Perfect Blue: Complete Metamorphosis

by Yoshikazu Takeuchi

  But those voices formed a minority opinion at best. Mima had long ago accepted that the way she had been—not even wanting to appear in a swimsuit—was going to have to change.

  Take that newcomer, Ochiai Eri. From the time Eri made her debut, she had sold her sex appeal farmore than her cuteness. Modern fans were looking for the woman in the idol. Mima could hear Eri’s mocking voice: “How long is she going to keep up the innocent girl act?”

  If Mima was going to conquer that voice, she would have to become a new person.

  As she read the score to her new song, she vowed to herself, I’m going to change!

  V

  This was not a normal day for Tadokoro. Since the early morning, the manager had been practically frantic, running between every TV and radio station he could, all to promote Mima and her upcoming song. If he didn’t, the media would largely ignore an idol with such a demure and subdued image. After all, Mima wasn’t going to get in a lover’s quarrel or try cutting her wrists or anything like that. Still, this was her only career; she had no side job. For her sake, Tadokoro needed to do the legwork. He needed to maintain relationships with the broadcasters.

  The manager believed in Mima’s innate talents as an artist, in her potential for success, but her nature was not conducive to self-promotion. As a result, her CD sales thus far hadn’t done much to break away from the rest of the idol pack.

  Tadokoro had worked as her manager for many years now, and he yearned to give her a number one song. No matter how tough her schedule became, she never uttered a single word in complaint. She was a good kid; she always showed genuine consideration toward her manager and the agency’s staff.

  If it were in his power, Tadokoro hoped to secure her a spot as the nation’s top idol for at least the next several years. As evidenced by the recent telephone harassment, a significant number of her fans were the antisocial type, and Tadokoro had always kept them in mind when he crafted Mima’s image.

  But maybe he didn’t need to do that anymore. Maybe he could be forgiven for betraying those fans, as long as he did it for Mima. At least, that was Tadokoro’s read of the situation as he worked out his plan for her new song.

  He hadn’t told Mima about it yet, but he’d devised an accompanying costume for maximum impact. Despite how she presented herself, Mima possessed a rather glamorous and even voluptuous figure. As the Charming Rose, Mima had been concealing that sex appeal—but no longer.

  Tadokoro was planning to turn her sex appeal up 120 percent.

  He’d even thought of a few new taglines for her: “The Neo Sexy,” “Naked Heart,” “Dainty Diva,” and so on, all of them refuting Mima’s innocent image.

  Just the costume in and of itself was a far cry from that image of purity: a white tank-top blouse lay held in place by two mere suggestions of shoulder straps; the neckline dropped to emphasize the valley between her breasts, and the fabric would do little to restrict any bouncing that might occur when the singer danced. The white wrap-around miniskirt left an edge dangling, enough to tease already titillated TV viewers into wondering if it all might fall away. White knee-high socks—along with a large ribbon on the back of her head and the rear of her skirt—emphasized Mima’s cuteness, even while they brought a dissonant, kinky edge to the look.

  As Tadokoro looked at the sketch for the costume, he nodded in satisfaction. If Mima gives this look the okay, her song will take number one for sure.

  VI

  A tense mood hung over the Moon Kids Talent Agency’s meeting room, where an all-hands meeting was being held for Kirigoe Mima’s new song. Mima herself was in attendance, and her nervousness colored her expression.

  Tadokoro distributed copies of the costume sketch. When Mima saw it, she let out a startled laugh.

  The husky-voiced manager of the production department spoke first. “Bon-chan, that’s pretty extreme, don’t you think?”

  Tadokoro looked him in the eye and said, “If we’re going to change Mima’s image, we shouldn’t do it by half measures. It would be better to do nothing at all than to make just a minor change.”

  The head of production had nothing to say against that. He nodded his head in silent agreement.

  Tadokoro continued. “Until now, Mima has relied on her innocence. But some day soon, that path will reach a dead end. I’ve been Mima’s manager since her debut. I understand her untapped potential better than anyone.”

