Author: Akizuki Koh 
Illustrator: Keiko Nishi

Content Warning! 18+ Non-con/Yaoi/BL/Rape

This is the second half of the first book! Again, I have to state that this part has what is somehow a worse rape scene than in the first part… so please feel free to skip reading this if that will affect you. From what I remember there isn’t any rape in book 2, and there is enough recap to bring you up to speed on the context if you skip this one.

Read Part 1 here.

Because this completes the first book, I have compiled it as an .ePub or .pdf for convenient reading on an eReader device, which can be downloaded here: ePub: Fujimi Orchestra Book 1. 
PDF: Fujimi Orchestra Book 1

Or you can read Part 2 on Google Drive here, or just on Tumblr below the cut. So many choices!

Fujimi Orchestra Book 1

Part II: Air on the D String

Our permanent conductor, His Excellency Tounoin-san the Telephone Pole, curtly dismissed us from rehearsal with a simple “We’re done.”

All 42 of the Fujimi members said, “Thank you for your hard work!” in unison, and the rehearsal was over. I immediately went to wipe my violin; when I play, I put a handkerchief between the instrument and my chin to protect it, but I still can’t keep from getting a few drops of sweat on it. That’s the problem with practicing in the summer…

My glasses started to slip down. It would be fine if we could set the AC low enough so that we don’t sweat, but the Civic Center refuses to let us put it lower than 26 degrees on account of the Energy Conservation Initiative. That temperature isn’t nearly low enough to counteract the heat of 43 people working hard to play musical instruments, and the actual temperature of the room probably ends up being closer to 30 degrees — but that’s bureaucracy for you. They don’t bother listening to our complaints. And worse than people, wooden instruments are so delicate that there is no end to the number of things that can damage them: water droplets, humidity, sunshine, weather that’s too hot or too cold (and you have to worry about fingerprints on the body as well). It’s impossible to control the environment for all of those things. 

Anyway, as the concertmaster of the Fujimi Citizen Symphony Orchestra — also known as the Fujimi 2-Chome Orchestra — I, Yuuki Morimura, can’t let my 2 million-yen instrument (whose loan will finally be paid off in two months) be ruined by sweat. I was doing some emergency maintenance while worrying about how late I would leave when I heard a baritone voice say “Morimura-san” from somewhere above me. I had wanted to get out of here before I heard this voice; the owner was Kei Tounoin, our young genius conductor. He’s a great musician, but he has the worst sexual habits!

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee before you go home?”

“No, I mean…” damn it, I’m running out of excuses to keep turning him down! I managed an excuse, “I’m a little busy because it’s the end of the semester right now… I haven’t even had dinner yet because I had to grade papers.”

“Oh, that’s great, I was actually going to have dinner as well.” Tounoin cheerfully cut off my escape route; oh how one word can be fatal! Of course I tried to backpedal with another round of refusals, but since there were still orchestra members around us I thought better of it; rumors of a disagreement between the conductor and concertmaster would do more harm than good. So even though I have no desire to have dinner with Tounoin, being the concertmaster comes with certain responsibilities that have to be endured with patience and perseverance. To hide my sigh of resignation I took off my glasses and wiped them.

“Okay, well… I have to finish cleaning up here and then I’ll leave. Please, go ahead without me.” I was trying to put off the time I would be alone with him as much as possible.

But Tounoin glanced around and said, “Oh, you’re right,” and with that I saw the toes of his leather shoes turn and head towards a stand of folding chairs, which he noisily began to put away. He wanted to help me so that he could be alone with me as soon as possible.

Then I heard a woman’s voice say, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! We’ll take care of that!” Some of the ladies in the orchestra — who would normally leave before me and let me clean up alone — rushed to help because their hero, Kei Tounoin, was the one cleaning up. At 22, he’s a year younger than me, but without a hint of youthfulness in his appearance (or cuteness, if you ask me). He’s over 190cm tall and handsome in a way similar to Karajan in his youth (if you ask the women). His appearance isn’t flashy, but when he’s conducting his genius shows through his broad-mindedness, expression and leadership. On top of that, he went to a high-level arts university, only to drop out after a year because he had ‘nothing more to learn’ and went off to Europe to study abroad. With his glamorous background it was no wonder the women were all over him. But if they saw who he really is, women like Haruyama-san and Kimura-san would quickly change their tune!

When I finished putting away my violin, all that was left was the chair I was sitting on; the conductor’s podium and all the music stands were neatly stored. “Morimura-san, if you could stand up please, thank you.” Haruyama-san, the second violinist, kicked me out of my chair while Kimura-san carried it away, and then they were completely finished.

“Let’s go home,” Kawashima-san said, flipping her beautiful hair and picking up her flute case. She’s the one I’ve been in love with for the past three years, the one I proposed to and was rejected by, but the one I still love. 

“Hey, we’re going out to dinner, would you like to join us?” I asked them because I really didn’t want to be alone with Tounoin as much as I wanted to have dinner with Kawashima-san. She must have known why I was inviting her, but she turned me down, “Thanks for the invitation, but I have a TV show that I was planning to watch. Oh my God, it’s going to be starting soon!” And with that she quickly walked away. 

Kimura-san overheard her and turned to me, saying “Oh, it’s already that late! I have to hurry, I forgot to set my TV to record it!” Then Utsumi-san had a child waiting for her at home, and Haruyama-san — the ‘president’ of the Tounoin fan-club, who I thought would jump at the chance to go out with him — also seemed to have some reason to hurry home. Before I knew it, I was alone with Tounoin.

He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, which was slicked back and neatly trimmed at the nape of his neck. I was startled and hugged my violin case like a shield in front of me. “You don’t have to be so cautious,” he said with a bitter smile. 

I was afraid of what would happen if I let my guard down… it’s his fault. Thanks to him, I shudder with disgust whenever I hear any part of Tannhäuser. Even the mere mention of Wagner sends chills down my spine. Damn it, this gay bastard! I don’t want to let him see the resentment in my eyes, or really share any of my feelings with him.

Tounoin cheerily tapped me on the shoulder, “Shall we go? I know a place that is cheap and delicious, but they stop taking orders early.”

“You know…” I was about to say something, but stopped to look around and make sure everybody else had left, “… why should I go out to eat with you? You promised me that my relationship with you would only be musical, right?” 

Tounoin shrugged, a large gesture on his broad frame, “I swore that I would not take you sexually against your will again.”

“Stop! Don’t say it! I don’t want to hear it!” I cried, “How dare you say such a thing out loud!” I was going to go on, but I stopped out of embarrassment when I saw the familiar guard peek in from the doorway.

“It sounds like a lively debate. Are you having a meeting?” (Basically he was complaining that we hadn’t gone home, because he can’t lock the door until we leave.)

“Excuse us, we’re leaving now,”  Tounoin replied, pushing me by the shoulder and cutting off our conversation, “ Let’s talk at the restaurant. I have something to discuss about the double basses.” 

Tounoin was a taciturn man who was silent during and after rehearsal, but somehow knew how to choose his words effectively when he needed to. Like this, for example; he mentions this ‘double bass’ problem so I can’t refuse his invitation out of disgust. Oh yes, now there’s a serious matter to discuss… of course that’s unfair. He brought it up to deflect my ire. It’s not fair, it’s absolutely cunning! So I left the rehearsal hall to have dinner with Tounoin. As the concertmaster, I have to coordinate with the conductor now and then, but I would have preferred to put it off a lot longer…

Tounoin hummed softly as he descended the shabby stairs of the Civic Center. It was the Overture to the Magic Flute that we were playing. ‘I wish all that I had to worry about was playing the music,’ I thought to myself. ‘If only I could just be a happy concertmaster with a genius conductor…’  Six weeks ago, at the beginning of June, was when Tounoin came to Fujimi. It was the first night of the rainy season, drizzling on and off. For the three weeks after he appeared, I was like Salieri in Amadeus, jealous of the genius Tounoin and hating myself for it, even thinking of quitting Fujimi and abandoning the violin — my only reason for living. But then that hair-raising incident happened… 

Come to think of it, three more weeks have passed since then… the tears in my ass that made me afraid to go to the bathroom have completely healed, as have the abrasions on my back from my second mishap — but the memory of the incident hasn’t faded at all. I never thought that as a man, I would be in a situation where I feel the pain of a woman who had been raped.That thought never crossed my mind! And yet… and yet. The man who put me through all of that has managed to retie the string I wanted to break, and on top of that —

He said he understood that he hurt me and was sorry for what he had done, but then he ignored my desire to limit our relationship to that of conductor and concertmaster, asking me out for coffee or dinner every time I see him at rehearsal — just like tonight! At first I thought I could forget the incident by chalking it up to geniuses being crazy. But now I’m questioning the nerve of this guy. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what it feels like to be raped! What kind of mental gymnastics did he do to think that just saying “I was wrong” allows him to ask “Let’s have coffee” with the expectation that I’ll just smile and go with it? I don’t know where he got that idea! The fact that I continue to be the concertmaster of Fujimi may have given this gay pervert a strange sense of confidence…

We have different andantes. I’m about 175cm tall, and my legs aren’t particularly short, but Tounoin is at least 190cm. The difference in height translates into a difference in stride length, which means we have different walking tempos. Damn it. In addition, he wears slim-fitting clothes that make him look slender, but I know for a fact that there’s no escape if you’re accidentally caught by his absurd strength. So when I’m this close to him, within a meter like we are now, my nerves are constantly on edge. It’s exhausting; I hate it. Why did I have to have a man infatuated with me? What did I do to deserve this? As I was thinking, I realized that we had somehow entered Fujimi Ginza and were about to pass through. “Is it much further?” I didn’t want to talk, but I also don’t like to walk for a long time when I’m starving.

“It’s right around the corner,” Tounoin replied with a grin. It seems he is happy to be alone with me no matter what. I thought about killing whatever fantasy he had in his mind, saying something like ‘I’m not going out to dinner with you because I like you.’ Or maybe something else more powerful and fitting…

While I was trying to come up with something to say, Tounoin stopped and said, “Here we are.” It was about a minute’s walk along the railroad tracks from the east ticket gate of Fujimi Station, the first stop on the Fujimi Ginza line, where only regular trains stop. There was a red lantern that said Koryori Fujimi, the restaurant Tounoin had recommended. We got there just in time; a latticed door with modest indigo-dyed noren opened crisply from the inside, revealing a shiny head. Then a large body followed. I wasn’t quite sure, but he looked familiar, an old man I had seen at one of the stores in Fujimi Ginza. He smiled with a happy red face; I realized then that he was the owner of the bookstore. He raised one hand in front of his chest and waved a one-two-three sign.

“Is it profitable to be a conductor?” He seemed to be drunk. 

