Eri’s eyes snapped to him. Her voice was cold. “That’s none of your concern. All you need to know is it’s going to help me.” Once again, Eri flashed that feral smile.
III
At an intersection in Roppongi, Eri stood waiting for a taxi when someone called her name from behind.
Startled, she looked over her shoulder and saw a lone man standing there. With the neon lights at his back, she couldn’t make out the details of his face, but something about the man’s silhouette unsettled her.
A chill ran down her spine, but even if she felt creeped out, she felt more irritated than anything. Damn it! she thought. I even took the back streets so that no one would see me. Why now, of all times, did she have to get cornered by some weirdo fan?
She ignored him and returned her attention to the street. After a little time the man repeated, “Eri-san,” but this time, she didn’t turn around.
She needed that taxi to come before she’d be forced to deal with some miserable fan.
“Eri-san,” he said again, this time loud enough to startle her.
Eri turned around to face him. Behind her sunglasses, anger burned in her eyes.
“Listen, you,” she said. “Don’t talk to me. This is my private time. Can you get that through your head?”
Undaunted, the man stepped toward her.
On reflex, Eri took one step back.
The man was larger than he had seemed at first glance. Long, messy hair hung down in front of his face and cast a gloomy shade over his features. He wore an old, ratty T-shirt and dirty jeans.
“Eri-san!” the man shouted. Behind his dangling bangs glistened two tiny, gleaming eyes, staring at her.
Eri glared back with all the intensity she could muster. “You just don’t shut up, do you? What do you want with me? If it’s my autograph you’re after, then fine—you can have it—but then leave me alone!”
The man licked his dried lips and muttered, “E-Eri-san, I don’t need your autograph.” He held something out to Eri. It was a small disposable camera.
“You want a picture?” Eri asked. “All right. Just be quick about it.”
The man shook his head. “I don’t want your picture.”
In full irritation, Eri demanded, “Then what? What do you want? Aren’t you a fan of mine?”
“I’m not your fan.”
“If you’re not my fan, then just go away.”
“I’m not going away,” the man said firmly. “I need something from you. So I’m not going away.”
Eri gave him an exasperated shrug. “You’re making absolutely no sense at all. You don’t need my autograph, you don’t want my picture, and you’re not even my fan, and yet you need something from me? Just tell me what the hell this is about!”
The man sniffed. “I have a favor to ask of you. Although, technically speaking, it’s less of a favor and more of a command.”
“A command?”
“That’s right. I want you to come to my room.”
For a moment, Eri appeared confused, but eventually her cheeks turned red with rage.
“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” she demanded. “You’re insane. Why the hell would I ever go to your room? Get real!”
The man held out a palm to stop her outburst. “It’s an order. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
“Y-you’re crazy. Get away from me. If you don’t, I’ll scream for help!”
“If you want to scream, then go right ahead.” Again, he showed her the disposable camera. “Do you know what this is? Sure you do. It’s a camera. But do you know what pictures are in this camera?”
The man’s expression contorted into something nasty. “You know what’s in this camera,” he said. “The sex you just had. You and that tall man. That’s what’s in there. I have his penis going into you. That’s what happens when you don’t lock the door.”
Eri felt like a hammer had just knocked into her skull. After she had been so careful not to be seen with Naoto, this man had found her. And worse still, he’d taken pictures. Eri’s mind went on overdrive.
If these pictures go public, my life as an idol is over. There’s no talking my way out of being naked, on a couch, in the arms of a lover. For now, I need to do what he says until I can think of some way to take that camera from him. If he wants me to go to his room, he must be after sex. That would be a small price to pay for that camera.
Eri gave him a grin. “Oh, so you have pictures?” she said casually. “Guess I don’t have a choice, then. All right. I’ll go with you to your room.”
IV
As soon as Eri set foot into the man’s room, she began to cough violently. The stench of rotting meat filled the dwelling.
“It stinks in here,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face in a futile attempt to clear away the smell.
The man locked the door behind her and flatly stated, “It’s rotting skin.”
In confusion, Eri said, “Skin?”
“Yeah. A little girl’s skin.”
Eri nodded, just to move things along, but she failed to comprehend the gravity of what he’d just said. Then, noticing the piles of video tapes that filled the room, she spoke in surprise. “What are all those tapes?”
The man kept an eye on her as he slid open the door to his closet and dug around for something within. Finally finding what he sought, he emerged with a roll of brown packing tape.
Watching for an opportunity to steal the camera and run, Eri made her herself sound pleasant. “Oh, so you want to box up all these cassettes, is that it? Let me help you with that.”
The man peeled off a strip of tape and lunged at Eri, taking her by surprise and tackling her to the floor.
Flailing her arms and legs, Eri shouted, “Wh-what are you doing?”
Putting his entire weight upon her, he efficiently worked the tape to bind her limbs together. First wrists, then ankles.
Robbed of her freedom, Eri rolled about on the floor like a caterpillar. She unleashed a barrage of curses at him, adding, “Do you think I’ll let you get away with this? This is a crime. Once I tell the cops, they’ll arrest you in no time. But look, if you take off this tape—just take off this tape—then I won’t say a word to the
police.”
