Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 13

Nik held Anri's hand tightly as they walked through the park. A crisp wind blew through making the leaves rustle above them, trying to whip around Anri's painstakingly put together hairdo. Their shotgun romance burned bright with romantic dinners and even hotter nights of passionate love making.

"Thanks for coming to see me on short notice. I know you were busy this week with stuff at your school job and a modeling gig, but something important came up we need to talk about," Anri calmly stated, clinging tightly to Nik's hand.

"Is it about the vacation we planned together? Something happen with work or your folks to put it on hold?" Nik asked.

"No, no, the vacation is still good. I don't want to miss that for anything. Where else am I going to see my man in a speedo?" she giggled.

"Only because I lost the wager," Nik laughed back.

"It is about us. I don't want to drag it out so I'm going to just come out with it. I'm pregnant, Nik. I got it double confirmed."

Nik stopped walking suddenly, dead in his tracks. He kept holding her hand tightly but his stomach felt like he took an uppercut right in the gut.

"Pregnant? Are you sure? Of course you're sure, you just said that," he said in disbelief.

"You're not mad are you?" she asked.

"No...no...I'm just...I don't know what to think right now, babe. Last week we're talking about a vacation, and now suddenly I'm going to be a father. It is...wow...just wow..."

He pulled her along as he walked directly to the nearest bench to sit down. He did not trust his legs from collapsing. They did not plan on kids nor talked about it. This is why they say the pill is not 100%, there is always that 1% chance.

"You found yourself a real stud," he joked, taking a deep breath. "We beat the pill."

"I want to know you're going to stick with me, Nik. I don't want to be a foreign toy stereotype, forgotten when you head back home."

"Shhhh...don't talk like that, Anri," he replied, pulling her in close to kiss her forehead. "I told you I love you. I could never leave you. Until death do us part..."

Nik kissed her forehead again but felt confused. His lips touched something wet and sticky. Pulling away he saw blood smeared all over her face, dripping from every orifice. It startled and scared him, plainly shown on his face for Anri to see.

"What? Until death do us part..."

Nik screamed out in horror as his upper body sat up quickly. A cold sweat covered his naked body, breathing haphazardly like he finished running a marathon. His fists tighten, punching the mattress hard, repeatedly, before throwing the pillow across the room.

The nightmare woke him from his deep slumber, and not for the first time. Resting his face in his hands, he tried to catch his breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck!" he screamed out. "Not again...not again...why again?"

The scream turned to sobs as the memory of his kidnapping and torture flashed into his mind's eye. Seconds passed and the tears turned to anger, cracking his fist against the headboard of his bed. The anger nullified the pain from gashing open his knuckle from breaking the wood.

"I'm going to kill them. Every last one of them," he stated through gritted teeth. "I'll ruin them. I'll end them."

Knowing he would not be getting any sleep in this state, Nik got out of bed and searched for his gym clothes. Now would be a better time than any to go get some fresh air and make use of his rage while it lasted. Still, he ignored the blood that dripped down his knuckle, not caring about the wound. The emerging pain made him feel more whole.

X

The neon street lights hung from the sky, illuminating the streets below with its welcoming glow. People slowly walked around from shop to shop, scattering to the wind like refuse in the wind as the night died down. A typical Saturday night in one of the city's more legitimate shopping districts. As the people wandered around, soaking in every moment, one man ran through the streets in a hoodie. Face partially hidden under the hot cotton garb, he kept running without a purpose, simply going forward while listening to the beat through hidden headphones.

Nik huffed and puffed, slipping by the random passersby, trying to keep his rhythm going. The music sustained his physical output, and the hoodie kept the cool, night chill from aggravating his healed, physical wounds. It took a year of rehab and lifting to get back his physical look from before the torture, but regaining a modicum of his physical endurance would take a lot more effort.

He suddenly stopped at a red walk light, sucking in air heavily. The cool air helped refresh his tired lungs and leg muscles as he slowly paced in place while waiting for the light to change. He looked around at the people walking by, a mixture of humanity at its finest and worst. A couple walked hand-in-hand, hanging onto each other's every word and moments away from needing a room for a very private conversation. A salaryman looked glued to his phone, thumbing through something to his amusement. Without seeing the screen it could be anything from a random manga to a phone game to a dating app. A homeless man scuffled about with a bottle of cheap, convenience store sake in his hand, heading to his cardboard bed positioned underneath the overpass ahead of them. The perfect spot to stay dry when it became typhoon season, and with enough space to stay out of the walker's way.

