End of the Innocence: Prison Sex

   Ryohei Shinomori had the classic, dignified look someone would expect from his social status; squared jaw, impersonal eyes and even the early tints of gray in the thick dark hair.  He wore a plain brown kimono and smelled of expensive tobacco.  Aristocratic, from his manicured fingertips down to his stockinged feet.  He was the current head of the Shinomori estate and had held the position for the last two years since the eldest son had passed away in a boating accident.

    He had initially refused to see me and sent a maid to dismiss me.  The son of the old man, Goro, spoke to Ryohei on my behalf.  From the way Ryohei peered out of his study and looked at me from a slightly opened shoji, Goro must have asked him to just look at me.  

    And he did.  Ryohei grimaced when he saw me.  He slid open the shoji completely and stepped out.  I presented him my identification and explained Aoshi was my patient.  He looked at my identification with little interest then looked at me.  

    "I have already spoken to the Tokyo police on this matter," he said.  "You couldn't share notes?"

    "There are many questions that the police failed to ask," I said.  "Their notes were useless to me."

    He said nothing for awhile.  The only hint of his contemplation was his right hand clenching into a fist, then unfurling it.  Again and again.   

    "Why is it important for you to help him?" 

    It was an absurd question, but I knew he meant something else.

    "It's my job," I said.  "Although I understand you had disowned him, he is still your nephew."

    "It doesn't matter who he is to me," he said.  "He shouldn't even carry our family name at all."

    "What has he done to deserve this kind of hatred?"

    He opened his mouth to answer, but instead he called out to Goro to bring tea out to the garden.  He gestured for me to follow him and I did.  He lead me into an open-air stone garden set in center of  mansion.  

    "I don't hate him," he began as he took a seat on a carved stone bench.  "But his very existence had torn apart this family, and I could not forgive him for it."

    "How so?" I asked and sat down on the stone bench across from him.  Between us was a small table carved from a piece of gray granite that probably had rooted itself there long before the house was built.  The seats were also carved from the granite, but from its slightly different hue, it was from a different piece of stone.    

    "Has he told you about his adoption into this family?" 

    "He has vague memories about it," I said.  "He has lost most of his memories about his childhood."

    "He told you that...?" He said it in a mildly amused tone.

    "He has no reason to lie to me about it."

    A corner of his mouth turned up and he looked as if he was about to laugh.  He didn't.  Goro came bearing a platter with a small iron tea kettle and two cups.  We did not speak while he served us.

    "I wonder if the cops had sent you here as a new way of interrogating their subjects," Ryohei said when Goro left.  "If Aoshi had not lost all of his childhood memories, you must have confused him."  

    "Meaning?"

    "You look exactly like him," he said and took a sip from his cup.  "My brother.  The one that caused all of this."

    "His name was Aoshi," I said.  

    "Mother lost a bit of her sanity when he died, and gave his name to his son."

    "Aoshi was renamed when he was adopted?"

    He shrugged.  "I didn't like the idea, but it made mother feel better."

    "What about Aoshi's brother?"

    Ryohei said nothing.  The fact that he did not immediately deny there was another child confirmed to me there was.

    "Aoshi told me his brother was beaten to death...." I refrained from adding "by your mother".  Ryohei appeared to be the type that would take great offense to the open secrets of his past, even by if he knew they were true.

    "Aoshi..." Ryohei began.  "Arashi...was a mistake.  Mother never wanted to accept Aoshi's mistakes into this family.  The boy paid a dear price for being born to an indiscreet father."

    "Boys," I corrected him.  "Arashi had a brother named Yuki."

    Ryohei appeared to be startled when I said the name he probably did not expect me to know.  

    "And the boys' mother was a foreigner, wasn't she?"

    He said nothing.  The thinnest crack in his hardened face began to show.  

    "What Arashi was told about his eyes being randomly inherited was a lie to keep him and the world from knowing about the family's dirty secrets, correct?"

    Ryohei ran his fingers through his hair and laughed.

    "You talk like him too," he said.  "Mother had always regretted over sending Aoshi to study in Europe.  He came back with an pregnant English woman and a ridiculous idea of marrying her."

