Chapter 25. The Hollow Victory

Veil’s Body Innovation Forum was held on the top floor of Mirage Omotesandō.

The walls, the floor, the ceiling — all of it white. The lighting was LED at a temperature that does not warm a person, flooding the hall evenly, without shadow. The opposite of the dim amber lamp of the Circle beneath Life Compass. Here there was no shadow. Only number.

It had been about ten days since the live measuring. An invitation had arrived from Rui in a sealed letter, the ink silver, the characters arrogant and cold. I wish to show you Veil’s results. At the foot of the page, in a smaller line: I wish to confirm your defeat. I decided to go. Not to confirm a defeat. To see, with my own eyes, what Rui meant to show me.

Some three hundred invited guests filled the hall. Beauty, fitness, media, investors. Every face turned toward the stage.

Rui Takatsuji stood at the lectern. Silver-rimmed smart-glasses, a black turtleneck under a white jacket. She was, herself, Veil’s advertisement.

“Today, I present the outcomes of the twelfth cohort of our numerical management programme.” Rui’s voice cut the silence of the hall like a blade. “All eighteen participants achieved their target values. Today, I introduce the single most dramatic improvement.”

The screen behind her changed.

“Case S. Twenty-three. Female. Fashion model.”

On the screen, a woman’s full-body scan appeared against a white field, with rows of numbers beside it. The body was thin. Too thin. The collarbones stood out beneath the skin; the arms were fragile enough to snap; the cinch of the waist looked pressed there by the very shape of the pelvic bones beneath.

I stopped breathing.

— I knew that body.

II

Shiori Shindō. The glasswork girl who had stood in the Circle on that July afternoon a year ago. Cold fingers. A waist of fifty-six. A Core Number of thirteen point nought. The insight: You have been swallowing blades to stay beautiful. You can let them up now. And the words she had spoken on her way out: Tomorrow I’ll go to the hospital.

Half a year had passed since.

I knew Shiori had gone to the hospital. A single message had come, once. Himuro-san, I went. I’m eating, little by little. I had written back: Take it slowly. That had been the end. No more came. As a trainer I could only watch. Shiori’s story was Shiori’s.

And now — that same Shiori was up on Veil’s screen, displayed as a success case.

“Pre-programme: body fat, twenty percent. Beauty score, seventy-nine.” Rui read the numbers out flatly. “Current: body fat, eleven percent. Beauty score, ninety-six. Goal attainment, one hundred and fifteen percent.”

A murmur ran through the hall. Applause broke out in pockets.

“This case presented with a history of disordered eating and was unable to stabilise through self-management alone. Under Veil’s numerical programme, daily scans and feedback made the eating behaviour visible as data. The patient transitioned from an unstable binge-restrict cycle to the stable maintenance of low body fat.”

The stable maintenance of low body fat. That was how Rui put it. It was not a lie. On the numbers, Shiori’s body fat had indeed stabilised. The wave of binge and restrict was gone. Look at the numbers alone, and Shiori had recovered.

I looked toward the side of the stage. Shiori was standing there. Standing — or rather, being stood. Even through the sportswear I could see the angle of the bones in her shoulders. The neck had grown thinner; the cheeks were slightly hollowed. She had, without question, gone down from half a year ago.

And the eyes. That still, glassy brilliance. In Shiori’s eyes half a year ago there had been, at the bottom of an empty vessel, a small stone-like resolve. In Shiori’s eyes today — there was nothing.

“Seri.” Coh’s voice came from behind my temples. “Are you reading.”

”…I’m reading.”

“Those numbers are accurate. There is no error in Rui’s analysis.”

”— I know.”

I had to admit it. Rui’s numbers were accurate. Body fat, beauty score, the weekly fluctuation curve. Veil’s scanner was high-performance. The numbers were not wrong. The numbers were not lying.

“But the Core Number,” I asked Coh. “The FFMI.”

Coh let a moment pass.

“It has fallen. Last time, thirteen point nought. Now — twelve point two. The fat came down, and the muscle came down with it. Veil’s programme tracks the reduction of fat, but it does not build in the maintenance of the core. As a result, the beauty score on the surface rose while the core hollowed out.”

“Hollowed.”

“Yes. A victory without a core.”

III

After the presentation, I searched for the green room. At the back of the hall I found a small room for those involved. I knocked. A thin voice answered.

“Yes.”

It was Shiori. Still in the sportswear, sitting on a folding metal chair. In her hand, a protein bottle with the Veil logo. It was half-uncapped and barely drunk.

“Shindō-san.”

Shiori raised her eyes. She recognised me, and her eyes went a little wide. Then she smiled. That cracked-glass smile.

”— Himuro-san.”

“Forgive me, for coming like this. I saw the presentation.”

Shiori looked down.

”…You saw it, then.”

Silence flowed between us. The fluorescent light of the green room was white and cold.

