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“Doctor, I think my partner likes me.”
When he repeats this for the seventh time, I can’t help but roll my eyes. But this guy is here because Oda Sakunosuke referred him to me, it won’t be appropriate to kick him out just like that. I try my best to squeeze out a kind smile.
“Then, Tsushima-kun. Why did you come to consult me on such a matter?”
He blinks those big brown eyes, picks up a mint candy from the tray, and unwraps it as he says, “Because you’re a doctor.”
Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Tose. I’m male, a psychiatrist by profession, and thirty-six in age. According to the fortune teller by the overhead bridge, this year is the year of my zodiac sign, so I will be facing great misfortune. This prediction has yet to be fulfilled for the time being, but as for bothersome things—I have one right in front of me.
That’s right, it’s the young man sitting across from me, Tsushima. This brat is tall with long legs, has a face so attractive the word handsome would be an understatement, could definitely outshine the bunch of young heartthrobs out there if he ever goes into acting for the screen. What a pity his brain isn’t functioning the same way as everyone else. Other people come to me to ask about important psychological questions, but he comes to chatter to me about trivialities between him and his partner, like how he tricked his partner into crossdressing when they were younger, or how they had fights that demolished buildings when they got older. Honestly I don’t mind listening to these interesting trivia, what really irks me is that he never pays a single cent for consultation.
“So doctor, do you think he likes me or not,” Tsushima asks again.
I glance at the empty snack tray and then at his expectant eyes. Finally I just point at the bruise on his left cheek peeking out from beneath the bandage and let out a helpless sigh. “He’s already beaten you up to this state, what do you think?”
Tsushima pauses for a moment, then leans back in his chair and laughs as if mocking himself. “It’s disheartening when you say it like that.”
I laugh along with him. I don’t know if he’s disheartened, but if he doesn’t leave soon, I’m gonna be disheartened over my take-out having gone cold. So with some coaxing I send Tsushima away.
“I’ll come back tomorrow, Tose-sensei.”
“Yes, anytime,” I say half-heartedly.
Today’s lunch is very appetizing. I take a bottle of red wine from my cabinet to go with the meal, and just as I’m uncorking the bottle, the door creaks open.
“Fuck, what shitty ass luck.” Chuuya-kun walks over to me while dusting off white fur from his shoulders.
I glance out and see the front desk girl’s Samoyed lazing under the sun by the clinic doors.
“Got smothered by the dog again?” I smile and pour him a glass of wine.
Chuuya-kun grunts unhappily and stares at the two glasses of red wine on the table with a slight frown. “You only have this brand here?”
I let out a laugh. “If you wanted to have a proper drink then you shouldn’t have come during my work hours.”
He takes a deep breath, sits in the chair Tsushima was in just now, and says solemnly, “Actually, I came here today to consult you on something, Tose-sensei.”
Hearing Chuuya-kun address me in this way, I sit up straighter and gesture for him to continue.
Chuuya-kun hesitates with his head down for a while, then says, “I think... my partner wants to harm me.”
Exactly. This is the kind of complication an expert psychiatrist should be analyzing. Persecutory delusion. Many high ranking officials and dignitaries have this common mental disorder, always thinking that their family and friends are untrustworthy, severely paranoid that their close ones want to cause them harm in order to replace them. Usually at this point I do not ask more, I simply assure them gently that they are overthinking. After all, as the doctor, I am an outsider. If I agree that yes someone might want to harm you, and a few days later they change their mind and start suspecting that I’m stoking the flames with ulterior motives and they end my life in anger, that would be so not worth it. I admit I’m not a good person, I value my life too much.
But this time I can’t just gloss this over, because the person telling me this is Chuuya-kun. I’m somewhat of an old acquaintance of his Ane-san, Ozaki Kouyou. A few years ago when Kouyou had an issue and regularly sought my treatment, Chuuya-kun always accompanied her. I got to know him well. Both of us enjoy opera and collecting vinyl records, and we share a penchant for fine wine. At my age, it’s rare to have a friendship across different generations, and I quite cherish him. So from the bottom of my heart I do not want him to be harmed.
“Then I suggest you—” I stare at Chuuya-kun’s eyes and say in a low voice, “kill him first.”
