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Can you hear it, the sound of my heart knocking in my chest? Come open it and squeeze it. It belongs to you, and it yearns for your touch.
I saw you from across the street. You just moved into this neighborhood. Everything must be new to you. You came to ask me for directions because apparently, I am your type. You only wanted to talk to me, didn't you?
I’ll never allow you to ask anyone else, though. That was how you met me, but I had met you a bit before that. I met you on the bus, with your suitcases, trying to balance yourself. Remember the swordsman wearing purple? That's me. I was too shy to talk, so I could only adore you from a distance.
I'm not sure if you noticed me. I'm not sure how you feel. There’s only one thing that I know for sure. From the moment I saw you, I’m sure that you’ll soon be mine.
You are hauntingly beautiful, like an unfinished harmony written in a blast of inspiration, and could never be recreated once the moment has passed, so I have to look at you, look at you, look at you again. I hear you are a musician, so the comparison suits you better than anything. Your beauty has claimed my eyes, your elegance my heart, and your voice my soul for eternity.
Can you hear it, the sound of me trying to knock myself back to reality? You have charmed me into a hallucination, and now I have no way out. Come and make it a reality
Your silhouette at the window every night urges me to see more. And your face has followed me to my dreams. I want more than just shadows and erotic products of the mind. I want to touch you with my eyes. Please forgive me for loving you too much, too desperately.
My eyes are peeled, sticking to you, from my window. We are not that far away from each other, and you don’t close the curtain so often. You have a shamisen that appears to be your favorite instrument. I hear you play occasionally. The music coming from your lovely fingers has nurtured my desire for you, making it grow stronger, harder, and painfully exhausting to get rid of.
Your music has charmed me, not because I understand music, but because it was the sound coming from you. You, and your hands, your fingers, your lips. I want them to graze through my body. The feeling of heaven, the feeling of being with you, having you, claiming you. I am yours, and you must be mine.
Can you hear it, the sound of my footsteps knocking on the pavement? Come and take me. Let me be yours.
I’m coming, from across the street, to you. Music to my ears, light to my eyes, smiles to my heart, enchantment to my life. Do you even know my name, I wonder? But it doesn’t matter, because I’m coming for you now and I can tell you everything you want to know about me.
My name is whatever words that come from your lips. My favorite color is teal and golden, the colors of your beautiful hair and your enchanted eyes. My favorite music is whatever you play on your shamisen. My hobby is watching you from the window and dozing off with nothing but you in my mind.
My life is devoted to you, you, and only you.
My favorite thing, out of everything, is you. It’s you, and always you, that captures my eyes and ears, heart and soul, mind and attention, now and then, forever and more. From the moment my pathetic gaze landed on you on that fateful bus, I have known that you are mine, and I am yours, until the end of the ends.
It’s been so agonizing just to look at you and fantasize about everything I desire to do with you. It’s about time for me to approach you and let you know how much you mean to me, how much I love you, how much I desire you, and how much I want you to be mine.
Can you hear it, the sound of me knocking on your door? Come open it and let me in. Let our game of hide and seek begin.
I’m at your house now, waiting for you. It seems like you have noticed me already. But why aren’t you welcoming me as you did earlier when we met on the street? Why are you hiding from me? Are you suggesting we should play a game of hide and seek? Whatever you want. I love you, and I want you, and I will go to the end of the world for you. A simple game is nothing.
I’m in your living room now. You have a majestic display of swords. It seems like you are more than just a musician. But there are only sheaths, no blades. I’m a swordsman myself, I know that it takes both to make the perfect weapon. It's OK. You can be my sheath, and I your blade. We are crafted perfectly for each other. Where are you?
I’m going to your kitchen. It looks neat and clean. There is a nice set of knives on the counter. Do you think it’s funny for swordsmen like us to succumb to the use of such tiny blades for daily cutting? Why can’t we just cut things with our swords? It’s more powerful, it’s more convenient. I’m taking one of your knives with me. Just in case. Where are you?
I’m walking on your staircase now, the staircase I have seen you walking through many times before. You may not notice this, but the window at the staircase is never curtained, making it almost too easy for me to see you. Do you do this intentionally, though? Do you want to be watched by me? Where are you?
I’m in the hallway, on your second floor. I have never seen your house so close, I have never felt you so close. I can smell you, I can hear your footsteps. I can see your silhouette, I can hear your gasp of surprise. Are you intrigued to see me? Do you want to see me? You are not in the bathroom. You are not in the guest bedroom. Where are you?
