“Let me see you shit.”
• 5 •
DECEMBER 2
SHIBUYA: YY, ¥40,000
SHIBUYA: HOMELESS GUY (?) ¥8,000
Once I started standing in front of the Jiz statue, I was happy. Of course there were times when the cook at the restaurant across the way would throw water at me or passersby would hurl insults, but the sensation of actually making my way through the world on my own, with my own body, was something I never got to experience at my day job. And I was thrilled to be able to bank all the money I earned and not have someone else skimming off my profits. This, I believed, was precisely what it meant to be in business. No doubt about it, the Marlboro Hag had enjoyed it so much, she hadn’t wanted to quit.
I really hadn’t expected the old bag to relinquish her turf so readily. After I left Eguchi that night I headed straight back to the Jiz statue. Eguchi had been such a disgusting sadist, I was certain the Marlboro Hag had tricked me into going off with him.
“What a pervert!” I exclaimed when I saw her. She was squatting down on the roadside like a child and drawing something with a rock. The sound the rock made dragging over the asphalt was like fingernails on a blackboard. She looked up when she heard me and laughed.
“So did ya do it?”
“I did, and I imagine I won’t be permitted back in that hotel anytime soon!”
“Well, you’re braver than I am,” she said, as she got to her feet. “If you want my turf, you can have it.” It all seemed a little too easy.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve had enough. I can’t keep up with Eguchi’s demands. I think this means it’s time for me to retire.”
The next night the Marlboro Hag was not to be found in front of the Jiz statue. Such a smooth exit and such a stunning debut. It was all so laughable.
But even so, working the corner all night long was hard, and I was always exhausted the next day at the firm. The upshot was that I hardly did any real work. About all I did was clip interesting articles from the economics newspapers. I figured I could give them to Yoshizaki. Since I didn’t have to pay for the photocopies, I copied all the articles and compiled them into scrapbooks. Soon I had enough to fill three notebooks. Other than that I wrote seductive letters, birthday cards, and other such notes, all the while pretending to be hard at work on my reports. Moreover, I made a habit of slipping out of the research office and taking naps in the empty conference room just as before. And since my own desk was covered in mountains of papers, I ate my lunch in the ladies’ restroom. People in the office began to avoid me more and more. Once while I was in the elevator I overheard a woman whisper behind me, “I hear she’s known as the office ghost.” But I really didn’t care what anyone else thought of me. I was only real at night. The hope of achieving a balance was now just a farce.
One day in December after I had met Yoshizaki and had holed up with him in a hotel, I was walking back to my spot in front of the Jiz statue when I pulled my wallet out of my shoulder bag and gave it an appraising squeeze. I was content. Yoshizaki gave me ¥30,000 each time we met, but tonight, after I gave him the scrapbook full of clippings that I had made him as a present, he gave me an extra ¥10,000. With a reaction like that, I was determined to continue clipping articles for him. That’s when I noticed that a man was already standing in front of the Jiz.
“Hey, girlie.”
He was wearing black pleated pants with a white bomber jacket. A lion was embroidered in gold thread on the front of the jacket. His hair was close-cropped. I picked up the pace, thinking I had a customer.
“Were you waiting for me?” I asked cheerily. “Want to fool around?”
“Fool around? With you?”
The man laughed derisively and ran his hands through his short hair.
“I don’t charge that much.”
“Just hold up a minute. You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
The man thrust both hands into his pants pockets causing the front of his pants to swell up like a paper lantern.
“I’m with the Sht Organization that runs these parts. You’re new, aren’t you? We got word down at the office that there was a new girl in front of the Jiz, so I came by to check it out. How long have you been here?”
Once I realized he was a member of a yakuza gang who had come to extort money from me, I put up my guard and took a few steps back. But his whole demeanor and his manner of speech were surprisingly gentle.
“I’ve been here for two months. I took over from the Marlboro Hag.”