    "Did they get married?"

    "God no," Ryohei said.  "And if mother had her way, the babies would have been thrown into a well to drown if she had her hands on the newborns."

    "And you agree with her sentiments."

    He shook his head.

    "I don't like mother's way of doing things or the decisions that she made, but I understood why she made them.  In some degree, her madness runs through all of us and it's something only this bloodline understood.  Even Arashi himself knew what it was, but the difference was, Arashi knew to run away."

    "Would you help me find Arashi's childhood?"

    "I think it is best if he does not remember.  What he might learn can only destroy him."

    "What might he learn?"

    He looked down at the tea cup and let out a long sigh.

    "When Yuki died, Arashi went into hysterics for weeks.  The boy hid in corners or under the bed when someone came into the room.  It was like having a frightened animal in the house.  He only screamed or cried, and barely spoke a full sentence during that time.  My brother and I even planned on giving Arashi poison one night, just to let him have peace.  It was miserable seeing him suffer like that.  It was worse than seeing him being beaten.  At least then, we all knew the beating comes to an end sometime."

    I was speechless.  Actually, I wanted to hit him.  He spoke in the tone as if he was talking about an unruly pet he had when he was young.  A sense of disgust came over me and all I wanted to do was get out of there.  I hated that place and I hated everything Shinomori stood for.  I felt if I stayed there for too long, the filth would somehow crawl beneath my skin as well.

    "If you "cure" him, he will always be this frightened little creature who probably couldn't even take his own life to end the misery.  If he did lose his memories of this place and his past, consider it the God's divine intervention."

    "You speak of God as if he had intended for the abuse to happen....then for His own reasons, perhaps to protect your family name, took the ugly truth along with his memory."

    "If you say so," he said and shrugged.  "There's nothing you can say that will upset me.  I am only tolerating your presence because I was fond of Aoshi, in spite of what he did -- before and after his death.  I simply ceased to care about his children.  No hate.  No love."

    "You have plenty of hatred," I said.  "So much so that even you don't recognize it."

    He frowned.  The thin crack deepened and split quickly along the surface of his perfect mask.  Seeing it appear made me inexplicably happy.  

    "Your mother would have given anything to bring back the prodigal son after he killed himself.  Even replacing him with the child she had hated.  You and your bother never left Aoshi's shadow during his living years, and even after his death, you and your bother never left Aoshi's son's shadow.  Your mother lavished more attention and what she think is love, onto Aoshi's son, am I right?"

    "No," he said quietly.  He was speaking more to himself than to me.  "You don't know anything about any of us."

    "I don't need to know anything about any of you to know what you have done in the name of God." 

     He was quiet.  His eyes stared fixedly at the small cup of tea on the table.   

    "I have nothing more to say," Ryohei finally said and stood up.  He straightened his kimono and waited for me to say something.

    "You must have been elated to learn he had been victimized."

    "I would have been happier to learn whoever this was that did this to him, had finished his job."

    He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his kimono and walked away.      

    I sat in the garden, suddenly too tired to get up.  Goro had come to escort me to the front door but he waited patiently for me.  He waited for awhile.

    "I called a cab for you already, sir," he said when I finally willed myself to stand up.

    I nodded.

    "You look very upset," he said.  "Perhaps -- "

    I shook my head.  "I'll be fine."

   We walked to the front door in silence.  A couple of steps before reaching the bolted gates, I gave him the business card for the hotel where I was staying at.  He took it and studied it carefully.

    "I would like to speak to your father."

    "I don't think it is possible.  We are forbidden to speak to outsiders about anything or anyone on the estate."

    "I want to help Arashi."

    His eyes lowered.  "I want to, but...."

    "He had already lost his brother in this evil place," I said.  "I don't want him to lose half of his past here as well."

    He stared fixedly at his shoes and didn't move or speak.  I turned and let myself out.

    "Kind of put the incest angle in the affair, 'eh?" Anderson said.

    "For one of us anyway," I said.  

