Men are ridiculed for doing “Feminine” acts because femininity is a weakness in the eyes of the patriarchy. Women get ridiculed for doing “Masculine” actions because it’s “not their place,” or so they’re taught.

For 21-year-old Satsuki Nakayama, this statement couldn’t have been closer to the truth. She’d be the very last person you’d ever expect to allow her gender to dictate the way she’d live her life. Whether that involved her going against societal gender norms, conducting business at the workplace, or courting her romantic interest. Rebellious by nature and stubborn to the core, she sported a masquerade of confidence acquired at a young age. It equipped her to face the obstacles of the “normal” world that thrown her way continuously due to her abnormally androgynous lifestyle. However, there were no specific precautions that could’ve possibly prepared her for the series of events that would unfold to challenge the very backbone of her beliefs.

Perhaps if she were genuinely ready, she would’ve heeded her therapist’s advice to enroll in that anger management course the day prior to her termination. Maybe if she’d taken just a little time to comprehend the complexity of her fears entirely, she wouldn't have been able to resist lecherous temptations instead of seeking solace by jumping from bed to bed with a series of seasonal lovers. If she had known what was to come...Perhaps...perhaps she would’ve lingered just a bit longer between the thighs of the woman beneath her, further indulging in their lustful deed. Instead, she allowed the disruptive hammering from the gentleman loitering at her door to distract her.

“Suki! Suki, I know you’re in there!” The young man stood in front of her apartment, relentlessly banging his fist against the hard wooden door. “Stop whoever you're doing, put your pants on, and come out here!”

An irritated breath released from Daesung's chest. Thoroughly aware that the woman on the other side would be taking her dear, sweet time to greet him. He removed the strands of unruly hazelnut hair from the front of his face; his eyes traveled down the corridor of the complex only to see a mother and child swap perplexed looks his way. In a weak attempt to dismantle the awkwardness, he sent a friendly wave tagged along with a toothy, nervous grin in their direction as they made a hasty retreat. Unable to sit in the hall in silence, he gazed at his watch, reconfirming the time they’d agreed to meet. Mumbling a string of profanities, he shifted anxiously, waiting in front of her door.

“Yah! Satsuki Nakaya-”
Daesung prepared himself for the second wave of mild harassment; his sentence cut short when he reached to knock on the door once again. He’d slipped on something sleek, causing him to stumble forward a bit.

“This girl...”
He shook his head, bending down to pick up his friend’s mail, which covered in debris- along with more than a few shoe prints. It was apparent that these parcels had been there for an extensive period. A startled gasp fled from him when he picked up the post and noticed all three papers read ‘FINAL NOTICE’ in big, bold, red font.

The slow creaking of the rusty door met his ears, and a woman with an inky, black mane styled in a boyish haircut stood before him, a bored expression exhibited on her face. Her eyes trailed down to the crouching boy holding the mail and back up to his skittish front. Bewildered at this sight, she leaned her slender body against the door frame. She snorted haughtily, dabbing the beads of sweat from the center of her breast with the towel that draped around her neck, barely long enough to cover her exposed upper half. She shot a poignant glance his way, and he didn’t dare speak. An apprehensive brow lifted as she jammed her hands into the depths of her charcoal gray sweatpants.

“Hey, Kang Daesung...Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to touch things that don’t belong to you?” Satsuki reached for the distorted documents in his grasp, promptly retrieving them.
A displeased scowl painted on the young man’s expression. Readjusting his posture, he stood up and cleared his shirt free of wrinkles, more than ready to scold her for the delay.
“Seriously! If you don’t want people touching your stuff, then put it in your house. You little ingrate...” Daesung muttered the last bit under his breath, twined with annoyance from the situation he found himself in.

“Whatever.” Utterly dismissing the petty details of the matter, Satsuki's attention was captivated by something- or, instead, someone else. The slender, manicured hands of a promiscuously dressed woman clasped around Satsuki's waist. The woman pressed her bosom against the bareness of Satsuki’s back, followed by a kiss on the serpent tattoo that showcased on her neck.
“Call me later, okay?”

