Asura Girl

by Otaro Maijo

  Lots of new shit!

  God’s Court now in session. Defendant: Round-and-Round Devil. Day Five.

  God’s watching. The Round-and-Round Devil used to kill little kitties & puppies. Now he kills people. So the verdict is the death penalty.

  God has spoken. Kill yourself now!

  Clueless assholes.

  The whole Chofu Armageddon was pointless.

  No, it had a perfectly good point: it was a fucking lot of fun. Fucking lot of fun to watch from a safe distance while a bunch of assholes beat the shit out of each other.

  Five middle school kids were killed in the Armageddon, but turns out they were all innocent—no Round-and-Round among them. Now God’s guilty instead. God should die too.

  Don’t worry, he’s dying.

  If there were a real God, he would never have let Armageddon happen—or let the Round-and-Round Devil live.

  The Round-and-Round Devil is the new God!

  Right you are! I am the new God! Heh heh heh hi hi!

  Log on, Monster Man. What have you got to say for yourself?

  Nothing quite yet. Be patient.

  I’m busy cutting up Child Four, no time to post. And planning for Child Five, and Six. Busy, busy. A monster’s work is never done. I’d love to follow V of H but I don’t have time now.☹

  Oh, I’m following all right, you fake fuck.

  And you can bet I’d do Four and Five if could find them here in Chofu. Who doesn’t like a challenge? You bet your ass I’d do them. But you really can’t improvise when it comes to killing kids. Rush things and it gets all fucked up. Still, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, ending like that with the one still alive. I just need one more chance.

  But probably not right now. Looks like Armageddon’s over, so no cover—and another body would stir things up, get them searching house to house. Way too risky.

  But fuck, what to do about all this nervous energy?

  La di da di da di da…

  Shit! I’m hungry. Where the fuck is that woman?

  Maybe I should post after all, something like: Live from the Yoshiba funeral, victims of the Round-and-Round. Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu.

  Better I say the prayers than some idiot priest. Achieve nirvana, and that’s an order! Can’t quite believe the husband died too. But it’s “his funeral,” as they say. A damn shame, but I suppose if you’re the kind’s going to commit suicide, you’ll do it eventually no matter what else happens. Just hope he doesn’t end up putting a hex on me. This is a no-curse zone, thank you very much!

  Nanmaidabuu, Nanmaidabuu. Shit.

  I’m SO hungry I can’t fucking stand it!

  FUCK the old lady!

  Death to fucking old ladies! Death! Death! Death!

  Pork cutlet cur-ry, poooork cutlet cur-ry, pooooork cutlet cur-ry, hip hip hooray! Lot of good it does me to cheer—I still haven’t got any. Go, pork cutlet cur-ry! Get a hit!

  Curry, curry, curry, curry! Cuuuuurry, curry. Hot curry!

  Fuck.

  Wha? Back at last, you dumb bitch? Trying to starve me to death?

  Curry, curry, curry, curry!

  What the fuck? That’s just the shit you get at the convenience store.

  “What the fuck is that? I told you to get pork cutlet curry and you come back with this shit.”

  «What? Oh dear, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll go back and change it for the right kind.»

  “Don’t be an idiot. Hand it over. I’ll eat this while you go back and get the pork cutlet curry.”

  «Oh dear, can you really eat that much?»

  “Can I really eat that much? I’m fucking starved, bitch.”

  «All right then, I understand. You don’t have to shout.»

  “Will you shut the fuck up? You haven’t heard shit if you think that’s shouting. Uuuwwwaaaaaaah! Kkkkyyaaaaaaaah!”

  «All right, Mr. Hideo. Please calm down!»

  “Shut up, bitch! Just go get the curry…But wait a second…don’t move…don’t go anywhere…hold still…There it is, by the door, some glass broke. There…okay, here we go! Kapow! My Galactic Phantom Kick for the little lady who fucked up the curry buy!”

  Whoaaa bitch! There you go! Little fragile, aren’t we? Anything broken? Maybe you ought to be taking calcium. Or not. Whatever. Get the calcium and die for all I care. But after you get me the cutlet curry.

