"It shouldn't be too difficult with your skills," I said.
"The hand of God," said Shiba-san, with a wry smile, opening up the hand he had placed on the table. "But what should I do if I find myself suddenly overcome with the desire to kill you?" His eyes turned cold as he stared at his hand.
"Then that would be that, I guess," I said, before taking in a mouthful of beer. As I did so, I glimpsed Ama coming back from the bathroom.
"Good. Because I've never felt such a strong desire to kil anyone," said Shiba-san, just a fraction of a second before Ama sat back down with a big, sloppy smile on his face.
"The toilet was covered in puke. I almost threw up when I saw it."
With Ama's words, the atmosphere quickly returned to normal. Well, at least as normal as it could be considering 1 was sitting between a guy who'd beat someone beyond recognition for me and another who wanted to kill me. I wondered if there'd ever come a day when one of them would kill me.
Two days later, Ama took all the alcoholic drinks out of the fridge and put them into the kitchen cabinet. Then he chained it shut with a padlock.
"What are you doing? You're acting like I'm some kind of alcoholic," I said.
"Well, you are—pretty much," said Ama as he slipped the key into his pocket. "Now, don't you go buying beer at the 46
convenience store while I'm out," he said, as he left for work.
What did he think I was? Some kind of half-wit? Of course I could go without alcohol for a day, I thought, and gave the cabinet a small nudge with my elbow. By the time Ama got home that night, however, I must admit I could think of nothing but beer. Not surprising, though, really. I mean, I'd been drinking during the day and every night for quite a while by then. I guess it had become such a natural part of my life that I didn't really notice how much I was drinking or how addictive alcohol was. I was getting more and more irritated as time passed, and when Ama came home I took it all out on him. I guess he must have kind of expected it, though, as all he did was try to calm me down.
I told you," he said. "You may not be aware yourself, but you're alcohol dependent."
"Oh, fuck off," I said. "It's nothing to do with a drink. It's seeing your stupid face that pisses me off!"
"Yeah, whatever you say, Lui. Just try not to think about alcohol. Have some dinner and then get to bed early.
Tomorrow's the big day."
It pissed me off even more to have to be calmed down by Ama, but I got ready to go out anyway. Dinner was cheap stewed slices of beef on a bowl of rice and, of course, no beer. It was so overly sweet on its own that I
had to cover it in shichimi to make it even vaguely appetizing.
Ama annoyed me even more by looking at me like an overly protective mother the whole time. I even hit him across the head a couple of times too, but he wouldn't knock it off.
47
When we got home, Ama started ordering me around, telling me to do this and that. Then when I came out of the bath, he made me put on my sweats and forced me to drink a cup of warm milk he'd made with plenty of sugar. After that he dragged me into bed even though it was only eight o'clock.
"There's no way I'm going to be able to fall asleep this early. What time you think I went to bed last night?"
"Well, just try, Lui. Do you want me to count sheep for you?"
Before I could answer, he began anyway, so I just relented and closed my eyes. As he approached the one hundredth sheep, his counting trailed off, and he suddenly put his arms around me and squeezed me tight.
"Can I come with you tomorrow?"
"You have work tomorrow," I said, causing Ama to drop his head.
"Its not that I don't trust Shiba-san, but I am a bit worried. I mean, its going to be just the two of you, right?"
I let out a sigh. "There's nothing to worry about. He's a professional. He's not going to jump me," I said firmly.
"Okay," he said, but I could tell he wasn't happy.
"Be careful, though. I'm serious. Sometimes I just can't tell what that guy's thinking."
"Well, you know, not everyone is as easy to understand as you."
Ama laughed, but it was a weak laugh. Then he rook my clothes off and made me lie on my stomach, while he kissed and caressed my back over and over again.
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"So there's going to be a dragon dancing here tomorrow, huh?"
"And a Kirin."
