The Gentleman's Club, part I

This is a plot that has been in my head for a long time, and I put it to paper using my favourite band, BUCK-TICK, as the inspiration. You do not have to know who they are or even much about Japan to enjoy this story, however. Continue on!



Although the night was icy cold, I was surprisingly warm in my coat. This was probably due to the fact that there were hundreds of girls pressed in on all sides of me, jumping and shrieking and keeping me warm with their collective body heat.

Jessie, my best friend who was standing by my side as we slowly made our way out of the theatre, was positively bouncing up and down on her heels with excitement. There was a sparkling to her eyes that hadn’t been there the entire time we had been in Japan, and I knew that this had probably been the best night of her life thus far. Her enthusiasm made me smile and I nudged her gently in the ribs.

“So did you see Gackt smile at you and wave his fingers after that one song? I would assume you did as at that very moment you shrieked so loudly my eardrums are still ringing and tried to fling yourself onto the stage…”

At that moment she embraced me, pinning my arms to my sides. Her bleach-blonde hair flung into my face and I could faintly detect the lavender perfume she had splashed on before the night began. I laughed and placed my frozen hands on her waist, patting her tenderly. She turned her face to mine and I could see how her makeup had smeared from all of her sweat, and I knew that she didn’t even remotely care about her looks just then.

“Thank you so much for coming with me, Amy! This has been so… so… Ah, I can’t even find the words! You know how much I love Gackt, thank you so, so much for coming, I don’t think I could have gone through the night while being alone.”

My grin was sincere, and she let go of me and held my hand in hers, squeezing it as if she was afraid one of the other girls in the crowd would try to steal such a good friend from her.

She had reason to be grateful. It’s not that I hated Gackt; in fact I quite liked a lot of his music. I just could not for the life of me understand why Jessie- and so many other girls- would chop off their right arm for the chance to have a smile flashed in their direction. He was talented, but wholly undeserving of the attention, in my honest opinion. Now if there was a man who had a right to be treated with such reverence…

My smile wilted a bit. Of all of the times Jessie could have come for our long-sought after trip to Japan, my favorite band of the last five years was not on tour for another two months. That was why she was so grateful to me for coming with her to the concert: Not only did I not particularly care to see Gackt, but I would not be able to see Buck-Tick while we were there.

The crowd suddenly roared as if the sky itself were falling. I glanced up, curious as to why there was a surge of excitement, and groaned inwardly. Up ahead I could see over the tops of bobbing black heads the Magnum himself striding leisurely towards a waiting car. He waved to us with the air of Zeus acknowledging the mortals who flung themselves upon him with relish. I rolled my eyes and tightened my coat around me. Beside me, Jessie was jumping up and down with the rest of the crowd, shrieking his name.

When finally the car had driven away and the insanity had died down, she turned to smile at me. She had completely forgotten why I was so upset, and seemed to be talking more to herself than to me.

“Did you see what he was wearing? He was wearing sunglasses, and it’s night time! Oh but he’s so hot, do you think he saw me? We’re close enough to the front and we’re white, he might have seen us…”

I had learned to tune her out over time. She wasn’t usually like this, but on occasion she could be as annoying as the most emotional fan girl. I let her rant, nodding and grunting at the required moments. My thoughts were pre-occupied as she wondered what happened to Gackt’s used towels and if she could possibly manage to get her hands on one.

The notion that I was standing in Japan with my own two feet weighed heavily on my mind. For too long I had dreamt of this very moment; even though it was Gackt’s concert I had just seen, it was still a concert in Japan. That was a big deal to me. Or, I thought it would have been. Instead I just felt fake, drowning in a sea of the native Japanese girls who had wanted to marry him since they were in diapers.

Vaguely I wondered what my band was doing at that moment. Just knowing that I was in the same country as them, breathing the same air, gave me a thrill. Atsushi’s face flashed before my eyes. He was probably drinking, or having sex. Or both.

Jessie was tugging at my hand. My eyes drifted slowly towards her, unwillingly focusing on her face instead of the image of Atsushi’s face contorted in pleasure, his whole body moving rhythmically…

It seemed that while I had been daydreaming the crowd had finally thinned out. We were standing on the street outside of the theatre. When had my feet moved? I hadn’t even noticed.

“Come on Amy, we have to get to the hostel before it gets too late. I don’t really want to get lost… What is up with you, why are you so distracted?”

She snapped her fingers in my face. I jerked and stared at her reproachfully.

“What? I’m listening, we have to get back to the hostel. What’s the big hurry anyway? I feel like having a drink.”

It was Jessie’s turn to narrow her eyes.

“You’re underage.”

“Not here I’m not. I’m twenty, I can buy a drink if I want.”

