Ikuo also said to Kizu, and not as mere flattery, "They say when artists create they get younger-and in your case it's true!"
4
It was a dark day, as dark as if the sun had already set, the wind gusting out of the north. The hygiene cure, a dated term that made him wince-his sunbathing, in other words-which Kizu had continued entirely on his own since the middle of July, was out of the question on a day like this. The glass door was cold against his forehead as he gazed at the shadowy leaves of the wych elm rustling in the wind. The leaves were dry and dull, their under- sides, exposed when the wind curled them up, even more dry and whitish.
Until now, the only yellowish leaves he'd seen were those on branches bro- ken by the wind or by squirrels, but now there were clumps of lemon-colored leaves on several more recessed branches. Kizu spent the morning, till past noon, in a state of agitation. Ikuo was supposed to come in the morning, but he didn't show up. Two weeks before, on a Monday, he'd called and said he couldn't model that day. Thursday came, and again he didn't show up, this time not even phoning. The same thing happened both days the following week. On this particular day Kizu phoned the athletic club and was told that Ikuo wasn't out sick, in fact was at that very moment teaching an adult class.
Kizu said to tell Ikuo he'd called.
Finally, on a sunny Thursday morning, Ikuo appeared at his door, with- out giving any explanation for having taken two and a half weeks off. His reticence wasn't the result of some self-centered insecurity, but a willful de- cision to keep what he wanted to say within him, a stance that made Kizu all the more concerned. To top this off, something about Ikuo's nude body seemed unfamiliar. As artists are wont to do, Kizu looked at him intently as if he were listening to some strange sound. In contrast to his attitude when he came into the apartment, Ikuo was now quick to react. With the luxuriant foliage of the wych elm behind his right shoulder as he posed, the strong sun- light, which they hadn't seen in a while, above him, Ikuo kneaded the tight skin around his washboard abdomen.
"These past two weeks I've been training like crazy," he said. "Coach- ing recreational swimmers doesn't keep me in shape. My stomach's gotten pretty buff, but I'm worried the lines won't be the same as the last time I modeled."
"That's not a problem," Kizu replied. "Right now I'm concentrating on the swell of the shoulders. Your whole body does look quite toned."
Still seeming concerned, Ikuo kneaded the flesh of his abdomen, pull- ing it toward his navel. The movement pulled his soft but heavy penis away from his thick pubic hair and over toward his thigh.
Feeling Kizu's gaze, Ikuo fidgeted the muscles of his buttocks and tried, without success, to hide his genitals in the shadow of his thick thigh. Soon his penis started curving to the right, pointing toward the wych elm outside the glass door as it swelled to life. This was different from Kizu's recent erec- tions, reminding him of the uncontrollable, autonomous erections of his younger days.
Finally, Ikuo relaxed his pose and covered his penis with both hands, decisively turning a stern but blushing face to Kizu and looking straight at him for the first time that day.
"Actually, there's something I need to talk with you about," Ikuo said, and thinking about it got all these personal emotions welling up. And now look what's happened. You'll have to pardon my confusion. Calling h per- sonal emotions might sound a little strange, but you've taught me so many things. Sometimes I can't believe how kind you've been to me. These past few months I've felt less lonely than I have for years. I know it'll seem ungrateful, but I've given it a lot of thought and I've decided to quit my job in Tokyo.
When we first met in the pool drying room I was already thinking of doing this. I've worked there a full two years already. Fortunately, that allowed me to meet you, to get this modeling job, and to be able to study with you. I'm thankful, but if I just continue as a swimming coach, I'm never going to be able to solve any of the problems I'm facing-problems connected with what we were talking about last time, about being a free person.
"So the past two weeks I've been training like crazy and doing some thinking, and I came to the conclusion that I've got to leave. Yesterday I sub- mitted my resignation to the athletic club. Since I didn't give them two weeks' notice I won't be getting any severance pay, though."
Kizu felt as if the cells of his body were being surrounded by an over- whelming force of invaders, and he was choked by a visceral sense of grief.
At the same time he was convinced that this is how people are abandoned.
Now that he'd reached his fifties, he wondered, confused, was this all life had in store for him?
"Well," he said, "you're an independent spirit. I never imagined you'd be a swimming instructor for the rest of your life, let alone an artist's model.
Wanting to set off for somewhere is perfectly natural. Though it does make me wistful, I guess you'd say, or regretful."
As he said this, Kizu heard ill will mixed in with the sound of his pump- ing blood. Ikuo turned fervent eyes toward him, and with one totally unex- pected question, laid bare all of Kizu's recent fantasies.
"Professor, are you gay? Sometimes I've wondered whether you've been kind to me just to try to have a relationship with me, and whether the whole thing might not end with me having to beat the crap out of you. But I don't have those hostile feelings anymore, and, since this is the last time, if you'd like to do some kind of gay thing to me, I wouldn't hate you or anything.
That's what I was thinking about, and-well, you can see the result."
Kizu was struck by an unexpected emotion: This must be what they used to call heartrending grief, he thought. He stood up. Ikuo reacted defensively by protecting his genitals with his cupped hands. His pride wounded, Kizu said in a parched voice, nearly shouting, "That's not what's going on here! I don't know anything about homosexuality; I don't have any experience with it. Still, you have a beautiful body, and I do feel some sort of urges. I haven't been planning anything, but sadly, I do feel a kind of yearning. Maybe it's that time in my life. I don't know.
"This may sound like sour grapes, but why do you have to leave? Are you sure you'll never come back here again? Can't you seek your goal of being free together with me?"
Kizu fairly groaned this out. Not knowing how to continue, he collapsed in his chair, burying his face in his hands. He was crying. Through the spaces between his fingers, he could see Ikuo get down from the dais he'd been posing on, pressing down with one hand the bounding movements of his penis as he walked over to stand uncertainly in front of him, his waist slightly jutted for- ward. Kizu took himself by surprise, releasing his tear-stained hands to grasp Ikuo's buttocks, aiming for the anarchically moving penis and grasping it in his mouth. He opened his mouth wide, taking care not to hurt it with his false teeth, unsure how much pressure he could apply, getting the energetic penis to come to rest against his upper palate, wrapping his tongue around it as Ikuo held his head tightly with both hands.
Kizu acted like some old veteran, and when Ikuo ejaculated for what seemed like forever, Kizu couldn't have been happier. He let go his fingers from where they'd dug into the muscle and dimples on Ikuo's rump, and Ikuo's penis, still too large to be held in one hand, hung down next to Kizu's lips. Ikuo asked, vaguely, if there was some way he could repay him for all his kindness. Kizu gently shook his head, hoping to show that this was enough, and wiped away the excess semen dripping from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.
Kizu and Ikuo lay down side by side on wicker lounge chairs, the Vene- tian blinds half drawn to shut out the intense sunlight as they gazed up at the brilliant outline of the leaves of the wych elm against the cloudless autumn sky. They discussed how they would live now in Tokyo, after Ikuo quit his athletic club job and continued as Kizu's model. They decided not to make any quick decisions about the details. Occasionally they fell silent, simply enjoying the feeling of closeness. Ikuo was stretched out fully beside Kizu, who reached out to trace with his fingernails the circuit-board design of the skin-skin like the finest paper-on Ikuo's concave belly. Ikuo gazed down at this as if he were watching a drawing develop. Kizu saw how the move- ment of his fingernails made Ikuo's penis rub against his thigh. The head of the penis was dry, with fine reddish wrinkles, but looked wet. Embarrassed because it was starting to glisten again, Ikuo covered it with his dark shiny palm, and Kizu laid his own wrinkled palm on top.