Tatami Galaxy

by Morimi Tomihiko
Translated by Dustin Liaw and Deedee Lu
Translation Checking and Editing by Griffin Ham

Thank you for reading,

Cadet Nine Translations
Table of Contents
The 4 ½-Tatami Third Wheel.....................................................................................................................4
The 4½-Tatami Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War........................................................................................41
The 4½-Tatami Sugar-coated Life...........................................................................................................82
Around the Tatami Galaxy in Eighty Days............................................................................................122
 Chapter 1
The 4 ½-Tatami Third Wheel

In the two years before the spring of my junior year of college, I accomplished not a single thing of practical
use. Instead of building healthy relationships with the opposite sex, studying diligently, training my body, and
undertaking other activities directed towards becoming a productive member of society, I isolated myself from
women, abandoned my studies, and let my health fall to ruin. Yet, despite having struck out already, why is it that
I continued to labor away hoping for the pieces to fall into place?
I must inquire of the responsible party. Where is the culprit?
It is not that I have always been in this condition.
I was born pure as the driven snow and as charming as the infant Prince Genji; with nary an impure thought
in my head, my radiant smile spread the light of love across the hills and valleys of my hometown. I am doubtful
whether that is still the case today. Each time that I look in a mirror I fly into a rage, asking ‘Why have you
become like this? Is this the sum of your current existence?’
There are those who say that I am still young, and that people are things that may yet change.
How ridiculous.
It is said that the child is the father of the man. And with this year, another one will be added to my twenty, and
the end of my splendid quarter-century youth will soon approach. What outcome, then, would further clumsy
efforts to change my personality bring about? At this stage, if I attempt to twist something that has already set
and hardened, the most I’ll do is break it.
At this moment, I must pull myself upward into leading a respectable life. I must not avert my eyes from the
grim reality that lies before me.
And yet, somehow, it is unbearable to look.

　　　　　　　○

Since it is said that those who interfere with the romance of others are fated to be trampled to death by
horses, I stayed far away from the lonely stables at the north end of campus. If I were ever to approach the
horse-riding grounds I would certainly be attacked by a band of rampaging horses, which would jump the fences
and trample me until the leftover scraps of my flesh would no longer be fit even for sukiyaki. For the same
reason, I was deathly afraid of the Kyoto mounted police corps.
Allow me to explain why I was so afraid of horses. I was once notorious for being the Destroyer of Love. A
Black Cupid dressed in the robes of a reaper, I traded my bow and arrows for a scythe, hacking apart the red
threads of fate with laser accuracy. Countless tears were shed by young lovebirds as a result of my exploits.
This was certainly the height of depravity; of that much, at least, I am aware.
It’s possible that prior to entering university, I had trembled slightly with excitement at the possibility of rosy
associations with members of the opposite sex. During the first few months of my college career, such things
were hardly a stretch of the imagination, but nevertheless I earnestly pledged to myself that I would not become
a beast, but would instead go forth, gently and politely courting beautiful maidens. At any rate, I thought myself
prepared to overlook men and women throwing away reason to engage in experimental natural philosophy.
Before I knew it though, I had lost all composure and transformed into a scoundrel, feeling nothing but joy at
the sound of those fateful red threads snapping. It wasn’t long before I came to inhabit back alleys of broken
love, where the scraps of those strings floated in puddles of bitter tears, and the one who was responsible for
leading me down those pathways of desperation was a despicable man who was both my sworn enemy and
closest friend.

　　　　　　　○

Ozu is a student the same year as I. Though he is a member of the electrical engineering department, he
hates electricity, electronics and engineering. His first-year grades were so borderline that I wondered if there
was any point to him being in university at all. He, however, wasn’t concerned in the slightest.
Because he despises vegetables and adheres strictly to a diet of fast food, he has the extremely eerie look
and complexion of someone from the far side of the moon. If you were to meet him the street late at night eight
out of ten people would mistake him for a youkai. The remaining two people are certainly youkai themselves.
Cruelly beating the weak, groveling to the strong, selfish, self-assured, lazy, a complete demon, neglecting
studies, lacking a shred of pride, feeding off the unhappiness of others he was able to eat three square meals a
day. There is not a single part of him that is praiseworthy. If I had never met him my soul surely would have been
cleaner for it.
Keeping that in mind, setting foot into the Misogi Movie Circle in the spring of my freshman year was most
assuredly a mistake.

　　　　　　　○

At the time, I was still a sparkling freshman. The cherry trees had shed their flowers, clad now in an
invigorating verdant hue. Upon entering the university grounds, each first-year was immediately pressed with
club fliers, I with so many that they could not be processed by a single person. Among those sundry fliers, only
four caught my attention: Misogi Movie Circle, a mysterious call for disciples, Honwaka Softball Circle, and the
Lucky Cat Restaurant secret society. Each of these had its own air of suspicion, yet was its own doorway to a yet
unknown campus life, and I was filled with inquisitiveness, thinking that no matter which I chose a fascinating
future lay ahead. The only reason I thought this was because I was a hopeless fool.
After lectures, I directed my steps towards the university clock tower. It seemed that many circles were
holding new member information sessions in that vicinity.
Around the base of the clock tower milled throngs of freshmen, their faces still blushing with springs of hope,
as well as crafty circle members, eager to prey on those same hopes. Thinking that among these countless
circles lay an entrance to the phantasmic illusion of the entrance to a rosy student life, I wandered around in a
lightheaded daze.
The first thing I noticed was a group of students holding a billboard displaying “Misogi Movie Circle”. It looked
like they were screening a movie as a way of welcoming potential new recruits. In hindsight, I should not have
continued beyond that point. My decision to join the club that day must be attributed to the fact that I was
deluded by honey-laced slogans like “Let’s Have Fun Making Movies” into holding unreasonable expectations. In
my excitement at the prospect of a rosy future making a hundred friends I forget myself, and from that day on I
embarked upon the path of a beast, acquiring not friends, but countless enemies.
Upon entering Misogi, I was completely unable to integrate into the irritatingly congenial atmosphere. I told
myself over and over that this was merely a trial I needed to overcome, that by entering this abnormally cheerful
group, I would attain a rosy student life, beautiful raven-haired maidens, and eventually the entire world. But in
the end, my hopes were crushed.
Backed into a dark corner, I suddenly noticed a face of ill portent appear beside me. I thought it was an evil
spirit that only someone of my delicate nature could see.
That was the first meeting between Ozu and me.

　　　　　　　○

After that fateful encounter, the next two years flew by. It was the end of my third May in university. I sat in my
beloved 4½-tatami room, glaring at the despicable Ozu.
I lived in a boarding house called Shimogamo Yūsuisō, which is located in Shimogamo Izumigawa. I had
heard that the place had burned down in the chaos at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, was rebuilt in exactly
the same fashion, and had not been renovated since. If it hadn’t been for the light leaking out of the windows,
one could be forgiven for mistaking it for an abandoned ruin. When I first visited this place during the co-op
association tour after orientation I thought I had wandered into Kowloon Walled City. Just looking at its crumbling
wooden frame was enough to induce anxiety, and it was probably sufficiently dilapidated that it could be placed
on the list of Japan’s Important Cultural Properties. Yet if it were to burn down I doubt that anyone would even
bat an eye. Even the landlord who lives to the east would most certainly be relieved.
That particular night, Ozu had come to my residence for a visit. The two of us gloomily gulped down sake.
“Gimme something to eat!” Ozu demanded. I broke out my hot plate and grilled some fish burgers, but Ozu
devoured his in one bite and then proceeded to make even more extravagant requests: “You got any real meat?
I could go for beef tongue with leeks right now.” In a rage I shoved a sizzling hot fish burger into his mouth, but
after seeing great teardrops roll silently down his cheeks I was obliged to forgive him.
At the start of the month, after two years of relentlessly ruining every relationship we came across in Misogi,
we had finally withdrawn from the circle. Though it is considered good manners to clean up after yourself, Ozu
and I combined our efforts in order to leave behind a mess muddier than the waters of the Yellow River.
I continued my association with Ozu, but even after we left the circle he seemed to keep himself busy with all
sorts of schemes. He seemed to have a hand in the sports circles and even in the activities of the secret society.
The real reason he came to my room that night was because he was also visiting a certain resident of the
Shimogamo Yūsuisō on the second floor. Ozu called that person “Master”, and had been coming and going from
that residence since our first year. The reason that this miserable relationship between Ozu and I hadn’t already
been severed was not only because we were always pushed into the same dark corners of the circles we joined,
but also because he was always visiting my boarding house. Even when I inquired as to the nature of this
Master, Ozu simply put on a loathsome, obscene grin and refused to answer. I came to the conclusion that he
was some sort of Master of Smut.
Misogi and I had already completely broken off relations, but Ozu, who seemed to have ears everywhere,
constantly wafted fresh gossip my way. We had thrown away what little honor we had left for the sake of our little
revolution. But according to Ozu, our protests, which we had risked life and limb for, had brought no change to
the circle.
With a little help from the alcohol, I became predictably belligerent. Since I had been banished from the circle,
my life had fallen into a mundane cycle of commuting back and forth to campus Now, though, I felt a vindictive
zeal stirring again within me. Fanning flames was something that Ozu was unconscionably good at.
“Say, still feel like doing that thing we talked about?,” he asked, his body undulating like a sea cucumber.
“Yeah...”
“Then it’s decided! I’ll get everything ready and be there at dusk tomorrow.”
Looking exceptionally pleased, he left to return to whatever hole he came from.
I felt like I’d been had.
I tried to fall asleep, but the Chinese exchange students on the second floor were having a raucous get-
together, which made sleep quite a difficult prospect. Feeling slight pangs of hunger, I decided to take a trip to
Neko Ramen. Rising from my futon, I left my room to wander the darkened streets.

　　　　　　　○

Purely by chance, that night I met the god who lived on the second floor of Shimogamo Yūsuisō.
Neko Ramen is a fabled ramen stand which is rumored to make its broth out of cats, but whether that is true
or not the taste is unparalleled. It is not my place to disclose the location where it makes its frequent
appearances, so I shall not put the details into writing here. However I will say that it can be found in the area
around Shimogamo Shrine.
I trembled as I slurped up the ramen, wavering between ecstasy and terror at the incomparable taste. Another
customer came in and seated himself beside me. I glanced at him and was immediately taken aback by his very
odd appearance. Dressed in a dark blue yukata and tengu geta, he strangely resembled an ascetic hermit.
Looking askance at him from my bowl, I seemed to recall seeing this fellow many times in Shimogamo Yūsuisō:
a figure retreating up the creaking staircase; a profile out in the sunshine below the clotheslines getting his
haircut by some female exchange student; a silhouette at the communal sinks washing some mysterious fruit.
The hair on top of his eggplant-shaped head was as disheveled as if a typhoon had just blown through, and
there was an easygoing look in his eyes. It was difficult to tell how old he was; he resembled a middle-aged man,
and yet he may just as well have been a university student. Of course, I didn’t even imagine that he could be a
god.
He and the shopkeeper exchanged pleasantries like they were old friends. Once he turned to his noodles,
though, he slurped the entire bowl up with the force of Niagara Falls flowing in reverse. He drained his bowl of
broth before I had finished eating; it was practically a superhuman feat. Once he had finished, he turned to
scrutinize me carefully. After a while he spoke, with a peculiarly old-fashioned elocution.
“You are a resident of Shimogamo Yūsuisō, are you not?”
 Seeing me nod, he smiled, looking quite satisfied.
“I am also a resident there. A pleasure.”
“Likewise,” I replied, and on that note I was quite prepared to end the conversation. However he continued to
stare boldly at me and nodded knowingly, muttering, “I see, so you are the one.” Though I was still feeling the
effects of my previous alcoholic indiscretions, I nevertheless felt wary of this overly familiar fellow. For a moment
I considered whether he might not be the long-lost brother I was separated from ten years ago, but that was
impossible seeing as I had no brother to separate from in the first place.
Finishing my ramen, I stood up to leave, but the man stood up as well, and fell into step beside me without
missing a beat. Producing a cigar, he lit up and proceeded to puff out smoke. Though I attempted to quicken my
pace, he managed to stay right beside me without seeming to exert himself in the slightest. One might have
thought him to be a wizard. What a nuisance, I thought, when suddenly he spoke again.

　　　　　　　○

“They say time flies like an arrow, but it is a most vexing thing how the seasons come around one after
another. I haven’t the slightest idea how much time has passed since the creation of the heavens and earth, but
from the looks of it it doesn’t seem to have been very long at all. For so many humans to have been born in such
a trifling amount of time is quite amazing. And they spend each day laboring away; industrious creatures, aren’t
they? It’s quite splendid, and I must say that I am quite fond of them. But no matter how endearing they are,
there are so many of them that it simply isn’t possible to commiserate with them all.
“Once fall comes, we must again go to Izumo, and don’t make light of the train fare. In the past we pored over
every matter quite carefully, and even spent entire nights having great arguments and disputes over singular
issues, but these days we don’t have that kind of leisurely time to spend. Now we simply toss everything into the
‘Resolved’ box without even looking; it’s quite a wretched state of affairs. No matter how we rack our brains to
put these relationships together, clueless men let opportunities slip out from under their noses, so that the
women that they should have had in their grasp become entwined with other men. So you see, it’s worthless to
even pray for some backbone; you might as well try to empty the water from Lake Biwa with a ladle.
“Except for the tenth month, Kannazuki, we labor drawing up all these schemes every day. There are those
that do it with a glass of wine in one hand while picking at their noses with the other, using lots to decide
everything, but I am far too earnest to decide the fates of these poor creatures like that. Against my better
judgment I get drawn into their lives; I look at each one carefully, worrying about them as if they were myself.
Sometimes I tear my hair out struggling to draw up an appropriate encounter. It’s almost like marriage counseling
in a way. Is this what a god should be doing? That is why I smoke too much, my hair has become thin, and why I
gorge myself on castellas. I have to eat herbal medicine for my indigestion, I suffer from insomnia and wake
before dawn every day, and my jaw hurts on account of my stress. The doctor says that I should take things
easy, but is carrying the fate of so many humans something to be taken so lightly?
“The other gods certainly aren’t so serious, taking 20,000 league cruises on grand sailing ships, all the while
carelessly gulping down champagne in the company of bunny girls. They make fun of me, saying things like
‘That guy is hopeless. No matter how much we reason with him he won’t let loosen up’, and so forth. I can see
through the act, you fools! What a disgraceful lot. Why is it that year after year I am the only one to undertake
this business of connecting these threads of fate? Surely I can be forgiven for wondering why I continue to walk
this path.
“Don’t you think so?”

　　　　　　　○

What was this odd person babbling on about?

“Who are you?” I inquired, stopping on Mikage Street just east of where it meets Shimogamo Boulevard.
Across from us, the darkened Tadasu Forest rustled around the long, deserted road to Shimogamo Shrine
stretching to the north. On the distant shrine grounds the orange glow of paper lanterns burned faintly.
“A god, my good fellow. I am a god,” he said nonchalantly, pointing at me. “My name is
Kamotaketsunuminokami.”
“C-come again?”
“Kamotaketsunomimokamo...Kamotaketsunuminokami, that is. Don’t make me say it again, I’ll bite my
tongue.” He pointed towards the murky shrine road.
“Didn’t you know? And to think that you live right near Shimogamo Shrine.”
I had visited the shrine before, but this was the first I had heard of this god’s existence. Kyoto abounds with
venerated ancient shrines, but among them Shimogamo stands out as one of the foremost, even being
designated as a World Heritage site. It was too much of a stretch to imagine that this man could be the god of
such a prominent shrine; at best he might be an immortal hermit, at worst a god of poverty. There was no way he
could be the vessel of a god of Shimogamo Shrine.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he sighed.
I nodded.
“Disappointing, disappointing indeed,” he said, not seeming disappointed in the slightest. The night breeze
carried the sweet scent of his cigar toward me. Across the avenue, the eerie murmurs of the forest were making
me uneasy. While he was turned away tending to his cigar, I began to walk away, hoping to make my escape
quickly. No good could come from associating with this mysterious fellow.
“Just wait a moment now,” he called out to me. “I know everything about you. Your parents’ names, the sour
smells you always produced as a baby, your nickname in elementary school, the cultural festival in middle
school, your fleeting first love in high school...of course that too ended in failure. The excitement, or rather, the
shock you experienced from watching your first adult video, your wanderings as a ronin after failing your first
round of entrance exams, your days of sloth and vice after entering university...”
“You can’t be serious...”
“I know everything,” he nodded confidently. “For instance, I know how your attempt to expose the
contemptuous behavior of a man named Jōgasaki by screening a guerrilla film during a film festival ended with
you ‘voluntarily’ exiling yourself from the film circle. And the reason you have spent the last two years in such a
timid state...”
“Th-that’s because Ozu – ” I involuntarily blurted out, but the man raised a hand to stop me.
“I accept that your soul has been tainted under the influence of Ozu. However, that’s not all, is it?”
 The mortifying events of the past two years suddenly went whirling through my head like images on a
revolving paper lantern. Here in the sacred grove of Shimogamo Shrine of all places, my heart was seized so
painfully by all these thorny memories I wanted to scream. Despite this I managed to restrain myself like a
proper gentleman. The self-styled Kamotaketsunuminokami gazed upon me with mirth as I writhed in inner
turmoil.
“...this is none of your business,” I growled.
He shook his head upon hearing my words.
“Take a look at this.”
From within the folds of his yukata, he produced a dirty sheaf of papers and shuffled towards the fluorescent
light of a nearby information board, beckoning me to approach. I walked towards him like a moth drawn to a
flame.
Each time he flipped through the ledger he had produced, a hundred years’ worth of dust flew into the air, and
here and there the pages were worm-eaten through and through. The man licked his fingers for traction as he
turned the pages, no doubt ingesting a fair amount of dust as well.
“Here it is.”
The place he was pointing to was near the end of the book. On the grimy grey page brushstrokes spelled out
a woman’s name, my name, and Ozu’s name. The lettering was so terribly ostentatious it was as if whoever
wrote it imagined himself some sort of powerful god.
“When autumn comes, we gather at Izumo to match couples together. Surely you’ve heard of this. I am
tasked with hundreds of these issues, among which is this particular case. You understand what I mean, don’t
you?”
“I haven’t the slightest.”
“Really now, you’re even more stupid than I thought you were. To summarize then, I am planning to match
this woman you know, Akashi, with someone,” the god said.“In other words, it is a contest between you and
Ozu.”
The Tadasu Forest rumbled and swayed with black gusts of wind.

　　　　　　　○

The next day I sat up in my musty bed just past noon. Recalling my idiotic actions of the previous night, my
face turned a modest shade of red.
Last night at the Neko Ramen cart a god of Shimogamo Shrine who lived on the second floor of my boarding
house had turned up, claiming that he was planning to match Akashi and me together. Surely I was letting my
convenient fantasies get out of hand. Allowing loneliness to loosen the bands around one’s heart and
overindulging in daydreams is shameless and certainly unbecoming of a gentleman.
Nevertheless, the previous night’s meeting with that god did not seem remarkable in the least. He hadn’t
performed any miracles, nor were there any sudden crashes of lightning. There were no fox or bird familiars
there to show him deference. It was nothing more than an ordinary case of a god showing up to a ramen stand
and sitting down beside you. Somehow the lack of spectacle made it seem all the more convincing, but that still
wasn’t enough to prove anything.
 Ascertaining the truth would surely be simple; all I would need to do is ascend to the second floor and meet
with this so-called god face to face. But if the door opened and the god from last night appeared and asked
politely who I was, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Or if he said “Yah, I got you good!”, I wouldn’t be able to look
him in the eye. After that, the rest of my life would surely become a miserable downward spiral of self-loathing.
“Come visit me when you’ve made up your mind. Second floor, end of the hall. But I want a reply within three
days; after all, I’m a busy fellow, ” he had said.
After having done nothing but commute back and forth between the boarding house and campus for the past
two years, allowing myself to be thrown into confusion by these delusions felt like a stain on my honor. Chanting
Buddhist mantras ceaselessly, I fought to keep these flights of fancy from carrying me away like a balloon rising
into the May sky.
Speaking of which, that self-styled god had said that he was going to Izumo to tie knots between couples with
the red threads of fate. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
From my bookshelf I fished out an encyclopedia.

　　　　　　　○

Kannazuki, also known as the tenth lunar month, is the time of year when the myriad gods gather at Izumo,
leaving the other prefectures of Japan unattended. This is common knowledge, even for someone like myself.
Without going into too much detail about the exact breakdown, there are roughly eight million gods, which
equals about one-fifteenth of the current population of Japan. Among that number, there are certainly going to be
a few odd ones in the group, just like how even prestigious universities have their share of idiots wriggling about.
The thing I had been wondering was what exactly the gods discussed at their gathering in Izumo. I imagined
that it was things like strategies to counteract global warming, or the globalization of the economy. For all the
gods from every corner of the country to gather and spend an entire month in discussion, this must undoubtedly
be an illustrious conclave, embroiling the gods in heated debates concerning matters of great import. It is
unthinkable that it would involve getting together with friends and having unsavory conversations over hotpot.
Wouldn’t that just be the same as a bunch of moronic college students?
That day in the boarding house, as I peered at my encyclopedia, a truly dreadful reality presented itself before
my eyes.
The textbook detailed the heated matchmaking process the gods at Izumo used to link men and women
together. It turns out the sole purpose of the assembly in Izumo was to tangle the red threads of fate. It looked
like that shady god at the ramen cart was speaking the truth.
I shook with blasphemous rage.
Did they really have nothing better to do?

