Sex (セックス, Sekkusu) is the 59th chapter of the Gantz manga, written and illustrated by Hiroya Oku. Contentsshow Cover Page An unknown woman standing upright wearing a Gantz String Bikini and Gantz Suit Boots, Gloves and X-gun holster with an X-gun in it. She is also seen holding a X-Shotgun. Download Gantz Season 2 Sub Indo Batch 360p, 480p, 720p. Gantz S2 Sub Indo Meownime, Gantz 2nd Stage Sub Indo, Gantz Second Stage BD 1-13 Sub Indo.
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I was on my way home and in an excellent mood. Our team the, Green Rockets had smashed the ever loving shit out of the guest team, the visiting Taisho Dragons. The crowd was cheering and many people were drinking beers and carrying on. Some people had even carried a few of my team mates around on their shoulders. They had tried to look for me, but I had seen it coming and dipped into the dugout once the game clock had hit the 2 minute mark. I had to hide in the dugout until the rowdies calmed down a bit and due to my being a American blending into the crowd out of uniform was out of the question. One of the oddest parts of the event was the large amount of fairly open drinking at a high school-college league game, as most of the people there weren't over 20.
I mean it was strange because the image I had of 'proper' Japanese young people didn't match up to the realities. If one was to go by manga all of them were just as properly polite as can be and never cussed, drank, had premarital sex and were obsessed with nothing but getting good grades. The reality of the matter is that about 1/3 of the young people here were borderline drunk and 1/2 of the rest were at least buzzed. There were a few, in the back smoking what smelled like chronic and I'm sure there were a few shrooms available if one had a taste for them. The truth of the matter was that while many of them were obsessed with finding good employment and most Japanese valued open politeness; they could be as nasty in both the mean spirited and freakishly deviant sense of the world as anyone else.
'Yasu!?..Where is Yasu?. Did he run off again?' hollered Isaki Dombachi, our shortstop having just been released from the shoulders of the crowd. There were a few dirty finger prints on his uniform including around his posterior.
'I haven't seen Yasu kun since the last run. I'm sure he hasn't gone home, he said he would join us for a drink at Miko's. He's probably hiding until the mob disperses' replied Oda Nobehada our primary batter. We called call him Nobu san in reference to his supposed ancestor Oda Nobunaga the unifier of Japan (or at least one of the 3). He was one of my better if not best friend, who was unfortunately responsible for my nickname by association. See Yasuke was the first black samurai, as Oda Nobunaga had taken him off some Jesuits who had enslaved him. He fought in some battles for about 2 years before Nobunaga's betrayal and the ebony warriror had vanished into history.
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'Doesn't he like the adoration of the crowd? Or is it he still scared of Japanese girls? He does know all the freaky cute ones will already have left with the real men. Does he want to stay a virgin?' followed Joseke Kimpachi, our right infielder and our team's supposed ladies man. In truth I'd rather not have my buns pinched by half drunk teen girls and the occasional forty year old man. I'd found out 'its not freaky or improper if no one can see you do it' is the name of the game around these parts.
'In which case you might as well be in another province with how long you'll be waiting to lose your cherry, wont you? Yasu kun's mitt is here, with the game ball inside which means he is changing in the shower room'. Good old Nobu, good for a laugh and covering my ass. It's not that I mind the occasional pat on the behind in the locker room or on the field. It's the fact these fans take things a bit too far. I mean I understand that not many Black Americans or Black people in general are in Japan, but why did everyone want to touch me?
They knew it would offend me to do so to my face, but if I couldn't see them because they are beneath me in crowd it suddenly became alright in their minds. It's not even mostly women who have pinched my behind. As often as we do win I have learned a good routine to avoid the worst of it and I'll come out with the team and shake a few hands and maybe sign an autograph. Yes I'll sign autographs at a sub college level baseball game, because any Black American athlete that is playing in Japan must be famous and important right?. At least the locals have stopped asking me if I'm a basketball star, or gods forgive them gangster rapper.
Though to be fair under different circumstances and a less commercialist world I might be considered a minor celebrity, but not because I am a fairly good pitcher in pre- collegiate level baseball. I didn't even get a sports scholarship, though I probably could, I play baseball because I like it. Everyone seems to look at my 5.8 height and forget I finished high school at age 16 and got a damn near full scholarship to Princeton for chemistry. I was in Japan because I am somewhat of an Otaku and Japanophile and I lucked out in terms of US Japanese politics. See there was some big political scandal and a good way to 'improve cross Atlantic' relations was to foster cultural exchange. In ancient times those dignitaries and their children were basically hostages, in these days it meant glorified working vacations.