Daesung’s face twisted into a quizzical stare attempting to put a name to the front of the slightly familiar voice. The pleasantries of smiles, a few romantic words, and understanding nods exchanged amongst the partners. Trading off a few last-minute kisses, the two women bid each other a final goodbye. Satsuki’s guest waved, then passed by a stupefied Daesung.
His jaw dropped, observing the arrogance radiating from Satsuki’s satisfied smirk that lingered on her lips. She watched the woman’s waist enticingly sway side to side, paired with the clicking of her heels until she disappeared around the corner of the hallway. Once the woman vanished entirely from the pair’s sight, Satsuki let out a sigh of deviance.

“No,” Daesung exclaimed, finally finding his voice of disapproval.
“Hmm, yes,” Satsuki replied mildly.
“Tell me that wasn’t her.”
“Of course, it was.”
“Y-you wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
“Yah, no wonder you got fired!”
“No, I got fired because my boss is a narrow-minded, homophobic pig.”
“Well, yes, and no. But I think banging his daughter in the workplace is reasonable terms for termination!”

A nonchalant shrug of her shoulders came, nearly dismissing the truth of his statement before she turned on the heels of her bare feet, entering her living quarters.
“Tsk,” Watching the shape of her back, Daesung let out a judgemental huff of his own.
He invited himself in, a gesture he had become accustomed to over the years. Respectfully, he began taking off his shoes, ready to neatly place them in the entryway, but to his surprise, there was no available space. The moment he entered, he’d nearly tripped over a pile of unwashed laundry and a variety of unhung sweaters and coats. His eyes bloomed in astonishment once he’d gotten a better look at the disheveled studio. Almost entirely cloaked in darkness, the residence practically mimicked the emptiness of an abandoned building. The dishes were stacked high, stains marking the countertops and stove. The mild stench of week-old garbage greeted his nose with an unpleasant odor, causing his hand to cover his nostrils as he passed by. Empty bottles of alcohol littered across the living room to the full-size bed. The only sense of order to the home was hidden in the shadows of her closet that held shelves of photography equipment, painted canvases, and drawing paper. It was so much worse than he’d thought. He’d always known her to be slightly artistically unorganized, but never to this caliber. His eyes followed the half-naked figure to the blue bean bag in the corner in which Satsuki had comfortably seated herself. An unsettled squint followed her when she placed a questionably clean shirt over her torso.

“Wow, Suki...” He broke the quiet air amongst them, hands placed disapprovingly on his hips as he took in the chaotic clutter. “You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you?” His voice was baffled by her peculiar behavior, finding it most disturbing. “I know you’re going through a rough patch right now, but-” He paused to collect his words wisely. “Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“If the decor isn’t appealing to your standards, you’re more than welcome to see yourself out,” the raven-haired girl replied. Reaching over to a nearby nightstand, careful not to disturb the picture frame that laid face down upon it, she retrieved a pack of cigarettes and her favorite matte black lighter. Satsuki placed the coffin nail between her lips, and a tiny flame welcomed the end of it. Inhaling, then exhaling, she watched as the toxic vapors morphed in the air. The way the smoke danced inspired her to strum the strings of her acoustic guitar mindlessly.

“Come on, don’t be that way. I come bearing good news! I’ ve-” He paused his announcement. Frustration surfaced once he noticed that the girl was only mildly paying him any attention. Clearing his throat, he ignored her impolite behavior and proceeded to continue his report in a more cheery, song-like tone, hoping it would lift her spirits if only just a bit. Realizing his efforts were dismissed, he felt defeated. Never once did she even bother to look up at him, just simply continued to play a calming medley on her beloved instrument. Officially fed up with being blown off, Daesung reached for her cigarette, immediately ashing it out in a shot glass nearest the picture frame on the nightstand.
“Hey!”
“Would you look at me when I’m talking to you, woman?! I have something important to tell you. You can go back to your self-deprecating pity party afterward!” Vacant of all buoyant charm he usually displayed, he took a disposition that was met with pure, serious intent.
“So annoying...” Her words were met with a chilling glare that only a big brother would give their younger sibling for demonstrating such a lack of respect.
“I’m trying to tell you something, you bastard! Now, listen to me.”
Aggravated, she surrendered, letting out a displeased groan and collapsing back in the bean bag, her hands thrown into the air. “Well, go on, just tell me… Tell me this amazing news you have for me.”
“Thank you,” his smile soon returned to his visage. “I fully intended to.” Sarcasm fluttered in his voice as he straightened out his pants and took a seat on her bed.
“Drum roll, please!” Immediately he began beating an imaginary drum in his lap. “Your brilliant friend- yes, that is me, Kang Daesung- has found you temporary work!” His hands raised in the air, thoroughly pleased with himself as if he were the most generous humanitarian in the world.