    I phoned Anderson to check to see if Utsuki had given him any problems as soon as I checked into Fujita Hotel.  The Kamo river, its water level unusually low for the time of the year, ran noisily below my window.  A couple  hundred feet away, just below the bridge, two small boys were fishing  with crudely made rods.  I was mildly surprised that Utsuki has not intervened in any manner.  He had not even sent additional manning to watch over the foreigner I had introduced into the case.  I told him about the conversation I had with Ryohei.

    "When he propositioned you, you think he knew?"

    "I was a sexual convenience.  Just like the cop who spent the afternoon screwing him a couple of days ago.  He hasn't shown his sexual inclinations, has he?"

    "Far from it.  He spent most of his day watching this dog next door.  Ate and drank very little, and spoke even less.  This morning, I thought I would try something.  I borrowed the dog from the neighbor so we can walk it around the area.  I let him have the leash, and the cop and I walked a couple of steps behind him so he can really just focus on the dog.  For all of five minutes, Aoshi seemed a little happier.  Then he just bent down and unclipped the leash and let the dog run off.  It took half an hour for the cop to chase the dog down and bring it back."

    "Identity transference?"

    "Yeah.  He looked sadder than he already was when the dog was placed back on the leash," Anderson paused.  Bits of static filled the silence on our phones.  "I am afraid for him, Gai."

    "So am I," I said.  "There is nothing here for him to come back to.  Ryohei's hatred for Aoshi's stunning, to put it mildly.  The servants on the estate seemed to have been given a blanket an order not to speak to outsiders about the family.  Until the Hunter's caught and locked away, he couldn't return to his life in Tokyo either."

    "Perhaps you can convince the police to allow him to go back to his job at least.  It will give him some semblance of normalcy."

    "It would be a hard argument and I don't have enough leverage to pull it off.  Psychology as a whole is hardly accepted as it is.  It's equivalent to what fortune tellers are to medical science in America...and add on permanent social stigma.  People only tolerated my presence because my license listed me as a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist."

    "I did tell you to stay in America."

    "I think I am less adaptable to the way you American do things than I am to being taken lightly professionally at home."

    "I think Utsuki might be right.  You are a little crazy for a shrink."

    "Speaking of the bastard...I owe him a phone call."

    "Give him hell," Anderson said.  "I'll call you if there's any changes." 

    I called Utsuki at his office.  It was already past 7 PM but somehow I knew he would still be in his office.  I was right.  When he answered the phone, he said my name slowly and with a hint of mockery.  He had expected my call.

    "You knew.  You knew from the start about Aoshi's father.  You only put me on the case because I looked like him."

    "I would have given my right arm to see the expression on Ryohei's face when he saw you."

    "You bastard....do you know what you have done?"

    "Save the temper tantrum, doctor.  I might not know the psychology in the way you do but I know how to manipulate answers out of my subjects better than you can."

    "You must be proud to know your job experience made you into a complete asshole."

    "In fact, I am.  You are no angel either, doctor.  The very reason that made you go to Kyoto proves that you are no different than me.  You are not looking out for his interest.  You are only there for your own."

    "What the hell do you know?" I said and hung up on him.  

    I was in a foul mood and I didn't want to sit in the hotel room to stew in it.  I put on my jacket and took a cab to Gion where I spent most of the night drinking.  It had been years since I drank and it had been my first time being drunk.  The bartender fished out the hotel card from my pocket and put me in the cab.  I didn't remember anything after I was gently shoved into the waiting car.

    The dull ringing of the phone lolled me into consciousness and I was not pleased.  My head was spinning, and it picked up speed as I moved to sit up.  I cursed as I fumbled for the phone.  My voice had been reduced to dry rasps.  My throat hurt when I forced out a sound to make a word.

    "Pardon my intrusion, Dr. Kanoe..." 

    The voice was familiar, but in the haze in my head would not allow me to draw out the name of the speaker. 

    "Who...?"

    "This is Goro."

    The name meant little to me.  

    "I work on the Shinomori estate?" He added.

    The name Shinomori jolted me into a sudden awareness.