  He glanced to Mima. “I believe Mima can become a much, much bigger star. This song can take her to that next level. Even the title, ‘Sexy Valley,’ might seem a bit aggressive, but I chose it for that very reason. As you can see, I went all out with the costume, and Mima’s photo book will be released simultaneously with the song, sharing the same title. I’ve already told the TV networks the direction we’re taking Mima in, and I’m counting on everyone here to come on board.”

  Tadokoro’s impassioned speech seemed to overpower everyone present. Even Mima felt moved, in a way.

  His deep voice resonant, the head of production announced, “I hear what you’re saying, Bon-chan, and I agree with you. But we still need to hear Mima’s opinion.”

  The man looked to Mima, who sounded a bit sulky when she said, “If that’s the agency’s decision, I’ll go along with it.”

  She was glad to see Tadokoro’s enthusiasm, but she didn’t like the sound of changing who she was to fit into this sensual image. Besides—no matter how extreme a makeover, she doubted anyone would see her as sexy.

  On the other hand, a fire burned inside her, a deep desire to triumph over Ochiai Eri.

  “If we’re going to do this,” she said, “I’d rather go with a bold plan than one that only goes halfway. It’s time to leave the innocent act behind and be a bombshell.” Mima grinned, and Tadokoro made a happy, victorious fist pump.

  “If that’s what Mima says,” Tadakoro said, “then this song is practically a hit already! She just made a tough decision, so I want everyone to put in their best effort and not let her down. We’re getting the number one spot—not number two or three.” For emphasis, he wrote a giant number one on the meeting room blackboard. “For Mima’s new image to succeed, we need to own the top of the charts. We have to let the world know this is no passing phase or fad.” The manager looked to a young staffer. “Ken, how do you think Mima’s fans will react?”

  The man called Ken scrambled to his feet and produced a small stack of survey responses. “Umm, we sent out a survey to members of her fan club and received a largely negative response. However, I want to emphasize that we only asked fan club members, which are primarily her most passionate fans. Still, nearly all of them were against her taking this new, sexier direction. Member number fifteen, a male from Yokohama wrote, ‘I want her to stay the Charming Rose forever,’ while number thirty, a male from Osaka said, ‘Please don’t betray us,’ and—well, you get the gist of it.”

  Ken distributed copies of the report to everyone present. Tadokoro gave the report a glance and said, “Of course someone who’s already her fan won’t want her to change. But we have our own thinking. I believe we can move on without fans like these. If they’re so selfish that they’d force Mima to stay a child forever, we don’t want them anyway.”

  Tadokoro looked to Mima. They could see it in each other’s faces: both were thinking of the man on the phone. For a second, a chill ran down the idol’s spine.

  The head of production sniffed in gentle disapproval and said, “Bon-chan, you shouldn’t speak so harshly. We need her fans to come with her. We’re looking to add to them, not to replace them.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree,” Tadokoro said. “Fans like these aren’t fans at all. True fans would want to see the idol grow; they ought to be willing to stomach a little image change if that’s what it takes. I refuse to allow any so-called fan to hold her down or drag her back!”

  VII

  After the meeting finished, Mima and Rumi went to a convenience store near the singer’s apartment. In
her casual clothes, Mima could have been any normal woman. No one would guess she was Kirigoe Mima, the idol. If anything, Rumi was more likely to draw attention.

  “Tomorrow’s the first day of your photoshoot, isn’t it?” her assistant asked.

  “Yeah,” Mima said, picking out a cup of instant soup. “It’s going to be tough—not like the easy shoots I’m used to doing.”

  “Please be careful. I’m still worried about that creeper…”

  “I will be. But Bon-chan seems to have some plan, and I haven’t gotten one of those horrible calls for a while now.”

  Rumi smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  The two purchased their cup soups and bread, along with some sanitary items and stockings, and then headed for Mima’s apartment.