The man’s face remained placid throughout her verbal assault. As she struggled on the floor, his beady eyes kept flicking to the opening of her skirt. These glances didn’t escape Eri’s attention.
“How about we make a deal?” she said. “You want to fuck me, don’t you? That’s fine. I’ll let you. But in return, you’ll untape me first. Untape me and give me that camera, and my body is yours.” She punctuated the offer with a suggestive twist of her hips.
The man loosed a howl and flung himself upon her with crazed desire. With her hands and feet still bound, he tore off her clothing. With his powerful muscles, her lightweight blouse and black leather skirt were quickly reduced to shreds.
“W-wait a second,” the idol protested. “I told you I’d have sex with you, didn’t I? So—so just take off this tape!”
Ignoring her words completely, the man brought his lips to slither around her nipples. Their pink, firm tips pushed back at him inside his mouth.
Eri moaned, her face twisted in pain.
The man sucked in her breast so forcefully she feared it might come right off her chest. At the same time, he ran his right hand across her face. His hand moved from her face to her neck, then down to her chest, and further—to her stomach, and below. When his hand reached her black, low-rise panties, he tore the garment away.
V
Her hands and feet still bound by tape, Eri regarded the man with scorn. A sticky mass coated her partway below her stomach. The sensation disgusted her, but her mind worked at finding a path to freedom.
Kicking her feet, she said, “Well? You’re finished, aren’t you? Are you satisfied now? Then let me go.”
With the post-release spasms still running through his body, the
man desperately fought to keep his rising anger in check.
Twisting herself, Eri whined, childlike, “Come on, let me go. That’s the deal.” Each kick of her legs introduced a slight change in the shape of her exposed pubic mound. As he watched the shifting shape, something snapped in his mind, and suddenly he was straddling her.
“You!” he howled and slapped her face. “You bitch!”
Crazed, the man slapped her, again and again.
As Eri cried out, she kicked up her entwined legs at the man’s back, catching him by surprise and sending him teetering. She curled up her body like a shrimp to evade his next strike.
“What are you doing?” she shouted. “Don’t you see you’re hurting me? Have you lost your mind?”
The man’s shoulders rose as he took a deep breath, and once again he was on top of her, grappling with her.
As if possessed, the man shouted, “You, you, you!” He begin pinching her, all over her body.
With each rough pinch, Eri cried out in pain. She spat on his face. “Stop it!” the idol yelled, as rage burned in her eyes. “What did I ever do to you? You’re the one who brought me here. You’re the one who tied me up. You’re the one who had his way with me.”
The man wiped away her spit with a finger and pointed at her in total earnestness.
“It’s you women. You’re all crazy.” As the man spoke, his anger built and he started swinging his arms in the air. “And you are too, always putting yourself on TV dressed like a whore. Am I wrong? You’re always wanting men to put their things inside you. You women are filthy through and through.”
Eri laughed out her nose and sat up and faced him. “Call me a filthy whore all you like, but who’s the one who brought me here and did filthy things to me? That was all you.”
The man grabbed her arms. “That’s not true! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Yes, I brought you here. But—but it wasn’t to have sex with you. You’re the one who made me do all that! You’re the one who made me want it.”
Eri showed him a shrug. “Believe what you want. But if that’s how you think it works, you could say it about any woman. There isn’t a woman out there that doesn’t make a man feel desire. If there is, she’d have to be really ugly.”
The man responded with an almost inhuman shriek. His already high-pitched voice took on an even more ghastly edge as he cried, “Is that what you have to say for yourself?”
Not following him, Eri furrowed her eyebrows.
The man repeated, “Is that what you have to say for yourself?”
He continued, saying, “That’s how you women always talk. You try to conceal your depravity. Well, I’ll state this as clear as can be—whatever else is true, you, Ochiai Eri, are filthy. You don’t deserve to be an idol!”
The man scooped up an armful of video tapes from the piles around him. “I love idols. You see all these mountains of tapes? They’re all recordings of idols. I want women to have purity, and these idols symbolized that innocence.”
Eri snorted and said, “I hate to shatter your fantasy, but I’ve seen a lot of idols, and not one of them is pure.”
The man threw the cassettes against the floor. “You… you don’t have to tell me that. I already know it. Again and again and again, they tricked me with their false appearances.” Tears began to well in his eyes. “But rather than give up… I’ve kept on seeking that purity—believing it was out there somewhere. Knowing that one innocent idol had to be out there. That’s why I’ve kept watching them.”
The man’s voice began cracking into a tearful falsetto. “But there’s something I need for you to know.” He leveled his stare right at Eri. “Kirigoe Mima. She’s your exact opposite. She’s nothing like you at all. She is every bit the innocent girl an idol is supposed to be.”
Eri tossed him an exasperated look before laughing deep from her throat. “Kirigoe-chan, you say? I hate her. That cutesy act of hers is as fake as they come!” As Eri spoke, she caught sight of the life-size poster of the idol on the wall. Understanding now, she nodded and said, “You’re her fan, aren’t you? What could you possibly see in her?”
