I leaned my chin against my fist and traced with my finger the dragon Shiba-san had drawn for me.
"True. I mean, these days there's laser removal, but basically, there's no going back. Although in my case, all I have to do is grow my hair out," he said, tracing his finger along the flying dragon on his head.
"That's not the only place you have a tattoo, though, right?"
"No. You wanna see the rest?" He grinned at me.
I gave a small nod and he pulled off his long-sleeved T-shirt to reveal a body like a canvas, with every inch covered in colors 23
and lines, then turned around to show me his back with a dragon, a boar, a deer, butterflies, peonies, cherry blossoms, and a pine tree.
"An Inoshikacho 1" I said.
"Yeah, I like hanafuda cards."
(1A prized combination of cards in the game of hanafuda, comprising a wild boar, deer, and butterfly.)
"But you're missing the bush clover and red maple leaves."
"I know. Unfortunately I ran out of space." I was surprised by his nonchalance about the whole thing, and then he turned back to me and I caught sight of another animal on his upper arm, with a single horn on its head.
"Is that a Kirin?" I asked
"Yeah. It's my favorite," he said. "It's a sacred animal. It doesn't step on fresh forage or eat raw food. I guess that you could say that it's a god of the animal kingdom."
"I don't remember the Kirin having one horn, though."
"Well, the Kirin is a legend that comes from China, and they say it has a single horn enclosed in flesh."
"That's what I want," I said, staring at the Kirin on his upper arm.
Shiba-san was uncharacteristically at a loss for words for a moment; then he told me, "The guy who did this was one of Japans master tattoo artists." He paused. "I've never done a Kirin myself."
"Well, can I get him to do it for me?" "You could," he replied.
"If he wasn't dead," he added, with no trace of humor, staring into my eyes. "He burned
himself to death, holding a picture of a Kirin in his arms. That's just so Akutagawa Ryunosuke. Some people say he shouldn't have been tattooing a sacred animal like that in the first place; 24
that maybe he incited its rage. Who knows, maybe if you get a Kirin, Lui, you'll be damned too." Shiba-san stroked his Kirin tattoo as he said this. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and I let my eyes linger on the Kirin.
"Anyway," he continued, "a Kirin is a combination of a deer, a bull, a wolf, and a whole load of other animals. It's a real pain in the ass to draw."
"But it's what I want. Please, Shiba-san. I mean, if nothing else, at least you could draw a template for me," I pleaded.
Looking a little pissed off, Shiba-san clicked his tongue and muttered, "Oh, all right then, I'll do it,"
"Yes! Thank you, Shiba-san."
"I'll draw the template for the time being. What do you want in the background?"
I thought about it awhile, then flipped through the files again.
"This one," I said, tapping a design with my nail. "And I want to combine it with Ama's dragon."
Shiba-san gazed at the dragon for a moment, then said, "I see," to himself more than to me. "Its the first time I'm doing a Kirin, so I guess it would be easier for me to combine it with something else after all."
"I want it to be about the same size as Ama's and I want it to be just on my back. How much would it cost?"
He pretended to think about it, giving a theatrical pause, then said, "Hmm . . how about . . . one fuck," looking at me from the corner of his eye.
"That's all?" I shot him a sideward glance, and saw him glaring at me, the sadist in him coming to the surface.
"Take off your clothes," he ordered.
So I stood up, my sleeveless dress sticking to my body with sweat. I lowered the zipper and felt a breeze of cold air on my back. Then I let it slip to the ground. He looked me up and 25
down with what looked like total disinterest, then said, "You're really thin. You know if you put on weight after a tattoo, the skin stretches and makes it look awful."
I took off my bra and panties, which were both damp with sweat. Then I slipped off my mules and sat down on the bed.
"That won't be a problem," I said. "My weight hasn't changed in years."