I have heard about things within the mafia, that the new executive position will likely be chosen between Chuuya-kun and his partner. Whether or not Chuuya’s partner wishes him harm, this will still be an advantageous course of action.
Chuuya abruptly jumps up from his chair, and the two glasses of red wine nearly spill onto the table.
“Kill, kill him?!” His lips are slightly agape, looking very shocked.
I smile a little sheepishly. True, jumping to a conclusion before fully understanding the situation is too rash.
“Then, Chuuya-kun, tell me more about it.”
I adjust my gold-rimmed glasses, interlace my ten fingers, and ask him seriously.
“He always teases me about my height.”
“Pours vinegar into my champagne.”
“Says I have bad taste.”
“Steals my missions.”
I listen attentively as he speaks, and somehow my thoughts trail back to my teenage years. At that time I too had a crush—on a girl who sat in front of me. Whenever I gently tugged on her ponytail, she would turn around and glare at me with her cheeks puffed up angrily in a cute way. And so I especially loved teasing her; every time I saw her riled up, the delight I felt in my heart was indescribable. It was a kind of exhilaration even intense climaxes from adulthood cannot compare to.
“Tose-san, are you listening?” Chuuya-kun waves a hand in front of my eyes with a frown.
I hurriedly curb my creepy smile and cough lightly. “Chuuya-kun, how old is your partner?”
“Slightly younger than me, almost eighteen too.”
I stroke my chin and ponder for a moment. If Chuuya-kun’s partner is a thirteen, fourteen year old kid, I might still think he has a crush on Chuuya-kun. But he’s seventeen or eighteen… it would be too childish to use such tactics. But if it’s not that he has a crush on Chuuya-kun, if it’s that he wants to harm him, he should be keeping a low profile and getting along with Chuuya-kun on the surface. This kind of “I am so eager to let the whole world know that Chuuya is being bullied by me” mentality really doesn’t make sense.
I ruminate with my head down while Chuuya-kun starts drinking his glass of wine.
“Anyway, I just feel like he’s holding back,” Chuuya-kun concludes after downing the last sip of wine with narrowed eyes.
I hesitate, but decide to speak, “Is it possible that he actually…”
Really kinda likes you?
Chuuya-kun doesn’t seem to hear me, his gaze glued to the convenience store plastic bag on the sofa.
“You like eating canned crab meat too?”
“Eh?” I glance at the name of the store on the bag but I have no recollection of it. Probably something Tsushima accidentally left behind.
“Nah, I don’t like this stuff, it’s from a colleague.” The mere thought of Tsushima gives me a headache, and I hurriedly make up something to gloss it over.
“Then…” Chuuya-kun purses his lips for a moment and asks, “Can I take it away if you don’t want it?”
“Sure, but are you gonna eat it yourself?” I remember that he doesn’t really like seafood.
“No.” He straightens his hat and smiles, bright like the warm afternoon sun. “I’m gonna feed it to my dog.”
Huh. When did Chuuya-kun get a dog? I didn’t know he had a dog.
“My partner definitely likes me!” The next morning, Tsushima arrives as promised. He speaks with a glowing expression, eyes brimming with elation about to overflow. Such an attractive young man could probably please the hearts of many young girls just from seeing him in the streets. But I reckon my face doesn’t look pleased right now.
Last night, unable to stand it anymore, I called Oda to lament Tsushima’s mental attacks on me.
Oda just laughed wryly, saying, I didn’t expect senpai to be unable to stand it too, I thought your endurance would be much stronger than ours. It seems like Oda and his friend have also been tortured by Tsushima, poor them. Never mind, if I don’t go to hell who will? With the fearless spirit of saving the living, I grit my teeth and ask Tsushima, “Pray tell, what did your partner do for you?”
“He brought me supper last night!”
“Is that so.” I adopt a passive, neither agreeing nor disagreeing approach.
“...And what he brought was my favorite canned crab meat.”
“Ohh, how touching.” I let out a yawn, and when I glance up I suddenly catch a glimpse of an additional something on him.
“Eh, Tsushima-kun,” I point at the watch on his wrist. The design is smooth and sleek, and the strap is delicately well-crafted; evidently it is costly. “Who gave this to you?”
“A woman, I think.” His expression is a little unnatural.