“Amy what is wrong with you? You never drink, and you don’t like it when other people do. Is this about Buck-Tick? Look, I’m sorry they aren’t performing but there is always next time, right? I’m sure we’ll be back again.”

Her face was still glowing with pleasure, and it struck me how insincere her words were. She truly did not care about how upset I was, all she could think about was her own joy. And she didn’t want to lose the person who would sit there in the hostel with her, allowing her to rant about Gackt all night long.

I pulled my hand from her grasp and took a step away.

“You go ahead to the hostel, I’ll catch up later. I want a drink.”

By the expression on her face, someone walking by might have thought I’d slapped her.

“Amy, no! What is going on with you? Let’s just go back to the hostel, you don’t want to go to a bar and let some Japanese man take advantage of you or something. Amy, no, come back here!”

My back was already turned to her and I was walking aimlessly down the sidewalk. With one last wave of the hand over my shoulder, I left my sole companion in this foreign land behind me.




It wasn’t that bad, to be honest. In fact it was oddly freeing to walk alone down the streets of Tokyo, wondering when the snowflakes were finally going to fall. The coat I wore was not meant for long excursions in the December weather, and my teeth were beginning to chatter as I stared with wide eyes at the many skyscrapers. People were pressed in around me, even though it was nearly eleven at night. I stuck out like a sore thumb, what with having golden hair and blue eyes, but no one really took much notice of it. I was lost in a sea of nameless people, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

Eventually I found myself in front of a bar. Or, at least I thought that's what it was. Reading kanji wasn’t quite my forte and I thought it said something about a club, but there were pictures of alcohol on the window so it at least served what I wanted. As I stepped inside, a wave of smoke overwhelmed me and I choked, gasping for air. Most of the patrons inside were middle-aged men and some turned to stare at me as I sputtered for air. I pretended not to notice and took a seat at the bar, smiling warmly at the bartender.

My Japanese was very basic, but he seemed to understand me well enough. He checked my ID and passed me a shot of something that was very dark in color. I sniffed the glass and nearly went cross-eyed from the fumes. If I wanted to get drunk, this was probably the sort of thing that would get me there.

In a quick rush I tilted the glass up and drained it all. The fluid was like searing flames rolling down my throat, and instantly heat spread throughout my face and chest. It was invigorating and I couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. My first time drinking alcohol and I was alone in a Japanese bar, with older men staring at me like I was some strange, drunken gaijin. I smirked and firmly set the shot glass back on the counter. The bartender’s eyes had never left me and, when I smiled encouragingly at him, he scowled and gave me another shot. It was obvious that he did not get many young, foreign women in his bar.

After awhile the various conversations picked up again all around me, and I felt more at ease. When I had downed the second shot, a man a few seats down spoke with a near-perfect accent in English.

“Having troubles?”

I didn’t look at him. Common sense told me not to trust anyone I found in bars; or, that’s what my mom always used to tell me, anyway. He spoke again.

“What’s your name?”

Knowing that he wasn’t going to let up, I glanced up at his face. This was no easy task, either, considering that everything in the room was starting to blur. I debated on whether or not revealing a given name would put me in danger. I decided not.

“Amy.”

“Amy, that’s a pretty name. Not from Japan, are you?”

“No… I’m American.”

“America, I’ve never been there. I hear it’s nice.”

The contents of my shot glass were empty and I stared into the bottom of it for awhile. Never before would I have thought that I would be sitting in a Japanese bar, getting drunk on God-knows-what and having some older man hit on me with small talk about America. But then again, I had always considered Japan the homeland I’d never felt I had. Which was turning out to prove more and more false with each day I stayed. I was gawked at wherever I went, and no one wanted to talk to me other than fellow foreigners. This could have been because Jessie always dressed up as if it were Cosplay Day everyday of the year, but it didn’t make me feel much better.

“So why are you so down?”

I snorted.

“Why do you care?”

His face hardened for a moment but then slackened once more. He grinned sheepishly, taking a swig from his own glass.

“I haven’t met many foreigners before. I was just curious as to why you would be so upset when so many of you have such high hopes for coming to this wasteland of a country.”

My jaw went slack. Not only had he outright called me a foreigner, but he had gone so far as to mock the very reason he doubtless knew was my cause for being so upset. Anger boiled in the pit of my stomach and I jumped off of my seat, marched over to him, and yanked the glass from his lips. I drained it. Whatever it was, it was potent as hell because the moment it was down my throat I had to grip the table for balance. I glared at him, though I could not quite distinguish his eyes.

“I’ll have you know that I don’t think this is a wasteland of a country. If more of you non-foreigners were kinder to those of us who come here then maybe life would be better for all of us. In my country everyone is different and we’re okay with that. Here, if you don’t have black hair and tanned skin then you are marked as some anime-obsessed gaijin. Well I don’t need it. And I don’t need Gackt, either!”