  Shit I’m hungry. Curry, curry, curry, curry. Curry burry, furry.

  Whoaaah! Not bad! In fact, fucking deeelicious! Worth waiting for even without the cutlet. But I guess everything tastes good when you’re this hungry. Hunger’s the best seasoning.

  Yum yum yum!

  Don’t think there’s enough.

  What the?…all gone! Heh? That really wasn’t enough. My stomach’s still empty—glad I told the old bag to get the cutlet curry.

  So here I am, just sitting around, looking forward to my cutlet curry. Cutlet, cutlet, cutlet, cutlet…curry! Fufufufufufufufufufufufufufuuuufu!

  The Round-and-Round Devil would very much like some curry, if you would be so kind. Guru, guru, boil and bubble, guru, guru curry! So you shake it to the right, and you shake it to the left! Spin it all around, Round-and-Round, one, two, and three, Round-and-Round, spin!

  Ahhh. Oh well, guess I got full waiting for the bitch to come back. But that means a little extra penalty for the old lady, another Round-and-Round Kick!

  Ah! She’s back. Shit, she’s slow. But nothing a little time in the penalty box won’t fix. World o’ Hurt.

  “Hey! Old lady! You’re late.”

  «I’m sorry. They didn’t have cutlet curry at the 7-Eleven down the street.»

  “Then you should have run all the way to where they did have it. Looks to me like you’ve been out for a walk! Anyway, don’t just stand there and look stupid, hand it over! Then stand over there…and look stupid.”

  Oops, still haven’t choreographed my Round-and-Round Kick. Oh well.

  “Take this, bitch!”

  Whoa! More blood from the old bitch’s head. Whatever.

  How ’bout that cutlet curry?

  Shit, that’s good! But can’t finish it.

  Guess I’ll leave some for later.

  Ah, I’m full. That’s enough.

  Okay then, what next? Can’t stay shut up in here all the time like those shut-in shitheads. Must be some manga or something hitting the stands today.

  Ah, yes! The Yoshiba guy’s funeral. An excellent plan!

  I’ll go and pay my respects.

  Well, not “respects” exactly. More like “last respects,” except I didn’t respect ’em much. But whatever. I’ll just go have a look.

  “Yo! Heh! Your Hagness! Where’s the getup I wore when Grampa died?”

  «What?…Oh, yes…we’ve still got it. Where are you going?»

  “Where else would I be going in that thing? To a funeral—fu-ne-ral!—you idiot!”

  «The Yoshiba funeral? Did you have something to do with that?»

  “Of course not. I’m just going to have a look.”

  «You don’t just go have a look at a funeral.»

  “Shut your trap, Mommy Dearest, or I’ll be going to have a look at your funeral.”

  «Have you got the offering?»

  “Offering? What the fuck?”

  «When you go to a funeral, you have to take an offering.»

  “You mean like your own incense or something?”

  «No, no. Don’t you know anything? An offering of money, to help with the expenses.»

  “Pfft!”

  «Do you have any money?»

  “Not a yen. But I’m sure you can fix that.”

  «All right, hold on a minute.»

  “So how much are you supposed to give?”

  «I’
m not sure. I suppose about five thousand yen.»

  “Serious? Seems pretty steep.”

  «Yes, but funerals are expensive.»

  “A whole lot of people came when Grampa died. If they all forked over five thousand, you made out like a bandit.”

  «But most of it went for the expenses.»

  Shit! Now there’s a plan! Stick it to my aunt and her family, send them all off to meet their Buddha, and abscond with the funeral offerings. Might even be able to pin the whole thing on foreigners if I played it right.

  Why would anybody Japanese kill an entire family? It had to be outsiders. They always jump to conclusions. Why would any adult kill cats and dogs and little kids? It had to be another kid. Must be a middle school kid, in fact. Bunch of one-track minds. I guess that Sakakibara thing where that kid killed those other kids, and that other kid in Tottori who killed three whole families—guess those had a big effect on people. Still…

  «Here’s the money. I put it in the right kind of envelope.»