Satsuki’s eyes narrowed suspectly at this proclamation. Something about the offer felt fundamentally queer to her.
“Temporary work, huh?”
“Uh-huh. It’s only a one night gig, but the pay is pretty solid.”
“Who’s it for?”
“An up-and-coming painter in the Korean fine arts community, Dong Youngbae.”
She scoffed at the thought before grabbing hold of her guitar once more, returning to the gentle strumming of the strings.
“What? He’s a really amazing artist. Photographing him is right up your alley!”
“Pass.”
“Wait. Why? This is a good opportunity for your Suki! You could use the exposure, and obviously you could use the money,” Daesung encouraged, right before shooting a finger in the direction of the crumpled up bills stuffed in her sweatpants.
“Opportunity? Up my alley? Please, don’t make me laugh,” She finally spoke up, putting her light jam session on pause.
“But-” He began, and she shot him down the moment he spoke.
“Is he straight?”
“Yes.”
“Is he hyper-masculine?”
“Yes, but he’s good looking.”
“Is he conservative?”
“Fairly...”
“Like I said- pass.”

Settling back down into the security of the bag, she grabbed hold of a half-empty bottle of Jameson, proceeding to drink straight from it. Daesung watched in a bit of disgust and perhaps a minuscule amount of amazement while she chugged the liquor down to a quarter before tossing it aside. A dense, bothersome sigh escaped Daesung’s lips, disappointed in the person his friend had become. She was no longer the 7-year-old, happy-go-lucky girl he had met during childhood. Their long-standing kinship was the only aspect that held empathy for her- but his tolerance for her manners was running dangerously low. Tussling his fingers through his hair, he made one last effort to exercise the last bit of patience he had left. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“And why would something like this make me happy?” She answered, ignorantly unaware of his grievance stricken expression. “Because some pretty boy needs someone to make him look good on a front cover? So now he is digging at the bottom of society's barrel for my assistance?” She mocked, chuckling to herself at the very thought, with zero consideration for her confidante.
“What a fuckin-”
A loud smack to the back of the head interrupted her sentence. Silence captured them, and she reached a comforting hand to ease the pain of soreness.

“No… Because I thought you were suffering in this tiny studio alone because you have been jobless for months. You are one of the most talented LGBT photographers in Tokyo, but...But you’ve been blacklisted, and you fail to realize that your piss-poor attitude got you here, not your presentation! And I finally found someone willing to take a chance on you because I’m the one who put my reputation on the line to get you this job!” She flinched under the scrutinizing truth of his words, hanging her head low, allowing the coverage of her bangs to shelter her disheartened expression.

“I...I promised your mother on the day that we put her in the ground that I would always look after you like an older brother should…”

Fuming, he bit down on his bottom tier to stop it from quivering to gather his thoughts. His eyes roamed from the silent woman to the dusty, facedown picture frame. He lifted it to set it properly, taking the time to allow his subconscious the privilege to stroll down memory lane to the day it had been made. Satsuki, her mother, and his family had taken this photo during the lunar new year. His lips weakly extended into a bittersweet smile only to have his eyes betray him, lightly misting over as that smile became a dry, desolate one.
“Looks like I’ve done a pretty shitty job...”