“That old lady? She’s dead, you know.”
“No kidding? How’d she die?”
“I guess she was sick, wasn’t she. It got so bad that she couldn’t even stand here.”
The man answered brusquely as if it were clearly no concern of his.
“But that’s yesterday’s news. What’s more important is for you to think about counting on my organization for protection. It’s dangerous out here for a woman alone. Why just the other day a hotel call girl was roughed up bad by her customer. He smashed her skull in. You look the wrong way at some of these fellows and they go ballistic. It’s too dangerous for a woman without protection.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.”
I clutched my bag, worried about my money, and shook my head.
“You think that now because you haven’t seen what I’ve seen. But it just takes one bad customer and then it’s too late. My organization will look out for you. And it’ll only cost you fifty thousand yen a month. Cheap, don’t you think?”
Fifty thousand yen? He had to be kidding! There was no way I’d agree to that.
“I’m very sorry, but I don’t make enough to cover your fee. I can’t afford to pay fifty thousand yen.”
The yakuza looked me square in the face. I could tell he was trying to size me up, so I held his gaze. That made him laugh.
“All right then. Let’s just see how it goes. I’ll let you think it over. But you’ll be hearing from me again.”
“Got it.”
The yakuza headed down the street toward Shinsen Station. I knew he’d be back. There had to be some way I could get out of this, I thought to myself, running my tongue over my lips. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the yakuza would try to horn in on someone working alone. I assumed they were testing me. I pulled my notebook out and in the darkness tried to add up the money I’d made over the last two months. It came to about ¥50,000 a month. I certainly didn’t want to see all that going to the yakuza. I was reluctant because I was still only halfway to meeting my goal of a hundred million yen.
“Hey, you! Are you in business or what?”
I was so engrossed in adding up my income that I failed to notice the man standing right in front of me. For a minute I thought the yakuza had come back with his buddies, and I looked around suspiciously. But the man standing in front of me was clearly a homeless person. He was around fifty with a blackish coat over a pair of gray uniform-type pants. He held two grimy-looking cloth bags and was pulling a rickety shopping cart.
“I’m in business.” I hastily stashed my notebook in my bag.
“What happened to the old lady who used to be here?”
“She died. She was sick.”
The homeless man gasped. “You’re kidding! I miss coming by one time and then she’s dead, just like that? She was a nice lady too. Real kind.”
“Mister, were you one of the Marlboro Hag’s customers? If so, I can take care of you.”
“Really?”
“You’re homeless, aren’t you?”
The clothes the man was wearing were not as filthy as the stuff he was carting around. The man flinched when he heard my question and hung his head.
“Yeah. So what?”
“I don’t mind.”
Homeless or not, a customer was a customer. I nodded to him again in agreement and started to make arrangements. The man let out a sigh of relief and surveyed the area around him.
“The thing is, I don’t have any money for a hotel, so the old lady would do me in an empty lot by the station.”
An empty lot? This was a bit much, but if we could just get it over without a fuss I figured it wouldn’t be too bad. So long as money changes hands, who cares where it happens?
“How much will you pay?”
“About eight thousand.”
“How much did you pay the old woman?”
“Sometimes three thousand, sometimes five. But you’re young. I’d feel bad if I didn’t pay a bit more.”
It was nice to hear someone call me young. I held up eight fingers, my spirits boosted.
“Okay, then. Eight it is.”
We headed off toward Shinsen Station side by side. When we got to a level spot overlooking the station, about halfway up the hillside, there was an open lot. It looked like it had been cleared for a new building. Scaffolding had been set up and building materials lay in piles. It was as good a spot as any. I took off my trench coat in the shadow of the scaffolding. The homeless man set his bags off to the side and whispered in my ear.
“Let me do it from the back.”
“Fine.”
I handed the man a condom, turned around, placed my hands on the scaffolding, and tilted my hips up. “It’s cold, so be quick about it.”
