Kneel Before This Love: Act 1

The long summer holidays were over, and Fuyuki was attempting to coax his reluctant brain out of vacation mode and shift his mental gears back to work. He had just settled in at his desk when the phone rang.

Outside line…

The neat, straight sweep of Fuyuki Suwa’s eyebrows resembled the stroke of a calligrapher’s brush as they furrowed in consideration. Under normal circumstances, the telephone here in the legal affairs office of the foreign-owned US Electronics Corporation would be answered by the staff secretary, but she happened to be out running an errand at the post office. Fuyuki was one of three lawyers working in legal affairs but he was also the youngest, which meant all the menial tasks inevitably fell to him whenever the secretary was unavailable.

Guess I’m taking this.

He didn’t actually like talking on the phone much, but nobody else was around who’d do it for him. Reluctantly, he picked up the receiver.

“Hello, this is the US Electronics legal affairs office.”

“Hello, yes, I’m Fuyuki Suwa’s mother,” said an unexpected voice in his ear, and he narrowed his almond-shaped eyes.

“Mom?” he whispered. This was the first time she’d called him at work in the two years he’d been employed at the company. He lived alone in an apartment not too far from his parents’ house, and he’d last spoken to his mother about ten days ago.

“Oh, Fuyuki, it’s you.… Thank God, I just have no idea what to do.”

What to do about what? She never gets to the point.

Fuyuki sighed. Whenever his mother panicked about something she just blurted things out incoherently. It was a habit he had frequently struggled with in his twenty-seven years of being her son, but at least by now he was used to dealing with it.

“I just really have no idea…”

“First, just take a deep breath for me,” he directed her quietly, swallowing his irritation. He couldn’t let himself get emotional, or a five-minute conversation would end up taking half an hour.

“Okay, I did.”

“Now, can you tell me why you called? Step-by-step, okay?”

“Oh God, that’s right, Fuyuki, what do you think I should do?”

“I just told you, start from the beginning and tell me step-by-step what happened.”

“Your father’s in the hospital!”

“What…?” he squeaked, blindsided.

“He collapsed this morning, he’s in the hospital. What do you think I should do?”

“Why didn’t you say that first!” he barked into the phone despite himself.

And of course, he had no idea in that moment that that phone call would end up changing the course of his entire life.

It wasn’t a good look coming right after a long holiday, but his father was ill, and he wasn’t about to sit it out at his desk. He made the requisite sheepish apologies before dashing out the door.

The last time he’d seen his father was the one time they’d gotten together at the beginning of the summer holiday. He’d looked healthy enough then… had something been wrong?

I didn’t even notice.…

Fuyuki was filled with regret. He’d barely gotten to see his father during his summer holiday this year. It had been just that single visit to his parents’ house; after that, his girlfriend had insisted they go on vacation to Hawaii. He wasn’t a huge fan of traveling abroad himself, but his girlfriend was a flight attendant for an airline company. She was the type of woman who liked to do everything the covers of women’s magazines told her to do, and so he had begrudgingly tagged along.

I should’ve spent that time just sitting down with him and talking.…

It wasn’t like anything had been forcing them to travel, especially during the most expensive time of the year.

He pictured his father’s face. The man was still a practicing lawyer, with all the exhausting demands that job entailed. Fuyuki was a lawyer too, but he and his father lived completely different lives, and given the nature of their respective duties neither was at much liberty to talk about his work. But they were still close as father and son, and hearing of his collapse was certainly cause enough for concern.

Please be okay!, he prayed, feet racing all the while.

His father was staying in his own room at a private hospital frequented by celebrities. Unlike Fuyuki with his corporate job, his father managed his own law firm. He served as legal advisor to several specific groups, and each and every one of his unconventional clients required special legal help for a reason. It figured he’d be mindful of his surroundings; this time too, he’d no doubt chosen a private room at a hospital like this out of consideration for the types of visitors he was likely to receive.

“Mom, how is he?”

“Oh, Fuyuki, you’re here!”