Tounoin politely replied to the bookstore owner, “If we don’t get donations from the shopping district, I’ll have to make my own baton.”

The bookstore owner laughed, “Oh is that so?”

“So then…”

“Oh, yes, go ahead.”

I suddenly remembered what Ishida-san had said to me after the first rehearsal we had with Tounoin. He said that Tounoin was very friendly once you got to know him. At the time I thought that if that was considered friendly, then mailboxes must seem friendly as well. Anyway, from the beginning he had a big attitude, and even though he was younger than me he didn’t look it at all…

“Go ahead,” he pushed me into the restaurant. “Ah, go to the counter over there, that’s good.” He gestured with his chin to the seats and then quickly sat down himself. If I didn’t want to sit in the seat he told me to, I would have to sit between him and an old man in work clothes that was making gurgling sounds… damn it. I really didn’t have a choice. But I’m not a woman, you’re not escorting me! (I still felt self-conscious because of his strength and masculine face, compared to my more feminine physique).

“Oh, it’s unusual for Sensei to have company. Is this your first time here?” The pleasant voice made me look up from my pondering. It was from an older man with a twisted headband, smiling and squinting at me from behind a glass case of ingredients.

“This is Morimura-san, Fujimi’s concertmaster. He is a very talented violinist and hard worker,” Tounoin said with a serious face. ‘Hey, what?!’ I thought. But the old man took what he said seriously.

“Oh, really? So Kuni-chan’s group is doing well, I guess. Well, let’s drink to that!” He smiled and offered me a glass of beer. I blushed, but I had no choice but to accept. Kuni-chan… ah, Nico-chan’s full name was Kunimitsu Ishida, right?

“Ahh, he’s exaggerating. I’m not that talented!” I mumbled as he poured our drinks, but he didn’t seem to hear me.

“Well, here’s to celebrating Fujimi’s future!”

“Kanpai~!” Said all the guests besides myself and Tounoin. All seven or so men seemed to be regular customers and were quick to join with the old man’s cheer.

“This place is one of Fujimi’s financial supporters,” Tounoin told me in a low voice, which came as a surprise to me. He held up his glass towards me, “For Fujimi.”

“… cheers.” He wanted to do the ritual of clinking glasses together, but I wasn’t obligated to go along with him. I didn’t know what to make of this situation; why should this treacherous rapist and me — his victim! — be toasting each other?

I’m trying to forget about what happened as much as I can, because I feel like I’ll go crazy if I remember it too clearly. It was only three weeks ago, on the worst Saturday ever, in a June when I had bad luck day after day. In bed with him… with Tannhäuser playing in the background, drowning out my protests and screams… No, forget it. I downed a glass of beer in one gulp to extinguish the pain in my heart. 

“Oh, you’re a good drinker, aren’t you!” The old man smiled and poured me another glass. ‘Oh shit oh shit oh shit!’ I thought to myself. Gulp, gulp, gulp…

“Okay, okay, three cups of sake, here you go.”

Damn it, I didn’t respond to Tounoin’s touch! I was in pain, agony, that’s all! I was in so much pain, so much! 

I heard him say, “Morimura-san,” and I glared at him. “You should eat something. What would you like?”

I don’t want to hear his voice! Ugh!

“…agedashi, edamame, two portions of those please. And then grilled fish with salt and sesame, rice and miso soup.” Tounoin ordered freely, and added, “Another bottle of beer as well.”

“I’m not going to let you get me drunk,” I muttered.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tounoin replied, “But I do want us to discuss what to do about Yoshihara-san’s departure.” When I unintentionally looked at him, he winked at me… I didn’t want to think about the meaning of that here; I start to lose all sense of reason when I remember anything about the incident. 

I pursed my lips… but he was right, we did need to talk about the bassist situation. “It’s bad luck that Yoshihara-san got transferred.” I couldn’t remember if it was a transfer or not, but either way he was leaving.

Tounoin nodded his head solemnly, “I don’t know what to do. Without him there’s only one other person to promote to principal.”

“I know the veteran player is leaving, but Yasaka-kun is still here so I think it’ll be ok. We’ll only have one double-bass, but at least we have the same number of cellos.” Tounoin looked skeptical, so I added, “I know he’s still a bit fuzzy on the do-re-mi, but he’s only been playing for a couple of months. Maybe it might be helpful if I gave him private lessons for a while.”

“That would be a waste of time,” said Tounoin.

“Of course he won’t get better overnight, but with Yoshihara-san gone we have to get him to do his best.”

“But Yasaka has no musical talent whatsoever.”

I looked at Tounoin, annoyed. “That may be true from your point of view, but Fujimi doesn’t write people off like that.”

“Don’t refuse what comes, but respect them as a friend.” If he had said it sarcastically, I would have left him then and there. But he said it in a very somber tone, so I continued.

“That’s the point. Everyone starts out as a beginner, after all. Even Kotani-san, the horn player, came here with no experience. And now he’s a section leader. Right?”

“In his case, he had a decent sense of pitch and motivation,” he said with the implication that Yasaka possessed no such things. Regardless, Yasaka is still a member.

“If you don’t like an orchestra with bad musicians, then… maybe you shouldn’t conduct Fujimi,” I said.

“I’m happy to conduct Fujimi,” he replied, “The members are willing to rush from their workplaces to experience the joy of music… but Yasaka doesn’t like music.”

“I think that’s your prejudice. If he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have paid a lot of money to buy a musical instrument, and he wouldn’t come to every rehearsal, even when he has such a hard time carrying it.”

“If that’s what you believe, then it’s not my place to disagree.” He looked unconvinced, but at any rate Tounoin withdrew his opinion about Yasaka. As far as music is concerned, he is a self-respecting and confident man. But when it comes to matters of personnel, he defers to me, since I’m Fujimi’s “mother;” he came up with this description of me to keep me in the orchestra. That I was necessary to Fujimi in this role. If we were being precise with this analogy, then Nico-chan Ishida was the one who gave birth to and raised Fujimi, and I have been working as the sitter for the past two years.

Tounoin made a face that said he would leave it in my hands, which irritated me a bit because it was obvious that he was doing it to make me in a better mood. Don’t think for a second that you’re going to cajole me into doing this… but I couldn’t deny that it did actually make me feel a little better.

“It’s true that Yasaka said he really wants to play jazz. His friends told him that he should build up his technical foundation in classical music, so that’s why he joined Fujimi. But regardless of the motivation, he does want to get better. And we need at least one double bass.”

“Even if you do give him lessons, how will you make time for it? Aren’t you busy?”

He was taking my excuse seriously. Well, it’s not like I’m lying about it. “I could give him lessons on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays when Fujimi doesn’t have rehearsal.” 

“But then you won’t have time to practice yourself.” He responded. 

I’m a part-time music teacher at a public high school, but I’m also an advisor for club activities after school, so I end up working full time. “It can’t be helped. I’ll have to do my own practice on Sundays or something.”

“Huh,” Tounoin pondered this. I gave him a look of sacrificial spirit. The fact is, summer vacation was coming up, which for me is a windfall. I can make quite a bit of money giving lessons in the music room when it’s not being used for club activities. Of course I don’t have to tell him all my business, so I won’t. For a while we concentrated on the meal in silence. The fried eggplant was quite good… the grilled fish with salt was also delicious.

“But where will you give the lessons?” Tounoin said eventually, while dissecting edamame. He peeled the pods with his long, shapely fingers and ate them. It was a vaguely insectlike gesture. 

“Well… that’s also a problem.” I sighed and downed a half glass of beer, realizing that I was getting close to my limit. I wasn’t about to let myself get drunk with him!

“I live alone, and my apartment is soundproofed. You could use it for Yasaka-kun’s lessons.” 

‘Of course I know that you live alone and your apartment is soundproofed!’ I screamed inside my head. If only I could tell him that I’ll never enter that horrible place again, that would put an end to this conversation. But I can’t do that in a place like this…

“Oh, do you have any reason not to do that?” I heard the old man behind the counter say as I struggled to find a way to get out of the situation. “Sensei, you’re really devoted to this orchestra, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Fujimi is a good ensemble,” Tounoin replied, “So yes, you can use it for your lessons if you like. Practicing on the riverbank or the baseball field is fine, but I think it’s not the best for getting good results.”

How did he know all that? My suspicions were aroused. “Are you stalking me…?” 

My whispered complaint didn’t reach Tounoin’s ears thanks to his interruption, “The concertmaster is the head of the orchestra, you know. A very important position.”

He’s making me sound like a poor student, and Fujimi’s a second-tier orchestra, after all.

“That’s right, Sensei. By all means, let him use your house. You don’t want him to fall behind, after all.”

Hey, hey! You don’t know how this ‘kindness’ can go wrong, old man! I was seriously shaken up, but…

“Then let’s do this: I will provide my apartment to Morimura-san from 8pm-12am Monday through Saturday, and all afternoon on Sunday. So…” he quickly reached into his pocket, “I’ll give you a key. I usually have music playing when I’m home, so don’t bother knocking.” 

I stared at the piece of metal he handed me, my heart shrinking in horror, “Yeah, but… don’t you think it will interfere with your studies?” I didn’t want to step into that nightmare ever again, so I desperately needed a way to refuse the offer.

“Oh, no need to worry about that. I’ll use headphones during your lessons.”

“If the concertmaster can’t practice properly, Fujimi will have no future. Right, Sensei?” The old man added.

“Yes, indeed.”

I didn’t want to be a party to this, but I also couldn’t talk my way out of the situation when, to all appearances, the two people persuading me were being nice and helpful. What a mess…I was forced to take the key. But there was still a way out; as long as I don’t use the key… yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll show him… this smooth-talking, perverted wolf in sheep’s clothing.

As we were leaving after our not-so-bad dinner, Tounoin gave me a serious look. “I’m well aware of what you’re worried about, but I think you should understand that I’m a man who doesn’t mix business with pleasure. I would like to state that the use of my apartment is a request of the Conductor to the Concertmaster. Good night.” 

My escape plan was nailed down. But… well, I’m not going. When I looked at my watch it was close to ten o’clock, but I took my usual route to the baseball field. Magic Flute was the song that the more experienced players wanted to do, and I picked it since Eine Kleine Nachtmusik had come together so well. But Mozart is hard, and Eine Kleine was an easier arrangement that we were able to master. But in Magic Flute there was a clear difference between the higher level and lower level players, so much that even Tounoin was on the verge of giving up on it. I don’t like to admit defeat, but it looks like we won’t be able to do this one… I’m the only one who would be able to play it perfectly. I can’t stand Tounoin as a gay man, but I do respect him as a conductor. That’s why I want to make sure that I can fulfill his demands, at least in a professional context as concertmaster.

