Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Falling in Love Again ❯ You Don't Have To Say You Love Me ( Chapter 8 )

Falling in Love Again

A Rurouni Kenshin Pop-Art Remake

By Oryo

Special thanks to fujifunmum and Pirandella

Thanks for comments and comfort: Mara, Firuze, Kamorgana, Kensuyoko, Wombat

The black haori and the gray hakama belong to Kamorgana.

Warnings: This chapter contains on the one side a naughty songfic parody, and on the other side allusions to extreme racial violence.

Chapter 8: You Don't Have To Say You Love Me

Tokyo, years 36/37 of Meiji (1904/5)

It's been almost one year since he has visited us the last time. We have changed roles. He's the wanderer now. But his wandering is not a search for forgiveness, or a new meaning of life. His wandering is like the flight of birds who come for the summer and leave for the Winter. Who live their lives for the sake of moving around. I think it's fitting for him. The boundless world as a home instead of these small islands.
Last year, we said good bye as if there wouldn't be another meeting. We've done this for eight years, but every time he came back he found me still alive, and he joked that I will surely survive him.
But this time I fear the good bye was the last one.

New York, May 21, 1965

One more time, Henry Shatner was staying in his office far longer than all his men, and the ashtray was overstuffed with cigarettes. They hadn't been any help at all against his bad mood.

The answer to his report, send to Washington one week before, had arrived today, and it incited frustration, but also extreme curiosity. The answer to his request had been "no", but that was not the point. The point was that they ordered, really ordered him to keep his hands off Farrel, informing him that this man had received a full and complete pardon. This was a solution to the riddle of why Farrel hadn't had any problems at the airport. But the number of unanswered questions was piling up. Puffing, Shatner tossed the letter back on his desk and lit another cigarette. That was the end of his little private investigation. In the next days and weeks, he had to concentrate on more urgent problems. The last thing he could do was keep his own man on Farrel's tail until he found out the contact.

Someone was knocking at his door. It was the man he had sent to infiltrate the Narcotics Department. He had received his call one hour before, and the news he brought was really alarming.

"Sit down, and tell me what happened!"

The man obeyed and took some papers from a small suitcase.

"It really looks as if the whole Kane group was eliminated this evening." He started playing with the bundle of papers. "They haven't identified all the corpses, but one of the exploded cars belonged to Kane himself. And he and two other men died inside. Then we have the car of the scientist suspected of making the stuff for him. And the third car was registered to the name Arthur Sherman." Sherman was a quite common name. Could it be coincidence? Shatner thought of Jasper Cagney's first report. Besides, he didn't even have to ask for more information, his subordinate continued on his own. "At Narcotics, they have a very interesting folder about him. It seems that six or seven years ago, he constantly stepped on their toes, asking them to start an investigation about drug dealing in Harlem, because some black kids got involved in this. Dragging policemen to the tribunal by accusing them of deliberate and unmeasured violence. Then he was involved himself in a shooting with the police and got severely hurt. But he survived and continued to annoy the Narcotics Department and the whole New York Police Department. Then two years ago, these reports stopped abruptly."

"Let me keep these reports! What else?"

"The police have no leads yet, of course. Obviously, they plan to raid all places connected to Kane."

"But organized crime doesn't exist." Shatner stated dryly, and the man looked dumbfounded at him. What a waste of irony! He permitted the man to leave, keeping the papers.

For the moment, he couldn't do anything about it. However, he knew it was no coincidence, because last week-end an Italian gang got eliminated with similar precision. Only they got shot at their secret meeting places, instead of exploding in their cars. But the handwriting and the style were the same. "The spider" and his "family".

But tonight Japser Cagney would meet the inner circle.

***

Fuck the rain! When I leave the missy's house to head to the Laundromat, it splashes in my face and soaks my clothes immediately. For a few seconds, I consider returning to the annoying shrimp and waiting for Shintaro in the dry security of their apartment. Hell, no! The brat is too busy practicing the dirty tricks he learned last week on me, like twisting other people's hands.

Fuck the rain! Shrugging I decide to go, and after a few mistakes I can see the Laundromat. Why the fuck did the brat give such vague directions anyway? However, I have found it, and passing by the glass front of it, I can see Shintaro - sitting cross legged on one of the machines and reading a newspaper. What a funny sight! Although he looks worried. But then something provokes him to raise his head. Our eyes meet through the window, and he smiles. Wow. It goes directly through every part of my body. Accelerating my pulse.

We have never said a single word about the argument, since I stopped pouting and went to visit him. Not on my own, though. Kay asked me on Tuesday when we met for rehearse, if Shintaro was doing better. It took me a few seconds to understand the meaning of this question: There had been a reason to worry. But I didn't know anything about his condition. I hadn't seen him since that night. I had been waiting for his excuse, or just for something to happen. Kay rarely asks stupid questions, and he had no problems with me leaving without waiting for Arthur. For years, I hadn't felt this bad, this - anxious. Fucking hell, I have to chase away these thoughts.

When I came to see Shintaro, on Tuesday, he was very upset anyway. The shy one of the old book guy's granddaughters had just told him that the jerks asking for protection money had come on Monday and had made a mess in the store.

Then we just slipped back in the constant flirt mode. Hidden when others were around, not hidden at all when we were alone for a few minutes. As if nothing had happened. On Wednesday, I could even convince him to accompany me, Maggie, Kay and the missy to the movie theatre, to see A Fistful Dollars. No, I don't complain. No discussion, no risky questions, no embarrassing answers, no reason to feel guilty. It's so much better as it is. And I'm very sure that tonight is going to be fun.

"What the fuck are you doing, sitting on this washing machine?" I query when I enter. No one else is in the Laundromat anyway, and he has just folded his newspaper. "Does it turn you on?" The machine is a heavy thing, its vibrations must be very noticeable.

Grinning, he tilts his head, as if he is reflecting on my question with all its consequences "Well, this is just one aspect of it. The principal reason is that - " At this second, the neighboring machine stops working, and Shintaro leaves his place with an elegant jump. He gives the machine two precise kicks against the door, and it resumes its working. "The principal reason is that this is a cursed Laundromat." He explains seriously when he returns to his former place. Not crossing his legs this time.

"You are joking."

He shrugs, smirking: "That's what some women explained to me last week. It's cursed, because every machine has its special requirements. This one," he taps almost gently against his seat. "needs someone to sit on it. Others need kicks or more exotic treatment." With that smile of his, it sounds like an intimate massage.

"You are really teasing me." I say, giving him a light knock against the forehead, knowing how much he hates this.