The man slipped inside me. What kind of man was he? Where was he from? So long as I got paid, I didn’t care one way or the other. My feelings were now that simple, that strong. It made me happy when I realized it. The man thrust himself into me insistently before finally finishing. I took the packet of tissues I’d gotten at Shibuya Station—compliments of the Takefuji Loan Company—and used them to clean myself. The man pulled up his pants and said, “Thanks. You’re really nice. I appreciate that. I’ll find you again when I have some money.”
Then he pressed a wad of dirty bills in my hand. I smoothed the wrinkles out of the bills as I counted them; sure enough, there were eight of them. I watched the homeless man walk away from the empty lot and put the bills in my wallet. The used condom that he had thrown down in the trampled, withered grass was one I’d picked up in the hotel room I’d visited earlier with Yoshizaki. That’s right, I’ll trash the place, I’ll run havoc through the streets; I’ll do as I please! I looked up at the night sky—the cold, cold sky. The tree branches trembled but I felt exhilarated. I had never been so free or so happy. I could satisfy any demand a man might make of me. I was a good woman.
When I returned to the Jiz statue later that night I saw a woman standing on the turf I had rightfully inherited from the Marlboro Hag. To make matters worse, she was a foreigner. I was furious. But as soon as I got closer, I saw it was Yuriko. For her part, however, Yuriko had no idea who I was. She stared at me blankly, just as dim-witted as she had been in high school. I scrutinized her. How proud she had once been of her voluptuous breasts. Now her ample chest just looked shapeless, even matronly. The wrinkles at the edges of her eyes were deep and caked with foundation. To add insult to injury, the former beauty had a double chin. But there she was in a red leather coat, wearing a flashy silver ultra-miniskirt. I wanted to burst out laughing but somehow managed to control myself.
“Yuriko!”
Yuriko stared at me in amazement. She still hadn’t figured out who I was. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you remember?”
I’ve become such a spectacular woman, Yuriko doesn’t recognize me. On the other hand, Yuriko looks hideous. It made me feel good. I had to laugh. A cold north wind was blowing. Yuriko looked chilled and clutched her skimpy leather coat to her chest. I wasn’t fazed by cold winds or anything of the sort. After all, I’d just come back from taking care of business in an open field. I doubt you could do anything like that, you former beauty. Slut! Hell, you may have been born a whore, and you may still be turning tricks for all I know, but my God you’re ugly now.
“Might we have met at a club somewhere?” Yuriko asked, in a prissy voice.
“Guess again. My, you’ve grown old. Look at the lines on your face! And all that flab! I hardly recognized you at first!”
Yuriko frowned and craned her neck to get a better look at me. The way she moved was still exactly the same. She was so used to being the center of attention that she had a regal way about her most mundane movements. She’d been so beautiful, so celebrated, that people naturally wanted to pick on her.
“When we were young we were like night and day, you and me. But just look at us now. We’re not that different. I suppose you could say we’re the same—or maybe it would be more accurate to put you a peg or two lower. What I’d give to show you to your friends now!”
Yuriko stared at me. Yes, in her eyes I could see the hatred she bore me. Eyes that understood every little thing around her, no matter how she tried to feign ignorance. I remembered Yuriko’s older sister. Did she know how ugly Yuriko had grown? I wanted to call her up right away. She had a complex about Yuriko that she could never kick, so I imagined she was off now living a miserable life.
“You’re Kazue Sat, aren’t you?”
Yuriko finally saw through my disguise. She sounded like she was speaking down to me. Unable to check my anger, I gave her a sharp push. My hand sank immediately into her soft flesh.
“You got it! I’m Kazue. It took you long enough. This is my turf, you know. You can’t be picking up johns here.”
“Turf?”
What an idiot. She still hadn’t figured out what I was doing there. I couldn’t believe anyone could actually be that dense. Was it so hard to believe that I would be into prostitution?
