled. He felt like he was…coming home. Kiku needs you. Please come back. Ryu’s words still echoed in Yuzo’s mind, as they had the entire ride back to Tokyo. Ryu had been so sure he should come, even though Ryu had the most to suffer from all this. The second they hung up, Yuzo had thrown his things into his bag, settled his bill and jumped on the bike. It had been Ryu’s urgency…well, that and the overwhelming need to see Kiku again. To touch him. To look into his eyes. Ryu answered his knock, as he’d said he would when they talked. Relief spread across the other man’s face. “Yuzo-chan, you’re back safe.” He stood aside and held the door open for him. “Here, let me.” Ryu reached for the helmet so Yuzo could slip off his shoes and hang up his jacket on a wall peg by the door. “Do you need anything?” “No, thank you. Just to see Kiku.” “He’s in his room. He’d gone to bed earlier but now he’s up again. He…hasn’t been sleeping really, since you left. I’m glad you came back so soon.” Yuzo reached out, letting his hand land tentatively on Ryu’s shoulder. “You’re the best, Ryu-chan. I mean it with my whole heart.” Before he lost his nerve, he leaned forward and kissed Ryu’s cheek. Ryu’s cheeks coloured and he looked down. “Welcome back,” he said softly. Yuzo released Ryu’s shoulder and left. The closer he got to Kiku’s room, the more fiercely his heart pounded. Kiku didn’t know he was here. Ryu hadn’t told him so as not to give Kiku a chance to talk him out of coming back. How would Kiku feel? Kiku had missed him. That much was clear when they spoke on the phone, but… As Ryu had said, Kiku was up. The light in his room glowed behind the rice paper screen and Yuzo could make out the shadow of Kiku’s form moving about. Yuzo’s heart gave another hard thump. The scent of Kiku’s incense floated through the air. Yuzo could even hear his footsteps within. The man was so close.

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Yuzo lifted a hand and rapped lightly on the screen. “Come in,” he heard. Yuzo pulled in a deep breath and slid the screen open. Kiku stood by his bed, his back to Yuzo. The larger man was naked except for a towel wrapped around his hips. The air smelled and felt steamy, the way it did after a shower. The soft lighting in the room outlined Kiku’s muscular painted physique and Yuzo immediately felt weak, just looking at him. “Ryu-chan,” Kiku said, turning, “I told you I don’t need…” His gaze locked with Yuzo’s. For several moments, Kiku stared at him, his expression uncertain. “You’ve never come through the door before,” he said. “And you’re dressed. You’re always in the bed.” “Kiku-chama—” “I miss you so, Yuzo-chan, but this taunts me horribly.” Kiku started to move forward and halted, one hand out. “No, I can’t.” There were circles under his eyes. He looked unwell. “You’re in Arida. I miss you so much I’m losing my mind.” Yuzo stepped into the room and closed the screen behind him. “You’re not seeing things, Kiku-chama. I’m here.” No wonder Ryu was worried about his friend. He went right up to Kiku and put his arms around him. Kiku started. He grasped Yuzo’s upper arms as if to push him away and stopped. “Nande?” His dark gaze searched Yuzo’s face. The grip of one hand loosened, releasing his arm. Trembling fingertips stroked one cheek. Yuzo’s eyelids fluttered. He couldn’t help it. Kiku’s touch flooded him with joy. “I’m really here,” he whispered. “I promise.” “Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s voice was a harsh whisper. His arms closed around Yuzo and pulled him close, as if their bodies could fuse together. Kiku’s lips pressed into the curve of Yuzo’s neck and Yuzo tilted his head, eyes closed, smiling like crazy while his hands clutched at Kiku’s strong back. “My sweet little one,” Kiku murmured against Yuzo’s skin. One large hand slipped into Yuzo’s hair, cradling the back of his head while the other smoothed over his back, across his black T-shirt. Yuzo sank against him, breathed in his aroma of musk and soap. Kiku’s skin was velvety from his shower and his back muscles flexed under Yuzo’s hands.

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Suddenly Kiku pulled away, lightly grasping his upper arms. His eyes searched Yuzo’s. “I’m still not sure you’re real. You’ve come to me so many times in the last few days. I’ll think I was sitting here talking to you and then find Ryu shaking me to snap me out of it.” Yuzo frowned. Kiku seemed to have suffered much more from their separation than he’d let on when they talked on the phone, but hallucinating? Ryu hadn’t mentioned that. “I’m real. Ryu asked me to come back. He said you needed me. I left immediately.” Kiku still gazed searchingly into his face. He lifted one hand and smoothed back Yuzo’s hair. “I don’t mean to seem crazy, Yuzo-chan. I’m sorry.” He caressed Yuzo’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m supposed to be so strong, but I’m not always strong. I shouldn’t have let you go. Ryu was right to bring you back.” He tugged Yuzo close again and kissed the top of his head. Guilt squeezed in Yuzo’s chest. Had he done this to Kiku? “I’m sorry. You wanted me to stay longer. I should have listened.” “It doesn’t matter anymore, little one. Just don’t leave again.” “I won’t.” That was a promise to both of them. Yuzo hugged him close. The warm press of Kiku’s large hands into his back made him sink even more firmly against the man’s broad chest. Just touching Kiku again made him feel like everything would be okay, even though it wasn’t. Not with Suzuki out there. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly. “Good thing,” Kiku said, his breath fanning Yuzo’s hair. “Because I’m not.” Kiku pulled back just enough to lean in and kiss Yuzo’s mouth. “Mmm,” Kiku sighed against his lips. He slid his tongue against Yuzo’s, back and forth and around in erotic swirls of moist heat. Yuzo palmed Kiku’s broad back. His front melted against Kiku’s and his eyes fluttered closed. This was heaven. The only place he ever wanted to be. Ever again. Kiku’s dragon pressed like a rod of iron against his lower belly, as if there weren’t a towel and Yuzo’s pants blocking it. Never lifting his mouth from their kiss, Kiku pulled them more tightly together, rocking his hips just enough to send licks of heat straight through Yuzo’s dragon, all the way to the tip. It reared up, pushing against his pants, wanting to get to Kiku. The kiss seemed to last a long time before Kiku pulled away and gazed down at him, his dark eyes simmering. “You are real,” he breathed in that husky voice he got when he was fully aroused. He leaned in and buried his face in Yuzo’s hair. Yuzo felt Kiku’s chest rise against his with the deep inhalation he took. “I can smell you. You smell so good.” His voice

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was nearly a whisper now. He breathed in again. “I couldn’t smell you before, in my imaginings. I couldn’t taste you.” Before Yuzo could answer, Kiku lowered his mouth to Yuzo’s again and kissed him deeply. A long time seemed to pass with their mouths pressed hotly together. When Kiku finally broke the kiss, he continued to shower small kisses over Yuzo’s lips and cheeks. “I told you so many times I love you,” Kiku breathed, “Just before you’d disappear.” His hands clutched at Yuzo’s shirt, yanking it from his jeans and up. Yuzo lifted his arms so Kiku could pull the shirt off and toss it away. Kiku took hold of his shoulders. “I never said it to you when we spoke on the phone. Not once and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel…chained.” Yuzo pulled in a breath and stepped closer, his heart racing. “You love me?” The thing he’d hoped for, desired, ached for in his wildest dreams. Now, he wondered if he were the one hallucinating. Kiku’s hands slid from his shoulders to cradle his upper back. The movement brought them closer. “Isn’t it obvious, little one?” He palmed the taller man’s broad chest, looking at the contrast of his own pale hands against the swirling colours on Kiku’s skin. “Yes. You have nothing to be sorry about, Kikuchama. I didn’t say it either, even though I wanted to, so much. I said it only in my mind.” Kiku’s expression darkened again. “Why? Because of the lies Suzuki told you? Do you believe you haven’t loved me?” Yuzo’s vision blurred. The stinging feeling in his eyes made him realise he was close to tears. “I…I don’t know. I mean…I hope I have.” Kiku’s hands skated over his back. His touch left a tingling trail in its wake. “Why don’t you ask me if you’ve loved me?” Yuzo stared up at him. “Have I?” A smile curved the other man’s lips. “Part of love is appreciation,” he said softly. One hand slid down Yuzo’s spine, a slow path that teased his skin in the most incredible way. “Another part is desire, and yet another, the feeling that the beloved can do no wrong. I feel all these things from you.” He pressed a kiss into Yuzo’s hair. “There are other things that take longer,” he murmured, resting a cheek against Yuzo’s head. “Such as enduring friendship, a bond that can only bend but never, ever break. The understanding between two people that runs deeper than time, deeper than the finite body.”

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Yuzo understood. The kind of bond Kiku shared with Ryu. A blind man could see that bond between the two of them. It was something that could include romantic love, but could exist without it. The kind of bond he wanted with his whole heart to build with Kiku. “Only time can prove whether those things are there,” Kiku went on. “However…” He leaned back and tilted Yuzo’s face up with a gentle fingertip under his chin. Kiku’s eyes smouldered down at him. The look in them sent a lightning bolt of heat through Yuzo’s body, right down to his toes. “Enough talking for now. One minute was too long to have been apart.” He traced Yuzo’s bottom lip with his thumb. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” Yuzo nodded. Just the touch across his bottom lip gave him that brain-melting feeling, the one that made his entire body tingle and tighten and whipped away the capacity for thought. He reached up and caressed Kiku’s chest. There was nothing in the entire world quite like that man’s chest. Broad and powerful, it rose and fell under his searching hand. Several fingertips brushed over one nipple. The small, dark brown disk pebbled immediately and Kiku groaned as intensely as if Yuzo had stroked his thick dragon. Hmm. This was a part of his lover he hadn’t yet explored. He leaned forward and kissed the hard tip. Kiku groaned again. His muscular body stilled in Yuzo’s arms except for the deep rise and fall of his breath. Kiku seemed especially sensitive here and Yuzo intended to make the most of his newfound discovery. He closed in again and covered Kiku’s nipple with his lips, then feathered his tongue over it, back and forth. Eyes closed, he appreciated the puckered texture and light musky flavour. “Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s voice was a harsh whisper and his hands laced into Yuzo’s hair. The man’s dragon, thick and hard, pushed with its entire fullness against Yuzo’s abdomen. Yuzo gave his attention fully to his task while his hands slid down that broad back, around those narrow hips where the folds of the towel could be loosened. Whoosh. The towel dropped to the floor, baring that delicious dragon. Thick and veined, it stood out from Kiku’s body, just waiting for Yuzo to close his hand around it and rub. Which he did, stroking the reddish shaft while he slid his tongue across Kiku’s chest to the other nipple. Damn, he tasted so amazingly good! Kiku whispered his name several more times and his fingers trembled against Yuzo’s scalp. It was obvious the man was loving this and Yuzo felt a wave of power sweep through

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him. He’d thought of himself only as a passive being, a warm body that served as a vessel of pleasure for the partner, only doing what that person wanted of him. But what did he want? He wanted to taste Kiku everywhere, to hear him moan when Yuzo tasted those parts of him that he was drawn to. Yuzo started to drop to his knees, letting his tongue drag down the centre of Kiku’s stomach. Kiku groaned loudly. He didn’t object, didn’t try to pull Yuzo’s head this way or that, but accepted gratefully what Yuzo was doing to him. Yuzo smiled against Kiku’s warm colourful skin. Kiku could let Yuzo take control this way because he was strong. Kiku was real. He was a man. Kiku’s hands remained laced in Yuzo’s hair as he made his descent. When he reached his knees, Yuzo palmed Kiku’s buttocks. The power in them flexed against his hands. Yuzo squeezed, drawing closer to the thick hard dragon only inches from his lips. The scent of soap still emanated from Kiku’s skin. Yuzo closed his eyes, breathing in the fragrance, teasing himself, teasing Kiku by letting his breath pulse warmly onto the shaft of Kiku’s jade stalk. “Yuzo-chan, please.” Yuzo looked up. Was Kiku begging him? Kiku’s face was dark, flushed, his lips parted, breath panting. “Please, what?” “Please…don’t tease me.” Yuzo grinned. “All right.” He leaned in and ran the tip of his tongue up Kiku’s dragon, from the base to the tip, earning another loud groan. “Dammit, you said you wouldn’t tease.” Kiku’s hands were tense in his hair and he could feel Kiku’s control, his refusal to yank his lover’s head closer. Yuzo squeezed Kiku’s ass cheeks and then slid his hands down the backs of Kiku’s powerful thighs. “I’m sorry, Kiku-chama. I couldn’t help it. You make me feel so…safe.” Before Kiku could answer, Yuzo slid his hands to Kiku’s hips and bid him to sit on the edge of the bed where he could kneel between Kiku’s thighs. When he looked back down, a glistening pearl of moisture beaded on the tip of Kiku’s dragon. Yuzo leaned over, palmed the shaft and licked up the droplet, savouring it like he’d savoured Basho’s soup. That taste made him wild. This time when he leaned over, he swallowed up Kiku’s dragon for real, sucked it deep into his mouth. Kiku’s groans spiralled in his ears.