"No, I'm not. That's obviously the reason why Karen and Yacko wanted to give me this chore." No, hell, he sounds too much like he's teasing me. Finally he shrugs again. "Shouldn't you be in the "Velvet" tonight?"

Indeed, if this was a normal Friday, we would be preparing now to go on stage, to be welcomed by crazy, screeching girls, and other crazy, but not screeching folk. Hell, I miss it. Though, not too much, 'cause, suddenly, I remember last week. Fuck it, better not to think about it.

"Fuck it! No, Kay and me, we told them that they had to look for someone else. It was too late to find a replacement for Arthur, and he didn't show up the whole week."

And he was lucky not to be there, maybe I would have beaten the shit out of him if I had seen him. He should - the fuck - have told me what happened on that night. The only thing what Shintaro said apropos the head-bandage he wore until Wednesday, was that he had had a little problem with Kane's men. Though, he didn't need to say it, but Arthur is one of them. He must have known about this. And, yes, he should - the fuck - have told me what happened.

Suddenly, I realize that the amusement has disappeared from Shintaro's face. "What's with Arthur?" He asks with a strained voice. His jaw is tight.

"No idea, I haven't seen him since he left the piano, last Saturday night."

"Fuck!" I don't believe my ears, hearing him swear like that.

"What?"

Silence. Then he sighs, making a resigned gesture with both of his hands.

"I did something incredibly stupid. It was a mistake, nothing I want to repeat, but the damage is done, and - Just forget it."

My mouth gapes open. He has fu- done Arthur. I know it, and I can't picture it any other way. No idea why! This is the perfect explanation of why Arthur hasn't shown up. He must have been shocked to find out that his bright angel isn't as innocent as he thought. Though, when did they do it? Before or after the fight? A flash of jealousy is speeding through my mind, just for a few seconds. Then it's gone. And I'm so fucking amused, it's incredible. 'Cause, suddenly I feel less guilty. A large grin appearing on my face, I ask: "Did you do it because you were so pissed off with me?"

"No, it had nothing to do with you." He answers, and I'm feeling just a hint of disappointment. Then he adds barely audible. "I don't know what came over me."

My imagination is not so limited. Arthur is hot, not my type and by the way my cousin, but I'm not blind. I know exactly why such things happen. Why it happened with me last Friday: I was still excited because of the performance, I got too drunk, the guy was quite hot and bingo.

I respond: "So, that makes us quits, so to say."

To tell the truth, I felt so shitty the morning after. For whatever reason, hang-over, or the frustration that the first time I had sex with a guy and wanted another. But I hate to feel guilty, and I know I took it out on Shintaro.

"Quits?" His voice sounds more amused than surprised. And he doesn't ask for clarification. "If that is important to you."

"Are you jealous?"

He snorts. "No. Are you?"

"No."

There is a little smile around his lips.

"Why the sudden change?"

He refers to Saturday night. Playing jealous has been the first thing coming to my mind. The first thing to throw in his face, 'cause he is irritating me so much. 'Cause of his eloquent looks, the obvious desire. 'Cause, he doesn't play this game by my rules. 'Cause sometimes he wakes up feelings inside me I want to stay buried. 'Cause these feelings would weaken me, 'cause ... 'Cause, things have gotten complicated too fast, and I felt guilty. And then he had done it again. He hit my weakest point.

While the washing machine is rumbling underneath him, spinning now, Shintaro is looking at me. With this calm expression in his eyes. Warm and friendly, concerned and questioning. Like no other person looks at me.

Fucking hell! I feel like drowning. But, he doesn't need to know it. Grinning even larger, I answer: "I don't know. But isn't this funny that we both ended up with the wrong guy."

He tilts his head again, like a curious little bird.

"How did you know it was the wrong guy?"

"It wasn't you." Oh fuck, I can't believe I said this out loud. "Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Satisfied. Amused. Whatever! You should know it - okay - I've been chasing after you for two weeks. I've never done this before. Okay? Are you happy now?"

He smiles: "Yes, and I'm sorry that I hurt you the other night." I swallow. There it is, the excuse I'd been waiting for. Fucking simple! Fucking generous! Just to make me feel worse. I open my mouth to say something, to protect myself from these feelings. "Come here!"

So much easier than words. Just meshing lips and battling tongues. Two bodies rubbing against each other, hard and hungry. And the washing machine is spinning. Its vibration adds more friction. Its noise covers our heavy breathing. My still rain soaked clothes have soaked his immediately. Details become extremely substantial. And he wraps his arms around my waist and clutches my ass. Shit! Feeling his hands sliding in the back pockets of my pants is maddening. Hell, I want this guy more than anything else. So much, there is more ache than the one between my legs. But this one is already very insisting.

When I'm right about losing any control, he pushes me away with a sigh. Just enough that I come to my senses. Fucking hell. We were close to do it in a fucking Laundromat, with giant windows. Even a park would have been more decent. And now a bunch of women is entering the Laundromat. No way that I can stay here, with these strange women ogling us. I'm too horny, and he is looking too cute with his flushed cheeks. No, I need a drink to calm down, very urgently.

"See you later!" I smack his shoulder lightly, and he doesn't ask for explanations. With an innocent smile, but still blushing, he uses his newspaper to cover the most revealing parts of his soaked clothes.

"See you!"

Of course, it is still raining when I go outside.

*

It's still raining when I leave the bar one hour later. Fuck the rain! Though, my mood grows immediately better when I reach the top floor and enter his apartment, the door being open.

Obviously, he is in the missy's apartment. Looking around a bit, I see he has bought a new record again. Since I have given him the record player, he has bought eight or nine records in just one week. Today it's a "West Side Story"-song collection. Cool, I have seen that movie ten times. Satisfied with his taste, I put the record on the player standing beneath the bookshelf.

... We're gonna rock it tonight,
We're gonna jazz it up and have us a ball!

Swinging with the rhythm, I have a look at his books. Small booklets, some of them written in fucking French: Baudelaire (Kay had one of this guy, too, called "Flowers of Evil", but not in French.), Blake (Ah, yes: Tyger! Tyger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, .... Even I know that.), Rimbaud, Verlaine (more French guys), Whitman (Arthur had one book of this guy, too.) ...

They're gonna get it tonight;
The more they turn it on the harder they'll fall! ...

There's a letter lying on the desk, addressed to the address in Brooklyn. A curious handwriting, as if the person wasn't used to writing very often. From Takani Miya, Nagasaki, Japan. A Japanese woman. Curiously, I have a look inside. Besides the letter, I find three photos: My lovely friend playing something like soccer with two children, him sitting on the porch of a house, talking with a woman. Ah - it's the woman whose photo is already framed on the desk.