The second Fuyuki opened the door his mother was there to greet him, the skin around her eyes black like a panda. Her mascara and eyeliner must have run from too many hours of crying. Usually she didn’t have a hair out of place and looked younger than her age, but the effect was ruined now.

“I just, I don’t know what to do.…” She hunched in on herself and started to cry again. Fuyuki patted her on the back.

“I know, but is he okay?” He peered gingerly over at his father lying on the bed. He appeared to be asleep.

“Apparently it was a heart attack. They said he needs complete bed rest,” she said, rubbing her eyes. The back of her hands were stained black.

“Complete bed rest… So it’s not life-threatening?” He furrowed his brow.

“They said he’s okay for now.… What will I do, Fuyuki? If anything happens to him I don’t know what I—I…” She rushed to him, clinging to his suit with her dyed hands.

“Mom, you’ve gotta calm down. I want to talk to his doctor, did they talk to you yet?”

“A doctor explained some things to me but I was so worried, I don’t remember a word,” she answered in between sniffles.

“…I figured.” He had made his peace with his mother’s extreme unreliability a long time ago. He would have to speak to the doctor himself. Just as he reached for the in-room phone, a knock sounded on the door. Someone had come to see his father.

“Please come in,” his mother called, opening the door before he could remind her to wipe her face. Fuyuki took one look at the person who walked through the door and his face went pinched.

“Mitora…”

“Been a long time, Fuyuki. So how’s he doin’? Oh, ma’am, what happened 'round your eyes?”

He couldn’t tell from the man’s easy chatter if he’d noticed Fuyuki’s tension or not. Mitora’s tone was breezy, but the figure he cut was more like a wild beast—a carnivore. His face was lively and masculine. The high bridge of his nose and the thickness of his lips didn’t give him the look of some hunk with chiseled features—he was more assertive, more aggressive than that, with a powerful aura that Fuyuki had to fight to resist. He was the kind of man who was many hundred times more attractive in person than in any photograph. Fuyuki hated to admit it, but even as a fellow man he nearly caught himself staring in admiration.

Fuyuki was a good-looking guy in his own right, though a different type from Mitora. In fact, he was often told flat-out that he was “pretty” or a “beauty.” He was tall, with a face that he firmly believed was not feminine at all, but there seemed to be a bit of a gap between the objective opinions of others and his own subjective one. However, Fuyuki was not the type to underrate himself. He was used to seeing his own face in the mirror, so a look of admiration from him wasn’t won easily.

Mitora had a brightly colored bouquet slouched carelessly in his hands. He stood out vividly in the whiteness of the hospital room. But no matter how attractive he looked, Fuyuki had no desire to be friendly.

“Hey. This should go without asking, but you didn’t bring a troop of gangsters here with you, right?” He raised his thin eyebrows, putting on his cross-examination voice.

“It’s our territory round here. You think I’d walk around my own turf with a bunch of guys? I came here with my driver, that’s it.”

A driver that probably doubled as his bodyguard, too. Fuyuki furrowed his brow.

This man, Mitora Komine, was his childhood friend and two years his senior. He was also the young head of the widespread criminal syndicate Komine-kai, one of the organizations designated as dangerous by the Public Safety Commission under the Organized Crime Countermeasures Law, or OCC. The total number of their affiliated members was said to reach anywhere from eight thousand to near ten thousand. Fuyuki’s father was actually their legal advisor, which of course meant that he had ties to all of the gangs under the Komine-kai umbrella. He was the type of lawyer commonly called a “gang lawyer.” In addition to his monthly consulting fee, he was paid a large tip every time he resolved a dispute for them. If there was one thing gangsters were generous with it was tips for their lawyers, and from a financial standpoint being a gang lawyer was the ideal job. As a result, Fuyuki had been blessed monetarily with a more than comfortable life since childhood.

Of course, gang lawyers were not held in the highest regard by his fellow lawyers or in public opinion. His father was a very good man, but he still carried the stigma of his job. Ever since Fuyuki had turned old enough to understand a bit about how the world worked, he had stopped talking about his dad’s job to others. And when he had decided to pursue law himself, he’d made his apologies to his father for not helping out with his firm, and looked elsewhere for employment.

