End of the Innocence: Strange Illusions

  "Are you testing me?" He asked.  He still had the amused look on his face.

   "Not at all," I said.  "I'd like to see if there were some visible scars left from your childhood...incident."

   He remained unmoved for a few moments, then pushed himself away from the table and stood up.

   "You are questioning how true my story was about my grandmother," he said as he walked toward me.  His hands moved behind his back, untying the knot to the thin obi.

   "I am not questioning anything you have said.  I wanted to know--"  I didn't finish the sentence.  I had wanted to know if I would see faded scars of his childhood abuse.  I wanted to be certain what he had told me were not fabrics of his delusions he had weaved out of desperation.  A voice in a corner of my mind cursed at Utsuki for placing the doubt there. 

   He unlaced the obi from his waist and draped it over the back of the chair.  He stood only a couple of feet away from me, his kimono loosened and opened.  I was mystified by the carefree look over his face; by how easily he had bared himself to someone he did not really know.  It was not the reaction I had expected.  At least, I expected him to be nervous and ambivalent at my request.

   "Not even a protest?" I said.

   "I could," he replied.  "But it might not sound convincing."

   "Were you always comfortable with nudity in company of strangers?" I asked as I gestured for him to turn around.  He did so.

   "Of course not," he said.  "You're a doctor.  It's hardly unusual for you to see someone naked."

   "I hope you weren't asked by many psychiatrists to disrobe," I said.

   "I forgot you were the other kind of doctor," he said after a moment's silence.

   I held back a laugh that nearly worked its way out of my throat.  I coughed and slipped the kimono  off his shoulders, and down his back.  I asked him to hold the robe at his waist.

   There were fresh scars, still dark crimson in late stages of healing, placed randomly from his shoulder blade down to the tail of his spine.  The scars looked shocking against his pale skin.  The brand that had been seared into him had healed--the scars were half translucent and half filled with broken blood vessels.  I ran my finger over it, just to feel the raised pattern inside the cross.  Aoshi shuddered when I did so.  I apologized and asked him if he still felt pains from it.

    "Not really.  The first month was the worst.  "

    "How do you feel about this being here?"

    "Honestly? It didn't bother me.  I thought the mark was...." he paused to think of a word.  "Pretty."

    "Pretty?"

    He turned his head to look over his shoulder at me.  

    "Not a good word that came to mind to describe how I felt about it."

    "Not the word I expected to hear," I said.  I traced one scar which had spanned from his left shoulder and cut across diagonally across his back, ending at the bottom of his right ribcage.  The cut seemed to be made with a thin razor.  The line was concise and careful, and from its length and path--the cut was made over few minutes instead of a quick sweep.

    "What did you expect me to say?"

    "I suppose I had expected you to react in the text book manner," I said.  "Most people in your situation would feel a permanent mark made to personalize you as a possession or conquest, is a form of constant violation."

    "I see," he said.

    Then I saw them.  Faded marks that would have disappeared if his skin was a shade darker.  The marks that were scattered and random, much like the chaos that must have gone through the old woman's mind when she brought herself to inflict this kind of pain to a child.  I didn't want to know if the rest of his body carried these similar scars.  I brushed my fingers against his back, but I was not aware of how softly I was touching him until I felt him tense.

    "I'm sorry," I said and drew my hands back. 

    "No need to apologize," he said quietly.  I couldn't tell if he was upset.

    "The way I touched you," I said as I lifted his kimono over his shoulders and covered him again.  "Were you thinking of Yutaka?"

    He straightened his kimono and turned around to look at me.

    "Something like that," he replied as he reached for the obi. 

    "Does he know about what had happened to you?"

    "Not really," he said and wound the obi around his waist a couple of times before tying it into a knot at the small of his back.  "Utsuki-san told Yutaka-san that I had to "disappear" for  a few months because I was a witness to an important case for the government.  He wrote a letter and gave it to Utsuki-san to give to me.  I didn't read it until yesterday."

    He didn't finish his sentence.  Instead, he returned to his seat and sat there, staring at his coffee cup.

    "He apologized to me." He finally said.

    "For what?"

    "For changing our relationship," he said in a soft voice that hid his true emotions.  "For allowing himself to be seduced.  What he said in the letter, was the real reason why I had agreed to help Utsuki-san on this case.  I don't think I can ever go back to that company and face Yutaka-san again."

    I smiled.  He frowned.