Holy shit! The last photo takes my breath away. There he is, surprised by the camera with a closed up expression on his face. The room where he is kneeling is strange, like made of wood, as strange as the long dark object lying before him. Is this a sword? But by far not as strange as his appearance. He is wearing a costume reminding me of some of these Japanese movies I saw: a wide black jacket and a gray trouser-skirt, and his hair is tied up in a high ponytail. And it fits. The strange room, the expression on his face, the costume and the hair - just everything. Fucking hell! I put the photos back in the envelope, the letter is completely unreadable anyway, just meaningless scribble. I toss it back on the desk. Then I take off my jacket and let me collapse in the armchair.

Tonight, tonight,
Won't be just any night,
Tonight there will be no morning star.
Tonight, tonight, I'll see my love ...

No, no. That's not what I need now. Too fucking sentimental. I go back to the record player and put the needle on my favorite song.

"Boy, boy, crazy boy."

I love this song, being cool is just great, and the music is great, too. That's what I need.

"Get cool, boy!"

It's like strutting cats, quite fitting for the chief of a gang.

"Got a rocket in your pocket, ..."

"Did you ever try out for a musical production?"

Keep coolly cool, boy!

Easy to say, but he doesn't see Shintaro leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Wearing only his tight blue-jeans and a dark blue sleeveless undershirt. And his hair is down. For the first time, I see that his left shoulder is bandaged. But now I don't really care.

Don't get hot,

Hot is an understatement. The air is burning. His gaze is open desire. "Your voice is great. You could have a real chance, even without a proper theatric background."

'Cause man, you got

"When I first saw you, I thought that you had a very good sense for space?" Hooking the thumb of his left hand in his belt, he leaves his place. The rhythm of the music, the walk of the cat, shows in his movements. I swallow, the pressure in my pants growing fucking uncomfortable.

Some high times ahead.

"Theatre? It's very boring." I try to say it very coolly, but honestly, I'm a fucking failure. It is as if he is dancing with me, every step is set with precision. And seeing him dance always takes my breath away. Although nobody needs to know it.

Take it slow and Daddy-O,

I have to swallow again when I see him fling to the couch a small metal can he has been hiding in his right hand. "But I know some of the Hollywood actors started their careers in theatres in this city. James Dean, Marlon Brando, Sal Mineo ..."

You can live it up and die in bed!

Fuck Hollywood! I'm unable to stand this teasing any longer. Kissing is perfect to shut him up. His arms and shoulders feel good under my fingers even with the bandage. The muscles of his back are substantial beneath the light cotton. His hair, just delightful. And he sneaks his arms around my waist. Like in the Laundromat. Half it's me pushing him, half it's him drawing me, until we fall on the couch.

Boy, boy, crazy boy!

Now, I want - the fuck - it now. His body is pinned beneath mine, thighs spread, very definitive arousal. His chest heaving as much as mine. The panting breaths, the hungrily trembling lips. Feels like he wants it all the same.

Stay loose, boy!

This time I'm in the right position. Indulgent, I go for one of my favorite places, his neck. Rejecting actually the idea of marking him again, I just kiss the frantically pulsating vein. Licking the skin along the chain and then licking his throat, tasting faint salt, inhaling this special scent of his. The throat is working when I reach down for his crotch. The other time, he liked it a lot to be touched there.

Breeze it, buzz it, easy does it.

He likes it again. Likes it so much, that his hand joins mine to help me with opening the belt and the pants. And there is no underwear beneath. Fighting back a chuckle, I kiss his throat again when my hand slides inside. To grip what is waiting for me.

Turn off the juice, boy!

His whole body goes strained at the squeezing of my hand, and I stroke him harder. Just to see what it does to him. Shut eyes, damp face. His lips part in a voiceless gasp. What better occasion could I find to plunder the slack mouth with my tongue?

Go man, go,

My tongue meets his, the kiss grows into the usual challenge. A strong hand grips my head, clutching strands of hair, massaging my scalp. The other one goes for my shirt, grasping it tightly.

But not like a yo-yo schoolboy.

He is almost done. It's easy to see in every small whimper and every harsh breath accompanying the kiss, in every sudden shudder running through his body, in the trembling of his thighs. I run my free hand from his hair over his back.

Just play it cool, boy,

How did it happen? A strange shift of balance, an unexpected movement. And we are tumbled very clumsily between the couch and the table. He's on top of me, I'm laying on my back. My poor hand has lost the delightful contact.

Real cool!

"Don't worry!" Shintaro is whispering breathlessly in my ear, his tongue tickling the lobe, the teeth tugging it, biting. "Don't worry! We will do it your way. We will only improve on it a bit." Then he starts pushing away my clothes.

*

Tonight ...

We are gasping for air. Like fucking fishes out of water. My left hand remained trapped between our slick bodies. The other hand leaves its place on his back. It wanders down the line of the spine over his buttocks - the pure heaven - to the still trembling thighs. Only when I'm feeling the hard grip around my shoulders loosen a bit, am I able to raise this hand to remove a few strands of red hair from my mouth. Then my arm sinks down again, like bonelessly. My hand resumes its wandering. Oh yes, I don't want to do anything else, just relish in my precious exhaustion. For hours. Just feeling the brush of his lips on my cheek and around my ear.

Tonight ...

However, a little later, Shintaro rises. His move frees my left hand, but I miss the contact, his weigh on my chest. I sense him crawling around a bit, then coming back to the former place and sitting down. When I hear the noise of a cigarette lighter, I open my eyes, finally slipping out of my lethargy. His face half hidden behind the silky strands, Shintaro lights the cigarette, before he brushes the hair away. His arm is resting on the seat of the couch, and he smiles at me.

"I thought you stopped smoking." My voice is coming from nowhere, and it sounds fucking husky.

He shrugs lazily, leaning against the couch. "I changed my mind."

When he has taken three or four draws, I raise a hand, snapping my fingers. He gives it to me without any comment, except raising his eyebrow. Yeah, normally, I don't smoke, but I have never had any problem with a nice, little after-sex-cigarette. Especially now, lacking for words, not even daring to ask my standard question: "Hey, babe, it was great, wasn't it?". Not only because he would certainly kill me for calling him "babe". But he made it so fucking clear that he didn't rely on me to do the whole job. By the way, it was great, no need to verify.

"You've called me Shin-chan." He breaks the silence, taking the cigarette back.

"Maggie calls you Shin-chan." Slowly, I'm gaining more power over my vocal cords. "Kay calls you Shin-chan." It's true, sometimes he does. Must be Maggie's influence.

Again, Shin-chan raises an eyebrow. "But not in that moment."

"Did it bother you?"