The man slapped her across the face. “Don’t you dare speak that way about Mima-san! Unlike you, she’s pure to the core of her soul.”
Face contorted by stinging pain, Eri still managed a sarcastic laugh. “It’s impressive how little you know. I take it from this huge collection of idol tapes that you’ve never actually dated a real woman, so how could you be expected to know how women feel? Well, you know what? Maybe an idol like Kirigoe Mima suits a pervert like you after all.”
The man pinched her lips shut. “Have you said enough yet? I’m only going to tell you once. If you utter one more groundless insult toward her, I’ll stop being so forgiving.”
Eri shook her head to free her lips and said, “I’m not finished. Open my handbag and take a look inside. You’ll find something interesting.” She jerked her chin toward the purse near her feet.
The man picked it up and asked, “In here?”
Eri nodded.
The man opened the purse and looked inside. He saw a notebook and some makeup supplies among the jumbled assortment of objects.
Eri said, “Look down at the bottom. There’s a photograph. Do you see it?”
The man reached inside the bag and found a single photograph near the bottom. Hurriedly, he pulled it out. The second he saw what was on it, the blood drained from his face.
It was a picture of a man with his arm wrapped around Kirigoe Mima’s shoulders—and hers wrapped around his.
VI
In a green room adjacent to CRS-TV’s basement-level recording studio, Mima sat drinking bitter coffee. She had hardly touched the pork cutlet sandwich Rumi had brought her. Nighttime Hit Parade was upon her, and the idol felt so nervous she worried she might break out in a cold sweat.
“Rumi-chan, Rumi-chan!” Mima called out to her assistant, waiting in the next room over.
“Yes?” Rumi called as she came jogging in.
“Could you get me another cup of coffee? Black.”
With a friendly smile, Rumi said, “Mima-san, you must be pretty nervous.”
“I feel like my chest is going to explode,” Mima said, but she returned the smile regardless.
When Rumi came back with a fresh cup of coffee, Mima stood before the full-length mirror, checking her costume. The idol tugged at the hem of her micro skirt, muttering, “It’s so short. If I try to dance in these, they’ll get a panty shot for sure.”
Giggling, Rumi set Mima’s coffee cup down on the counter. “You look very sexy—and that ribbon on the back is totally cute. Your fans will be delighted.”
Mima took the cup in hand and gulped down the hot coffee. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Less than twenty minutes now.” Then she said, “I’m going to do the best I can. I’m going to think of it as the first performance of my new life. I’ll give it my all. Just you watch.”
VII
The man felt shaken to his core. It can’t be true. It can’t be. It can’t be. Again and again he thought to himself, It can’t be true. Not her. Not Mima-san….
He had believed in her purity. Surely she must have been a virgin—or so he had thought.
But now his faith had been cruelly dashed by that single photograph, the grinning couple with their arms over each other’s shoulders. The man stared at the picture with eyes so wide they threatened to leap from their sockets.
“Well?” Eri said, sounding vaguely irritated. “Now do you see who she really is?”
The man turned his stare to her. His expression was strange, unreadable, like he could just as easily laugh or cry.
He said, “Yes, I see it now. I know what I must do. To be honest, right up until this moment, I still had some doubts. But now everything is clear. If there’s no future for my convictions, then there’ll be no tomorrow for her—or for me.”
The man reached into a paper bag and withdrew the cloth-wrapped knife.
But the man shook his head. “No, I still have a use for you. There’s something you must do… for my and Mima’s sake.”
“For you and Mima? I’ll pass. Now come on, get this tape off me!” Eri thrust her bound wrists in front of the man.
As if exasperated, he put his palm to his forehead. He said, “You don’t understand anything, do you? You…” He sighed and started over. “Look, do you have any idea why I brought you here?”
“Of course I don’t!”
“That’s what I figured. If you knew, you wouldn’t be feeling so brave. All right, I’ll tell you. You see, you’re my test subject—my guinea pig.”
Eri’s eyes went wide. “Your test subject?” The words filled her with immediate dread.
“That’s right,” the man said, flashing a yellowed smile. “In my experiment.”
“Experiment?” Fear filled her eyes as she tried to back herself into the corner. Her voice trembled. “What experiment?”
“Well, that’s not so easy a question to answer. I’d give you the full explanation, but we just don’t have the time for that now. I can give you the short version: I want to take off your skin.”
Eri gaped at him. “What? My—my skin?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the words.
The man approached the curled-up idol singer where she lay in the corner of the room. He lifted her to her feet.
“I’m going to take off your skin.” His voice rose higher, until he began to yell. “How is that so hard to understand?”
With incredible strength, he pushed her back until her spine was pressed against a beam in the kitchen. He bound her to the support, wrapping the tape around and around, layer over layer, until escape was impossible.
Inspecting his work with pride, the man said, “Now you won’t be going anywhere.”
Perfect Blue: Complete Metamorphosis Page 8