Rumi’s voice took on a sharp edge when she mentioned Eri. Apparently, she shared Mima’s hatred for the young upstart—a sentiment Mima noticed. The singer grinned and said, “It sounds like you don’t care for Eri, either.”
Rumi puffed out her cheeks. “She’s no idol. She’s a nobody. She doesn’t even give you a hello when you run into her in the studios. And… and, she’s a slut—I can just tell!”
Mima let out a little gasp. “Rumi-chan. You shouldn’t say such terrible things.” She gestured to the driver with her eyes.
Rumi got the message. To Mima, she impishly stuck out her tongue—and then, for the driver’s benefit, apologized with a straightforward “Sorry.”
The taxi reached its destination, and the rear passenger door swung open as Mima stepped out. She leaned back in and said, “Meet me here at ten a.m. tomorrow,” and then headed up to her apartment. Rumi waved goodbye from inside the taxi.
Mima took the elevator to the third floor and walked toward her room, down a long hallway that was open to the exterior on one side. Her apartment was number 304, a southern-facing corner unit. Her name, of course, was not displayed on the placard.
Mima dug her key from her purse and put it in the lock. Just then, she heard a rustling under her feet. Curious, she looked down and saw a red object. What’s that? she thought, stooping down to pick it up.
It was a red rose.
Something about the rose felt alarming, sinister. Attached to the stem like a little branch was a rolled-up piece of white paper. Hurriedly, she removed the page. Something was written on it. She read it in the hallway’s light.
The blood drained from her face.
On the outside of the folded sheet of paper was written “Your Darling Rose.”
He’d come.
He’d really come.
This man who she feared more than anyone else had come to her home.
Her hands shaking, she opened the letter and saw the now-familiar unsteady handwriting.
This might be my final request.
Why? Because you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been telling you.
I delivered my previous letter to you (well, strictly speaking, to your assistant). I can be fairly confident you read it.
I’ve called you many times.
I went to all these great efforts to tell you one, simple message: Please do not change.
And yet, look at you! From your costume to your new song, to the soon-to-be-released photo book, you’re becoming a Mima completely different from the Mima you’ve always been.
But fine. I won’t ask you again.
It appears it is now time for me to act. I will save you from this wicked path by my own means.
Like I said—I won’t ask you again.
I’ve made up my mind.
I will take action.
Sincerely,
Your Darling Rose
When Mima finished reading the letter, she sank to the floor on the spot.
III
In Mima’s apartment, Tadokoro exploded with rage. “I’ll never forgive that bastard!” he shouted. “Who does he think he is, threatening Mima like a goddamned coward? If he had any balls, he’d come out and show himself!”
Mima lightly shook her head. The shock of receiving the letter had kept her awake almost the entire night, so physically, she wasn’t doing well—but emotionally, she’d calmed down for the most part.
Seated beside Mima on the sofa, Rumi watched Tadokoro with an anxious expression. The assistant said, “This isn’t the time for anger, Tadokoro-san,” she said. “This has gone too far now. We need to inform the police. We’re beyond worrying about Mima’s image if it goes public. That freak came to here--to her home.”
Rumi’s eyes were serious.
Tadokoro nodded deeply in agreement. “I understand. You’re right, Rumi. This is no joke. This is a full-on crime. I’m friendly with a few detectives, and I can notify them today. They’ll grab this pervert by his neck and haul him in.”
Tadokoro couldn’t forgive anyone who would cause such a good girl to suffer. He had managed many performers, and Mima wasn’t his first idol. All of them had been selfish and petty. None of them had treated him as their manager.
But Kirigoe Mima was different.
She was dutiful and treated both Tadokoro and the rest of the agency’s staff with consideration—and she possessed incredible perseverance. To Mima, Tadokoro said, “Just you see. Against the full might of the police, that creep doesn’t stand a chance. They’ll catch him, and for good. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
Mima put her hand to her face and smiled weakly. “Thank you, Bon-chan. I’m glad that you feel that way…but don’t tell the police.”
Rumi turned to Mima in shock and said, “What are you saying? Look at how much distress he’s caused you.”
“She’s right, Mima,” Tadokoro said. “This is no time to worry about the agency. This is about you now—as a person.”
Mima looked down, shrinking into her shoulders. “I understand how you both feel—believe me, I do. You want the police to protect me. But think about it: What are this guy’s crimes? Making prank phone calls and delivering weird letters—and that’s it. I don’t think that’s enough to move the police into action. Even the letters’ contents—while they’re very frightening to me—it wouldn’t be impossible to read them as being mere fan letters, if that’s what someone wanted to see in them. Besides, I don’t want to have to go through being interviewed by the police. My new song comes out next month. Starting tomorrow, my schedule will be consumed by promoting it on TV. I don’t have the time to waste on some creep.”
Her speech genuinely moved Tadokoro. She’s so resilient, he thought. A normal idol in this situation would have been hysterical, probably lashing out at her assistant and manager. But instead, Mima was thinking of Rumi and Tadokoro.
Rumi also appeared to have been moved, as she looked at Mima through teary eyes.
Tadokoro patted his fist to his chest and said, “All right, Mima—this is what we’ll do. I won’t contact the police. We’ll stick to your TV schedule as planned. But I’ll stay at your side the whole time. Of course, that includes me staying here in your apartment for a while.” He looked to Rumi. “I’d like you to be here as much as you can. After all, an idol and her manager entering and leaving her apartment with no other company? Who knows what people would say.”
“Okay!” Rumi said enthusiastically.
To Mima, Tadokoro said, “Everything will be fine. I may not look it now, but as a student I made first dan in judo. Black belt. If that creep comes anywhere near you, I’ll knock him out with my trademark ura-nage back throw.”
“Thank you,” Mima said, as tears finally filled her eyes.
IV
Hardly stirring a muscle, the man stared at the knife on his desk. The weapon’s blade gleamed in lamplight. The longer he gazed into its sheen, the more the man felt his calm return. A soft, warm comfort enveloped his body.
Maybe it was the same feeling as a mother’s warmth. Or maybe it was that elusive emotion—love—which he had never once tasted.
He took the knife in hand and rubbed the handle with his fingertips. The grip was made of wood, and he bobbed his head as he enjoyed the sensation of its rough texture against his skin.
Something had been carved into the handle—a human figure. The man rubbed insistently at that figure. When he eventually stopped, he brought the carving up to his eyes for a closer look.
The figure was a woman, a full-body carving.
The man spoke to it. “Mima-san,” he said, and the woman smiled back at him. At least, that’s what it seemed like.
He had spent many dogged months carving the figure into the handle. He copied her likeness from several photos of Mima from the time of her debut and put great care into the details. Both the face and the overall proportions were nearly identical to the real thing.
“Mima-san,” he said, “you really were great back then. Of course, you still are—to an extent. But…” He poked his finger at the carving’s face. “But you can’t keep going on like this—like you’ve been doing lately. How many times have I asked you to stay how you were? Why don’t you listen to me?”
He gripped the knife by the handle and tightened his lips. “I’ve decided. My mind won’t be changed. It feels like I’ve been thinking about what to do for years. Now’s the time to do it.”
The man pulled a record from the shelves. It was Kirigoe Mima’s debut single, “Innocence Forever!” The song was his favorite, so much so that when the 12-inch remix version came out, he bought two copies.
“You were still pure back then. I thought you would remain innocent your whole life. I thought you would never betray me.” A savage cast came over his eyes. “But maybe I was wrong. That’s why I’m going to take action. I’ve thought about this for ages, but now it’s time to act.”