4am

This is a story of pure fiction, any resemblance to actual people or scenarios or other stories is coincidental.


4am

Chapter 1

         The clock on the wall struck 4am as some lingering patrons listened to the smooth jazz music coming from a jukebox near the corner. It was a small bar, well-known in certain circles. No one there really talked. The bartender wasn’t much for conversation, and the patrons just came in to drink in silence. It was a good place to just sit and have a drink while quietly reflecting on whatever brought them through the doors.
         Half-conscious and a bit buzzed, a young man paid his tab and headed for the door. He didn’t stand out too much, well-build, jet black hair, but a temperament that made him seemingly blend into his surroundings, he moved as if every muscle in his body was under his control. He stepped out into the chill Kyoto air, winter was coming, and glanced up the shady street. As he turned toward his path someone suddenly caught him from behind and pushed him against the wall behind the closing door. Before he could fight back he was caught up in a passionate kiss that he couldn’t seem to pull away from. Something was stopping him; it really was a mesmerizing kiss. After what seemed a lifetime the person pulled away and kissed his neck as they began to fumble with his pants. He couldn’t pull away.
         “I won’t stop if you don’t fight me off,” a deep voice whispered in his ear.
         Something suddenly came to his realization, he was about to be raped in a dark alley by some shady man. However, something told him that it was alright, “You couldn’t do it even if you wanted to.”
         His attacker froze and after a moment broke out into laughter. He backed away, standing in the dim light of the bar sign. The guy was young, like him, but he stood out. Whether it was his shoulder-length dyed red hair, or his suave demeanor, he was someone you couldn’t soon forget, “Well aren’t you confident, you’re an interesting guy. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
         And just as soon as it had begun, it was over. The man turned and vanished up the street, as the other leaned back against the wall, trying to sort out in his mind what had just happened. After a little while he headed on his way.

         A sad blues tune was coming out of the jukebox when he stepped back into the bar. It had been another long day, the kind of day that only a beer and some quiet could ease. He glanced around the bar and took a place away from anyone else. His eyes went over the room again, then rested on his fresh pint. As he was taking his first drink a voice came from over his shoulder, “Are you a regular here?”
         It was a voice he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since around 4am the night before. He turned and looked at the speaker, whose red hair was buried under a hat, “Yes, yes I am.”
         “I see. What’s your name?”
         He watched him for a moment and then replied, “Narita Kyoshiro.”
         The man nodded, “Well, Mr. Narita, --” His voice broke and he cleared his throat to cover it up, “I just—I just wanted to apologize for last night—you see, I was a bit drunk.”
         “Don’t worry about it, Mr.--?”
         “Sanada, Sanada Hiroshi.”
         Kyoshiro looked at him for a minute, “Your name sounds familiar.”
         “I just have one of those names,” Hiroshi replied.
         They kept to their drinks, and didn’t speak again. Hiroshi got up to leave around 3am and knocked on Kyoshiro’s table as a nonverbal goodbye as he passed. Hiroshi’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

         Kyoshiro swallowed a couple of pills to ease his hangover as he put on his gi and entered the dojo. His family had run it for generations and was relatively famous. He had grown up in the dojo, being trained from birth to one day take over the family business. He hadn’t been in a hurry to get in that day so all the students had already arrived. When he entered he saw his father addressing everyone, however someone new was with him. Kyoshiro stared at the man standing next to his father whose red hair was blazing in the morning light.
         “—the Sanada clan has been perfecting Aikido for generations, so it is an honor to have him come and be with us today,” his father announced. He noticed his son standing at the back of the room, “and to display this technique, Kyoshiro, the best of our dojo, will come forward to compare strengths through sparing.”
         Kyoshiro swallowed and joined their side, his eyes locked on Hiroshi, who appeared strong and detached while his eyes showed that he was just as surprised to see Kyoshiro there. They took their positions and at his father’s signal, the match began. Their moves were fluid and evenly matched. It wasn’t apparent who would take the match as the students cheered loudly from the sidelines. Kyoshiro was their best fighter, and Hiroshi was well-known in the martial arts world as well. As their bodies began to fatigue, their moves remained perfect and in a flash the match was over. Both men smiled at that moment, as they stood, both poised to deliver the killing blow. A draw.
         After the class ended, Kyoshiro and Hiroshi were given another chance to speak to each other. As Kyoshiro handed Sanada a towel he jabbed, “This is probably the last place I ever expected to see you.”
         “My father called in a favor since I was in town. My family runs a dojo in Tokyo that’s been competing with this one for centuries,” Hiroshi replied.
         “I didn’t peg you as a martial artist,” Kyoshiro lead him out to the garden and sat down on the edge of the porch.
         “I was trained, but it’s not my first choice of a career. It was intended that I take over the dojo when the time came, but I left the house to pursue another field. It took a while for my family to give in, but my success has persuaded them to accept it. The least I could do is honor these requests of his,” Hiroshi sighed.
         “So you’re not from Kyoto?” the bit of remorse that showed through his voice shocked him as he cleared his throat, “what business brings you here, Sanada-san?”
         “Please, call me Hiro,” he replied as he watched a bird land in a nearby cherry tree, “I’m in a band that’s headlining a series of concerts all over Japan. The record label’s trying to get some of their other projects heard by taking advantage of our large fan base. We spend about a week in each city, and sing one song a night to keep the people coming before our complete performance on the last night. Then we move on to another city and do it all over again.”
         “That would explain the red hair,” Kyoshiro laughed, “What band is it?”
         “SPEAK,” Hiro replied, “I’m the lead guitarist.” He swallowed hard and fidgeted during a moment of silence, “You really are an interesting guy.”
         “What do you mean by that?” Kyoshiro looked at him.
         Hiro couldn’t meet his gaze, “Two days ago I tried to rape you and here you are acting like nothing happened.”
         Kyoshiro looked out into the garden, “You couldn’t have done it in the first place.”
         “You would have stopped me?” Hiro asked; his voice small and unconfident.
         “No, you would have stopped yourself,” Kyoshiro replied, he stood up, “I’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the day, why don’t we get cleaned up a bit and I’ll show you around town?”
         Hiro smiled, “Sounds good.” Then he hesitated, “I forgot to bring a change of clothes.”
         Kyoshiro laughed, “I did have you pegged as air-headed. Don’t worry; you can borrow some of my clothes.”