All these people and more were a part of Nik's nightly jogging environment. After the park fight he realized he did not have the stamina to keep up with his desire for revenge. He went blow-to-blow with the crew from Osaka but he relied on rage to get him through it. When would that rage fail to ignite? The next fight? Against a real, grizzled tough guy? He did not know so he needed to sand off as many weaknesses as possible, and soon.

It also did not help that Musashi wanted him to perform more in front of the camera. The video he did with the 'schoolgirl' got good reviews from some major AV sites, despite the masked gaijin motif. Musashi wanted to strike while the iron was hot and make the sequel as soon as possible. He also wanted Nik to keep directing it, giving him full-reign of the production.

Nik kept jogging, turning a corner to a long pathway covered in trees and benches. Some nights he'd see couples and groups hanging out on the benches like it were a beach. All spread out, some would have drinks and food, some books to read, and some just tried to be affectionate without breaking the social taboos of the local culture. Despite the random people, the view and rustle of the trees mixed in with the street lights helped calm Nik's nerves. It felt serene to find a small piece of nature inside a bustling, concrete jungle.

Other joggers occasionally ran by the long pathway, as well as bikers. Nik stopped again to sit on a bench, pulling down his hood to stare up at some of the trees. He fixated on the rustling and the chorus created by the breeze. Calm, serene, it helped focus him. Pulling off his headphones, he looked around, breathing heavily. He had been jogging for an hour and despite the cool breeze, this was still Japan. It only knocked the heat down a degree or two. Sweat dripped from his brow. Droplets hit his hoodie, mixing into the soaked fabric. He wore nothing underneath.

"I'll be happy when I'm back to 100%. I hate cardio," he sighed, sucking in a large breath.

He trained this way for a secondary purpose. He wanted to observe humanity again, raw and unfiltered. At night, especially on the designated party nights, he could see the true face of humanity. During the day in Japan, everyone acted prim and proper, respecting their hierarchical roles. All the businessmen in their generic suits and ties crowded into the subways to their desk jobs. All the manual laborers shuffled to whatever building went up that week. All the immigrants manned the convenience stores, selling coffee and store food to other workers on the way to their jobs. Everyone colored between the lines.

Here though, at this time, those same people colored outside the lines. In the far view of his eyesight, Nik caught movement on one of the benches. Two people were passionately making out, indulging in a social taboo. This was no simple kiss, they were sucking face thanks to the slight veil of darkness covering the pathway. They did this all while others walked by and others on a nearby bench listened to music on a boombox.

These moments gave him time to reflect on life. Only a year ago he colored in those lines, happily dressing in his cheap, generic suit to play tape recorder to a bunch of high schoolers who barely had an interest in learning English outside of passing a government mandatory test. Being tortured to the brink of death erased his line and he wondered if there was a point to redrawing it, and how?

He stood up and started jogging again. He kept going until he reached a small convenience store a couple blocks from his apartment building. Slowing down as he reached the glow of the store sign, he walked inside, ignoring the small gang sitting around outside drinking beers.

Inside the chill of air conditioning cooled his hot face. His feet walked him straight to the drinks section, and his hands sought out the coldest bottle of water he could find to help quench his earned thirst. After buying the drink, Nik slowly walked out while downing the water quickly. He took a moment to find a spot to sit down near the corner, away from the ruckus.

"Why do you have Tomoe calling you this time of night?" one of the women shouted at one of the men.

Nik tried to ignore the gang but they dressed like stereotypical yankiis. All the men dressed up their hair with enough mousse to make Zack Morris weep, and the girls wore heavy, dark makeup all over their faces, contrasting to their blonde hair.

"What? She wanted to come and party with us. I didn't complain when Hayashi gave you a call the other day," the man replied, squatting down as he drank from a fresh beer can.

"What's the harm? We all party together anyways," a second punk chimed in.

"I bet you wouldn't like it if I invited a complete stranger to party with us," the woman stated, waving at Nik.