　　　　　　　○

To get my mind off these things I threw myself into my studies. However, while glaring at my textbooks, I
began to feel that doing this was nothing more than a greedy effort to recover the last two fruitless years of my
life. This unseemly conduct was a repudiation of my personal ideals, and acting in accordance with my principles
I gallantly put my books away. This was perhaps the most gentlemanly thing to do.
Now that it had come to this, I had no recourse but to turn to Ozu to provide me with the report that I needed
to turn in. The Secret Society had a print shop wherein one could order and acquire counterfeit assignments. I
had relied on their services for so long that without Ozu to serve as an intermediary to get me what I needed
from the print shop, I would be in very dire straits. I was worn out, both physically and mentally. My inability to
extricate myself from Ozu was also in part due to this illicit connection.
Though May had not yet ended, it was so humid that it already felt like summer. The window was thrown open
so wide that I invited accusations of indecent exposure, yet the air inside remained stagnant. In this musty
space, mysterious substances commingled and fermented, and like amber-colored whisky from the barrels at
Yamazaki Distillery would surely intoxicate anyone who entered this 4½-tatami space even for a moment. Upon
opening the door that led out into the corridor, the kittens that wandered the boarding house tiptoed into the
room, mewing boldly. They were so cute that I almost wanted to eat them up, but I would not stoop so low as to
do such a savage thing as that. Even if I were to be clad in only a pair of underpants, I must always act befitting
a gentleman. After rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, I promptly chased them out.
Closing the door, I flopped down like a log. I tried to get lost in more licentious daydreams, but that didn’t go
well. I tried to think of ways to seize the rosy future of my dreams, but that didn’t go well either. Getting irritated at
this, that, and everything else, the only thing that seemed to be going well was the worsening of my headache. I
took my frustrations out on the cockroaches that scurried through every corner of my room, smashing the
unlucky ones to smithereens.
Since I had gotten up so late, the day was swiftly turning to dusk. The rays of the setting sun pierced my
window, further worsening my mood. I wanted to be like the brooding Yoshimune like on the old TV show, riding
a magnificent white steed along the shoreline under the golden sunlight. Unfortunately I, the Destroyer of Love,
was afraid of horses.
Tormented by these unwanted, vacillating thoughts, my mind turned to the approaching rendezvous with Ozu.
Dwelling on my frustrations seemed like a waste of time. Did I really believe if I continued with this masochistic
internal battle that someday the Buddha would pull up this dangling spider’s thread and pat me on the head like
in the legends of old? In the end, the spider’s thread might snap, plunging me back into a 4½-tatami hell, my
plight nothing more than entertainment for the Buddha.
At five in the afternoon, the only result of these giddy and masochistic delusions was that Ozu came to find
me sulking.
“Ill-tempered as ever, I see,” were his first words to me.
“I could say the same about you,” I snapped in return.
Ozu’s face was as grimy as the boarding house’s communal restroom, though I couldn’t be sure if the faint
smell of ammonia coming off him was just a figment of my imagination. We stared at each other, two twenty-
something miscreants under the sweltering setting sun. Negativity only breeds more negativity, and it only goes
downhill from there. I was already fed up with it.
“Are the preparations complete?” I asked.
In reply, Ozu just shook the plastic bag he was carrying, shifting the venomously red, green, and blue tubes
inside.
“Well, there’s nothing for it. Let’s go”, I said.
 　
　　　　　　　○
　
Ozu and I left the Kowloon-esque Shimogamo Yūsuisō and went out into the deserted streets. Proceeding
down Mikage Street, we passed the road to Shimogamo Shrine and came to Shimogamo Boulevard. Crossing
the boulevard at the Kyoto Family Court, the Aoi Bridge across the Kamo River came into view. The glorious
evening view of the crystal clear waters of the flowing river was wasted on the two shockingly sinister looking
youths standing on the bridge. Folding our arms, we gazed downstream. There were beautiful sunbathed leaves
budding on both sides of the river beneath the gradually darkening sky. Further down the river, a steady stream
of buses and cars could be seen crossing the Great Kamo Bridge. Even from this far away we could faintly make
out college students frolicking on the riverside. Soon, that playground would become a hell of agonized screams.
“We really are doing this, aren’t we?” I commented.
“Didn’t you say yesterday that you were prepared to unleash divine judgement?” said Ozu.
“Of course, from our perspective it’s divine wrath. To everyone else, this seems like a stupid prank.”
Ozu laughed scornfully.
“So you’re going to worry about what they think and turn your back on your own convictions? That doesn’t
sound like the man I pledged my body and soul to.”
“Shut up.”
The only reason he verbalized such sickening assertions was to push my buttons and stir up a delightful
argument for him to partake in. Seeing other people argue pointlessly was this troll’s favorite form of
entertainment, his raison d’etre.
Despite outwardly scorning his idiocy, I stayed faithful to my own convictions and took the initiative. “Alright,
time to do this. Let’s go,” I declared.
We crossed over to the west bank of the Kamogawa River and headed downstream. Where Takano River
from the northeast and Kamogawa River from the northwest meet, they become the Kamo River. Students call
the upside-down triangle at the confluence of the two rivers the Kamo Delta. From spring to early summer, the
location is often used to hold welcoming parties for incoming freshmen.
As we approached the Kamo Delta, many laughing, chattering people seated on spread-out blue sheets
came into view. Becoming even more cautious, we hid ourselves in the darkness under the Demachi Bridge. If
we were spotted by the cavorting members of the enemy camp, as in the ancient Battle of Ichinotani, our
audacious surprise attack would come to naught.
I took out the fireworks from the plastic bag and laid them out on the ground while Ozu produced the Carl
Zeiss monocular he had borrowed from me and surveyed the opposite shore.
I lit up a cigarette, the fumes quickly dispersing in the brisk evening breeze. A father walking with his children
on the bridge gave us a suspicious glance as he passed. However this was no time for us to worry about
passersby. We were obligated to follow through with our convictions.
“How does it look?” I asked.
“Everyone from our year is there, huehuehue. But I don’t see Aijima or Jōgasaki.”
“Why would those drunkards ever be late to a party? What’s wrong with them?” I huffed. “Without those two
there’s no point in a surprise attack.”
“Ah, there’s Akashi.”
 Akashi was a girl in the grade below ours. I suddenly remembered what had been written in that shady god’s
ledger last night.
“Akashi came too?” I asked.
“Look, she’s sitting on that embankment up there drinking a beer. She’s hanging out by herself, like she
usually does.”
“Brilliant. But she would have been better off not coming to such a stupid party.”
“I almost feel bad about getting her involved in all this.”
Briefly, images of Akashi’s intellectual appearance and elegant mannerisms ran through my head.
“Aha! ” Ozu sounded exceptionally pleased. “Aijima’s here.”
Snatching the spyglass from him, I traced Aijima as he walked through the pine trees and down the
embankment, watching as the new students waiting on the beach greeted him with cheers.
Aijima was Jōgasaki’s right-hand man in the Misogi movie circle, and was one of our chief tormentors. Having
to listen to him nitpick every tiny flaw in our movies was one thing, but being denied spots at film festivals by his
schedule manipulations was another. We had to beg on our hands and knees just to use the editing equipment.
He was unforgivable. Why must we endure this humiliation here, while he is celebrated and admired on the
opposite bank? Today, I would bring down the hammer of justice, and avenge myself for many years of injustice.
I would not be content until I saw him, wailing and repenting his sins among the crabs on the beach as fireworks
rained down upon him from the heavens.
Like a starving beast my breath became ragged and heavy with anticipation. I picked up a firecracker, but
Ozu grabbed my hand.
“Not yet, Jōgasaki hasn’t arrived yet.”
“I don’t care anymore. Aijima’s death will be sufficient.”
“I understand how you feel, but our real target is Jōgasaki.”
Our argument continued for a while. Ozu’s motives may have been impure, but he had a point. Expending all
our efforts on attacking Aijima, a mere lackey, would be a complete waste of our efforts. For the interim I decided
to sheathe my sword.
To our frustration, despite how long we waited Jōgasaki never arrived. While the wind whistled, our souls
were deeply wounded. Joyous laughter resounded from the direction of the beer-swilling enemy camp. On the
other hand, the two of us simply squatted motionlessly while joggers and people walking their dogs gave us odd
looks.
Seeing the stark contrast between our situation and the enemy’s on the other bank added oil to the flames of
my discontent. If there had been a raven-haired maiden by my side, I would have been able to wait it out, even
huddled in the darkness. However, the person beside me was Ozu. Why was I forced to huddle with someone
like an old-time grifter while a harmonious party was unfolding on the other bank? Where had I gone wrong?
Was the fault within myself? At the very least I should be allowed a kindred soul to keep me company, if not a
raven-haired maiden.
“Sure is cold over here,” Ozu remarked.
“Shut up.”
“Gosh, that looks like a fun party.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“This is pointless, let’s just head over there. I want to drink with all those naïve-looking freshmen.”
 “Are you planning to betray me?”
“I never promised you anything, did I?”
“You just said a while ago that you pledged me your body and soul, did you not?”
“Did I say that? I must have forgotten.”
“You miserable– ”
“Don’t look at me like that, you’re scaring me!”
“Oi, get off me!”
“But I’m lonely, and this wind is making me cold.”
“You lonely bastard–”
“Kyaa!”
After a while, this imitation of a lover’s quarrel began to wear our patience thin. Though Jōgasaki was still
nowhere to be seen, things had dragged on for long enough. We could send him a cake sprinkled with bug
corpses later, but tonight we would have to be content with leaving a stain on his honor.
As evening fell we carried the fireworks to the shore. Ozu waded into the river and filled a bucket with water.

　　　　　　　○

Skyrockets are things to be launched towards the sky. They are absolutely not to be held in the hands,
launched towards people, or used to bombard people on the other side of a river having a peaceful welcoming
party for freshmen. That can be extremely dangerous. I would like you all to avoid following in my footsteps.
Notwithstanding the fact that this was a surprise attack, attacking without warning is just completely against
my style. I shouted a challenge to the enemy camp on the other bank.
“Heed us well, etcetera etcetera, we will now exact our revenge! Please be careful of your eyes.” Having said
my piece, I observed the people on the opposite shore. They were all standing there dumbfounded, mouths
agape, with expressions that clearly said “What the hell is this?” If they didn’t understand, then I would make
them understand.
Suddenly, on the top of the embankment the figure of Akashi holding a bottle of beer caught my eye. She
mouthed the word “idiot”, and then, leaving only her astute critique, hastily retreated behind a pine tree. The
remainder of the partygoers sat on their sheets, eyes darting here and there, completely unable to fathom the
situation. Now that Akashi had taken refuge, there was no need for me to hold back. I promptly signaled Ozu to
begin the bombardment.
After we had been shooting off rockets for a while, we noticed some of the enraged upperclassmen beginning
to splash through the river without regard to getting soaked, probably attempting to show off to the freshmen. We
had originally planned to beat a gallant retreat to the sounds of screaming from the opposite bank, but now the
enraged upperclassmen were crossing the river without regard for getting soaked, throwing us into disarray.
“Hey, it’s time to go,” I said.
“Wait, wait, we still need to put out the flame.”
“Hurry, hurry!”
“We still have some rockets left too.”
“Just leave them!”
 We made a break for the Demachi Bridge, but from the top of the embankment in front of us, a person came
into view, charging towards us with an extraordinarily angry expression on his face.
“You little shits!!” yelled a familiar voice.
“Whoa, Jōgasaki’s finally arrived,” Ozu yelped.
“What terrible timing.”
Letting out a shriek, Ozu turned tail and fled in the opposite direction. Abandoning any sense of self respect,
he ran towards the Great Kamo Bridge yelling “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”, nimbly disappearing into the night.
I was nearly nabbed by Jōgasaki, but with the grace of a leopard I slipped from his grasp and ran for my life
after Ozu.
“When are you shits gonna grow up?” Jōgasaki stood on the riverbank hurling a sermon after us. He dared
lecture me — this pompous, prattling peacock! I was so filled with righteous indignation that I nearly turned
around to face him, but it was clear that the justice of my cause would be lost on the violent masses arrayed
against me. I had no intention of subjecting myself to such dishonor, therefore this was not surrender: it was
simply a tactical retreat.
Ozu had already made it to the Great Kamo Bridge and was nearly out of sight. How dreadfully fleet of foot. I
was about to follow after him when suddenly a hot mass whooshed into my back, drawing from me a gasp of
pain.
From behind me a triumphant roar rose into the air; it appeared that the enemy forces had launched a
vengeful rocket at me and struck my retreating form square in the back. The events of the past two years began
to whirl through my mind like a revolving paper lantern.

　　　　　　　○

I had spent the two years after I entered university fighting a fruitless war. Though I took pride in the splendid
battles I had fought as the Destroyer of Love, I could not help but to shed a tear. It was a thankless, thorny road I
traveled.
I shall not enumerate the many events that occurred after my matriculation that caused my brain to turn from
a rosy color to a dead shade of bluish-purple. There aren’t many tales to tell in the first place, and in secondly,
what would come of an attempt to elicit empty sympathy from my readers? In the summer of my freshman year,
the unsurpassably sharp blade called reality fell, and my foolish, short-lived dreams evaporated like morning dew
on the campus grounds.
After that, I took a cold, hard look at the world and resolved to crack down on the naïve dreamers around me.
More specifically, I decided to ruin the pathway of love for everyone else.
If a maiden in the east falls in love, I tell her “Give up on that freak”; if a man has starstruck delusions in the
west I tell him “It’s useless, you may as well give up now”; if the fireworks of love bloom in the south I quickly
extinguish them; and in the north I tirelessly preach the gospel of celibacy. Due to my efforts I was dubbed “The
Tactless One”. Alas, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I was far more perceptive than anyone
realized, but used that information to intentionally sabotage whatever I could.
There was one other person who watched my struggles with glee, who riled me up and laughed as I stirred up
the embers of conflict within the circle. That someone was Ozu. The tendrils of his information network reached
every nook and cranny, and there was not a rumor he was not aware of. Whenever I threw oil on the fire, he
immediately began to craftily spread malicious gossip to fan the flames until every corner of the circle rang with
the discord and infighting that he loved so much. He is evil incarnate, a disgrace to the human race, and
certainly not one that anyone would ever aspire to emulate.
Misogi had been established fairly recently, but already had about thirty members, which meant thirty more
enemies that I had to deal with. There were those who quit the circle due to Ozu and my actions. Once, I was
ambushed and nearly drowned in the canals of Lake Biwa. Another time, I was unable to return to my own home,
and had to hide out in an acquaintance’s room in North Shirakawa while he was away on a trip. And once I had
even been too direct and brought a girl to tears in the middle of Konoe Street.
But I would not — I could not lose.
It goes without saying that if I had lost back then everybody, myself included, would have been much happier.
That being said, I didn’t give a damn whether or not Ozu was happy.

　　　　　　　○

To begin with, I could not stomach the system behind Misogi movie circle.
In Misogi, under Comrade Jōgasaki’s benevolent dictatorship, circle members peacefully created movies at
his whim, a truly despicable setup. Though at first I dutifully carried out his bidding, I soon came to despise the
organization. However, it vexed me to know that fleeing the circle amounted to an admission of defeat. Realizing
that it was my duty to light the beacon of rebellion right under the noses of Jōgasaki and his cronies, I began to
shoot movies of my own. Of course, with none of the other members sympathetic to my cause, I reluctantly
enlisted the Ozu’s services.
My first work was a tale of two men who inherited the opposing reins of a legendary prank war predating the
Pacific War, and proceeded to push past their mental and physical limits to crush each other’s pride: a movie
truly overflowing with violence. With Ozu’s unchanging Noh mask-like expression, my high-octane performance,
and a never ending stream of merciless pranks, it was a film without rival. In the final scene, Ozu, who had dyed
his entire body pink, and I, with my head half-shaved, squared off in a battle royale on the Great Kamo Bridge.
Surely this scene alone was worth the price of admission. Still, it was no surprise the movie was completely
ignored; the only person who laughed during the screening was Akashi.
My second movie was patterned after Shakespeare’s King Lear, with one man wavering between the
affections of three women. However we could not gloss over the fundamental issue of not having a single
woman in our cast, and the finished film ended up deviating wildly from the original plot of King Lear.
Furthermore, it portrayed our philandering hero’s innermost thoughts with such salacious detail that a storm of
vilification was cast at us from the women in the audience, who decried the film as some kind of paean to
perversion. Akashi was the only one who laughed at the film.
My third work was a survival movie dealing with a man who embarks on an endless journey to escape an
infinite prison of 4½-tatami rooms. However, most of the comments I received went along the lines of “Haven’t I
seen this setting somewhere before?” and “This isn’t even a survival movie!”. The only one who had anything
positive to say was Akashi.
 The more movies that Ozu and I made, the more the other circle members drew away from us, as if they were
standing around a campfire and were afraid to get burned. Jōgasaki gradually became cold and indifferent to us,
and before long he began to completely ignore us like we were refuse on the side of the road.
The strangest thing is, the more effort we put into dethroning him, the more popular Jōgasaki seemed to
become. It’s like we were sitting on one end of a seesaw helping push him up, though that realization came too
late.
In the end, I simply had not been cunning enough.
How terribly naïve I was.

　　　　　　　○

Having successfully completed our tactical withdrawal from the Kamo River, Ozu and I headed into town to
celebrate our victory.
As I rode my bike in the night wind, I felt oddly despondent. Dismounting, we walked morosely through the
streets of Kawaramachi. The garish lights of the town sparkled and illuminated the inky blue sky. Ozu suddenly
turned towards the west end of the Great Sanjō Bridge and entered an old-fashioned brush shop while I waited
outside under the shadow of the eaves. Before long he came out, looking chagrined.
“Well? Did you buy a brush?”
“Well see, I gotta give Master Higuchi a tribute. He said he wants this fantastic kamenoko scrubbing brush
that’s supposed to be able to scrub away any impurity.”
“Is there even such a thing?”
“Supposedly, yeah, but…the shopkeeper laughed me out of the shop. I’ll just have to find something else to
present to him.”
“You sure are going to a lot of effort over something this stupid.”
“It’s tough since the Master’s always asking for stuff. Chirimen Sanshō’s sardines and Demachi Futaba’s
mame mochi I can deal with, but then he goes and asks for things like antique globes and banners from used-
book fairs, and seahorses and giant squids. And if I bring him something that displeases him I’ll be expelled on
the spot. Ain’t no rest for the weary.”
Despite his words, Ozu seemed oddly cheerful as he strolled with me along Kiyamachi.
Though this was supposedly a tactical retreat, unpleasant feelings of doubt clouded my mind, and I began to
wonder whether it had actually been a defeat. Ozu had a devil-may-care look on his face, but I couldn’t be so
irresponsible. Tonight’s sortie at the Kamo Delta had been meant to teach a lesson to the peers that we so
thoroughly resented, but now that I could calmly recollect the events of the battle, our enemies seemed to have
enjoyed themselves. Although there are many entertaining fights at drinking parties, ours was for a cause loftier
than the heights of Mt. Eizan.
“Keeheehee,” Ozu suddenly snickered. “Jōgasaki put on a good show tonight for everyone, but things aren’t
looking rosy for him right now.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
Ozu gave me a smug look.
 “Even as a doctoral student, he devotes all his time to shooting movies and doesn’t study at all, so he can’t
even conduct a single lab experiment or test. His parents decreased his allowance, and just recently he argued
with his boss and quit his job. Also, just last month he broke up with the girl he stole from Aijima. He’s hardly in a
position to be lecturing anyone.”
“How exactly do you know all this, anyway?”
As we passed beneath a streetlight, his expression turned sly.
“Don’t forget, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know more about you than even your lover does.”
“I don’t have a lover.”
“Well, I’m just covering my bases. Our real problem is Aijima,” he said, frowning.
“What do you mean?”
Ozu smirked. “You don’t understand how much he’s hiding, do you?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I can’t, I can’t. It’s too terrible to put into words.”
The Takase River was shallow at this time of year, about as shallow as the movies that Jōgasaki was
obsessed with mass-producing. Still fuming, I stared at the lights of the town twinkling on the water’s surface.
Despite Jōgasaki having the charisma of a threadbare mattress, in the closeted world of Misogi he reigned
supreme. I was willing to bet that right around now all the freshmen, especially the girls, were fawning over him,
and he was probably as high as a cat on catnip, forgetting all about the troubles that dogged him. Though he
engaged in vacuous debates about cinema and pretended to be a gentleman, the reality was that the only thing
that man was interested in was boobs. In fact, boobs were the only part of a girl he could see. I bitterly hoped
that he would become so lost in his tit fantasies that the rest of his life would fall into ruin.
“Hey, stop spacing out,” called Ozu.
I snapped out of my reverie, just in time to see a passing woman with striking eyebrows look our way and
smile. I suavely returned a smile, and she walked over to us. To my everlasting surprise, the one she spoke to
was Ozu.
“Well, good evening,” she purred. “What are you doing around here?”
“Oh, nothing important.”
I distanced myself from the two. I had no intention of eavesdropping, especially with the way the atmosphere
had become a little amorous. With all the traffic on the street I couldn’t hear their voices, but from where I was
standing it appeared that the woman had inserted her fingers into Ozu’s mouth and was probing around. They
appeared to be quite intimate, not that I was jealous at all.
Continuing to gawk at the two of them was putting me out, so I turned my gaze towards the shops shrouded
in the eaves of Kiyamachi Street.