  The city outside had begun to grow dark, and the faces of the occasional passersby were ill-defined in the dim light. It was the perfect hour for a secret rendezvous.

  With a small laugh, Mima said, “This is the most eerie time of day,” and Rumi bobbed her head in agreement.

  At that very moment, a man stepped out from the convenience store. He had been watching them shop inside. He started after the two women, as if in pursuit, shoulders hunched over to make his presence less noticeable.

  His long hair tumbled across his face, and in the dusky shadows, he appeared as a ghost. The man’s white T-shirt and blue jeans were ubiquitous, but the design on his T-shirt was most unusual, so garishly bright it stood out even in the twilight. The picture was that of an anime character—an adorable little girl, whose face covered his entire back.

  Hunched over, the man followed Mima and Rumi.

  His hair formed shadows that concealed his face, but his queerly glimmering eyes betrayed a tormented mind. He muttered to himself, the words spoken but unheard.

  “I can’t wait any longer. There’s no more time…”

  Chapter 4

  SCHEME

  I

  The woman moaned, her long hair bouncing. Her back arched, again and again, unexpectedly sensual creases appearing along the sides of her body. Legs straddling her partner, she gyrated her hips smoothly, moving forcefully, up and down. Playing counterpoint to the woman’s moans, an obscene slapping sound rang through the room, like a wet towel smacking against hallway floorboards.

  The man moved his hands to the woman’s waist, holding her tight while he set the pace, hips pushing up and down. Each time he thrust into her, she let out another cry. Then she was curling forward, body pressed against him, breasts against his abdomen, their touch making him even harder than before.

  His fingers tightened around her, and he rolled her to the side, and then under him. Looking down at her face, he felt a deep, warm satisfaction spread through his chest.

  So this is what an idol feels like. I can hardly hold back…

  He thrust harder now; the woman’s perfect features twisted in pleasure. A hand grasped her breast and played with its softness; the volume of it filled his hand. He began to rub and squeeze, roughly, as if to separate that volume into tiny pieces.

  “O-ow,” the woman said, wincing. But she seemed to enjoy the pain. She reached her hand to her untouched breast and squeezed it herself.

  The man’s thrusts picked up more speed, and he felt a warmth building between his legs. He sensed the end was near. Hoping to enjoy himself a little longer, he slowed his movements, but it was too late to hold back the surging force.

  He felt her spasming around him, and then the next moment, her flesh contracted, hugging him.

  “P-pull out,” she said.

  Warm liquid shot through his shaft, and the sticky mass of it spilled out onto her stomach.

  The man lay down in the bed. In a half-whisper, he said, “How old are you?”

  The woman drew the bedsheets over her chest and curled up beside him. “Don’t worry, silly. I’m plenty old enough—that’s all that matters, right?”

  From the nightstand, she took a menthol, lit it, and put it in her mouth.

  “The magazines say otherwise, but there’s no way that’s true. Not with that body.”

  She tossed the bedsheets aside, so that not even a stitch could conceal her from his sight. From her supple skin down to the last proportion, her body was perfect—but the most erotic part of the view was the way the light and shadows fell across her waistline and below. As the man looked at her naked body, he felt his manhood mustering strength for a second battle.

  The woman was Ochiai Eri.

  She’d only recently made her debut as an idol singer, but she’d already made her first huge hit with her new song, “Rock, Love, Dream!” The performer had quickly attained a spot in the public consciousness as a top idol and enjoyed a high demand on television and for photo shoots.

  Her provocative photo book, Mermaid Trap, had raised quite the buzz after its summer release. The collection broke photo book sales records. Even the man laying in bed beside her had bought a copy. He’d pleasured himself many times to the picture where she covered her nipples with only her index fingers.

  “Even though you’re an idol,” the man said, “being with you like this, I can see you’re as human as the rest of us.”

  Enjoying another drag from her cigarette, Eri said, “Being an idol is just business. In my private life, I’m normal as can be.”

  The man reached beside the bed where he’d placed his black leather briefcase. He opened it and withdrew a notepad.