“Shindō-san. May I speak with you.”

”…Yes.”

I sat in the chair across from her.

“You went to the hospital.”

“I went. For three months. I was able to eat, little by little, and the weight came back by three kilos. The doctor said I was doing well.”

“Then why.”

“Someone from Veil came.” Shiori’s voice was thin and wavering. “Through the agency. They said if I managed it with numbers, I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. That I could understand my own body through data. At the hospital I’d practised eating. But when I went back to work I had to be thin again. I was terrified. But with Veil, they said, I could trim down safely, watching the numbers.”

“Safely.”

“The numbers come out every day. Body fat. Beauty score. When I look at them, I feel I understand — what state I’m in. In numbers. At the hospital, I was eating by feel. But feel — I couldn’t trust it.”

Shiori’s hand was trembling. The protein bottle rattled.

“I thought — numbers don’t betray you.”

I could say nothing. Shiori was not wrong. Numbers do not betray. Rui was right. Numbers do not lie. But — numbers had not betrayed. Only, those numbers had locked Shiori into a cage a second time. An accurate cage. A cage with no way out, precisely because it was correct.

IV

“Shindō-san. Let me measure you again.” I said it. “Your outline, now.”

After a small hesitation, Shiori nodded.

”— Yes.”

I set the phone upright and started Contura.

“Close your eyes.”

A pale blue light traced the surface of Shiori’s body like water — particles running from fingertips, from neck, from shoulder, from waist. Rings of light circled her, and white numbers floated into the air.

Shoulder breadth 34 Chest 74 Waist 54 Hip 77

Waist, fifty-four. Down two centimetres from the fifty-six of half a year ago. The luminous body rose in the air. Thinner than that glasswork outline of July. Each rib rose as a line of light; the belly was hollowed. The red glow of the muscle was fainter still — the remnant ember shrunken, liable at any moment to go out.

A number floated.

Core Number 12.2

A note followed.

Your Core Number falls significantly below the average for your age cohort, and has declined since your previous measurement.

“I’ll read.”

The particles gathered, drew a line, became letters.

You swallowed the blades again. This time, not for beauty — driven by number. But you already know the words to bring them up.

V

Shiori read the letters. And she cried. Without sound. Only, the tears came. From those glassy eyes, transparent drops, falling quietly.

The same way she had cried in the Circle, half a year ago. But something was different. The tears of half a year ago had been the tears of deciding to bring the blades up. The tears of today were the tears of realising she had swallowed them again.

“I —” Shiori’s voice shook. “I got a little better, at the hospital. But when I went back to work, I was afraid. Afraid of the mirror. So I looked at the numbers. I thought, with numbers, I’d be safe.”

“Mm.”

“But every time I looked — more. If the body fat went down one more percent, I’d be more beautiful. If the score went up two more points, work would come. In the end —” Shiori looked at her own cold hands. ”— It was the same. I was swallowing blades again. New blades. The blades of number.”

I crouched down in front of her.

“Shindō-san. This time, the blades may be sharper than before. Because numbers are correct. What is correct is hard to doubt. So you don’t notice. That you’re swallowing them.”

Shiori nodded.

“But you noticed. Today. Looking at this outline.”

— Yes.

“Last time, I said it. You can let them up. It is the same, now. You can let them up. And — go back to the hospital, once more. This time, you will not be alone. I am here.”

Shiori looked for a long while at her own outline. The thin glass body hanging in the air. The ribs risen, the belly hollow, the glow of the core nearly out.

And she said it.

”— I want to come back to you, Himuro-san. I want to quit Veil.”

VI

The green-room door opened. Rui Takatsuji stood there.

Silver-rimmed smart-glasses. White jacket. A cold, composed face. Those eyes fell on Shiori’s outline hanging in the air — on Contura’s light.

“What are you doing.”

I stood.

“I read Shiori’s outline.”

“Without permission.”

“No. I had it.”

Rui’s eyes narrowed.

“She is a Veil client. Not yours.”

“Shindō-san was my client. Half a year ago. You recruited her away.”

“I did not recruit her. She chose.” Rui stepped forward. “She herself wished to understand her body through number. We provided the means. And the result —” Rui gestured toward the stage. “Body fat, eleven percent. Beauty score, ninety-six. The numbers improved. I do not know what you returned to her, but our programme is functioning.”

I bit my lip.

”— Yes. The numbers are not lying. Takatsuji-san. Your analysis is accurate. The body fat went down. The beauty score went up. I grant you all of it.”

Rui’s eyes went a little wider. She had not expected me to grant it.

“But —” I pointed at the outline in the air. “Look at the Core Number. Twelve point two. Half a year ago it was thirteen point nought. Your programme stripped the fat, but it stripped the muscle with it. The core was whittled down. The beauty score won. The core lost.”