Well, the biggest reason Fuyuki had turned absolutely opposed to becoming a gang lawyer was Mitora himself.

Mitora handed the bouquet to his mother as he asked, “How is he, ma’am?”

“I’m really not sure, but they say there’s something wrong with his heart.…” She heaved a sigh.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Mitora knit his thick brows for a moment before seeming to have some kind of epiphany. All of a sudden he plucked out his handkerchief and quite forcefully began wiping at his mother’s eyes. “Here, ma’am, let me get that black round your eyes. That pretty face’s going to waste.”

“Oh, excuse me, it must be from crying.”

His mother was a natural-born princess, and she didn’t seem to give two hoots whether her knight was a gangster or a police officer. She was probably also particularly comfortable around Mitora because she’d known him since he was a boy, and her awareness of his current status seemed to extend no further than “oh, I see his name sometimes in the papers and magazines.” The fact that her husband was a gang lawyer had even brought the police around a few times to hassle her, but she always took it in stride. Maybe her nerves were stronger than they looked, at least in that sense.

“I’m sorry, Mitora, this is going to be trouble for you. There aren’t any other lawyers in his office right now.…” Now rescued from her panda eyes by Mitora, his mother hunched over and slumped her shoulders in remorse.

“Well, he’s not a young man anymore. Maybe he worked himself too hard.… Ever since they enacted the OCC he’s really gone to bat for us, getting the commission off our backs.” Mitora shot him a dirty look. “Meanwhile his heartless son goes off to wipe corporate ass.”

“Tch, got a problem with that?” Mitora had never been happy that he wasn’t taking over for his father, and the man took every opportunity to tell him he should just quit his job. “The reason my dad worked himself too hard in the first place is because of you all causing problems! Just disband already!”

He was fully aware that if the Komine-kai disbanded, his father would be out of his job as a gang lawyer. He just needed someone to take his anger out on.

“You know, you’re the only one who says that shit to my face, Fuyuki. Even the cops in the gang unit don’t dare.” Fuyuki had meant it as a cheap insult but Mitora seemed to have found it funny, if his snickering was anything to go by. “How about it, Fuyuki? What if you filled in for him while he’s recovering?”

“Absolutely not!” He pinned Mitora with a furious glare. What the hell does he think he’s saying?! “I’m a lawyer for a legitimate company! If anyone found out I’d worked for gangsters, I’d be fired on the spot!”

“So let ‘em. You get fired, and then you come help out your old man.”

“I refuse,” he rebuffed him point-blank, and Mitora’s expression turned distinctly unamused.

“You’re so cold.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to even find a job because I had links to gangsters? How hard I worked to finally get this job I have now?”

Bitter memories of his job-hunting days came flooding back, and he couldn’t stop himself from venting. After he’d passed the bar exam he’d known from the start that he wanted to be a lawyer, specifically a corporate one. But lawyers applying to legal affairs offices are subject to very thorough background checks… and Fuyuki had never resented his father’s occupation so much as he did back then. But he’d directed his rage not towards his father but towards Mitora, and he’d taken out that rage while he’d been job-hunting on Mitora’s phone calls, which he’d hung up on with extreme prejudice.

It was Mitora’s own damn fault anyway. Back then he’d already been stressed out with his job hunt not going well, and then Mitora had to waltz by to put in his brainless two cents of “what’s the big deal? Just work with your old man.”

That’s right. The nuisances this man had inflicted upon him were countless. He remembered middle school, when he’d encountered Mitora on the road to school and for some reason the boy had foisted a bottle of whiskey onto him. He’d ended up reluctantly carrying it all the way to class (there hadn’t been time to drop it off back at home), only to get caught in an unlucky surprise bag check. His teacher had refused to hear his side of the story and given him an earful, and all of the trust he’d carefully fostered as a straight-A student had gone straight down the drain.