  The man’s name was Sakuragi Shin—an entertainment reporter.

  “So then,” he asked, “when is Kirigoe Mima’s new single coming out?”

  “I’d guess the end of next month.”

  “That’s not much time,” Shin said, shaking his head. “I might not be able to dig up a scandal on her before then.”

  “Don’t worry,” Eri said. “I didn’t come to you without a lead. Have you heard of a rocker called Aran Naoto?”

  “Sure I have. He’s a big name.”

  “Nobody knows this,” the idol said, “but he and Mima have a thing.”

  Sakuragi was speechless. If what Eri was saying were true, it would be a big scoop.

  “I know they’re together,” Eri said, “but I don’t have any proof. That’s what I want you to find.”

  “So that’s what this is about,” Sakuragi said with a wry smile. “You’re sending me to catch them out together, is that it?”

  Eri gave him a meaningful grin. “Yes, that’s what I want you to do.”

  “You sure don’t pull any punches. You got close to me just so I’d get your rival caught in a scandal.”

  “Isn’t that obvious? I’d never sleep with someone like you otherwise.”

  “I suppose a mere reporter isn’t quite on the same level as a producer, after all. But if it means I get to have some fun with Ochiai Eri in the flesh, then fine by me.”

  Sakuragi, hard again, moved in toward Eri, but the idol slid from the bed and quickly got into her clothes.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “If you want me, you’ll have to catch Mima with her secret date!”

  II

  Murano Yuji is a nice guy, Rumi thought. The photographer was unpretentious in both attitude and appearance, unlike his peers (at least all the ones Rumi had met) who put on grandiose affectations and quirky artist personas—not to mention the many who were unsavory and lecherous.

  But Murano Yuji wasn’t like the others. He was kind and incredibly considerate of the people he worked with.

  With an affable grin, Yuji declared with mock formality, “Mima-san, your manager has hired me to capture you in pictures both cute and sexy, and that’s what I’m going to do. Think of my voice as the voice of God and obey it absolutely.”

  The grin was easy, infectious. Mima bobbed her head and followed along, joking, “Yes, Yuji-san. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” Upon entering the photo studio, she’d gotten so nervous she thought her heart might stop. But when she met Yuji, her worries settled immediately.

&nbs
p; Drinking a cup of coffee Rumi had brought him, the photographer said, “You know, I’ve met you before, Mima-san. It was right after your debut—though I’d be surprised if you remembered.”

  Mima’s eyes widened. “Really? Was it for the cover photo?”

  “No, we’ve never worked together before now. I went to the Moon Kids office to see Tadokoro-san, and you happened to be there. If I remember right, you were having a planning meeting for your first song.”

  “Oh! I remember that day well. That was the first time I’d gone to the office… But I’m afraid I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Yuji said. “Back then I had a beard all over my face.”

  “Wait? You’re not saying…” She flashed a broad smile of recognition. “You were Mister Bear?”

  Yuji beamed back at her. With a laugh, he said, “Is that what Tadokoro-san called me? Yes, that was me. Back then, I was just starting out, and I didn’t even have the money to afford a shave.”

  “Wow, so that was you!” Mima said, happily shaking his hand. “What a time that was. It’s nice to remember.”

  Reassured, Mima thought, With him behind the camera, I don’t have to be worried.

  Mima left the photo studio with a bounce in her step. The shoot had proceeded at an incredibly vigorous pace, but the hard work had been accompanied by a commensurate sense of fulfillment.

  Not only had the pace been tough, but once Yuji began taking pictures, the gentle man transformed into a completely different person. Through his camera he pursued his subject with machinelike coolness. Mima hadn’t minded, though. His cold manner made her feel that she was in the capable hands of a professional.

  When Mima walked down the staircase and exited the studio, darkness had already fallen. Rumi was waiting for her outside the entrance; when Mima saw her, the idol gave a broad wave. Then she noticed her assistant had already summoned a taxi, whose open door accepted them both.