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“Kiku-sensei, are you all right?” Naoto’s voice on the other side of the soji screen cut through Yuzo’s erotic haze. He pulled back, letting Kiku’s dragon slip from his mouth. “I’m fine, Naoto-chan.” Kiku’s voice was tight, yet slightly husky. “He’s all right, Nao-chan,” Yuzo heard Ryu say. “Come on and I’ll tell you what’s happened.” Their voices receded down the hall. Kiku laughed, that deep rich laugh that sent thrills through Yuzo’s whole body. “They’re not used to me making so much noise.” Yuzo joined him in laughing. He felt so happy, so free and so…home. When their laughter died down, Kiku reached forward and grasped Yuzo’s elbows. “Please, come up here. I want you on top of me.” He urged Yuzo up so he could unbutton his jeans and slip everything off, underwear and all. Kiku’s eyes immediately smouldered as his gaze roved over Yuzo’s exposed dragon. “Yuzo-chan,” he whispered. His large hands cupped Yuzo’s ass and gently tugged him closer, so close that Kiku’s breath pulsed warmly on his cock. Just that caress of warm air thrilled him. “Is this what you want, Yuzo-chan? You tell me,” he said and skimmed his fingertips down the length of Yuzo’s dragon. Yuzo pulled in a breath and tilted his head back. How could he want anything else? “Yes,” he breathed. “Good. We want the same thing.” Kiku scooted up so that his back was against the wealth of pillows he kept on his bed. He reached for the oil and drizzled some into one palm. His hand went to his jutting dragon and he smoothed the oil up and down its length in smooth strokes. Yuzo watched, mesmerised. The sight made his blood pound hot through every inch of his body. Kiku gazed at him, his face darkly flushed. “Please, come here, Yuzo-chan.” As if in a trance, Yuzo climbed onto the bed and crept forward on his hands and knees, not stopping until he straddled Kiku’s hips. Kiku’s hands immediately landed onto the tops of Yuzo’s thighs and then slid up to his hips. “Yes,” he breathed. “I want to be inside you.” Gentle pressure urged Yuzo up so that the head of Kiku’s oiled dragon poked at his entrance.

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The small touch alone sent a shiver of want through him. He pushed down, letting pressure open him, stretch him. He pulled in a breath. One tight pleasure pinch as the smooth head penetrated the ring of muscles in his opening. Another smooth glide of delicious hardness and Kiku’s dragon filled him, all the way until their bodies met. A grin stretched Kiku’s lips and his eyelids half-covered his simmeringly dark eyes. His hands stroked Yuzo’s hips and thighs. “I love you, Yuzo-chan,” he breathed in a tight whisper. Yuzo rose up and slid down, pulling a gasp of delight from his lover. “I love you too.” He braced his hands on Kiku’s broad shoulders and began a steady rhythm. Kiku groaned with each slide of his ass up and down. Yuzo leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Hungrily he tasted Kiku’s lips and tongue. He felt gloriously happy, soaring…free. No matter what happened with Suzuki, if he could be here, like this, with Kiku, he could face anything. “Yuzo-chan,” Kiku whispered. His large hands slid across Yuzo’s chest, rubbing his nipples in tiny circles. The sensation was incredible, like an invisible string of heated pleasure that connected to his dragon, his balls and to the point of contact where Kiku’s dragon filled his tight passage. His consciousness distilled down to these feelings, to the searing pleasure overtaking his body. All that existed were the heat and scent of Kiku’s hard body, the thick dragon filling him, and the love soaring through his heart. He squeezed tight, riding Kiku harder and harder, drawing the nectar of Kiku’s yang higher and higher until the hot gush filled him and Kiku was groaning, his body stiff and helpless in Yuzo’s grip. Kiku fell back against the pillows, his broad chest heaving. He reached out and palmed Yuzo’s cock. His hand, still slick from the oil, glided easily up and down the hard length. Kiku was skilled and precise, knowing exactly the most sensitive spots, just under the head and around the base. Yuzo tilted his head back, now unable to move under the incredible massage. “You like that, Yuzo-chan?” “Yes,” he whispered. “Good. Come for me, little one. I want your yang cloud all over me.” He stroked evenly as he spoke, his voice like seductive music, coaxing his climax to build, stroke by stroke, word by word. “Your yin soothes my soul,” Kiku went on in that low velvety voice he had. “It calms my fears and eases my trembling. Only you do that for me, Yuzo-chan.”

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As if the words had heightened the caress, Yuzo felt a burst of pressure, the pleasure so intense it nearly sent him vaulting off Kiku’s hips. The waves continued, one after the other, making him groan and gasp. From the haze of his consciousness he could see the milky cloud erupting onto Kiku’s chest, just as Kiku had wanted. Kiku stroked him until there was no more and he slumped over, his face buried in the curve of Kiku’s neck. Kiku’s large hands slid up his back and cradled him. He heaved a large breath. “This is how we should stay, Yuzo-chan,” he said softly, close to Yuzo’s ear. “No matter what happens. Do you understand?” Slowly, Yuzo lifted himself up, just enough to look down into Kiku’s face. The other man’s eyes gazed up at him. The look itself nearly vaulted Yuzo back into heaven. He nodded. “Yes, Kiku-chama. I understand.”

**** Six weeks later… “Hello, little prince.” Suzuki was looking at him with that scowl he had. That look was more terrifying than any Noh mask Yuzo had ever seen. He began shivering, unable to answer Suzuki’s greeting. The yak continued to stare at him, conveying without words the terrible crime Yuzo had committed against him… Yuzo jerked awake with a hard breath. He panted for several moments before growing aware of his surroundings. Kiku’s soft luxurious bed, the morning light filtering through the blinds. Kiku’s muscular body cradling him from behind. Kiku stirred. The erection he woke up with every morning pushed into the crevice of Yuzo’s ass. But even that pleasurable movement couldn’t dispel the creepy feeling that remained from the dream. A large hand slid up Yuzo’s back and cupped his shoulder. Warm, soft lips brushed over the nape of Yuzo’s neck. They’d begun their days like this each morning since Yuzo had come back from Arida. Even when Yuzo briefly took over full cooking duties for Basho who’d been miraculously reunited with his long lost lover, Timothy, and took some time off, Kiku always made a point of snuggling with him before they left the bed even though Yuzo had to get up a couple of hours earlier than usual.

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Normally, Yuzo melted immediately against Kiku, but the tension of his nightmare remained, clenching his body. He often awoke from that image of Suzuki, but this morning, it felt extra…weird. Maybe being in close proximity to Kiku night and day was rubbing off. Maybe he’d end up as psychic as Kiku. “What’s the matter, Yuzo-chan?” Kiku breathed against his skin. “Are you suddenly immune to my seduction?” Kiku’s voice was playful, a quality that had emerged in him during the last six weeks. Yuzo pressed into him. The mere heat from Kiku’s body made him feel safe. “Not at all. I just had one of those…dreams.” “Ah. Well, let me see if I can comfort you.” Kiku turned him over and half-covered him. He gazed down, his eyes simmering with the most potent blend of affection and desire. He caressed Yuzo’s hair back. “Each day that passes I’m more grateful for you,” he said softly. Yuzo’s heart thumped. He wondered how many people had a lover who said such things to them all the time. Not many, he guessed. He was the luckiest person in the world. “I feel the same way, Kiku-chama.” Kiku had not only taken Yuzo into his heart, he’d made him completely a part of this place. Yuzo couldn’t imagine now how he’d survived anywhere else. Even the time he now spent cleaning and scrubbing, polishing floors, was as important to him as the meditation, English lessons, cooking and becoming part of a group of friends who cared deeply about each other. Kiku grinned and surged against him. He passed his hand over Yuzo’s chest, igniting a spark with a rub over his nipple. “Now, that said, let’s get back to the comforting.”

**** “Shimatta.” Suzuki surveyed Yuzo’s room from his position in the doorway, saké bottle in hand. The cleaning lady had put the place back in order weeks ago, shortly after he’d pulled it apart and the small bedroom sat in a weird kind of stillness, as if it too, were waiting for Yuzo to come back. This had always been the time of night when he’d finished business for the day and would come in here, looking forward to getting his hands on Yuzo’s sweet body. Skimming his hands over those lean muscles and perfect skin, smelling Yuzo’s hair—for a little while he could forget all the other shit. No one else could ever make him forget it all the way Yuzo

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could. The kid didn’t even have to try. It was like an energy inside him that just radiated some kind of opiate for the mind and soul. Little bastard. The words echoed through Suzuki’s mind as he wandered in and stood by the bed, pulled by some force inside him. Why he was even fucking bothering, he couldn’t begin to imagine. But instead of leaving, he closed his eyes and stood there, the way a blind man might stand and listen to his surroundings as if to learn from them or to hear what might be happening. Mistake. All Suzuki could feel was his own expectancy, the moronic hope he’d been harbouring that the twerp would come to his senses and realise what he had here. Not that he wouldn’t be punished for the drugging thing if he did come back. That had just been over the top. An act of a woman. Not even something a yak would do. Suzuki huffed and took a swig from his bottle. He swallowed, relishing the particularly dry bite saké had over other booze. The drink of samurai, yakuza, peasant and emperor alike. He hovered over the bed, looking down at the scene of the crime, his rage igniting. He took another sip of saké, then another. And another. But none of it could quell the storm inside him when he looked at that bed, remembering. At age thirty, he’d found Ryu. At forty, Yuzo. Both now out of his reach. What, was he supposed to wait another ten fucking years for the next one? Maybe twenty? Or thirty? Suzuki lifted the bottle to fling it against the dresser mirror, then paused. He plunked the nearly empty bottle onto the bedside table and sank down on the bed. Perhaps he’d made a mistake with Ryu. He shouldn’t have frightened him even though he’d only been trying to show the kid a good time. How else was he going to get the guy’s attention? For years, Ryu had ignored every friendly gesture he made. And if Ryu hadn’t wanted action, he shouldn’t have walked through the living room where all his father’s wakashu were hanging out, waiting for their boss to return, wearing only a pair of boxers and a T-shirt that hugged his slim, hot little body like a second skin. Suzuki remembered watching Ryu go into the kitchen, take a drink of water and head back to his bedroom, barely giving him and the others a passing glance, as if they were bums littering an alleyway. If Fuju had been there, Ryu would have lingered, would have given Fuju that sparkling smile he had, as if seeing a god before him. Ryu had always worshiped the guy. True, Fuju had been hot himself back in those days. Before becoming a religious weirdo with a shaved head, Kikuchiya had worn dark, tailor-made suits that showed off his

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broad-shouldered stance to perfection and had a thick head of black glossy hair he kept slicked back. Men and women alike had fallen at Kiku’s feet. The man had had it all and then had given it up like it all meant nothing while Suzuki scratched and struggled without promotion even though his own father was the main boss. He’d achieved his current position only because of the absence Fuju left behind. Suzuki sighed. He kept forgetting what babies these kids were. Ryu might have grown up after what happened, might even have decided he’d enjoyed it. But not after Fuju got his hands on the kid. Fuju kept Ryu a baby all these years when Ryu could have become a real man. Yuzo was a baby, too, although Suzuki had managed to grow him up a bit. He’d needed more time. Good thing Fuju didn’t have— Suzuki sat up. A funny feeling tickled in his gut. He might have thought it was the saké but something told him it wasn’t. “Where did you go, little prince?” he murmured. His mind followed a trail it had covered a million times since Yuzo had left, but the trail had always come to a dead end. He’d been through the White Tiger himself, gun in hand. Fuju had even let him search the place himself when Fuju had been alone, well, except for that burned, crippled cook in the kitchen who’d stared at him as if he’d been the one who’d done those things to him. Yuzo hadn’t been anywhere in the White Tiger. If he had, Suzuki would have known. He’d have smelled the guy, tasted his touch in the soup he’d sampled. Suzuki’s gaze roved across the room again. This time, though, his eye was captured by the colourful covers of the graphic novels lining on Yuzo’s bookshelf. Even the spines of those things were eye catching. And Yuzo had devoured them, one after the other. He was never without one in his hand. Suzuki chuckled wryly, remembering how he used to tease Yuzo about putting his manga down long enough to screw. The tickle in his gut deepened. He rose, walked over to the shelf and picked up one of the books, flipping through it. What he expected to find, he didn’t know. But for some reason, he hadn’t thought to look at these books for some clue into Yuzo’s mind. This one was nothing exciting, one of those yaoi stories that showed beautiful men having sex, naked bodies entwined. Yuzo was a sucker for those romantic epic things. The betrayal, the eternal passion and all that. Suzuki huffed. As if.