The baseball field was dark as usual. I usually used the pitcher’s mound as my practice spot. I pulled out an insect repellent wipe and rubbed it on my arms and neck, wherever the violin wouldn’t touch, and then wiped the residue thoroughly from my fingertips. Then I took my violin out and started practicing. But… playing outdoors is the worst environment, to say the least. There is no reverberation, so all you can hear is the sound directly underneath your ear. You can hear what you’re playing, but you really have no idea about the sound quality. So the idea of using Tounoin’s apartment, which was designed with acoustics in mind, would be an attractive alternative if it weren’t for the man himself, but…. I’m not going. I’m not going! Who in their right mind would go there? Tounoin… let me tell you something, I’ve been honing my skills like this since I was a student. I’ll prove to you with my sound that there’s no need to use your apartment.

——

At the next rehearsal, Yoshihara-san told me he had received his transfer letter as of August 1st, and this Saturday would be his last day at Fujimi. I was hoping that maybe it was a false alarm — which was not impossible — but the reality made me despair. We decided to have a farewell party after rehearsal on Saturday. Even though the mainstay of our harmony was leaving, there was nothing I could do about it. Of course, it’s my responsibility to train the new mainstay, and I was going to do my best.

“You’re talking about private lessons?” Yasaka mumbled when I approached him with the proposal. He was a first year college student, and I heard he was renting an apartment near Ishida-san’s coffee shop. He had decided to do whatever he wanted when he entered the University, and used his money to buy a book on bass technique and a cheap used double bass (I didn’t even know there was such a thing). He’s a stocky guy with a greasy face, and has been attending rehearsal diligently, but I can’t quite tell if he’s enjoying it or not. 

“But… I can’t afford lessons.”

I knew that he would say that, and hesitated before saying, “That’s okay, there’s no need to pay. I will teach you.”

He looked at me with a skeptical face, “Morimura-san, you’re a teacher?” 

You son of a bitch, who did you expect was going to teach you? “Violin and Double Bass are both in the string family, so I can teach you the basics. I really wish that Yoshiwara-san could give you lessons, but he said he doesn’t have time for that because he’s busy with his remaining work here.”

“So… would 1pm on Sunday work?” He said rather softly, like he was asking me out on a date, but I didn’t think much of it.

“I’d prefer weekday evenings if possible. I can’t bring outsiders into the high school’s music room, even if I’m there.” As soon as I said that, Yasaka’s face changed in some way… I didn’t know how to describe it, something like a puzzled expression that I couldn’t really read.

“I work part-time from five to nine on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I have four private tutoring jobs.”

“So… would you want to do it after Fujimi’s rehearsal?”

“That would mean I’m playing four hours in a day?” I told him I do that much every day, and I used to play eight or nine hours when I was a student, but Yasaka seemed to think that was outrageous. “Then, when would it be convenient for you?”

“Well, you seem to be busy with a lot of things, so maybe we could just do it during the summer vacation. When Yoshihara-san leaves, you’ll be the only bass player, and since it’s a very important part I want to make sure you do your best.” I thought to myself, ‘Why am I bothering…’ but I tried to persuade him. I’ve dealt with the orchestra missing parts many times before, so I wanted to preserve the current state of Fujimi if at all possible, where we have everything covered by at least one person. And in order to do that, we really needed somebody who was playing the bass. 

Yasaka finally answered, “…on Mondays and Wednesdays from about 10pm I’m available.” I was grateful that he agreed to the lessons, though I thought he would be a bit more motivated. But if it’s so late, then it seems that doing lessons at the riverbank or the baseball field won’t be an option after all, so l guess I have to accept the only alternative… very, very reluctantly. After all, Yasaka would be Fujimi’s only bass player starting next week.

“So, where should I meet you?”

“Well, we are going to be using Tounoin-san’s place, so meet me in front of the station and we’ll go there together.”

“Tounoin-san’s place?”

“Yes. He has a soundproofed apartment. My apartment doesn’t allow any loud noises like practicing, especially late.”

He didn’t look too thrilled about that. “Will Tounoin-san be there?”

“Shouldn’t he be at his own apartment?” 

He stared at me and mumbled something to himself, then said in a sulky tone: “I don’t really care for that guy, you know?”

It was the first time I had heard somebody from the group with that opinion; I thought everybody was a fan of Tounoin. “Are you afraid of him or something?”

“I mean… no, it’s just that he ignores me.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care for people who aren’t good players.” I didn’t want to confirm what he thought.

“I don’t think that’s the case. If you demand this and that from somebody who just started, they’ll just shrivel up, right?”

“…maybe so. But I still don’t feel good about it. I don’t think you understand, Morimura-san.”

“I guess I don’t.”

“Morimura-san and Tounoin-san, you guys are really friendly with each other, right? And I’m a misokkasu.”

I was annoyed. He and I are friendly… that’s outrageous! But of course I didn’t say that out loud. Instead, I smiled and said, “I don’t think you’re a misokkasu. Actually, I have high hopes for you.”

Yasaka glanced up at me and blushed faintly. “I’d like to get better as soon as possible…”

“Okay, so tomorrow, Wednesday, in front of the station at 9:30pm?”

“No!… I mean, I might be a little late…”

“Okay. What book are you using for study?”

“Um, it’s called ‘Bass Basics.’” Oh man, it’s for jazz bass.

“Okay, bring it with you. If I find some other books that look helpful, I’ll bring those as well.” I was just ending my conversation with the ambivalent Yasaka and was about to head home when I noticed Tounoin looking at me.

“Coffee?” 

Huh? Come on, enough with that!

——-

And it was Wednesday, the last day of school for the semester… and I had to go to Tounoin’s apartment in the evening. Whenever I had time to think, I would tell myself over and over that it was no big deal. It’s nothing, he just forced me to have sex with him there. It’s like being attacked by a rabid dog. If I had been a woman, I’d have to worry about pregnancy, but in my case it was just assault and injury; I could forget it and put it behind me. Besides, it wasn’t like I was going over to Tounoin’s place by myself, I’ll be safe. But no matter how many times I told myself that, my heart kept pricking and my head kept repeating, ‘I don’t want to go.’ 

Time slipped by, and before long it was time to head to the rendezvous point. I grabbed my violin case and left the apartment with a million grudges against Tounoin in my heart. It was a hot and humid night, and I had to keep pushing my glasses up as I walked. I idly wondered if it counted as school property if tomorrow was the first day of summer vacation? It was already past nine o’clock, but there were still quite a few people walking around Fujimi Ginza. Most of them were businessmen who seemed to have stopped by a beer bar, but there were also a few high school students here and there; I wondered if the kids riding bikes in pairs were junior high students. It was hard not to look at everything through a teacher’s eyes as I walked the 100 or so meters through the shuttered shopping street at the station. I still had about five minutes before I was supposed to meet Yasaka, and he was nowhere to be seen. 

I stood in the shade of a pillar where I wouldn’t be in the way of people going in and out of the ticket gate and wiped the sweat off my neck. We ran out of air conditioners this year, too. It was kind of boring to just stand around, so I decided to flip through the bass guitar book I bought at a specialty shop in the town over. ‘It looks like the strings are E2 - A2 - D3 - G3…’ 

Yasaka’s situation is unusual. In the case of jazz, the technique most frequently used is pizzicato, or fingerpicking, while in classical playing bassists use the bow more often. In terms of difficulty, playing the double bass is probably many times harder than playing an electric bass… so why in the world would anybody consider classical music a shortcut if they really wanted to play jazz? Classical is much more fussy about being true to the notes that are written and following the marks of the composer. Jazz is all about improvisation; they’re completely different worlds. The piano is also used in both genres, but while a jazz pianist can play classical, if you ask a classical pianist to play jazz… even a top-notch pianist will only be able to give a lousy, square performance. I… think Yasaka misunderstood something when he started playing with this idea. 

It was already past 10pm when Yasaka came hobbling down the street with his huge instrument in a case bag. He made his ‘Sensei’ wait for over thirty minutes and the only thing he said was, “It’s hot,” while wiping his sweaty face with the palm of his hand. The brown t-shirt he rubbed his hands on had sweat stains under the arms and around his chest.  “Is it close?”

“Close enough, I guess.” He groaned. “Here, I’ll help you.” The weight wasn’t much, but the two-meter tall stringed instrument was awkward to carry. I was drenched in sweat as we reached Tounoin’s apartment building, and we pushed into the elevator. No sooner was I relieved than we had to get out and take the stairs, since the room was on the seventh floor. I smacked my tongue at the discomfort of my sweaty body sticking to my shirt, and when we got to the door I didn’t bother knocking, but straight away opened the door with my duplicate key.

Boom! I was almost knocked out by the ‘Fate’ theme that came pouring out of the door. Nothing had changed in the room with only an audio set and a bed, designed in that weird trapezoid shape. In that bed, I… I was in the room with Tounoin… That was the moment I started thinking, and the sensation of that moment came vividly back to my body. The feeling of his huge dick going in and out of my ass, and the touch of his slimy, crawling tongue flashed in my head so realistically that I bit my lips with a mixture of disgust and humiliation. I never felt anything! It hurt, it hurt like hell and made me crazy! Oh… I should never have come here, for any reason… Suddenly I remembered that I wasn’t alone when something bumped into my backside. Yasaka was behind me, and I was holding a double bass in the doorway, so there’s no turning back now.

“Hey, hold on!” I yelled to Yasaka. I didn’t know what to do, Tounoin was hunched over on the floor in a triangular position between the five speakers, staring at the red line on the component system. He was flipping through the score that was spread on his lap, following along with the music. I flailed and waved at him, but he didn’t notice; he was completely engrossed in the music. We had no choice but to go in, if I didn’t close the door soon, I’m sure somebody would come up here ready to kill because of all the noise. 

I gestured for Yasaka to come in and close the door, then approached Tounoin, who was still staring at the component system. I poked him on the shoulder, using only the minimum amount of fingertip — I’ll have to disinfect this finger later. Tounoin turned around and looked up at me and nodded, while I tried to avoid making eye contact. He seemed unhappy. Without smiling he went over to the console and put headphones on, looking like something out of Eguchi with his back all hunched over. He plugged in the jack and everything became quiet. Honestly, even though the room was about 20 tatami mats, it was still too small to be listening to an orchestra at that volume. 

“It’s a great setup.” I heard Yasaka say, and I was still hearing the “Fate” theme echo in my ears. “I guess Phillips really is the best for listening to classical music.” Seeing that Yasaka was going to go look at the audio equipment, I quickly pulled his sleeve.

“Don’t get in the way, he’s studying conducting.” I was being very attentive because of the way Tounoin looked, he didn’t even smile when he saw me. 

“Oh really?”

“Probably. I think he’s memorizing the score.”

