Amazing Grace: Yaoi Novel Read online

  Content

  Chapter 0

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 0

  It's all a lie. I see no light. It's a deception.

  If God really does exist, why am I going through this?

  My life has no meaning.

  So why didn't I end it and get it over with?

  I had more than enough chances to.

  It's easy to guess why I didn't.

  I was afraid of dying.

  If I died, everything would disappear. It would become nothing.

  That's why he told me to believe in God.

  Because we wouldn't have to be afraid as long as we believed that we were going to see God when we died.

  But those are just pretty words. That guy gets on my nerves. He acts like he knows everything, even though he doesn't. And he says stupid things, like that he loves me.

  I figured he was probably just looking for sex. I told him he could fuck me whenever he wanted. When I told him that, he held me close, and told me again that he loved me. He would love me in God's place, he said.

  I hate him.

  But whenever I hear that song being played on the church organ, the back of my eyes start to sting.

  Amazing grace how sweet the sound

  That saved a wretch like me.

  I once was lost but now am found,

  Was blind but now I see.

  Chapter 1

  "What's wrong? What are you thinking about?"

  Masatake Kuji responded to the question by shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the towering man on top of him. His angular jaw had a rugged sprinkling of stubble; the bridge of his nose was thick and bent, and beast-like eyes glittered from within deep sockets. Ruining his whole look was the head of tightly-permed hair that adorned his head like a cute cloud. Kuji always came close to laughing at the sight.

  "Not much."

  "Whatever."

  The man deftly switched positions as he began thrusting into him from behind. The walls were thin in this cheap hotel in the outskirts of town. From the room next door, they could hear muffled moans and the sounds of a bed creaking.

  Kuji pressed his face against the sheets and suppressed his voice. The man's hand reached for his groin and began to rub his half-flaccid penis.

  "You're high maintenance, you know that?"

  "Why don't you just go ahead and come, Nango?"

  "Won't do," said Nango as he pumped harder. "I like that squeeze I get when you come."

  "Pervert."

  "I wouldn't be here doing this if I wasn't." The man's thick fingers rubbed the tip of his penis. It felt good even through a condom, as long as he was rubbed strongly enough.

  "Nh...!" Kuji made a noise in his throat. It came out of his mouth as a pitiful-sounding squeak. Kuji was still throbbing from his climax, but the man gave him no time to recover as he continued to thrust ruthlessly in and out of him.

  "You sound like a rabbit getting strangled," Nango mocked as he continued his piston-like motion.

  "You've - strangled - a rabbit before?" Kuji asked, his breath coming out in gasps.

  "Nope. I'm not that cruel. The only things that need strangling are pieces of shit like you."

  Kuji came close to retorting, "So strangling a rabbit is cruel but strangling a person isn't?" But in the end, he decided against it. He knew that if he did, the man would only make him suffer more. Nango always engaged in the act as a form of punishment toward Kuji; he knew how much Kuji hated it.

  Kuji felt his hips being pushed up higher. His chest, in turn, touched the sheets. He felt the tip of the man's shaft reach deep within him, and his own wilted penis took new life again. The condom, which had begun to come off, stuck again to his swollen member.

  "There we go, that's the spirit. You're always better the second time around. Make me feel good, and I'll cut you some slack."

  Depending on Nango's mood that day, Kuji ended up so sapped of energy that his vision swam yellow. Kuji focused his concentration on the pleasure, and flexed his anus along with the shaft moving inside of him.

  Almost... there.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, and a blinding light flared behind his eyelids. Kuji thought it looked a lot like the light that streamed in through the stained-glass windows.

  He saw a human figure standing in the middle of the light.

  Nango peeled off his condom and tossed it in the trash. He turned around to look at Kuji.

  "How about this guy?"

  Kuji was stretched out on the bed as he looked at the photos on a cell phone screen. Kuji and Nango met once a week in this gays-only hotel in the Shinjuku Nichome district. After they had sex, Nango would listen to what Kuji had to report to him. Right now, Kuji was being shown several mugshots.

  "Never seen him," Kuji said, shaking his head, and threw the cell phone aside. Nango, who had been sitting naked at the table with a smoke, stretched his arm and caught the phone just in time.

  "You idiot," he said angrily. Once he caught the phone, Nango gathered his scattered clothes from the floor and began briskly putting them on.

  "Show me your phone," he said.

  "It's in the pocket of my pants. Look for yourself."

  Kuji had been told to photograph anyone that visited the church. Nango used his foot to tug at Kuji's pants on the floor. He rifled through the pockets while keeping his eyes on Kuji, who was still lying on the bed.

  "Wow, Nango," he said sarcastically. "Are all of you Public Safety people uptight like that?"

  "You let your guard down for a split second, and it could cost you your life. You should be careful, too. If someone finds out that you're an S for us, you'll be tortured and killed."

  Kuji was aware of that. But he continued to do this job, anyway. To live? No - perhaps it was to die, because he could not do so on his own. But he did not mention that.