Shiba-san stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stepped up toward the bed, undoing his belt as he walked. He stopped at the edge of the bed and pushed me down roughly with one hand, then brought his palm up against my neck. His fingers traced my veins and his grip tightened until his thin fingertips began to dig into my flesh. All the while, he was still standing, staring down at me. The veins on his right arm bulged to the surface. My body was screaming out for air, and I began twitching. My face tightened and my throat felt like it would crack.
He said, "I like that. Seeing you suffer makes me so hard."
Shiba-san let go of my throat and pulled off his pants and boxers. I was still feeling woozy and light-headed when he got up onto the bed, pressed his knees down on my shoulders, and stuck his cock toward my mouth— framing my face with a dancing dragon on either thigh. I took his sour cock into my mouth and noticed the smell of his body. I've always liked sex in the summer more than any other season. I think it's that sour, sweet smell of sweat and ammonia. Shiba-san looked down at me with a blank expression, grabbed hold of my hair, and pulled on it in a rough rhythm—fucking my face. I could feel myself getting wet, though he hadn't even laid a finger on me.
How very convenient, I thought.
26
"So how does Ama do you?" he asked, pulling his hips upward.
"How does anyone do anyone?"
Shiba-san shrugged. Then his eyes moved to his pants, from which he pulled off the belt to use to tie my hands behind me.
"Don't you get frustrated?"
"Not really. I can come having sex the regular way."
"Are you saying you think I can't?"
"Well, can you?"
"No."
"That's because you're a pyscho sadist."
"I can get off on guys too, though, you know. I've got quite a range," he laughed.
Him saying that made me think of him and Ama fucking, and I thought that might actually be quite beautiful. Shiba-san picked me up in his thin arms and put me down on the floor.
Then he sat down on the bed and stuck his right foot in my face. I sucked his toes one by one starting with the big toe, and then licked his foot until my mouth was completely dry. My neck started to hurt because I had been crouching without leaning my hand against anything. Shiba-san grabbed my hair again
and pulled my face up. I suspected I was gazing up at him with empty eyes. Veins were popping out on the surface of his cock.
"You wet?"
I nodded slightly, and Shiba-san picked me up and sat me on the bed. Almost instinctively, I spread my legs and felt a slight tension sweep through my body. I've been with sadists before, and you never know what they're going to do. I've had enemas, which were fine, and I've played around with toys. I've also got no qualms with spanking or anal. What I don't want to see, 27
however, is blood. I remember once I let a guy put a small glass bottle in me, which he then tried to smash with a hammer. And there'd even been some real weirdos that got a kick out of poking me with needles
I could feel that my wrists and palms were damp, and I was getting goose bumps on my shoulders and upper arms, but I felt a genuine sense of relief as it slowly be¬came obvious that Shiba-san had no intention of incor¬porating anything else. He stuck two fingers up inside me and pistoned them in and out a few times before extract¬ing them and wiping them against my thigh, like he'd touched something dirty. I stole a look at his expression, and when I did, I felt myself getting even wetter still.
"Put it in me," I pleaded.
He took his two still-wet fingers he'd wiped against my thigh, stuck them in my mouth, and moved them around.
"Taste gross?"
I nodded and he pulled them out, plugged them back in my pussy, then returned them to my mouth. It brought back an immediate mental picture of Ama rummaging through that guy's mouth in Shinjuku.
"That unbearable?"
I nodded again and he pulled out his fingers, placed a hand on my head, and pushed it down into the sheets, causing my body to tremble as I tried to support my weight with my head, shoulders, and knees.
"Please, just put it in," I begged.
"Shut up!" he said sharply, then grabbed my hair, grinding my head down against the pillow. His arm reached around me roughly and he pulled my hips up high. Then he spat on my vagina, rammed his fingers in again, moved them around 28
roughly, then slammed his cock into me. Right from the beginning, he pounded me deep and hard, my whispered gasps echoing through the 3 8 musty, clammy air, and in no time I found myself crying.
real tears—something I do easily when it feels really good.