"Seems a shame to ruin such beautiful white skin. But I'm sure you'll look even sexier with a tattoo."
He caressed my back over and over, then moved to slip into me from behind. As usual, though, he ended up coming all over my crotch, and as usual I swore at him and headed off for a shower.
When I came out, he apologized again and massaged my entire body from head to toe. My body relaxed, my con-sciousness blurred, and I felt sleep descend upon me. My last waking thought of the day was how I would stretch my tongue hole to a lO g before leaving home in the morning.
When I got to Desire the next day, the CLOSED sign was already up. It was hot outside and my thin dress was already damp with sweat. The door wasn't locked, and when I opened it I met eyes with Shiba-san, who was sitting behind the counter drinking coffee. "Welcome," he called out in a cheerful voice, and beckoned me to the back room, where I could see the Kirin and dragon design sitting on a table. He picked up a black leather bag, put it on the table, and slowly opened it.
Inside I could see a whole collection of tools I didn't recognize.
A stick with many needles on the end, for example, and all different kinds of ink.
"Sleep okay last night?"
"Yeah, Ama put me to bed at eight."
49
Shiba-san chuckled, and put some sheets on the bed.
"Now take your clothes off and lie down facing the cabinet,"
he said, taking the ink and needles out of the bag without once looking my way. So I took off my dress and bra and lay down on the bed.
"We're going to tattoo the outline today. That determines everything, so if there's anything you want to change, now's the time to tell me."
I pushed my upper body up and turned to face him.
"I have just one request. I don't want the dragon or the Kirin to have eyes."
Shiba-san looked taken aback for a second before opening his mouth.
"You mean you don't want me to draw in the pupils?"
"Yep. No eyeballs."
"But why?"
"Have you ever heard the legend of garyoutensei? You know, the one where the painter, Choyousou, was painting a white dragon on the walls of a temple? Anyway, when he drew in its eyes, it came to life and flew away to Heaven."
Shiba-san nodded slowly, looked up into space, and then stared back down at me.
"Okay. I understand. I won't give them eyes. But to stop the faces from looking unbalanced, I'll probably have to use some gradation on the green around the eyes to make up for it. Would that be all right with you?"
"That'd be good. Thank you, Shiba-san."
"You're a selfish girl," he said as he sat down on the seat next to the corner of the bed and stroked my cheeks. He then shaved the fuzzy hairs from my left shoulder to my hip, disinfected my back with a piece of gauze, and traced the oudine of the design onto my back using tracing paper. Then 50
he got a mirror to show me and asked if it was okay. I told him it was fine, and he began rummaging through his tools, until he found what looked like a thick ballpoint pen with a handle on it. I assumed it was what he was going to use to do the tattoo.
I turned around and showed Shiba-san my tongue. "Look, I stretched it to a lOg," I said.
Shiba-san gave me a brilliant smile and said, "It's coming along well. Don't go too fast, though. It's not like with ears.
You get your tongue infected and you'll really know what pain is."
"I'll take it steady," I said.
"It hurt, didn't it?" he said, tracing my lips with a finger.
"Yeah."
He patted my head.
"Okay then. Here it comes."
He placed a cold, rubber-gloved hand on my back, and I gave a quick nod. Then almost instandy I felt a sharp pain in my back.
It didn't hurt as much as I'd expected, but I couldn't stop my entire body from tensing up each time the needle broke the skin.
"Try breathing out when I put the needle in, and in when I pull it out."
I did as I was told and it became a little easier. Shiba- san kept his needles going at a steady pace all the while and finished the outline about two hours later. The whole time he was doing it, though, he didn't say a word. I glanced over at him every now and then and he was always completely focused on the job, not even bothering to wipe the sweat from his forehead. When at last he stopped the needle, he wiped down my back with a towel, then stretched and cracked his neck.
"You really take pain well, don't you? Most first-timers don't stop whining."
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"Really? Maybe I'm just insensitive; frigid even."