    "Yes, yes..." I said absently and reached for my watch on the night stand.  The dials pointed to 12:34 PM.

    "Is this a bad time, sir?"

    "No, not at all.  Where are you?"

    "In the hotel lobby.  I can come back later if --"

    "No, no.  I had a...bad night.  Give me 15 minutes to clean up. Can you wait for me in the hotel coffee shop?"

    "Of course, sir."

    I took a quick shower, just long enough to wash the smell of alcohol off me, then went downstairs.  I was a little surprised to see Goro had come alone.   

    "Thank you for coming," I said as I took a seat at the table facing him.  My throat was still raspy.  It hurt when I spoke.

    "Are you feeling well, sir?" Goro asked. 

    "Nothing a cup of coffee won't fix," I said and called a waiter over to bring a pot of coffee with two cups.

    "My father was the one who insisted that I come here and speak with you," Goro said.  "When you showed up with his face, he believed it was an omen.  Of course, after he came to the terms with the fact that you were actually not him."

    "Hardly an omen," I said.  "I was put on this case quite deliberately."

    A young waiter came to our table bearing a large tray he balanced in one hand.  With the other, he carefully unloaded the coffee decanter, two porcelain cups with matching porcelain spoons, a silver sugar bowl and creamer, and a basket of muffins.  He arranged them precisely on the table and lined them along an invisible line.  It was kind of fascinating to see someone immersed in something as trivial as serving coffee.  After everything was nicely arranged on the table, he nodded to himself and walked off.

    "What can you tell me about Aoshi?" I asked.

    "The one you looked like?"

    "Yes.  Did you know him when he passed away?"

    I drank a little coffee and it immediately made me feel better.  

    "I was eight-years old when the young master died.  I knew and understood little about what went on.  My father told me everything...although I do not trust his memory.  He had never been the same since Aoshi-sama died.  Often he would tell me that Aoshi-sama had not died and he was only gone to Europe to live with his wife and children."

    "Denial's the most difficult phase to get past when it comes to someone who had become like his own child.  Suicide's more difficult to handle, especially when it's seen from the parent role.  The sense of loss is compounded by failure."   

    He was quiet for awhile.  He spooned some sugar into his cup and took a sip without stirring it.   

    "So this is what it's like to talk to a psychiatrist," he said.  "How did you know about the suicide?  The newspapers and the police report all said he died in a car accident."

    "Ao -- Arashi told me."

    "I didn't think he would remember..."

    "Remember what?"

    "Aoshi-sama, at that time, was separated from his family.  His mother had cut Aoshi-sama's funding in order to pressure him to return home.  For some time, Aoshi-sama did well for himself.  He spoke three languages fluently and he had a Master's degree in business.  He worked as a translator for UN at one time.  Then mother Shinomori start to assert pressures on the businesses that hired Aoshi-sama.  Aoshi-sama was forced to skip job to job because of this.  Soon, Aoshi-sama found himself unable to find or keep any job at all.  Being poor didn't bother Aoshi-sama.  He only wanted to be with his family.  My father used to bring food and clothing and blankets to Aoshi-sama during the harder times.  He adored the children."

    "Children..."

    "Yuki and Arashi."

    Goro nodded.  "When mother Shinomori failed to pressure Aoshi-sama to abandon his wife and children to come home, she began to ply police pressure.  Aoshi-sama had resorted to moving every few weeks to hide from her.  Eventually, mother Shinomori found them.  Things happened rather quickly from that point on.  Aoshi-sama's wife was deported from Japan and their marriage dissolved officially.  Then Aoshi-sama learned his sons would be separated and sent to two orphanages overseas--to places that neither the father or the mother will find them.  Mother Shinomori had assumed that if she took everything away from Aoshi-sama, then Aoshi-sama would have no choice but come back to her."

    Goro paused and stared down at the cup he held in his hands.  For awhile he didn't speak.  I gave him time to collect his thoughts as I quietly sipped my coffee.