“I’m not very good at memorizing music.” Indeed, during practice Yasaka seems to spend more time looking at the music than playing; Tounoin strictly keeps his instruction of “not taking your eyes of the baton while you’re playing,” so he has no choice to stop when he doesn’t know the next note. But ‘he’s not good at memorizing music.’

“Okay, let’s get started.”

“Huh?” Yasaka unzipped the huge case bag and pulled out the instrument; it had an incredibly beat up body. He took the bow out and shook it around a few times, then looked at me with an expectant expression. 

“What about tuning?” I asked.

“I tuned on Saturday with Yoshihara…” he answered.

“…You know, the bass is different than the piano, you have to tune it every day.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” I had a bad feeling about how this would go… but he’s a student that needs to be instructed. Smile, smile! “So do you know how to do that? Tuning?”

“Ah…” I watched as Yasaka patted his case bag pockets until he found the tuning fork.  He grabbed the handle with two fingers and smacked it against the body of the instrument, then brought it up to his ear. Then he put the fork in his pocket and plucked the E string, then the A, D and G strings. He went back to the E once more time and then looked at me blankly. Probably the only thing that kept me from yelling at him in that moment was my two years of experience teaching kids. What the hell has he been doing for the past two months? It’s not just that he can’t match the notes, he doesn’t know how to do it at all. How do you tune the E string with a tuning fork in A?

“Yasaka-kun, I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from Yoshihara-san,” I said, desperately trying to contain my anger.

He nodded, “Yes.”

“So what did you learn and how much?”

“Well…” he looked up at the ceiling with a carefree look on his face, “I’m not sure —“

“… how do you keep the strings in tune?”

“Well I learned how to do it the first time, but it took so long for me to do it myself that Yoshihara-san agreed to do it for me. Also, how to read music, and… uh…”

“Do you remember which string you start with to tune?”

“The low one.” I stared at Yasaka’s face for two seconds and he added, “of course.” It was stupid of me to ask. It’s not Yoshihara-san’s fault, I told myself. Part practice was only for an hour before Tounoin came in, and since he couldn’t practice at home anyway, he was allowed to keep his bass at the Civic Center, which meant the only time he had on the instrument was that one hour before rehearsal. He didn’t have the time to spare for taking care of a novice player. I can understand that, though!

“OK, fine, I get it. Okay, okay. Let’s start with how to tune the strings.” Yasaka made a frustrated face. I tried to be patient as I began to explain: “The orchestra is made up of many different kinds of instruments, each with a different tone, to create the harmony, but in order to do that effectively one must be able to play the correct notes. For example, whether the violin or the bass plays a G, it must be the same pitch.” I looked at him in the eyes to see if he understood and he nodded. Damn it, this wasn’t what I wanted to be doing either. “I’m sure you won’t be able to do it right away, but it’s important. You can tell how good a performer is by how quickly and accurately they can tune their instrument. We always start with the A string. Could you give me your tuning fork?”

“But it’s in tune already!” If I were somebody who was more demonstrative, I would have been scratching my head. The A string was at least a semitone off, and the rest was a mess! But as the teacher I persevered.

“Let’s see. We can compare it to mine.” I took out my violin and quickly but carefully checked the tuning. “Let’s go with G then. Play the open G.”

“Oh… G, is this a G?”

“Yes, that’s right. The names are read in German: C for tse, D for dae, ae, f, ghee, aa, ha.”

“Hmm. So the “D” in C is ‘tse’? That’s a bit of a hassle to remember.” I smiled.

“You can start with do-re-mi, but if you don’t understand that there’s a ‘tse’ there or an ‘ah’ there, you’ll be in trouble.” My advice seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Oh dear… “Ok, once again, I’ll start with the open G string.”

“What? Oh-chee? Oh, ‘open G.’”

“Don’t press down on it!”

“What? Uh…” he let go of the entire neck.

Nononono! With a thud, the bass collapsed and the strings buzzed. ‘Calm down!’ I shouted to myself. ‘Don’t yell at him, yes, take a deep breath…’

“You know if you let go with your hand, it’ll fall over, right? I meant not to press the strings down with your fingers.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

Don’t stare, don’t laugh. I held up my violin and waited for him to play. Yasaka pulled the bow across the G string, and what came out was an indescribable sound that was, of course, more than a semitone out of tune with my G. “So does it sound like mine?”

“It sounds ok to me.”

“So you think it’s right?”

“Is it not?”

…I was wrong. Yoshihara-san gave up teaching him how to tune not for lack of time, but because he wanted to save his ears. But I can’t give up, and he can improve his sense of pitch with training. I’ll do whatever it takes to teach you!

“Give me that,” I took the double bass from Yasaka and adjusted the crazy out of tune G. ‘Damn, this mammoth instrument takes a lot of strength to turn the pegs and make sound on…’ “Okay, try it now. Here you go.”

“Is it right this time?”

“…Yes.” He’s not only deaf, but thick-headed as well! “Okay, let’s fix the other strings, starting with the A, then the lowest string, the E. Then we’ll tune the D and G strings, in that order. Give me your tuning fork.”

He reluctantly took the tuning fork out of his pocket and handed it to me. I held it in my right hand and flicked it with my left index finger, holding it close to his ear so he could hear the sound. 

“Now play.” He pulled the bow across the string. “Oh, no, no. I don’t know if you could tell when I played, but you should play a harmonic. Don’t push the finger down to the fingerboard, just lightly touch and play smoothly with a fast bow. When you do that, you get a falsetto sound that matches the octave of the tuning fork. Basses sound two octaves lower, so I use the falsetto to match the note.”

He groaned. “Relax. Just play smoothly.” The sound that came out was rough… so he has no sense of pitch, and a bit of a bump on the thick head.

“Ummmm…” I put my arm around Yasaka’s bow in a hug and put my hand on his. 

“Okay, relax. That’s right. You are still using too much pressure, so…” It was hard to reach the front of his bow when I was so close to his back, and Yasaka reeked of sweat. I was deeply relieved when he finally managed to get the hang of how to produce the harmonics; it smelled like he hadn’t bathed in days. “Alright, now let’s match it to the tuning fork.” I dinged it several times.

“It’s too low, right?”

“…Ahh…” I bit back a sigh and dinged the tuning fork again. As I listened, I tightened the string until it matched. “No, while you play,  you would tighten the string with your left hand if you do it yourself… yes, tighten it…. No, I’m not done yet… just a little more.” By the time the A string sounded correct, my precious fingertips ached from the repeated flicking of the tuning fork. “OK, now for the E string. Play the A and E strings together to play the ‘La’ chord. But…

The usual way of doing this would be to play the chord with the bow in the right hand while tightening or loosening the pegs with the left to adjust the pitch, but it would be impossible for Yasaka to understand chords right now. I was wondering what I should do, when I suddenly noticed something. On the fingerboard, next to each string, there were dots marked in yellow and next to each was a letter like ‘La’ or ‘S’ or…

“Did Yoshihara-san write this for you?”

Yasaka answered proudly, “The senior who sold the bass to me wrote them. He’s in a band.”

“I see…” Even though I felt defeated, I decided to rely on the kindness of that ‘Senior.’ The bass is an instrument that is not easily heard in the middle of the ensemble, even by the person who is playing it. However, it is a vital part of the harmonic support, forming the foundation of the pitch with their deep sound. The performers often have to adjust by intuition, but in this situation I think it’s okay to just write it down. 

“Well let’s see,” I said, “press down on the A or ‘la’ part of the E string, and adjust the E peg so that the open A or ‘la’ note on the A string matches. Are you ready to try it?”

Yasaka sighed in reply, but I pressed forward with the lesson. After all, he couldn’t start practicing anything if he couldn’t get the strings in tune, and once he had that down then the song would give him something to work on. It was not exciting, but it was necessary to have patience.

“Yes, play both strings at once. No, the finger on the E string is floating. You need to press down firmly until the string is touching the fingerboard… OK… now play the harmonic. No, you’re pushing too much, relax. No, but you still need to hold the E firmly!”

I didn’t want to hug his back, which smelled like a carnivore pen at the zoo more than a man, but I had no other choice because this was more difficult to describe with words. I needed to teach these practical skills through feel. “Look, don’t tighten your grip on the bow.” I put my right hand on his right hand and my left hand over his left; he was the puppet and I was the puppeteer… but his head stinks! He was a little shorter than me, and the stench from his head went right into my nose. “Relax, I’ll do it for you. Remember, hold the bow lightly, and stroke the string…” When I breathed through my nose I smelled the stink more, and it made me gasp while I fumbled with his hand desperately. At any rate, the double bass is an instrument that requires much more force than the violin to press the strings, and Yasaka either didn’t understand that I was telling him to relax or he was being stubborn. It felt like we were in a strength contest. 

Once he seemed to get it I released myself, and the first thing I did when I was away from Yasaka’s back was to breathe in gulps of untainted air. He didn’t seem to notice. “Then, let’s continue tuning. Go ahead and play the notes as they are now. Okay, the playing is good, but the notes don’t sound right. It’s too high. Too high! Sorry. Loosen the E string, just a little. No, now you’re tightening it. Other way, loosen it! Okay, let’s play another note… a harmonic, just lightly glide! Yes, lightly! Uh, it’s still high.” 

Just when I thought I had finally tuned the E and A strings, I accidentally moved the peg of the A string when I was trying to tune the D next door, so then I had to re-tune the A, and work even more to tune the D and G because they got out of tune for some reason…

I was exhausted by the time the four strings were tuned. But now I could finally start my lesson.

“Then let’s go ahead and play something simple. The Magic Flute we’re playing in Fujimi is fine, but for now I think that you should start with some exercises. The sooner you nail the basics thae better,” I said while mopping the sweat from my face with a handkerchief, my glasses slipping off. 

Yasaka replied with a loud voice, “Do you do this every time?”

“Do what?”

“The tuning.”

“I told you it’s important.”

“But, is it really necessary to do it every time? It’s fine as long as you’re in tune with the other instruments, right?”

‘If that’s the case, why don’t you just do it whenever the mood strikes you?’ I screamed in my mind. How could such a crass, insensitive and unprincipled person even think of playing classical music? I thought now I understood why Yasaka’s “friend” had told him to play classical first if he wanted to play jazz — maybe it was an excuse to get rid of him. But it was Fujimi’s tradition and policy to accept people who couldn’t read music as long as they brought their own instruments, and once accepted we would take care of them so they could enjoy music with us. It’s true that many newcomers are surprisingly hard to take care of, but if you get angry with them you’re not qualified to be a leader in Fujimi. Maybe I’m not qualified to be a leader.

“You see, strings expand and contract when they’re left alone. So, even if you have marked the notes, it doesn’t mean that you’ll always produce the same sound by pressing down in those spots. You should always tune your instrument before practicing so the sound is consistent.”