　　　　　　　○

In between the bars and brothels, a dark, squeezed sort of house stood in the shadows. Under the overhang,
an old woman sat at a wooden stall covered by a white cloth; she looked like a fortune teller. The sign hanging
off the front of the stall was inscribed with all manner of arcane, incomprehensible runes. Above it, the hag’s
head floated in the gloom, lit only by the hazy orange light of a small lantern. It was a ghastly sight, like seeing a
ravenous ghost hungering for the souls of passersby. I began to imagine all manner of misfortune befalling me:
the shadow of the old woman seemed to follow me everywhere I went; nothing I did went right; people I was
expecting never showed up; possessions vanished, never to be seen again; I failed courses that should have
been a cinch; a thesis that I was about to present spontaneously combusted; I fell into the canals of Lake Biwa; I
was caught by a snake-oil salesman on Shijō Street; and so forth. While these wild thoughts were going through
my head, the old woman noticed me looking at her. She glared at me from the inky darkness with gleaming eyes,
drawing me in with her otherworldly emanations. Her suspicious aura was strangely persuasive, and logically
thinking I came to the conclusion that the divinations of someone who allowed her supernatural aura to flow so
freely could not possibly be wrong.
In my twenty-odd years of life, there had been but a handful of times where I humbly took someone’s advice.
What if that was the reason I was stuck on this thorny path, unable to move forward? Though I took few risks in
life, wasn’t there a possibility that I could choose the thorn-lined path? If only I had chosen to stop relying on my
own judgment earlier, my campus life certainly would have taken a different shape. I would not have entered the
warped Misogi Movie Circle, nor met the twisted Ozu, nor been branded as the Destroyer of Love. Rather, I
would have been blessed with wonderful mentors and friends, become accomplished in all the arts and
sciences, of course have a beautiful raven-haired maiden at my side, face a glittering golden future ahead of me,
and perhaps even have that all-important rosy student life in the palm of my hand. That was the kind of life suited
for someone like myself.
That’s right. It wasn’t too late. The sooner I took a third-party’s objective advice, the sooner I could escape
this dreary life into the life that I was meant to live.
I moved my legs toward the old woman as if I was being sucked in by her supernatural aura.
“Boy, what is it that you wish to hear?”
The old woman mumbled her words like her mouth was full of cotton, giving the impression that they were all
the more valuable.
“I’m not sure where to start…”
Seeing me at a loss for words, she grinned.
“I can see from your face that you are very frustrated, unsatisfied. You are not able to use your full talents;
your current situation is not suited for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!”
“Show me your hands.”
The old hag took my palms and peered into them, nodding approvingly.
“You have much earnest talent in you.”
I quickly tipped my hat to her keen insight. A true master hides his skills, and I had hidden my talents for so
long that even I didn’t realize I had them any more. For this old woman to sense those talents within five minutes
of meeting me must mean that she was no ordinary person.
“It is essential that you not let opportunities slip away. An opportunity is nothing more than a favorable
circumstance, you understand? But it’s difficult to take hold of opportunities. Sometimes they hide in places you
don’t expect, and sometimes it is only later that you realize something that seemed like an opportunity was really
nothing at all. But in order to seize an opportunity you must act. You look like you will have a long life, so sooner
or later you will have the chance.”
As befitting her aura, her words were truly profound.
 “I don’t want to wait forever; I want to grab my opportunity now. Can you be a little more specific?”
At my probing, the wrinkles on the old woman’s face contorted even further. I thought her right cheek must be
itchy or something, but it turned out that she was just smiling.
“It’s hard to be specific about the future. Even if I were to tell you about a precise opportunity, it might very
well be twisted and warped by the machinations of fate until it was no longer a opportunity when you chanced
upon it, and that would just be a disservice to you, wouldn’t it? Fate is something that changes from moment to
moment, you see.”
“But, everything you’ve told me is too vague to act on.”
As I stood there in confusion, she exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Very well. I will refrain from speaking of things far ahead, but I can speak of things that will soon come to
pass.”
I widened my ears like Dumbo.
“Colosseum,” she suddenly whispered.
“Colosseum? What’s that?”
“It is the sign of an opportunity. When an opportunity arrives, it will be accompanied by Colosseum,” she
intoned.
“So are you telling me I need to go to Rome?”
But the old woman merely grinned.
“When your opportunity comes, you mustn’t let it slip away, you mustn’t fumble around aimlessly as you have
been doing. Seize it, boldly, daringly! If you do, you will no longer be unsatisfied, and be able to embark on a
new path, though that path may hold hardships of its own. Then again, I expect that you understand this quite
well.”
I didn’t understand in the slightest, but I nodded anyway.
“Even if you don’t catch this one, you don’t need to worry. You are a splendid young man, so someday without
a doubt you will make it. I can see it. There’s no need to rush.”
With that, the old woman brought her divinations to an end.
“Thank you very much.”
I nodded to her and paid the fee. When I turned around, it was to see Ozu standing behind me.
“Playing the lost lamb, are we?” he said.

　　　　　　　○

Going out into town that night was Ozu’s idea. I rarely came here after sunset because I disliked the hustle
and bustle. Ozu on the other hand engorged himself on evil thoughts and sauntered around nightly looking for
trouble.
He had been moaning about wanting to eat beef tongue with leeks for some time, so we went to the second
floor of a yakiniku place on Kiyamachi Street to get some actual nutrition, which was sorely lacking from our
usual diets. I ordered some vegetables to go along with the meat, but as I munched on some sizzling shiitake
mushrooms Ozu eyed me as if he were witnessing someone shoveling horse dung into his mouth.
 “Those are some pretty nasty things you’re eating there. Those are mushrooms, you know. Little brown clots
of fungus. I can’t believe you’re eating those. What are those nasty little white gills on the bottom for? Why are
they even there?”
Infuriated at how he ignored the vegetables and only ate meat, I pried open his mouth to force scorching hot
onions down his throat. He was absolutely committed to his unbalanced diet, and I had never seen him eat a
proper meal before.
“Who was the girl from before?”
He looked nonplussed.
“You know, the one you were talking with in front of the fortune teller,” I pressed.
“That was Hanuki,” he said, taking another bite of beef tongue. “She’s an acquaintance of Master Higuchi,
and a good friend of mine. She was on her way home from her English conversation school and invited me to go
drinking.”
“You shameless bastard. Now you’re trying to be Mr. Popular?”
“Of course, the ladies never give me room to breathe. But I had to courteously decline.”
“Why?”
“Well, when she gets drunk she has an unfortunate habit of licking people’s faces.”
“Even your dirty mug?”
“Yes, even my adorable face. It’s how she shows her love.”
“If someone were to lick your face they’d probably contract an incurable disease. What an extraordinarily
reckless woman.”
We continued this stupid banter as the meat sizzled on the grill.
“What did that fortune teller tell you?” Ozu leered.
Even though it had been a portentous speech about how I should live my life, Ozu vulgarly dismissed it,
guessing, “It was about your love life, wasn’t it? What a waste of time!”
He kept breaking my deep train of thought by repeating insults like “Ugh, you’re disgusting” and “What a
pervert” like a broken record. Eventually I got so angry that I shoved a half-cooked shiitake into his mouth, and
we both lapsed into silence.
The old woman had said something about a “Colosseum”, but I had never had anything to do with Rome, or
with the Colosseum. No matter how hard I searched through my memory, I couldn’t come up with a single
connection. Still, whatever it was that “Colosseum” referred to would surely appear in the future. But what exactly
would it be? If I didn’t come up with a plan of action now, I would surely let yet another opportunity slip through
my grasp. The prospect filled me with unease.
The restaurant was crowded with young faces that looked like they had been high school students only a few
days ago. They must have been attending one of the many welcoming banquets for incoming freshmen that
were being held all over the city. It pained me to remember that I had once been a freshman, if only for a brief
period, self-consciously brimming with hope for the future.
“You’re wishing your college life had been better, aren’t you?” Ozu suddenly cut to the heart of the matter.
I snorted, but maintained my silence.
“It’s useless,” he sighed, biting into his beef tongue.
“What is?”
“No matter how you played it, you would have eventually ended up the same way.”
 “To hell with that. I certainly would not have.”
“There’s no point. You just have one of those faces.”
“What face?”
“You know, like, you were born under a bad sign, cursed to never live a fulfilling college life.”
“You have some nerve saying that; you should look in the mirror more.”
Ozu leered, becoming even more youkai-like. “I have fully come to grips with reality of my star-crossed birth. I
am enjoying my worthless life as a student as much as I can. So really, sticks and stones, and all that.”
I sighed. “It’s because you’re like that, that I turned out like this.”
“Don’t you enjoy wasting time like this every day? What do you have to be unhappy about?”
“Everything, that’s what. This disagreeable state I find myself in is completely your fault.”
“Jeez, not pulling any punches, are you?”
“If I hadn’t met you, my life would have been so worthwhile. I would have done well in class, gone out with
raven-haired maidens, and enjoyed a wonderful life without a single cloud hanging over me. That much is
certain.”
“Those aren’t magic mushrooms you’re eating, are they?”
“It’s only today that I have truly realized how much my student life has gone to waste.”
“Not that I’m trying to make you feel better or anything, but I think that no matter how you led your life you
would have run into me. Call it intuition. At any rate I’m doing everything I can to corrupt you. You can’t fight fate.”
He lifted his pinky dramatically. “You and I are bound by the black thread of fate.”
I shuddered, imagining myself sinking to the pitch-black depths of the sea, bound to Ozu like a ham by a dark
thread. Ozu smiled contentedly at my discomfort and took another bite of beef tongue. Damned youkai.

　　　　　　　○

With the tactical retreat from the Kamo delta, the fortuneteller’s puzzling words, and Ozu weighing heavily on
my mind, I soon drank my cup dry.
“Akashi is still a member of Misogi, isn’t she,” I groaned, but Ozu shook his head.
“Actually, I heard that she quit just last week. Apparently even Jōgasaki was begging her to stay.”
“Really. That’s right after we left.”
“She’s probably only there tonight as an alumnus of the circle. What a loyal woman.”
“You sure do know a lot about this.”
“Well, I did have a drink with her the other day, since we are fellow engineers.”
“You bastard, pulling a fast one like that—”
I thought about Akashi, sipping a beer amongst the pine trees, indifferent to the idiots on the riverbank below.
“What about Akashi?” Ozu suddenly asked.
“What about her?”
“Up until now, the only wretched soul capable of understanding someone as moronic and repugnant as you
has been yours truly—”
“Quiet, you.”
 “—but she could probably understand you. This is an excellent opportunity. If you don’t grab hold of this now,
you’re probably too far gone to help,” he grinned.
I waved my hand to grab his attention.
“Now listen here. I don’t want a girl who can understand someone such as myself. I want someone who stops
you dead in your tracks, someone whose daintiness and refinement are positively dream-like, a raven-haired
maiden whose head is filled only with beautiful things.”
“You’re still going on about that selfish crap?”
“Shut up and leave me alone.”
“You’re not still wound up about getting dumped by Kohinata during freshman year, are you?”
“Speak not that name in my presence.”
“Ah, I knew it. You really don’t let things go easily.”
“If you continue to speak I will bake your face on this grill right now,” I announced. “You’re about the last
person I’d want to talk about love with.”
Ozu suddenly sat up in his chair and laughed scornfully.
“Then, I guess this opportunity is mine. I’ll become happy instead of you.”
“That’s impossible for someone as evil as you. Akashi has a good eye for people. Plus, I bet you already have
a girlfriend you’ve been hiding from me.”
“Hehe.”
“What are you snickering about?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

　　　　　　　○

While this irritating exchange was going on, I suddenly remembered my surreal chance meeting with
Kamotaketsunominokami at Neko Ramen. During that extraordinary yet highly suspicious meeting, that arrogant
self-styled god had hinted that he was weighing Ozu and me on a scale. It had been so fishy that I had
completely dismissed it from my mind.
Trying to think rationally through my alcohol-induced haze, I wondered whether the god had predicted this
entire chain of events. No, that couldn’t be possible. It was shameful for me of all people to be so lonely that I
would be caught up in such a convenient fantasy; it was preposterous to think that I would become romantically
involved with a raven-haired maiden like Akashi. But it was still mystifying. That god had laid out the travails of
my life, hinted at my thorny, shameful past, and on top of that guessed precisely the exact situation I was
currently going through. There was no explanation for this. Perhaps that god was the real deal. Perhaps he really
did go to Izumo by train each autumn to weave and unravel the red threads of fate.
While I was thinking all this, my vision had gently started weaving side-to-side, and by the time I realized how
intoxicated I had become, Ozu was gone. He had stood up saying something about going to the bathroom, but
hadn’t come back.
At first, I didn’t think much of it, allowing my thoughts to gracefully drift hither and yon like a balloon. However,
after fifteen minutes had passed and Ozu still hadn’t returned, I became infuriated thinking about how he had
skipped off leaving me inebriated. Departing like a spring breeze and leaving others to deal with the bill was a
specialty of his.
“Damn it, not again...”
Just as I was muttering under my breath, Ozu came back and sat down.
“It’s about time—” I said with relief, looking at the person seated across from me.
It wasn’t Ozu.
“Come on, eat up. If you want to eat more you’ll have to hurry,” Akashi said matter-of-factly as she began to
grill the remaining meat.

　　　　　　　○

Akashi was a student in the engineering department a year younger than me. Not one to mince words, she
was respected but largely avoided by her peers. I was quite fond of her, not least because she wasn’t afraid to
cross swords with Jōgasaki if the situation called for it. Wielding her razor-sharp tongue, she was more than a
match for Jōgasaki. He was always afraid of having his charismatic image injured, and though her cool,
intelligent demeanor was certainly to be desired, to say nothing of her breasts, he soon learned not to speak to
her too carelessly.
In the summer of her freshman year, Jōgasaki lead an expedition on Mount Yoshida, shooting another one of
his unintelligible movies. The freshmen were shooting the breeze during a lunch break. One of them casually
asked, “Akashi, what do you do on the weekends?”
Without even looking up, she answered, “Why should I tell you?”
After that, no one asked her about her weekend plans.
I heard about that exchange some time later from Ozu, and proudly thought to myself, “Akashi, you just keep
doing your own thing.”
I had no clue why someone so level-headed would be in a club as bizarre as Misogi. However, she was was
very good at planning, and extremely intelligent, able to quickly figure out how to use any piece of machinery you
put in front of her. Thus, despite the fact that everyone gave her a wide berth, she was highly respected. Though
Ozu and I were generally left alone as well, it was a bit of a stretch to compare ourselves with Akashi,
considering that we two were universally despised.
But even she, as unyielding and unapproachable as a medieval European fortress, had a single weakness.
Last autumn, due to a shortage of available hands, I was forced to grudgingly help out with a movie
production. As usual, the location was Mount Yoshida.
Akashi, her face impassive as that of a wartime censor, was installing audio equipment up on a tree when she
suddenly shrieked as though she were a character from a manga and tumbled out of the tree. I swiftly ran up
and caught her, or rather, was squashed by her falling form while trying to escape. She clung to me, her hair
disheveled, frantically waving her right hand about.
It seemed that, while climbing the tree, she had grabbed a branch that was unexpectedly squishy. In her right
hand she was clutching a gigantic moth.
Apparently, she was deathly afraid of moths.
 “It squished, it squished…” she whispered over and over, her entire body trembling, her face as pale as if she
had just seen a ghost.
Normally she walled herself off from the world, and the fascination I felt seeing such a person show a moment
of weakness is indescribable. At that moment, I, the Destroyer of Love, very nearly fell in love. The worldly
passions which I had thought had sputtered out back in my freshman summer suddenly ignited, but I firmly held
back my feelings and chivalrously comforted Akashi, who was still muttering incoherently.
It was hardly likely that she harbored any sympathies toward the futile war that Ozu and I waged. She cast a
cold eye on the ostentation of the movie circle, but she would never go so far as to stir up any trouble.
With regard to the movies that Ozu and I made, Akashi simply said, “You’ve made another idiotic movie
again, haven’t you?”
She repeated that phrase a total of three times.
Well, counting our final masterpiece, four times. Our last movie, made this spring, was the only one that she
actually disliked. This time, she added, “This one was questionable.”

　　　　　　　○

“Akashi, why are you here? Weren’t you just at the Kamo Delta? Or was it that you could resist your
carnivorous lust no longer?” I giggled, but she simply scowled and put a finger to her lips.
“You really are clueless. Have you already forgotten that the circle likes to hold events here?”
“I know, I’ve been to a lot of those myself.”
“After the party at the delta was over, Jōgasaki wanted some meat and brought all the freshmen here. They’re
sitting over there now.”
She pointed towards the entrance. I got on my chair and stood on tiptoe, straining to look above the
partitioning screen.
“They’ll see you,” Akashi said sharply, so I slunk back down into my seat
“How could they gorge themselves on meat after a party, those insatiable brutes. Don’t they have any pride in
their agricultural heritage?” I groused, but she ignored me.
“Things will get inconvenient if you’re caught here.”
“If it’s a fight they want I’ll give it to them. If I can. I’m quite sure I will lose.”
“You’ll be lucky to get a swing in. I expect you’ll be red as a cherry by the time you’re done getting spanked in
front of all those freshmen. Come on, finish eating the rest.” She thrust a piece of meat at my face, her own
cheeks bulging. Seeing my slightly astonished expression, she blushed and said, “Sorry, it’s been some time
since I last had meat.” Her appetite didn’t seem to be diminished by her embarrassment. I was already full, so I
told her to eat the rest.
“I’m going to go home now. What about Ozu? Have you seen him?”
“Ozu already escaped out the back door. They don’t call him ‘Yellow-bellied Ozu’ for nothing.”
In ancient times, the army of Takeda of Kai was reputed to be as swift as the wind. If Ozu had lived back then,
he might even have joined it, if only for the speed with which he fled every engagement.
“I’ve already settled the bill. If you go out the front, you’ll be seen by Jōgasaki and the others, so go out the
back. I’ve asked the staff to let you out that way. I know them quite well, you see.”
I was so amazed at how thorough she was that I just nodded meekly and handed her the money for the bill.
 “I owe you one.”
“Never mind that, just make sure that you keep your promise,” she said sternly.
“What promise?” I cocked my head, but she just waved dismissively.
“Never mind, for now just get out of here. I need to get back to them soon.”
I gulped down the rest of my oolong tea and nodded in gratitude. Picking my unsteady steps carefully, I
ducked past the partition and out into the dark corridor.
A older lady wearing a white apron stood by an exit marked “STAFF ONLY” and opened the door as I
approached. I muttered my thanks, to which she murmured, “Poor dear, you have it rough, don’t you?” I
wondered how much Akashi had actually told her.
Outside, I found myself in a dark and cramped alleyway. Exiting onto the streets of Kiyamachi, I looked
around for Ozu, but he was nowhere to be found.

　　　　　　　○

Allow me to elaborate on my final film production.

With the return of spring, my frustrations reached a new peak. Jōgasaki was relentlessly waving his big stick
and ordering everyone around without so much as a hint of letting up. Like an infant sucking on a pacifier, he
suckled at the teat of authority, while greedily eying all of the freshman tits around him. In their turn, the
freshmen were captivated by Jōgasaki’s laughable charisma, and appeared content to waste their perfectly good
school days under the thrall of Jōgasaki’s pitiful cult of personality. They were in desperate need of a cold dose
of reality, and I decided that I would take on that most unpleasant and thankless duty.
I prepared two movies to show at the spring film festival that was being held for prospective new members.
The first was a dramatic reading of the Nasuno Yoichi scene from The Tale of the Heike, performed in a
threadbare 4½ room by none other than Ozu. The upperclassmen, led by Jōgasaki, unanimously rejected it. I
was hardly surprised.
“You can shoot whatever the hell you want,” Jōgasaki said from the darkroom, “Just don’t get in the way of
the recruiting efforts.”
I thundered back with a speech that would have made Winston Churchill proud, silencing the dissenters and
winning my film a spot at the festival, forcing them to allow my screening. They may have sensed that this would
be my last gasp.
In secret, I had prepared a second film.
This one was a puppet show based on The Tale of Momotaro, but the old couple that found the boy for some
reason give him the name Masaki instead. From there, Masaki’s vile journey begins. Masaki starts the
Onigashima movie circle, and uses drugged dumplings to force the underclassmen to do his bidding. He waxes
lyrical on his warped worldview and theories on love; he ogles women who are brought to him by his faithful dog,
monkey, and pheasant; though outwardly he is the very model of a modern gentleman, this is merely the mask
under which his outrageously lecherous persona hides. He feasts on debauchery, and eventually creates and
reigns over the Masaki Kingdom. In the end, two champions of justice come along, dye Masaki’s body
completely pink, roll him inside a bamboo mat and throw him into the Kamo River, restoring freedom to the
galaxy.
 On the surface, the film seemed like a run-of-the-mill black comedy based on Momotaro, so I did my best to
give it some genuine entertainment value. However, “Masaki” was Jōgasaki’s given name, and I gave all the
other characters the names of their real-life counterparts. This movie, though framed in the Momotaro story, was
nothing less than an exposé on Jōgasaki.
I was completely reliant on Ozu to get the inside scoop on Jōgasaki. Ozu was privy to Jōgasaki’s deepest,
darkest secrets, including some that even one such as myself would be loath to reveal. “I have connections in
the Information Bureau,” was all he would say, but his methods were still a mystery. Repulsed by his depravity, I
redoubled my efforts that I might be rid of him as quickly as possible.
On the day of the screening, I had Ozu swap the Tale of the Heike film with ‘Momotaro: The Jōgasaki Story’
before the screening started. Then, under cover of darkness, I slipped out of the building.