He remembered his teenage years, when every girlfriend he made somehow fell for the rumor that any girl who dated him would end up getting trafficked to Hong Kong, and broke up with him within three months.

He remembered the night before his university entrance exams, when Mitora had barged in with all his underlings and insisted on giving him a “send-off party” (it had just been an excuse for them to let their hair down and get rowdy), and he’d been so off his game the next day that he’d failed his first-choice school.

And there were a thousand more such disastrous episodes whirling in Fuyuki’s memories. Worst of all was what Mitora had done to the girl he’d really loved to make her turn on him. She’d been a class above him in high school, and the first girl that he, a boy who’d always been asked out by others, had ever approached himself. She’d been very aloof and it had been a struggle to get on her radar, but his perseverance had paid off and finally she’d seemed about to say yes, and then—!

I’ll never, ever forgive him…!

Even now, just thinking about it made his blood boil with anger. Like always, Mitora had ruined things for him.

Unlike his previous girlfriends at the time, this girl had been the first to not acknowledge Mitora in the slightest, and he’d been over the moon because of course the girl he’d fallen in love with would be someone who would turn up her nose at Mitora. But Mitora had stooped so low as to show up with his gangster underlings and corner her—her, a defenseless young girl!

And thus had ended his first, and still his most serious, love.

Others might have called him vindictive, or laughed off this grudge he’d held onto for all these years, but he would never, ever forget what happened that day.

It was true they’d often played together as children. To his boyhood self, Mitora’s haughty attitude had made him seem like a reliable big brother. Very stubborn, but taking good care of those around him, and always springing into action… well, he didn’t mean any of that as a compliment.

But now, that reliable, macho side of him just looked like arrogance backed by violence. Besides, now they each had their positions to consider—positions that were irreconcilable.

Maybe it was because Mitora knew about his childhood, but some part of him just couldn’t control his emotions whenever Mitora was around. The man was a genius when it came to disrupting his rhythm, and Fuyuki had no idea how to deal with that. After he’d gone off to university they’d drifted apart a bit, between him doing his best to avoid him, and Mitora’s father passing away and Mitora taking over as the young new head of the syndicate. He’d hoped they would just stay out of touch forever but it seemed the world didn’t care much about what he hoped for, because as soon as Mitora had gotten his affairs in order, the man had started taking frequent breaks from what should have been a busy schedule to hang around him again.

Accordingly with its large size, the Komine-kai had been said to be splintered into many factions, but Mitora had forced them all under his control until there was no one left to challenge him. The man was perfectly set up to just stay in his gangster lane and do whatever it was he did in that industry (could you even call it an industry?), so why did he still insist on messing with him?

“Anyway,” Fuyuki declared flatly, “whatever happens to Dad, I won’t have anything to do with you!”

His father seemed to be working as a gang lawyer out of some personal convictions, but Fuyuki harbored no such thing. There was no way he was jumping headfirst into the underworld, no matter how well it paid. Most importantly, ties with gangsters could cost him his current job. He had no intention of helping out at his father’s firm, not even temporarily. His father took his work seriously, and knowing that his ill health was leaving Mitora and his men in the lurch like this was probably going to cause him stress. If Fuyuki offered to help it would take a load off his father’s mind, but as bad as he felt about it… he just couldn’t.

“Goddamn… you’re still headstrong as ever.” Mitora grinned at him. “Makes me wanna make you cry for me.”

“Get the hell out!” He pointed at the hospital room door, completely ignoring his nonsense.

“Alright, alright. See you round.” Mitora made for the door without complaint.

That was surprising. Was it because they were in a hospital? Had he finally learned somewhere how to be considerate of others?

Yes, wonderful, now you can extend that consideration to me!

…and then maybe the two of them could go back to being friends again like before. Not that he wanted that himself or anything, it’s just that if Mitora was insisting then maybe he wouldn’t mind considering it… that’s all.

“I could make some time for you during Bon and New Year’s,” he said, looking away frostily.

“You and Mitora are such good friends!” The mood in the room sailed over his mother’s head as she smiled blithely at them.