  “Will you look at that?”

  «And the suit’s upstairs, in the closet in Grampa’s old room.»

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  You gotta be kidding me—she really did put five thousand in here. Think I’ll just subtract three—no, four.

  Whoa! This old suit stinks! Can’t go around smelling like mothballs. Old lady needs to get some of those new odorless ones…

  If it’s going to be that much of a pain, maybe I won’t even go.

  The Round-and-Round Devil regrets to inform you he will not be attending…

  Babbabbarabba! Goronnbo!

  Babbabbarabba! Hidenbo!

  Tales of Detective Hidenbo, Chapter Three: Hidenbo Goes to the Funeral. Sure is hot, isn’t it, Detective Hidenbo? You can say that again, Officer Turd. This black suit’s gonna be pretty uncomfortable on a day like this. You can say that again. Who even wants to go to a funeral in this heat? But I don’t see how we can come right out and say that, can we, Detective? I suppose not, but that doesn’t change the fact I’d rather be sipping ice coffee in some café. I’m with you there, Detective, but you can’t sound quite so selfish. You can have all the ice coffee you want afterward. No foolin’? No foolin.’ Nice and icy? All the ice you want, ice cream for all I care. Just as long as it’s cold. I love it cold. Is that right? To tell the truth, my cock’s pretty cold, leastwise it’s always givin’ the cold shoulder to some dame or another. What are you talking about? Hot’s better than cold when it comes to cocks. Really? Then could you use that warm mouth of yours to heat up my cold cock, Hidenbo? Ughhhhh! He he he! Hold on!

  Whoa! That’s a whole lot of police. I get it though—they just got through Armageddon but they’re worried the V of H guys are going to show up—but they never will now, not with this many cops.

  Yoshiba Funeral +

  Whoa! Will you look at this crowd! Too many mourners, man! But at least I won’t stand out. And it would never occur to any of them that Mr. Round-and-Round would show up here. Hee hee.

  Ah, here we are.

  I guess you’re supposed to bow.

  And say something like “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Sounds right.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Bow and…bow.

  «Would you please sign the guest book?»

  Hideo Ozaki, Chofu City, Chofugaoka. I suppose they’d get all bent out of shape if I signed as the Round-and-Round Devil. Bet they’d beat me to a pulp even if I told them it was only a joke. Pretty scary spot for little old me. Yea, though I walk through the valley…and all that. Still, it’s kind of interesting at the same time. What would happen if I wrote my name and made a run for it? I could probably get away…Nah, maybe not. They’d probably get me. Reporters snapping my picture, and all these cops…Think I’ll just leave my little envelope and go.

  Sure is a lot fancier than Grampa’s funeral. They must be getting a lot of offerings, but then I suppose it costs every yen of it to put on a spread like this. Bet the media’s paying something for the rights to the story. They pay for any old interview these days—probably a pretty good racket. You could even sell souvenirs to a mob like this—“Step right up! Get your Yoshiba Funeral Coffee Mugs! Right over here!” Bunch of fucking hypocrites, every last one of them—and the ones pretending to cry are the worst bastards. Why should they be crying? They aren’t dead, Yoshiba is—and that’s no skin off their noses. Why should they be soooo sad? And why should so many of them have turned out for this little get-together? I doubt they saw much of Yoshiba before he kicked the bucket. Maybe passed him once or twice a week in the street—at most. Some of these suckers didn’t see him once a year, I bet. Some of them probably hadn’t seen him since high school! So why should they be so bent out of shape knowing they’ll never see him again? The family—they’re the only ones who’re really sad, and they’re probably mostly wondering what they’re going to do now that the breadwinner’s gone and abandoned them. Wondering how long they can get by on the money in all those little loot bags. Oops, I mean offering envelopes. I’m not used to the lingo. Well, I hate to tell you, but there’s only a thousand yen in mine—though I’m sure it holds five thousand yen worth of sympathy…

  Oh, there’s his wife. Now she can cry all she wants—she’s no hypocrite. You’ve got real problems, honey. Not much fun from now on, I have to admit. Still, with both your kids and your husband gone, you’re pretty much free to do whatever you want. Maybe tuck in at some all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of sucking off strange men.

