Ryu Murakami - Piercing

Checking to see that the girl’s eyes were still closed, he picked up the vinyl bag containing the two bundles, slipped the room key into his pocket, and stepped out into the corridor. He closed the door behind him and stood there a moment, getting his bearings. Room 2902 was at the very end of the twenty-ninth floor. There was a certain surreal quality to the long corridor, and it took him some time to realise that the faint buzzing in his ears was in fact the sound of a TV somewhere. But merely stepping outside the room, away from the girl, had helped dissipate some of the tension — which perhaps explained why his finger was suddenly hurting like hell again. The gash was a deep one, and his tissue-paper and shirt-cloth bandage wasn’t doing much to stop the flow of blood.

He was slowly making his way down the corridor when a door opened just ahead and an elderly couple emerged. They were speaking together in English and dressed as if they’d just returned from a round of golf. Kawashima was walking past with his head down, when the woman startled him by flashing a big smile and saying, ‘Excuse me, sir!’

He felt as if both she and the man were eyeing the vinyl bag and the bandage on his hand, but apparently she was asking him about restaurants. Kawashima’s English was shaky at best, but she seemed to be saying that they’d been told the restaurants in Tokyo hotels were outrageously expensive. Could he recommend a nice place nearby, preferably Italian or Continental? The husband protested that she should ask the front desk or concierge, that it was rude to bother a complete stranger with such things, and gestured for Kawashima to walk on and pay no attention to her, but he too was wearing a big smile. They reminded Kawashima of the sort of elderly couple you see in old American movies. He excused himself, ducking his head apologetically, and continued down the corridor towards the elevator, but of course the elderly pair were going that way too and walked along behind him, talking quietly. It would not be good to get on the elevator with these two, he thought. Getting off at any level other than the lobby or the restaurants would strike them as odd, and they might even remember which floor it was. If calling the S&M club should lead to any sort of complication, he couldn’t risk having the ice pick and knife discovered and linked to him.

He stopped and pretended to search his pockets as if he’d forgotten something. As the couple passed him, he wished them a good evening and did an about-face to head back towards his room. And no sooner had he spun on his heel than he saw the door to room 2902 open and Sanada Chiaki come staggering out into the corridor, completely nude. Kawashima froze, and the vinyl bag nearly slipped from his hand. If he broke into a run, the elderly couple would hear his footsteps and turn to look. And what they would see was like a scene from a nightmare — a thin, naked, blood-smeared Japanese girl with a crude bandage wrapped around her thigh, stumbling down the corridor of their hotel. Glancing back at them, he saw that they hadn’t yet noticed anything and were about to turn the corner to the elevator hall. The girl was slumped against the wall, looking around her in a bewildered way, as if wondering where she was and which way to run.

The moment the elderly couple disappeared around the corner, Kawashima broke into a sprint. He prayed that no other doors would open before he got to her.

When she saw the man running towards her Chiaki gave a little squeal. She turned to flee but ran into the wall, scraping her knee on the plaster and falling back on to her rear end. When Kawashima caught up to her she was scrambling to escape on all fours. He bent down to reach under her arms and drag her back to the room, but it was no easy job moving an unwilling woman — petite or not — even a few metres. Pinning her under his left arm, with the vinyl bag still dangling from that hand, he searched his right-hand pocket for the key. As the girl thrashed about, the bouncing bag dislodged his bandage and the wound at the base of his finger began bleeding freely again. He somehow managed to get the key in the lock and to open the door, and just as he tumbled inside with the girl, throwing her to the carpet as if tackling her, he heard another door closing somewhere down the corridor. The pain in his left hand was intense, and his heart felt as if it were going to explode.

Had someone seen them? In any case, he certainly couldn’t call the S&M club now. He hadn’t even disposed of the weapons yet. The girl lay in the entryway, moaning.

‘ Owww! It hurrrts! ’

Minutes earlier, awaking from the briefest of naps, Chiaki had found herself back in touch with all five senses, and the pain had been excruciating. Her thigh was clumsily wrapped with a makeshift bandage, and when she stood up a rivulet of blood ran down her leg to the top of her foot. She was scared. She’d have to go to the hospital again. The man who always took her there had been at her side just a moment ago — she could still feel the warmth of his arms around her. Her teeth were coated with a sticky substance, and her tongue discovered something like a bit of rubber band stuck to her upper gum. She fished this out and looked at it. It had a pattern of little grooves, and when she realised it was a piece of human skin, she remembered having bitten the man’s finger. She could still hear the way he’d whispered in her ear: It’s all right, don’t be angry, there’s nothing to be afraid of . To think that even as he was whispering things like that in her ear, she was tearing his flesh with her teeth. . She limped to the bathroom, groaning with each step, but the man wasn’t in there either. She picked up the navy-blue suit he’d been wearing and shook it out, waving it in the air and shouting, ‘Where are you?’ Spotting his overnight bag next to the desk, she snatched it up and threw it against the wall, then hobbled to the door. Only after she’d stepped out into the corridor did she realise she wasn’t wearing any clothes. The door slowly swung closed behind her, and it had just dawned on her that she couldn’t get back inside when she saw the man running towards her from way down the corridor. But wait. This couldn’t be the same man — he was wearing different clothes. Terrified at this realisation, she’d scrambled to get away, but the man had caught her and dragged her back into the room. Once inside, she noticed the wound on his hand and thought: It’s him after all.

‘Listen to me!’ Kawashima said, gasping for breath. ‘Can you, understand, what I’m saying?’

Chiaki nodded, staring at his face and trying to fix it in her memory. Of course I understand what you’re saying, she thought. You want to take me to the hospital, right?

‘First of all, would you, please, put your clothes on?’

He had to get out of this hotel as soon as possible. Someone may have seen them just now, and he still had the knife and ice pick in his possession. He should probably take her to a hospital. Escort her to an emergency room, get her some treatment, and the S&M club could have no cause for complaint. He was the one who was being inconvenienced here, after all. Surely they’d be satisfied if he explained things properly and paid for six hours of her time.

‘Please? Please get dressed.’

He’d throw everything into his bag and check out immediately. The fact that he was with a woman would make an impression on the clerk, but he couldn’t worry about that at this point. I haven’t actually done anything anyway, he told himself. Get in a taxi, take her to the nearest hospital, and wash my hands of the whole thing.

‘We’re going to the hospital. You can’t very well go naked, right?’

Chiaki was ecstatic. So it really was him. The one who’d grabbed her from behind and whispered in her ear and made her realise how angry and scared she was, was the same one who always saw to it that she got to a hospital. It’s really him, she thought. I’ve finally met the mystery man.