"No. It was very special." He leans his head on his arm. Neck and shoulders invite my hand to touch them. The pulse I feel is still fast. He hadn't bothered with stripping his blue undershirt. And he is looking fucking sexy, half-dressed like that. Despite the fading bruise on his stomach. When he has given me the cigarette again, his own hand remains on my chest. It draws very special patterns on my skin. "What do you think about taking a bath?"

A bath? Together? I must be dreaming. "Sounds cool."

His lips twitch amused. He has closed his eyes. In the last two weeks, I have never seen his face this relaxed. But when I tug at the chain to have a look at it, he raises his hand and holds me back. "I will fill the bathtub." He says softly, getting up.

I take it for a good sign that he didn't become gloomy all of sudden. A good result of our little battle. Grinning I sit up, looking at the battlefield of randomly sprawled clothes and the little metal can. Extremely satisfied, I put its cover back on it and stuff the almost finished cigarette in the ashtray on the table. Then I follow him.

*

The warm water is nice. Smelling like wood or herbs, not too sweet. Just like him. Everyone occupies a corner of the tub and for a long while, we do nothing other than scrubbing us with the sponges. From time to time, our legs are rubbing against each other. That's all, but it's alright with me. I'm still a bit weary despite a newly growing stiffness between my legs. Besides I have seen that Shintaro has taken an aspirin. His head must really ache, if he uses analgesics. One more time, I open my mouth to ask him about it. And I close it again. The little chain incident was warning enough.

By the way, he has taken off this chain now.

"And did you picture it right?" His voice sounds drowsy. I ask myself what he is meaning. Observing how he dives completely into the water, then reemerges and brushes sticking hair away from his eyes. The sight of it is enough for me to overcome my weariness and to remember what I have imagined when I saw the bathtub first. "Hey, what -"

Leaning forward on my knees, I have used his surprise to cup his face and to steal a kiss. And he lets me explore his mouth as I wish. Sometimes gently answering with his tongue, but not fighting for control. Though, the feeling of drowning is stronger than before. I manage to break the kiss just before we both grow too excited. I can play these games as good as him.

"Yeah", I answer his question, leaning back again. Relishing the sight of his flushed face and reddened lips. "or no, it's even better. Sometimes reality is even better than imagination."

"Indeed." Shin-chan returns. The sweet, naughty smile around his lips, he closes his eyes. His right foot brushes my left thigh with a teasing caress. But he does nothing else to stir up my arousal. As if I needed to be stirred up very much more.

"Who is Takani?" I query to distract me a little bit.

"Good grief, Sam! Don't put your nose into other people's letters." The expression on his face hadn't changed, despite the sharpness in his voice. Then he opens just one eye to glance at me. "I don't like that."

"Alright, you told me now. But who is she?"

Shintaro sighs, then smiles. "Her name is Miya, and she is my cousin."

Another question s on the tip of my tongue, about his stunning picture. I open my mouth. "Did you know that the movie we saw Wednesday is based on a Japanese movie?" This time I will be subtle.

He laughs quietly, barely visible tension flies away. "I fear I barely remember that movie. The music was good, though. But every time I opened my eyes the guy with the blue eyes was looking grimly at a dusty landscape. Pretty eyes, though. Did something else happen in that movie?"

He made a similar comment during the discussion following the movie, while Maggie was analyzing and, by the way, vivisecting it, as she always does. But this attitude of hers is part of the fun. It just proved that she hadn't missed one second of this movie. Contrary to this ignorant guy.

"I don't believe it. It was a really good movie."

"If you say so."

No way to let him go on with this. Gripping his knees, I dump him for mocking me, then stroke him teasingly between his legs. Satisfied to get an immediate reaction before I let him go. Laughing at his red and stunned face, when he comes back to surface.

"Good grief, Sam!"

"Did I do something wrong, Shin-chan?"

He doesn't answer, not with words. He just takes the shower head hanging beside him, aims at me and squirts a jet of cold water in my face. What a jerk! And he laughs, his own laziness is gone, too. Then he turns off the water, but keeps his weapon in his hand.

"So what is with this Japanese movie? Did you see it, too?"

"Yeah, I saw it, it was called "The Bodyguard". It was very funny because of this guy who puts two rival families against each other, and body parts are flying through the air."

"Sometimes, you have a strange definition of fun."

"I was amazed, that you can hack a man in pieces with those swords."

Suddenly, he takes a deep breath. "Okay, Sam, what do you want to know?"

"Nothing, just that picture - it is amazing. You looked more real in that outfit than the guy in the movie."

"Maybe. I just wore those clothes for the funeral, but the others said similar things and they forced me to keep them."

"Who?"

He lets me wait a bit. "The Himuras, the family of my grand-mother. I assisted at the funeral of her brother. That's when they lent me those clothes."

"You see, it was so easy, Shin-chan." Half angry, half surprised, he blinks at me, and I splash water in his face. Just to get another jet of cold water in my face. "Hey, it's the fucking truth. I always have to pull all these interesting things out of you." I protest, trying to dodge the water.

"You're a fine one to talk." He states dryly, turning off the water. What does he mean by this?

We fall in silence again.

"How did the movie making go yesterday?" Shintaro asks after a while. "Did you like it?"

Fucking hell, I almost forgot. Yesterday should have been my first day as a famous movie actor. Starting with my participation in this science fiction movie in which a crazy professor tries to take over the world. But the whole thing was a fucking fraud. I could better have spent yesterday evening in his company, even with the missy or the shrimp. "You won't believe it, but it was boring." I complain about the whole useless evening. "I don't think that I will go back. They just let us march in groups. Over and over again."

"After all you were supposed to be robots, isn't it? The creatures of a mad professor. Just pawns."

Fuck logic!

"Fuck it! I don't want to be or to play a pawn." The idea of being in a movie had blinded me. I hadn't thought about the role. "It is not fun at all, I thought playing in a movie would be fun, not just boring repetitions of the same scene."

Shintaro chuckles. "That is how it is, after all, playing in a movie. You never see the result of all your work before the end. It's not like theatre, where you can sense the progress you make."

Blah, blah! Fuck logic! Dealing with his fucking logical arguments is not funny, and as angry as I grow, my stomach reminds me that I haven't fed it for hours. Even Shintaro can hear this sound. His question "Are you hungry?" is accompanied by chuckling.

"No, man, I'm just figuring out how to talk with my stomach. Of course, I'm hungry. I had only a few drinks and a few leftovers from your yesterday's dinner."

"Sorry, I had things on my mind other than eating." Still grinning, Shintaro leaves the bathtub, pads dripping through the room and takes something hideous from a hook.