“I’m a hooker.”
“Why you, of all people?”
“Well, why you?”
My response seemed to startle Yuriko. She looked as if she were going to stumble, but I asked again.
“So, why do you do it?”
It was a moot question. Ever since she was in junior high school, Yuriko had made her way in the world by toying with men. A bimbo like Yuriko would not have been able to survive without men. I, on the other hand, was a clever girl who could have survived just fine without a man. And yet, here we both were—prostitutes—running into each other in front of the same Jiz statue. Two streams flowing in the same direction. I figured it had to be fate, and that made me happy.
Yuriko started to beg. “Do you think you could let me use this spot on the nights you’re not here?”
Naturally it would be difficult for me to mind the shop here three hundred and sixty-five days a year. No matter how tenuous my existence at the firm was to become, it was not likely that I would ever actually quit. I needed the salary I earned there to support my mother. Besides, far better for Yuriko to borrow my turf occasionally than to have some woman I didn’t know at all poaching it in my absence. And then there was always the question of the yakuzas. I was afraid they would keep hounding me to put up protection money. As I stared at Yuriko’s corpulent body, I began to hatch a plan.
“You want me to let you use my corner?”
“Do you mind?”
“Well, under one condition.” I grabbed Yuriko’s arm. “I don’t mind if you use the corner when I’m not here, but you have to dress like me, see?”
On the nights I couldn’t come, Yuriko would stand in for me—as me. I thought it was brilliant.
• 6 •
DECEMBER 3
SHIBUYA: SOME FOREIGNERS (?), ¥10,000
The day after I met Yuriko, we had a spell of balmy springlike weather. It’s hard to pick up a customer while battling the freezing December winds; frigid weather tends to chill romantic notions. It’s much easier when the nights are warm and the customer is in high spirits. Seeing the good weather, I figured I’d have a good night. One of the interesting aspects of standing on the corner is seeing how the weather and the mood affect business. Every day it’s different. When I worked for the hotel escort agency, I never had an opportunity to make observations like these.
I headed toward the Jiz st
atue in a good mood, humming a song. Once I got there I waited for Yuriko. I only half believed she’d show up. What on earth could she be thinking? I couldn’t even imagine. When we were in high school she stood out from all the rest. She was so beautiful it was difficult even to approach her. And because she was always gazing off into space, clearly focused on nothing, she seemed even more inaccessible. I was always too intimidated to speak to her. It wasn’t that she was absent-minded; she was a master of measuring the subtle differences between herself and others. If someone asked her a question, she’d answer. Otherwise, she kept her mouth clamped shut. That was Yuriko. And I despised the sober self-aware look in her eye. But our cool Yuriko grew ugly as she grew older. Fate chased her down and devoured her. Time has a way of leveling the playing field. As I grew older, I gained a sense of self-worth and superiority. Compared to the lonely impoverished Yuriko, I now had a great job at a great firm. I suppose the fact that I had once been a properly raised lady in a decent family had a lot to do with it. As I stood there thinking that, I wanted to burst out laughing. Decent family! What a joke. It was falling apart.
“Saint Jiz, I’m an entirely different person now. And I’m insanely happy!”
My face wreathed in smiles, I looked up at the Jiz, who was smiling quietly, as if to match my excitement. I fished through my purse for the shiniest ten-yen coin I could find, placed it in front of the statue, and brought my hands together in prayer.
“Saint Jiz, please give me four customers tonight. That’s the goal I’m setting for myself. My mission is to meet my goal. Please do what you can to help me out.”
Before I could even finish my prayer, two student types started walking toward me from Shinsen Station, speaking to each other in subdued tones. I turned back to Jiz. “Hey, quick work! Thanks a million.”
The students noticed me standing there in the dark and looked over at me as if they’d seen a ghost. I called out to them, “Hey, fellas, would one of you like to party?” They looked bewildered and poked each other with their elbows.
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