When I first started this blog, my motivations were simple, perhaps even a bit selfish.
In those long, humid, and seemingly endless late nights in Tokyo, I developed a habit. After finishing work, I’d light a cigarette and hide behind the dim glow of my phone screen, searching for gay erotica that could touch my soul. To me, those words weren't just sensory comfort; they were rare moments in this concrete jungle where I felt truly understood. I wanted to build my own little "library" in a corner of the internet—a place to organize the works I loved, the ones I could revisit and savor whenever I needed to.
But as the collection grew, a restlessness began to stir within me. Reading other people's stories, I couldn't help but hold them up as a mirror to my own life.
As a gay man navigating Tokyo's nightlife, selling my body in front of a camera, and surviving in the cracks between two cultures, I suddenly realized: my own life experience is, in many ways, more complex and unique than much of the fiction I was reading. The warmth exchanged in clubs, the sweat spilled on the baseball field, the tug-of-war between family expectations and self-identity—it all felt like a voice whispering to me: "Why don't you try writing it yourself?"
So, I picked up the pen of "memory" and decided to start writing. Not just to share, but to leave a mark of this absurd yet undeniably real youth.
I have to be honest with you about many of the stories currently hosted here: they are not my own work. Any piece marked with a "Reprint" tag belongs to the original author. I know that in the digital world, unauthorized re-sharing is disrespectful and a violation of rights, and for that, I feel a profound sense of shame. However, most authors of gay erotica choose to remain anonymous or hide their identities, vanishing into the mists of the internet. I’ve tried to reach out to some for permission, but my messages often go unanswered, or I simply can't find a way to contact them at all.
Through these words, I want to offer my deepest apologies to those unknown creators. If you find your work here and feel uncomfortable, please let me know, and I will handle it immediately. I organize these texts not for profit or out of malice, but out of a private, heartfelt admiration for great writing, hoping to preserve these moving emotions in my little corner. Additionally, the illustrations paired with the articles are mostly random finds from the internet. They are meant only to set the mood and have no direct connection to the specific content—please don't over-interpret them.
You might have noticed that everything I collect here, and everything I plan to create, is in Chinese. This might sound strange, considering I am "technically" Japanese now. But strictly speaking, my formal Chinese education stopped after elementary school. After moving to Japan, I began a long journey of self-study so I wouldn't lose my mother tongue. Fortunately, I insisted on speaking Chinese with my parents at home, which kept my sense of the language alive.
Today, while I won't claim to be a master of the language, I can at least guarantee that my storytelling is clear and my emotions are sincere. If you notice my Chinese sounds a bit "off" or has a "Japanese accent" while reading, please tell me. I genuinely welcome your guidance. To me, Chinese is more than a tool; it is the final anchor of belonging in the depths of my soul.
Although I have naturalized and am a Japanese citizen by law, in terms of cultural identity and ethnic belonging, I know clearly that I am Chinese. This identity doesn't come from politics, but from the weight of the written word. I love the grand scale of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the delicate nuances of Dream of the Red Chamber, and I've even been captivated by the raw humanity in Pinhua Baojian and Jin Ping Mei. To me, the depth and breadth of Chinese classical literature is like an unfathomable ocean.
I also deeply admire masters like Lu Xun, Lin Yutang, and Zhang Ailing, as well as contemporary voices like Yu Hua and Su Tong. Their writing possesses a unique vitality—a heaviness that only comes from being washed by the soil and history. At the risk of offending my Japanese friends, while Japanese literature has its own exquisite and melancholic charm, in my heart, it often feels like a "younger brother" learning from the vastness of Chinese literature. Five thousand years of history is a cultural foundation capable of breeding miracles that stun the world.
If we can connect through these words—whether you want to critique my stories, talk about the trivia of life, or share your emotional troubles—you are more than welcome. I love the warmth transmitted through a screen.
The only topic I refuse to touch is "politics." My education isn't high; my highest level in Japan was graduating from a high school that, in the Chinese system, would be a vocational school. Back then, my head was filled with baseball and part-time jobs; my grades were nothing to brag about. My knowledge of politics is pitifully small. I only have a surface-level understanding of the complex historical entanglements between China and Japan. If you want to discuss serious political issues, I won't have much of value to say, and it would only expose my shallowness.
In fact, this is the reality for most young people in Japan. From my observation, the Japanese education system provides very limited guidance on history and politics. When someone at my educational level can feel the "shallowness" of those around them, you can imagine how severe the general political apathy is in Japanese society. There is no soil for political discussion here; people see it as a hassle or a taboo, and platforms for exchange are few and far between. As for cross-strait relations or other geopolitical issues, I have only one thing to say: I am Japanese now, so you probably shouldn't care too much about a Japanese person's opinion anyway, right?
Finally, let’s talk about my profession. I know that in many traditional Chinese moral views, my current work—as a host and a gay adult film actor—is seen as "lowly" or even despicable. I don't intend to defend myself. In fact, I won't even hide that I was involved in "compensated dating" as early as middle school. These labels might bring me contempt, but I don't plan to argue with anyone about whether my choices are right. What I want to say is that while I am in an industry that looks "fallen," I can say with a clear conscience that I have never hurt anyone.
These jobs are simply my choices for survival and achieving my goals at this stage. I know better than anyone that this industry is full of harsh realities—exploitation by employers, the crisis of aging, and the ever-present risks of STIs. I won't stay here forever. I have my backup plan, and I have my dreams. I am, after all, the "young boss" of a Chinese restaurant; there is a steaming family business waiting for me to protect it. Even if I don't inherit the restaurant, I have an ideal of becoming a male nurse or a dental hygienist. I want to do work that truly warms and cares for others.
This is me, Kiriya Harimoto—a soul sweating through Tokyo nights and finding an exit through the world of Chinese words. I wrote this introduction so you would know the real, contradictory, and hard-working person standing behind these erotic texts. I hope that in this virtual world, we can drop our prejudices and become true friends.
Thank you for reading this far. May we all find our own peace in this chaotic world.
LOVE & PEACE.