"Fuck, I thought you had taste." I say laughing, when he puts on the bathrobe - a fluffy, pink thing.

"What are you talking about?" He is asking a bit stupefied.

"That thing you are wearing hurts my eyes, it's -"

"Magenta." Magenta? Fuck it! "Yes, I know. Everyone has the right to a few foolish attitudes." He doesn't sound angry at all, just amused.

"Yeah, but this thing looks really disgusting." I tease him. "Not even a woman would wear such a thing."

"How can you know this? You haven't seen so many women in bathrobes." As usual, he has the last word. But he can't change the fact that this bathrobe is fucking ugly. Grinning, then anticipating something delicious to eat and more sex afterwards, I sink deeper in the bathtub. Relaxing.

Though, Shintaro doesn't come back so quickly. At first, 'cause after some minutes of waiting, I can hear the door bell. I'm sure it is the missy returned from work. It was him who asked her to let him know whenever she returns from work. Myself, I had seen their discussion about this. But now the thought that she might find out what happened tonight is fucking awkward. They are talking and talking, I can hear it through the wall and the half open door. Would be better if I understood what they are chatting about. Finally she leaves, but he still doesn't return.

The water grows cold, and I get out. Taking one of the towels from a shelf and wrapping it around my hips, my gaze falls on the silver chain laying innocently on the shelf above the sink. What perfect occasion to have a look at it! It's a ring that looks a lot like a wedding ring for me, and little copper dragon. He has a red eye, and he carries a pearl in his mouth. October 31, 1958 is written inside the ring. It is indeed a fucking wedding ring. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, almost fearing that my lovely red-head might be standing behind me - seriously pissed off. Luckily, he isn't, but I lay the chain down anyway.

I feel cool air and a trace of smoke even before I enter the room. Shintaro is standing by the open window. The rain has stopped, but the air still smells heavy with water. He is smoking, looking fucking closed up. He doesn't even glance at me, but he has set a plate with sandwiches on the little table.

"What happened?" I ask, taking one of the sandwiches.

"Oh, nothing." With a swift movement, he projects the rest of his cigarette out of the window. "I was thinking."

"About what?" Chewing I let myself fall on the couch, not caring about the water soaking in it. I'm almost sure that he wouldn't answer, but one more time, he surprises me.

"About this situation, it is a bit strange." He leans his arms on the back of the armchair. "It's embarrassing and ridiculous at the same time, you know: the guy is hiding his lover in the bathroom, while he speaks with the girl who has a crush on him."

The sandwich almost chokes me, when I start laughing. "I thought, you wouldn't realize."

An amused glint appears in his eyes: "Sam, I'm not blind. At first, I didn't take it seriously, but she is not six years old anymore." The amusement fades slowly. "No, I don't know how she would deal with the truth. But leaving is no option, as long as she has problems with these criminals."

I swallow the rest of my sandwich and grab another one: "Were they here again, yesterday?"

"Yes. I have no plan yet on how to get rid of them."

"Look, you take this all too seriously. The missy is naive, she didn't realize when we were flirting." He opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything when I raise my hand. With the sandwich in it, my cool gesture is not as cool as I have planned. But, hell. "As long as we are not making out under her eyes, she will never notice. In the meanwhile, we can come up with a plan on how to get rid of these jerks and how to find another guy for her." It works, and I'm very proud of myself. Shin-chan hides his extremely amused smirk behind his bangs. "Hey, my plan is just perfect. After all, we both have a good taste." Fuck it, my cheeks grow a bit warmer now. Quickly, I add: "I'm talking about men, not bathrobes."

"If this bathrobe hurts your eyes so much, I should hurry to and get rid of it." He comments, a wide smile on his face. Then raising his upper body he starts opening the sash.

I hurry to finish my sandwich. It's fucking difficult, my throat feeling extremely dry.

*

... The tension of the past few weeks is gone. The movie was good, a very cool detective story ,just how I like them. And we are chatting about it. ... Everything seems to be as fine as before.

"Hey, nigger fag!" The voice of the drunkard makes him freeze for seconds. I haven't even noticed this man when we went past this bar.

"Sam," While we are walking a bit faster, he lays his hand on my shoulder. Something I would have died for in the last weeks. But now I feel that he is really anxious. "when I tell you to run away, then do it. Promise me!"

"Okay." What else could I say? I'm completely stunned, to see him scared like this. This wasn't the same man. He had never let someone see when he was disturbed.

"Hey, nigger, do you try it with white boys now?" It's a second voice. I turn my head to have a look. Four men are following us. All drunk, but not enough to be clumsy. On the contrary, they look very determined, like only drunk men can be.

"Do they know you?"

He doesn't answer, but his lips are tight, his whole body tense. Maybe, they have seen him another night with - I have no time to think about it, because I feel his hand clasping my shoulder.

"You are grown quite greedy, nigger, looking for white flesh." It's the third man, so much nearer than before.

"Run away, Sam." He yells at me, and the alarm in his voice pushes me forward as hard as his hand. I run. After a while, I realize that nobody has followed me. Feeling like a coward, I stop and return.

... It's the dark space between two houses. Over and over again, I run against them, fighting them. I grow tired, but I can't give up. No, I can't, I can't leave him alone. ... I send blows in every direction, desperate crying rings in my ears. I have to - I have to stop them. ... One more time, they try to hold me back, to shove me against a wall, but I'm stronger. Invincible. I give one of these assholes a hard punch in his stomach. ...

... And suddenly it is dark. I hear the harsh breath of another person. After a few seconds the light is turned on. My hazed eyes focus and a small figure with red hair approaches the bed and lays a hand on my chest.

"Sam, you had a bad dream." The voice sounds rough, but familiar. Oh yeah, pictures are flashing through my mind ... I remember fucking this red-head. Twice. Later, he asked me to sleep over and we transformed the couch in a proper bed. And now this red-head is sitting beside me in an undershirt and boxers, clutching his stomach with one arm. Looking so fucking concerned and worried. I raise my hand to my face, to brush the strange haze away from my eyes. It feels wet. I'm ... I'm fucking crying.

"Turn off the fucking light" I spit, pushing his hand away from my chest. "Just turn off the fucking light. Will you?"

The red-head doesn't answer, but stands up and does what I want. Then I hear him going to the armchair and settle down. Breathing is easier in the darkness. Fuck it, I hadn't dreamt about it for such a long time. I should have known, that he would bring it back. Just with this strange attitude of his, making something normal of things awfully wrong. Awfully sick. Why the fuck can he do this to me? I should just go and never return, beating him senseless before I go.