The heaviness of his words weighed upon her more than he would ever know. It amazed even herself how far gone she’d allowed the pieces of her happiness and humanity to slip away. She knew what she should’ve said was ‘Thank you for visiting me,’ for no one else had. ‘Thank you for thinking of my well being, for you are favored amongst the remaining handful of friends I have left.’ But she didn’t. Only her heartfelt appreciation should’ve shown for his kindness, but it substituted with ungracious sarcasm.
A low buzz vibrated in the chest pocket of Daesung’s pin-striped dress shirt. Peeling his phone out, he read over the text and quickly disregarded it, shoving the device back in the compartment. His focus was drawn back to her when she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry to have burdened you...You should go now...”
A long breath was drawn out as he stood on his feet, no longer in the mood to argue with her. “I’m sorry for my intrusion. I just wanted to help.”
Sincere to his intent, he reached in his pantsuit pocket to retrieve the invite to the gig and placed it on the nightstand. “We’ll talk later when you're feeling better, okay?”
He smiled at her even though he met with no reply, just a quiet nod. Giving her shoulder a firm squeeze, he bent down to her level and placed a soft kiss on the back of her injured head. He turned, preparing to take his leave, but stopped in the center of the room. He looked over his shoulder, wearing the brilliant smile he’d always paraded.
“Hey, Suki… Let’s greet each other with kind words and open hearts next time. I’ll even treat you to dinner if you’re nice to me.”

Peering at her through the darkness, he could barely make out the solemn figure sunken into the bean bag. Even though she wasn’t looking at him directly, he could feel the tiny smile from underneath the curtain of her long, ebony bangs. That in itself was enough to give him hope that she would be okay.

“Until then, please be well, Suki...bye-bye,” Daesung waved a last farewell and exited the apartment, leaving behind his melancholy companion.

She sat there cloaked in the darkness of her flat for what seemed like minutes when in actuality, an hour had already come and gone. Silence engulfed her, holding her hostage to her convictions. It was only when a furious rumble in her stomach protested with the hunger that she came back to her senses. Her mind, weary from replaying the conversation that she’d had with Daesung prior, placed her in a state of fatigue. Pushing the guitar aside, she stood up and made her way over to the kitchen- only to be greeted with an empty refrigerator. A single Sapporo beer was the only item in the house that promised to stall her stomach from the thought of starvation. It seemed like ages since she last had sufficient funds to purchase groceries.
“Fuck...”

Regret finally sank in as she wished she’d been nicer to Daesung, knowing she would’ve at least been treated to a free meal. Then again, she wished she’d been kinder to him knowing his objective was purely the betterment of her well being. Closing her eyes, Satsuki rested her head against her forearm, using the fridge for support. Discouraged, her jaw tightened, and her fist clenched to restrain the tears threatening to fall. An eerie aura crept into her heart as if all the happiness in the world had just vanished. Contrary to the warm spring season beyond her walls, everything around her just felt black. The once fluorescent light she possessed, burnt out by the harsh realities of the predicament that she’d created.

Exhausted and hungry, she decided it was best to sleep to avoid the hunger pains that were ready to surface at a moment’s notice. Flopping herself onto her bed, she stared up at the ceiling, allowing her mind to go blank for just a few minutes to escape the reality. Sleep, yes, just rest was all she needed to break away from this world. So why wouldn’t her mind allow her the kindness of doing so? After 15 minutes of uncomfortable tossing and turning, she’d made it her mission to fall asleep. She’d finally slipped off into a decent slumber until a sudden, unnerving vision came.

“Don’t you dare come near her again, you freak!” The man shouted in a fit of rage as he grabbed the teenager’s wrist, hurling her back to his side. He tightened his grip to restrict her from pursuing the frightened female fleeing towards the front door. Tears escaped her face as her outstretched hand failed to reach the shape of the figure. “You keep that abomination away from my family, you hear me?!”

A frightened gasp erupted from her, causing Satsuki to launch herself upward. Heavy, strained breaths filled her lungs as if she were underwater. The blackness of her studio was the only greeting she received, yet it did nothing to calm her frantic mind. She gathered her arms around her knees and tucked her head in between them, sheltering herself from the anarchy of her subconscious. She placed her hands over her ears, hoping to stifle the rambunctious, turbulent voices. She prayed that they would silence themselves as they always had in the past. Drowning in the overwhelming flood of despair, it couldn’t have been better timing for a small, saving grace to appear in the form of a text message from an unknown number.

The slight tint of blue popped up on the screen, snagging her attention. The message read: ‘Good evening Miss Nayakama; I’m Dong Youngbae. I was referred over to you by a mutual friend. I wanted to thank you in advance for your assistance. I'm extremely grateful you were available to take part in the project on such short notice. I’m looking forward to working with you tonight. Thanks again!’

“Fuck it.”

Notes