Gradually I was getting there, I could sense the feeling in me building. As he continued to pound and slap against me, he loosened the grip of the belt around my wrists. Then, when my hands were free, he quickly pulled out his cock and I felt the trickle of a tear run from the corner of my eye. Then he grabbed me roughly again, pulled me on top, grabbed an ass cheek in each hand with a clawlike grip, and dragged my whole body back and forth. By now, my entire vagina was numb.
"I want to see more tears," he barked at me, instantly causing more tears to well up in my eyes.
"I'm coming," I murmured, rocking my hips back and forth violently with new urgency.
After I'd come, I could hardly move. But Shiba-san simply pushed me over, climbed on top, then slammed himself into me in a hard, unforgiving rhythm—grabbing my hair, choking me, and smiling all the while from the cruel pleasure it gave him.
Then he said, "Here it comes," just the way he had when he pierced my tongue, shoving his cock in deep, pulling out, then climbing up my body to dump his cum in my mouth. I felt a strange combination of relief and excitement, like I'd been released from Hell, but exiled from Heaven at the same time.
Shiba-san got off the bed, wiped his cock with a tissue, and put on his boxers. He threw the box of tissues in my direction, which I caught, and as I wiped off the cum, I looked at myself in the mirror, tinged with running makeup and tears. After I'd 29
finished up, we sat on the bed, leaned up against the wall, and stared at the ceiling while smoking cigarettes. We sat there doing nothing for a while, only uttering minimal exchanges like
"Can you pass the ashtray," or "It's hot, huh?"
After a while, Shiba-san stood up, turned around and looked at me with disdain. "If you break up with Ama, you become my girl, all right?"
I almost burst out laughing. "You'd probably kill me!"
"And Ama won't?" said Shiba-san, chillingly without a change in expression.
For a moment I was lost for words.
"But if we did get together," he continued, "it would be with marriage in mind." He threw my bra and panties to me and I slipped my panties on. I tried to imagine what married life with Shiba-san would be like, and whether it would be something I'd be likely to survive. Then I slipped my dress back on and got off the bed. Shiba-san took a small can of coffee from a mini fridge, opened it, and handed it to me.
"Underneath it all, you're a nice guy, aren't you?"
"I only opened it because your nails are so damn long."
I pecked him on the cheek and said, "Thank you." Words of gratitude that seemed totally at odds with where we sat. I imagined my "thank you" floating around forever with nowhere to go. Then Shiba-san went back to the store and reopened it for business.
"Do you ever actually get any customers?" I asked.
"Yeah. It's just most people come for body piercing or tattoos, so they make reservations. It's not the sort of shop where people tend to stop by and browse."
"I see."
30
I sat down on a seat behind the counter and stuck out my tongue. I touched the stud with my finger. It didn't hurt anymore.
"Hey, you think I can put in a 12 now?"
"Not yet. You have to keep it in for about a month. That's why I told you to use a 12 for your starter stud," said Shiba-san coldly, peeping behind the counter from out on the store floor.
"Will you call me when you finish the design?"
"Sure. Come with Ama. Tell him you want to go look at earrings. Then I'll show you the design and you can act all surprised, like you've never seen it or thought of it before."
"Call me during the day—when Ama's at work."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, and went back to organizing stuff on a rack.
I put my hand on my bag to go home, and then Shiba-san suddenly turned around to face me.
I stopped abruptly. "What?"
"I think I might be a child of God," he said without changing his expression.
"Child of God? Isn't that the title of some crappy B-movie?"
"No. Think about it. God has to be a sadist to give people life."
"So I guess you're saying Mary was a masochist?"
"Yeah. Guess so," murmured Shiba-san, and he turned to face the rack again. I picked up my bag and walked out from behind the counter.
"You wanna grab a bite before you go?"
"No, Ama will be getting home soon."
