The Diary of Masahiko Yoichi. level 14Mature

Level 14!

My grandfather spent the next few hours coaching me. How I should be around ladies, what I should do, table manners, subjects to talk about. The whole absurdity of it was slowly getting to me. My obsessed, derange grandfather has dragged me halfway across the world to lecture me about dating women and set me up with a princess. Something just doesn’t add up, I have a horrid feeling that this is only half the story, but still part of me wants to believe he’ll just let me go at the end of all this.

I’ve been sat in a fancy restaurant in Tokyo for about half an hour when the Princess arrives. I admit she’s a very pretty, well poised young girl. I guess she’s about a year and a half  younger than me. She has waist length, straight, silvery blond hair. She’s pale skinned and is wearing a lilac almost white Lolita dress, with purple lace trimmings and a soft, grey, fur shrug, done up with a gold chain. I stand up automatically and pull out her chair.  When she removes her fur shrug I notice a very large amethyst about the size of a baby’s head, surrounded by diamonds and suspended on a gold chain. But then I notice how slender she is and how prominent her shoulder bones are and my sinking returns. How sick is this beautiful young girl? She raises her purple lace, entwined hand and I kiss it. Thankfully the drug the lab coat guy gave me is also supressing my natural urge to barf. She smiles shyly and we order starters. It turns out this ‘princess’ is the daughter of a very wealthy diamond mine owner. Her name is Miss Emiko Chou. She’s part of the Noboko family and  she’s also 17 like me. Whatever ails her has also made her look younger. She’s fully Japanese but was born naturally pale and her hair colour was a fashion choice, but the hesitance in her voice says otherwise. I compliment it regardless if on que. I notice at a table at the other end of the restaurant sit two very excited looking Lolita girls. Both are wearing black dresses and keep looking in my direction. With all that’s been going on I’d completely forgot how popular I am with women in Japan. I disregard the girls and go back to eating my starters, yet I can’t shake the feeling I know them from somewhere. As Emiko and I consider what to have for our main meal one of the Lolita girls comes up to the table. She has short gingery red hair tied into curly pigtails. “Erm excuse me?” Emiko looks up towards the girl, “Masahiko do you know this girl?” Emiko’s voice is very delicate, almost like a music box. The red haired Lolita girl looks at me “Your Masahiko Yoichi aren’t you? Oh my god I’ve always wanted to meet you! I’m so sorry about interrupting you.” The red haired Lolita girl walked away with a little skip. I turned back to Emiko and her eyes were filled with bitter sadness. “Dear Masahiko please tell me, where is your favourite place in Tokyo?”  This was a question my grandfather had not expected. I had no practiced and forced answer. I felt the drug losing its grasp as I sipped some of my cherry blossom wine. So I just spoke from the heart; “the top of the Matsuzakaya department store. I went there as a child and they’d set up these LED cherry blossom trees. It was beautiful when it started to go dark.”

“Will you take me there?” She began to rise from her seat and I rose to help her and fastened up her shrug. This time I was slower to respond. Seeing as we are supposed to be at the restaurant for another two hours, I’m guessing the drug was wearing off faster than anticipated. Emiko’s limo was still waiting outside and I opened the door for her on instinct. My brain was almost free of the pale blue drug and I was coming to my senses.

After a short drive we were at the department store. We took the elevator up to the top floor, by this time Emiko was looking paler and slightly unsteady. There was no way she could be drunk  as she’d not had the wine, but I was still concerned. When the lift reached the top floor, she tumbled slightly and I put my arm round her to steady her. My stomach was back to its usual antics around women. I forced the vomit down as I didn’t want to see impolite and I also couldn’t remember the last time I ate. We took a seat near the edge of the building. It was already going dark and you could see some of the stars between the clouds. Emiko shivered and I wrapped my jacket around her. Female or not she’s still far colder than I was, possibly ill and I was happy to get rid of it. “Masahiko, it’s beautiful up here. I love it,” her voice croaked and she coughed. She coughed so hard she fell into my side. I wrapped one arm round her and lifted her chin up with my free hand. Her cheeks were bright red from the coughing. “Emiko what’s wrong?”

“Please call me Emi. I like it more.” I gazed into her eyes. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” I felt overwhelmed with sadness. I hadn’t felt like this since I’d watch my mum die when I was eight. The memories of her bleeding on the floor of the shopping center, her painful, agonisingly long death in the hospital as we all tried to save her. The sound of the gun shot from that day echoed through my mind. Emiko’s voice snapped back to reality. She sounded terrified, “Masahiko I need to go home. Now! Please!” With that I picked up her light, fragile body and ran toward the lift. The jacket falling off Emiko and remaining on the bench where we’d sat. By the time I’d got her to her limo she’d lost consciousness. Her chauffer took one look at her crumpled body in the back seat and I could see in his face he’s knew what had happened. We sped toward he parents out of city mansion as fast as we could.

We’d long since left the Tokyo lights behind us, by the time Emiko had come round. She seemed different. She was weaker now somehow. She gripped my shirt with her small fists. How could I not have noticed how ill she was before? I’d un-tucked my shirt and ripped off the stupid bowtie. She stared up at me with her big pale blue eyes, “that’s better; you look more like yourself now.” She giggled softly, “I’ve always been a fan of yours. I used to go to your families parties when I was a kid. I loved you back then. I still do my prince.” She pulled herself to my side. What felt like only a few days ago I was in a similar position with Samuel. I felt my heart pang and my stomach twist. “I was so happy when you contacted me, asking if we could go out together. You were always so beautiful.” I wrapped my arm around her frail body. I stomach sank. My grandfather had written to this girl as me, duped her into thinking I was in love with her. I need to summon up all the courage I had and stay strong for her. “My prince, please, never forget me.” I looked at her face, I could feel her life draining from her as she grew colder against my chest. I tilted her head up and kissed her fore head. This poor girl never knew any different, she thought I loved her back. She didn’t know I was gay, that I’ve always have been. She had no idea sh’ed been lied to and that someone else contacted her. She had no idea I had been drugged up and acted against my will. She was dying, right here in my arms. I could feel her life force ebbing away. I couldn’t break her heart, even if I could be open about who I am, I’d still never be that cruel. “Thank you, my prince” Suddenly my whole world went quiet, as if time stood still. Her pale smiling face, her big blue eyes, they sagged. I felt her muscles relax and she was now cold as stone. IO pulled her in tight and sobbed gently into her hair. I won’t let my grandfather get away with this. He must have known she was dying. The sick bastard. Gay or not I’d never forget her, and my grandfather was going to pay.

The End

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