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He set the book on top of the row and reached for another, the next volume of the series he’d just looked at. As he did so, something slipped out and tapped the top of his foot before ending up on the rug. He bent over to retrieve it. And froze. He stared at the glossy folded pamphlet in his hand, which now began to shake. A brochure from the White Tiger. His entire body clenched. Was this fucking possible? When had Yuzo gotten his grubby little hands on this? Suzuki looked at the brochure again, seeing more. The paper was worn, the edges frayed as if it had been read and handled many times. There was a section on meditation and the basic tenets of the White Tiger path, shit about yin and yang, the crap that Fuju was into. Had Yuzo actually been studying this trash on the sly? Is that why the kid was such a master at blow jobs? Some little actress he was. Had his intuition been correct all this time? Is that where Yuzo had run to? Suzuki crumpled the glossy pages until his knuckles turned white. Yuzo definitely hadn’t been there when Suzuki had searched the place, but… He stormed out of the room to the kitchen. As usual, the assholes who worked for him were there with their fucking cards and guns on the table. They jumped up at the sight of him, eyes wide, like they had the morning Yuzo disappeared. Heat simmered under Suzuki’s collar and sweat now poured under his armpits and down his back. “Did you know?” he spat. “Know what, Suzuki-sama?” Chibe was trembling and sweat gleamed suddenly on his brow. “About this.” He flung the brochure at the beefy moron who caught the fluttering paper as if trying to capture a butterfly that finally got trapped between his palms. Suzuki watched both men look at the paper in confusion while he worked not to fly into a blind rage. He’d end up filling both of them with bullets if he did. “Yuzo,” he said, his tone befitting the idiots they were. “He was there.” “But…but…we searched the whole place. You were there, you saw.” “I didn’t say he was there now.” Although…Fuju had a nasty habit of hiding his precious boys away at times in places unknown. Chibe and Miyagi’s blank stares irritated the hell out of him. “We’re going there. Now.” Out in the car, he slammed the door shut and sat, fuming. He imagined twisting Fuju’s neck with his bare hands and watching the life drain out of him. He imagined shooting all of

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Fuju’s precious boys, including the little prince. There was only one he’d spare, and that one would have no choice but to go with him. But, of course, if Suzuki did that, his father would have him killed and thrown into the Sumida River in pieces for it. The old man would never allow the Suzuki-gumi to come under that kind of public exposure. However, within his limits, there were other things he could do to punish Fuju for this latest insult. Suzuki spent the rest of the car ride to the White Tiger calming himself enough to think creatively. An opportunity to get near Ryu was certainly presenting itself, and being out of control would not get him what he wanted. When Chibe pulled the car up to the curb at the White Tiger and Miyagi opened the door for him, Suzuki took a deep breath and stepped out onto the street. By the time he was halfway up the walk, he was nearly smiling. Yes, punishment was meted out much more effectively when calm. This day was turning out much better than he’d planned.

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Chapter Fourteen

Energy prickled suddenly over the back of Kiku’s hands and up his arms. The eerie force funnelled down his spine, forcing him to straighten in his desk chair. He waited a moment, letting the nature of the energy seep in to be identified. Suzuki. Too wild, after Yuzo’s particularly intense nightmare this morning. Even lovemaking had barely comforted him. Then the knowledge came. Suzuki knew. He’d figured out the truth. And he was on his way over. “Shimatta.” “Kiku-chama?” Yuzo’s voice made him look across his desk to where Yuzo sat, keeping him company after cleaning up from supper. Beside him in the other chair, Naoto straightened, immediately on alert. “Kiku-sensei, what is it?” “He knows,” Kiku said to them. “Naoto, take Yuzo upstairs and watch him. Ryu is up there. Tell him to stay away from my office. There’s no time to get them out of here.” “Right away.” Naoto stood and began to usher Yuzo out of the office. But Yuzo rose and stood firm. “Let me stay with you.” Guilt clouded his eyes. “No.” Kiku made his voice growl. “Absolutely not. I’ll give Naoto permission to carry you if you refuse to go with him. Don’t think I won’t do it.” He started to rise from his chair, disturbed at the potential he had to be threatening, but also determined. He’d always been that way when his desperation to protect met any resistance. A look of defiance slipped through Yuzo’s eyes before they softened. “Please, Kikuchama. It’s my fault.” Kiku pointed towards the door, which Naoto had already slipped open. “This isn’t about fault. Go. Now.” Yuzo still hesitated. “Naoto—” Naoto stepped towards Yuzo, but Yuzo relented. “All right.” He bowed his head and followed Naoto out.

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Kiku gripped the arms of his chair. Why couldn’t the prick have come during the day when Ryu was at the gym? Naoto left the screen open, Kiku knew, to make certain Suzuki went in there, rather than making himself visible to any one of the three guests who were currently in the building. And none too soon. Seconds later, Kiku glanced at the security monitor in time to see Suzuki walking away from his car, illegally parked, of course, at the curb. The yak approached the glass doors, flanked by his two goons. Pulling in a deep breath, Kiku went to the front vestibule and left the soji screen open, deliberately diverting Suzuki to his office. It worked. In moments, Suzuki appeared in his doorway, the goons behind him, all of them wearing their shoes. The gesture of disrespect was the least of his problems. He stood firm in front of his desk. “What can I—” “Cut the shit, Fuju. You know why we’re here.” The yak came to a halt a couple of feet in front of him, but close enough that Kiku could see the flecks of colour in Suzuki’s dark irises and the mottled appearance of his skin from the flush of angry yang force. He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. Kiku’s blood ran cold. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps Suzuki was enraged enough to throw the rest of his career away in order to get the ultimate revenge. Good thing he kept his Last Will and Testament locked in the drawer of his desk. He’d arranged everything, knowing there could be a moment like this. In addition to inheriting the apartment in Yokohama that Kiku’s mother lived in, Ryu would own this place too. Naoto and the others would always have a home here if they chose, and an even share of all profits. Suzuki’s hand came out. Kiku blinked. He held, not a gun, but a piece of paper. Relief prickled through him. Then Kiku recognised what it was. The brochure to the White Tiger. “I found this in Yuzo’s room. He’d been hiding it in one of his books.” Suzuki narrowed his eyes and flung the brochure at Kiku. The paper drifted to the floor. “But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?” Kiku held Suzuki’s cold, shark-like gaze. He’d be damned before he’d show Suzuki fear. Yes, Suzuki was going to deliver his sentence for the crime against him, but Suzuki would never have the satisfaction of instilling fear in him. And he would never, ever, have Ryu.

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“No, Suzuki,” he murmured. “You don’t.” Suzuki continued to fix him with his scowl, so often used, the lines around his mouth made the expression permanent. “I’ve put the picture together now. Let me see. Yuzo drugged me, climbed down the balcony, and ran through the streets in his underwear to your door. You and your do-gooder dick-whipped boys took him in. You fucked his little ass, maybe sucked his cock a few times then sent him on his way. Or hid him somewhere else. Which was why he wasn’t here the night I showed up and searched.” “He insisted on leaving, Suzuki. He was gone in less than two days and didn’t say where he was going.” Suzuki slapped him across his cheek. Hard. Kiku’s head snapped to the side but he righted himself, ignoring the flush of pain and continued to stare at the other man. “Like I would believe you,” Suzuki hissed. “Nor does it matter. I don’t even give a shit if he’s still here or not.” “Suzuki-san.” Ryu’s voice in the doorway made Kiku turn. Suzuki turned too, and Kiku restrained himself from lunging forward and grabbing the yak. Ryu stood between Suzuki’s goons. His eyes were wide and fear glazed his expression, but he also looked determined not to bolt. In his hands, he held something white. Kiku’s gut lurched. Suzuki’s shirt. Cleaned, pressed and folded. Ryu must have taken it from Naoto and done this. Ryu lifted his hands towards Suzuki, as if the shirt were an offering he was making at a temple altar. He bowed his head. “Here is your shirt,” he said softly. “Ryu, stay back.” Kiku’s heart pounded fiercely. If there hadn’t been guns in the scenario, he would have already tackled Suzuki. He inched forward towards Ryu. Ryu looked at him pleadingly. “Kiku-chan, I want to end this.” Those words touched off an icy shiver down Kiku’s spine. “Not this way. Get back.” “Let the man say what he wants,” Suzuki said. “You’re keeping him a boy. Keep him a boy and then he’ll hang around so you can play with him whenever you want, right? That’s your tactic, Fuju, I’m sure.” Suzuki stepped forward and took his shirt from Ryu’s hands. The yak’s movement was surprisingly gentle. “Ryu-chan, you’re much better mannered than any of the others here. Don’t you see you’re wasting your life?”

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Ryu didn’t answer but his large-eyed gaze, innocence tinged with suspicion and fear, remained glued on Suzuki. Ryu’s tension crackled through the room. He was only a few feet from Kiku but he might as well have been on the other side of a mountain, he seemed so far away. Every muscle in Kiku’s body tensed, like wires coiled into a spring. If Suzuki so much as laid a finger on Ryu, fuck the guns. “You could have everything, Ryu-chan,” Suzuki went on. “You think success is becoming a top fighter? A piece of meat is all you are. You could win every fight you ever have and once you’re done, you’re gone, forgotten. Ask your father about that. But I could give you the world.” He handed the clean shirt to Chibe then turned back to Ryu. The yak had a wide smile, that oily, crooked look he got when something he really wanted was in front of him but required caution on his part to acquire. “Ryu-chan, listen to me. Throw your next fight. Don’t mess up that pretty face. Leave it all. I can give you whatever you want. Whenever you want.” Ryu’s bottom lip trembled but he stood firm even though Kiku knew he wanted to turn and run away. Since Ryu was a little boy Suzuki had terrified him. For good reason. “I’ve never meant you offense, Suzuki-san. I swear. No one here has.” Ryu’s voice held a touch of pleading and Kiku’s heart lurched. “Don’t ask me to give up my career.” Suzuki frowned. “You mean to tell me you enjoy getting your face bashed in?” Ryu cleared his throat. “I like it well enough, Suzuki-san.” Truth was, Ryu really didn’t like it, but saw it as his chance to make himself stronger, unafraid, invulnerable to anyone who would ever try to harm him the way Suzuki had. Ryu was a lover and really only wanted to find a partner to settle down with. But neither of them would ever confess such things to Suzuki. The yak was quiet for several moments. Astonishingly, his qi had softened in Ryu’s presence. “Well then, we could talk about it more the next time I come here. You’ll spend some time with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you, Ryu. Is that so much to ask?” Ryu opened his mouth but Kiku lunged, placing himself between Ryu and Suzuki, his hands squeezed into fists. “That’s enough! Ryu, don’t answer him. You owe him nothing.” He leaned towards Suzuki, ignoring the clicks of guns coming from the goons behind him. He knew they wouldn’t dare shoot because if something happened to Ryu, Suzuki would cut off their cocks and stuff them down their throats. “I know you’re angry at me, but this has nothing to do with Ryu. Give me your punishment and be done with it.”