"Yeah right. You weren't even close to frigid the other day."
He lit a cigarette, took one long drag, then placed it between my lips. Then he took out another to smoke for himself.
"Very kind of you."
"Not really," he said. "The first drag is always the best."
"I think it's the second, actually." He chuckled just a little, but there were no words to follow.
"So did you feel the desire to kill me?" "Yeah. I had to concentrate hard on the tattoo to keep my mind off it."
Still lying on my stomach, I stuck out my hand and flicked the ash from the tip of my cigarette into the ashtray, watching it crumple under its own weight then following other stray particles with my eyes as they floated down onto the surface of the bed.
"If you ever decide you want to die, let me kill you," said Shiba-san, putting a hand on the nape of my neck. I smiled and nodded. Then he smiled back at me and asked, "Can I fuck your dead body?"
"I don't care what happens to my body after I'm dead," I said with a shrug.
They do say dead men tell no tales after all. In that case, surely there's nothing more meaningless than not being able to give an opinion on anything. It makes me wonder why people fork out fortunes to pay for tombstones. I mean, for me, I've got absolutely no interest in my body if my mind no longer lives in it. I couldn't care less if it was eaten by dogs.
"Perhaps I wouldn't be able to get it up, though—if I couldn't see you suffer."
52
Shiba-san grabbed my hair and pulled it upward. My neck muscles twitched with the unexpected pressure. Shiba-san grabbed my chin and made me look up.
"Want to suck it?"
I found myself nodding my head, as I didn't feel like I could, or should, say no to Shiba-san. I sat up and put my hand on his belt and he put his hands around my neck. He choked me so hard I thought he was going to kill me. The he started to fuck me—but only from behind this time, perhaps to protect my back. Even after he'd finished, he kept staring at my back.
I didn't put my bra back on for obvious reasons. I just slipped on my dress; Shiba-san sat without his shirt on, watching me the entire time. I was looking around for a garbage bin to throw the cum-filled tissue into when I heard a faint noise. Shiba-san must have heard it as
well, as he was frowning in the direction the noise had come from.
"Could it be a customer? Didn't you lock the door?" I asked.
"I forgot. But I put the CLOSED sign up." The moment the words left Shiba-san's mouth, the door opened. "Lui?" said Ama, walking in.
"Hey, we just finished. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
asked Shiba-san with feigned innocence. I just stood frozen for a moment, imagining how it could have all gone wrong had he gotten here just minutes earlier. "I got off early. Told them I had constipation." "Your workplace lets people off early for constipation?" I asked incredulously.
"Well, the boss wasn't happy, but he still let me go," Ama replied, not catching the sarcasm in my voice. I slipped the tissue between the bedsheets, and then Ama caught a glimpse 53
of my tattoo, getting all excited and saying, "Wow. Awesome.
Thanks, Shiba-san!"
"By the way," he turned to Shiba-san, "you didn't try anything with my Lui, did you?"
"Course not. She's way too skinny for me." Ama looked relieved.
"Hey, why is . . . ?" said Ama suddenly, not finishing his sentence, but just looking puzzled.
I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't see the guilt in my face, then stole a glance at Shiba-san who was also kind of frowning.
"Why haven't the Kirin and the dragon got eyes?"
I breathed a sigh of relief and said, "That's the way I asked for it," then went on to give him the same explanation I'd given Shiba-san earlier.
"I see," he said, "but my dragon's got eyes and it hasn't flown away."
I slapped him playfully across his head for making such a dumb remark, then pulled the strap of my dress back onto my shoulder.