Yasaka made a face of utmost disappointment. I felt like a climber who had just started to climb a precipice with his bare hands. But no matter if he was laughing or crying, he was the only one who could play bass for Fujimi. I consoled myself by saying that he would eventually understand the importance of tuning. 

“Well, I’ll help you get used to it.” With eyes aching from sweat or from the exhaustion of trying to match the notes, I looked in his book and found the page for Lesson 1, “Oh… I see you don’t have a music stand here. I’ll bring one for you next time. I have the score, so you can play it from here.” I said while spreading the book in front of Yasaka.

“It’s twelve o’clock,” Yasaka said. “Sorry, but I have to work at eight in the morning over vacation.”

I glanced at my watch; it was four minutes until twelve, but he was ready to go home. You can lead a horse to water… “I see. So I guess let’s call it a day.”

“Yeah.”

As I watched Yasaka begin to put away his instrument, I felt like the outlook was bleak. His lack of skill and knowledge could be dealt with, and he doesn’t seem to be irredeemably tone-deaf. But he lacks the passion for playing music that is the most important foundation of all. He’s falling short in a way that neither I nor anyone else can help him with… Tounoin was right. But, but… he’s the only double bass player Fujimi has now!

 “Can we meet here next week?” 

“Huh?” He replied without a hint of understanding, “Maybe I can get here.” I couldn’t tell from his tone whether he meant that he could get to the apartment by himself or if he could come to the lesson at all. But frankly I didn’t care to find out. I’m really tired of this guy!

“All right.”

“Thank you.” I watched Yasaka heft his bass case and stagger to the door.

I turned around when a baritone voice said, “Are you done?” 

That’s right, this is the wolf’s apartment! “Oh, thank you for letting us stay so late,” I said as I hastily packed my violin in its case; I had to leave with Yasaka…

“Yasaka-kun, thank you for your hard work. Morimura-san, may I have a few minutes of your time?” Tounoin was trying to hold me back. Of course not!

“No, sorry. I promised to help Yasaka take his instrument home since he’s walking all the way.” I felt like it was a convincing excuse and hurriedly followed Yasaka. I was relieved to close the door; jeez, there was no way I would be caught alone in his room. However, the escape mission wasn’t a complete success. I was glad to have escaped Tounoin safely, but now I was forced to carry out the ‘promise’ I used as an excuse; Yasaka had made me help carry his instrument all the way to his apartment, which was completely out of the way from my place. 

It was a newer apartment than mine, in the middle of the building on the second floor, with little sunlight. I frowned as I stepped into the room, holding my violin in one hand and the bottom of Yasaka’s large case bag in the other. Unfortunately I didn’t have an extra hand to pinch my nose; the stench this time came from the pile of dishes filling the sink in the kitchen area right next to the door. There was also a pile of leftover food, and the smell was, of course, rotten leftovers. While I was looking I noticed a few glistening cockroaches that came crawling out from the plates and hid in the teacups. Ugh… not to say I’m a neat freak, but I’m a tidy person who considers cleaning, laundry and clearing the table after meals as part of my daily routine. I don’t like to complain about how other people live, but I also don’t want to have to deal with this kind of filth. My job was done, so I didn’t need to hang around. 

As I was about to go through the door, I was grabbed by the arm. Not just grabbed, yanked back — roughly! The door was slammed shut.

“W-What?”

“You know ‘what,’ right?” Yasaka said and laughed. “Come on in, Morimura-san.” I really didn’t want to go any further into this dump of a room, nor spend any more time with this man. 

“No, it’s getting late. Please excuse me.”

Yasaka laughed again, “But how will you sleep if you go home now?”

I didn’t know what he was trying to say, but I had a feeling it was unpleasant. I turned my back to Yasaka and said, “I have no problems falling asleep. Good night.”

“What are you doing?” He yelled, and suddenly he grabbed me from behind. To be precise, one arm wrapped around my chest and the other grabbed my crotch.

“Wha-!? What are you thinking?” Yasaka laughed.

“I saw you eyeing my big man… you’re dying to have him.”

“Come on, come on, come on.”

“You want to suck it? It feels better when a man plays the shakuhachi,” he said while breathing hard and fast. I had goosebumps all over my body from disgust.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to worry, Morimura-san, I won’t tell anyone!”

“Stop it!” I swung my elbow back as hard as I could, and it made contact with Yasaka like a volleyball. 

Yasaka shouted, “Oh my God! I’m not going to let you do this to me!” He yelled, and I was hit by a fist that flew out from the side, connecting with my face. My cheekbone cracked and my glasses flew off. “Don’t come here and make a fool out of me!” I took another hit and fell back. Grabbing me by the collar, Yasaka pulled me up and, with his other hand, pulled down the zipper on his pants in front of my face. “You want this, don’t you? I know you do, Morimura-san. I’m sure you just made up that lesson as an excuse…”

My eyes were transfixed by the object bulging out from the window of his briefs, and I felt like the heroine in a horror movie whose gaze is drawn by the fear of an emerging monster. At that moment I was completely overwhelmed at his veiny, reddening dick the thickness of a zucchini that emitted a strong stench of male lewdness. 

“Come on, come on.” He pressed it against my lips, but I could not undo the spell of transfixion. I clenched my lips tighter when he pointed it at me, and tried to turn my face away. Yasaka laughed and grabbed my ears. “Don’t be shy, Morimura-san. I know you were itching to take a bite, all while trying to make a hard excuse of teaching me to tune. You were thinking about this the whole time you were touching me, even though you were hiding it. You were panting for it.”

Every time Yasaka spoke, he rubbed his disgusting thing on my lips, chin and nose, smearing its filth all over me. But what was even more disgusting was his insane assumption. Which is why I went to say, “Why would I do that? I’m not gay! I’m not gay!” But… the moment I opened my mouth, he shoved it down my throat and I choked on my words and my breath. “Ggggghhn!” I was blinded by disgust and anger, but his thing pushed my mouth open until my jaw almost came off, and then plunged deep into my throat.

When I was a kid, I hated doctors not because of the injections, but because of the pain of getting the tongue depressor stuck in my throat. But compared to what was happening now…! I clawed at the leg that was in front of me, trying to escape somehow. Yasaka was unfazed. As I struggled to breathe, I pulled against the hands that held my ears.

“Oh, does my cock taste good? No? Oh no, it’s too big, that’s what everybody says. But when I put it in here…” I couldn’t breathe with the mouthful of it shoved down my throat all the way to the back. My whole body began to shake, unable to vomit what had come up from my stomach. I’m gonna die…

“Come on, Morimura-san! Come on, let’s go!” Yasaka shouted and pushed me away. On the verge of choking, I almost fell down and something hot hit me in the face! I almost fainted as I was bombarded. The reason I suddenly came to my senses was because I felt a sharp pain when something started to enter my ass. When I raised my head suddenly, the bastard was grinning between my legs; somehow he had stripped my lower half. “I’ll make sure you have a good time,” he said.

He then grabbed one of my legs and lifted it over his shoulder… and I kicked! I kicked and kicked and kicked until finally I managed to hit Yasaka in the jaw. Damn it, one more hit. I kicked him in his grinning face and jumped up. I grabbed my pants and briefs and ran for the door, barely managing to catch my violin case on the way out. I ran down the stairs, shoved my legs into my pants while looking behind me, and put my briefs in my pocket. I ran the rest of the way without looking behind me. It was only when I was out of breath and couldn’t run anymore that I realized I had left my shoes behind. I was desperately hanging onto a light pole when I finally stopped.

I was so angry that I felt like I was going to die if I couldn’t shout, but it was quiet and still in the middle of the night. “DAMN IT!” I screamed, my voice shooting up an octave. I started walking. My face, chest and pants were all rumpled with the filth I had been exposed to, and the smell of that beast clung to me. The horrible feeling in the back of my throat… my ears that hurt from being grabbed… my chest that burned from choking. I felt dizzy… I vomited as I staggered to my feet. And then vomited again and again.

I don’t know why I chose that place to go. I climbed up the long stairs on wobbly legs, searching for the door with glazed eyes, and knocked on it. Knock-knock-knock… that door, which was not supposed to open with a knock, opened. I reached out with a trembling hand to the collar of the resident’s shirt, which was at eye level with mine. I grabbed it and shook it.

“Shit! Your face…!” He put his arm around my shoulder and gently dragged me inside. As soon as the door closed behind me I was crying and miserable – there was no way I was in my right mind. No way! Because I was crying on and on in front of Tounoin, spilling out all the embarrassment and pathetic feelings in my heart.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” he stroked me gently on the head. So when I regained my composure and the rage left me, I found myself sobbing in his arms. First I blushed, then reproached myself. I tried to escape from his arms, but he wouldn’t release me.

“No, let go of me!” 

He caught me in his chest and said, “I’m not going to do anything, I swear. Trust me.”

…The fact that I believed him means I wasn’t completely sane. Not only did I let the strong arms of Tounoin hold me, but I also felt the soothing andante coming from his thick chest… ha! But it’s true that he was a gentleman. 

“Was it Yasaka?” I nodded to the gentle baritone whisper. “Are you hurt? It seems…” he said, while his cold fingers gently stroked my beaten cheek.

“No… I kicked the hell out of him.”

“You can use the shower. It looks like you were shoved into a garbage pail.”

“More like a vomit pail.” Tounoin laughed, and I did too… I don’t know how I managed to.

“There’s mouthwash on the shelf in the bathroom.”

“For…?”

“For disinfection…” I wonder what gave Tounoin the idea that his own kisses would be more effective. But the fact that it was accompanied by a whispered ‘I love you’ somehow made the after-effects of what that animal had done to me go away — I was definitely not in my right mind!

In the bathroom I was sent to I took a near-boiling shower, scrubbing my entire body until it tingled like a shining example of cleanliness. I also gargled until I was satisfied that my mouth was clean as well. As I left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, I was greeted by a clean set of clothes and the quiet sound of violin music coming through the door. Bach’s Aria on the G String… the music seemed to be set on repeat, as it was playing for the third time when I finally opened the door to the main room. Tounoin had disappeared. He left a pair of sandals in the doorway as if he expected me to use them. I put on the borrowed clothes — which had too long of sleeves and rolled up hems — put on the sandals, and went home. On the way I realized that I had lost my glasses as well as my shoes, but I was too exhausted to go back and get them. I checked to be sure I locked the door four times and then fell into the futon with my borrowed clothes on. Thankfully I didn’t have any nightmares.