  "By whom?" he asked instead. "You think that priest would kill someone? This isn't like the cult I infiltrated last time. It's a proper Catholic church."

  This time, it was Nango who did not answer. He removed the chip from the cell phone and inserted a new one. For a moment, his hard eyes softened, and harbored a strange glow.

  "Masatake, we couldn't ask for a better S. We don't want to lose you."

  "You mean lose the free sex, right?"

  "That, too," Nango said, laughing. "The thing about you is that you don't have a presence. You blend right in, no matter where you go, and you don't linger in people's memories. You look like an average Joe, and that makes it easier for people to let their guard down. Your face is average, and you look effeminate enough not to provoke aggressive instincts in people. You're - how would I say it - an invisible man. Plus, you've got a good attitude. A lot of S's try too hard to impress us, and take things too far. That's when they end up blowing their cover."

  Kuji felt no particular pride or accomplishment at being complimented for being a good S. A gopher for the police - a spy. The undercover term for it was S. But being told that he was an ideal spy wasn't exactly pleasant news to hear.

  "Which means what? I'd win if I entered a pageant for spies?" Kuji said sarcastically as he sat up and crossed his legs. He stuck his index and middle finger together in a gesture, asking for a cigarette. Nango threw a box of Marlboros at him and stood up from his chair.

  He walked up to Kuji, hooked a finger under his chin, and made him look up.

  "Where is the subject going tomorrow?"

  "Shinjuku Central Park. Going to a soup kitchen for the homeless."
r />   "Emmaus?"

  Kuji nodded.

  Emmaus was an international support organization for the homeless and low-income earners. Song seemed to be working actively together with this group to support the homeless. He worked not only with Emmaus but with other non-profit organizations, as well.

  "I want you to stay close to the subject, you hear?" Nango's fingers slid down to Kuji's slender throat and stopped over his thyroid cartilage. He leaned in as Kuji looked up at him.

  "Your eyes are a strange color. But you look like any other guy as long as you keep your eyes down." His fingers clenched harder around his throat, and Kuji burst into a coughing fit.

  "Don't give the subject any sympathy. I know exactly what's going on in your head."

  Kuji's breath whistled through his constricted throat. The man's set of fingers eventually let go of him.

  Nango approached the door, paying heed to any presence outside. A set of footsteps passed.

  "See you next week." With that, Nango slipped through the narrow gap of the half-open door. Kuji settled back into his seat on the bed and took his time smoking his cigarette. He was supposed to let some time pass before leaving the hotel after Nango.

  Halfway through his second cigarette, Kuji began to hear a strange sound coming from the back of his throat. It was the same, strained voice he made when Nango had pressed down on his thyroid cartilage. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was crying.

  Yes, when this heart and flesh shall fail,

  And mortal life shall cease,

  I shall possess within the veil

  A life of joy and peace.

  That day would never come - because I'm an S.

  Kuji thought of the man whom he envisioned whenever he climaxed. Song Jin-Il - his surveillance subject.

  Chapter 2

  Anapana Sati. It apparently meant "mindful breathing."

  Nango's first assignment for him was to infiltrate a cult called Anapana Sati. It all happened one night, three years ago.

  "Take one down."

  That was what he was told that night, as Kuji and another lowly gopher were handed Makarovs.

  Just the day before, one of the top brass in the Black Dragon Society had been shot by a member of the Ai Lan Company gang. The man had dropped by the entertainment district to collect protection money from the businesses in his territory. He had been sitting in his Toyota Celsior, counting bills, when he had been shot by a drive-by motorcycle.

  A few hours later, bullets were fired into a number of Ai Lan Company offices. But a spat between gangs often did not end there. An eye for an eye - the books were balanced in blood. Those were the rules in gang society.

  "I don't care who you take. Masa, you'd probably only get four years at best. Serve your time."

  When you were told that in a gang, you had no choice but to go.

  Kuji and the other gopher had been waiting to spring an ambush when they had been taken aside for routine questioning by a patrolling police officer. As a result, they were hauled in for violating the Sword and Firearms Control Law.

  Kuji was taken to a separate police station. There, he was told to become an S. He was also told that he had no choice.

  "An S? And what sort of information do you think I'd be able to glean about the Black Dragon Society?" Kuji had asked in the interrogation room. The Organized Crime detective had burst into laughter.

  "We already know exactly what goes on inside those gangs. We don't need to hire an S to check things out. We scratch each other's backs. You should know this - you're one of them."

  The detective was right. Kuji frequently heard from the second-in-command if there was a planned raid that night - of course, through an insider's tip. The police were satisfied as long as they could make a decent catch of criminals, and they backed off once they did.

  And every time, the gang handed over a few guns. That was how they maintained their give-and-take relationship with those in Organized Crime.

  "Public Safety wants you," the detective had told him. "No one knows what they're up to. They told us to give them someone, anyone - that they could use as an S. That was all we were told."

  "What happens if I refuse?"