  But now that you mention it, men really are—

  What? What the fuck? Who said that? Someone said something right behind me.

  Sounded like a woman saying “Yoji” or something. But there’s nobody back there. What the—I must be hearing things. Shit! Don’t think I ever—

  Whoa, not again! What the fuck’s going on? That time I’m sure no one was anywhere close. Who is that?

  Shit! Must be some sort of auditory hallucination. This is totally fucked! The Round-and-Round Devil does not have auditory hallucinations!

  Maybe it’s a ghost? But I haven’t killed any women, just those three little kids—and I suppose you could count Yoshiba, but he did it for me himself. So why should a woman be haunting me? Shit, have I got a split personality or something? A woman hiding in my brain? I know I play around with that shit

  “Who is that? Who’s ‘Yoji’?”

  I’m Hideo.

  Oops, now some guy’s looking over this way. That guy standing next to Mrs. Yoshiba. Who is that? Probably a nephew or something. Or some young guy she’s banging already. Doesn’t matter—but he sure is staring this way. At me.

  Shit! Now he’s coming over. What do you want, asshole? Keep away or I’ll kill you too. Don’t come over here. Don’t even think about it. Shit, he’s really coming.

  «Can I help you with something?»

  “Yaaaa!”

  «Are you okay? Is something wrong?»

  “But who the hell is ‘Yoji’?!”

  «Please keep your voice down! I’m Yoji Kaneda. Are you feeling sick? Why don’t you sit down over here?»

  “What? Oh, okay.”

  So this is Yoji.

  What?! Do I know this guy?

  “Do I know you?”

  «I’m not sure. Could you tell me your name?»

  Tell him my name?

  “No.”

  This is getting spooky. Time to split.

  What?! Now there’s another weird guy coming over. Some sort of nerd.

  «Wait, please.»

  “What do you want?”

  Creepy guy! Why is he looking at me like that? Is he gay or something? Wants to suck me off? Or me to suck him?

  «Aha ha ha ha ha! What are you doing here?»

  What’s he laughing at? What a creep! I don’t get it. Does he know who I am
? Who is he? Shaggy-haired fatso!

  “Who are you?”

  «Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Tansetsu Sakurazuki.»

  Tansetsu Sakurazuki? What kind of name is that? Sounds like a character in a late-night anime or some romance novel.

  What do you mean you remember? I’ve never met the guy.

  «So you’re here, are you? I thought you’d run off somewhere. Yoji and I were terribly worried. But we’re glad we found you. And I must apologize for that strange voice I assume you’re hearing inside your head.»

  Fucking right I’m hearing it! What the fuck?!

  “What’s going on here?”

  «I’m not sure you’ll be able to grasp the situation, hearing about it like this out of the blue, but a certain girl we know has gotten lost and somehow her spirit is inside you.»

  “Wha??? A girl? What girl? Some sort of ghoul? A ghost?”

  «No, she’s not dead yet, so she’s not technically a ghost—I suppose you’d call her a spirit.»

  “What the hell is she doing in me?”

  «Well, we’re not too sure about that ourselves, but these things happen sometimes. At any rate, we’d like to perform a kind of exorcism now, so if you could follow me, please.»

  Follow you where?

  They’re all looking this way. Don’t look at me, you assholes! Fuck you! Fuck—

  Oh shit! That voice really is coming from inside my head. Some kind of evil spirit—this is fucking scary!

  “What do you mean ‘exorcism’?”

  «I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could come with me to the clinic where the young woman is hospitalized, I’m sure we can clear the whole thing up in no time.»

  Sounds like a lot of bullshit to me.

  Hey, hold on just a minute.

  “Are you telling me this girl inside my head is still alive?”

  «She most certainly is.»

  “So when you’re done with this exorcism, she’ll be a walking, talking normal girl?”

  «I expect so.»

  Hang on! That’s a whole different ballgame. When did this girl get inside me? Can she finger me as the Round-and-Round Devil? I don’t like the smell of this.