"Don't take a bath for a while. Don't spray water directly onto it when you're taking a shower. Don't scrub it; dab it when you dry it with a towel. Don't forget to use the disinfectant twice a day. And after you put disinfectant on it, rub some skin cream into it too. And try not to expose it to the sun. You'll notice scabs will start to develop in about a week's time, but whatever you do, don't scratch them. Once they've fallen off and the swelling's gone down, we'll move on to the next stage. Anyway, just
call me when the scabs have disappeared," said Shiba-san tapping me lightly on the shoulder. "Will do," Ama and I said 54
together. "Want to go get something to eat?" Ama asked us, but Shiba-san said, "No, it's too early for me," and we left on our own. On the way home I turned my neck around as far as it would go and looked down at my back. I could see the parts of the Kirin and dragon that weren't covered by the dress and I could feel Ama looking at me with what appeared to be mixed feelings.
"What is it?" I asked with my eyes, but he just looked away and frowned. That kind of silent treatment really makes me angry, so I quickened my pace to keep a half step in front of him. Seeing what I was doing right away, he grabbed my hand and pulled himself along to catch up with me, still wearing the same look on his face.
"Lui, why did you wear a dress there? I mean, you got naked down to your panties to have the tattoo done anyway, right?"
"I just thought a dress would be more comfortable than a T-shirt afterward."
With his head still down and without saying anything, he just strengthened his grip on my hand. Then when we came to a stop at a red light, he finally looked up at me.
"Am I pathetic?" he asked.
I felt something close to sympathy for him. It always broke my heart to see a guy give himself to someone so completely.
"A little," I answered.
He smiled awkwardly. Then when I returned it with a small smile of my own, he pulled me into a tight embrace—drawing glances from strangers passing by.
"Do you not like pathetic guys?"
"Not much."
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He strengthened his grip on me, and I found it a litde hard to breathe.
"I'm sorry. But as I'm sure you know, I love you, Lui."
When he finally let go, I saw his eyes were a little red, making him look like a junkie, so I rubbed his head and he laughed like a stupid little kid.
That night I drank until I dropped—literally. Ama seemed to enjoy looking after me, though, so it wasn't a problem. It had already been a month since the Shinjuku
incident, and Ama was still by my side. I told myself that everything was all right; that everything was going to be fine. I had my tongue stud, and I was looking forward to when my tattoo would be done and my forked tongue complete.
I wondered if changing myself like this could be considered an insult to God, or an act of pure ego. I thought of how my life had no real possessions, no emotional ties, no hatred.
And it made me feel that my tattoo, my forked tongue,
my future, were all empty of meaning as well.
Four months after we'd first decided on the design, my tattoo was complete. It had taken just four sessions and Shiba-san had fucked me at the end of each one, but on the day of the fourth and final session he uncharacteristically wiped the cum off my stomach with a tissue.
"Perhaps I should quit doing tattoos," he said, staring into space as he spoke. I had no reason to stop him, so I said nothing and simply lit a cigarette.
"I'm thinking of sticking with one girl. You know, like Ama," he said.
"That have anything to do with quitting doing tattoos?"
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"Maybe. I've been thinking I maybe need to make a new start in life. After all, now I've finished the greatest Kirin ever, I'd be able to quit without any regrets," he said, rubbing his head. Then he let out a deep sigh and said, "As if I could, though. Forget I even said that. I'm just always thinking about changing jobs."
Shiba-san still had his top off and the Kirin glared at me from where it sat, perched on his arm like a king reigning over its land.
In time, the dragon and the Kirin both shed their scabs, completing their transformation to be a part of my body. Now, they were really my possessions—a word I liked to use when I thought of them—but one that could also become devalued after the initial excitement of a new thing wore off. I mean one day, you've got a wonderful new skirt, for example, that makes you feel great. But in just a short time, that skirt's become just another item in your wardrobe. I was kind of fickle like that, I guess, often relegating a thing to the back of the closet after only wearing it two, maybe three times. I guess I tend to see marriage in a similar way too. Just a situation where two people are trying to possess each other. Or even if you're not married, guys still tend to push the same kind of thing, becoming gradually more and more domineering the longer you stay with them. It's what's known as the "why feed a fish if it's already in your net"
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