Pablo Purikesso

It was another day in late October when Chihiro set off for Itsuki’s place.

The journey was some twenty minutes from the family home by bus. Getting off at the stop nearest to her brother’s apartment, Chihiro carefully scoped out her surroundings. She had run into this sexual deviant who asked to see her ass and then physically assaulted her back in the spring, and she had seen the guy a second time in this area around four months ago. Whenever she was in the neighborhood since, she had been keeping a watchful eye out for the criminal.

Between the bus stop and the nearby supermarket lay a fairly large public park that Chihiro sometimes cut across when she had the time. It was nice and green, with lots of trees to look at as you strolled along. It also had a futsal field, a basketball court, and a climbing wall, so it was almost always filled with young people. Seeing them sweat it out on the fields made her want to exercise a bit herself.

Chihiro was no slouch when it came to staying fit, but she had never played sports before, either officially for school or as part of a club. There hadn’t been much money to spare around the house until her mother remarried, so Chihiro had helped her with chores and some of her side jobs instead. Things were more comfortable now, but Chihiro still didn’t like extracurriculars that kept her away from home for long periods of time. She had a new family, and she wanted to cherish them.

…Huh?

Walking down the path, she noticed a crowd gathered at a stretch of asphalt used as an event space. You occasionally saw musicians and street performers there, so it was probably something like that. Chihiro approached out of curiosity, close enough to hear some of the onlookers.

“I don’t get it, but it’s pretty awesome.”

“Is he imitating Pablo Picasso?”

“It’s like he has this crazy aura. It’s making my sixth sense tingle.”

The feedback was positive, if a little jumbled. Chihiro stood up on tiptoe to peer through the crowd—and then let out a stifled yelp. The deviant was right there. His back was turned to her, a French beret perched on his head, but there was no mistaking his unique hairstyle.

He was facing a large canvas, all but slamming an artist’s paintbrush against it. His strokes were broad yet delicate and carefully aimed. What he painted wasn’t immediately clear at first—maybe a tree, maybe a human figure. There were a few trees behind the canvas, a young couple or two making out underneath them, so maybe that’s what he was portraying.

Chihiro, lacking any understanding of art beyond what she’d learned in school, couldn’t judge his art skills or technical ability, but she was drawn to his work nonetheless. No one would ever mistake it for a photo, but it was so raw, with its own reality that seemed to jump off the canvas.

“Hmm… I think that oughtta be good for today… Huh?”

The man made an odd face. He must have just realized he had an audience.

Oh crap!

Turning on her heels, Chihiro tried to get away. It only made her easier to notice.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!”

He pointed at Chihiro, screaming.

“Eep…!” Now Chihiro was trying to dash away at full speed. But:

“I’m sorryyyyyyyy!!”

The pervert leaped toward Chihiro, only to land on the asphalt, head and forearms rubbing against the ground. He was prostrating himself before her, and in extraordinarily acrobatic fashion.

“Huh? Huhhh?!”

Chihiro was too flummoxed to keep running. The pervert stayed on the ground.

“I’m really sorry that I tried forcing down your undies back then!” He was still shouting.

The audience began to murmur.

“Her what?”

“Forcing…?”

“Is this some kind of lover’s spat?”

“S-stop shouting that at the top of your lungs!” a visibly reddened Chihiro protested. “And stop bowing like that!”

The deviant looked up. “Listen, I was willing to do anything to see you again! I wanted to fully apologize, and I wanted to ask you for one more favor!”

“F-favor?”

“Let me see your ass!”

“No!”

Chihiro darted away from the event space. The criminal gave chase.

“You never give up…”

She ran until fewer people were around, then stopped.

“Let me see your ass!”

“I said no!” Chihiro sighed. “Why do you want to see, um, my butt so badly?”

“Because you’ve got the ass of the millennium! It’s divine!”

“You’re making zero sense…”

The pervert looked the bewildered Chihiro straight in the eye. “If I can use your ass as a model, I would totally hit max level as an artist!”

“An artist…? Do you paint for a living?”

“Well, I make money off it! I have some books out!”

…Certainly, his performance in the park was pro-level. It drew Chihiro in, as it did the rest of the crowd. Maybe he was somebody really famous.

“Um, what’s your name?”

“Pablo Purikesso.”

The man was clearly Japanese; that had to be a nom de plume. Chihiro knew that a lot of illustrators used them. Did “real” artists do that, too?

“Um… Okay. So you want to use my butt in your art, Pablo?”

“Yes!”

“…Why my butt?”

“Because I love asses!”

He was dead certain about his preferences, at least. Chihiro had to marvel at the pure, unadulterated passion in his eyes. It reminded her of her brother—and that stoked her curiosity.

“How old are you, Pablo?” she asked.

“Sixteen. Seventeen next month.”

Just as she thought—nearly the same age as her.

“Where do you go to high school?”

“I don’t!”

“You quit?”

“Ah, it was just, like, I didn’t think I really needed to go. I never went in the first place.”

Itsuki quitting college without any warning had been enough of a shock. The idea of so many people abandoning things that felt so important to Chihiro without a second glance… She could never do that.

“…Wow. I’m kind of jealous actually. Being able to do what you want for a living.”

“You think so? Why don’t you do what you want?”

“…You know it’s not that easy. You don’t even know what I have to deal with.”

This sounded harsher than Chihiro intended at first. But Pablo wasn’t deterred. “Yeah, I guess not,” he casually replied. “By the way, can I see your ass now?”

“What do you mean ‘now’?!”

“Oh…” Pablo seemed oddly confused. “Well, like, we’re getting along and stuff now, so I thought, hey, maybe it’s ass time.”

“We’re not getting along!”

“We aren’t?! Well, what do I have to do to see your ass?!”

“You don’t have to do anything! I’m not showing it to you!”

“Can’t you…reconsider?!”

Pablo’s eyes remained locked on Chihiro, who was instinctively rearing back a bit.

“I’m never going to, all right?!”

“I’ll pay you!”

“I don’t need your money!”

“I’ll do anything!”

“It’s all right, thanks!”

“You can just give me a quick down-and-up flash!”

“I’m not gonna flash you, okay?!”

“Okay, halfway down! You can show me half your ass, right?!”

“Not even half!”

“Why now?! You see girls showing off half their asses in low-rise swimsuits at the beach all the time! It’s the same thing!”

“I don’t wear those!”

“Please! I’m begging you!” Pablo leaped straight into another flying bow.

“Y-you can beg me all you want, but I’m not budging! I need to go, all right?”

Chihiro turned around and jogged away from Pablo.

“W-waaaaaaaaait!”

His face contorted in agony, Pablo reached out and grabbed the waist area of Chihiro’s tracksuit. The pants, along with the underpants below, slipped down, revealing much of the top half of the Ass of the Millennium.

“~~~~~~~~~~!!”

“Ohhh…”

Pablo’s eyes bugged out. He looked like he was experiencing nothing short of a religious epiphany.

Chihiro blushed intently in shame, eyes tearing up as she slapped Pablo’s hands away and hiked up her pants.

“You…creep!!!!”

A rage-driven roundhouse caught Pablo right on the cheek.

“Grrpphhh!!”

With a loud groan, Pablo’s body bounced against the ground.

“Don’t ever come near me again!” Chihiro shouted as she ran off.

Pablo, head resting against the ground as he watched, still had a blissful smile. “I saw it… I saw the ultimate ass…”

Then he passed out.

Several days later, the cubist painting Pablo left standing on his easel in the park was spotted by a passing art dealer. It generated buzz among certain circles, valued at several million yen despite the lack of artist credit, and Setsuna “Pablo Purikesso” Ena would never know.