　　　　　　　○

After escaping the yakiniku place in Kiyamachi, I rode my bike north on Kawabata Street.
The lights of the city glittered on the other bank of the swollen Kamo River, like a scene from a dream. Sitting
on the riverbank between Great Sanjō Bridge and Oike Bridge was the usual herd of couples, spaced out at very
regular intervals. I paid no mind to it. Who would pay any attention to that? And after all, I’m a busy person. I kept
riding my bike, and soon both the lights of the shopping district and the Kamo River couples zone faded into the
night.
Even at this hour, the Kamo Delta still buzzed with activity, swarming with empty-headed students up to no
good. On the north bank of the river I could see the dense groves of Aoi Park. With the cool night air whispering
against my face, I pedaled on towards Shimogamo Shrine, leaving the Kamo Delta behind.
The Shimogamo shrine road was pitch black. I parked my bike at the entrance to the road and walked into the
gloom of the Tadasu Forest. In the distance I saw the small bridge I had leaned against while drinking ramune at
last summer’s Shimogamo Shrine book fair.
The horse-riding grounds run parallel to the shrine road. During the book fair they were crammed with tents,
filled with people trawling through for books. Since it was just a short stroll from Shimogamo Yūsuisō, I visited
almost every day. Now, the darkened grounds were eerily empty, as if the bustle of those days had been nothing
more than a dream.
The book fair was where I first met Akashi.
That day, I basked in the summer atmosphere on the sprawling grounds, drinking ramune under the sunlight
filtering through the trees and browsing the rows of tents lined up around me. There were so many boxes filled
with musty tomes it made my head spin. A number of folding stools were set up in the field, occupied by people
who like me, appeared to be woozy from all the books stacked around them. I found a chair of my own and sat
down to take a breather. I took out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat beading on my brow in the sweltering
August heat.
In front of me was a shop called Gabi Used Books, and sitting on a metal folding chair in front of it was
Akashi. ‘Isn’t that one of the underclassmen from the circle?’ I thought to myself. It appeared that she was
minding the shop. At the time, she had just entered Misogi, but both her skills and aloofness were apparent to
everyone. I stood up and began browsing through the bookshelves. When I glanced over and made eye contact
with her, she bobbed her head slightly. I ended up purchasing a copy of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand
Leagues Under the Sea. As I began to walk away, she ran after me.
“Take this,” she said, offering me a fan inscribed with the words “Shimogamo Used Book Fair”. Fanning my
sweat-beaded face, I walked off into the Tadasu Forest, the book dangling from my hand.

　　　　　　　○

The next day, I woke up in the evening and went to a café near Demachi to have dinner. On my way past the
Kamo Delta, I could see the pyre on the mountain illuminated in the dying afternoon light. This would probably be
a great place to watch the Okuribi festival bonfires. I started daydreaming about watching the Daimonji fires here
with Akashi, but standing there in the cool evening wind and imagining things was doing nothing to fill my belly,
so I left it off there.
Giving up on my delusions, I returned to my 4½-tatami room and started reading Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea. But however much I tried to lose myself in flights of fancy within that classic adventure, the only
things that came to mind were the usual delusions. The fortune teller’s prediction and the sudden appearance of
Kamotaketsunuminokami must somehow be related, or so I imagined. I turned the word “Colosseum” over in my
mouth. I still didn’t see what opportunity I was supposed to grab hold of.
As night fell, Ozu came calling.
“Nice going last night,” he remarked.
“And you’re as fleet of foot as ever.”
“Hey, lighten up, will you?” he shot back. “You don’t have a girlfriend, you were ‘voluntarily’ exiled from the
circle, you don’t study at all; what on earth do you intend to do with your life?”
“You’d better watch your mouth or I’ll bash your skull in!”
“You? Bash my skull in? I’m petrified.” He grinned. “I brought you a little something, so cheer up, huh?”
“What’s this?”
“A castella. I got a ton of them from Master Higuchi, and sharing is caring, right?”
“I can’t believe you’re actually giving someone something.”
“Well, the way I see it, there’s nothing sadder than cutting up and eating a big castella like this all by your
lonesome. I just wanted you to taste true solitude.”
“Oh, I get it. Yeah, I’ll eat an extra helping just for you.”
For once, Ozu decided to talk about the Master.
“The other day, the Master decided he wanted a seahorse, so I got a tank from the garbage dump and
brought it to him. But when we tried to fill it with water, it broke and all the water came gushing out. The Master’s
room got completely flooded.”
“Hold on, where’s his room?”
“It’s right above this one.”
I was suddenly seized with fury. Just recently, while I was out and about, my ceiling sprang a leak. When I
came back the trickling water had soaked all of my books, and the ink on the pages had run together into an
unintelligible mess. Not only that, but my computer was also destroyed, and every single electron that made up
my data was washed out to sea. Of course, this incident spelled the end of whatever academic comeback I
might have hoped to make. I had wanted to march up and lodge a furious protest, but decided that getting
entangled with the unidentified resident of the room above me was too troublesome, and in the end I left the
account unsettled.
“So that was your work?”
“I’m sure the destruction of your porn library was no big deal,” he brazenly asserted.
“All right, get the hell out of my room. I have more important things to do.”
“I was already on my way. I’m going to the master’s place for blind hotpot tonight anyway.”
I kicked the smirking bastard out into the hallway and was at last able to breathe a sigh of relief.

　　　　　　　○

The night began to wear on. While listening to the burbling sound of the coffeemaker, I eyed the castella Ozu
had brought. Ozu had intended me to fall victim to my loneliness, but I had no intention of giving in. After the
coffee boiled, I cleared my mind before calmly eating the castella. The sweet aroma of the cake brought back
hazy memories of childhood.
As I chewed, I was struck with the realization that it really was quite tiresome to be eating this large castella
alone. It would be much preferable to be sipping black tea elegantly with agreeable companionship, perhaps with
someone like Akashi, but definitely not Ozu… Akashi? I was astonished that I was even having these thoughts. I
had been shaken by the many unexpected events that had happened over the past few days—the retreat from
the Kamo Delta, the irksome meddling by that god, the fortuneteller’s mysterious prophecy, meeting Akashi at
the yakiniku place—that my powers of reason were dissolving like a sugar cube.
Though I was far from burning with the passions of love, this sudden temporary pining for companionship
mostly certainly contradicted my own creed. Was it not by scorning those shameless, intemperate students who
were unable to bear their own loneliness that I had won my infamous reputation as the Destroyer of Love? Was it
not by struggling through this ceaseless battle that I had snatched victory from the jaws of utter defeat?
“Then I guess this opportunity is mine. I’ll become happy instead of you.”
That was what Ozu had said in the restaurant. I didn’t trust anything that the suspicious god said, and I was
sure that someone as sharp as Akashi would never be fooled by a perverted, malnourished youkai such as Ozu.
On the other hand, she did seem open-minded enough to be happy in such a relationship. Come to think of it,
both she and Ozu were in the engineering department, and they were also ex-members of the same circle. If I
just stood idly by, the unthinkable might happen and Ozu and Akashi might really become romantically involved.
This had nothing to do with my personal heartache: Akashi’s future was at stake.
Above me, a moth had somehow entered my room and was fluttering around the brand new fluorescent light.
Through the walls I could hear a man and a woman talking. Straining my ears, I discerned that the hushed
endearments and stifled giggles were coming from the adjoining room. I walked out into the hallway to
investigate, and though the window above the door was darkened, with my ear pressed to the wall I could hear
them whispering sweet nothings to each other.
The person who lived in that room was a Chinese exchange student. I was sure that leaving the mainland and
crossing the sea to come to an unfamiliar land must have been difficult. For the two of them to find comfort in
each other was a natural human instinct, and something that I was not in a position to criticize. That much, I
understood, and yet I couldn’t just leave it alone. But not being able to understand the language, I couldn’t give
myself the small joy of eavesdropping on the lovers’ talk coming from the darkened room. I bitterly cursed myself
for not having studied Chinese as a second language, and in frustration returned to desperately devouring the
castella.
Was I losing?
Was I really losing to my loneliness?
I began wildly gnawing the castella again as if to show an invisible audience how much fun I was having
sitting in this empty room by myself, but after a while I regained control of myself. Holding back the tears that
threatened to well up from the empty hole inside me, I put down the half-eaten castella. Then I did a double take.
Viciously chewed up, it looked less like a sponge cake, and more like an ancient Roman…
“Colosseum,” I murmured.
What an absurdly roundabout prophecy.

　　　　　　　○

The day I left the circle, I ran into Akashi.

The spring film festival was being held in one of the lecture halls. After starting up the Momotaro film, I quickly
left the hall under cover of darkness and walked to the circle’s clubroom. As stupid as Jōgasaki was, even he
would grasp the true meaning of the film after a few minutes. It was clear that if I was caught I would be strung
up by his lackeys, so I left quickly to collect my belongings from the clubroom.
In the golden rays of the setting sun, the blossoms on the trees gleamed like magical sugar candy. I had no
clue why I had stayed in this ridiculous circle for two years, but now that I was really leaving, I was starting to get
sentimental.
Ozu had beat me to the clubroom and was already stuffing his things into a backpack, like a youkai
scrounging for human bones. I had to admire him for his uncanny ability to always be the first one out of the
gate.
“You sure got here quickly,” I commented.
“Well, you know how I just hate being in sticky situations. No point in sticking around, so I figured I’d make like
a tree and leave, though it seems we’ve already cut ourselves a big slice of trouble.”
“You don’t say?”
I tossed most of my things into my bag, but decided to leave my collection of manga and novels as a parting
gift.
“You don’t have to leave the circle with me, you know,” I commented
“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that, considering you made me help you. It would be pointless staying here
by myself, wouldn’t it?” he huffed. “And unlike you, I have diversified my campus portfolio, so I still have lots of
places I can go.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered what kinds of other things you do.”
“Well, I’m a member of a certain secret society, the Master always has something for me to do, I’m also part
of a religious circle...and my love life is extremely busy.”
“Wait. I thought you were single!”
 His lips curled upward, but he said nothing.
“What’s with that smirk on your face?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
As we rummaged through the room, Ozu suddenly whispered, “Someone’s coming!”, and sprinted out of the
room before I could tell him to wait. What incredible speed. Just as I grabbed my bag to follow him out, Akashi
entered the room.
“Oh, Akashi.”
She took a large swig from the cola bottle she was holding and frowned at me.
“You’ve made another idiotic movie again, haven’t you?” she said. “I watched part of it.”
“Did they stop the screening?”
“Well, the viewers found it interesting, so there’s no way they could without making a scene. But Aijima and a
few others are you looking for you now. They’ll probably be here soon. I suggest you flee if you don’t want to get
beaten to death.”
“I see. Well, as long as the audience enjoyed it...”
She shook her head.
“I liked the ones you made before. This one was questionable.”
“Well, this one was just a hit-and-run.”
Her eyes went to the bag I was holding.
“Are you quitting the club?”
“Of course.”
“I guess it can’t be helped considering what you did this time. You’ve blown away the last shreds of what
honor you had here.”
I gave a hollow smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”
“You’re a moron.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“That movie was supposed to be Ozu’s Heike movie, wasn’t it? I wanted to see that.”
“If you want to, I can show it to you.”
“Really? Then it’s a promise.”
“Yeah, next time. But it’s really not good at all.”
“It’s a promise,” she insisted.
“I’m leaving my manga here, so make sure to read them for me.”
And just like that, I left the space where I had spent the past two years struggling and grinding myself into
dust behind. As long as my last masterpiece had dealt a blow to Jōgasaki’s standing I was content. But
somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that was impossible.
At the door, I turned to look back. Akashi was sitting there reading my manga.
“Well, Akashi, I bid you farewell. Do not be fooled by Jōgasaki’s lies.”
She turned and glared at me.
“Do I look that stupid to you?”
At that moment, I saw Aijima and a few other brawny fellows charging towards me. Without replying, I turned
and fled for my life.
 　　　　　　　○

I spent a restless night with my loneliness and my reason battling it out like two evenly matched champions in
the corners of my mind. In the morning I headed towards campus, but I was preoccupied with so many things
that the day passed by in a blur.
After minutely analyzing each facet of the situation, I eventually came up with a foolproof plan of action, not
allowing my concerns over whether I might be overthinking everything to get in the way of a decisive analysis.
Weighing the lives of Akashi, Ozu, and myself on a scale, I considered the many possible paths and outcomes.
To the question of who deserved to have a happy ending, I came up with an answer astonishingly quickly. I also
pondered whether it was too late for someone who wrecked relationships and risked death by horse to change
his path. It was a very difficult question to answer.

　　　　　　　○

I made my way home from campus as twilight fell over the city. I shut myself in my room to collect my
thoughts one last time.
Having made up my mind, I left my room and went to go see the god.
Though I had lived in the Yūsuisō for two years, this was the first time I had gone to the second floor. The
corridor was littered with assorted belongings, and was even more filthy than the first floor. It was like walking on
a crowded downtown street, and the further you went in the dimmer it became, as if you were picking your way
through a back alley in Kiyamachi. I arrived at the end of the hall, room 210. In front of the door were scattered
an armchair (with ottoman), a dust-covered fishtank, a discolored Keroyon frog figurine, and a banner from the
book fair, among various other objects. There were so many things that there was hardly a place to stand. For
the domicile of a god, there was certainly a lack of decorum. I wanted to flee from the chaos and return to the
tranquility of the first floor to live out my days out in peace, but at the same time hated myself for having such
foolish hopes. There was no name on the doorplate.
At any rate, if this turned out to be a prank I told myself I would just laugh it off. Gathering up every ounce of
manly resolve I could muster, I knocked on the door.
“Yahwhozit?”
With a loud, silly yawn, the god popped his head out.
“Ah, it’s you. Well, what have you decided?” he said, sounding like someone who was trying to figure out his
weekend plans.
“Ozu is unacceptable. Pick me for Akashi instead.”
He smiled.
“Very well. Wait in that chair for a bit.”
He withdrew into the room; I could hear him rustling around inside. I had no intention of sitting in that dust-
covered chair, so I just stood in the hallway. After a while he came out of the room, saying “Well, let’s go. Follow
me.”

　　　　　　　○
 Where were we going? Surely it wasn’t to offer a sacrifice at Shimogamo Shrine? I shivered with misgivings
behind him, but instead of going towards the shrine, he proceeded purposefully past the lights of Shimogamo
Saryō and headed south. As I followed in bewilderment, we passed by Demachiyanagi Station before heading
down the river to Imadegawa Street and stopping on the east end of the Great Kamo Bridge. He looked at his
wristwatch.
“What are we doing?” I asked apprehensively, but he simply put a finger to his lips.
Dusk had already fallen, and the Kamo Delta was once again occupied by boisterous students. The Kamo
River was swollen due to the recent rains, its surface shimmering like gilded silver with the reflections of the
streetlamps that were flickering on one by one. Now that the day was fading, Imadegawa Street was bustling
and the Great Kamo Bridge was packed with the dazzling lights of passing cars. The orange lamps that dotted
the bridge burned mysteriously in the night. For some reason, tonight the bridge looked awfully wide.
While I stood there trembling, the god gave me a wallop on the back.
“Now, go and cross the bridge.”
“Why?”
“Listen well. Akashi is going to come from the other side. Talk to her, ask her out to a café or something. Quite
a romantic view here, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s impossible, I can’t!”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. Now go on, get going.”
“What’s going on?. Didn’t you say that you make these matches when you go to Izumo in the fall? Isn’t it
pointless to do anything before you do that?”
“What an insufferably logical person you are. Even though we do make those matches, it’s still important to
put all the pieces in place. Now go.”
With a gentle push from him, I started stumbling across the bridge. It was really quite irritating, to be treated
like a fool. From behind, he called, “Oh, you’ll run into a strange person before you get to Akashi, but pay him no
mind.”
I passed a number of strangers as I walked, but before long I came across a familiar, sinister face floating in
the light of one of the lamps by the guardrail; a demonic visage that I would never forget as long as I lived. Why
was he here? I glared at him, but Ozu simply smiled, hopped over, and punched me in the stomach. “Oof,” I
gasped, but he simply walked off towards the east.
I stood right at the center of the bridge, doubled over and clutching my stomach, with the Kamo River flowing
beneath me. Over to the south, at the misty ends of the river, the far-off lights of Shijō Street blinked and
sparkled like gems.
At that moment, Akashi came walking by.
I attempted to strike up a casual conversation, but suddenly froze up.
As her senior, I normally had no issues with exchanging words with her. But now that I was throwing away my
reputation as the fearsome Destroyer of Love and attempting to build a relationship of my own, my body
suddenly became as stiff as concrete and my mouth was as dry as the surface of Mars. My eyes were
unfocused, and I gasped as if I had forgotten how to breathe. I had never felt or acted so vulnerable before, and
would almost gladly have thrown myself into the coursing waters of the Kamo River and be washed out of Kyoto
to escape Akashi’s penetrating gaze.
 “Good evening,” she said, a little suspiciously. “Were you able to make it out of the restaurant safely?”
“…yes, thanks to you…”
“Out for a stroll?”
“…yes, yes…”
And on that note, my creased gray matter suddenly stopped working. The silence was golden.
“Well, have a pleasant evening,” she said, beginning to walk away.
It couldn’t be helped. As someone who had always interfered with others’ romance, I hadn’t a clue as to how
to actually walk that path myself. I couldn’t suddenly be expected to gambol on the pathway of love when my
heart was overgrown with the thorns of pride. At the very least, I needed a little more preparation. This would be
all for today. I silently patted myself on the back for a job well done.
As Akashi and I went our separate ways, we were startled by the sudden appearance of a goblin striking a
dramatic pose on the handrail right beside us. It was Ozu. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking,
bathed in that bright orange light, but it was an uncanny sight. We stared up at him, dumbfounded.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” I said.
He opened his eyes wide and leered rapaciously at us.
“You didn’t think you were done, did you? You’re unbelievable. Spurn not the divine command! Proceed down
the pathway of love!”
I suddenly remembered and looked towards the east end of the bridge. Kamotaketsunuminokami was still
standing there with his arms folded, peering at our exchange with great interest.
“You mean to say this was all your trickery, Ozu?” I felt my stomach drop. “I get it now. You really had me
going.”
“What is this, what’s going on?” Akashi whispered to me.
“Didn’t you make an oath to the god of Shimogamo Shrine?” he accused. “You must grab hold of that
opportunity now. Can’t you see it? Akashi is right next to you!”
“Keep your nose out of it!”
“If you don’t act now, I’m going to jump!”
With those absurd words, he turned his back on us and spread his arms as if he were going to leap out into
the void.
“Wait a minute. What does my love life have to do with you jumping?”
“You know, I’m not really sure,” he admitted.
Akashi tried to persuade him as well. “Ozu, the river is swollen right now. If you jump you’re going to drown!”
While this bizarre exchange was going on, screams suddenly came from the Kamo Delta to the north. The
students at the party were in an uproar, running this way and that.
“What is that?” said Ozu, crouching down. Leaning over the handrail to look, I could make out what looked
like a dark cloud stretching from the Aoi Park forest to the delta. It buzzed loudly as it grew larger, enveloping the
entire delta. The people inside the cloud ran around frantically flapping their arms and batting at their heads. We
gazed at the scene, mesmerized, as the dark cloud began to creep over the surface of the water towards us.
The noise from the delta began to become even more tumultuous. The cloud kept pouring out of the pine
trees. It was an incredible sight. Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter went the squirming cloud as it rolled towards us
like a carpet, rising above the water, billowing over the handrail and burying the Great Kamo Bridge like an
avalanche.
 “GYEEEEEEEEEEE” Akashi shrieked.
It was a giant swarm of moths.

　　　　　　　○

The next day the moth plague made the front page, though nobody knew where the moths had come from.
By tracing their route, it appeared that the swarm had originated in the Tadasu Forest, that is to say, Shimogamo
Shrine, but many questions were left unanswered. For instance, there was no explanation for why all the moths
in the forest would simultaneously decide to migrate. There was an alternative rumor going around that the
moths had actually come from the neighboring Izumigawa town, but that explanation was even more confusing.
It appeared that the neighborhood around my boarding house had been inundated with moths for a brief while as
well.
When I returned later that night, the corridor was littered with moth corpses. I had forgotten to lock my door,
so my room was carpeted with them as well, but I reverently gathered the corpses and buried them.

　　　　　　　○

As moths thrummed around me, filling the air with glittering scales and occasionally attempting to force their
way into my mouth, I fought my way through the swarm to Akashi and gallantly shielded her from the worst of it.
Being originally from the city, I had formerly never had to coexist with bugs, but after two years in the boarding
house, I had become intimately acquainted with all sorts of arthropods.
Even so, the sheer number of moths that night was utterly overwhelming. The drone of beating wings cut us
off from the outside world, as if it were not moths but a swarm of winged imps passing over the bridge. It was
nearly impossible to see anything. What little I could see through my squinted eyes was limited to the moths
dancing in the orange light of the streetlamps, and Akashi’s shining black hair.
After a while the swarm moved on, leaving only a few stragglers flitting here and there. Akashi’s face was
ashen as she frantically brushed herself off all over, shrieking, “Are they on me? Are they on me?” before
sprinting away away from the writhing moths still dotting the ground with frightening swiftness towards the east
end of the bridge and collapsing to the ground in the soft light of a café.
The carpet of moths slowly rolled down the river towards Shijō. I suddenly noticed the yukata-clad god
standing next to me, stretching to look over the guardrail. His face crumpled, but it was hard to tell whether he
was crying or laughing.
“That fool Ozu. He really fell off, didn’t he,” he remarked.