—

It was Thursday. I went to rehearsal feeling like a vengeful demon; I was going to fire that animal right on the spot if he dared to show his face. He might say something like, “Why?” Because he has zero comprehension, but then I would be sure to tell him everything. Yeah, I’ll tell him exactly what he did to me in front of everyone! The rehearsal started at 7 o’clock in the evening, with the members of the orchestra arriving at different times to practice their individual parts. Tounoin arrived five minutes before eight to start the full rehearsal. That night I was the first one to arrive, of course. I took out about forty folding chairs, music stands and the tuner from the storage at the back of the main conference room, pulled the conductor’s stand into position, and tuned my violin.

When an orchestra tunes their instruments, the oboe is the first to give the A, and then everyone tunes to their pitch. But Fujimi has always used a tuner to do that; it was a device about the size of a book, which could be set in advance to play the A at the desired hertz, such as 440 or 442. Or you could play a note and adjust the pitch of the instrument by watching the needle swing. I only used it that way if I was tired or not very confident about my sense of sound, but it was a lifesaver for those who didn’t have trained ears. As I was tinkering with it, I had an idea: I should have let Yasaka use this to tune his strings. At least then I could have gotten the A in tune easily and reliably… just as I thought it, I felt angry at myself. ‘What kind of a softie are you, you idiot!’ I thought. 

Ugh, this E is still too low! I tightened the peg violently; the string snapped with a bang, and I felt a sharp pain on my cheek. “Ah!” I uttered a curse on Yasaka, pressing my hand over my cheek that had been sliced by the thin steel. Of course I had a spare string, but thanks to Yasaka I had lost my glasses and it took three times as long to install the new one. Damn it, that son of a bitch, I’ll never forgive him! 

And — Yasaka never came, nor will he ever again. Apparently he told Ishida-san in the middle of the day that he was leaving the group for “personal reasons”… I was disappointed, but also relieved. It’s a pity I won’t be able to use the many abuses I spent the whole day developing, but glad I won’t have to see his stupid face again.

“The double bass section will be vacant,” I said to Nico-chan bitterly, who looked disappointed. “But he didn’t seem to like music, you know. It can’t be helped. And he had a lot of personality problems. I’m not sorry to see him go.”

Ishida-san seemed surprised, “Did something happen between you and Yasaka-kun?”

I’d say there was! But I lied, “It’s nothing. And, I don’t think he would have lasted long with us, anyway.”

“Well if you say so, Morimura-chan…” Ishida-san went back to his cafe, saying that tonight he only had the part-time girls working. I erased Yasaka and the incident from my memory. People were now coming in for rehearsal every five minutes, and I spent my part of the time, as usual, taking tuners to the newly arrived people and leading sectional practice.  Eventually, at exactly 7:55pm, Tounoin arrived. It was his custom to pretend to be invisible in those five minutes and then appear at the podium at exactly 8pm, so when I spotted him I simply bowed and left him alone — but he motioned for me to come out the door. Actually, I should have gone to him myself and thanked him for last night, but it was too much… it’s hard to think of saying ‘Thank You’ to him. 

When I was struggling with what to say to him, he pointed to my face and asked, “What happened there?”

I touched the scratch on my cheek. “It’s from a string that broke. Is it bleeding?” It’s such an insignificant injury I had forgotten about it.

“Yes, a little,” said Tounoin. He put his hand on my chin and licked over the scratch. 

“Whoa!” I exclaimed and jumped back.

“It’s the best thing to do.”

“Keep it to yourself!” I don’t know how I could let this guy get to me after last night, and now this. Here I was thinking he was a better man than Yasaka, but…ha! They’re two of a kind. 

When I was about to go back into the rehearsal room, Tounoin held out a brown paper bag. “This is what I called you over for.” 

I accepted it because it wasn’t wrapped like a gift. Inside were my sneakers and my glasses… but the glasses were in irreparable disrepair. “I…”

“Did you get the withdrawal notice?”

“Yes, Ishida-san told me just now.” I said, and thought… so this is why Tounoin disappeared last night… “Um… thank you.”

“I threw away your old clothes.”

“Yeah… thank you.” I knew I had to say this. I remembered and added, “I’ll bring the ones I borrowed next time. I took them to the cleaners.” 

“There’s no rush. And also,” he said, examining the bag he had given me and taking out what I had left inside. It was a 10,000 yen note. 

“What’s this for?”

“I collected it from him, for your glasses.”

“I don’t want it!” I yelled, louder than I intended, “That guy’s money is a joke!”

Tounoin waved his hand in a gesture of command, “Shh, your voice is too loud. I washed it, dried it and heat disinfected it with an iron, because of where it came from.” Tounoin, who was whispering over my head, was laughing only with his eyes. Cold, dangerous… like a lion. Yes, he’s also this kind of person — I felt a chill run through my heart. If Yasaka is still in one piece, it’s only because Tounoin held himself back. No, maybe he broke one or both of his arms…

“I’ll take it. For the cost of the glasses.” I received the money — I was too scared to turn down a guy with such a face.

“That’s good.” He looked down at me with a smile, and his eyes had a different glint than before. I felt like I was loved by a 190cm tall Doberman. Oh man… I’m screwed. From now on I’ll have to be careful to not offend him when he asks to go for coffee… but wait a minute. If I’m that weak, this guy who’s always pushing me will at some point push me too far. But if I make him angry, there’s no way I can beat him with brute force, so in the end…

“Morimura-san?” He said in a whisper, and my eyes snapped up. He held my face between his hands and caressed under and behind my ears as he brought my face closer to his. His breath touched my lips. At that moment I pushed him back as hard as I could, quickly clenching my hand into a fist and holding it ready. Even if this guy is a demon and I’m ruled by fear, I’m not going to be meek! I stared at him like he was a poisonous insect.

Tounoin smiled wryly, “What a shame, you’ve completely recovered.” He looked at his watch and said, “Otto,” and sprang through the door.

“8 o’clock!” I hurriedly followed him.

—

That night was the end of our time with the Magic Flute overture. Unlike Eine Kleine, we didn’t get a round of applause from Tounoin, but everyone was satisfied with the work we did — and in fact, this seemed to increase their trust in him. I was told that he is a conductor who never uses flattery, but he gave me a look that seemed to say, “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” I thought this was still flattery, but I was still happy. 

The next piece we were going to play was Sibelius’ Finlandia. We had played this piece about four years ago, but I chose it because I thought it would be fun for the newcomers who had struggled with the Magic Flute. There are a lot of members in the ensemble, but we would still miss the double bass… and Ichiyama-san gave me some good information. As I walked around handing out the parts that I had prepared for the next rehearsal, I asked Ichiyama-san, Utsumi-san, and Goju-san about another piece to prepare for the farewell party. All three were okay with it. 

Saturday came when Yoshihara-san was leaving the group. While I was still arranging the chairs, Yoshihara-san —- who was usually late because of his work — came quickly to help me set up. We finished tuning the strings as usual and then began our own personal practice. We said our goodbyes at the farewell party, and practiced in the rehearsal room; not because it was Saturday, but because that was the last day I could practice with Yoshihara-san. Unusually, everybody was there already by 7:10pm. Today would be the first day of practice on Finlandia. The middle part and the allegro section at the end of the piece would be a little difficult, but the rest of the piece had almost no detailed notes to work on.

When we started practicing the parts, the newer members were stumbling around trying to catch the notes, and the more experienced players who had done this piece before seemed to have completely forgotten what to do. But I didn’t despair for the situation, because everyone here was serious about learning the music. As I walked through advising other members as usual, I felt myself unusually nostalgic about this orchestra.  Most of the members of Fujimi only practice here, from the very beginning, reading music in this big conference room with no acoustical quality. They enjoy it genuinely, making the music their own note by note and weaving it into an ensemble with clumsiness, but sincerity. We don’t judge people based on skill; mothers who are busy raising their children, store managers, salesmen trying to improve their performance, butchers… they all rush to rehearsal with their instruments in hand just for the love of music. The only thing they get out of it is the joy of harmonizing, but they work through their busy schedules to come here without thinking of the effort they are making.

Then I thought about Yasaka, who was an outsider in Fujimi. Yes… definitely an outsider. He would attend dutifully, but he always looked like a jerk and never took practice seriously. Tounoin had been right when he said, “He doesn’t like music…” and I knew it too. His motive for joining Fujimi was probably childish ambition, with no consideration for his own talent. He bought an instrument as a tool and came to Fujimi as a set-up, imagining himself under the stage lights and getting drunk on this glamorous version of himself. He thought he could play music he didn’t like and get better at it, as long as he paid the membership fee… I knew this, but I tried to take advantage of it and failed, because I wanted to retain the precious bass section. I was an idiot…

I sighed and looked over at the double bass. Yoshihara-san was having a joint practice with the cellist Igarashi-kun, playing off of one part. Ishida-san had not yet arrived; Nico-chan was working behind the scenes as the caretaker, but he used to play double bass. His reaction wasn’t so bad when I had gone to his shop to persuade him to return to that role, but at 8pm when Tounoin began rehearsal, Ishida-san still hadn’t appeared. I wonder if it was all for naught…. to tell the truth, Nico-chan’s record of devotion to Fujimi was so strong that it almost destroyed his cafe, and his wife had taken away his instrument. But that was almost ten years ago, and Ichiyama-san — the person who had told me about that situation — said he thought that his statute of limitations had passed. But thinking of women like that, women can be relentless when it comes to defending their livelihoods… so I guess the double bass section is finally finished.

That night, Tounoin started conducting Finlandia. Everyone had already accepted his order to ‘keep their eyes on me,’ but we still got several calls of “STOP!” And “Again, from the top.” These two lines were about the only things Tounoin ever said during rehearsal. The rest was silence, and in my experience everything was communicated through his eyes. He could tell me he noticed a mistake just by looking at me. 

His way of rehearsing was unique; the conductors that I’ve worked with until now, without exception, divided the music into several chunks and let us practice each part. When we were almost done, then we would go through the entire piece. But in the case of Tounoin he didn’t divide the music up. We played from the beginning to the end, whether we could do it or not, and repeated it as long as we had time to do so. Everyone learns the flow of each part and patiently repeats the whole piece until it can be played without looking at the score. Then we would practice the difficult parts that were not in sync, and before we knew it, we had completely mastered the piece. It was only at this point that Tounoin would give us some verbal instruction, but even then it wasn’t much; “more forte” or “play this as smoothly as you can.” He preferred to speak with his body to convey tempo, tune, accent, crescendo, decrescendo, and so on. Tounoin gave us all the subtle and detailed instructions for expression using gestures, like an actor. 

Even on the stage today, when everyone except a couple of other veterans were staring at the score, our eyes were fixed on the conductor. Our minds may waver over the staves, but Tounoin doesn’t cut any corners. From the day we start a piece to the day we finish it, and from the beginning to the end of every rehearsal, he does the same conducting motions without omitting a single movement. He was as precise as a machine, and as serious as if it were a real performance. So at first, the members were split half and half between the ones who were looking at the score or looking at him. They had to take in his conducting piece by piece, but at the same time as the score was being memorized, his conducting was also imprinted in their minds. Thanks to his consistent and precise repetition of his instructions, we naturally memorized the nuances and expressions he wanted along with the sounds. By the time we reached the final stage of a piece, everyone had completely internalized the music and his instructions. When he adds words, it’s like adding spices at the end of a dish. 