"Don't be dumb, and don't be go waving at some punk nobody," the leader replied between swigs.

Nik could feel their eyes stare a hole at him despite his face covered by the hood. He kept ignoring them, not wanting to get involved in their group spat.

"Yoo-hoo, hey, guy, want to come party with us? We've got lots of drinks," she called out again.

"Dude, you're going to let your girl just flirt with some stranger," a third punk needled the leader.

"What is he doing on our turf anyways this late at night?" the second punk added.

"Hey, asshole, go fuck your drink somewhere else," the leader shouted harshly.

Nik ignored the words. Part of him did not want any trouble. He only wanted to cool down from the run and rest before continuing home. However, if he truly wanted that he'd have stood up and walked off.

"Hey, you deaf, fucko?"

CLUNK!

The gang started laughing, including the flirty girl, as an empty beer can smacked Nik on the side of the skull. It ricocheted off harmlessly to the ground. They sought to humiliate him more than damage him with the assault. Still, Nik kept ignoring it as he took another swig, emptying his bottle except for a scant amount in the bottom.

"I guess fucko really is deaf," Punk Three laughed.

"Here, give me that can," the leader commanded, grabbing it from Punk Two's hand.

"I'm not done. Don't waste good beer."

Too late. The can flew through the moonlit sky straight for Nik's head again. This time though, he anticipated the second volley and deftly moved slightly out of the way. It sailed on by, clanking onto the hard cement. Not wasting any time, Nik took his own bottle and hucked it towards the leader. The scant amount of water gave it enough heft to leave a mark on the flabbergasted face.

"Oh damn, he got you good," Punk Two laughed.

"Fucko want a death wish?" Punk Three commented, facing off towards Nik.

"You know who I am?" the leader called out, rubbing his cheek.

"Just some asshole," Nik replied.

Hearing the disrespectful retort sent the punk into a rage. He stood up and aggressively walked towards Nik.

"Leave me alone, okay? I'm not interested in fighting you," Nik stated, slowly standing up too.

He wiped the dirt from his shorts, head tilted downwards so the hood kept hiding his face as best as possible under the store's bright illumination.

"Too late now. You should have left when you had the chance. Now we're going to have to make an example of you. We have a reputation to uphold."

"In front of a brightly lit convenience store? Either your gang is full of blockheads who failed technical school, or the cashier is part of your little crew," Nik observed. "Otherwise the cops will be here in a flash."

Nik turned to leave, thus giving the leader the best opportunity to strike. He took the first punch, eating it like a hungry meal after a hard day of labor. The punks cheered on their leader but Nik did not go down. The punch did not hurt as much as he expected.

"Now I know why your girl is calling another guy. Your punch is weak. I know whores packing more oomph than what you've got rolled up your sleeves," Nik egged the man on.

Deep inside he wanted this fight. If a couple punks couldn't be tossed aside like trash, the next time a rumble got called, he'd be doing Musashi no favors. The right hand balled itself into a tight fist, so hard that the fingernails dug into palm skin. No more waiting. No chance for a piffy retort to the insult. One punch replied with another as Nik launched his fist into the punk leader's gut.

The punks were stunned that someone would fight back against their bravado and arrogance. Whoever they taunted and tormented in the past must not have put up much of a fight because they hesitated in pouncing onto Nik as their leader crumpled to both knees.

"Next time someone wants to be left alone, better respect his wishes," Nik stated, just before kneeing his downed opponent in the face.

"Shit, man, we were just messing around. Nothing to get worked up about, right?" the second punk stammered, rushing to pull his friend away.

Turning away, Nik walked off to leave the group to lick their wounds and ego. The top dog was all bark and no bite. If he threw that weak punch at Barbaydas, he would be the one with the knee to the face. Despite wanting to find tranquility and peace during the jog, instead he found rage and warfare as images from his torture flashed into his mind's eye. Still shots of the physical and mental abuse he suffered.

"I need to get stronger..." he whispered to himself, jogging off back to his apartment.

X

Musashi looked at the spreadsheet Ryuji printed off for him, smiling at the results. He had both feet on top of his desk, keeping the mood casual as Ryuji sat in one of the office chairs.