　　　　　　　○

The two of us jogged down the embankment on the west side of the bridge. In front of us, the Kamo River
thundered by. It was so swollen and wide that the surrounding shrubbery was being pickled in the water.
 We waded into the water and approached the underside of the bridge; something seemed to be wriggling in
the shadows of the pillars. Ozu clung there desperately like a discarded piece of trash, trying not to be swept
away. The water wasn’t too deep, but it was swift, so the god was nearly swept off his feet despite his
supposedly divine powers. With some difficulty, we made our way to Ozu.
“You moron!” I yelled while being drenched by the spray.
Ozu simply laughed through his tears, “Heehee, I caught something,” and held out his arms triumphantly. He
was clutching a plush teddy bear.
“It came flowing right to me,” he said, whimpering with pain. “Behold, unworthy Ozu turns pain into profit!”
“Be still,” the god commanded.
“Of course, master. My right leg hurts a lot,” he meekly submitted.
“You’re Ozu’s master?” I asked.”
“Indeed,” smiled the god.
The god/Ozu’s master and I picked Ozu up. “Ow, ow, watch the leg!” he demanded ungratefully as we
dragged him to the shore. Akashi was also on the riverbank; though she had suffered a considerable shock from
the moths, she was sharp as always and had already called for an ambulance. Now she just sat on a bench
holding her pale face in her hands. We rolled Ozu like a log up the beach, then began to dry our clothes,
shivering with cold.
“It hurts, it hurts. Help me,” moaned Ozu.
“Oh, shut it. You’re the one that climbed on the railing to begin with,” I snapped. “The ambulance will be here
soon, so just deal with it a little longer.”
“Ozu, you show a lot of promise,” Ozu’s master said.
“Master, thank you very much!”
“But when I told you to break a leg, I didn’t mean it literally, you know. What an incorrigible fool.”
Ozu lay there sobbing.
After about five minutes the ambulance arrived at the Great Kamo Bridge. Ozu’s master went up the
embankment to fetch the EMTs, who promptly wrapped Ozu in a blanket and set him on a stretcher. I would have
been overjoyed if at that point they threw him into the river, but they of course being professionals did not
distinguish between their patients. Without sparing a thought on Ozu’s evil doings, they punctiliously carried the
stretcher back to the ambulance.
“I shall accompany Ozu,” said his master, climbing into the ambulance. The sirens soon faded away into the
distance.

　　　　　　　○

At last, only Akashi and I were left. Akashi still had her face buried in her hands, as I shivered in my drenched
clothes. I still held the teddy bear that Ozu had found while clinging to the bridge. It looked dolefully up at me as I
squeezed it, wringing the water out. It was really quite a handsome bear.
“Are you okay?” I asked Akashi.
“I really can’t stand moths,” she moaned.
“Well, would you like some coffee to calm down?”
 I was certainly not making a craven attempt to take advantage of her fear of moths; I was simply concerned
by the lack of color in her face.
I bought canned coffee from a nearby vending machine and drank it together with her, and gradually color
returned to her face. She kept squeezing the bear, looking dumbfounded.
“This is a Mochiguman, isn’t it?” she said.
“What’s a Mochiguman?” I asked.
She told me about her collection of teddy bears, all of which were identical to this one. There were five of
them, and since they were all soft and squishy like mochi, she named them Mochiguma. As a unit they were
called “Fluffy Squadron Mochiguman”, and she spent many days comforting herself by poking at their furry
behinds. However, last year at the Shimogamo Shrine book fair one of them had fallen off of her bag and had
been lost ever since.
“Then, this is the one you lost?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Why would it be here of all places?”
“It was probably washed down here by the river,” I speculated. “Ozu found it, but I’m sure you can just take it
home.”
She gave me a dubious glance, but sat up straight after a moment, looking happy that her bear collection was
complete again. She seemed to have completely recovered from the moth attack.
“Ozu invited me to the café today, and then he told me to cross the bridge. I wonder what that was all about.”
“Beats me.”
“But he’s fascinating, isn’t he? I once saw him run back and forth across the Hyakumanben crossing waving a
huge Ferrari flag.”
“Don’t get close to him, you’ll get infected by his stupidity.”
Akashi hmm-hmmed, nodding her head.
“I think it’s too late for you. As far as I can tell you’ve already been infected by him.”
For a moment I was taken aback, but then said, “I just remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“Didn’t I say I would show you the movie?”
I was talking about the bizarre movie I had made just before leaving the circle of Ozu reciting a story from
The Tale of the Heike.
“That’s right!” she said, looking pleased.
We agreed to meet the next week so I could deliver the movie to her. We met at the Madoi restaurant to the
southwest of the Hyakumanben crossing, and incidentally decided to have dinner together.
The movie is of decidedly mixed merit, , and while I am firmly in the naysayers’ camp, at least Akashi enjoyed
it.

　　　　　　　○

To describe how the relationship between Akashi and I developed after that would deviate from the purpose of
this manuscript; consequently, I will refrain from recounting those events here. I am sure my readers would
rather not waste their time reading such contemptible stuff.
 There is nothing more boring than telling a story of requited love.

　　　　　　　○

It is true that after Master Higuchi absconded, a great many changes entered my life; however, I would be
vexed if that were to be interpreted as a vindication of my actions. I am not so naive as to so easily overlook the
mistakes of the past. On occasion, I would consider magnanimously embracing my past self. Perhaps things
would be different if I were a young lady, but who would want to embrace a disgusting twenty-something man
like myself? Driven by this indignation, I refuse to absolve my past self of these sins.
I couldn’t shake off the feeling that choosing to become a disciple in front of that fateful clock tower that day
had been a mistake. What if I had chosen a different path? If I had responded to that call for disciples, or chosen
the softball circle, or even entered the secret society, my past two years certainly would have been quite
different. At least, it is plain my life would not have been as twisted as it is now. Perhaps that ever elusive rosy
student life would have been in my grasp. I could not bring myself to deny that the past two years had been full
of mistakes and missed opportunities.
Above all, my unfortunate mistake of meeting Ozu would surely haunt me for the rest of my life.

　　　　　　　○

Ozu was for a time admitted to a hospital beside campus.

It was quite delightful to see him strapped down to the white hospital bed. Owing to his already ghoulish
complexion, it appeared as if he had contracted some incurable disease, though in reality it was merely a broken
bone. In fact, he was probably lucky to get off with just a fracture. I sat there gloating as he grumbled about his
inability to partake in any of his usual wicked habits, but whenever I got tired of his bleating I stuffed a slice of
castella in his mouth to shut him up.
I could hardly believe that he had dragged his Master into his idiotic plan, pointlessly broken a bone falling off
the bridge just to get Akashi and me together. None of us could ever hope to understand what he gained out of
all this. Then again, we didn’t need to.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about sticking your nose into people’s business?” I said while stuffing my
cheeks with castella, but he shook his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What else would I do with myself?”
What an incurable character.
I demanded to know what was so interesting about toying with an innocent person like me.

　　　　　　　○

His customary youkai-like grin floated to his face.

“It’s how I show my love!”
“I don’t need that nasty stuff,” I replied.
 Chapter 2
The 4½-Tatami Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War

In the two years before the spring of my junior year of college, I accomplished not a single thing of practical
use. Instead of building healthy relationships with the opposite sex, studying diligently, training my body, and
undertaking other activities directed towards becoming a productive member of society, I isolated myself from
women, abandoned my studies, and let my health fall to ruin. Yet, despite having struck out already, why is it that
I continued to labor away hoping for the pieces to fall into place?
I must inquire of the responsible party. Where is the culprit?
It is not that I have always been in this condition.
I was born pure as the driven snow and as charming as the infant Prince Genji; with nary an impure thought
in my head, my radiant smile spread the light of love across the hills and valleys of my hometown. I am doubtful
whether that is still the case today. Each time that I look in a mirror I fly into a rage, asking ‘Why have you
become like this? Is this the sum of your current existence?’
There are those who say that I am still young, and that people are things that may yet change.
How ridiculous.
It is said that the child is the father of the man. And with this year, another one will be added to my twenty, and
the end of my splendid quarter-century youth will soon approach. What outcome, then, would further clumsy
efforts to change my personality bring about? At this stage, if I attempt to twist something that has already set
and hardened, the most I’ll do is break it.
At this moment, I must pull myself upward into leading a respectable life. I must not avert my eyes from the
grim reality that lies before me.
And yet, somehow, it is unbearable to look.

　　　　　　　○

The principal character of this memoir is none other than I. The other lead player is one Master Higuchi.
Between these two patricians is inserted a minor character of diminutive stature, Ozu.
On the subject of myself, there is little else to say than that I am a proud third-year university student.
However, to suit my readers I shall consent to describe my appearance.
Let us take a journey through Kyoto. From Kawaramachi Sanjō you stroll west along the shopping arcade.
The crowds are out in force on this fine spring weekend. As you glance through the windows of the gift shops
and tea houses, you suddenly see a raven-haired maiden, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, coming
your way. She’s so radiant that everything around her pales in comparison. Her coolly brilliant eyes turn to a man
walking beside her. He is in his early twenties, his eyes clear, his brow firm, a refreshing smile always on his lips.
No matter what acrobatic angle you inspect him from, it is impossible to find any flaws on his intellectual face. He
is about 180cm tall, and well built, but with nary a trace of the brute in his fine frame. He has an easy gait, and
yet there is confidence in each step. He is flawless in every respect, and always has a pleasant aura about him.
If there is a gold standard to judge a man by, he is it.
Please, I would like you to imagine that person whenever you think of me.
I am doing this solely for the convenience of my readers, and as such I am certainly not portraying myself as
more beautiful than I am in real life, or trying to make high school girls go gaga over me, or scheming to become
class representative and receive my diploma directly from the hands of the university president at graduation.
So, dear readers, please engrave that image exactly as I have just described it into your heads, and think of it
whenever you think of me.
It’s true that there is no raven-haired maiden beside me at present, and there may also be a few other points
of difference as well, but those are minor quibbles. It’s what’s on the inside that’s important.

　　　　　　　○

Let us continue to the matter of Master Higuchi.

I live in room 110 of Shimogamo Yūsuisō, a boarding house located in Shimogamo Izumigawa that resembles
Kowloon Walled City, while he lives a floor above me in room 210. For two years, until our abrupt parting at the
end of the May of my third year here, I was his apprentice. I neglected my studies to practice asceticism, yet in
the end I learned only useless things and improved the most worthless parts of my character, while
simultaneously neglecting the better parts.
It was widely rumored that Master Higuchi was an eighth-year student. His prolonged presence on campus
had granted him an aura of mystery, like that of an animal that has lived much longer than was normal.
He always had an easy smile on his eggplant-shaped face, which somehow gave him the vague impression
of a nobleman. However, he always had a lazy bush of stubble sprouting from his chin. He always wore the
same blue yukata, with an old jumper put on over it during the winter; with that garb on he would often be found
at a stylish café sipping a cappuccino. He didn’t own an electric fan, but knew a thousand different places to cool
off during the dog days of summer. His hair was fantastically disheveled, as if a typhoon had made landfall on his
head and left everything else untouched. He often puffed on cigars. Occasionally he would dash off to school as
if he had just remembered that he was a student, but by now there was probably no way he could get enough
credits to graduate. Though he didn’t speak a word of Chinese, he was quite friendly with the Chinese exchange
students who lived in the boarding house; I once came across him having his hair cut by one of the Chinese
girls. I had lent him a copy of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea almost a year ago, and he
was still leisurely flipping through its pages, refusing to return it. In his room was a globe that he had stolen from
me, meticulously dotted with pins. I didn’t learn until later that those pins tracked the voyage of the Nautilus
around the world.
Master Higuchi never actually put forth any effort to accomplish anything, being too absorbed in his grand
way of living. Depending on how you looked at it, it was either a cultured philosophy buoyed by a fearsome
stoicism, or the pinnacle of foolishness.

　　　　　　　○
 Lastly we come to Ozu.
Ozu is a student the same year as I. Though he is a member of the electrical engineering department, he
hates electricity, electronics and engineering. His first-year grades were so borderline that I wondered if there
was any point to him being in university at all. He, however, wasn’t concerned in the slightest.
Because he despises vegetables and adheres strictly to a diet of fast food, he has the extremely eerie look
and complexion of someone from the far side of the moon. If you were to meet him the street late at night eight
out of ten people would mistake him for a youkai. The remaining two people are certainly youkai themselves.
Cruelly beating the weak, groveling to the strong, selfish, self-assured, lazy, a complete demon, neglecting
studies, lacking a shred of pride, feeding off the unhappiness of others he was able to eat three square meals a
day. There is not a single part of him that is praiseworthy. If I had never met him my soul surely would have been
cleaner for it.
Keeping that in mind, becoming a disciple of Master Higuchi in the spring of my freshman year was mostly
assuredly a mistake.

　　　　　　　○

At the time, I was still a sparkling freshman. The cherry trees had shed their flowers, clad now in an
invigorating verdant hue. Upon entering the university grounds, each first-year was immediately pressed with
club fliers, I with so many that they could not be processed by a single person. Among those sundry fliers, only
four caught my attention: Misogi Movie Circle, a mysterious call for disciples, Honwaka Softball Circle, and the
Lucky Cat Restaurant secret society. Each of these had its own air of suspicion, yet was its own doorway to a yet
unknown campus life, and I was filled with inquisitiveness, thinking that no matter which I chose a fascinating
future lay ahead. The only reason I thought this was because I was a hopeless fool.
After lectures, I directed my steps towards the university clock tower. It seemed that many circles were
holding new member information sessions in that vicinity.
Around the base of the clock tower milled throngs of freshmen, their faces still blushing with springs of hope,
as well as crafty circle members, eager to prey on those same hopes. Thinking that among these countless
circles lay an entrance to the phantasmic illusion of the entrance to a rosy student life, I wandered around in a
lightheaded daze.
The first thing I noticed was a group of students holding a billboard displaying “Misogi Movie Circle”. It looked
like they were screening a movie as a way of welcoming potential new recruits. However as I didn’t have the
nerve to introduce myself I kept circling the clock tower, scrutinizing one of the fliers I was holding. On it was
written in large, bold letters, “Disciples Wanted”.
“Clairvoyance to find the fated maiden within the crowds of Gion, and ears which perceiveth even the sound
of cherry blossoms falling into the canals. Appearing everywhere within the capital, passing freely between
heaven and earth. In the land of the gods he is known to all, feared by all, master of all. His name is Higuchi
Shintaro. Come, young ones who hold promise. Assemble on the thirtieth of April before the clock tower. No
phone number.”
Of all the dubious fliers in the world, surely there was none that could match this. And yet, I began to think
that by steeling my nerves and jumping headlong into this brave new world I would lay the foundation of the
glorious future that was sure to come. Ambition was not a vice, but going down the wrong path would surely lead
to ruin.
As I scrutinized this flier, a voice suddenly called out to me. “My good fellow.” I turned around, and was
greeted with the sight of a very odd person who had been standing behind me. Though this was a college
campus he was wearing a threadbare yukata, puffing on a cigar, and sporting a five o’clock shadow on his
scruffy eggplant-shaped face. I couldn’t tell whether he was a college student or not. Though he radiated a
fundamentally suspicious aura, for some reason his bearing and his roguish, endearing smile gave him the
demeanor of a nobleman..
This was Master Higuchi.
“I see you’ve found my flier. I am currently seeking disciples.”
“What kind of disciples?”
“Come, come, no need to be so hasty. This is your senior disciple.”
Beside the Master stood an eerie-looking fellow with a face of ill portent. For a moment, I thought he was a
hellspawn that only I could see.
“I’m Ozu. Pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Though he is your mentor, he only has you beat by 15 minutes,” Master Higuchi chuckled dryly.
Though we would go on to visit bars hundreds of times, the only time I was ever treated by Master Higuchi
would be that first time. As I was not accustomed to drinking. I became rather boisterous, and immediately hit it
off with Master Higuchi upon learning that he lived in the same boarding house as I. We went back to his 4½-
tatami room, and together with Ozu started heatedly discussing some impenetrable topic.
At first Ozu was quiet, as though he were Death himself standing ominously at your bedside, but he soon
started to babble on on the subject of tits. We argued passionately about whether the breasts that we saw with
our eyes were real or not, and eventually discussing the matter in terms of quantum mechanics. At this point,
Master Higuchi stated, “It doesn’t matter whether they’re real or not. What matters is whether you believe they
are.” Soon after this profound statement, I lost consciousness.
Thus, I became Master Higuchi’s disciple, and became acquainted with Ozu.
What kind of disciple was I? That was a question to which, even after two years, I still did not know the
answer.

　　　　　　　○

Associating with the eccentric Master Higuchi meant that lofty ideals like perseverance, humility, and decorum
went right out the window. Even if I were to confront him with these splendid principles, in the end neither of us
wretched beings would gain anything. The first thing I had to learn in dealing with him was the concept of tribute.
This meant food and sundries.
The only ones who went in and out of the Master’s room were me and Ozu, Akashi, and a dental hygienist
named Hanuki. Yet at times, the Master would depend solely on us for 90% of his food. I suppose he consumed
the morning dew for the other 10%.
I wonder what he would do if we all were to suddenly cut all ties with him. Only a novice would think that he
would lift a finger to help himself. In fact, losing his food source would only make the Master even more regally
determined not to make any effort: such was the unparallelled resolve of the Master, attained through his
rigorous ascetic lifestyle. If a shortage of food was all it took to make him desperate, he would already have
acted, given the hard times he had fallen on, on top of his lackluster academic results. A mere famine would
hardly be enough to perturb him. Such was the art of the Master: to convince us that he would rather starve to
death than put in the effort to help himself.
Even if we were to stop sending him food, we weren’t certain that he would actually get hungry at all. It
seemed that he had the mystical power of being able to stave off pangs of hunger simply by puffing on his cigar.
Few students have managed to attain such a state of mind.
It was hard to imagine such a person being afraid of anything, but there was a single incident where he
admitted to being afraid.
Not only did he refuse to return that book he had borrowed from me, he also never returned library books.
When I brought up the fact that his books were due six months ago, he simply replied “That’s right. That’s why
I’m afraid of the Library Police.”
“Is there such a thing as Library Police?” I asked Ozu.
“There is!” he replied with a look of dread. “It’s an organization that uses the most inhuman methods to
forcibly retrieve overdue library books.”
“Liar.”
“You got me.”

　　　　　　　○

One night, I found myself part of a clandestine gathering on the Yoshida Shrine road in the Sakyo ward.
Though many high school and college students come here to pray for success in their exams each year, it’s
said that Yoshida Shrine has the mystical power to automatically make anyone who does so fail their exams, and
that half the water in Lake Biwa is composed of the tears shed by all the souls who are forced to take a gap year
on account of failing to make it into their dream schools. I maintained a respectful distance from the shrine, but
even that precaution didn’t keep all my grades from slipping away like so much sand through my fingers. The
magic of Yoshida Shrine is certainly not something to be trifled with.
Given how many credits I was missing, I did not want to so much as step foot onto the shrine grounds, but
due to a series of unfortunate events I was compelled to attend this midnight coven on the shrine road.
It had been two years since I had entered university. Now that May was almost over, it was sweltering during
the day, but when night fell the air turned cool. Illuminated only by the glimmering light of the campus clock
tower, Konoe Street was all but deserted; only the occasional nocturnal student slithered by. If this had been a
nighttime tryst with an artless raven-haired maiden, I wouldn’t have minded waiting here all alone at all. In fact, I
probably would have felt a sheepish excitement. However, tonight I was here to see Ozu, a filthy, black-hearted,
Y chromosome-bearing youkai. I wanted to just bail on the meeting and leave now, but if I did, I would lose my
standing with Master Higuchi. Reluctantly, I waited. Ozu was supposed to come in a car borrowed from an
upperclassman in his circle called Aijima. I whiled away the minutes by imagining Ozu accidentally running off
the road and being smashed into a million little pieces.
 After some time, a little round car came trundling down East Ichijō Street and stopped near the main campus
gate. From within a dark figure hopped out and started walking my way; to my great sorrow, it was Ozu.
“Good evening. Did you wait long?” he asked pleasantly.
Tonight his demeanor was even more suspect than usual, as though the harbinger of a most imminent doom:
he could scarcely hide his anticipation towards what was about to transpire.This was a person who sated himself
on three meals of other people’s misfortune every day. Keep in mind that the immoral, shameless plan for tonight
was solely this man’s idea and was not in any way suggested by me. I am the polar opposite of him: a veritable
saint, a man of virtue. I was only doing this for the sake of the Master.
We got in the car and started driving towards the maze of residential districts to the south. Ozu was in a very
bubbly mood.
“Akashi’s refusal almost sank the entire plan, man. Of all the places to go soft, am I right?”
“Most upstanding people would be opposed to this, especially me!”
“This again? You know you actually enjoy it on the inside.”
“As if I would! I’m only here on the Master’s orders, don’t forget that,” I repeated. “You do realize this is illegal,
don’t you?”:
“Really now?” he tilted his head, but the effect was less cute than eerie.
“A most heinous crime. Trespassing, theft, kidnapping” I reeled them off.
“Kidnapping only applies to humans, doesn’t it? We’re only stealing a love doll.”
“Don’t say it so plainly! Use code words, or something.”
“You say that, but I know you really just interested in seeing it yourself. We go back way too far for you to be
able to hide that kind of thing from me. You probably want to touch it, too. What a perv you are.”
He leered suggestively at me.
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
I made to undo my seatbelt and open the door, at which he hastily backpedaled with the most soothing voice
he could muster. “All right, all right,” he said. “That was uncalled for. Cheer up, huh? It’s all for the Master’s sake,
after all.”