In other words, Tounoin is an expressive person worthy of the title of genius: a patient and generous leader, sober and sincere who will not allow himself to be compromised in any way. He’s also a person who truly loves and cares for music and people who love music. Kei Tounoin, a young genius conductor. The encounter with him was a fortunate one for both Fujimi and me. As proof of this, Finlandia, which had been a mere tangle of sounds when Tounoin first started waving his baton, was already beginning to become music. Most of the phrases were unsteady, but every once in a while, a surprising harmony is born. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a homosexual who’s in love with me, I’d be really happy every day…

Finlandia is about ten minutes long, and we repeated it five times in a row before Tounoin closed the score. Then he looked round at us and said, “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” It wasn’t my idea, but I felt the same way. Nicely done! Tounoin held up his baton, gave us a prep, and then gave the downbeat after that exquisite breathless moment; the music began…. it was the first piece that Tounoin had conducted when he came to Fujimi, and it was the piece that won us his plain applause. This was a ceremonial gift from Tounoin to Yoshihara-san, and he couldn’t have chosen a better song to end his last Fujimi rehearsal with. We gave the best performance that we could. When the last chord disappeared into the graceful end, we breathed in bliss and deeply enjoyed the pleasant afterglow. Tounoin tucked his baton into his back pocket and said his standard, “We’re done,” with the usual tone, and stepped down from the podium. He had a genius sense of humor as well as a way of bringing a romantic back to reality without losing his composure. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” I stood up from my chair, waiting for everybody to finish packing up and say their goodbyes. “The farewell party will be held at Grandeur. It’s on the second floor of the Tsubaki Bookstore in Fujimi Ginza.”

“Yes! Yes!” Replied one of the energetic women. I hurriedly put my violin in its case and followed Ichiyama-san, who was already leaving the room.

“I’m not cleaning up tonight,” I said to Tounoin, who was at the door.

“After you,” he said and I ran out into the hallway.

Utsumi-san and Igarashi-san came out after me and we hurried through the gloomy, sullen night to Grandeur. We had to get everything ready before the guest of honor arrived. 

At the party, Yoshihara-san was a tearful man. When he was greeted by the ‘farewell song,’ Radetzky March, that we timed to coincide with his entrance, the quartet knew exactly how to arrange the ceremony. The smile on his face was already tearful. The last time we had a farewell party it was for Kojima-san, back when Igarashi-san had just joined us, so we could only make an unusual quartet of me and Ichiyama-san on violin, Utsumi-san on viola and Yoshihara-san on double bass. It must have been quite challenging to be a salesman and a member of an orchestra at the same time, but Yoshihara-san filled his opening remarks with happy memories of his time at Fujimi, and concluded with tears: “I’m sorry that I have to leave. I will definitely come back again.” Everyone wanted to offer Yoshihara-san a drink with words of encouragement, and he laughed and cried about his memories with each of us while he poured beer after beer. When our quartet played Radetzky March again everyone clapped their hands and said ‘Take care.” By the time we sent him off, he was already spinning drunk, and every time he shook hands with somebody he would rub his manly face with his sleeve, and his eyes and nose would turn red.

“I fell in love with you, Maestro! It’s true, I was happy to play under your direction.” Yoshihara-san shook Tounoin’s hand seriously and hugged him tightly like a lover. “I’m sure I’ll come back someday, and when I do, I’d love to perform under you again. I don’t think a promising person like you can stay in an orchestra like this forever, but I do want to play with you again. Even if you step down from your permanent position, please don’t cut ties with Fujimi,” he said with the bare earnestness of a drunken man. Yoshihara-san wooed half the people there and bowed repeatedly. As I played Radetzky endlessly, I strained my ears to listen for Tounoin’s response.

“I’m a selfish man,” I heard the baritone say softly, “I’ve decided that I will only play with orchestras that I like.” I laughed to myself, what a nice joke. “There are not many pieces that can be performed without a double bass,” Tounoin said with a gentle smile, “So don’t forget your promise.”

“Well… if you want me to be a substitute until Yoshihara-san comes back, I’m sure my wife will agree…” Ishida-san mumbled, as he was standing next to Tounoin. I blushed when he noticed that I was listening.

And so the farewell party ended. Some were going to an after party, and some were going home. I was in the minority that went home; I didn’t feel like dragging my violin around and getting drunk, but also I hadn’t gotten my new glasses yet and my vision wasn’t so good. As I was slowly walking off, Igarashi-san caught up to me.

“Eh? Aren’t you going to the after-party?”

“I have a lesson tomorrow morning, so I have to be in Sagamihara by nine o’clock.”

“Who’s the teacher?”

“Kazuhiro Miyajima-san.”

“Oh, he’s expensive isn’t he?”

Somebody came to stand next to me, and when I turned around I saw that it was Tounoin; apparently he wasn’t going to the after-party either. Igarashi bowed to him and said, “Hello!” Then turned back to our conversation.

“It’s 15,000 yen for one lesson, but I got a discount from a friend. It’s still not cheap, but since it’s Miyajimi-sensei it can’t be helped.” Being the pupil of a top musician has advantages not only in terms of learning music, and students who want to become professionals usually work with a primary private teacher. Some people have several teachers, but I couldn’t take those kinds of private lessons when I was a poor student. I had already given up on this kind of thing a long time ago, but I still felt a bit frustrated with my playing. Of course, it’s not as if you can just get a position by asking a teacher. 

“Tounoin-san, do you have a teacher?” Igarashi-kun asked. I was actually curious as well; I didn’t know many details about his background aside from how he graduated from the University of the Arts and went to Europe. 

“If I had to pick a teacher, I’d say Karajan. I’ve studied the work of Böhm, Toscanini, Bernstein, Iwaki and Kiyoshi Ko,” he mentioned the top names in Western and Eastern classical music very casually. I thought of the large number of records and CDs in his room. So are those his teachers? Yeah, that sounds like him. We walked in the direction of Fujimi Ginza with our backs to the station, where the street came to a T-junction, meeting with a national highway. “I’m over that way,” Tounoin said, gesturing with his chin.

“I’m over there,” Igarashi-kun replied, pointing with his left hand. 

“Yeah, we’re together,” I added.

Igarashi bowed to Tounoin, “Thank you.”

“Ah, Morimura-san,” Tounoin called, “Are you coming over to practice tomorrow?” Before I could answer, Igarashi-kun looked at me with a quizzical expression. 

“Oh, well…” Why did he have to bring it up here? If Igarashi-kun was suspicious… I started to panic.

“Morimura-san, are you training for something?” Igarashi-kun asked me.

“What?” I stared back.

“No, I was just wondering if you had something you were working on outside of Fujimi…”

“Not exactly,” Tounoin interrupted, “He was having a hard time finding a decent place to practice, so I decided to offer my place.”

“Your house, Tounoin-san?” He blinked his eyes. “That sounds great! I’d like to be included!”

“I can’t do that,” Tounoin said, cutting him off, “It’s a 1K apartment, I can’t just open it up to everyone.”

“Aw, no way!” Muttered Igarashi, and Tono answered back casually.

“Besides, students should practice at school.”

I finally realized Tounoin’s intention in bringing this up: he was trying to make it public so that I would have to go to his apartment to practice! I glared at him, trying not to let Igarashi notice. I respect you as a conductor, but I have no intention of going along with your gay ways! 

Tounoin brushed his hair back with a sober look on his face. “You said you would start in the afternoon. So, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

Damn it. I heard Igarashi-kun mumbling in the background as I stared at the back of Tounoin’s retreating head, thinking that I had to do something about this…

“Tounoin-san, you really fell in love with Morimura-san, didn’t you…” 

I whipped my head around to look at him, “I-it’s not that he fell in love with me…” I turned pale and tried to smile at him.

“It’s okay, though,” Igarashi said, shaking his cello case and starting to walk away. I kept up with him shoulder to shoulder. We walked down the street, the air warm and stagnant, “It’s only natural that Tounoin-san wants to take good care of you, Morimura-san. I was surprised that such a weak orchestra would have a concertmaster like you. Why didn’t you ever decide to make your living as a violinist, anyway?”

This was a question I was often asked towards the end of my school days. ‘Where are you auditioning?’ ‘Teaching… but aren’t you going to be a professional?’ It was a regular conversation I had back then, and I always answered, ‘I don’t have that kind of talent.’ The only difference between then and now is that I think about it in the past tense, but the answer is the same. And Igarashi-kun had the same reaction as my schoolmates at the time.

“What about me? Is the road to becoming a professional so tough that even Morimura-san can’t make it? What should I do? Is it such a hopeless situation…?” 

Deja vu. In a gloomy mood, I said the same thing I said back then, “Come on, just because I gave up… you still have a long way to go.”

“Well that’s what I thought… but I’m not feeling so confident anymore. I didn’t know it was so difficult that Morimura-san would give up…”

Why does he overestimate me like that? (And not just him…), “It was only because I wasn’t talented enough.” I turned and walked past the entrance to an alleyway two doors down, past Mozart café. At the end of this alley was Yasaka’s apartment… ‘Damn it! Don’t remember, forget it. Forget it.’ I thought to myself, as Igarashi continued to talk.

“That’s not true. It can’t be. It’s not possible that someone who can play as well as you has no talent. Someone who can make Tounoin-san say, ‘Yuuki Morimura is my precious violinist’ can’t be so bad.”

“What?” How did Igarashi know about that?

“Actually… I saw it.” 

Damn it! There’s no way… 

“Morimura-san, you had some trouble with Yasaka, didn’t you?” I looked aside at Igarashi, who met my eyes and continued, “I happened to see Tounoin-san going into Yasaka’s apartment. I had followed him, since I saw him going down the street with a terrifying expression on his face. It was already after 1am when he kicked open Yasaka’s door and said, ‘Yuuki Morimura is my precious violinist! I won’t let somebody like you mess around with him!’ I thought I was going to see blood, but before I knew it the lights went on all over the neighborhood.”

“How did you know it was Yasaka’s apartment…?” I muttered, and Igarashi laughed and waved his hand.

“I’m sorry to laugh. At first I didn’t know who he was dealing with, and then I saw the guy run outside and realized, ‘oh, it’s Yasaka.’’ He laughed again and covered his mouth with his hand, “No, really I shouldn’t laugh, but Tounoin is a musician through and through.”

I looked at Igarashi-kun, “What do you mean?”. 