"Fine. I'll see you then." He patted my head roughly. I took his right arm and stroked the Kirin.
"I'll do you a really cool design," he said.
31
I smiled, gave a small wave, and headed out. Outside, the sun was setting and the air was so fresh I almost choked. I took the train back to Ama's place. The shopping promenade on the way home from the station was full of too many families. In fact the sound of all those voices made me want to vomit. A small child bumped into me and the mother pretended not to notice. I kept my eye on the kid, though, until he looked up and saw me.
When our eyes met, I swear he was just about to cry, so I just tutted at him and kept on walking. I really didn't want to live in this kind of world. I wanted to live recklessly and leave nothing behind but ashes in this dark, dull world.
As soon as I got back to Ama's place I put my clothes in the washing machine and turned it on because Desire always smells of incense and the scent gets into my clothes whenever I've been there. I stepped into the shower and washed myself thoroughly from head to toe. When I got
out, I dried myself down and put on a pair of jeans and one of Ama's T-shirts. After putting on a little makeup and drying my hair, I went and hung my dress out to dry, then sat down to take a break just as the doorknob turned and Ama walked in. "Hi."
"Hi."
I was relieved to see him smiling broadly.
"I was sleepy all day long," said Ama, stretching.
It wasn't surprising he was tired considering we'd been drinking until the early morning. I was exhausted too, as I couldn't get back to sleep after seeing Ama out in the morning—that's when I decided to call Shiba-san. My entire day had gone like clockwork—as predictable as the passage of time itself. The only thing special about my day was the encounter 32
with the Kirin. Now I just couldn't wait until it decorated my skin.
I didn't care if Ama was Amadeus. Shiba-san was a son of God, and I was the only unexceptional one among us. All I wanted was to be part of an underground world where the sun doesn't shine, there are no serenades, and the sound of children's laughter is never, ever heard.
Ama and I ate dinner at a pub, went back to the room, and had sex. Almost straight after, Ama fell into a deep sleep, as if he had been knocked out. I cracked open a beer and sipped it while looking at his sleeping face, wondering to myself whether he'd kill me the way he had that sleazy guy if he knew me and Shiba-san had been fucking. Then I thought that if I really had to choose, I guess I'd rather be killed by a son of God than by Amadeus, although I didn't really think that this particular son of God could ever kill anyone.
The only magazines Ama had at his place were men's fashion magazines, and I didn't know how to use his computer, or any other for that matter. I looked around the room clucking my tongue, looking for something to do, and picked up a newspaper. It was a trashy sports tabloid that was actually pretty much my primary source of information. I checked the late- night TV listings on the back page, and then flicked through page by page, working my way back to the front.
All I really got out of it was that people were being murdered every day here in Japan, and that even the sex trade was feeling the pinch of the recession. As I was flipping through the 33
pages, a headline jumped out at me: 29-YEAR-OLD GANGSTER
BEATEN TO DEATH IN SHINJUKU.
The face of the guy from the night before came straight to mind. Though surely he was older than twenty-nine, with that face. If not, he looked much too old for his age, kind of like Ama and I. It must have been a similar incident somewhere else. After all, Shinjuku is a pretty big place. I took a deep breath and continued to read the article.
The victim died upon arrival at the hospital. Police say the murderer is yet to be found. According to a witness, the man has red hair, a slight build and is about 175 to 180cm tall.
I looked at Ama, compared him with the description in the article, and put down the paper. If the suspect in the article really was Ama, then wouldn't the witness have mentioned the tattoo and the face full of piercings? Of course they would, I told myself. It must just be some guy who happens to look a little similar to Ama, that's all. The guy Ama beat up would still be alive, I was sure of it. Anyway, I grabbed my handbag, left the room, and walked quickly to the convenience store, where I bought bleach and ash-colored hair dye. When I got back, Ama was still sound asleep, so I shook him awake.
Snakes and Earrings Page 3