　　　　　　　○

The origins of the conflict have long since been lost in the mists of time, but Master Higuchi called it the
“Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War”. All I could glean from the name was that it was some sort of uncivilized
squabble. About five years ago, Master Higuchi and a man named Jōgasaki had had a falling out, and with one
thing leading to another, the neighborhood was soon enveloped in the flames of war which continued even to the
present day.
Sometimes Master Higuchi would, out of the blue, remember to harass Jōgasaki, who would return fire; this
cycle repeated over and over. Each successive generation of the Master’s disciples was called to toss away its
dignity and champion his cause in this imbroglio. I was no exception. The only one who showed any enthusiasm
towards this duty was Ozu, who appeared to be in his element.
Jōgasaki was the head of a certain movie circle, and as a doctoral student wielded considerable power, but
alas, Ozu was also a member of that circle. Last autumn, Ozu had used every trick he had up his sleeve and
actually expelled Jōgasaki from the circle. As befitting his underhanded nature, Ozu had goaded Aijima, who was
also part of the circle, into pulling off a coup d’état. Jōgasaki still bore a grudge against Aijima, the ringleader of
the conspiracy, but had no clue that it was actually Ozu pulling the strings behind the scenes.
Not knowing what to do with himself after being kicked out, Jōgasaki renewed the age-old war with Master
Higuchi. Things escalated from minor spats, and finally culminated in April of this year with Master Higuchi’s
beloved blue yukata being dyed pink. Master Higuchi ordered Ozu to draft a plan for a counterattack. Ozu,
displaying his cunning as the lieutenant of darkness, came up with a plan most vile.
It was called “Operation: Kidnap Kaori”.

　　　　　　　○

Jōgasaki lived at the foot of Mount Yoshida, in a recently rebuilt charming two-story apartment building next to
a bamboo grove in Yoshida Shimo Ōjichō. Ozu and I left the car and hid ourselves in the shadows of a concrete
wall next to the apartment. I felt like an agent from the depths of hell, and I was sure that Jōgasaki would have
agreed. Considering that we were stealing his most beloved treasure, we could hardly protest if he were to call
us hellions sent from the abyss.
Ozu peeped over the top of the concrete wall. Jōgasaki lived on the second floor, on the south side of the
building, and the lights were still on inside his place.
“What’s he still doing in there?” A note of frustration crept into his voice. “We’re in a bind if Akashi doesn’t hold
up her end of the deal.”
“I feel kind of bad for her. We shouldn’t have forced her to help us.”
“What? She’s one of Master Higuchi’s disciples as well, and we need her for this. When it comes to idiots,
there’s no difference between males and females.”
We stood in the alley trying not to move, squirming in the darkness where the streetlights couldn’t reach. If we
were spotted by someone, they’d surely report us.
The longer we stood there, the more I felt myself being polluted by Ozu’s foul influence. If it had been a
raven-haired maiden by my side, crouching here in the darkness wouldn’t have been such a big deal.
Unfortunately, it was Ozu. Why did I hide myself next to this sinister fellow? Did I go wrong somewhere? Was the
fault within myself? At least give me someone more like-minded to myself, if not a raven-haired maiden.
“I’m starting to get worried. It looks like the schedule’s gone awry.”
“There’s no way Akashi would cooperate in a crime like this. Let’s just call it a day.”
“We can’t. We’ve already gone to the trouble of borrowing Aijima’s car, there’s no way we can give up now.”
Ozu frowned and clung to the wall like a gecko.
“So what exactly happened between Master Higuchi and Jōgasaki anyhow? Why are they continuing this
pointless battle? And why the hell do we have to do this?” I complained.
“The Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War.”
“And what’s that?”
“Beats me.” Ozu cocked his head. “I don’t understand it either.”
“So basically we’re wasting our precious youth fighting a war that nobody remembers the reason for. Isn’t
there something else we could be doing?”
 “This is part of our training to develop ourselves as human beings. Though it’s obvious that standing around
here with you is a waste of time.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
“Don’t look at me with those eyes!”
“Oi, stop clinging to me.”
“But I’m lonely, and this wind is making me cold.”
“You lonely bastard—”
“Kyaa!”
Killing time in the darkness with this mockery of a lovers’ quarrel was not much of a distraction. And for some
reason, it felt like I had done this before, which began to frustrate me.
“Hey, haven’t we had a conversation like this before?”
“No way, not something this dumb. It’s probably just déjà vu.”
Suddenly Ozu crouched down. I followed suit.
“The light in his room just went out.”
We held our breath, as a man came tramping down the stairs. He went to the bike lot and wheeled out a
scooter. I had seen him several times before, and no matter how I looked at him he seemed to be a splendid
fellow with a lot going for him, not like one to waste time on something as silly as the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy
War.
Compared to his overflowing vitality, the only thing that was overflowing from us was rotten juices.
“What a stud,” I sighed.
“You can’t judge on appearances, you know. He looks good on the outside, but the only thing that goes
through his head is tits.”
“You’re a fine one to talk.”
“How rude. I’ll have you know that I restrain myself properly when I think about breasts.”
Oblivious to the two of us standing next to the wall arguing about breasts, Jōgasaki put on his helmet,
straddled his bike, and rode off towards the east.
We oozed out of the darkness and went around to the stairs.
“He won’t be back for a while,” Ozu giggled.
“Where is he going?”
“Karafune Café on Shirakawa Street. He’ll be waiting there drinking coffee for at least two hours, but what he
doesn’t know is that Akashi is never going to show up. What a moron!”
“Well that sucks.”
“Now, let’s get to work!”
He ascended the stairs. Now we had free access to his room, except that neither of us knew how to pick a
lock. For that, Ozu had gone through Jōgasaki’s ex-girlfriend and surreptitiously obtained a copy of the key. It
wasn’t just the matter of the lock; Ozu knew absolutely everything about Jōgasaki’s private life. Once, when
Jōgasaki was exchanging letters with a woman, Ozu even got his hands on the letters themselves; such was his
meticulousness.
“He who controls information controls the world.” He was fond of such acrobatic sayings, and in his notebook,
almost like the Heibonsha World Encyclopedia in its thoroughness, were carefully written down the deepest
secrets of various people. Whenever I thought about this I was overcome with the urge to run as far away from
this twisted individual as my legs would take me..
Upon opening the door we were greeted with a kitchen and a 4½-tatami room with wooden floors; across
from us was a glass door partitioning off the rest of the apartment. Ozu slid in first, his experienced hands deftly
finding the lights as if he was used to coming into this apartment. When I mentioned this, he nodded.
“He was the circle leader, after all. He still makes me come over sometimes so he can complain to me, and
that usually takes a while. It’s quite a pain,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“You scoundrel.”
“I’d rather you call me a strategist.”
I didn’t want to get too involved in this crime, so like a gentleman I stepped past the front door but went no
further.
“Come on, this way,” Ozu urged, but I stood my ground.
“You go look for it. I’m not going past here. It’s only manners, after all.”
“We’re already here, aren’t we? Well, if you still want to play the gentleman at this point, suit yourself.”
Giving up the dispute, Ozu went further into the apartment alone. From the dark reaches of the back room, I
could hear him rustling around, followed by the sound of him stumbling over something. Presently he started to
chortle and talk to himself, sounding irritatingly pleased.
“Come on, Kaori, don’t be shy. Dump that loser Jōgasaki and come along with me.”
After a short while Ozu emerged into the kitchen carrying a woman beneath his arm. My jaw just about
dropped to the floor.
“This is Kaori,” he announced. “Damn, I didn’t reckon on her being so heavy.”

　　　　　　　○

Many people, myself included, are aware of the existence of the miserable things called “Dutch Wives”,
otherwise known as sex dolls. At the time, I disdained them as objects bought exclusively by sobbing, pitiful men
unable to resist their carnal desires.
In May, Ozu learned that Jōgasaki secretly had a Dutch Wife of his own. This was no ordinary sex doll: it was
made of super-premium quality silicone and cost over one hundred thousand yen. He insisted that it was only
proper to call it a love doll.
If you were to say that Jōgasaki had been driven to the depths of despair by suddenly being kicked out of his
own circle, as well as dumped by his girlfriend, and had succumbed to his loneliness, it might be understandable,
if unlikely, for him to impulsively buy such a thing. But that was not the case. It seemed that Jōgasaki had owned
that love doll for at least two years. In that time he had also been romantically involved with real women, so in a
sense you could say that he was a hardcore love doll fanatic. It was hard for me to imagine it.
“Living with and cherishing a love doll is a special thing. It has absolutely nothing to do with whether you have
a real girlfriend or not. It’s a very refined sort of love, something a brute like you who only sees a love doll as a
tool could never understand.”
Since it was Ozu saying this, I was pretty sure that all of that was malarkey.
 And yet, the love doll called Kaori that Ozu dragged out was so beautiful, so exquisite, I could hardly believe it
was just a doll. Her black hair was combed neatly, and her elegant clothing was properly buttoned up. Her
dreamy eyes gazed gently at me.
I unconsciously blurted out, “So that’s…”.
Ozu raised a finger to his lips, hissing “Shhh! Not so loud!” He almost looked proud, as if to say, “Here she is.
If you’re not careful, you might fall for her!”
He laid her down on the kitchen floor with some difficulty, as though she weighed as much as a real person. It
was like an illustration from a Showa-era horror novel brought to life: a repulsive youkai crouching beside a
sleeping beauty.
“Come on, we need to get her to the car.”
Unexpectedly business-like in contrast to his appearance, Ozu urged me to pick Kaori up. She simply lay
there smiling sweetly. Her skin looked just like regular skin, and was soft to the touch. Her hair was carefully
groomed, her clothes were arranged with nary a thread out of place. You might have thought that she was a lady
born into nobility, frozen in time as she gazed wistfully into the distance.
As I stared at her, I became aroused—I mean, aroused to anger.
Though I wasn’t personally acquainted with Jōgasaki, I had to admit that this was a very insular, but refined
sort of love. Kaori had such an elegant expression on her face, it was impossible to imagine her leading any sort
of corrupt lifestyle. Her smoothed hair, her immaculate clothing, everything indicated the depth of Jōgasaki’s love
for her. A brigand like Ozu, who saw her only as a tool for sexual gratification, would never understand. To ruin
the delicate, graceful world that Jōgasaki and Kaori had constructed would be an unforgivable crime, a mortal
sin, even were it under the Master’s orders. It was outrageous to snatch her away from here.
I, who had thus far walked this barren path without questioning Master Higuchi, could not swallow the cruel
act in front of me. Master, I just can’t do it.
I seized Ozu, who was still gleefully pawing her all over, by the lapels.
“Stop that.”
“Why?”
“I won’t let you lay a finger on her.”
Jōgasaki, lift your head up and keep walking on your own path. The future is what you make of it. I let out an
encouraging yell in my heart. Of course, it was directed towards Kaori as well.

　　　　　　　○

That night, I returned to my residence dragging Ozu behind me, who was still making all sorts of dissenting
cries like a small animal.
I lived in a boarding house called Shimogamo Yūsuisō, which is located in Shimogamo Izumigawa. I had
heard that the place had burned down in the chaos at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, was rebuilt in exactly
the same fashion, and had not been renovated since. If it hadn’t been for the light leaking out of the windows,
one could be forgiven for mistaking it for an abandoned ruin. When I first visited this place during the co-op
association tour after orientation I thought I had wandered into Kowloon Walled City. Just looking at its crumbling
wooden frame was enough to induce anxiety, and it was probably sufficiently dilapidated that it could be placed
on the list of Japan’s Important Cultural Properties. Yet if it were to burn down I doubt that anyone would even
bat an eye. Even the landlord who lives to the east would most certainly be relieved.
It was the wee hours of the morning by the time I ascended the stairs with Ozu. I lived in room 110 on the first
floor, but Master Higuchi lived above me in the deepest recesses of the second floor, room 210. Through the
window above his door, we could see that the lights were still on; it appeared that he was awaiting our
triumphant return. To be honest, I felt bad for betraying his expectations and tossing the proxy war aside. I would
need to bring him something to placate him.
I opened the door to find Master Higuchi and Akashi sitting on the floor facing one another. At first it appeared
as if the Master was lecturing his disciple, but in fact it was Akashi who was giving the Master a stern dressing-
down. When she saw us enter empty-handed, she gave a sigh of relief.
“You aborted the plan, then?”
I silently nodded, while Ozu just sulked.
“Welcome back, gentlemen,” Master Higuchi said, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.
I pushed Ozu aside and gave a full account of what had happened. Master Higuchi dipped his head slightly
and lit a cigar, and passed a second to Akashi; together they let out a long puff. In our absence, It looked as if
they had had a long debate, ending up with an overwhelming victory for Akashi.
“Well, I suppose things turned out for the best tonight,” the Master conceded.
Ozu opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but the Master thundered, “SILENCE.
“All things have their limits. Certainly, the incident with my yukata being dyed pink was highly regrettable.
However, it is also true that tearing apart the long, happy union of Jōgasaki and Kaori in such a cowardly fashion
would also be an exceedingly cruel thing to do. Even if she is a doll.”
Ozu interjected “But, Master, that’s not what you were saying before—“
“Be quiet, Ozu!” Akashi snapped.
“At any rate,” the Master continued, “this was a breach of the rules that Jōgasaki and I set down. Not only
that, but it was a grievous aberration for us imponderous beings who seek to traverse the firmament. I got too
rash thinking about the tragic loss of my yukata.”
He let out a sorrowful puff of smoke.
“Are you satisfied?” he put to Akashi.
“I am,” she replied.
Thus, Operation: Kidnap Kaori was no more. Ozu, under our three combined icy gazes, made hasty
preparations to leave. “I, uh, have a banquet tomorrow night at the Kamogawa Delta with my circle. So many
things, so little time…” he said huffily, with all the conviction of a fish burger.
“I’m sorry, Ozu. I can’t make it tomorrow,” Akashi said. She was also a member of the same circle as him.
“Why not?”
“I need to do research and get to work on my report.”
“What’s more important, your studies or the circle?” Ozu drew himself up. “You need to come to the banquet.”
“I refuse,” Akashi curtly responded.
Ozu deflated as quickly as he had puffed himself up. Master Higuchi smiled.
“You are quite intriguing,” he said, praising Akashi.

　　　　　　　○
 The evening after the Kaori kidnapping attempt, I walked along Great Sanjō Bridge, my mind galloping over
my memories of the last two years. The muggy summer heat had finally let up, and a cool breeze was blowing
by. There was a near-infinite number of things that I regretted doing, but the one I regretted most was meeting
Master Higuchi in front of the clock tower. If I hadn’t met him there, somehow, things would have been different.
I’d thought about going into the Misogi movie circle, or the Honwaka softball circle, or even the Lucky Cat
Chinese Restaurant secret society. No matter which I had picked, I certainly would have become a much more
worthwhile, wholesome person.
As night fell over the town, lights flickered on one by one, spurring me further along this train of thought, but I
dismissed it from my mind and stepped into an old-fashioned shop near the west end of Great Sanjō Bridge. I
was here looking for a kamenoko scrubbing brush on the Master’s behalf.
According to the tale that Master Higuchi spun me, the kamenoko brush had been produced for over a
hundred years by the Nishio Shoten Co. using coconut and Chinese windmill palm fibers. In the turbulence at the
end of the Pacific War, the secret technique was stolen by a medical student, who used the fibers of a certain
type of palm which grows only in Taiwan to produce and sell his own kamenoko brush. The brush apparently
uses the Van der Waals force to bind dirt to the innumerable firm, incredibly fine bristle tips at the molecular
level, effortlessly lifting off any sort of dirt or grime: the ultimate cleaning weapon. Due to pressure from other
firms which feared that such awesome power would adversely affect soap and detergent sales, the brush was
never sold on the mass-market, but it’s said that even now the mysterious brush is still being produced in secret.
Master Higuchi’s chambers were so squalid as to be nearly unlivable. If a cloistered young lady were to gaze
into the filth of the sink I guarantee that she would faint on the spot. Never before seen lifeforms continued to
secretly evolve in the corners of the sink, and when I pointed this out, I was told by the Master that the
kamenoko brush was required to clean the sink, and that I needed to get it or face excommunication.
I wanted to tell him to excommunicate me on the spot.
Hence my visit to this shop tonight, which carried a wide variety of scrubbing brushes. As I haltingly explained
that I was looking for this magical brush, the shopkeeper’s mouth slowly curled into a smirk. Of course, even I
couldn’t take this seriously.
“Well now, I don’t think I’ve got anything like that in back,” the shopkeeper chuckled.
I fled into the crowds outside on Sanjō Street to escape his mocking stare.
There was also my failure to kidnap Kaori. At this rate I just wanted to excommunicate myself.
I wandered towards Kawaramachi Street, passing in front of the famous pachinko parlor where a group of
ronin plotting to burn down Kyoto were attacked by the Shinsengumi in olden times. It was rather mystifying as to
why they would choose to hatch their plan at a pachinko parlor.
I couldn’t return to Shimogamo Yūsuisō just yet. Even if I couldn’t find the mystical scrubbing brush, I needed
to find something else that would appease the Master. Perhaps a fine Cuban cigar would do the trick, or fresh
fish from Nishiki Market.
Worried out of my mind, I tottered south down Kawaramachi Street. As the night progressed, the crowds grew
larger, further aggravating my distemper. I dropped into a shop called Gabi Used Books Books to browse for a
bit, but as soon as I stepped foot inside the proprietor, whose face resembled a boiled octopus, glowered at me
and shouted, “We’re closed! Out, out, out!” driving me off as if I was a venomous insect. I was something of a
regular here, and while treating all customers equally is an admirable policy, it was frustrating all the same.
 Not knowing where else to go, I walked through the chasm of buildings, and into Kiyamachi.
Ozu had said that he had a banquet with his circle tonight. That bastard was probably surrounded by adoring
freshmen and having the time of his life at this very minute, whereas I had failed to find Master Higuchi’s so-
called mystical brush, been chased out of the refuge of the bookstore, and was doomed to wander the crowds
alone. Surely this was an injustice of the highest degree.
As I brooded near one of the footbridges on the Takase Canal, I spotted Hanuki’s face in the crowds of
Kiyamachi. I immediately ducked my head and pretended to be just another flustered pedestrian trying to light a
cigarette, hoping that she wouldn’t notice me.
Hanuki was a mysterious dental hygienist who also frequented Master Higuchi’s place, and odds were she
was sauntering around Kiyamachi looking to get plastered. The one time I had the misfortune of running into her
downtown, I spent the night being dragged from Kiyamachi to Pontochō like a helpless captive being dragged
behind an outlaw’s horse in one of those old Westerns, and when I came to I was collapsed on the ground alone
near Ebisugawa Power Plant.Thankfully it had been summer, or I would have frozen to death under the bare
trees. Tonight I would rather not be dragged around on an endless night of hell and be poisoned half to death
with coffee-infused shochu. I ducked my head out of sight, and Hanuki passed on by.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then again it wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
It was at that moment, just as I resolved to expel myself from Master Higuchi’s discipleship, that I met the old
lady.