"Sam." Lying on my back, staring in the darkness, I've heard him lighting a cigarette. But he hasn't said anything for a very long time. "Sam, you may run away from me." Can he read my fucking thoughts? "But, you can never run away from yourself, and you know this."

Annoying, his ability to read other people's thoughts so easily. I wished I could still consider him a casual fuck, just a pretty ass begging me to fuck him. But I can't.

"Can you give me a cigarette, too?"

"Yes, wait a second!"

Shintaro rises from the armchair, comes over to me. Sitting up on the bed, I take the cigarette from his hand and let him light it for me. After this, he returns to his place. And I'm so fucking grateful for this distance, I'm feeling pathetic.

"Remember I told you my parents live in Charleston, and they adopted me."

"Yes."

"This is already the start of the shit. My parents are deeply convicted fighters against racial injustice. Adopting a whatever but not really white child was one of the things they did because of their convictions. However, generally, it was fine living with them." I make a pause to take a draw. It's good to have something in my hands. "This guy," I can't say his name. I know it would ruin the show, turning it into something pathetic and ridiculous. "was very active in the Civil Rights Movement. For that reason he came very often to visit my parents. Although they were Quakers, not Baptists like him. They even permitted me to sing in the choir he directed. And he was just cool, he always spoke to me like an adult. He was an amazing musician, excelling in many different styles. A hundred times better than Arthur, I can tell you." Another draw, then I reach a bit blindly for the ashtray standing on the table. "It was him who taught me to play the saxophone, because I didn't want to play a boring piano. A very interesting guy, and like your aunt a true believer in non-violence. Oh, he never fled conflicts, and could be very severe if necessary. But violence was never an option in his political convictions. And he was gay, or bi. Of course, he hid it. It would have ruined his reputation. Though, by coincidence, I saw him one time kissing another guy. It was a real passionate kiss. It looked - Seeing it was so much more amazing than trying to have a glance under some girl's skirt. You know, like normal boys do."

His only comment is a snort. Surely, the differences between the boys of Charleston and the boys of New York are not very big in these matters. Yeah, these memories are kind of nice. Safe.

"However, after seeing this kiss, things started to change. Especially my dreams. They grew more explicit. It ended that one day, during the saxophone lesson, I just kissed him without asking or warning him. Unfortunately, at the same moment, his sister came in, completely out of sorts. I think she knew about him, and held him responsible for the kiss. She dragged me home to my parents. It was hell." It's dark, but I have to close my eyes. Fuck that day! And fuck that other day! "They forbid me to see him, but I climbed out of the window and went to him anyway. Only to be sent home again. I was fucking angry with him. The first time, he treated me like a child as well as the others. I was so fucking stupid, too. I couldn't understand what I did to him. One day, he explained it to me. Or tried. The only thing I understood was that I had to wait five years. Five years didn't seem like a long time."

I stuff the cigarette in the ashtray before it burns my hand.

"He got killed a few days later. We had been in the movie theatre, and he wanted to accompany me home, because it was already late. These - fuckers knew him. Maybe they had seen him another evening with his friend. I have no idea. But they had the fucking idea that they needed to save me. Or they were drunk enough to be fucked up, and just wanting to kick the ass of a fag, even more as he was black. He told me to go home. I was thirteen and a stupidly obedient kid. Later, I came ... back." Hey, funny thing! There is wetness again on my face, but I don't feel like crying. In reality, it hadn't been like in my dream. In the fucking reality, I hadn't even had the chance of a useless fight against these fuckers. In this fucking reality, I just came too late. And everything was done. It doesn't take much time to reduce a living man to a dead bundle of blood and shit. "They had stabbed him with a knife, after - after doing him."

"Fuck!" His voice sounds as choked as mine.

"You said it. The next months were - just shit. Most people, when they knew afterwards that he has been gay, said that he had just asked for it by his behavior, because of his sinful life. And other crap. What the fucking cops said was even worse. And his friend was shocked to death, unable to do anything. I ended up buying a gun, I searched for these fuckers and killed them. After that I left the city and started to learn fighting. There's no way that I will ever be that helpless and weak. Nobody will ever do that to me. None of it."

Angrily I wipe my face. Fuck the tears! God, I hate him, for making me relive this shit. For making me feel this bitter, cold and angry. I would like to beat someone up. To pick a fight and beat someone senseless. I fist my hands so much it hurts. At most, I want to beat him. I'm almost hoping that he would make a very sweet comment, something to comfort me. Something that might give me a reason to stuff this crap back in his throat. But Shintaro is not so nice as to give me easy opportunities.

I sense him standing up. His slender shape moving before the window. "Listen, Sam!" His voice is very tense. As if he is holding back violent emotions. But no trace of pity. "You will not like what I have to say. I - I will not feed you up with stupid phrases like 'you will go over it', or 'time heals all wounds'. I would like to say 'stop feeling guilty', but I know it is not easy, either. Just this - you said you want never to be weak like that. Or helpless, letting things happen to you. But it's your own belief that makes you weak."

"What the fuck?"

Go on! Just give me a fucking reason to kill you! Slowly, I stand up.

"You believe everything that people said after this - murder." Asshole! I hear him taking a deep breath. "You believe that they are right." Fucking asshole! "You believe that two guys doing it is dirty and despicable. That the one who gets done is weak and even more despicable." A few steps are enough to close the distance between us. "But being attracted by this, you feel dirty yourself." He continues calmly, as if I wasn't standing before him. "Sure, you try to pretend that you don't take the blame because the other guy is seducing you, but deep inside, you are ashamed of what you are and what you feel and what you don't stop wanting. And you hate yourself for it."

As dark as it is, I fucking know that he has the same expression in his eyes as the other night. No fear, no shame, not even anger. His words are slicing me in small pieces, with the precision of a scalpel.

"You - you just say this because you want to fuck me."

I had so many other words in mind, but what comes out is this. Provoked by the dreadful, awkward feeling that the memory of this expression inspires in me. He doesn't react like any normal guy would react. He starts laughing, then quickly dodges the blow I aim at him.

"Do you realize how ridiculous this sounds? We are talking about what traumatized you, and the only thing you can think of is screwing. Is this the only thing bothering you? That someone might want it from you?" The amusement disappears as fast as it came. "But in the end, maybe this is indeed your main problem, because you believe that receiving it is a sign of weakness. I'm not denying what you say, but I'm in no hurry, and I have no intention of forcing you. Though, I won't under any circumstances act as a trashcan for your self-hatred." I'm right about to throw another punch at him, more precise this time. "I care too much for you to do you this favor. I care too much for you to let you stick with these crappy ideas." Fucking funny way to express these feelings. Just as strange as he is. But somehow his words take a part of my fury away. He doesn't leave me much time to think anyway. "You want people to respect you, and not to see you as a weak and dirty creature. It's alright, understandable. But you only gain respect when you respect the others and yourself first. Hate and shame just create new hate and shame, and both create violence and humiliation. When you are ashamed of yourself, you hate yourself. And you can do nothing more than spread this hate. End of the lecture. Just think it over."