“He avoided using his hands, since he uses them to conduct. So instead of punching him in the face, he kicked him in the face, and then knocked him down with just his legs.”

“…he’s a very dexterous man.”

“Seriously, I bet he’d be good at soccer.” I let out a burst of laughter; I could imagine the scene, Tounoin playing soccer… with his precious hands folded in front of him, and with the same sullen, expressionless face kicking and stepping on Yasaka angrily.

“Anyway, what happened to cause that scene?” I choked when he asked me the obvious question.

“Oh, well… so actually I kind of got carried away pushing Yasaka to take over for Yoshihara-san. So it was after that…well, you know.”

Igarashi’ s eyes widened, “Huh. Did you give him a lesson, Morimura-san? He… I wouldn’t have expected him to do that! You’re a good teacher.” 

I laughed and Igarashi looked around quickly before adding, “I’ll tell you something: Yasaka’s sound was terrible. Not just that, he was too lazy to practice. I’m glad he quit. Of course he’s not still taking lessons, right?”

“Yeah…” Yasaka’s resignation was his own fault, but this was the first I had heard about how he had been beaten up, and I felt a bit torn. It wasn’t something I felt guilty about, but I was sure that I was the cause of it. But Igarashi-kun…

“I bet he wasn’t grateful for the private lesson, was he? What’s more, he must have done something to make that quiet Tounoin so furious. I don’t feel sorry for him.” 

He said what I felt out loud. I was thinking… yes, there was no room for sympathy, but that made me reflect on my weakness — which is why incidents like this happen to me.

“So speaking of which, what exactly did he do?” Igarashi asked me cheerfully. 

“No, that… is over with now.” I almost let something slip when I caught Igarashi looking expectantly at me, and he seemed to be smirking. Maybe not, but…. oh man. I forget that there are a lot of curious gossips in music organizations. Geez…

—-

And it was another sunny Sunday. I felt uncertain before I left my apartment, and then kept losing my nerve and thinking in front of the door. No matter how I look at it, I think it would be safer if I just skipped practicing here without saying anything… oh, I’m definitely crazy. I faced the door with the afternoon sun glancing off of it, and inserted the key. It’s going to be inconvenient to do this without my glasses. I opened the heavy soundproof door, and Tounoin was just as absorbed in the flood of sound as before. This time he must have noticed me enter, because he looked at me and went to get his headphones. 

(It’s okay.) I gestured. (I just came to cancel the lessons.) 

Tounoin stood up and went to the component system to stop the sound. “Is something wrong?” He asked in his Fischer-Dieskau baritone, because it was plain to see that I was not coming to practice with empty hands. “Do you want to come in?”

I couldn’t believe I was going to be alone with Tounoin in his apartment again. But we really need to talk so… I made up my mind. I took off my sneakers and sat down on the floor facing him. “I know you said that I could use this place for practicing…”

As I started to talk, Tounoin let out a sigh. “You dislike it that much?” 

“Yeah, that’s about it.” I went to stand up and say I was done talking, but Tounoin was staring at me. I’m not sure if I was disappointed or relieved. I slumped back down on the floor with a pouting look on my face. 

Tounoin lowered his eyes. Slowly he said, “You can’t trust me, can you?”

“How can I?!” I cried out in spite of myself. I was so upset because he said that in such a hurt tone of voice — when I’m the victim!

“All right,” said Tounoin. “Then what can I do to make you believe me?” You son of a bitch, you’ve opened up. Good.

“First, you have to stop following me around.”

“What do you mean, stop asking you out?” He said quietly.

“That’s right! No more coffee, no more dinner, nothing!”

“…ah.” Tounoin nodded sadly, but clearly! 

I was proud of this unexpected and easy victory, and only had one more thing to say: “And… and I’m going to ask you to stop thinking about dating me or anything weird like that.” But as soon as I said it, I realized I might have stepped over the line. Tounoin’s aspect was frigid, and his face rose to meet mine. His long, sharp eyes under his tight eyebrows stared at me. (Probably, I didn’t have my glasses, so it’s kind of hard to tell from this distance.)

“Does that mean… that you won’t allow me to even think about you?” I felt my heart go pale quickly. The quiet tone of his voice and the cold atmosphere of the room… it belonged to the other Tounoin, the one who had frightened me before… and I had tipped the scales. But what happens if I shrink back now? It took all the bravado I could muster to keep my chest up, but I just couldn’t run away. I knew it was coming, but this was Tennouzan. I made eye contact with Tounoin.

“Oh yes, I don’t want a man to be in love with me.” As soon as I said that, I felt a bolt of blue lightning run through Tounoin’s eyes. The next thing I knew, I was struggling against the tall man who had fallen on top of me, but there was no way I could win against him in a physical fight. “Let go of me! Get off of me!” Tounoin laughed coldly and pressed me to the floor with his large physique. 

“If I’m not even allowed to think about you, I have no choice but to get desperate. If the gentlemanly way is useless, then let’s follow the law of the beast. I’ll make you surrender — if you don’t want to, then resist me by force.”

“No! That’s not fair! You know you’ll win by strength! You coward!” I yelled.

Tounoin laughed, “It’s okay to be cowardly, since no matter how sincere I am, you’ll never believe me anyway.”

“What kind of logic is that? This was your plan all along! Pervert! Rapist!”

“If that’s what you believe, then it doesn’t matter what my intentions were,” he said, pressing his lips against my neck. I felt myself release a mad gasp. I felt his lips and tongue, and shook my head to stop him. Tounoin sucked on the area below my ear tightly, and a heat like electric shock ran from there through my whole body. I felt something flare up inside of me.

“I love you, I love you!” His voice was a fiery whisper, his lips imprinted on my skin, tormenting me. His hot body pushed into mine and painfully drove my lust. But I couldn’t move; the limbs that were supposed to resist were numb and weak, and not just that… that should have never happened. If I had any pride as a man, I would never let this happen. Never! I can’t allow this!

“N—NOOOO!” The scream was so loud that Tounoin suddenly stopped moving. But that’s because he knows my condition! However, since I was crucified underneath his body I had no way to do anything. 

“No…no…no…no…”  I struggled to keep my gaze away from Tounoin’s eyes, as I stared into the grain of the floor that was gradually blurring. Please don’t notice…I…I…I… couldn’t help but close my eyes. Cold droplets of sweat trickled down my temples. This is not me! It’s not! It’s not true that there’s a part of me that can be pleasured by a man. But the truth came out in my body; my penis was pulsing with lust, betraying my mind, and my ass was gasping from the memory of the time it swallowed that cock… I was devastated by the fact that I had to face it. I tried to forget… even though I denied what happened…! I tried my best to deny that I had ever been raped, but yet drowned in pleasure — something I should never have felt! The words flowed through my head like a shadow through the darkness of my mind, closed in cold despair. I can’t refuse Tounoin anymore… I have no right to call him a pervert… I’m a dirty, lustful maniac… a slutty homosexual…

Suddenly a faint breath blew in my ear. A part inside me squirmed and squealed in my stiffened body that felt ready for the mausoleum. ‘I’m sure this is what you wanted,’ I thought, as I was stroked and desired to be stroked again, my true nature exposed. And while my mind was filled with self-loathing and despair, my body was throbbing and hot, secretly trembling with pleasure at the prospect of being dominated by such wild power. I bit my tongue… damn it… damn it…

“I’m truly sorry…” the baritone said. “I’m sorry… I won’t do this again… I swear.” He released the hands that were holding my arm against the floor and hugging me tightly.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” I was listening to Tounoin’s words, but it took a second for the meaning to reach my heart, and I was overwhelmed with relief and shame.

“I-it can’t be… it can’t be… it..!” I sobbed.

“I know…I know…” He held me in his arms, silently pressing his head against mine and whispering sighs. We were overlapping, feeling each other’s erections, but it was something I could never admit! And he knew it. How did I feel about myself like this? Tounoin was on my side, he was an ally. But I couldn’t forgive myself for lusting after his touch, and having him as an ally.

I killed my own desires. “I-I’m sorry…” he murmured. He’s spoiling me. Come to think of it, the night of the Yasaka incident was the same; I’m spoiling for his favor. Tounoin gave a hint of a smile and stroked my hair in silence, as if he were the silent conductor, full of understanding, insight and patience. It was as if to say, it’s okay, let’s just forget about it…

The words ‘It’s your fault’ came into my mind as I was walking to my apartment, feeling strangely calm after being sent out under the twilight sky. Yes, I should have told him that it was his fault that I’ve become like this… then I could have continued to hate the ‘pervert’ Tounoin. But then I realized, if he wasn’t a homosexual I would have been able to have a respectful relationship with this man, Kei Tounoin. I think I’ve made peace with him… maybe. There’s no one more attractive than him when it comes to being friends, and that’s what we were. But if he had kept holding me like that, I would have had no choice but to give in.

I took in the colors of the solemn sunset in the sultry heat and inhaled the humid air into my chest. I don’t have to hate Tounoin anymore… I can accept that the rape was an accident. It really did happen because he thought I was gay, and now he’s convinced himself that I’m not. I’ll just… forget about the part of me that responded to his touch. I read somewhere that a man’s sex drive is as involuntary as his appetite. There have been times when I was frightened by the swelling between my legs… it was probably just a nervous reaction.

—

After a moment’s hesitation, I inserted the key into the keyhole; I had decided to trust Tounoin. I opened the heavy soundproof door. Tonight it was Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, played by the Berlin Philharmonic, it sounded like. I shook off the last vestiges of caution and took off my shoes. The cool, cool room was like a paradise. As usual, Tounoin was absorbed in the pages of the score, but as he turned the first few pages he noticed me. He gave a nonchalant nod when I held up my violin case, and then moved to the console to switch to headphones. The flood of sound disappeared, and I chose a spot facing the window behind Tounoin, who had returned to his studies. I set up my music stand and set the part to Finlandia on it, then opened my case and took out my violin. I took my time with the tuning and ran my eyes over the music. The new glasses were working well, bringing out each note on the lines clearly. I settled into position; tonight’s practice selection was a melodic theme excerpted in a choral piece. Jean Sibelius wants to express the clear coolness of the wind across the fjord, the depth of the azure sea and sky, and the blessed stretching of the short, glorious summer. And I wanted to express the strong romanticism of Odin’s people, who are proud of their harsh climate carved from the permafrost. What I want is a sound that is resolute, clear and rich, so… let’s go. 

Outside the window, it was a summer night studded with lights. The back of Tounoin’s head was reflected in the glass as he moved his hand to flip through the score. But I don’t have to keep a watchful eye on him anymore; he swore to me. I tamed my breath and placed my bow on the string. The shuffling sound of Tounoin’s headphones leaking sound was erased from my consciousness. I dived into my own world, where only the sound of the violin existed.