　　　　　　　○

In between the bars and brothels, a dark, squeezed sort of house stood in the shadows. Under the overhang,
an old woman sat at a wooden stall covered by a white cloth; she looked like a fortune teller. The sign hanging
off the front of the stall was inscribed with all manner of arcane, incomprehensible runes. Above it, the hag’s
head floated in the gloom, lit only by the hazy orange light of a small lantern. It was a ghastly sight, like seeing a
ravenous ghost hungering for the souls of passersby. I began to imagine all manner of misfortune befalling me:
the shadow of the old woman seemed to follow me everywhere I went; nothing I did went right; people I was
expecting never showed up; possessions vanished, never to be seen again; I failed courses that should have
been a cinch; a thesis that I was about to present spontaneously combusted; I fell into the canals of Lake Biwa; I
was caught by a snake-oil salesman on Shijō Street; and so forth. While these wild thoughts were going through
my head, the old woman noticed me looking at her. She glared at me from the inky darkness with gleaming eyes,
drawing me in with her otherworldly emanations. Her suspicious aura was strangely persuasive, and logically
thinking I came to the conclusion that the divinations of someone who allowed her supernatural aura to flow so
freely could not possibly be wrong.
In my twenty-odd years of life, there had been but a handful of times where I humbly took someone’s advice.
What if that was the reason I was stuck on this thorny path, unable to move forward? Though I took few risks in
life, wasn’t there a possibility that I could choose the thorn-lined path. If only I had chosen to stop relying on my
own judgment earlier, my campus life certainly would have taken a different shape. I would not have become the
disciple of the enigmatic Master Higuchi, nor met the twisted Ozu, nor let the past two years of my life go to
complete waste. Rather, I would have been blessed with wonderful mentors and friends, become accomplished
in all the arts and sciences, of course have a beautiful raven-haired maiden at my side, face a glittering golden
future ahead of me, and perhaps even have that all-important rosy student life in the palm of my hand. That was
the kind of life suited for someone like myself.
That’s right. It wasn’t too late. The sooner I took a third-party’s objective advice, the sooner I could escape
this dreary life into the life that I was meant to live.
I moved my legs toward the old woman as if I was being sucked in by her supernatural aura.
“Boy, what is it that you wish to hear?”
The old woman mumbled her words like her mouth was full of cotton, giving the impression that they were all
the more valuable.
“I’m not sure where to start…”
Seeing me at a loss for words, she grinned.
“I can see from your face that you are very frustrated, unsatisfied. You are not able to use your full talents;
your current situation is not suited for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!”
“Show me your hands.”
The old hag took my palms and peered into them, nodding approvingly.
“You have much earnest talent in you.”
I quickly tipped my hat to her keen insight. A true master hides his skills, and I had hidden my talents for so
long that even I didn’t realize I had them any more. For this old woman to sense those talents within five minutes
of meeting me must mean that she was no ordinary person.
“It is essential that you not let opportunities slip away. An opportunity is nothing more than a favorable
circumstance, you understand? But it’s difficult to take hold of opportunities. Sometimes they hide in places you
don’t expect, and sometimes it is only later that you realize something that seemed like an opportunity was really
nothing at all. But in order to seize an opportunity you must act. You look like you will have a long life, so sooner
or later you will be have the chance.”
As befitting her aura, her words were truly profound.
“I don’t want to wait forever; I want grab my opportunity now. Can you be a little more specific?”
At my probing, the wrinkles on the old woman’s face contorted even further. I thought her right cheek must be
itchy or something, but it turned out that she was just smiling.
“It’s hard to be specific about the future. Even if I were to tell you about a precise opportunity, it might very
well be twisted and warped by the machinations of fate until it was no longer a opportunity when you chanced
upon it, and that would just be a disservice to you, wouldn’t it? Fate is something that changes from moment to
moment, you see.”
“But, everything you’ve told me is too vague to act on.”
As I stood there in confusion, she exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Very well. I will refrain from speaking of things far ahead, but I can speak of things that will soon come to
pass.
I widened my ears like Dumbo.
“Colosseum,” she suddenly whispered.
“Colosseum? What’s that?”
 “It is the sign of an opportunity. When an opportunity arrives, it will be accompanied by Colosseum,” she
intoned.
“So are you telling me I need to go to Rome?”
But the old woman merely grinned.
“When your opportunity comes, you mustn’t let it slip away, you mustn’t fumble around aimlessly as you have
been doing. Seize it, boldly, daringly! If you do, you will no longer be unsatisfied, and be able to embark on a
new path, though that path may hold hardships of its own. Then again, I expect that you understand this quite
well.”
I didn’t understand in the slightest, but I nodded anyway.
“Even if you don’t catch this one, you don’t need to worry. You are a splendid young man, so someday without
a doubt you will make it. I can see it. There’s no need to rush.”
With that, the old woman brought her divinations to an end.
“Thank you very much.”
I nodded my thanks and paid the fee. I turned around only to find Akashi standing behind me.
“A little lost lamb, are we?” she said.

　　　　　　　○

Akashi started visiting Master Higuchi’s room last fall. After Ozu and me, she was his third disciple. She had
also joined one of Ozu’s circles, eventually becoming his right-hand woman. Thus their two fates became
intertwined, and so almost inevitably she became one of Master Higuchi’s disciples.
Akashi was a student in the engineering department a year younger than me. Not one to mince words, she
was respected but largely avoided by most people. Whenever she encountered something she deemed illogical
she was always prepared to debate the point with her brow wrinkled underneath her short black hair. There was
something a little distant in her eyes, and she rarely showed signs of weakness. It was befuddling why she would
choose to become friends with Ozu, and why she would become a vassal of Master Higuchi’s 4½-tatami domain.
During the summer of her freshman year, another freshman had carelessly asked her, “Akashi, what do you
do on the weekends?”
She replied without even looking up, “Why should I tell you?”
After that, no one asked her about her weekend plans.
I heard about that exchange some time later from Ozu, and proudly thought to myself, “Akashi, you just keep
doing your own thing.”
But even she, as unyielding and unapproachable as a medieval European fortress, had a single weakness.
Last autumn, just after she had become Master Higuchi’s disciple, I ran into her in the lobby of Shimogamo
Yūsuisō, and we ascended the stairs together to go visit the Master. Akashi was walking in front of me, her back
ramrod straight as though she were an wartime inspector, when she suddenly shrieked as though she were a
character from a manga and came falling headlong down the stairs in front of me. I swiftly ran up and caught her,
or rather, was squashed by her falling form while trying to escape. She clung to me, her hair disheveled, but I
couldn’t hold her up for very long, and we both tumbled down the stairs to the corridor.
 A frail moth fluttered above our heads. While we were climbing the stairs, it seemed that that moth had
decided to alight upon Akashi’s face. She apparently was deathly afraid of moths.
“It squished, it squished…” she whispered over and over, her entire body trembling, her face as pale as if she
had just seen a ghost. Normally she walled herself off from the world, and the fascination I felt seeing such a
person show a moment of weakness is indescribable. At that moment, I, who as her senior disciple and mentor
should know better, very nearly fell in love.
Akashi continued to mutter incoherently while I chivalrously comforted her.

　　　　　　　○

As we walked along, I explained the story behind the kamenoko brush to Akashi, while she frowned
sympathetically.
“Master Higuchi’s really asking for the impossible this time.”
“I bet he’s still livid with my failure to kidnap Kaori last night,” I surmised, but she shook her head.
“I don’t think that’s it, this kidnapping thing isn’t like him at all. He seemed repentant after I told him as much
last night.”
“I wonder about that...”
“It was you who decided not to go through with the plan, wasn’t it? I would have been pretty disgusted with
you If you hadn’t turned back.”
“But didn’t you help out Ozu with distracting Jōgasaki?”
“No, I didn’t do anything. In the end the Master had to call him.”
“I see.”
“Besides, doing things that make us feel bad is against the Master’s teachings, isn’t it?”
“Somehow, it sounds more convincing when you say it.”
She smiled wryly and gave a little satisfied toss of her short black hair.
“I failed to kidnap Kaori, and now I can’t find the brush. It looks like my days as a disciple are over,” I sighed.
“No, you’re not done yet,” she said firmly, starting to walk even faster. Her confident stride reminded me of
Sherlock Holmes, whereas I scurried after her like a timid, desperate client calling on the office on Baker Street.
“I’ve been wondering about it for a little while, but what exactly happened between Master Higuchi and
Jōgasaki?” she inquired as we picked our way through an alley towards Kawaramachi.
“Jōgasaki was in your circle, wasn’t he? You never heard anything from him?”
“Not a whisper.”
“Well, the only thing I know is that it’s called the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War.”
“There must have been some really extraordinary event to begin with.”
She suddenly stopped in front of the shop I had visited just a while ago, Gabi Used Books.
The sour-faced shop owner was shutting up the store, but when he saw Akashi a broad smile appeared on
his face. It was as if he was the old bamboo cutter seeing Princess Kaguya for the first time. Apparently Akashi
worked part-time at the bookstore, and also dropped in whenever she was in the area to chat. Even so, make
this crusty fellow melt like a marshmallow was no mean feat. The difference between this man and the man who
had chased me out earlier was like night and day.
 While I looked at the complete collections of Ueda Akinari displayed in the shop window, Akashi talked to the
shop owner, who nodded and listened attentively. At last, he shook his head apologetically and pointed towards
the west.
“It’s not here. Let’s keep looking,” Akashi said to me, and our search for the kamenoko brush wound its way
west.
We crossed Kawaramachi Street and walked along Takoyakushi Street, entering the crowded Shinkyōgoku
shopping arcade. From there, I followed as she headed into an alley stretching towards Teramachi and straight
into a second hand goods shop with old suitcases and electric lamps lined up along the front. I played around
with a tin submarine in the corner, while Akashi inquired about the brush and was directed to a general store in
Nishiki Market.
I trundled along obediently behind her as she went to the west end of the market and talked to a married
couple tending a dim, cluttered store; this time, she received information about a man on Bukkō-ji Street who
might know about the brush.
As the day faded we crossed Shijō Street, passed south by Bukkō-ji Temple, and walked back towards the
east. In contrast to the crowds around Shijō, there were few people out and about here, and the streets were
quiet.
Akashi stuck her head into a shop with its shutters half-closed and called out, “Excuse me!” She mentioned
the shop in Nishiki and was received favorably, calling me in as well.
Assorted odds and ends were placed all over the dirt floor. The thin, crane-like shop owner flicked a switch,
bathing the store in an orange glow.
“Where did you hear about that?” he inquired. I told him about Master Higuchi and my desperate task.
The shop owner’s thin, chiseled face looked even more dignified in the orange light, and my awe of him was
such that I could barely speak. After a moment he turned and went into the dark recesses of the shop, returning
shortly with a paulownia box. He opened the lid with little fanfare, revealing an ordinary-looking kamenoko brush.
“This is it,” he stated, handing the box to me.
“How much will it be?” I asked.
The shopkeeper squinted at me. “Let’s see…I’ll make it twenty thousand yen.”
No matter how magical these palm tree fibers were, there was no way I was paying twenty thousand yen for
this brush. If it was going to be that much, I would much rather choose to be gloriously expelled.
I excused myself by saying that I didn’t have that much money on hand, and left the shop, thinking about the
fate that awaited me.
“So what are you going to do? Are you going to buy it?” Akashi asked as we walked down Shijō Street.
“Like hell I will. Twenty thousand for a brush? Something like that is meant to be used in fancy restaurants like
the Shimogamo Saryo restaurant, not to scrub the sink in a filthy 4½-tatami room.”
“But didn’t the Master command you to retrieve it?”
“Might as well be expelled.”
“Knowing him, he won’t let you go that easily.”
“No, he has you. Ozu’s there too. It’s probably about time he let me go anyhow.”
“Stop being so pessimistic, please. I’ll talk to him for you.”
“I’m counting on you.”
 　　　　　　　○

Since I had become a disciple, I had endured a great many of Master Higuchi’s unreasonable demands. Now
that I think about it, I have no idea why I wasted so much time doing his bidding, considering that most of the
trials I underwent were utterly meaningless.
There are many universities in Kyoto, and of course many students as well. As students of Kyoto, we were
honor-bound to serve the city, or so the Master insisted. Rain or shine, Ozu and I spent hours sitting on a cold
stone bench along the Philosophers’ Walk, absorbed in Nishida Kitaro’s philosophical treatise “An Inquiry into the
Good”, discussing incomprehensible statements such as “From this perspective on mental phenomena,
perception is a kind of impulsive will...”. Our time was thus spent on the utterly unproductive goal of becoming a
tourist attraction, and on top that my stomach hurt from constantly sitting in the cold. I tried with all my body and
soul to continue, but by volume one, chapter three, entitled “Will”, I had completely burnt out.
At first, our faces were stoic, but we began to find it harder and harder to keep it together. We encountered a
passage that read “Originally, organisms perform various movements in order to preserve life.” Here, Ozu
repeated “…various movements in order to preserve life”. The indecent smile rising to his face was a clear
indication of how inordinately excited he was becoming. Without a doubt he was absorbed by some shameful
fantasy brought about by his Y chromosome. After having been forced to read incomprehensible works of
philosophy all day long in this quiet neighborhood, his dark urges had ripened like a bulging bunch of grapes,
and “An Inquiry into the Good” had been transformed in his mind to “A Technical Compendium of Sex Jokes”. Of
course, any thoughts of continuing our philosophical pursuits were dashed. If we were to proceed to the fourth
chapter on religion, we would surely begin to blaspheme everything around us, becoming unfit to walk among
society at large. It was probably a good thing that our determination, fortitude, and mental strength gave out
before we sullied the good name of Nishida Kitaro any further.
The Master was a Ferrari fan, so whenever a Ferrari won an F1 race, I was forced to shoulder the unpleasant
task running back and forth diagonally across the Hyakumanben intersection while bearing a huge red flag with
the prancing horse insignia, simultaneously trying to avoid becoming a smear on the bumpers of passing cars. I
had originally planned to make Ozu do it, but since he was the one who had scrounged the flag up and
presented it to the Master in the first place, I never had a chance. Furthermore, Ozu often agitated the Master
before running off, leaving me to bear the brunt of the Master’s capriciousness. In the end, I was the one who
spread the light of Ferrari over the world. Passing cars hurled insults at me, while pedestrians simply stared at
me with scornful eyes, driving me further into thoughts of violence.

　　　　　　　○

The Master always hungered for new things. His appetite matched the greatness of his stature, but in the end
it was always Ozu and I who had to supply him with these things.
It wasn’t just food, alcohol, and tobacco we provided him. Our sundry offerings included coffee mills folding
fans, and a Carl Zeiss monocular we won at a drawing in the shopping district. Even the copy of Twenty
Thousand Leagues Under the Sea that he had been absorbed in reading for the past year was originally mine: I
had bought it at the Shimogamo Shrine used book fair, intending to warm myself up with the classic tale of
adventure during the long, chilly autumn nights, but at it had somehow fallen into the Master’s hands. Getting
him snacks like Demachi Futaba’s mame mochi, Shogoin’s yatsuhashi, sea urchin crackers and Nishimura Eisei
Boro crackers was all well and good, but when he decided he wanted a banner from the used book fair and a
giant Keroyon frog statue, I was left scratching my head. Later when he asked for a life-sized Kamen Rider
figure, a tatami-sized fish cake, a seahorse, and a giant squid, I was brought to my knees. Where was I
supposed to find a giant squid?
We had once been told to go to Nagoya to get “miso katsu, hold the katsu” but I had to to tip my hat to Ozu,
who actually went all the way there and back on the same day. By the way, I had once gone all the way to Nara
just to get the crackers used to feed the local deer.
When Master Higuchi said that he wanted a seahorse, Ozu dug up a fish tank from God knows where and
filled it with water, but as he was putting in the gravel and water plants, an ominous cracking sound came from
the tank, and suddenly all the water came pouring out like a miniature Niagara Falls. The Master laughed
watching Ozu and I scrambling around the flooded 4½-tatami room. After a while, he remarked, “Won’t the water
be leaking through to the floor below?”
“Probably, considering how rundown this building is.” Ozu facepalmed. “The person below us is gonna be
pretty pissed. What should we do?”
“Hold on, that’s my room!” I yelped.
Ozu looked relieved. “Oh, no need to worry then. Leak on, I say!”
The water ended up leaking all the way through the floor, completely soaking my room. The dripping water
melted all my books together into a sodden mess, so that it was impossible to tell erotica from educational
materials. Not only that, but the electrons residing in my computer were all swept out to sea, and along with
them, my precious data and media files as well. Obviously, this incident was the death knell for what scholarly
aspirations I still possessed.
Without another word about the seahorse, Master Higuchi said “I want a giant squid,” and tossed the fish tank
that Ozu had obtained out into the corridor to gather dust. To distract himself from further thoughts about sea
creatures, Master Higuchi confiscated my copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and had refused to
give it back for almost a year now.
Once again, I was the one getting the short end of the stick.

　　　　　　　○

Among the many follies of Master Higuchi, the fierce “Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War” with Jōgasaki stands out
as one of the most severe.
Under the Master’s orders, we drew over Jōgasaki’s nameplate, blocked his front door with an old refrigerator,
and sent him a number of chain letters. In retaliation, Jōgasaki glued the Master’s geta to the floor, sent balloons
filled with black pepper into the room, and had twenty servings of sushi delivered to us under Master Higuchi’s
name. Master Higuchi wasn’t perturbed in the slightest when he received the sushi, and proceeded to invite a
number of foreign exchange students over for a sushi party. Of course, he was quite calm and collected about
the whole thing, but he made Ozu and me foot the bill.
 At the end of these two years of training, if one were to ask me whether I had improved myself as a young
man I would regrettably have to respond that I had not. As for why I spent all my time doing these things, I
suppose it was solely to please Master Higuchi. Whenever we made fools of ourselves doing some meaningless
activity, he looked absolutely delighted. If we brought him something that pleased him, he would tell us, “You
have come to understand as well,” and huge grin would spread across his face.
The Master never abased himself, always conducting himself with an air of utmost dignity. Yet when he
laughed, he looked as open and innocent as a child. With just a smile, the Master could have Ozu and me at his
beck and call; Hanuki called that special power “Higuchi Magic”.

　　　　　　　○

The day after the search for the kamenoko brush, I was jolted awake by a loud rapping at my door. It was only
seven in the morning, an hour that most college students would consider the middle of the night. I opened the
door to find Master Higuchi standing outside in the hallway, his hair frizzy and disheveled but his eyes gleaming.
“Do you even know what time it is?”
For a moment, the Master was silent, standing out in the cold hallway clutching a rectangular object to his
chest. Suddenly great teardrops began welled up in his eyes, his lip quivered, and eggplant-shaped face
crumpled as he wept and scrubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands like a bullied child. He finally managed
to choke out, “I’ve finished, I’ve finished it!”
“Finished what?” I nervously prodded.
“This.”
He reverently held out the rectangular object in his hands. It was Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea.
“This morning, the journey I have been on for the past year has ended. I was so moved, I wanted to let you
know. And of course, to return the book as well.”
For a moment it looked like he was going to collapse, but the way that he stood there with tears streaming
down his face, I couldn’t help but commiserate with him over the end of his twenty-thousand league journey.
He handed the book to me.
“Apologies for taking so long, truly. But it really was a wonderful journey,” he sighed. “By the way, I’ve been so
captivated by the book that I haven’t had time to eat. Won’t you join me for a bowl of gyūdon?”
Together we went out into the chilly morning air and headed towards a gyudon place near Hyakumanben.

　　　　　　　○

After finishing breakfast, Master Higuchi strolled off towards the Kamo River while I paid the bill for both of us.
I found him standing by the river, stroking his unshaven chin and staring contentedly at the hazy May sky
stretching out above us.
“Nice weather, isn’t it,” he remarked.
 We walked over to the Kamo Delta. Master Higuchi passed through the pine trees and descended the
embankment. Exiting from under the trees, the sky looked so wide and vast, it felt like we would be swallowed
up. Cars and pedestrians rushed to and fro on the Great Kamo Bridge in the dazzling morning sunlight.
Master Higuchi stood at the point of the delta as if it were the prow of a ship and lit a cigar. From the left, the
waters of the Kamo River flowed by, and from the right, the waters of the Takano River. They joined in front of
Master Higuchi and roared their way south with breathtaking fury. The rivers, swollen from the recent heavy
rains, submerged the green shrubbery that grew along the banks.
Taking a puff, the Master said, “I want to go somewhere far away.”
“That’s unexpected.”
As far as I knew, he had never been away from his 4½-tatami room for more than half a day.
“I’ve been considering it for quite some time, but it was reading Twenty Thousand Leagues that made up my
mind. Soon it will be time for me to ride the waves of the world.”
“Have you been saving up?”
“Of course not,” he laughed, coughing out smoke. He suddenly seemed to remember something.
“That reminds me; the other day while I was on campus, I met a fellow I used to drink with during my first two
years of college. I said hello, but he seem happy to see me at all. When he asked me what I was doing, I told
him that I was re-taking my German class, but he hurriedly took his leave after that.”
“If he was your classmate as an undergrad, then he’s probably working on his doctorate by now. So by now, it
would probably be awkward to meet someone who’s technically his underclassman now.”
“Why on earth would he feel awkward? It’s not him that had to retake a year…I don’t understand.”
“And that’s why you’re the Master.”
He put on a knowing expression.
Back when I was a freshman, the Master had warned me, “Under no circumstances must you repeat a year,
play video games, or play mahjong. Otherwise your student life will go to waste.” I had followed that teaching
faithfully and never once dipped my hand into any of those things, but somehow my student life had still gone to
waste. I tried to ask the Master about that once, but couldn’t.
We sat down on a bench on the embankment. Since it was Sunday morning, there were plenty of people
jogging or taking a stroll by the river.
“While I was looking for the kamenoko brush in Sanjō, I went to see a fortune teller,” I mumbled.
“You’ve hardly started life, yet you’ve already gone astray?” he smiled. “Why, you’ve hardly even left your
mother’s womb yet.”
“I don’t want to waste my last two years here looking for brushes, or fighting the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy
War, or looking for brushes, or listening to Ozu’s filth, or looking for brushes...”
“You needn’t be worried about the brush, I won’t expel you,” he reassured me. “You’ve done splendidly these
past two years. Never mind the next two years, I’m sure that you’ll be able to make a grand mess out of your
next three or even four years. In fact, I guarantee it.”
“I’d rather you not,” I sighed. “If I hadn’t met you and Ozu, I would surely have led a much more meaningful
life. I would have studied hard, gone out with raven-haired maidens, and enjoyed an untainted student life.
There’s no doubt in my mind about it.”
“I don’t think you’re quite awake yet.”
 “I’ve come to realize how much I have wasted my life. I should have thought more about what I could have
achieved. I choose poorly during freshman year. I have to grab hold of the opportunity when it comes around
again, and escape into a new life.”
“What opportunity?”
“Colosseum, or something like it. That’s what the fortune teller told me.”
“Colosseum?”
“I don’t really know what it means either.”
The Master scratched the stubble on his chin, scrutinizing me carefully. The piercing expression on his face
made him seem almost regal. It certainly didn’t suit the crumbling 4½-tatami room he inhabited in Shimogamo
Yūsuisō. It was more like the face of a prince who had been shipwrecked on the Seto Inland Sea and borne by
the currents to a solitary 4½-tatami island. And yet, he refused to throw away his threadbare yukata, and made
his throne the discolored tatami mats of his room.
“You can’t use a word like ‘opportunity’ as if it is limitless. What regulates our existence isn’t what we can do,
but rather what we can’t do,” he proclaimed. “Do you have the power to become a bunny girl? Or a pilot? Can
you become a carpenter, or a pirate sailing the seven seas? How about a master thief, stealing away the
treasures of the Louvre? What about the developer of a supercomputer?”
“No.”
He nodded thoughtfully, and in a rare gesture offered me a cigar. I gratefully took it and fumbled around trying
to light it.
“Most of the suffering in life results from dreaming of the life we wish we had. Trying to rely on something as
unreliable as your inner potential is the root of many kinds of evil. You must recognize that you are you, and you
cannot turn into anyone else but yourself. What you call the ‘rosy student life’ is unachievable, I guarantee it.
Resign yourself to your fate.”
“You don’t have to say it that way...”
“You must face the world unflinchingly. Try to learn from Ozu.”
“Not in a million years!”
“Now, don’t be so petulant. Just look at what he is. He’s certainly an incorrigible fool, yet he is confident in
everything he does. A genius who worries about everything will most certainly be less satisfied with life than a
fool who is self-assured.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Hmm…well, there are exceptions to everything, I suppose.”
We sat in silence for a time, watching the sun shining between the pine trees. Considering that I boasted an
average of ten hours of sleep a night, I was desperately short on my sleep quota, and being bathed in the warm
sunlight started to make me feel sleepy. The Master hadn’t gotten any sleep either, and was looking tired himself.
We sat there on the Kamo Delta, two strange little men in a trance, ruining the beautiful Sunday morning for
everyone else.
“Shall we return?”
“Yes, let’s.”
On the way back to Shimogamo Yūsuisō, we passed by the road to Shimogamo Shrine.
“You must settle down. Otherwise, you’ll never receive your inheritance,” the Master suddenly said, as if he
was talking to himself.
 “What inheritance? I asked, confused, but he just smiled and continued to suck on his cigar.

