Soul of the Night: Beginnings

As it turned out, Kiyoshi’s money went a long way in this small town. They were able to take some of the better seats on the knee-high platform along the inn’s walls, with the nicely polished tables and clean chopsticks. Two bottles of warm sake were brought to them, along with the steamed pork buns as Kiyoshi had promised. The rice wine was just to Ryuhei’s liking, so much so in fact, they drank a third bottle as well.


“You’ll have to be careful with me now.” Ryuhei giggled lightly behind his hand. “Sake tends to loosen more than just my tongue.”


Kiyoshi felt his cheeks color as he glanced down at Nakamura-san’s lap. If anything, it seemed to harden some parts of him.


“You’re just so kind,” Ryuhei cooed, then hiccupped. “You’ve made my stay here so much more bearable—enjoyable I’d even say.” He reached across the low table and patted Kiyoshi’s hand. “I thought you might’ve been a traveling musician when I first saw you.” He smiled, his fingertips tracing the smooth skin on Kiyoshi’s knuckles. “You have such long, graceful fingers. There’s not a callus on them and your nails are so fine. That’s quite unusual for a farmer.”


“I never said I was a very good farmer,” Kiyoshi replied softly as he turned his hand to lightly clasp Ryuhei’s. He stroked the pad of his thumb across the pulse point on Nakamura’s wrist and felt his own blood stir with the same steady rhythm of the actor’s. He licked his lips, his fangs tingling in his mouth as they tried to extend in anticipation.


Forcing himself to release Ryuhei’s hand, he signaled for the innkeeper. “Perhaps we should see about arranging that room and finishing our drinks in private?”


Ryuhei tilted his head forward to peer seductively up at Kiyoshi through a fringe of dark lashes. “I would like that, Kiyoshi-kun. I would like that very much.”


The innkeeper trotted over and, pleased with Kiyoshi’s generosity of payment, dashed off to prepare them a room. Ryuhei stood a bit shakily, dipping a little and murmuring about how “That was good wine.”


He started humming old folk songs about sakura blossoms and the moon, and Kiyoshi thought Ryuhei had a sweet-sounding voice. “Those are pretty songs.” He smiled at Nakamura, standing to help keep the actor steady as the innkeeper returned.


Apparently, Ryuhei’s balance depended more on how close Kiyoshi was than any effect of the liquor. Dropping his arm around Kiyoshi’s waist, Ryuhei didn’t seem quite so tipsy after all. They followed the innkeeper up the wooden staircase that rose over the entrance to the kitchen, heading towards the room that had been readied for them.


“If I still had my shamisen, I could play those songs for you and you could sing them,” Nakamura suggested playfully.


“I don’t know the lyrics; you’d have to teach them to me.”


Ryuhei gasped with mock horror. “But every child learns those songs.”


“Neh…sometimes I forget things like that.” Kiyoshi laughed nervously. He’d been born long before the first versions of those songs had been sung in any country village.


“Oh, Kiyoshi-kun.” Nakamura giggled. “You can remember my performances from ten years ago, but not this?” Ryuhei stopped in the middle of the hallway. “You do remember me, don’t you? You aren’t saying it to be kind?”


“I do remember.” Kiyoshi nodded adamantly until the sad expression lifted from the actor’s face. “I couldn’t forget such a stirring performance.”


“Nakamura!”


They both turned in unison to stare over the railing at the man who’d just burst through the front entryway. His bright red costume was rumpled and soaked with sweat, the feathers crowning the brass lion’s mask under his arm were limp and soggy.


Ryuhei tensed at first and then his shoulders slumped. “Oh no,” he groaned. “It’s Shosei from the Noh idiots…”


“Nakamura!” Shosei bellowed again, jabbing his finger up in the air rather rudely. “We had a show tonight.”


“Did we, Shosei-san?” Ryuhei blinked innocently.


The Noh actor sputtered and then shouted, “Yes.”