I'm still feeling bitter and cold, but the anger has turned into calmly glowing embers. Slowly, I go back to the bed and settle down. And then even the embers become ash. I have heard similar words before, from that man who ended up bleeding and dead in a dark street.

"Fuck! I need a drink now."

"No problem!"

Before I can say anything else, Shintaro leaves the room. The padding of his naked feet barely audible. A little later, I see the light in his small, small corridor, and after a few minutes, he returns with two glasses and a bottle. Somehow he turns on the little lamp standing beside the bed. Then fills the two glasses.

"I thought the missy didn't like alcohol in her apartment." I blurt out when he hands me one of the glasses.

"Yes, that's why I just keep it in my own kitchen." He answers, settling down beside myself.

We clink the glasses and drink. It's really good Scotch Whiskey. Shintaro puts his empty glass on the table, while I'm refilling mine. He lays on his back, arms crossed behind his head, looking at me with friendly eyes. No trace of the former anger. Now as he is done with me, having shattered my pride, he seems to be the same as ever.

"You always talk as if it was easy." I empty the second glass in one draw. "Just walking through the streets, looking like the queerest queer and saying 'fuck yourself' to everyone staring at you."

He snorts, then sighs. "Good grief! No, it's not easy at all. When the whole world considers you as trash, you have to be very strong not to believe it. It's really infernal. The only way to break this is to change the way they look at you, to go beyond other people's fears and prejudges, to try to free them of these feelings." While he is speaking, everything is shifting. I hear his voice, and at the same time, it is the voice of the past. I see his face with this expression of deep conviction, and it is another face I see beyond these features. And, at this moment, I confess to myself that I know what attracts me other than the pure desire, what makes this guy so irresistible. It's the resemblance, not to the appearance and not even to the behavior, just the resemblance in beliefs. And I know for sure, that I don't want him to end dead in a dark street. "Sam, what's the matter with you?"

Just don't let us become too sentimental now.

"Are you always like that, Shin-chan?" I ask as coolly as I can.

"Like what?" With a swift move he rises to his knees, his chest almost touching my back. Though, only his hand roams over it.

"Crushing other people's lives with your incredible stubbornness." I accuse. His touch resonates in my body.

Fuck! I shouldn't have asked, 'cause he stops what he was doing. Then he raises the other hand to my face and turns it toward him. The gaze of violet eyes is scrutinizing me for some time. Making me wiggling, 'cause I start having other wishes than discussing.

"I could ask you the same thing." He says softly, then leans a bit forward to kiss me. It's a slow, but complete and decided invasion. Exciting, but ... but ... Shit, shit, shit! This goes out of my control again. Just before I consider getting him down in a few seconds, he breaks the kiss, withdrawing a bit. "Lay back."

I don't know why but the sound of his voice sends a shudder through my body. "Why?"

"Just a little lecture in shameless immorality." He says, pushing me back with both of his hands. Then his body is pressed tightly against mine, stirring up the beat with rocking movements of his hips. I grasp him. "Trust me, you will like it!" Whispers accompany the way of his lips and hands down my chest. How can he know it? How can he fucking know that I never had this? "Even when you are too scared to do it yourself, it doesn't matter."

"I'm ... not scared." I protest. His answer is a soft chuckle, while breathing in my navel. Oh shit! His mouth lingers over this place, teasing me with his tongue. The tension grows to an unbearable level. One second longer, and I would topple him and fuck him to the ground. Shit! He should just fucking do what he wants to. "Stop this!"

"Mm?"

"Oh fuck!"

This is like the mother of all wet dreams becoming real. Almost arching off the bed when I feel him kissing me there, I'm gaping and trembling. And kissing is only the beginning. His right hand pressed on my stomach holds me down. Fuck! I open my eyes wide, only to shut them tightly just one second later. Holy shit! I'm still gaping.

"Sam!" I protest loudly when he lifts his head. "Don't forget to breathe!"

"You bit- Shit! What the heck - are you doing?"

He only laughs, before he demonstrates to me exactly what he is doing.

Something that feels so good can't be wrong. I bury my hands deeply in his hair, lost to this feeling. Fiery silk running through my fingers, spread over my legs and my stomach. Tickling the skin. Augmenting the sweet torture. Silk and velvet. Warmth and wetness. Ravenous caresses ... growing wilder and rougher ... My lovely love! So generous! So marvelous! So ...

*

The alarm clock says past high noon, when I wake up. Unfortunately alone, but Shin-chan had told me that he had to work today. Replacing the book-guy on Saturdays was a part of his agreement. I remember vaguely that I heard the alarm-clock ringing some time before, but he must have silenced it very quickly.

I roll on my back, crossing my arms behind my head. Feeling incredibly good, though a little bit beaten up. Not in a bad way, just as if I had a box fight against the great Ali Norman. Honorably defeated. What a night! What a tricky little bastard! He is in no hurry, ha! But, hell, I can't complain. And my stomach is fluttering, when I remember the expression of his eyes when he thanked me afterwards.

At the moment when I think that I should get up, I hear a door slamming. It must be the missy, using the dance studio for her exercises. At first, I'm a bit embarrassed, but she would never come into this room, when nobody should be there. Besides, I think I can even take the risk of using the shower, 'cause it's the farthest room from the dance studio.

On the way to the bathroom, I see the message laying on the desk. I have an errand after work, but you can come later. Sh. P.S.: Coffee (in the Thermos flask) and sandwiches are in the kitchen. How sweet! How amazing, how many layers this guy has. One thing is sure, it will never be boring knowing him.

One hour later, I leave the apartment by the fire stairs, washed, dressed and fed. I immediately reject the idea of going home, I have to see him. And I can distract him for his last hour of work. 'Cause, I'm sure he could always use some distraction.

Funny thing, before I reach the store, I see the shrimp going inside with two pals. Fucking funny thing! It's not even his territory, so far away from Chelsea. But it's going to be even more funny, 'cause a few seconds later, my lovely friend leaves the store. At first, I'm just distracted seeing him, even his manner of walking wakes up some itching between my legs. Then I think I should stop leering over him. And at last I realize that the strange private detective is still following him, appearing from nowhere. We had never spoken about this again since we first saw the guy. Though, today this guy doesn't look like a salesman but like the true caricature of a detective. He is so fucking stupid.