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Ryu’s hand pressed into his back. “Kiku-chan, please don’t—” “Ryu, hush.” Suzuki shook his head. “Keeping him a baby. You keep them all babies until all they’re capable of is hiding in this place and sucking a cock now and then for money. Really, Fuju. It’s disgusting.” “Shut up and pronounce your judgment.” Yang heat crackled through his entire body, the way it used to in his days as a yak and he’d had to confront one slimy gangster after the next. Suzuki’s grin faded and his eyes steeled again. “All right. Yubizume in ten days and you let me see Ryu when I come here.” Kiku glared at him. “Why ten days? Why not right now? You can take the finger piece with you and be done with it.” The sword he’d use was locked in a chest of drawers, right here in this office. Behind him he felt Ryu’s energy shift to a frantic pitch in spite of his quiet demeanour. Suzuki chuckled. “Always looking for the easy way out, aren’t you, Fuju?” He wagged a finger. “No. No. No,” he added in a sing song voice. “This situation gives you a chance to learn something, to reflect and anticipate, to see the nuances of every thought and feeling you have.” His eyes narrowed again. “This will give your little prince a chance to understand the consequences of his actions. He’ll probably end up hurting you too, only you’d let him get away with it because you’re a fucking sap.” He reached out and pinched Kiku’s cheek. “Look what he’s done for Ryu. Taken him even further away from your bed and closer to me.” Adrenaline made the tiny squeeze of pain disappear into the roiling melt of anger churning Kiku’s gut and chest. “Get out,” he said between clenched teeth. It was bad enough Suzuki used the bath and massage rooms a couple of times a month. His presence had poisoned the White Tiger more than enough in the past few weeks. Suzuki glared at him. “Ten days, Fuju-baka. And don’t try your shit. My patience has worn thin.” His glance flicked over to Ryu and back. “Neither of us is getting any younger. If you really want this to end, don’t be an asshole.” He shook his head. “Then again, you can’t help yourself, can you, Fuju?” Kiku took a deep breath. Anger was clouding his mind, making it difficult to remember not to engage Suzuki in a pissing contest for the last word. His one concern now was the man

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standing behind him, his loyal, vulnerable friend who’d been willing to give himself to his rapist in order to make peace. Ryu was breathing raggedly and he could feel the younger man’s body heat soaking into his back as Ryu pressed closer to him. “You can protect little Ryu as much as you want,” Suzuki said. “I know you tell yourself that I’ll never have him. But that’s just another one of the lies you depend on to get through the day.” He gestured towards Ryu. “Ryu is intelligent, though. He’ll figure things out eventually.” Suzuki peered around Kiku. “See you soon, Ryu-chan.” He signalled to his goons and left. With his fists still clenched at his sides, Kiku stared up at the security monitor, making sure Suzuki really left and got back into his car. As soon as that happened, Kiku swung around and pulled Ryu into his arms, holding him as tightly as he dared without crushing him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Ryu’s wiry body trembled and he felt Ryu’s arms around him, hands fisting the back of his shirt. He hugged Ryu close. If only he never had to let him go. He’d have taken Ryu inside himself, protecting him forever if he could. Ryu was too good and sweet to be subjected to such filth. He was too good for this world. If Kiku had had a son of his own, he couldn’t imagine him being any more precious to him than Ryu. Only then did he hear Ryu mumbling something, muffled by the way his face was pressed into Kiku’s chest. Kiku held him gently away. “What is it, baby?” Ryu’s full lower lip was trembling and his eyes, though misted over, were also dark in the way they were when he was full of self-reproach. “You should have let me—” “Let you what? Touch him? Give him your body? Fuck no.” Anger surged again, so hot, it nearly blinded him. He slid his hands to Ryu’s shoulders and held him in a gentle but firm grip. In his own way, Ryu could be as stubborn as Suzuki. Maybe even more so. “You must ignore everything he says. He has a way of burrowing into a man’s weak spots and gouging them. You should know that.” He was about to scold Ryu for coming downstairs in the first place. But when he stared down into Ryu’s face, the words froze. He couldn’t do it, especially not when his gaze connected with Ryu’s. In this moment, what he saw was not the twenty-seven-year-old man who was a professional boxer, but the seventeen year-old kid, trembling and terrified on his bed, clinging to Kiku just after Kiku ran Suzuki out of his room.

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“Kiku…” A tear rolled down Ryu’s cheek. “Your hand. How dangerous is it a second time?” Kiku sighed. His memory flashed back to the pain of that moment years ago, the horrifying moment of bringing the sword blade down on his finger. It had hurt like fucking hell. And the blood. But it had been absolutely worth it. Ryu had been worth it. Ryu’s sanity, his knowledge that someone cared enough about him to make such sacrifices. And it had worked. Ryu’s life had turned around. He stopped feeling suicidal. He started winning fights and moving up in the WBA rankings. And he had stopped getting his yakuza-patterned tattoos. What about Yuzo, though? Was he worth it? Kiku barely knew him and had fallen hard for him. For all Kiku knew, Yuzo could be completely faking everything. He was, after all, nephew to a professional actor who’d obviously taught him many of the life skills he had. However, there was no denying the light in Yuzo’s eyes when Yuzo looked up at him. The trust that shone from them. Nor could Kiku deny the spiritual heights to which he soared each time their yin and yang mixed. Yuzo couldn’t fake that either. Yuzo was a golden man. And he’d worked hard to fit in here, to show Kiku and the others they hadn’t made a mistake in helping him. Was Yuzo also worth the second cut? Absolutely. He leaned over, kissed Ryu’s forehead, then ruffled a hand through that hot pink hair. “Truthfully, I don’t know how dangerous it is. But samurai did it for centuries and survived. And they didn’t have the quality of hospitals that we have now.” Now with Koji here, they could get immediately into the emergency room if necessary. Koji was the man who kept the computer system running at Meiji Memorial. “Come,” he said before Ryu could answer. He just couldn’t bear for Ryu to try and talk him out of this. “I need to check on Yuzo.” He did not relish telling excitable, guilt-ridden Yuzo about Suzuki’s punishment. Unlike Ryu who understood how lightly they’d really gotten off, Yuzo would very likely be freaked. Back upstairs, Kiku slid open the screen to his room. Yuzo was perched on the edge of the bed with Koji sitting next to him as if keeping watch. Yuzo’s eyes widened and he rose, stepping forward, but Naoto immediately jumped up from the sitting area, his expression frantic. “Kiku-sensei, I tried to stop Ryu but—”

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Kiku stopped him with a hand up. “It’s all right, Nao-chan. You had your hands more than full with these two.” He reached out to Yuzo and lightly grasped the man’s shoulders. Yuzo was trembling also and tiny lines ringed his eyes. Ryu slipped around them and went up to Naoto, his head bowed. “I’m sorry, Naotochan. I…I had to go.” He started shaking again and wiped a tear off his cheek. “It’s all right,” Naoto said softly. Silently, he put an arm across Ryu’s shoulders and led him over to Koji who tugged his hand gently, bringing him to sit between him and Naoto on the bed, like parents with a child. “Kiku-chama, what happened?” Yuzo’s voice was a tremulous whisper. “Do you want us to leave?” Naoto asked. Kiku shook his head. “No. You all need to know anyway.” He looked into Yuzo’s eyes. “We are wildly fortunate,” he said, knowing Yuzo wouldn’t see it this way. He decided to begin with the part of the punishment that would not happen. “First, he wants basically to begin a trade. Ryu for you. That is out of the question. I don’t give a shit what he says.” He pinned Ryu with a look. “Do you understand?” Ryu nodded from where he sat safely sandwiched between his friends, his eyes misty. In spite of his willingness to accommodate Suzuki, there was no doubt Ryu was relieved at Kiku’s determination to keep him away. Yuzo looked a touch relieved. “I never want Suzuki to go near Ryu. But, you said first.” He asked the next question slowly, each word saturated with dread. “What is the second?” Kiku heaved a deep breath. “This is the easier part, Yuzo-chan. You need to think clearly and understand that it’s the smallest penalty one could receive.” Yuzo’s lower lip began to tremble. “What…is…it? Kiku squeezed both the smaller man’s shoulder as he prepared to speak. “Yubizume. In ten days.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Yubizume? Finger cutting? The word spiralled through Yuzo’s consciousness. His mind didn’t quite absorb it, but his body did, causing his heart to pound and his throat to go dry. An immediate image of Kiku, a large knife and blood spurting, assaulted Yuzo’s mind. “No!” Kuso! Kiku had to maim himself a second time and it was all his fault. Yuzo shook his head, unable to stop as he repeated the word “no” over and over. He had to find a way to prevent it. Kiku’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “Yuzo-chan, stop. Pull yourself together. This is nothing, don’t you see? Do you know what Suzuki could have done?” “What? What could he have done?” The question was idiotic, Yuzo realised as soon as it spun from his lips. He didn’t want to hear the answer but it would have been disrespectful not to. Kiku’s face darkened. “For one, he could have shot me right where I stood. Two, he could have taken Ryu at gunpoint, knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him without causing a ton of bloodshed. Three, he could have set fire to this place or gone through and shot us all down. Should I go on?” Yuzo felt the blood drain from his face. Suzuki certainly was capable of doing all those things and more. The alternatives did make yubizume seem much less horrible. Wait, what was he thinking? Kiku had to mutilate himself because Yuzo chose to run to him for help? That was wrong. And Ryu who’d been raped by Suzuki now was faced with the possibility of becoming Suzuki’s slave? And that could happen, in spite of Kiku’s determination to protect Ryu. No. It wouldn’t work. There was one person here who had to pay for what he’d done. But he wouldn’t be able to do anything if he continued to act up. Kiku had shown he could be tough if Yuzo tried to argue with him…at least when it came to protecting someone he loved. Yuzo pulled in a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. Calling on the acting skills his uncle had imparted to him years ago, he pretended to agree with Kiku about the leniency of this penalty. “You’re right. I should be grateful.” He bowed his head, speaking slowly so

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he’d not seem too quick to agree. If he did, they’d know he was faking. “I know you’re right.” Fingertips under his chin bid him to look up. When he did and saw Kiku’s face, he blinked back tears. “Yuzo-chan, no matter what you think or feel, you must remember, you know Suzuki. In some ways, you probably know him the best of all of us. Underneath your misplaced guilt, you know that he’s practically let us go.” Yuzo squared his shoulders. “I do know him,” he said softly, “Well enough to know he’s probably one of the cruellest people you could ever meet.” His gaze flickered to Ryu. The other man was staring at him as if he were a little boy gaping fearfully at a terrifying mask, the way Yuzo felt as a child looking at his uncle’s Noh theatre masks. I won’t let Suzuki get near you, Ryu he said silently in his mind. And he sure as hell would not let the yak get another piece of Kiku’s finger. Not if there was anything he could do about it. Kiku released him and went to Ryu, kneeling down before him. “I’m sorry, Ryu-chan.” Tears slipped down Ryu’s cheeks. Yuzo closed his eyes, as if absorbing the tears into his own skin, tasting the salt of them on his own tongue. He knew that Ryu mourned not being lovers with Kiku and envied the coveted place he had in Kiku’s life. Maybe if he got out of the way, took his punishment like a man, Ryu could have Kiku the way he wanted. It would only be fair. “It’s no one’s fault,” Ryu said, his voice choked. Kiku reached up and smoothed Ryu’s pink hair back. “The best thing now would be to get some rest. We have that group arriving from Germany in the late morning. And besides, everything seems better after a night’s sleep.” He kissed Ryu’s forehead and backed away. “You can stay with us, Ryu-chan, if you want,” Naoto said softly to him. “That would be a good idea,” Kiku said. Ryu nodded. “Thank you.” He rose slowly and hugged Kiku before walking to the door, followed by Naoto and Koji. When he came near Yuzo, he stopped. “It’s going to be okay, Yuzo-chan,” he said. Yuzo stared back at him. Ryu was the one affected most by all of this and yet he was offering comfort. Ryu was the kind of person he wanted to be. He bowed. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

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When the three had left, sliding the screen closed behind them, Yuzo looked at Kiku. The larger man still stood at the edge of the bed. The soft lighting cast his face in shadows that made his emotions seem painted onto his chiselled features. “Yuzo-chan, come to bed. Please.” The request pulled him from where he’d stood rooted, as if the words were magnets. He found himself standing in front of Kiku, barely having felt his feet move across the smooth polished wood. and stared up into Kiku’s dark eyes. There was sadness in them, a kind of resignation, as well as tenderness. But there was also toughness in the man, a stubbornness which made Yuzo see how it had been possible for Kiku to have become a yakuza at all. How else could he have endured the ink-filled needle over ninety percent of his body? A chill shivered down Yuzo’s spine. How well did he really know Kiku? Kiku’s hands covered his shoulders and rubbed. The warm touch sent a new shiver through Yuzo’s body, a different shiver, one of pure pleasure. Tingles of heat reached down the length of his arms, seeped into his belly and awakened his dragon. Against his will, he began to melt, soften. After all, Kiku was the same man who’d taken him in at great risk to his life and everyone he loved. This was the same man who’d cleansed his life force, rid his body and soul of Suzuki’s filth so that he could heal. How he’d miss Kiku-chama. Maybe he’d see him one day again, in the after life. If there was one. “I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?” Kiku said, his voice a near whisper. “You think there’s a tough part of me, a heartless part that would cut off my finger and not give it a thought?” Yuzo’s blood went cold. He nearly stepped back but Kiku had a firm hold on him. “How did you…? I thought you don’t get visions from me.” His heartbeat sped up. Had Kiku been lying about that? He lied easily to Suzuki all the time. Kiku would lie under certain circumstances. He’d seen that. But Kiku shook his head. “I don’t get visions from you,” he murmured. “But I still sense thoughts, and feelings. I told you that from the beginning.” He went still. “And I don’t lie to you. Ever.” Yuzo thought Kiku might push away from him but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer and pressed his body to Yuzo’s, pulling Yuzo gently towards himself.