“Muscle mass —”

“The gross may be preserved. But the Core Number is down. Relatively, the core has thinned. Your programme tracks the reduction of fat, but it does not build in the maintenance of the core.”

“That is —”

“A hollow victory.” I said it quietly, but with certainty. “A victory that scraped away the core of the body and the core of the heart. The numbers improved. But the person herself —”

I looked at Shiori. She was gripping her own cold hands. Trembling.

”— The person herself is swallowing blades again.”

Rui was silent for a long while. Behind the smart-glasses, her eyes were fixed on the outline — the ribs risen, the belly hollow, the light of the core about to go out.

”…Numbers do not lie.” Rui said it. Her voice shook, just a little. “Body fat is eleven percent. The beauty score is ninety-six. That is improvement. Whatever your story-reading says, the numbers do not change.”

“No. The numbers do not change. But the numbers are not telling the whole of it. You are not looking at the Core Number.”

”— I am looking.”

“Then why.”

“The Core Number is a secondary index.” Rui said it coldly. “The beauty score is what connects directly to the client’s wish. We are providing what the client asks for. That is business.”

Business. At that word, my chest went cold.

”— I want to go back to Himuro-san.” Shiori said it. Faint, but clearly, meeting Rui’s eyes. “I am quitting Veil. I don’t want to see my body only through number anymore.”

Rui looked at Shiori. I could not read what crossed her face. It may have been agitation. It may have been anger. Or it may have been neither — something else entirely.

”…As you wish.” Rui said it coldly. But the edge of her voice trembled, just a little. “There is no contractual restriction. However —”

Rui looked at me.

“Do you believe you can save her. In a place without number.”

“I don’t know if I can save her. But — I will be with her. I will build a place where she can look at number without being afraid of it.”

Rui said nothing. She turned on her heel and left the green room. The white back of her jacket disappeared through the door.

VII

I put Shiori into a taxi. From the Veil facility, to her apartment. I paid the fare.

Shiori pressed her forehead to the window. The streetlamps streamed past.

”— I’m sorry, Himuro-san. For troubling you again.”

“It isn’t trouble. I promised. I’m with you.”

”…Yes.”

After the taxi had gone, I walked to Omotesandō station. The night wind was cold. Even for a July night, I was shivering.

“Coh.”

“Mm.”

“Rui’s numbers were right. All of them. Not one was wrong. Body fat, beauty score, the precision of the analysis. All accurate. I grant it.”

“Mm.”

“But Shiori was broken. Swallowing blades again. Even though the numbers were correct — no, because the numbers were correct, Shiori could not doubt them. Correctness became the cage.”

Coh let a moment pass.

“Correctness and kindness are not the same thing, Seri.”

”…No.”

“To be accurate is not to be kind. To make a person believe the correct numbers are all there is — that, sometimes, is the cruelest cage of all. Rui is correct. But because she is correct, she does not notice. What she is shaving away.”

I went down the station stairs. I sat on the bench on the platform. There was still time before the train.

My body was heavy. The Reader’s tiredness — that fatigue that resonates up from the marrow of the bones. To read a person’s story is to whittle down one’s own body. I had read by passing through Shiori’s pain. That pain was still inside me.

But heavier than that was something else.

Rui had been right. The technology had been accurate. I had to grant it — all of it. And despite all of it being right — Shiori had been hurt.

A correct technology that hurts a person. That is not a bug or an error. It is the design. To raise the beauty score, strip the body fat. Within that design, neither the maintenance of the core nor the care of the heart has been built in. It is not that anyone intends to hurt. It is only — the body is being seen as an aggregate of numbers. That is Rui’s philosophy.

I understood at last. The contest with Rui was not a competition of technical precision. It was a question of what you take a body to be. An aggregate of numbers, or the shape of a story. That is not a question of technology. It is a war of philosophy.

“Coh.”

“Mm.”

“I’m tired.”

”— Yes. You may rest.”

I leaned back against the bench. The ceiling of the platform was a cold concrete grey. The lighting was white. The same white as the lighting at Mirage Omotesandō.

A thought came to me, unbidden. Tomorrow, I would see Sono. Sono’s high Core Number. That pride in muscle. The strength of someone who boasts of her body. That was what I needed, now.

A shield against Rui’s philosophy.

A train slid into the platform. The doors opened. I stood.

My body was heavy. But Shiori had come back. I would guard her once more. I would not leave the hollow victory standing any longer.

For that —

I boarded the train. Toward Aoyama, where Sono was.

—

On the train, I read a sentence that had surfaced on Contura’s old screen without my noticing.

What is hidden behind perfect numbers — only the body knows.

I pressed that sentence into the floor of my chest.

Tomorrow, I move. To prove that the story holds something numbers cannot be reduced to. To prove it, first, beside a body that is proud.

—

(Continued in Chapter 26. Sono’s Shield)