    "Father said he had come with money and new identification he had bought in the black market for Aoshi-sama and his children.  He had wanted to put them on a plane to Okinawa and stay with a distant cousin of ours down there.  A modest farm in a small remote village where Aoshi-sama was a promised a job in a school.  Father said the first thing he heard when he reached the front door was the children crying.  When he forced open the locked door, he found the two boys were curled up next to their father, crying and lying in his blood in the kitchen."

    "He cut his own throat."

    Goro nodded.  "He nearly severed his own neck.  Father said the police told him Aoshi-sama had died for at least eight hours when he was found."

    "I am not sure who's sicker -- the mother who's set on purifying her bloodline or the father who would kill himself in front of his children then allow them to lie in his blood for hours...would have been days, if your father had not come."

    He shrugged.  "Aoshi-sama was about to lose everything.  I don't think he was thinking much of anything else at that point."

    "And the children were kept because Aoshi had killed himself."

    Goro frowned.  "I don't understand."

    "In Catholicism, it is a sin to commit suicide.  The persons who took their own life will never go to Heaven.  Actually, their souls merely exist in the state of nothingness called limbo. Mother Shinomori thought to atone for Aoshi's last and the ultimate sin by taking the children into her home and tried to purify them.  The children were dirty, in her mind.  They were conceived before marriage and they were created with half of the bloodline that wasn't even Japanese.  By purifying the children first then raising them properly, perhaps she thought it would be enough for God to forgive Aoshi or herself, and let Aoshi's soul pass to Heaven."

    Goro spooned more sugar into his coffee and poured cream into the cup until it turned tan.  

    "I wish she had let the children go with their mother."

    "She couldn't let someone who was part of the mistake to raise the mistake.  Especially when the two mistakes in question had half of the Shinomori bloodline," I said.  "Arashi recalled to me the beatings he and his brother endured."

    "They were.  Quite terribly.  I don't know how other servants felt about it but father cried with them.  Many times he had pleaded for mother Shinomori to spare the children, and just as many times, he was simply dismissed.  Father had even gone to the police.  No one wanted to help.  Then Yuki died.  Mother Shinomori sent father to the atrium where Yuki had died that night.  She told him that since he was the only one that seemed to be concerned about the children, she would give him the privilege of burying him."

    "Buried him where?"

    "He said behind the church on the estate."

    "He was the only one who tended to the burial?"

    "I was there for awhile.  I held the lantern for him while father dug the grave.  Yuki's body was wrapped in a bundle.  It was very small.  After father finished preparing the grave, he sent me away."

    "Yuki was buried the same night he was killed?"

    He nodded.  

    "Then what else happened?"

    "I am not sure.  A flurry of things happened that no one understood.  Mother Shinomori manipulated papers to erase Yuki's name from the Kyoto register, and adopted Arashi.  She gave him Aoshi-sama's name when he was adopted.  Then it was as if nothing terrible had happened.  Mother Shinomori gave Aoshi everything and anything he wanted.  She treated him better than her own sons.  The tension between Aoshi and Ryohei-sama and Taka-sama were terrible.  Things only got worse when mother Shinomori had told the family attorney that she wished to change her will and make Aoshi the successor after she died.  Ryohei-sama and Taka-sama were furious when they learned this from the attorney.  It might have been a bribe or a promise, but if mother Shinomori had written a new will, it was never placed in effect."

    "It wouldn't have matter anyway," I said.  "Arashi had washed his hands of Shinomori.  He would not have wanted the estate, even if it had been given to him on a silver platter."

    "Why did she do that?"

    "Do what? Give Arashi everything?"

    He nodded and took a long drink from his cup that drained it.  

    "Over compensation on guilt," I said.  "Arashi had always known it for what it is.  That's why he ran away when he was confident he could survive on his own and refused his portion of the will.  If he took it, the stain he felt he had gotten from being raised by someone he had secretly hated would have been permanent."

    "I've never talked to a psychiatrist before," he said after awhile. 

    "Not many people had," I said and poured more coffee for him then refilled my own cup.  "Can I ask you for one final thing? A personal favor for me?"

    "That is?"

    "I would like for you to recover the remains of Yuki's body for me."