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Kiku’s body heat and male scent enveloped him. The hardness of that chest against his cheek, the arms folding him in their strength melted his thoughts, made his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was sink against the larger man, return the embrace and slide his hands under Kiku’s shirt. “Don’t you understand, little one?” Kiku’s breath ruffled his hair and his hands cradled Yuzo’s back, pressing into him with his splayed fingertips. No one in the world could make a person feel so fully embraced as this man could. “I’ve worked to become a lawful man from what I was. But there’s one thing that will make me absolutely lawless. Protecting you. And Ryu. Don’t be frightened of that.” He squeezed Yuzo gently and then nuzzled his hair. “Ryu understands. He hates it. But he understands.” Kiku leaned over more and licked at his earlobe, teasing the sensitive skin back and forth seductively. Yuzo pulled in a breath. His dragon tingled fully to life and pushed against the top of Kiku’s thigh. Kiku moved his hips against the rising bulge, coaxing, making all the blood in Yuzo’s body begin a rushing path to his groin. Kiku’s dragon was getting hard too. Yuzo felt it press against his belly, like a hot brand. Back and forth Kiku rubbed, as if they were slow-dancing to an invisible, seductive rhythm, increasing the friction between their chafing bodies as his lips kissed a teasing trail down the side of Yuzo’s neck. Yuzo tilted his head, unable to help himself. Kiku was a master at seduction. That much of Suzuki’s accusations of him had been true. One touch, one kiss and Yuzo always wanted more. Yuzo moaned softly and clutched at Kiku’s back. The broad muscles flexed under his searching hands. Kiku slipped a large hand into Yuzo’s hair, cradling his head. The subtlest pressure made Yuzo tilt his face to one side, giving Kiku complete access to the side of his neck. Kiku brushed a kiss over the sensitive skin. “Isn’t that why you came here in the first place, Yuzochan? Because something in you knew that I would protect you at all costs?” Protect. The word shivered through Yuzo, caressed him as if it had a physical being of its own, as potent and seductive as the man himself. A memory surfaced briefly, of being in the bath downstairs with Suzuki, rubbing his shoulders when Kiku came in to see if they needed anything. Yuzo had looked at Kiku with such craving. He would have leaped out of the bath and thrown himself onto Kiku in that moment if it wouldn’t have meant certain death.

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“Yes,” he whispered, letting his hands slide down Kiku’s back and come to rest on his buttocks. The hard round globes flexed under his hands, coiled with power, and Yuzo could feel every nuance of movement in them, following the slow, even grinding motion of Kiku’s hips. However, wanting that protection and paying the price for it were two different things. Yuzo wasn’t the one paying. Kiku and Ryu were. He couldn’t let it happen. He would have to enjoy this one last night with the man he loved and then go take his punishment. Kiku rubbed his lips against Yuzo’s neck again, tasting his skin as if delicately savouring a fine meal. Kiku’s large hands went to the hem of his shirt and gathered it, sliding it upwards. He pulled back from Yuzo, making him raise his arms to continue lifting the shirt away. The soft material brushed Yuzo’s nipples, making them tingle wildly. Kiku did this every time, as if unwrapping a precious gift. Kiku tossed the shirt away and looked down at him. His eyes seemed to be drinking in what he saw. Kiku’s gaze alone felt like a caress. “Yuzo-chan,” he murmured in a husky voice, “in the whole universe, you came to me. I must have done some good somewhere.” Reaching up, he cupped the side of Yuzo’s neck and leaned in to him, capturing Yuzo’s lips in a hot kiss. That was it. The last of Yuzo’s thoughts slipped away. A heated rush filled the void, Kiku’s musky male scent, the heat of his body, the taste of his lips, his potent caresses, the words of love, the hard dragon pushing against his. Without thinking, Yuzo found his hands scrabbling at the buttons of Kiku’s shirt as they kissed. Their lips chafed together, faster, harder, tongues sliding together moist and hot. Yuzo got the shirt undone and yanked it open so he could slide his hands greedily over Kiku’s broad, inked chest. Through his haze, the pads of his fingertips brushed across Kiku’s nipples which tightened immediately. The larger man groaned into Yuzo’s mouth and deepened the kiss. His hands closed around Yuzo’s arms and Yuzo felt himself being lowered down. The firm softness of the futon rose up and met his back. Kiku broke away from their kiss, leaving him panting. Kiku pulled the tie of the drawstring to Yuzo’s pants and grasped the waist, pulling them down. “I can’t wait, Yuzo-chan,” he whispered and sealed his lips over Yuzo’s again. He yanked down his own pants and covered Yuzo’s body with his, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hard dragon to hard dragon.

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Yuzo’s eyes fluttered closed as Kiku’s weight made him sink down into the futon. This was always the most glorious moment of every day, the moment Kiku took him. All Yuzo could do was anchor his hold on the other man’s hips. Each slide of their cocks together sent more waves of pounding, tingling heat through his body, down his thighs, his arms, through his chest, and all he could do was accept the heated swirl of Kiku’s tongue against his and moan into his lover’s mouth. Kiku lifted his mouth away and gently nibbled Yuzo’s lower lip. “I can never get enough of you, Yuzo-chan. You’re the sweetest, most delicious nectar.” The words weakened Yuzo more. Kiku meant them. Meant every one. Kiku was not a man simply to flatter in order to get what he wanted. Yuzo could believe him. Believe in him. That alone was intoxicating. His yin flowed now, an invisible yet tingling force inside him. This happened every time. The energy darted between his mouth where the erotic lick of Kiku’s tongue stimulated it, down to his nipples, in his ass, and then into his dragon, which surged each time Kiku’s dragon slid against it. More yin tingled in his balls, causing a pressure to build. For what felt a long time, Kiku rubbed against him this way, kissing him, loving him. “Yuzo-chan.” Kiku’s hot murmur caressed the skin of his neck. That did it. The force needed to make it all spill out. His dragon erupted, splashed its milky warmth between them. Kiku groaned as it coated his chest. The man loved his dragon’s cloud. Delighted in the essence that spilled from Yuzo’s yang sac. Kiku braced himself up on his elbows and slid harder against Yuzo’s dragon. His large hands clutched the bedding. His muscular body stiffened. Yuzo arched his torso, catching the warm cloud as it splashed over his chest and stomach. That was something else Kiku loved. Seeing his yang cloud coat Yuzo’s skin. And Yuzo wanted Kiku to have this gift. He wanted to fall asleep in Kiku’s arms and be held by him, held in what was, for him, the best place in the entire universe. Even if it was for the last time.

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Chapter Sixteen

Blood spurted everywhere. The walls, the ceiling. The bed sheets were soaked with it until not one white spot was left. The whoosh and thud of a knife followed by Kiku’s screams of pain filled the air. “Kiku!” Yuzo tried to run to him, to save him, but his feet slipped on the blood with every step he took. Kiku slumped over, weak from the loss of blood. His hand, severed at the wrist fell to the floor. “No!” Yuzo yelled, as if that could stop the bleeding, but blood kept spilling and spilling over the side of the bed, like a waterfall… “Huh!” Yuzo sat bolt upright. His chest heaved as if he’d been running. Something wet poured down his chest and back. Kiku’s blood! He wiped a hand across his chest and looked. But his hand was clean, just moist from sweat. Relief washed through him and he slumped over, still breathing heavily. Little by little the nightmare faded to the background and he became aware of his surroundings—Kiku’s luxurious bed, the soji screens, the soft daylight filtering through the blinds over the window. He looked over. The other side of the bed was empty. Yuzo threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom. No Kiku. There wasn’t a clock in the room aside from the phone Kiku kept with him and that was gone too. Judging from the slant of daylight, it was late morning. That’s when Yuzo remembered. Kiku was taking care of a group of guests from Germany. Quickly he used the toilet then went back into the bedroom. His eyes fell on a tray of food set inside the door with a note. Seeing his name written on the front of the folded paper, he picked it up. Let you sleep late. I love you. Kiku. Yuzo’s heart froze. There was also a single rose in a vase on the tray. Tears sprang to Yuzo’s eyes. He had to get out of here before he lost his nerve. Dropping the note, he threw on a pair of baggy pants and a tank shirt before quickly making the bed. He went into his drawer and grabbed the wad of cash his uncle had given him during their last visit. There was someone he needed to give money to before he went to Suzuki and this would be his one and only chance. He scribbled a note for Kiku on the note Kiku had given him and put that in his pocket also. Leaving the tray where it was he slid open the soji screen and peered into the hallway. Quiet. Everyone else had long since begun their day.

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Softly he padded down the back steps to the kitchen. Only Basho was there, kneeling down, putting away supplies from a shipment of cardboard boxes. Basho smiled when he looked up and saw Yuzo. “Good morning, Yuzo-chan. How are you?” Yuzo’s heart began pounding but he worked a smile onto his face. He’d practiced looking happy for his parents for years and found, to his horror, that the skill came all too easily even with someone as kind as Basho. “Just fine. I overslept.” He noticed that Basho was rubbing his injured hip and knelt down. “Why don’t you let me finish doing this? You can go rest.” The kitchen was full of delicious smells, indicating that the midday meal was ready for whomever came in to eat. Lunch wasn’t a sit down with everyone meal as supper was, so Yuzo knew that Basho had already been on his feet all morning between preparing lunch and breakfast. Basho nodded. “I would appreciate that.” He began to rise and Yuzo assisted him. “Perhaps you can convince Timothy to massage it for you,” Yuzo said, making his voice sound as jovial as possible. Timothy was a novelist and spent much of the day writing in the room he and Basho shared. Basho grinned. “Good idea. Thanks, Yuzo-chan.” With a small bow, Basho turned and headed towards his room. Yuzo watched him for a few seconds, his heart aching. Deceiving kind people who’d been so good to him and had helped him through the worst time in his life really sucked. Unfortunately, he had no choice. It was this or watch Kiku chop another piece of his finger off. If he could prevent that from happening, he would. He knelt down and put away a few of the packs of napkins into the cabinet, as Basho had been doing and then looked over his shoulder again. He was alone in the kitchen, but someone could come in at anytime. He had to leave. Now. Rising, he went to the large table, put his note for Kiku on it, then padded to the back door. A row of shoes was neatly lined up, one pair his own loafers he used for going out back to dump garbage. He pushed his feet into the loafers, quietly opened the back door and slipped out, making sure the door clicked shut as silently as possible. No looking back. Then he ran.

****

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Yuzo knocked on the door to his old apartment. The cracked plaster on the walls of the dark hallway reminded him of the days he’d come back here after hosting and wished he could get away. But that was the old Yuzo. He was the new Yuzo now. Someone who wouldn’t have gotten himself into trouble and would now make amends. The door opened and Mojo stood there, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He’d probably been sleeping after a night shift at the club. His eyes were sleepy but widened when they saw Yuzo. “You shouldn’t be here,” he snapped. “Do you want to get me killed?” “No. It’s all right, Mojo-chan,” he said quickly. “Nothing will happen to you now. He already knows where I am. I swear. I just came to bring you this.” Quickly he held up the fistful of cash his uncle had given to him. He’d kept only enough for himself as a safety, tucked away in the pocket of his pants. Mojo needed it more than he did. You didn’t need money when you were dead or in Suzuki’s clutches. Or both. Instead of taking the money, Mojo eyed it suspiciously then eyed him. A look of anger followed by something else, something softer, slipped through his dark eyes. His hair had gotten much longer and locks of it hung over his eyes. “What’s this for? To keep quiet?” Yuzo’s heart squeezed. There wasn’t much time. “No. There’s nothing to keep quiet about. It’s…to apologise. For hurting you. You were so good to me. You deserved better.” Mojo crossed his arms. Behind him, Yuzo saw Saki standing a few feet away, watching them, a possessive look on his face. Apparently, Mojo and Saki were together now. “You’re right about that,” Mojo said. Then something seemed to break in him. He sighed and reached out, accepting the money and holding it in his fist. “Where have you been?” Concern laced his voice, but knowing Mojo, he was trying hard not to let it show. “The White Tiger. I…I got away and went there. They’ve been so good to me. Like you were. I’m happy there. The owner there, Kiku-sama, he’s so good to me. I mean…I hope you’re happy too.” His face burned in shame. He hadn’t come here to throw anything in Mojo’s face. And now he was mucking up his apology. “I’m plenty happy, thanks. Saki is good to me. The best.” Yuzo ignored the mild accusation in Mojo’s voice. Mojo had good reason to be angry with him. “That’s great, Mojo. He’s crazy about you.” “I know. It’s mutual.”