“I see.” I rub my chin and smile impishly. “She gives you such an expensive wristwatch and you don’t mention a word about it. Your partner brings you a tin can and you’re so grateful you could cry.”
He pretends not to hear my teasing, just takes off the watch and tosses it at me.
“I’ll give it to you if you like it so much.” He runs off after saying that.
I pick up the watch and examine it—the hour hand just reached ten. Shorter than his past treatment sessions by at least an hour.
Pocketing the ill-gotten gain, I flop down on my desk to take a nap. I keep feeling like I forgot to ask about something just now, hmm, what was it again?
It’s Saturday. I went shopping at the city centre in the evening and bought some snacks from the convenience store downstairs in preparation for my all-night movie marathon. Just as I put the disk into the DVD player, my phone suddenly rings.
“Is this Tose-sensei?”
Different from his usual cheerful tone, his voice is tinged with some tiredness.
“...Tsushima-kun?”
“Mm, doctor, I’ve run into some problems.” I can imagine his weak smile just from his voice.
As the saying goes, there’s no such thing as a free lunch wristwatch. Glancing at the fine diamonds glimmering on the dial, I sigh and walk to the door.
“Where are you now?”
Do you know what Yokohama looks like at 3am?
I do. The sky is blindingly dark, but the stars are blindingly bright. Like the surgical light on operating tables.
Fifteen minutes after the call, I reach the port, and it seems like a firefight just ended there. The air is filled with pungent smoke and the metallic smell of blood lingers within the moist sea breeze.
“Tsushima—” Not sure if there are enemies around, I call out to him very softly.
A hand suddenly grabs my ankle from behind, scaring me so much I almost kick the head hidden in the grass.
“Doctor, it’s me.” In the moonlight, Tsushima makes a “shhh” gesture at me.
Tsushima got shot in the lower left side of his rib cage; I brought him to a known underground doctor to clean and treat the wound. It was dawn by the time we got back to my apartment. Tsushima is lying quietly on my couch, docile like a cat.
I don’t know what he does in the Port Mafia, but judging by his age, he’s probably one of the lowest level assassins.
“Hey, where are the people on the job with you?”
His eyes are half-closed, as if about to fall asleep, and he mumbles, “Tose-sensei, are you really a doctor?”
“I...” I’m thinking about how to respond when his phone rings. The word slug flashes on the screen. Probably not an enemy since the name is stored. I hesitate before deciding to accept the call.
“Ahhh, don’t answer it!” Tsushima suddenly jumps up, grabs the phone and throws it on the sofa.
“An enemy?” I ask with a frown.
Tsushima moved too fast just now, I think it pulled on his wound. He sits against the wall on the carpet, sweat beading on his nose bridge.
“No.” Tsushima pauses and says, “It’s my partner.”
Partner? The partner who, according to him, “loves him to death”?
My eyes widen. “Then why didn’t you answer?”
“I left him behind to go on a mission by myself ahead of schedule again.” Tsushima’s gaze is lowered, and there’s a bitter smile on his lips. “He probably thinks I want to take sole credit. Every time I do that he gets so angry.”
“But this is too dangerous for you.” There’s a lingering feeling of unease in my heart as I think about the weapons and bodies scattered around the port earlier.
“It’s okay,” Tsushima shrugs, and says a little mysteriously, “I’m not really a normal person.”
“Don’t put up a front. You’re just scared he’ll die from overexertion.”
Tsushima looks at me with some surprise, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence between us stretches on for nearly fifteen minutes, during which his cell phone rings furiously nonstop, as if it could explode at any moment with the sheer anger from his partner. The phone moves bit by bit toward the edge of the couch from its vibrations, and eventually slides to the floor. The battery falls out. The world goes silent.
“Tose-san, do you think he likes me?” Tsushima suddenly looks up at me.
Somehow the distance between us has been shortened. At the end of the day, Tsushima is probably just an ordinary teenager who needs love and care and a friend. I’m very grateful for his trust, and I know very well the answer he wishes to hear. But Tsushima, the best thing I can give you in return is honesty.
“Tsushima-kun, I don’t know whether or not your partner likes you.” I sigh, “But you definitely like your partner.”