  "Ask them," the Organized Crime detective had replied, saying nothing more.

  Kuji was then taken to the Tokyo Detention Center, where he met Nango for the first time.

  "Masatake Kuji," the man had begun. "Put into a juvenile detention center when you stabbed your father at age seventeen. Spent three years there. After getting out on parole, you were invited by a friend from prison and joined the Black Dragon Society."

  Nango's research was surprisingly accurate. Even the smallest details of his time in juvenile were written in that report.

  "What if I say no?"

  "No one in this country stands a chance if they try to rebel against the state. I can get you hauled in for any crime. Violation of the Sword and Firearms Control Law. Obstruction of justice. Violent assault. Violation of the Road Traffic Law. Et cetera, et cetera. If the prosecutor's office files charges, there's a 90% chance that you'll be found guilty. Feel like going to prison again?"

  "I'm not afraid of prison."

  But Kuji still remembered the unmentionably heinous abuse and humiliation he had endured at the juvenile detention center.

  "You know easily the prosecution's demand for a sentence can change," Nango continued. "The nation can keep you in jail for as long as they like. And a word from me will have you sent into the worst cell out of them. The warden, the inmates - they'll all do what I say and torture you. You also won't get any parole. Oh, and that's not it," he continued.

  "Your mother is remarried, correct? Your younger sister and brother are with her. Your little brother is in twelfth grade. He's looking for somewhere to work after he graduates. Your little sister has a boyfriend. What do you think is gonna happen when they find out their big brother is in prison serving time because he's in a gang?"

  Kuji suddenly understood. It hadn't started that night, after all; it had started the moment he had been born, and all this time he had paved the path that led him here.

  Shiro Nango belonged to the second division of the Public Safety Foreign Affairs department, or the Sotoni for short.

  "What's sotoni?"

  That had been Kuji's first and final question.

  "Short form for Foreign Affairs Second Division," Nango had said. "We deal with Russia and Asia; let's just put it that way. You should be proud, you hear? You're doing good for your homeland."

  You must be fucking with me. A country like this deserves to wither and die, Kuji thought, but of course, he did not say so out loud.

  * * *

  Kuji continued to walk through the late-night streets of Roppongi.

  The roads were overflowing with people. It seemed particularly so once the winter bonuses had been paid out. It seemed even more crowded than in the daytime. Like Shinjuku, this town did not sleep.

  Kuji turned at the intersection toward Iikura. The Tokyo Tower, lit up bright red, steadily loomed closer. He turned off the main road into a residential neighborhood, and walked past a luxury condominium to enter the grounds of an antiquated Western-style mansion. It was like any regular residence, save for the small cross nailed to the gatepost. The main entrance was left open twenty-four hours a day; however, Kuji went around to the back of the house. The back door led straight into a small kitchen. Kuji pulled off his leather jumper in the dark.

  He turned the faucet, brought his lips to it, and drank until his stomach began to rumble in protest. He squatted on the kitchen floor and furtively sneaked his hand down the front of his pants.

  "Damn it... damn it..." he cursed to himself.

  Kuji was given a surprisingly light sentence for violating the Sword and Firearms Control Law. He would only spend one year and three months in actual incarceration, and during that period, he was given astonishingly preferential treatment. For the first three months, he was assigned to be
the laundry boy, who collected the dirty clothes of all of the inmates and distributed them back after they had been laundered. Next, he was assigned to take care of the mail - in charge, again, of collecting them from inmates. Next, he was a proofreader for a printing factory. He experienced no harassment from the wardens, nor any rape from inmates, as he had experienced in juvenile.

  It was clear that Nango had pulled some strings. But this also meant that if he retaliated, Kuji could easily be taken out of his cushy environment and thrown into the pits of hell.

  When Kuji was let out on parole, the probation officer who came to pick him up was a middleman between him and Public Safety.

  Arrangements had already been made with the Black Dragon Society and Ai Lan Company for Kuji. No one would be suspicious if a throwaway pawn like him didn't return. And by inserting the probation officer between Kuji and Public Safety, it made things harder for both gangs to get in touch with him.

  In other words, Kuji had been submerged into the underground world - into a darkness deeper than that of yakuza society.

  The probation officer took Kuji to a facility, where he stayed for six months receiving training to become a spy. That was where he was also routinely raped by Nango.

  "You're my S, and I'll make sure your body knows that. I'll drive it into your every cell so that you can never say no to me."

  Sex with other males in prison was already enough to make Kuji nauseous; not only did Nango engage in it, he also taught Kuji what pleasure was for the first time.

  In the beginning, he was drugged. Eventually, though, he began to ejaculate solely from being stimulated anally.

  It was a hellish pleasure. Kuji felt humiliated every time he was brought to climax without a choice. He had only been able to bear sex in prison by steeling himself against the pain. It was better if it was painful - because pain would eventually end. If he lost consciousness from the pain, it was over even quicker. And if he didn't pass out, it was proof that it wasn't painful enough.