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Yuzo cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to say all these stupid thing to Mojo. They’d just slipped out. The old Yuzo would probably take longer to change than he’d thought. “I’d better go. If…I just wanted you to know how sorry I am, Mojo-chan. You were one of the best friends a person could have.” Mojo started. He opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it again. Another second passed. “Thanks.” Yuzo stared at him a moment longer. Saki still hovered in the background, as if afraid Mojo would take him in again and throw Saki over. He looked at Saki. “Bye, Saki.” Saki nodded to him. There was no love lost between him and Saki. With a quick bow, he turned and ran. Speeding down the several flights of stairs and back onto the sidewalk, he kept running. Suzuki’s office wasn’t too far from here, maybe six or seven blocks. Yuzo knew the path in his sleep, he’d gone with Suzuki so many times to his office. Yuzo’s breath pumped in his ears. The sun was warm on his face and the early summer air mixed with the smell of traffic exhaust. As he ran, he wondered if Kiku had realised yet he was missing. The note on the kitchen table was small, meant to be a bit difficult to find in order to give him time to get to Suzuki without interference. All too soon, Suzuki’s office came into view, tucked between two boutique storefronts. He came to a halt just before becoming visible to Suzuki or his goons. Fear clenched his entire body. Every nerve cell, every muscle rang with the emotion. He could turn around right now and run back to the White Tiger. Kiku would be upset with him but he’d deal with it. Kiku never stayed mad for long. He was more of a pussycat than a tiger in many ways. Yuzo looked at the doorway. Suzuki had his wooden shingle out with his name on it and a carving of a samurai sword, a symbol that told the world who and what Suzuki was. He pulled in a long deep breath as the world of Shinjuku bustled around him, unconcerned with one young man in baggy pants and a T-shirt, standing on the sidewalk, panting, about to go to his probable death. He knew that yakuza sometimes demanded ritual sepukku of members who’d shamed them or shown so much fear they were unreliable or a threat. Yuzo wasn’t a member, but Suzuki didn’t seem to make such distinction most of the time. Suzuki treated Kiku as half a yak, punishing him by order yubizume, and half a civilian,

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tormenting him psychologically the way yaks did to civilians in order to get their ready compliance. What would stop Suzuki from ordering Yuzo to gut himself? Would he do it? Was Kiku worth dying for? Absolutely. With one final calming breath, Yuzo took the last few steps to Suzuki’s office door. He pulled it open. And found himself face to face with Chibe, the monster who’d tattooed his chest. Chibe scowled. But then a grin creased his fat face. “Suzuki-sama! Someone’s here to see you.” “I’m busy.” Suzuki’s voice came from the inner office. “Believe me, you’ll want to see this one.” “Five minutes and then he’s out.” Chibe stood aside and gestured towards the interior. “This way, please.” Yuzo glanced up at him and then forward, to keep himself from tripping. His legs felt like noodles. Perhaps this was what a man about to be executed felt like. As long as he didn’t let the fear show.

**** “Where the hell is he?” Kiku’s heart clawed like a separate living entity trying to escape his body. When Yuzo wasn’t up in their bedroom, he’d come down to the kitchen to check up on him after he’d settled the group of German tourists. What had Yuzo done? “I’m sorry, Kiku-sensei.” Basho looked near to tears. “He said he’d take care of putting this shipment away so I could rest. My hip was bad this morning.” He gestured to the halfunpacked boxes and then rubbed his scalp with agitated fingers. His lover, Timothy stood next to him, an arm across his shoulders. “I apologise too,” the blond Englishman said. “I had no idea what was happening.” “Neither of you is to blame,” Kiku assured them. Basho didn’t know Yuzo’s temperament like he did. And Timothy couldn’t possibly know, having only been here a

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very short time. Besides, these two men hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years. They had other pressing concerns. “He’s impulsive to a fault. Did he say anything, seem upset?” “No,” Basho said. “In fact, he appeared cheerful.” Yuzo was turning out to be quite the actor when he needed to be. As he’d done yesterday, pretending to accept Suzuki’s punishment. This was horrible. Kiku looked around. There’d been no note on the bed or anywhere. Then his eye fell on a piece of paper folded neatly on the large round table. He dashed over and practically ripped it open. Beloved Kiku, Please forgive me. I can’t let you suffer because of me. I’ll love you always. Yuzo. Kiku clutched the note and covered his face with his other hand. “Dear sweet mother of God,” he mumbled. He looked up. Basho and Timothy were staring at him, both looking mournful. “What it is, Kiku-chan?” Basho said in a near whisper. “I know where he is,” he said, already almost to the door where his shoes were. “I’ve got to go. Pray for me that it’s not too late.”

**** Suzuki was at his desk. On the surface, smoke curled from a half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. The yak didn’t move, didn’t show surprise. Didn’t show any kind of response. Only sat there, like a stone. However, the look on his face chilled Yuzo’s blood. Yuzo wished Suzuki would jump up and yell, even wrap his hands around his throat. As long as he didn’t sit there with that sneer, his eyes expressionless and as cold as a shark’s eyes. “Hello, little prince,” he said finally. His voice was as even, icy and controlled as his features. “So nice to see you back in town. Somehow I had a feeling you’d show up after yesterday.” Yuzo’s throat went dry and his heart hammered. But he stood firm against the urge to flee. Even without Miyagi and Chibe blocking an escape, he had to do this. The image of Kiku and the sword cutting through the air and slicing off another joint of Kiku’s already mangled finger haunted him every second. “Come in. Make yourself comfortable.” Suzuki indicated a chair on the other side of his desk, his manner that of the perfectly courteous businessman. Not good.

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Yuzo forced his left foot forward. He took one terrified step after the next until he could lower himself into the offered chair. At the last second, he squared his shoulders. Pull yourself together, Yuzo, he scolded silently. He had to do this for Kiku. It was the only thing he could do. If Suzuki ended up torturing him to death, he’d take his punishment and hope that he’d learned his lesson for the next embodiment. Suzuki leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together over his stomach. His thin lips remained curled in that sneer and his eyes took on a frightening glitter. “So, little prince, I’d ask you why you’re here, but I already know. Well, you can tell your lover that I’ve lost what last shred of respect I had for him, sending you here to beg my leniency. He really has you dick-whipped, doesn’t he?” Suzuki’s sneer deepened. “Just shows what an asshole moron you really are. Fuju must be finished with you to have done something like that. He can’t imagine you’d come home alive.” Yuzo stared at him. The haze of fear around him intensified until his sight blurred. The reality of what he’d done by coming here sank deeper into his mind. The chance was nearly one hundred percent that he would not leave this room with his heart still beating. He cleared his throat in an effort to find his voice. Fear pumped like hot ice through his veins and the damp heat in his armpits and covering his torso made him feel like he was on fire. “Kiku didn’t send me here. He doesn’t know I’m here.” He struggled to keep his voice even, not to let it crack and give the other man the satisfaction of seeing his terror. To his surprise, Suzuki chuckled. “Nice try, Yuzo. As if you would dare show your little turned up nose in here on your own after the stunt you’ve pulled.” “Honest. I’m telling you the truth.” The other man pierced him with a doubtful look. “Is that so? Is this the same truth you told me when you served me saké laced with sleeping pills? That kind of truth?” Hurt was clear in the man’s voice, even behind the angry tone. “I’m sorry I did that.” Yuzo bowed his head. The strange part was, he meant it. In spite of everything, that moment of betrayal still weighed on his conscience. When he dared to look up again, Suzuki was staring at him, an eerie look in his eyes, as if he too, had heard the sincerity in Yuzo’s tone. “So, you’re here on your own.” Suzuki’s voice was quieter, subdued, causing Yuzo’s gut to tighten. The familiar suspended-over-a-pit of-vipers feeling came over him again. This could easily go badly.

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Yuzo nodded. “Yes. I…I came to beg you to take me back. I was…wrong to leave you. Stupid.” “You got that right.” Suzuki picked up his cigarette, tapped the ashes and took a drag on it. He blew the smoke in Yuzo’s direction while the look in his eyes glittered. “What’s more,” he went on, “you insult me by thinking I would simply take you back and excuse Fuju from yubizume.” Suzuki continued to smoke his cigarette. His gaze bore into Yuzo’s for several torturous moments. What could possibly have been going through his mind was unimaginable. Finally, he leaned forward, his sneer returning. “I have news for you, little prince, there’s one thing that will save Fuju’s finger from the sword. And only one thing.” A shiver of dread passed over Yuzo’s entire back. Where Suzuki was concerned, that one thing could be the most hideous possibility. But one that he had to pursue. He swallowed again and braced himself. He would do anything to save Kiku the pain of a second yubizume. Anything. “What is it? I’ll do it.” Suzuki chuckled again, the sound this time low, a rumble like thunder that tells of a storm rolling in. He mashed out the butt of his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. The seat made an ominous creak. “Get over here.”

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Chapter Seventeen

Yuzo felt the strength drain from every limb. If his body had been made of noodles, it couldn’t have been weaker. But Suzuki’s command rang in the air. Suzuki was giving him a chance to save Kiku. Get the hell up! he ordered himself. He’d helped create this mess. He’d do whatever he could to undo it. Rising slowly with the aid of his hands on the chair’s arms, he pushed off and went to stand in front of Suzuki. Suzuki’s lip curled again. He opened his legs, making the next step clear. “On your knees,” he said, his tone hard to decipher. Yuzo could hear his own heartbeat thunder in his ears now. Keeping his gaze on Suzuki’s face, he lowered himself to a kneeling position. The floor was hard under his thin baggy pants, but he ignored the pressure on his kneecaps. It would get worse before this was over. Suzuki curled a thick finger and beckoned. “You know what to do.” He rested both hands on his thighs and fell silent. Yuzo swallowed hard. He certainly did know what to do. He’d done it a million times like this to Suzuki, right here in this office, in this very spot. Reaching out, he unbuckled Suzuki’s belt, horrified more at the way his hands trembled than at what he was about to do. If Suzuki wanted a blowjob as an agreement to take him back and let Kiku off the hook, he’d swallow twenty-gallons of Suzuki’s cum at once if that would work. Once the belt was undone, Yuzo worked open the button and then the zipper of Suzuki’s trousers. The other man didn’t say a word, but Yuzo could see the growing bulge pushing the front of his briefs. He lifted Suzuki’s shirt out of the way and suppressed a shiver at one of the tattooed oni, glaring at him from its place on the man’s belly. “I’m sure this will be real good,” Suzuki said in that low voice. “If Fuju’s been instructing you.” He chuckled again. “As if you were the first cute little ass he’s taken to bed.” Yuzo ignored the barb. It was intended to hurt but he knew the truth. It didn’t matter how many lovers Kiku had ever had. Kiku had made it clear he was special. The first one to

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bring him comfort. Ever. Nothing this man could say would ever take that away, even though he’d never see Kiku again after this day. Pushing his fingertips under the elastic of Suzuki’s underwear, Yuzo started to pull it down. But Suzuki stopped him with a hand over his. “Not so fast, little prince.” The man’s voice had an edge in it now. “You thought this would be easy, didn’t you? A nice blowjob and I’ll take you back and everything will be the way it was?” Yuzo remained silent. Whatever answer he gave would no doubt be the wrong one. All he could do was stare up, wordless, feeling his eyes open as wide as they could stretch while more sweat poured in his armpits and on the back of his neck. Suzuki was a master of psychological torture. “Those lips aren’t touching my cock until you do the one thing that will get me to take you back.” Again, Suzuki fell silent, obviously waiting for Yuzo to ask the question. “What?” he managed to squeak out. “What is that thing?” Suzuki’s grin faded and his eyes took on the deadened shark look again. His hand remained over Yuzo’s right above his partial erection. “Renounce him. Now. Tell me you don’t love him. Tell me he’s the self-serving shit I’ve always said he is and that you don’t love him. Say it and mean it. You do that and everything goes back the way it was.” Again, Yuzo felt struck, unable to speak. Prickly heat invaded every nerve ending in his body. If he’d felt suspended over a pit of vipers before, he was now a mere centimetre above them, about to be bitten in a million places no matter what he said or did. If he said the words and sounded fake, Suzuki would kill him for being a simpering coward. Suzuki would demand yubizume of Kiku and continue to torment him. On the other hand, if he said the words Suzuki wanted to hear and made them sound real—something he could definitely do thanks to his uncle’s training in acting—he would live the rest of his life knowing he’d sold out the one man he loved more than anyone else in the world, the man who had given him everything unstintingly, simply out of love and care. “Well, little prince? You’re hesitating a bit too long.” Suzuki narrowed his eyes. Yuzo opened his mouth then closed it again. He returned Suzuki’s steady gaze. Just as something else filtered into the swirling in his mind. The knowledge took root and spread, as if it were prying open a hidden chamber in his mind, a place that had felt so guilty to Suzuki