I follow them on the other side of the street, perfectly camouflaged by my cool appearance. Who would see anything other than just a good-for-nothing thug in me? I even flirt with a few girls passing me, grinning at their outraged faces. Nobody would take me for a spy. But I'm such a perfect spy that I notice the second man following them. Though, this guy is walking on my own side. And I wouldn't have given him any thought, if I hadn't surprised him, throwing glances to the others. Being the last man in the line has a few advantages.

Finally, our trip stops when Shintaro enters a café. Perhaps he just wants to buy a new pack of cigarettes. I should tell him later that his stupid watchers follow him even when he's running errands. To maintain my camouflage, I sit at one of the out-door tables, waiting for his return and anticipating his blinking eyes.

Ten minutes have passed, and I start getting bored. To keep up my disguise, I have even ordered a coffee. And my cup is already empty. Maybe, Shintaro also had to use the men's room. The more intelligent of the observers has chosen my own strategy, while the other is standing before the window of a shoe store. As if shoes were interesting for longer than one minute.

Twenty minutes have passed, and I start getting seriously pissed off. Still no sign of my lovely red-head. Though, there had been other people leaving the bar or going inside, but not him. As if the fucking café had swallowed him. Fuck it! I stand up and go inside.

As I had expected the cigarette machine is beside the doors to the restrooms, but I'm not really surprised not to find him there. Fuck this little bastard! I don't find him in the men's room, either. He must have planned something today. An errand, ha! Fuck this errand! He promised me that we would work together.

"Hey," I have decided to ask the man behind the counter with cakes and sandwiches. The first glance at him and his gaze running over me had told me anyway that he was gay, too. "did you see a little, red-haired guy. Girly. Violet eyes. Long hair, black beret, brown jacket, blue-jeans."

"Yours? Did he let you wait?"

Very wrong thing to mock me. Very wrong, when I'm honestly pissed off. "Answer my question, asshole!" I could feel the urge to damage the café a bit, if this guy wanted to annoy me.

"Huh! Now, I'm scared." Reaching over the counter, I push him hard against the shelf with glasses and cups. Some of them fall on the ground with a shattering noise. "He went to the restroom, changed into women's clothes and left." The guy answers, pushing my hands away. My mouth gapes open. Women's clothes! I hadn't paid attention to any woman leaving the café. "Maybe, he just wanted to get rid of you, as violent as you are."

"Just shut your fucking mouth!"

One more stupid word today, and I will explode. Kicking a chair on my way out, I leave the café. Fuck this bastard! Playing around with me like that. Now, it was by far too late to find out where he had gone. And he must have seen me, when he came out. Fuck this tricky little bastard!

After a while, I realize that I'm back on the way to the missy's house. Whatever he has planned today, there must be a hint somewhere. In his room. Wherever. And even if I found no hint, I could still make a mess and release my fury this way.

How could he do this to me? After last night?

Author's notes: Hehe, two cliffhangers ... Now, you are forced to read the next chapter.

1. Let's talk about characters: For Sam, I have to say the same things as for Shintaro. Some aspects of my story and the new biography make him somewhat OOC for Sano. Although, he is very close to my perception of the character, but perception is very individual. After my opinion, there is a bit more behind Sano than what he shows openly, a difference between the image and deeper layers of his personality. However, I focus his main conflict on the wish "never to be weak". This means physical weakness as much as psychological weakness.

2. Let's talk about characters (II): Of course, Sam's mentor is meant to be Captain Sagara. I have chosen not to give him a special name. But if you want, I can always do it whenever I need to mention him again.

The "great Ali Norman" mentioned in this chapter is Anji, but in some aspects influenced by the "image" of Muhamed Ali.

3. Let's talk characters (III) and family: As you could see, I made Miya's husband a relative to Megumi. He could be the great-grandson of Megumi's brother. Wouldn't it be fine if he was alive and had settled down in Nagasaki, where their parents have lived for some time? [I will look for the link in maigo-chan translation index, it's volume 3, scène19.] However, there are lots of stories that could be told. But not by me.

Some words about the photo: This story is not meant to be a reincarnation fiction in the classical meaning. It's more a demonstration of my conviction that we became what we are by genetic and social influences, and that, in a family, some character aspects are passed on the following generations. So for earning a family typical behavior my hero has both the genetic basic and the influence of another family member. This is the reason why Kumiko is so important.

As for the clothes, it's the black haori and the gray hakama mentioned above, but of course, Sam doesn't know the right names. In the 60's, men might still have worn traditional clothes for funerals. And as Kenji's funeral was almost an official event because of his veteran status, it's even more logical that Shintaro could have worn them. Thanks Kamorgana for the confirmation of my idea.

4. Let's talk lifestyle: Music: Tonight and Cool (lyrics Steven Soderblom, music Leonard Bernstein), both are from the "West Side Story"
Movies: A Fistful Dollars, (1964, directed by Sergio Leone, music by Ennio Morricone, starring Clint Eastwood.) I permit me the liberty to keep this movie a little bit longer in the movies theatres.

Yojimbo (The Bodyguard) (1961, directed by Akira Kurosawa): I have no idea if this movie was shown in the U.S., but it could always have been.

James Dean and Marlon Brando: I don't know if I have to say so much about them. Both of them played in New York the theatrical version of the movies that started their career: East of Eden, written by John Steinbeck, directed by Elia Kazan, and A Streetcar called Desire, written by Tennesee Williams, directed by Elia Kazan.

Sal Mineo, (1939-1976): This is a little joke of mine: Sal Mineo was born in Harlem, New York. He got relegated from school for trouble making and was send to a ballet school where he got his training. He started his career as Plato in the movie Rebel Without A Cause. In the late 60's, he realized his attraction to men and lived a relatively open gay lifestyle. I even have a little link: http://www.salmineo.com

5. Let's talk about philosophy: Free the others to free yourself: The little speech of my hero is an ultra-condensed version of Jean-Paul Sartre's philosophy. I have to admit that I still haven't understood his ideas completely. My knowledge comes rather from the demonstration of some of his ideas in his theatre pieces and books. I will explain this in one of the next chapters.

6. Let's talk about poetry: Charles Beaudelaire, French poet, famous for his symbolist poems (mostly sonnets) and for his description of urban life in the late 19th century.

Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine belong to the same literary period, and both of them had homophile tendencies.

Do I need to present Blake and Whitman? If yes, I will add a note when I revise the chapter. I'll just tell you by this way, that the "Tyger" can be sung to the melody of "Twinkle, twinkle, little star." And that Whitman was gay.

Posted first: 26-02-2003