    "May I give you my honest opinion as an individual to another? All professionalism aside?" I asked.

    He shrugged.

    "We all would like to think ourselves more of a masochist than a sadist," I said.  "I have never met someone who's so much of both until I met you.   Better put, a sadist who has the perfect facade of a masochist."

    "Meaning?"

    "I think you understand what I mean completely," I said.  "I also find it fascinating that you have more attachment to Yutaka than to rediscover the identities of your parents or your brother ."

    "I don't think knowing the names of my parents of my brother would change the facts that they are dead or would it make much of a difference in the situation I am in now.   If anything, placing a name to them would only fill me with...."

    He paused and looked as if he was looking for an appropriate word to complete the sentence.  I let him flounder in his own thoughts for awhile before I said a word for him.

    "Regret?"

    He nodded.  "I would rather not know anything about them."

    "Because you don't think you could handle the truth?"

    "No," he said.  "I'm afraid I might be right."

    We talked through the afternoon, and into dinner.  Then after dinner.  Most of the conversation revolved around his life in Tokyo, although he had carefully skirted around the topic on Yutaka.  Then I asked him about the bandage around his throat.  He stared at me, as if I had asked him the most absurd question in the world.

    "Has the wound healed?" I asked.  

    He touched his throat and caressed the delicate material with his fingertips.

    "Long ago," he said finally.

    "Then why keep it on?" I gestured at the bandage.

    "I didn't want to see it."

    We were still in the dining room.  The dinner dishes had been cleared away and replaced with cups of green tea set on wooden coasters.  I picked up my cup and sipped the tea while I waited for him to continue.  He didn't say anything for a long time.

    "Whenever I see it, I can almost feel the kind of anger and hatred that man must have had for me when he did that to me."

     "Describe to me, exactly what did you see in the scars around your neck."

    He didn't answer.  His eyes held a faraway look that told me he wished he was somewhere else, and not having this intrusive conversation.

    "Do you see him?" I asked.  

    He nodded faintly.  "He didn't have a face....but I knew what kind of expressions he had when he tightened the rope around my neck.  He was angry and he was also sad."

    "What about the scene that upset you the most?"

    He thought for a moment, then said.  "I didn't want him to be sad.  It was the only thing that didn't make sense to me, of everything that happened."

    "It's a rather interesting human flaw," I said.  "Even in midst of evil, the simplest gesture of kindness can easily weave a perception into an illusion."

    "What do you mean?"

    "It's an innate nature of all of us to find good in everyone, even in the people who seemed to be capable of nothing but evil.  It's a comfort zone we pad for ourselves when we fall victims to someone's personal agendas.  The same concept behind why many people believed there's a powerful entity watching over them although bad things still happened to them.  You might have taken your assailant's hesitancy as an act of kindness."

    "Was it?"

    "No.  You just have a strong urge to forgive him."

    "Christian teachings?" He suggested with an amused tone.

    "Possibly. Or it could just be a self-defense mechanism.  Sometimes it is easier to forgive and forget, then to subjugate yourself to the crime whenever you remember the incident," I said.   "You didn't sense the same thing when you see other scars he had left on your body?"

    "No," he said.  "It's kind of hard to explain.  The other scars he left on me were...deliberate.  It was almost as if during those moments, he and I had an understanding.  I felt that I knew why he was doing those things to me, as he did them -- and I suppose I sympathized with him on that level as well.  It was different when he decided it's time to kill me."

    I put my cup down and frowned.

    "You described your assault and captivity as something cruel, but in the manner that suggested something you might have consented, and probably enjoyed in some levels.  Did you?"

    He shrugged.

    "I don't know if I did.  I can only tell you what I know.  I had never practiced sadomasochism and my pain thresh hold was not impressive, if that's what you are getting at."

    "I wasn't," I said.  "Sadomasochism in the sexual term's a mind game, but it is a game and it usually do not come to a fatal end.  What had happened to you might have been a game to him, but...was it to you?"

    "And you are suggesting that I was turned on by the reality of the pains and death?"

    "I only can suggest from what I can deduce by your words," I said.  

    He laughed softly.  "Some people do consider death the ultimate form of orgasm."

    I cleared my throat.  We had wondered off the beaten path and we were slowly ending up where we should not be. 

     "Someday, the bandages will have to come off.  It would be best to deal with the feelings while they are still...fresh..." I said.