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that he’d been willing to overlook one very important thing—Suzuki would make Kiku cut off his finger no matter what Yuzo said or did in this moment. That left only one choice—the truth. If Suzuki killed him for telling the truth, for standing by the sincere, deep reality of his heart, then he would at least die knowing he’d honoured Kiku’s love. And Kiku would know the truth. He’d know that Yuzo had honoured him, even as he cut off his finger. Pulling in a deep breath, he bowed his head. “I can’t say those things, Suzuki-san,” he said. His voice no longer squeaked or trembled, but was smooth and strong. In the next moment, a strange elation swept through his body, a lightness that made the top of his head feel as if it had opened and was pouring out light. “I cannot say the words you want me to say and mean them.” He kept his head bowed, half afraid to look up, half in continued humility. Suzuki’s fingers burrowed violently into his hair, squeezed and yanked his head up. The coercion made Yuzo gasp and he was forced to stare up at the other man, wide-eyed, and watch violent emotions pass across Suzuki’s broad face. “You realise what you’re doing, don’t you?” Suzuki’s voice was tight, a low growl that made fear shiver over every inch of Yuzo’s skin. Yuzo tried to nod but couldn’t, held in place by that strong grip. “Yes, Taro-san, I do know.” He took several quick breaths, determined that Suzuki’s clutch on his head wouldn’t stop his next words. “If you wanted me to tell you I care about you, that you’re important to me and that I looked up to you, I could say it and be telling the truth. If you wanted me to say I’ll always regret having hurt you, I’ll say it and mean it with my whole heart. Please, Taro-san. Just don’t make me say those other things.” How he was daring to speak like this to Suzuki from the dangerous position he was in, he didn’t know, but his sincerity was all he had left. He’d die with his sincerity intact, if nothing else. He closed his eyes, unable to look into Suzuki’s face any longer. Suzuki pushed him hard, then released his hair. Yuzo fell back onto the floor, his eyes forced open by the fall. The other man stared down at him from his seat, his pants still open. The tattooed oni on Suzuki’s stomach glared out at Yuzo with its accusing fury. “Nice sentiments, little prince,” he said. His voice was surprisingly calmer, less disdainful. “I’m glad to see you’re not completely the spoiled shit I first knew. Unfortunately for you, you’re

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wasting my time.” His hands went to his pants and he tucked in his shirt, still watching Yuzo with his shark eyes while he did up the fly and button. When he was finished, he smoothed his slacks down and adjusted his jacket. “You see,” he said, his hand disappearing into his jacket and appearing to rummage, “while it’s good to know where I stand with you, I’m not about to take you into my bed again and spend my hard-earned money on you while you’re thinking about him and wishing you were with him.” When his hand reappeared, it was holding the small pistol he always kept hidden away. Yuzo’s vision blurred again. Prickly heat cascaded over the tops of his hands, up his arms and he struggled to breathe. Suzuki cocked the safety with his thumb and pointed the weapon down at Yuzo. “I think my position is completely understandable, Yuzo. Don’t you?” Yuzo felt his head moving and realised that he’d managed to nod. “Yes,” he whispered. The other man flourished the gun. “Get off the floor and sit down.” He kept the weapon pointed towards Yuzo’s heart as Yuzo lifted himself up and went back to his chair. Silently, Suzuki picked up his cell phone, flipped it open and pressed a couple of buttons. Yuzo watched his expression shift slightly when the person he’d called picked up on the other end. “He’s here. If you want him back alive, get here immediately.” He closed the phone and set it down. “You’re in luck. He’s less than a block away.” Kiku! Yuzo’s breath came in short bursts and he gripped the edge of his seat. He’d actually called Kiku to come and get him. He stared down the short barrel of the pistol, still aimed at his chest. He wanted to believe that Suzuki was merely a bully who only made threats and never carried them out, but he knew better. Suzuki had murdered people merely because they’d gotten in the way of the person he was aiming at, then laughed about it later. Life was cheap to him and Yuzo couldn’t imagine that his life meant more to Suzuki than the others had. Suzuki reclined in his chair, yet kept the gun pointed at him. “If you want to play samurai, little prince, you must be willing to endure everything a samurai endures.” Yuzo stared at him. He didn’t understand what Suzuki was talking about, but suspected, with dread, that he’d know soon enough. Then it occurred to him, would Suzuki shoot Kiku when he got here? If that happened, he’d find a way to get Suzuki to shoot him too.

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Voices murmured outside Suzuki’s closed door. Then the door slid open and Kiku rushed in, his loose white tunic shirt flowing with his speed. “Where is he, dammit?” But just as he spoke, he turned and their gazes met. Yuzo remained quiet though relief and joy washed through him. It was all he could do not to launch from the chair and throw himself onto Kiku. “Yuzo, are you all right?” Kiku grabbed his shoulder. The man’s eyes looked red, as if he’d been crying. He also looked about ten years older and Yuzo was struck by the worry he must have caused his lover. “Your little friend here came to me with noble intent,” Suzuki said before Yuzo could answer, his gun now pointed at Kiku. “But I’m afraid the deal he offered in order to keep you from yubizume wasn’t tempting.” “What deal?” Kiku’s voice was clenched, yet also heavy. His chest heaved as if he’d been sprinting. “That he’d return to me if I’d let you off the hook, of course.” Suzuki shot Yuzo a look. “But young Yuzo went all samurai on us and wouldn’t agree to my terms. Seems he values his loyalty to you above his own life. Which bodes badly for you, of course, Fuju.” Yuzo looked up at Kiku’s profile. Nothing had ever been a more beautiful sight. But he also saw the striations of muscle as Kiku clenched his teeth, obviously restraining himself from saying what he really wanted to say. “Thank you for not hurting him,” he murmured. “I didn’t do it for you or him, you fucking asshole!” The angry glitter returned to Suzuki’s eyes. “You know who I did it for. You’re not as stupid as you look.” Ryu. It always seemed to come back to Ryu in one way or another. Suzuki held onto the strangest illusion that he and Ryu had some sort of close relationship they never had. “I’ve even forgiven Ryu for letting you harbour this one and never telling me.” He saw Kiku wince. Suzuki turned his glare back onto Yuzo. “My punishment stands. Yubizume in ten days. So our little prince here will have time to reflect and feel the torture of his actions. And because of the selfish, stupid stunt you pulled, you little shit, and because your lover has insulted me yet again, I’m upping my price.” He looked at Kiku again. “Ryu. Not just tea and a massage as I’d stated before. We’ll begin by having him wait on me when I come to your place. Give him a chance to get used to the idea before he takes over Yuzo’s old room. He owes me that much at this point. Besides, once he feels what it’s like to have a man who really

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wants him, he’ll come willingly. And if you think to disobey me this time, Kiku, you’ll pay a hell of a lot worse. I’m not afraid of the old man, in spite of what you think. And well, his health isn’t what it used to be. You’ve overestimated my patience with you. Try keeping Ryu away from me and see what happens.” “Taro.” Kiku’s voice held a touch of plea with a hint of warning. Suzuki winked at him. “I know your powers of persuasion, Fuju. And I know how the boy worships you. He’ll do anything for you. Anything to keep you and his brothers safe in your little White Tiger shithole. Now, get the hell out of here. I’d see you out, but I’m busy.” He fell silent and kept them pinned with that look, his gun still pointed and ready. Yuzo became aware of the pressure of Kiku’s hand still on his shoulder. Kiku’s fingers gripped his shirt and gave a small yank. Practically jumping to his feet, Yuzo yielded to the pull of Kiku’s hand fisting his shirt and followed close by his side. Chibe and Miyagi stood in the front vestibule, watching as they went out the door, their hands close to their weapons. Kiku’s grip remained tangled in his shirt as he pulled Yuzo along. His stride was much longer, being a head taller than Yuzo and Yuzo had to jog a bit to keep up, but didn’t dare lag. The hot summer air filled his lungs and he needed to sag, weak as he felt with relief, against a wall or something. But Kiku only kept tugging him along. Yuzo glanced at his lover’s profile again. The striations in Kiku’s jaw still flexed. Shit. He’d made Kiku angry at him now. Kiku probably hated him. Would send him away somewhere, away from Suzuki, but also away from the White Tiger and the new love he’d found with Kiku. “I’m sorry, Kiku,” he said, his voice breathless in his own ears. Kiku didn’t look at him. “Shut up now,” he muttered. “Keep walking.” Yuzo obeyed, though now he dreaded getting back to the White Tiger. It didn’t look like Kiku would turn and take him in his arms and hold him and tell him everything was okay. Because nothing was okay. If anything, things were worse. Now Suzuki would take Ryu away. That was a punishment worse than death. All the guys would hate him now, Kiku included. He’d have to leave anyway after all the damage he’d done. The worst part was, now there was nothing he could do about what he’d set in motion. No fixing anything. Suzuki and his madness made that impossible. Suzuki had once called him a useless turd ball during a tirade when he’d slipped on a pile of manga Yuzo had left on the floor in his bedroom in the days before he started keeping it tidy. The criticism had made him bristle at the time, but really, Suzuki had been right.

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Yuzo’s thoughts cut off the second they turned the corner and the White Tiger loomed ahead. Kiku’s grip slipped down to his upper arm and tugged him harder, as if the doors would lock permanently if they didn’t get inside within a few seconds. Kiku sped up their pace the closer they got, yanked open a glass door and practically shoved Yuzo in ahead of him. The front vestibule was empty and quiet. Yuzo’s heart pounded and his mouth went dry. Pulling in a deep breath, he mustered what strength he had left to face Kiku’s wrath. He’d braced himself none too soon. Kiku halted, grabbed his shoulders and scowled down into his face. “You idiot!” he growled.

Kiku glared down into Yuzo’s face. The younger man’s eyes had widened like those of a deer caught in a car’s headlights. His lips were parted, pulling in deep breaths and his already pale skin drained of its last bit of colour. “You idiot,” Kiku said again, less forcefully. His heart still pumped as if he’d run a footrace and the image of Yuzo seated before Suzuki whose pistol had been aimed at his heart, assaulted his mind, a menacing image that would probably haunt him for a long time to come. Kuso! He’d almost lost the one person in the world who’d been made for him. All because the boy couldn’t control his impulses. Kiku became aware of Yuzo’s slim arms in his grip. Yuzo’s breath rasped harshly and his lower lip trembled. He seemed to be bracing himself for a whack across the head. Kiku felt suddenly nauseous. Oh God, hitting Yuzo was the last thing he’d ever do even though Yuzo made him feel so wild, so uncontrolled. Before he realised what he was doing, he pulled Yuzo against him and held him tight. “You idiot,” he repeated, this time near a whisper. He pressed a kiss to Yuzo’s forehead, then the bridge of his nose, his temples, cheeks, chin, lips, all the while whispering, “You idiot, you bloody idiot…” between each kiss. Vaguely he was aware of Yuzo’s hands fisting his shirt and then he tasted warm salty tears when he kissed Yuzo’s cheeks. He pulled back and looked down. The smaller man’s eyes were red-rimmed now. Relief and pain mingled in his expression. “I’m sorry, Kiku-chan. I know it was wrong, what I did. I can’t do anything right.” God, he was so beautiful. Just looking at him made Kiku ache. He picked up Yuzo’s hand and started for the elevator. The front entry was empty now, but someone could walk

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in at any second and see him making a scene. Besides, upstairs in their bed together was the only place Kiku wanted to be. He didn’t speak again until the elevator doors whooshed shut and they were alone inside. Then he brushed both thumbs over Yuzo’s delicate cheekbones. You could have been murdered, mutilated or worse, he meant to say. I couldn’t bear to lose you. That would kill me now, when I’ve finally found you. The words remained locked inside him, trapped by the lump that had formed in his throat. The elevators doors opened. Kiku led Yuzo to their room and slid the soji closed behind them. Only then did he feel able to speak. He reached up and pushed his fingers through Yuzo’s hair. The smooth, shaggy locks sifted between his fingers like perfect silk. Perfect. Yuzo was perfect. For him. “Are you all right?” he murmured, his throat still painfully tight. “He didn’t hurt you?” Yuzo shook his head. “No.” His shoulders sagged and misery darkened his delicate features. He yielded to a gentle tug that brought him into an embrace. Kiku felt Yuzo’s trembling against his chest. With his arms around the smaller man, he ushered him over to the bed and sat them both down, pulling Yuzo closer. “I could have lost you,” he said, his voice still a near-whisper. He nuzzled Yuzo’s hair and then the smooth skin of his forehead. Yuzo’s hands palmed his back and Kiku could feel his lover yielding to the affection. “I wanted to stop him from punishing you, Kiku. I didn’t know what else to do. But he wanted me to say I didn’t love you and mean it.” Yuzo was crying now. “I couldn’t say it.” Kiku brushed the salty tears off his cheeks with his lips while the last of his upset melted away. Yuzo had risked his life to prevent what was to come. Until that moment, Kiku hadn’t thought he could fall more in love with Yuzo than he already had. But he did. Lacing the fingers of both hands into Yuzo’s hair, he tilted Yuzo’s face gently upward and kissed him. His heart, which had finally settled down a bit, now fluttered. Yuzo’s lips were the softest he’d ever tasted, laced with the salt of his tears. The smell of fear still clung to Yuzo’s skin and Kiku tried to ease it away with the soft lick of his tongue along the seam of the other man’s lips.