My voice had been raised so loudly that everyone in the bar had turned to stare at me. There was a long pause after my rant ended before all other than myself burst into laughter. The man I had spoken to actually slapped his thigh in glee.

“Oh I see now. You’re just peachy being here, but Gackt didn’t choose you as his groupie. That must be tough, I’m sure.”

Whether it was the alcohol, the pent-up frustration, or a mixture of the two, I am not sure. While everyone’s laughter had yet to die down I reached over and slapped him hard across the face. Tears streamed down my cheeks and his hand went to his own in shock. He stared at me with wide, brown eyes.

“I’d like to see you try to make some strange place your home and then, when you blow everything you have just to come over for a few weeks, meet nothing but disappointment and mockery at every turn.”

I turned to go, but a hand reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Let go of me.”

“No. Sit down.”

His voice was dark, as if I’d hit some nerve of his. Not even feeling the desire to argue, I sat down as he instructed but kept my eyes focused on the door.

The silence lengthened. Realizing that I was not going to elaborate, he brought it up himself.

“So why are you really upset, if it’s not because Gackt shunned your advances?”

I glowered at him and crossed my arms. He chortled.

“Are you alone here?”

Even though I was drunk, my instincts told me to lie.

“No. My boyfriend is with me.”

“Liar.”

I turned and stared at him. He was older, perhaps in his thirties, and very well-dressed. So much so that he stood out even more than I did in the bar, considering the rest of the customers all seemed to be working class. I noticed that they were still staring at us. His eyes were dark and his long hair was gelled back so rigidly it seemed to be made of plastic. A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“What does it matter?”

“I just really want to know why you are so upset.”

“Are you really not going to let up?”

“Nope.”

Sighing, I finally relayed with as few details as possible my story. Having saved up for nearly two years to afford coming over here, but because Jessie was my only possible companion she insisted on coming when Gackt was performing or not going at all. So I was not able to see my own favorite band, Buck-Tick. I mentioned that she was not as good a friend to me as I had thought she was, and how I was basically alone in the country.

What started out as a brief summary quickly led into the outpouring of my heart into this stranger. He listened intently to everything I said, and did not interrupt me as I ranted about how my family was ashamed of me because they thought I was “strange” and how I had run away from home on multiple occasions. I told him how I had never been able to keep a boyfriend because I could not be intimate with a man without intense fear taking over. Then finally, in one last emotional gush, I spilled out that the only man I had ever truly wanted was not only famous, but that I would never even get to see him in person, thanks to Jessie.

“Atsushi Sakurai?”

The words were not mocking, as I would have thought them to be. He spoke with true interest, and there seemed to be no ridicule at all in his tone. My eyes remained on my lap, and I nodded slightly.

“Why?”

The fabric of my skirt suddenly became very interesting and I picked at it without thinking. I did not like to talk about this sort of thing even to those closest to me, let alone to a complete stranger. But something about this man compelled me to spill everything to him, and so I did.

“I… I don’t know. It’s beyond simple attraction. He seems to epitomize everything that I could want in a man. He is sexy but a gentleman; he can make my heart pound and yet he is so shy that I just want to reach out and hold him to me. I just,” I shook my head, hating myself for sounding so pathetic and yet unable to stop myself. “I would give anything to meet him. To say hello and thank him and…”

“Sleep with him?”

His voice was smug now. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, realizing even through the haze in my brain that I had confessed way too much to a man who’s name I didn’t even know. I stood up to leave.

“I have to go.”

“Wait. Don’t go.”

“Why not? My friend will be worried about me, I need to let her know I’m alright.”

“Because you are drunk, Miss Amy. If you step outside of these walls anything could happen to you.”

There was derision in his voice now, and I bristled at the intent behind the words.

“I’ll get a taxi.”

“What if I told you there was a way to grant you your wish?”

The question caught me completely off-guard.

“If…what?”

“If there was a way to grant your wish. Would you take it?”

My eyes crossed a bit and I forced myself to focus on his. I searched them for any sign of deceit or malice, but found only amusement. So I decided that it was safe to answer.

“Yes, I would.”

“You would do anything to get this wish of yours?”

Impatience flared in me.

“Yes, I would. Now I have to go.”

But as I turned to leave, the occupants of the bar had risen from their seats. Many of them blocked the exit. Stunned, I turned to stare at the man at the table. His face was alight with anticipation.

“You certainly picked the right bar to get drunk in tonight, Miss Amy. Welcome to The Gentleman‘s Club.”

And without any notice, a man was behind me and gripping me tightly to his body. A slightly damp cloth covered my nose and mouth and I struggled in his grasp, fighting to get away, but the harsh scent of something that reminded me vaguely of a doctor’s office filled my nostrils. It overpowered me and I felt myself slowly fading into blackness, and then all was quiet.