    He said nothing as his smile faded.  He rose and gingerly straightened his kimono as he stood.

    "Maybe another day," he said.  "I am rather tired, doctor.  I would like to retire."

    I looked at my watch and from my expression, he knew something was wrong.

    "What is it?"

    "The last train from Nikko to Tokyo left over an hour ago," I explained.  "I completely forgot about the time."

    He looked a little sheepish as he apologized.

    "I should not have kept you here with my inane stories...."

    I shook my head.

    "It's nothing," I said.  "I'll take one of the rooms here for the night."

    He still looked guilt-ridden when I urged him off to bed.  I went downstairs to speak to the detective that was on duty.  He was a tired looking middle-aged man with unkempt gray hair.  A thick belly that sagged over his belt line completed his semi-retired look.  He was watching television in the recliner when I told him I would be staying the night.  He grunted something that might have been a "yes" and pointed at the door leading to the backrooms with his thumb.  His eyes never left the television screen.

    I went to the backroom and met with the nurse on duty.  She was elderly, probably close to retirement age.  As she scrambled through the linen closet to find me a robe and a fresh towel, she talked about how the prettier, younger ladies only wanted day shift so they can see more of Aoshi.  At night, evidently the only time the nurse checked on Aoshi would be when he paged her through a buzzer installed next to his bed.  Aoshi had strictly asked that no one goes upstairs after 8 p.m..

    After she handed me a pile of linen and an endearing smile, she shuffled back to her quarters where she was also watching television.  I passed by the cop and said good night to him.  He grunted something back, his eyes still remained on the screen.  He was watching a game show.

    I padded up to one of several empty rooms and prepared the bedding before I took my bath.  While I soaked in the tub, I spoke to Anderson on my cell phone.  He would be in Tokyo in two days.    

    I wasn't certain if I had fallen asleep or my mind had merely wondered off into nothingness.   The sensation of being watched jolted me into awareness.  Aoshi, in a thigh-high white bathrobe, knelt by the entrance of the bath.  His hands were properly composed on his lap.  He looked as if he had been staring at me for awhile.

    "Aoshi?"    

    A glint of life came into his eyes, but he didn't answer.

    "What is it?"

    He stood up and walked toward me.  He ran his fingers through my damp hair.

    "You look like someone I knew, from long time ago," he said.  His voice was different -- it was silkier and softer than usual.

    "Who might that be?"

    He leaned in closer, and instead of an answer, he kissed me lightly on my mouth.  

    "Aoshi, I don't think this is appropriate -- " I whispered.  He smiled wickedly and pressed his mouth against mine.  For no particular reason, I gave myself into him.  I pushed all thoughts from my mind, except to acknowledge that I had wanted this, and cupped his face as I kissed him.  I vaguely  noticed he had untied and stripped away his robe.  He discarded it on the wet bathroom floor and stepped into the tub with me.

    "It is quite appropriate, doctor," he said.  "You've been quite inquisitive about me.  And now, I'd like to know a little about you."

    With the tips of my finger, I traced a line along his bandaged throat.  He didn't seemed to care as I undid the clasps that held his bandages together.  A small mysterious smile remained on his face as I unwound the gauze, and revealed  the wounds he had hidden beneath.  The bruises were no longer there.  The reddened marks which had been made from ropes and knives had faded into clear pale lines that were quite visible.  They were scattered and chaotic.  I suddenly understood the full meaning of what Aoshi had tried to explain to me earlier.  

    "Why are you really here?" I said, and touched the scars gently.  "You tell me you are not inclined to be given into intimacy, especially to strangers.  Then here you are, sitting naked in front of me."

    He laughed.  

    "Is it a bad thing to want to be with you?"

    "It is, when I am your psychiatrist.  There's this nagging question of ethics."

    He wrapped his arms around me and drew me in for a kiss.  

    "If it helps, maybe I could ask you to be removed from my case."

    "Do you want me to be removed?" I said and kissed his scarred throat.  

    "No," he whispered.  "Not yet."

    "What would you do if I refused you?" I said.

   He ran his fingers along my arms and the enigmatic smile grew.

    "You are not the only man in this house," he said.  A child-like mischievousness crept over his eyes.  I was intrigued more than ever by Shinomori.  Someone else had emerged from the shell of the man I had known for the past few days.  This one didn't want to care about consequences.  I wondered briefly if this was the Aoshi that seduced Yutaka, and it was another Aoshi who had lived with the regret.  