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It worked. A soft sigh escaped Yuzo and his lips parted so their tongues could duel in a gentle dance. Kiku felt Yuzo’s hands clasp his upper arms and press into the bulges of his triceps. Yuzo moaned, the vibration soft against Kiku’s lips. Kiku closed his eyes, drinking in Yuzo’s flavour. The scent of his musk and light sweat began to replace the fear and Yuzo’s hands ventured from his arms to his chest. That touch itself was like heaven. Kiku melted a bit more. Warm tingles cascaded over his body, across his back and chest, tightening his nipples and cascading down into his belly and groin. Even in the aftermath of the confrontation with Suzuki, the horrific image of the bastard’s gun trained on Yuzo receded, leaving the dark velvet and twinkling of lights that signalled the joining of his spirit with Yuzo’s sweetness. Suddenly Yuzo pulled back and stared at him. Those large eyes were misted over and Kiku could feel the workings of the other man’s mind again. His little tiger was getting ready to pounce again. “There must be something we can do, Kiku,” he said in a near whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of it.” He picked up Kiku’s left hand and held it to his cheek. Kiku’s heart kicked up again. For several moments, all he could do was breathe heavily from the kiss and stare at Yuzo. Yuzo nuzzled his hand then kissed each finger, index, middle, ring, until he reached the shortened pinky. The tip of Yuzo’s tongue darted out and across the scarred nub. He made it seem a sensual act even as a fresh tear slipped down his cheek. The blend of emotions made Kiku’s insides swirl again. He teetered on the edge of wanting to push Yuzo back on the futon and ravage him while he roiled in the torrent of uncertainty and risk that Yuzo always kicked up, like a dust storm over a thirsty dry field. Maddening. Yuzo opened his eyes again. “What about that cop? The one I told you about.” The one who’d whipped Yuzo. Kiku remembered through his haze of desire. “He’s a bastard,” Yuzo went on. “No better than the yaks, but he’s trying to get them. I could find him. I could—“ “No,” Kiku muttered between clenched teeth. After what had just happened, Yuzo could even think of this? “Dammit, Yuzo. No cops. Ever. I told you that. I gave my word. Not to Taro Suzuki, but to Ryu’s father and to the old man. I have no hope of protecting you without my word.” He let his hand rest against Yuzo’s cheek, unable to bring himself to pull

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away. In spite of the madness in what Yuzo was saying, the spirit behind his words was one of the things that had drawn him most strongly to the man. To his own surprise, his gaze fell on the gleam of moisture on Yuzo’s full lower lip, the evidence of the kiss they’d just shared. The sight made his dragon tighten more. He followed his line of sight down Yuzo’s chin, down the delicate curve of his throat to the expanse of pale chest above the neckline of the sleeveless shirt he wore. Just the artful flare of his shoulders and back, the way they tapered to his waist was making Kiku mad with lust. “It’s absolutely worth it, Yuzo-chan.” Yuzo’s smooth brow crinkled. “What do you mean?” Kiku reached out and slid up the hem of Yuzo’s shirt. He tugged upward so that Yuzo had to lift his arms, letting Kiku slide the shirt off him and toss it away. “Yubizume,” he said, letting his gaze rest on Yuzo’s chest, on the perfectly sculpted, graceful etchings of muscle and cinnamon-coloured nipples. Yuzo sat with his shoulders pushed slightly back, obviously enjoying the appreciation. When they were first together, Kiku had thought the man was always posing, as if his body were pasted on the pages of a fashion magazine, but he’d come to realise that Yuzo naturally settled into graceful poses. He couldn’t help it. That’s what he was. Willowy. Sinewy. Delicious. He pulled his gaze up to meet Yuzo’s eyes, heavy-lidded yet still wary. “In ten days, I give Suzuki the finger part.” He pinned Yuzo with a look, as if he could wipe away the guilt flooding the other man’s delicate face. “It’s completely worth it, Yuzo-chan. That’s what you don’t understand. It’s not just that Suzuki let us off easy. It’s that you’re worth saving.” Tears stung his own eyes now, blurring Yuzo’s image a bit, but not too much to see the other man’s eyes mist over again. “I can live easily without a piece of my finger. I already have. But I can’t live easily without you.” Yuzo bowed his head. When he lifted it again, tears shimmered in his huge eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. Kiku watched him a moment. Yin energy simmered in the air around Yuzo. Desire, gratitude, a sense of being overwhelmed by love all swirled in that force. But there was something else. Something that worried Yuzo almost as much as Kiku’s having to cut off part of his finger. Touching Yuzo didn’t give him visions, but he still wasn’t immune to sensing

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Yuzo’s thoughts. Yuzo was also worried about Ryu. Kiku’s heart surged at the distinctly unselfish part of Yuzo’s psyche. Reaching out, Kiku tilted the man’s face up again with several fingertips under his chin. Damn, Yuzo’s beauty stunned him each time. “Don’t worry about Ryu,” he murmured. “I keep telling both of you. I will never allow that sick bastard to have Ryu. I’m still connected. I will probably have to send Ryu out of the country for a bit.” He left it at that for the moment. He had further plans to meet with Ryu’s father and tell him the truth, throwing himself on Naboru’s mercy and hope that the man would protect his son once he understood what Taro Suzuki had done to him. He absolutely hated the thought of living here without Ryu, his deepest touchstone. Yuzo nodded but said nothing. His gaze, soft and full of trust, said everything. Kiku pulled off his tunic and tossed it aside. Yuzo’s gaze immediately darkened in a velvety way at the sight of Kiku’s bare chest. Wordlessly, Yuzo went up on his knees and splayed his hands on Kiku’s chest. “I love you, Kiku-chama,” he said softly. But before Kiku could answer, Yuzo leaned forward and captured his lips. A groan escaped Kiku’s throat. The mere touch of the other man’s lips rendered him helpless. All he could do was let Yuzo’s hands roam over his chest, tug softly at his nipples before stealing down to his pants and pushing them down. He loved this part of Yuzo, this aggressive, seductive little tiger. Yuzo slid his tongue across Kiku’s, back and forth and around in slow, sensuous circles. He seemed determined to keep their mouths connected as he worked Kiku’s pants down his hips, over his ass and let Kiku pull the draw string to his so that they dropped down. Yuzo’s seeking hand found his jade stalk. He didn’t need to worry about stroking it to hardness. Kiku had had a full erection from the moment he’d first kissed Yuzo minutes ago. A smile stretched Yuzo’s lips. He lowered himself down and swallowed Kiku’s hard dragon to the root. Kiku’s head fell back and he groaned again. The moist heat tugging on his cock left him even more helpless than the man’s kiss did. He braced his weight with his hands on the futon and let his head fall forward slightly so he could watch Yuzo’s dark hair moving with each slide of his mouth up and down the sensitive shaft. Yuzo was lathering him up, hot and wet. In the back of his fevered mind, Kiku knew why.

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With one final lick, Yuzo sat up. His eyes were wild, hungry, the lids heavy and his lips gleamed. He yanked his pants the rest of the way off and lay back, legs spread. “Please,” he said, reaching out. That was an invitation Kiku could never resist. A jolt of heat shot down his dragon and in the next breath he settled himself on top of Yuzo, the wet head of his cock seeking that delicious hole. The slippery head pushed right in. Yuzo’s body jumped and a small gasp escaped him. Then a look of euphoria settled over his pretty face. His eyes rolled partly back and that smile he had, the sated, hungry tiger look came to his lips. He tilted his pelvis upward, demanding more. Kiku’s eyes squeezed close at the feel of those hands grabbing his ass, pulling him in deeper. Yuzo’s tight channel swallowed him to the hilt as his mouth had done moments before. Kiku’s jaw clenched. He wanted to hold back, to make it last, but Yuzo wasn’t letting him. The smaller man squeezed the ring of muscle, tightening around his dragon, pulling, tugging greedily, not letting him slow down, making Kiku obey out of sheer hunger. Maybe it had been the sense of near loss for both of them that fuelled their mad lust. The idea swirled around in Kiku’s mind, through his haze of desire. His whole world filtered down to the beautiful hands on his ass, the incredible body underneath him, pulling his cock as deep inside as it could go. Pulling his heart even deeper. “Kiku-chama…Kiku-chama,” Yuzo chanted with each breath as Kiku rode him. His fingertips dug into Kiku’s ass cheeks, his dragon pushed against Kiku’s abdomen. That alone made Kiku feel wild. The sheen on sweat on their bodies made his stomach muscles slide easily against the shaft until Yuzo’s hands and jaw clenched. Yuzo’s slim, willowy body tightened and the warm splash of cum coated his chest. The sight of the milky cloud sent a shiver of pleasure through Kiku’s whole body. Yuzo pulled his legs back more and squeezed again. The increased friction sent Kiku closer and closer to the edge, no chance for control left. One more tug from Yuzo’s tight hold and he exploded, emptying his dragon’s cloud into the other man’s channel. Their bodies slid together for several more moments until Kiku was spent and their harsh breaths made a rhythm in the otherwise quiet room. “Thank you,” Yuzo whispered. His pale skin shone with sweat from their exertion and from the heat generated by their joined bodies.

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Kiku brushed a kiss across his lips. Then a second kiss, resting there, tasting Yuzo’s lips as if he could drink his essence. He pulled back and gazed down into the other man’s eyes. Those large brown pools looked up at him with love and admiration, silently telling Kiku he’d finally found someone he could trust and follow. The knowledge cascaded like warm massaging fingers through Kiku’s whole being. He still saw the stubborn fire in Yuzo’s gaze, the force that strangely, comforted him, but also made him realise that Yuzo still clung to certain ideas. Yubizume. The cop he knew tucked away somewhere in Ni Chome. No doubt, knowing Yuzo, they’d probably argue again in the near future about it. No matter. He’d deal with it. Yuzo was intelligent. Sharp. On the outside his appearance was that of a perfectly groomed J-Pop Johnny boy while inside, he had the spirit of a samurai. He’d soon come to understand and not fight about it. Kiku smiled down at him, kissed him again and laid his head on Yuzo’s chest. Yuzo’s arms closed around him, making him feel safe. Quiet. A quiet he would desperately need in the days to come, a healing touch to ease the pain of the sword… Ten days later…

It hurt like hell. Kiku winced with every little bump of the taxi as it took him and Yuzo and Koji back to the White Tiger from the emergency room. Even though his hand was heavily bandaged, the least amount of movement sent pain shooting straight to the tip of every finger. The second cut was definitely worse than the first had been, so much so that all he could do was feel drained. Suzuki would have to be content with having the finger part brought to him by Naoto. When he’d healed enough, he’d go to the yak’s office personally and show him the damage. Besides, Suzuki would probably get an extra little thrill in his asshole knowing that Fuju had had to go to the emergency room to stop the bleeding and get powerful painkillers. A hand on his shoulder made him look up. Yuzo. The other man’s eyes were full of pain and guilt. Good thing Kiku had kept him away while he did the cutting. Poor Yuzo would have completely freaked. “I’m sorry,” Yuzo whispered.

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Kiku shook his head. On his other side, Koji kept watch over both him and Yuzo in the quiet, courteous way he had. “Yuzo-chan, it’s over. Really and truly. I don’t regret one second. I’d take the rest of the finger off for any one of you in the White Tiger.” The taxi braked a bit too hard and Kiku grimaced. “Oh!” Yuzo cried softly. He put an arm around Kiku and drew him over to rest against his chest. “I’ll take care of you, Kiku-chama.” He followed his words with a soft kiss on Kiku’s head. That tiny press of Yuzo’s lips alone, helped ease the pain. Letting his eyes close, Kiku enjoyed the ease Yuzo’s embrace brought to his mind and body. The man holding him was an oasis. His mere touch alone lessened the pain in his hand to a bearable throb, a comfort he hadn’t had the first time he’d done yubizume. Yuzo pressed another soft kiss to his head and Kiku sagged against him, comfort flooding him as the cab drew closer to the White Tiger. Whatever was to come, he had a place to rest. Finally.

About the Author Sedonia Guillone is a multi-published, award nominated author of both m/f and m/m erotic romance. The man in her life is her inspiration and provides all the handson research she needs. When she’s not writing, she’s cuddling, watching samurai flicks and thinking about the next naughty, delicious tale she wants to write. Email: [email protected] Sedonia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

Also by Sedonia Guillone Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d Men of Tokyo: Sudden Bliss

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