"That many sales already? Our boy is a hot commodity," Musashi commented. "We'll have to keep the golden goose working."

"The gaijin is earning his keep, I'll admit that," Ryuji scoffed, folding his arms. "But he better not get a big head from having one hit film. He'll need to stay consistent if he is to earn us the big bucks."

"I smell a JAV award for him in the future."

"That'll be the day."

"Money talks, brother. The awards panel can't turn their nose up at a foreigner if he breaks the record books."

"Yeah, well, I want to see him in action for the reason we recruited him. I've got another Ueno woman lined up who dug herself into debt. The sister of some punk who thought she had unlimited credit," Ryuji informed Musashi.

"How much is she going to cost us?"

"Nothing we can't handle, but for her it is a lot."

"Just make sure our associates don't fall into similar debt. I'm not spending all this time and money to ruin that snake's reputation for my own people to pursue a similar path."

"Speaking of which, how is the gaijin doing with Barbaydas? At some point one of these husbands is going to come a knocking, and we won't be around to save his ass all the time."

"Barbaydas tells me he has potential," Musashi replied, tossing the paper onto the table. "He is too wild though, too caught up in his own rage. Barbaydas will beat some sense into him. I don't pay him to take it easy on the men."

"I'll set up the shoot for the start of next week so he can use the rumble time to recharge."

"Osaka will not be surprised again. They are going to come at us harder than last time."

"You don't have another kicked-in car anymore to put up. What are the terms?"

"Women."

"Women? That fuck actually going to lift a finger now instead of having it shoved up his ass to smell his own farts?"

Musashi tapped the paper on the desk.

"Nik piqued his interest. Not everyday someone breaks his stranglehold on the top 10. He offered a talent exchange. If we win, we get one of his top girls for a movie."

"And if we lose?" Ryuji inquired.

"Nik stars in one of their next productions."

Ryuji laughed at the idea.

"Nik better not lose then."

"We better not lose," Musashi corrected him. "I'll have the details on the event later. Make sure Nik is up to speed but don't tell him about this arrangement. I do not want him unfocused. Tell him he'll get another reward for doing his part."

"Yeah, I'll message him later once I'm done on set. The new girl is being a snob and it makes my knee ache."

"Breathing makes your knee ache."

"Therein lies the problem."

Ryuji got up, walking off to get on with his day job directing another smut film. Musashi picked up the sales sheet again and smiled. His masked golden boy was going to shake up the industry's paradigm.

X

The nurse leaned over the western patient, taking a thermometer from his mouth. Her candy striper uniform hung open provocatively, showing off the tops of her lacy green bra. With matching green lipstick, she purred at the number.

"You're in good health but we'll need to make sure this temperature is accurate. I have a special way to help make sure," she seductively told the man.

He laid out on the examination table completely naked except for his mask, his entire body a marvel for the nurse to stare at. One finger smoothly ran down his muscular, masculine chest, and crossed over the ridgeline of his abdominal muscles that still peaked up like mountains despite laying down. The finger took the scenic route traveling through each valley on the way to the real peak.

With all five fingers she gripped the base of his large cock, stroking the tower up and down slowly. She could feel the thick veins pop out, adding to the already impressive girth. The nurse could not help but bite her lip in anticipation, feeling it down her throat.

"This is how we treat the real VIPs here at this hospital, so make sure you keep your insurance up to date and always come back for more treatments," she explained in a hushed voice.

The masked man did not move, accepting the handjob from the sultry nurse. A change of pace from previous films where he had to be in total control, he felt weird just laying there and taking it but that is what the director wanted. Don't move, don't react, only moan at the right times. Pretend to be immobilized.

Ryuji called him in at the last minute for the shoot. Despite having the week off to rest for an upcoming rumble, a few of the male talent got sick and they were under a harsh deadline. Ryuji hated rewrites but what had to be done had to be done. Nik didn't care. Truth be told it gave him something else to do than sit at home and sulk.

"Now that you're warmed up it is time for me to check your temperature again."

The nurse bent over at the waist, sticking her firm ass up in the air, as she consumed the tip of his cockhead inside her wet, waiting and willing mouth. She sucked on the tip like it were a lollipop, twirling her tongue around to survey each pour.