I was especially lucky that I was black, yes affirmative action favors the prepared. They needed Americans pronto and quickly ran through a checklist of who would best suit the look they were going for. Apparently there were very few students of color who both excelled in chemistry and were interested in going to Japan and far fewer who had already graduate high school at 16. Being better than average at baseball and speaking/writing Japanese was a bonus. The best part of it was since I had already finished high school I wouldn't have to attend in Japan. Oh the Japanese were sneaky I would get an apartment coincidentally near 3 of their schools with the best chemistry departments and what amounted to free access to their labs and libraries.
I would also get a small stipend to live off and a work permit so I might gain additional funds. Such a permit was excellent for employment in the chemistry labs in said schools or in nearby law enforcement labs (yeah real subtle). It had been a hard sell to get my parents to sign off on letting me live by myself, however they knew how driven and responsible I was.
Not like it wasn't even the first time I had lived for a few months away from home, those would be the baseball or science camps I attended when I was younger. However, once that hurdle was leaped I was basically in what for me was paradise. I was being paid to play baseball, run lab experiments, read manga and play video games. Though I do occasionally work; unless I decide to be wasteful or greedy I could easily live off what I received from the government and occasionally my family and have enough left over to have fun.
Yes, it was a wonderful life at least so far. I emerged from hiding as I thought it was about time to join in with my friends as the mellowing sounds of the crowd outside our locker room indicated the threat to my dignity (and the soft skin around my posterior) was safe at least from anyone not on my team.
'So have our furry friends returned to their lairs?' I asked in a mock commentary in my best Steve Erwin voice. I'd notice for some reason He is really popular in Japan despite being dead for a few years.
'Yasu please don't disparage our lovely supporters in that way' Nobu mildly mock scolded. He was one of the first to basically tell me it came with the territory. Though he did not receive quite as many uninvited hands as I did.
'Well he isn't wrong about how they act when fresh, young succulent meat is present'. Kinpachi deadpanned while rubbing his naked posterior, which actually did display a number of slightly feminine sized hand prints.
'I'm honestly surprised all of you came back to get changed with how the lionesses were prowling. (lionesses being our slang for said cougars and M.I.L.F's who seemed to be disproportionately present). I figured a few of you would have skipped off to score another home run'. Came my sardonic quip. Which was a rather obvious euphemism for fornication.
'Hey the ladies can wait, till after we celebrate at Miko's, Sake is on me. By the way I gotta say that 3rd inning shut out was a masterpiece' said Konade Otsumaira our relief pitcher.
'Besides, Yasu we got their numbers. If you are nice I might share a few with you. I'll even give a few tips. Might be a proper mauling will help you finally loosen up and reach your peak performance'. With that I gave him a snap with the towel aimed at the spot on his rump with the most marks.
'I wonder how many of those numbers are real, I mean after they saw who they were marking they likely remembered their husbands'. Which was one reason the 'lionesses' were considered a bit risky. One of our teammates had to jump out of a 2nd story window at a 'love motel' because he got a bit too fond of her 'mauling'. Said husband fortunately felt sorry for him while noticing him hanging butt naked from the awning. He only snapped a few pictures and settled for the embarrassment factor. Yes this was an interesting culture.
'Anyhow. I'm off to get my better clothes and probably get a bite to eat. We are on for 8: 00 pm right?' Everyone nodded their heads and gave our teams familiar grunt/chant. I joined in and headed out the side entrance.
As I left the field I passed fans, and everyone was in good cheer. Fortunately, as the mosh pit moment was gone, they just slapped me high fives. In good nature I gave out fist bumps (and the obligatory 'secret soul' fancy daps), a few autographs and I pretended not to notice that a few women have touched my bare arm. At least they are playing it off as a casual brush. I was almost at the end of the fire line and I hadn't been pinched, what good luck. Nope spoke too soon, but the offenders are at least female this time and they only pinched my arm.
'Hello Marcus san, it's nice to see you again. Congratulations on your 3rd inning shut down' said a pair of young women near simultaneously. Both of them were wearing our team jacket.
Said jacket covered semi shredded fairly tight tank tops and cut jeans which exposed their g strings and bras. They were somewhat flat chested, had a bit too much makeup on and wore that somewhat ridiculous super tan I've noticed. I would say they were somewhat closer to our teams standard age of 20, which some of our less classy teammates would define them as 'jackals'. Those are younger women who will 'work' their way through a team and usually congregate in numbers. 'Hyenas' are women of any age who deliberately went after specific players with the intention of serious relationships, usually be agreeing with or smiling in response to everything they said or did.
