Chapter 3: Unexpected
A string of quiet curses. The words, so coarse, sounded almost elegant coming from the stranger's voice. Takumi was unaccountably amused.
Wait. Not a stranger. He knew that face.
He just couldn't remember who it was in his drunken and drugged state.
He felt his body hauled up and thrown onto a bed. Not gently but not carelessly either.
A part of him gave up. Was he going to be raped? Should he have expected this day to come anyway, after all that he has seen?
Another part, stronger, was furious. NO. He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't utter a word. He couldn't defend himself. But he was going to murder the bastard the second he could.
Then some portion of him, buried and deep, nearly swallowed him in fear and panic. Was he shaking? He might be.
Someone was stripping him. Takumi choked. He didn't ask for this. He didn't want this. He hadn't done anything to encourage it.
Wait, he did go to the club. Stupid. Foolish. Reckless.
The helpless feeling, familiar and yet so distant, was threatening to drown him.
"Don't panic. I won't hurt you," the quiet voice said. "I need to change your clothes. You're a mess."
He wouldn't believe him. But he couldn't do much at the moment. All he could do was hope that by some miracle, this stranger was a good Samaritan.
Not that he needed to think about it much longer. The fog in his brain grew darker, heavier and with a shudder, Takumi's world turned into darkness.
xxxxxxx
His head hurt. His throat felt dry. His eyes burned when he tried to open them to the sunlight seeping in through the window blinds.
Then his heart stopped.
What happened?
Takumi jerked up and felt his chest pounding. The onset of panic. Within minutes, he wouldn't be able to function. He looked around blindly and then at himself.
A tiny relief overcame him. His body was intact. He didn't feel any injuries. In fact, he was dressed in an old T-shirt and sweatpants. His own underwear still on.
The flat was tiny. Shabby but neat. A single bed and a small low table next to it. A cupboard and a bookshelf took up one of the walls. An open kitchenette and another door which probably led to the showers.
He swung out of the bed gingerly, stood up and was almost surprised that he didn't topple over.
The door opened and someone stepped in.
Their eyes met. Takumi blinked.
"Good. You're awake," the other person commented. He was carrying a plastic bag and began emptying the contents on the table. He took a bottle of water, uncapped it and walked over to Takumi.
"Drink up."
An order if he ever heard one. Takumi took the bottled water and a few gulps. His thirst soothed.
"You should eat something. Bread or instant noodles?"
"Bread," Takumi croaked.
A hand extended a red bean bun from the convenience store. Takumi took it silently, opened the plastic cover and began munching. He sat down on the floor beside the bed.
The sugar helped. As he was halfway through the bun, his head cleared slightly.
He snuck a glance at the man who sat next to the table, drinking a can of coffee and checking his phone. Takumi noticed his own phone and wallet on the table.
"Thanks. For everything," he began hesitantly. Somehow his chest had inexplicably calmed.
Then those eyes fell on him.
They must be the calmest, steadiest pair of eyes he had ever seen. Almost cool. They also belonged to a face which was almost inscrutable.
"You're welcome," a deep, quiet voice spoke. The same voice from last night.
Takumi finished the bun and took another swallow of water.
Another sudden thought hit him. What if pictures had been taken? What if a blackmail was coming? This familiar stranger had seen him almost naked.
He might be sick.
He cleared his voice and began carefully, "Why did you bring me back? Not that I'm not grateful."
"You would've gotten into trouble otherwise. You must have been drugged."
Factual. Even.
"I..I see," Takumi managed. He still couldn't quite believe his luck. "My clothes. Ah.."
Understanding reached the stranger's expression. He set his phone down and told Takumi, "In a bag by the door. You probably need to throw them away. No, I didn't take any photos. I only changed your clothes. I am not interested in you or anything else."
Bizarre. This entire conversation struck Takumi like a lightning. He never had ANYONE claiming indifference to him. All his life, it was the exact opposite.
"Thank you. I didn't mean to insult you, after all you've done," he said quickly. He was probably stupid to believe him. But he wanted to. He was not sure why.
"None taken. It's only rational for you to ask."
"What's your name?" Takumi also suddenly wanted to know.
"Hasegawa Akira."
"I'm Matsumoto Takumi," he replied tentatively.
"I know," Hasegawa commented dryly. "You've been causing disruptions on campus."
Campus?
A stark picture flashed across Takumi's mind.
Hasegawa. No wonder he seemed almost familiar. He was in the same university. The only time they crossed paths was when Takumi watched him in action at the archery club and overheard someone mentioning his name.
"That's Hasegawa. Quiet bastard. Don't know what some chicks see in him."
"Don't fuck with him. He can kick your ass."
He had admired the focus and form. He had watched as Hasegawa stilled and let go of the string. Within seconds, a perfect shot. Yet all Hasegawa did was a small nod to himself. Takumi had recalled being momentarily transfixed before a call from his agent broke the moment.
"My agency thought it's a good idea to attend," Takumi said and was annoyed with himself. He didn't owe Hasegawa any explanation.
A nod followed by, "Do you want the address? So that someone can pick you up?"
Realizing that he was being politely asked to leave, Takumi couldn't help erupting into laughter.
Hasegawa frowned slightly but remained silent.
"It's not you," Takumi clarified. How was he going to explain? That he was usually asked to stay beyond what was appropriate? Or that the usual approach would be to get him inside an apartment and not out of it?
"But yes, the address please," he added. "Actually, why don't you send me a message? What's your number?"
It was an awkward ploy to get Hasegawa's number but if that was noticed, Hasegawa did not comment. He dictated the number and Takumi keyed it into his phone.
He sent a message to Hasegawa immediately, who replied with the address.
There were not many messages on his phone because Takumi kept his contact list short. There were however a dozen calls from his agent. He forwarded Hasegawa's address to the older man.
"Ah...please keep my number to yourself," Takumi was obliged to request.
He was fully aware that his current actions were reckless too. Maybe traces of the drugs were still wrecking his system.
He didn't know this man. He only knew that he wanted to maintain a connection.
How odd. What connection? What was the slight nervousness in his stomach which felt good?
"I can delete it if you prefer," Hasegawa offered.
Takumi shook his head and smiled. "I'll just change my number if you do something with it. No big deal."
"True."
Takumi's phone rang again. He picked it up.
"What are you doing there?" a harsh voice demanded. His agent, Ogita. "What the hell were you doing at the club?"
"Just pick me up. I'll explain."
"Fine. Ten minutes."
"My agent's ten minutes away," he told Hasegawa after he hung up.
"Okay."
"I'll return your clothes," Takumi said.
"No need."
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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