    "You would --" I didn't finish my sentence.  I paused to think of the appropriate thing to say, but it did not come to mind then.

    "He's a little old, but I am sure he's still got the equipment to do the job," he said softly and licked his upper lip suggestively.  "Of course, with some assistance on my part..."

    "Why hadn't you let on earlier you wanted this?"

    He pressed his index finger over my lips and shook his head.

    "No more questions, Doctor.  You're spoiling the moment," he said and leaned in for another kiss.  I bit into his mouth and kissed him hard.  At the same time, I held him by his arms and pressed him back until he was half draped over backwards on the rim of the tub.  I felt his body tense and he had resisted at first, trying to writhe out of my grip.  I had no doubt he was in pain and he could scarcely breathe.  Then nearly as quickly as the fight in him rose, it disappeared.  He had not reacted the way I had anticipated he would.  If anything, he had become even more aroused by the rough handling.  I released the grip on him and eased the kiss into the teasing gentleness.

    "I want you to fuck me right now," he said into my mouth as I pulled away from him.  

    I did not like hearing him say those words.  It wasn't... him.  The thoughts fled my mind momentarily when his hands found my erection.

    "I want this inside me -- " he said silkily, and annunciated his need with a firm squeeze that nearly sent me over the edge.  "And I want you to fuck me until every drop of your come is inside me."

    I wanted to thrust into him then, but the tub made our movements restrictive and awkward.  He was moving to straddle over my lap but instead, I picked him up in my arms and stepped out of the bath.  Dripping wet and a little cold, I carried him into my room and put him down on the futon mattress I had laid out.  He spread his thighs open and urged me to kneel between them.  He let out a moan and said my name.  My first name, which I thought he didn't know.

    "Do you remember?" I said as I spread his thighs apart further.  I lifted his hips off the mattress and pulled him closer to me, until the small of his back was resting against my knee.  "Do you remember him doing this to you?"

    I pushed two fingers into him.   They went in easily.

    "I remember them..." he said and moaned softly as I worked my fingers in and out of his tight hole.

    "Them?"

    "Many...many...men..." he whispered in between breaths.  "Many...men...strangers..."

    I pressed in one more finger, stretching him a little wider.

    "You told me you couldn't get intimate with anyone after Yutaka," I said.  

    "Casual fucking has nothing to do with intimacy," he replied and slid his hand down to touch mine.  He slipped one of his finger inside to join mine, although he was using a harsher, deeper pace.

    "Put all of your fingers in," he said.  "Put everything in until I feel your hand inside."

    "No," I said and drew my fingers back.

    He laughed softly.  "I can take it."

    I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, buying a little time to compose myself.  Scattered thoughts about what I had said earlier that day went through my mind.  My speculations that Aoshi probably had enjoyed, to a certain point, the pain the Hunter had dealt him.  The crime committed against him had become nothing more than a forced masochistic binge he had gone on for a month.  I began to question if he had really lost the memories.  Perhaps he had formed a personal relationship with the Hunter whom he might have thought of as a lover, and all of this had been a lie to protect the Hunter's identity.

    "No," I said again and pushed my cock into him.  His chest arched forward, and he said my name again.  

    He ran his fingers over his chest.  His fingers circled the nipples, teasing them into hard little nabs.  I bent down and took them into my mouth, then trailed the licks with the tip of my tongue upwards--up his neck, his chin and into his mouth.

    "Fuck me harder."

    Instead, I stopped moving.  The entire length of my cock was buried deep inside him.

    "I want you to answer me one question and I want you to tell me the truth.  I promise I won't be angry."

    He blinked, completely mystified by my tone.  He nodded.

    "Were what you had been telling me lies?"

    He shook his head.  

    "I wouldn't lie to you," he said.  "I can't.  Even if I wanted to."

    I frowned.  "What do you mean by that?"

    "I don't know."  There weren't any humor or sarcasm in his voice.  He was sincere.

    "Am I your first casual fling since you've been here?"

    His smile returned.  He hooked his legs around my waist and pulled me closer for a kiss.

    "You said one question, doctor," he said and bit at my lower lip playfully.  "We can talk in the morning."

    "Aoshi -- " 

    He sealed his mouth over mine, and interrupted me.  I pinned him down by the shoulders and as we kissed, I recovered my pace again.  This time, I did as he asked and fucked him the way he wanted fucked.  With a touch of violence.