I faced each of them and pretended to be tempted at the sight before me, by roving my eyes across them before genuinely smiling. ' Thanks for the compliment. It's good to see you Isa san and Nika san as well'. I gave each of them a brisk hug and a kiss on the cheek. I declined to date either of them, not because I felt disgusted by groupies or I thought they were ugly. I personally had nothing against them or premarital sex in general. But I reasoned that I should actually like any person I chose to sleep with. And yes I realize that idealism would probably fly out the window if I ran into some really hot woman. Of course as I'm not desperate and super models rarely come to sub collegiate league games, there's little chance of that happening. That was of course irrelevant, they had paid to watch me play and genuinely wished me well. If a hug and some kind words made them happy I'll gladly do so.
As I exited the stadium I checked my phone which I had just turned back on. Apparently there was some kind of shoot out that was in progress in the shopping district. Across the street from the stadium I noticed a car blaring loud music. At first I thought it was the usual delinquent wanna be thugs rolling around blaring Japanese hardcore rap. Of course such music was just about as 'authentic' as the industry 'music' I heard back in Harlem. Of course I was shocked by 2 things almost instantly. One was the music was in English, but it was the second that threw me for a loop. The flashy, somewhat tacky low rider that was hosting a soundtrack very similar to Snoop Dog was occupied by a group of 5 young black men dressed in stereotypical hood wear. Four were inside the car while one was walking back from Mr. Osha the noodle vendor.
Near the car was a group of 5 young women dressed like college students. Sizing them up I realized they were 'rappers' or I should say 'Industry musicians' on tour. Their car was decked out with speakers and the word Pantara was plastered over the car and some of their clothes. So they came to our game to advertise, pick up some age appropriate women and have a good time. I could respect that, and having decided they weren't a threat I made my way over to speak to the first new black people I had seen since I landed in Osaka 4 months ago. I had been in Japan about 7 months so far and figured I'd try out different places. I figured I would get the latest on what's going on in the states and give them a few pointers on meeting girls, especially avoiding jail bait (Japan doesn't fuck around with foreigners concerning drugs and minors).
What I was not expecting was the incident in town square to cause as much blowback as it did. One moment I was 12 feet from the tricked out Impala and about to yell what's up. The next minute I noticed a three car pile up as a mini truck failed to yield to a fleet of ems vehicles speeding by. Of course the Impala or the people near it wouldn't hear the screeching tires and with the driver as engrossed as he was with flirting he wouldn't be watching his rear view mirror. There wasn't much I could do for those in the car, but maybe I could help those out of it. The gentleman who was carrying the noodles saw the incoming disaster and pulled one of the young women back, while shouting. He was especially clear thinking I noted because he threw his phone at the window of the car, shocking his friends out of exchanging phone numbers. Unfortunately for them they went into shock after noticing the incoming careening vehicles, not that there was much they could do. Fortunately for the 2 women who were standing in front of the impala I turned laterally in my jump and collided with both of them thereby knocking them out of the way. Unfortunately I was not fast enough to clear the second inbound vehicle I did not see.
I remember a crushing force and small flight. There is also a brief memory of the action around me. One of the brothers, the one with the Pantera shirt went right through the windshield. After that I remember my mind splintering. I was then looking at my self being transferred like in one those sci fi movies I liked watching. Only this was like watching a laser printer operate. I came into being one strip at a time unable to move. Around me were a bunch of Japanese people and few 'foreigners' from other parts of Asia. I notice a tall young man of around my age, wearing what looked like a stylish leisure suit with a Where's Waldo shirt. The first thing he does is laugh for joy, like some Saturday morning cartoon villain who just defeated the hero for the first time ever. I then notice a pretty woman with a knitted 1950's flapper cap covering most of her face. I believed she might be a national youth supermodel whose name started with R. This was confirmed when a bunch of people present almost flashed mobbed her, naming her Rieka.
There was a ball in the center of the room and everyone seemed a bit scared, to be honest so was I. Then I notice the same transference happen to a few other people. Most were quite and a few were chattering in Japanese or their own languages. I recognized 3 of the rappers, but I choose not to speak just yet. Then the too pretty tall dude in the suit said nothing but kept starring at the ball like it was somehow communicating with him mystically. I was about to ask questions, when another person transferred in. The first thing the newcomer did was yell 'Izumi. Izumi you Bastard' like even his name was a curse, charge him and grab him by his collar. The man, Izumi didn't seem worried and gave him what we in New York called a classic 2 piece combo. That is a gut punch and an uppercut.
This 'two piece combo' apparently was enough for a KO and the smaller youth collapsed onto the floor in front of the ball. 'Don't Get Involved', 'So weak', and 'Did that combo come with a fries and coke' are words muttered from the crowd. I admit I laughed at the last one, yes it's mean but the joke was funny. Then the Ball lit up and started playing some cheesy 70's music I've heard a few times on tv. I noticed everyone is shocked including myself but Izumi's face hadn't changed at all.