Can you hear it, the sound of me knocking on your door? Come open it and let me in. Let our game of hide and seek come to an end.
Come and open it, open your bedroom door. Never mind, I can do it. With a twist of my hand, the way is paved. For you, I’m ready to go out of my way.
Where are you now? Are you hiding behind the curtain? I come and check, but there's no sign of you. Only a cold, stark, boring wall stared at me. You aren't cold or boring, you are stark. You are warm with blood running in your veins, and you are striking like a ray of turquoise sunshine. I know that sunlight is golden, not turquoise, but I will even change the color of the sun, as long as you want.
Where are you, then? Are you under the bed? Apparently, you can't be. There's nothing but a futon here, silly me. There's no bed to hide under. You seem to be the traditional type, like me. I don't like bed, either. They hide secrets underneath, many of which I have to kill to find out. Annoying furniture.
Where are you now? Are you inside that vase? Silly me, again. You are not built to fit into that. Such a beautiful vase, with the color of purple, like the kimono I'm wearing, and will soon take off. Such beauty, though, is useless. It doesn't point you out, it doesn't give me any clue about where you are.
Where are you now? I have broken your vase, do you hear it? I'll get you a new one if you come out to me. There's no place to hide, anyway. That wardrobe, isn't it? I can hear you now, my beautiful musician. Your ragged breath. Your shaking body. Your fear. Don't be afraid of me. I love you, and I will never stop loving you, even if it means I have to end the world tomorrow.
Can you hear it, the sound of me knocking on your wardrobe door? I will open it for you and let myself in.
The game is over, I’ve found you.
"That shit is devoted to you wholeheartedly. Should I be jealous?"
"If you insist on stooping down to his level, go ahead. Although I think you're kinda desperate yourself, I daresay."
"Focus, Bansai. Look at this. His memory card is maximized with only thoughts about you. He wrote the thoughts himself. He churned out that much in only a few days, and his activity record shows that he's done nothing other than stand at the window to stare at you. You set it up so he thinks that he's your neighbor this time?"
"You made quite a fuss when I chose the doctor-patient mode, I daresay."
"You sick fucker. Wearing purple! What the fuck do you have in your mind?"
"Shinsuke, he's a robot."
"With a mind of his own. I saw it on the brand. The greatest mechanic in Edo built his kind."
"And we fished him out from the trash. It's just for fun. It's not like I will leave you for a trash robot, I daresay."
"Say that to him. Make him stop this stalking routine."
"I can't, I daresay. You cut him into pieces."
"Then wreck him forever. You can't keep it up like this, letting him get obsessed with you and stalk you over and over again, only to kill him, then reattach the parts, feed him another story and restart the process when you're bored. He learned, Bansai, he learned. This time he picked up a knife. What if I wasn't there to cut him first?"
"Then I'd be dead, I daresay."
"Moron!"
"As if you'd ever leave me alone with a man like that, I dare–"
"You blame me? Who knows what wicked bullshit you have in your fucked head?"
"The wicked bullshit is dedicated to you, Shinsuke, only you. Don't pretend like you don't know that."
"If you are to die, it has to be for me. I forbid you to die by playing with a creepy stalker robot."
"And I won't. And I daresay I'm not the only wicked one here. You enjoy killing him too, for the fun of it. Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes. And should I mention that you are desperate to know what he thinks of me?"
"It's not the problem."
"Do you?"
"I don't–"
"Then explain why you always have to retrieve his memory card and read everything he wrote before letting me restart the process. I never read any of them, I daresay."
"I–"
"Do you want to learn how to praise me from him, because your heart is so frozen?"
"What, you think I'm cold-hearted and don't know how to praise you right?"
"No, I think your heart is fucked up, it stops giving your brain the oxygen, and your brain becomes so dysfunctional it loses the ability to find the vocabulary to praise your lo–"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"So that's it. You've admitted to it. I'm your lover."
"Get lost! Fuck a robot. Die."
"I promise I won't die. And I will throw away the robot when I'm bored. But only when you are really bored as well, I daresay."
"Fuck you."
"You can do it later, I daresay. For now, I have a robot to reattach. This time, I'll make sure he remembers this conversation, especially the part where I said I'd never choose him over you. You two can fight over me, I daresay."
"Bansai?"
"Yes?"
"You're a sick fucker. Keep it up."
"I learned from the best, I daresay."
- fin -