         The waitress brought them their drinks as they sat inside a small café. Hiroshi had been surprised that Kyoshiro had the same taste in clothing, and they fit perfect as well. People stared a bit at the odd pair.
         Kyoshiro sat at one side of the table in a button up shirt and a pair of baggy jeans; despite his casual nature he could have easily been mistaken for a young CEO. While Hiroshi wore a neutral t-shirt over another dark long-sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans and his blazing red hair that made him look like a rockstar. No matter how someone looked at them, Kyoshiro was someone to respect while Hiroshi was someone to watch out for.
         “What made you leave your house to join a band?” Kyoshiro asked, ignoring the onlookers.
         “Well, I love martial arts, it was a natural choice to just follow the footsteps of my fathers before me, but there was just something about music that made me want to risk all the stability in the world to try my luck in it. Being onstage, listening to the crowds’ cheers, playing the guitar, it’s a rush that can’t be put into words and I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Hiro replied, a boyish grin on his face.
         “How’d you get involved with SPEAK?”
         “The lead singer and I formed the band in high school. It took a while for us to get on our feet, but the labels began to take notice of us and we signed a deal. It’s been 100 miles a minute since then.”
         “And you’re satisfied with it?”
         Hiroshi hesitated a bit, “Of course I am.”
         Kyoshiro watched him and then shifted the conversation, “I’m leaving my house as well.”
         “Why?” Hiro wasn’t expecting that, “You’re so good at it, and you look pleased with it all.”
         Kyoshiro smiled, “I could stay there and live out my life in comfort, never wanting for anything. But there’s a reluctance there. It’s like something is pulling me away from it; it’s not what I really want to do.”
         “What do you want to do then?”
         “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Kyoshiro replied.

         Their conversation covered the basics, childhood, likes and dislikes, women, hobbies, they ate when their food arrived and as the day wore on the time for Hiro to perform drew nearer. They walked to the stadium where the concert was being held.
         “Sorry that I can’t get you in, they’re strict backstage and the place is sold out,” Hiro said as they came to a stop in front of the door leading backstage.
         “To sell out a place like this, you guys must be really good,” Kyoshiro replied.
         Hiroshi had a painful smile, “The people say so.”
         Someone noticed them and came over, “Hiroshi-sama! We’ve been looking all over for you! The concert’s begun and you missed rehearsal!”
         “I’ll be at the bar later, I hope I’ll get to see you then,” Hiro replied, ignoring the stage hand.
         “I’ll see you then,” Kyoshiro bowed and began to walk away.
         Hiroshi watched him as he went, then turned and went inside.

         The bar was dark and musty as always, smooth blues tunes pumping out of the jukebox in the corner. Hiroshi walked through the door and slumped into a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. Someone moved and sat down next to him, “You look beat.”
         Hiro smiled at the familiar voice, “Kyoshiro, you been here long? I’m exhausted.”
         “You should have just gone back to your room, you weren’t putting me out by saying you’d meet me here, I come here every night,” Kyoshiro replied.
         “Yeah, but I wanted to have this chance to talk to you again. Tonight was our last performance here; we’re moving on to Kochi in Shikoku tomorrow.”
         “Ah,” Kyoshiro nodded, a bit sad that his new friend would be leaving soon.
         “We’ll be in Osaka in 4 weeks, that’s not too far from here if you want to go there,” Hiroshi replied a bit hopeful. It had been a while since he’d been able to open up to someone and he didn’t want to lose that connection so quickly.
         Kyoshiro was quiet for a moment and then shifted the conversation again, “How’d the performance go?”
         “The crowd loved it, even though I missed rehearsal we did the same in Shizuoka and Nagoya so it’s not like we really needed to rehearse it.”

         They kept talking and around 4am, Kyoshiro decided it was time to put a stop to Hiro because he had drunk too much already and was beginning to get a bit rowdy. Kyoshiro pulled him up off the stool and paid his tab. He shook the bartender’s hand as he went and followed Hiroshi out the door.
         Hiro was unstable on his feet so Kyoshiro supported him and got a cab. They climbed inside and went to Hiro’s hotel where Kyoshiro had to help him up to his room. It was a large penthouse suite with an incredible view. Kyoshiro helped Hiro to his bed, where he then proceeded to pass out.
         Kyoshiro straightened him up and covered him with a blanket. It was the largest hotel room he’d been in; it was larger than most apartments. He looked in the refrigerator and pulled out a beer before he went to a desk and wrote a note for Hiro, “It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you around, Hiroshi. — Narita Kyoshiro.”
         He set a bottle of aspirin beside the note and left.
         The next morning Hiro woke up with a killer hangover and walked around the suite. He noticed the aspirin and read the note. He snorted, “That bastard.”


***more to come once I get it written***

***Update 6/26/06:
Wow, this thing really is shit, here's yet another one to add to my pile of unfinished stories. - KS