“Did anyone attend?”


“What the hell do you mean ‘did anyone attend’? Half this town must have shown up.”


“Did anyone important attend?”


“You—” Shosei’s round face turned the same shade of scarlet as his costume. “I had to play all three roles myself. I’m not paying you to chase ass in these ryokan.”


“You call that two-bit pittance payment?” Ryuhei leaned over the railing, just as worked up as the Noh actor. “It’s robbery. An actor of my skill stuck playing the role of waki—a meaningless secondary character? Insult.”


Kiyoshi looked around, nervous at the attention the scene was getting from the other guests. One thing was certain—this was a far better show than anything performed at the Noh.


“Robbery, is it?” Shosei shouted. “You washed up whore. You’re fired.” With that, he stormed back out of the inn.


Everything was silent in the inn for a long time afterward. Then Nakamura stood up straight and pronounced with all the dignity of an official in the emperor’s court, “It’s a good thing I quit first.”


Kiyoshi contained yet another laugh, rather surprised at how Nakamura brought so much lightness to his long, dreary existence. Oh, the man was most likely insufferable taken in large doses, but the sweetness of Ryuhei’s blood when he put himself into such a stir was undoubtedly worth the inconvenience.


He touched Ryuhei’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Perhaps we should get to our room. There’s no sense giving people a show they aren’t paying for.”


Ryuhei’s arm slipped around his waist once more, his hand gliding down across Kiyoshi’s hip. “Yes, my friend. Private shows have always been my favorite.”


Ryuhei kissed him the instant the innkeeper slid the shoji closed behind them. Kiyoshi responded with a need he hadn’t felt in ages.


The actor’s lips were soft and moist, his eager tongue tasting of the sake they’d drunk together. Kiyoshi pulled back only long enough to set down the bottle of wine he carried, then wrapped his fingers around Nakamura’s obi sash and jerked the man forward into another deep kiss. His nimble fingers made quick work of the tight knot until the obi fell, giving him free access to the burning flesh within the robe.


Ryuhei moaned into his mouth and arched forward as Kiyoshi ran his palm across the growing bulge contained within the front of the actor’s loincloth. Kiyoshi let out his own soft moan as Ryuhei’s lips slid down, the actor’s tongue snaking out to glide along the side of Kiyoshi’s neck as though it were a slice of ripe fruit. He teased the lobe of Kiyoshi’s ear with his teeth, murmuring words of delight when Kiyoshi leaned in for more.


“Oh, you sweet, lovely thing.” Ryuhei’s hands stroked through the fabric of Kiyoshi’s kimono the way a musician ran his hands over a beloved instrument. “I haven’t wanted anyone as much as I want you, Kiyoshi-kun.”


A lie, most probably. But it didn’t matter, for the invigorating scent of the man’s blood seeped from his pores, igniting the vampire’s appetite in so many ways. Kiyoshi dropped to his knees before Ryuhei, nuzzling his hard cock through the fabric of the fundoshi. He slipped his fingers inside, fondled the dusky warm flesh incased within the loincloth. Ryuhei, knees quaking, squeezed Kiyoshi’s shoulders to steady himself.


“Oh, Gods. I can’t believe the effect you have on me.” Ryuhei moaned as Kiyoshi began to tug the fabric free. “Please don’t make me wait…”


Kiyoshi dropped Ryuhei’s loincloth to the floor, staring as the other’s flesh grew longer and harder still. He gripped the base of the erection and leaned in to stroke the rigid length with his tongue, licking at the top slit and the thick drop of fluid beading there.


“Oh, Gods.” Ryuhei tangled his fingers in Kiyoshi’s hair and tried to pull him closer. But Kiyoshi drew away, freed himself and stood as the actor whimpered, “Don’t be a tease…”


Stepping back, Kiyoshi said nothing. He took the rolled futon mattress from the corner of the room and spread it across the wooden floor. Shedding his own clothing, he held out his hand in invitation.