The crisp, late autumn air flows into the room through the open window. He gives me a faint smile, as if he’s already known the answer since a long time ago.
“Doctor, you’re such a brutal person.”
It’s December. The year is coming to an end and there’s a lot I need to spend money on. My mom said she wants to renovate the old house, my sister said she wants a better graduation gown, some college classmate I haven’t been in touch with for years even called to say that he’s getting married.
I’m staring at the numbers in my bankbook with a frown when the doorbell rings.
I hastily open the door to a beautiful woman in a kimono.
“Tose-sensei, it’s been a long time.”
I scratch my messy hair and welcome her in with a polite smile, “A rare visitor of mine. What is it about this time?”
Ozaki Kouyou looks around my plain living room and smiles sweetly, “It’s a good thing—I came to give you money.”
I raise my eyebrows and smile without saying anything. As someone who holds a seat in the mafia’s executive position, this woman isn’t simple. She wouldn’t give me money for no reason.
“On a serious note. I want you to do me a favor.”
See, just as I thought.
We sit at the dining table, a cup of hot tea each in our hands.
Kouyou stares at the leaves floating in her cup and begins casually, “Chuuya’s been hanging out with you a lot lately.”
I take a sip of tea and nod quietly.
“Then have you noticed,” Kouyou’s eyebrows are knitted, “that the boy seems to have reached the love-struck stage of puberty.”
A laugh bursts out of me and I nearly choke on my tea. “You came to see me just for that? Chuuya-kun is already eighteen, it’s very normal to fall in love.” There’s no need to keep a tight eye on him like a shepherd does a fat lamb.
“If it’s a normal relationship, of course I won’t object. But it seems that he likes someone from the mafia.” Kouyou smiles bitterly and continues, “You know our days are like licking blood from the edge of a knife, even in a high position, our lives are still fraught with danger. If Chuuya chooses someone from the mafia to be his lover, what if that person dies, how is he to spend the rest of his life haunted by memories?”
“I understand, don’t say any more. Kouyou—” I hastily pull out a few tissues and stuff them at her, but it’s a little too late.
“Don’t let him be like me.” Kouyou blinks and teardrops slip down her thick lashes. Four years have passed, and the scar is still a heavy trauma for her.
“Okay, I’ll do whatever you want,” I sigh. All my life I’ve never been able to stand seeing a woman cry.
Kouyou gracefully folds the tissue into a square, and her lips open lightly.
“The Port Mafia will be hosting a dinner on Christmas Eve, many dignitaries and businessmen will be coming. I happen to be abroad that day, and Chuuya will attend on my behalf. On that day you just need to stay by his side, keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t drink too much wine, otherwise he’ll go crazy. When he meets our competitors, restrain him a little, don’t let him get into fights...”
I’m dumbfounded. This woman’s control over her emotions is too strong.
“Oh, and most importantly.” She snaps her fingers and looks at me seriously, “If any random nobodies give him gifts, remember to get rid of them.”
“......”
I suddenly feel like I just got tricked.
The Port Mafia, number one underground organization in Yokohama—when it comes to wealth, they really are wealthy. Just to host this dinner party, they’ve booked the entire hotel. Beautiful women weave through the venue from time to time, but my mind isn’t on them at all. Macarons, truffles, brownies... the desserts here are the most tempting.
“Tose-san—” Chuuya-kun calls.
“Yea, what’s wrong?” I hurriedly turn back.
The corners of Chuuya-kun’s mouth twitch a few times, and his brows furrow, “I thought you went to put your plate away, but you got another plate.”
I’m a little embarrassed to be told that by a kid. Looking around, I realize that the guests have all left and we’re the only two left in the large banquet hall. “Hehe, I’m just very tired,” I laugh sheepishly.
There actually wasn’t really any need for me to worry much today. Chuuya-kun’s demeanor was gracious, never condescending, and his sense of propriety was well mastered. Kouyou was obviously overconcerned.
“Tose-san, did I receive any other gifts today?” Chuuya leans against the balcony railing and lights a cigarette.
I walk up to him and look out at the fishing boat lights in the distance, unsure of how to answer. According to the list Kouyou gave me, I only accepted a few gifts from the daughters of politicians, and I let Kouyou’s men covertly dispose of most of the other gifts. I only secretly kept one—it was an anonymous black gift box, and the rose on top of it was just too delicate, the scarlet petals were still adorned with dew, how could I bear to put it to the torch?
I discreetly opened it before dinner, and inside was a rough, heart-shaped, handmade chocolate. The temperature in the banquet hall was so high that the engravings on it had melted. I could faintly make out the word love in the center, and of the first five letters of the creator’s name, only two remained, “DA”. It was a gesture of sincerity after all, so I... helped eat it on Chuuya-kun’s behalf.
I hesitate and ask, “What’s the person’s name? I’ll help you find it.”
Chuuya-kun tilts his head in deep thought, his eyebrows furrowing more and more tightly.
“Then, are you looking for a gift from your partner?”
His back jerks suddenly, and he stands there in the shadows for a long time without saying anything.
Shit, what Kouyou said can’t be true? He really has a thing for his partner?
“Of course not, there’s nothing I want.”
Chuuya-kun puts out the cigarette and exhales a last ring of smoke; it’s swiftly blown away by the wind.
I’ve once seen these words in a movie:
When a single butterfly in the Amazonian rainforests flaps its wings, it can cause a tornado in Texas, United States two weeks later. This is called the butterfly effect.
So me eating that one piece of chocolate of unknown origin, what effect will it cause? As I stare at the shrinking streetlights through the car window, Chuuya-kun’s forlorn expression somehow appears in my mind. For some reason, I keep feeling like the Christmas present Chuuya-kun was anticipating is the one I secretly kept. My mind is in a state of turmoil, as if I’m standing at the edge of a cliff amidst strong winds. I regret it now, my act of greed could possibly change the fates between two people.
I didn’t expect God's punishment to come so quickly. As soon as I enter my house, I feel a cramping pain in my abdomen, and cold sweat runs down my back. I spend most of the night vomiting and having diarrhea, and by dawn I’m still dying, so I use my last bit of strength to call an ambulance. When they put me on the stretcher, my whole body is frail. Good thing my guilt of having separated two lovers is now gone—I’ve literally saved Chuuya-kun’s life.
Kouyou arrived at the hospital as soon as she learned of my condition. I was moved to tears, but that woman left after asking the doctor about the test results.
“Nobody tried to poison Chuuya, so I’m relieved.”
Holding the bank card she left behind as repayment, I can’t help but feel some curiosity amidst my sorrow—if it wasn’t poison, then what kind of heaven-destroying, hell-razing cuisine was it?
I had to stay in the hospital for a week and rest at home for three more days before I could return to work. As I look up and see the full snack tray at the corner of my desk, I’m reminded that Tsushima hasn’t come to see me for a long time.
After that incident, I didn’t find Tsushima that annoying anymore. He often brought me canned crab meat. Occasionally, I kept him for lunch. When I think back, the last time he came to see me was mid-December. Our conversation went something like this:
“He came back to Yokohama yesterday and gave me a belt.”
“What did he give other people?”
“Belts, too.”
“......”
“But I think the one he gave me is a new design.”
“Tsushima, you’re delusional in love.”
“Ah, is there a cure?”
“Yes, hurry up and go confess.”
“Eh, I’ll get beaten up.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have me to collect your corpse when the time comes.”
“Okay, then I’ll go try.”
I wonder how it went. There’s no time like the present, so I call him directly to ask him for a meetup.
We arranged to meet at a bar on a shopping street. It’s dusk when Tsushima arrives. The young man’s lean physique looks willowy in the twilight.
I wave at him, “Did the confession succeed?”
Tsushima sighs deeply with a look of frustration, like a large dog that lost a fight to a cat.
“I keep feeling like it got muddled by some bastard.”
“Ah-choo—” I suddenly feel a little cold and hurriedly take a few sips of vodka to warm up. “Rejected?”
Tsushima takes the drink I handed over and frowns, “Hard to say. I gave him a gift, but it feels the same as if I haven’t given it at all.”
“That can’t do—” I stand up to pat him hard on the shoulder, but my hand misses.
“Tose-san, is everything okay?” Three Tsushimas are coming towards me at the same time.
I rub the corner of my forehead, chagrined. My one weakness is that I get drunk right away when I touch alcohol. I can only stay conscious for half a minute at most. With only half a minute left, I grab the hand of one of the Tsushimas and begin to lecture him in a serious manner.
“Young man, you can’t be so cowardly.”
“When you reach my age, you’ll understand that being able to find that someone amidst oceans of people is a miracle.”
“You don’t lose anything if you confess. Wait till he marries someone else one day then you’ll cry.”
“Or maybe the gift you gave was wrong, what do you need, just tell me—”
The last thing I remember is that I threw a hard squarish object at Tsushima, I think. After that I fell unconscious, I don’t even remember how I got home.
In the early hours of the morning I suddenly receive a phone call; the caller ID is Chuuya-kun, but the person speaking is clearly Tsushima. Maybe I’m dreaming.
“Tose-san, are you still awake?” Tsushima’s voice is very gentle, as if someone is sleeping beside him.
I walk to the balcony and see that soft snowflakes are dancing in the night. My mood is inexplicably soothed.
“I am now.” I laugh, “Hurry up and say whatever it is you wanna say.”
He laughs on the other end of the phone, and I understand at once.
“Tsushima you confessed successfully?”
“Sort of.”
“Fucking sleep or get out, stop with the noise.”
Eh, it really is a dream. In my trance, I hear Chuuya-kun’s mumbling voice. But Chuuya-kun in the dream world soon disappears. It’s still Tsushima occupying the main stage.
“So, did you take a beating, Tsushima?”
“Not yet, but tomorrow morning I’ll probably get beaten to death.”
Yo, seems that something indescribable happened. I can imagine that brat’s grin of happiness all the way from across the phone.
I laugh, “Then remember to inform me to come collect your corpse.”
Tsushima lets out a soft, “Mm.”
Hanging up the phone, I sleepwalk back to bed. I’ve just fallen asleep when I’m jolted awake by another phone call.
“Tose—” It’s Kouyou.
“Do you know what happened this morning?”
I open my eyes and realize that it’s indeed already late in the day.
“I went to Chuuya’s room this morning and saw him sleeping with someone else in the same bed.”
Someone, someone else?
“That person had a bag with champagne, red wine, chocolates, and—lube!” Kouyou grits her teeth, “And the last item is the bank card I gave you.”
“No, Kouyou, listen to my explanation. I—” I lost my wallet at the bar yesterday!
The door to my room is slammed onto by some powerful unnatural force, scaring me half to death, and my panic reaches its peak the moment Golden Demon breaks through the door.
“Hey, hey, calm down. I’m in a civilian house now, the Special Division for Unusual Powers will definitely come for you.” I attempt to negotiate with her, but all I get in response is a beeping busy sound. There’s no time to think when Golden Demon charges at me with her sword, I open the window and jump out decisively. The wind is so strong that I can’t even open my eyes. I’m praying that I’ll land right on some branch when my body is suddenly caught in a strong rope and suspended in mid-air.
I look down—it’s a black-clad, black-haired boy who saved me, and the rope that caught me is extending out from his jacket.
The teenager puts me down on the ground, coughs a few times, and says indifferently, “Dazai-san told me to give you this.”
He hands me a passport with a plane ticket and bank card in it.
I use a few seconds to search through my mind rapidly, there’s no one I know with the last name Dazai. But time is limited, I can’t be bothered to care about these things anymore. I thank the black-clothed guy and hail a cab straight to the airport.
I’m sorry, but that is the end of the story. The above is what I roughly wrote on the plane after asking the stewardess for a pen and paper.
I’m looking down from 30,000 feet now, the buildings of Yokohama are as small as insects, maybe it is time to leave after all. But I still have so many questions. Tsushima got what he wanted, but when did Chuuya-kun’s love affair blossom? And who is the Dazai-san who gave me my ticket and passport?
I’m getting a little tired thinking about all of it, but I have one more thing to note before I go to sleep. Tsushima’s full name is Tsushima Shuuji, he’s probably close to 180cm in height, short dark brown hair, and he has one eye wrapped in bandages. He’s very good-looking especially when he smiles, just that it might seem a little mischievous. If you ever bump into him on the streets of Yokohama one day, please pull him aside immediately and give me a call.
After all, the Cartier matching couple rings he took from me were really quite expensive.