　　　　　　　○

No one knows what the future holds. In the midst of this bottomless darkness, one must unerringly seize the
things that are of advantage to him. To impart the value of this philosophy upon us, Master Higuchi proposed we
hold a blind hotpot in the dark. The ability to accurately pick out our desired food, even in the dark, is an
essential skill to survive in today’s cutthroat society, or so he said, but I had my doubts.
That night, Ozu, Hanuki, and I showed up at Master Higuchi’s 4½-tatami room for the hotpot. Due to an
approaching report deadline, Akashi was unable to come. I also insisted that I had a report due concerning an
exceedingly complex experiment, but my cries fell on deaf ears. Clearly, I was the victim of this sexist society.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make the proper arrangements with the print shop,” Ozu said, but relying on Ozu to get me
forged reports from the print shop was what was driving my scholarly pursuits into a downward spiral.
Each of us brought our own ingredients, but we were forbidden from discussing what they were until we put
them into the pot. Ozu, who was still fuming about the failed Kaori kidnapping, announced with a repulsive grin,
“You can put whatever you want into a blind hotpot, you know.”. Knowing Ozu, I began to fear for my life.
Ozu detested vegetables, but above all refused to recognize mushrooms as an edible food, so naturally I
brought a lovely assortment of mushrooms. Hanuki also had a mischievous smirk on her face.
It was so dark in the Master’s room that we could hardly make out each other’s faces. The first wave of
ingredients was emptied into the pot.
“Eat up, eat up!” Master Higuchi encouraged us.
“It’s not even cooked yet, though,” I objected.
“Don’t worry about that; just eat whatever your chopsticks touch,” he ordered by way of reply.
Meanwhile, Hanuki had cracked open a beer. “It doesn’t taste like beer at all in the dark,” she grumbled. “I
can’t get drunk when I can’t see anything!”

　　　　　　　○

I first met Hanuki in the summer of my freshman year, through Master Higuchi. Since then, I often
encountered her in the Master’s room.
She was beautiful, yet her expression was reminiscent of that of the wife of a military commander from the
Sengoku era. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she was more like a commander herself. There
was much ambition in her face. If times hadn’t changed, it seemed to me that she could have become a feudal
lord, able to cut me and Ozu in two on a whim. Her favorite foods were alcohol and castellas.
Hanuki worked as a dental hygienist at Kubozuka Dental Clinic near Mikage Bridge. She had invited me to go
there once or twice, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of lying there defenseless with various rods and pipes being
stuck in my open mouth; furthermore, I couldn’t shake the mental image of Hanuki wielding a bloody naginata to
scrape plaque off my teeth.
 Ozu and I had debated the nature of the relationship between Hanuki and Master Higuchi many times before.
There were signs that Hanuki was Master Higuchi’s girlfriend, but we couldn’t tell for sure. Neither was she his
disciple, and of course there was no way she was his wife. It was quite a mystery.
Hanuki was the same age as Master Higuchi, and also seemed to be an old acquaintance of Jōgasaki’s.
Jōgasaki often went to her clinic for checkups as well, so they had crossed paths many times over the years.
It wasn’t really clear what had gone down between the three, but what was certain was that that Hanuki knew
what had happened to cause the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War between Jōgasaki and Master Higuchi. Ozu and I
had once schemed to get her drunk so we could ask the particulars, but she had turned the tables on us. After
that we never tried to ask her anything again.

　　　　　　　○

Eating things that you can’t see is feels weirder than one might expect. Adding to my unease was Ozu, whose
person is malice crystallized into its purest form.
We started eating after the hotpot was cooked through, but each successive bite of food (at least, what I
hoped was food) was an uphill battle.
“Ew, what’s this mushy thing?” Hanuki shrieked as she flung whatever it was my way, causing me to cry out in
surprise as it hit me square on the forehead. I threw it back towards where I thought Ozu was sitting, and was
rewarded with a yelp for my troubles. Afterwards, we realized that it was actually just a limp noodle, though in the
dark it seemed more like a long, thin worm.
“What’s this? An alien umbilical cord?” Ozu pondered.
“You put it in, didn’t you? You eat it.”
“I refuse.”
“Gentlemen, you mustn’t play with your food,” Master Higuchi commanded like a father scolding his children,
shaming us into silence.
After a little while, Ozu suddenly squealed, “What’s this!? It feels like a mushroom!”
Apparently he had stumbled upon one of my shiitake traps. I snickered and pulled up something that looked
like a thumb-sized demon. My heart almost stopped, but upon further inspection I realized that it was just a firefly
squid.
As we progressed to the third course, I noticed that for some reason the food had gotten suspiciously sweet,
in addition to letting off a faint odor of beer.
“Ozu, you bastard. You put in red bean paste, didn’t you?” I shouted.
He giggled gleefully, adding “But the beer is from Hanuki, isn’t it?”
“Hehe, you could tell it was me? But it deepens the flavor, don’t you think?”
“It’s already so deep I can’t tell what’s what anymore,” I complained.
“It’s almost like one of those underwater canyons,” Hanuki laughed.
“I just want to let everyone know that it wasn’t me who put the marshmallows in,” Ozu said quietly.
I chewed on a red bean-flavored shrimp, and then bit into a marshmallow-coated piece of cabbage. I peeked
at Master Higuchi, who was sitting beside me; he seemed to be in his element, perfectly happy to munch on
whatever came his way.
 I started telling the story of how Akashi had derailed the Kaori kidnapping. Hanuki cackled.
“Akashi was right, kidnapping Kaori would be way too mean.”
Ozu spoke up, sounding hurt.
“Think about all the perfect planning I put into that. Plus, Jōgasaki dyed the Master’s yukata pink. Wasn’t that
pretty mean too?”
“But you have to admit, it was pretty funny. Jōgasaki is such a joker.”
Ozu sank into astonished silence, becoming one with the darkness. At his best he already blended into the
shadows, but now it was impossible to even pick out his silhouette.
“You’ve known each other for so long, too,” Hanuki mused. “Kicking him out of the circle was definitely
overkill. That was your doing, wasn’t it, Ozu?”
She looked pointedly in his direction, but he just sat invisibly in the shadows and didn’t respond.
“Jōgasaki couldn’t fool around in the circle forever,” the Master declared. “He’s too old for such childish
pastimes.”
Hanuki snorted. “Sure, like you’d know.”
At this point we were all stuffed from eating all manner of unknown things, so we turned from eating to
discussing various matters. Hanuki continued to chug down beer after beer, while Ozu was still in a foul mood
and refused to speak.
“Ozu, why aren’t you saying anything?” The Master sounded puzzled. “Are you still here?”
Seeing that Ozu maintained his stony silence, Hanuki said gaily, “If he’s not here, then let’s talk about his
girlfriend!”
“Ozu has a girlfriend?” I quivered with rage.
“They’ve been going out for like two years. She’s in one of his circles, and she sounds like a really sweet,
polite girl, but I’ve never actually seen her. Ozu called me for advice once because he thought she was going to
dump him, and he cried to me over the phone the entire night…”
“That’s a lie, that’s a filthy lie!” From the darkness Ozu suddenly started screeching in protest.
“Ah, there you are,” the Master said delightedly.
“Well? How are things with her now?” Hanuki asked.
“I invoke my right to remain silent,” said the voice from the shadows.
“What was her name?” inquired the Master.
Hanuki thought for a moment. “I think it was, like, Hiko—”
But there Ozu started protesting again, yelling “I invoke my right to remain silent!” and “I want a lawyer!”.
Hanuki just laughed and left off the rest of her sentence.
“How could you flirt with her behind my back, you lecherous bastard?” I asked indignantly, but he just
innocently replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
While I glared in his direction, the Master continued to forage in the pot.
“Oh my,” came his muffled voice from beside me. “This is pretty big. And kind of springy, too.” There was note
of skepticism in his voice, but he tried to take a bite anyway.
“This isn’t food,” he murmured. “Putting inedibles in the pot is against the rules, is it not?”
“Shall I turn on the lights?”
I stood up and flipped the light switch. Ozu’s jaw dropped, as did Hanuki’s. A cute plush teddy bear sat on the
Master’s plate, drenched in broth.
 “What an adorable teddy bear!” Hanuki exclaimed.
“Who put this in?” the Master inquired. “It’s obviously completely inedible.”
However, neither Ozu or I or Hanuki had any knowledge of it. No one suspected Ozu because it was clear
that he would never think to use something that pure and chaste for his evil schemes.
“I’ll take it,” Hanuki declared, and she went to wash it carefully in the sink.

　　　　　　　○

Hanuki is a delightful person, but a pain to deal with when she drank too much. Her face would get paler and
paler, her eyes would glaze over, and she would slowly, deliberately start to lick your face. Admittedly, running
away with Ozu from Hanuki as she tried to pin us to the wall was rather exciting. Of course, as a gentleman it
wouldn’t be proper to get too excited over something as paltry as getting my face licked by a woman, though
Master Higuchi seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing. Afterwards Hanuki invited me to sleep beside
her, promising to give me an entire castella that she had received from her boss at the dental clinic, but I firmly
refused.
Eventually Ozu’s dirty visage dozed off into dirtier dreams, and even Hanuki calmed down and began to nod
off.
“I am going on a journey,” the Master said in a sing-song voice. He hadn’t drunk very much himself, but by
some mysterious mechanism, the more Hanuki drank, the more intoxicated he became.
“Where are you going?” Hanuki asked, raising her bleary face.
“For now, I intend to circumnavigate the world, though I don’t know how many years it will take. Will you go
with me, Hanuki? I could use someone who can speak English.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s absurd.”
“How’s your English, Master?” I inquired.
“I won’t be fooled into learning that language so easily.”
“But what’re you gonna do about, you know...” said Hanuki.
“Not to worry, I have made preparations. Speaking of which, it’s already past twelve. I must go eat at Neko
Ramen.”
“Should we wake Ozu?”
The Master shook his head.
“Leave him be, the three of us will suffice.”
He winked. “We’re going to meet Jōgasaki.”

　　　　　　　○

Master Higuchi strolled leisurely through the shadows of Mikage Street in front of Shimogamo Shrine. It was
completely deserted at this hour, with only the rustling of Tadasu Forest and the occasional car passing along
Shimogamo Boulevard to break the silence. I quietly followed the Master, while Hanuki stumbled along behind
us, though she seemed to have finally sobered up.
 “Now, my good fellow,” Master Higuchi said with his eggplant-shaped face crinkled into a grin, “I am going to
make you my proxy.”
“Proxy for what?” I asked, startled.
The master chuckled. “Ready yourself.”
“Why aren’t you picking Ozu?”
“Ozu has his own part to play.”
It is rumored that Neko Ramen makes its broth out of cats, but whether that is true or not the taste is
unparalleled. I was still full from the hotpot, but at the thought of Neko Ramen I decided I could eat one more
bowl.
The Neko Ramen cart stood alone in the darkness, a solitary light bulb illuminating the welcome sight of warm
steam rising into the cold air.. The Master sniffed in anticipation and pointed at the cart with his chin. There was
already a customer sitting on a folding stool and talking to the shopkeeper.
As we approached, the shopkeeper glanced up and greeted us with a casual “Yo.” The customer straightened
up and looked around at us, his finely chiseled features illuminated by the orange light.
“You’re late, dude,” called Jōgasaki.
“My apologies.”
“Jōgasaki, it’s been so long! How’ve you been?” Hanuki nodded towards him.
“Hey, never better, know what I mean?” He flashed a gleaming white smile.
We sat down at the counter, but space was somewhat limited, and I ended up being squeezed off to the side.
What exactly was this gathering all about? I’d never seen Master Higuchi and Jōgasaki together in one place, so
this had to be for something important.
Thus, the curtains rose on the Higuchi-Jōgasaki Reconciliation Negotiations.
“Well, I think it’s about time we ended this,” said Master Higuchi.
“Sounds good, dude,” agreed Jōgasaki.
Thus, the Higuchi-Jōgasaki Reconciliation Negotiations came to a conclusion.

　　　　　　　○

“It lasted for a while this time, huh?” the shopkeeper commented. “Had to be what, at least five years?”
“I don’t remember, dude,” Jōgasaki shrugged.
“Almost exactly five years, I think. Our predecessors had their negotiations around this time of year,” Master
Higuchi conjectured.
“Ah, gotcha. Five years exactly then,” the shopkeeper nodded. “What happened to those guys?”
“My predecessor got a job at a courthouse in Nagasaki, since that was his hometown.”
“And yours, Jōgasaki?”
“Who knows. He was pretty all over the place so I have no clue,” Jōgasaki said. “I haven’t talked to him since
he dropped out.”
“I feel like he was a lot more like Higuchi, disconnected from reality, you know? I wonder why he ended up
being your Master?” Hanuki said.
“Beats me. I guess it just happened that way,” said Jōgasaki with a wry chuckle.
 Meanwhile, the shopkeeper served up the ramen. While they continued to converse familiarly among
themselves, I quietly slurped my ramen on the other side of the mosquito net, astounded that they were all so
friendly with the shopkeeper.
“That guy?” Jōgasaki suddenly said, looking in my direction.
“Mm. He’s my proxy,” the Master said, proudly clapping my shoulder. “Is yours not coming tonight?”
“That dumbass, he said he couldn’t come because he had a promise to keep.”
“I see…”
A smirk rose to Jōgasaki’s lips. “He’s one loose cannon, you know. I have no doubt he’ll be a sick proxy; your
dude had better be ready.”
“I look forward to seeing it.”
“Hey, I’ll make sure to bring him to the duel, all right?”
Behind the clouds of steam the shopkeeper laughed. “So you’re actually going to duel?”
“Naturally. The Duel on the Great Kamo Bridge is tradition, after all,” said the Master.

　　　　　　　○

After the amicable conclusion of this puzzling conversation, Jōgasaki gallantly rode off on his bicycle. Master
Higuchi yawned loudly and said, “I suppose it’s time for us to to kick Ozu awake from his beauty sleep.”
“Master, I don’t understand what’s going on,” I said. “What’s a proxy?”
I’ll explain it to you tomorrow, I’m too tired tonight.”
And he set off back towards Shimogamo Yūsuisō.
I was tasked with taking Hanuki back to her apartment on Kawabata Street. She was still softly cuddling the
teddy bear from the hotpot as she walked along the dark road, looking less like a military commander than a
lonely, preoccupied girl.
As we walked along silent Mikage Street, I turned my mind over the events of the past few hours.
“Jōgasaki’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” I said.
Hanuki snickered.
“He’s not that different from Higuchi, you know.”
“Really? He doesn’t really seem like the type to engage in a prank war with the Master…”
“He actually enjoys it a lot, he just doesn’t show it.”
“That sounds kind of hard to believe.”
“Actually, he’s never really had any friends besides Higuchi.”
She fell silent and squashed the teddy bear to her body. Its mournful eyes stared blankly at me.
At last we approached the Takano River. Mikage Bridge is a snug, round sort of bridge from which you can
see Daimonji mountain to the east. Whenever the Bon festival comes around, the bridge is packed with people
who come to see the Daimonji bonfire. Incidentally, I have yet to see any of the Okuribi bonfires.
Hanuki still hadn’t said another word, and I couldn’t shake off the ominous feeling that this was the calm
before the storm. It was like some foul creature had built a nest inside her and was finally about to come
wriggling out. Her face was pale, as if she were thinking extremely hard, and her lips were pressed together,
though trembling slightly. She looked like she was about to come to some sort of life-changing decision.
 “Are you not feeling well, Hanuki?” I inquired timidly.
She smiled.
“Hehe, you noticed?”
She suddenly grabbed the guardrail on the bridge and nonchalantly, elegantly loosed a smooth stream of
vomit. Her eyes followed the ramen she had just eaten with great interest as it floated down towards the river.
In that moment of weakness Hanuki let go of the teddy bear, and it rolled off the guardrail. She cried out and
started to climb onto the guardrail; with what little strength I possessed in my frail body, it was all I could do to
hold her back and keep us both from following both bear and ramen off the bridge. The little teddy bear sadly
tumbled over and over like it was in a revolving store display as it fell, making one last appeal before it finally hit
the surface of the river with a faint plop.
“Ahhh, it’s gone,” she sighed sadly, letting her chin rest on the guardrail. “I wonder where he’s drifting off to,”
she said in a sing-songy sort of voice.
“From here it’ll go towards the Kamo Delta, and then into Kamo River, and then into the Yodo River, and then
finally into Osaka Bay,” I explained kindly.
She snorted and stood up. “Fine, go where you please!” she shouted melodramatically, inadvertently spraying
spit everywhere.
I felt sorry for the teddy bear.

　　　　　　　○

After escorting her to her apartment I returned to Shimogamo Yūsuisō. As I turned down the hall I saw what I
thought was a filthy, loathsome beast sitting in front of my door, but it turned out to be Ozu.
“Go back to your own place!” I snapped, but he replied, “Don’t be so heartless” and barged into my room,
collapsing onto the floor like a cadaver.
“You guys abandoned me...where’d you all run off to?”
“Neko Ramen.”
“No fair! I was lonely, so lonely I thought I’d disappear.”
“Nobody’s stopping you.”
He blubbered on for a while, but eventually grew tired of it and went to sleep. I tried to push him off to one of
the dusty corners of the room, but he mumbled something and refused to budge.
For my part, I crawled into my futon and fell deep into thought. I’d become the Master’s successor, but what
exactly was this Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War business about? What was the history between Master Higuchi
and Jōgasaki? What did tomorrow’s duel on the Great Kamo Bridge involve? Did the shopkeeper from Neko
Ramen have anything to do with it? Was I going to be forced to continue this battle of pranks with Jōgasaki’s
successor? Was there any way out of this? What kind of person was Jōgasaki’s successor? What was I going to
do if he was the type of person that beat the weak, groveled to the strong, was selfish and lazy and a complete
demon, neglected his studies, lacked any shred of pride and gorged himself three times a day on other people’s
unhappiness?
I got up and listened to Ozu’s breathing.
 A terrible, bitter premonition spread bitterly through my chest; it was so apparent that there was no way I
could possibly deny it. I was so dissatisfied with my present situation that I had gone to the trouble of consulting
the fortune teller in Kiyamachi, so how had this happened? Wasn’t I was supposed to grab hold of an opportunity
and escape into a better life? And yet, I was breaching the event horizon of a lightless black hole from which
there was no hope for escape.
Ozu turned over as I lay there in torment, an irritatingly peaceful expression on his face.

　　　　　　　○

The next day, I kicked a still half-asleep Ozu into the hallway, and left for campus.
Unable to stop thinking about the duel on the Great Kamo Bridge that would take place later that evening, I
rushed through the lab experiment I was conducting, and hurried back to Shimogamo Yūsuisō. I went to call on
Master Higuchi, but the blackboard that hung on his door said “BATHING”. No doubt he was cleansing himself in
preparation for the duel which lay ahead.
I returned to my own room and listened to the burbling sounds of the coffeemaker, while staring at the castella
that Hanuki had given me the previous night. In retrospect, it was really quite cruel of her. Eating an entire
castella by oneself is a truly dismal task, entirely unbefitting a proper human being. It would be far more pleasant
to take it at teatime with agreeable company, and quite unexpectedly I found myself thinking about Akashi. Now
that I had been selected as the unhappy successor of this bizarre Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War, and forcibly
placed before the door of an even unhappier future, allowing myself to indulge in these fantasies was one of the
few escapes I had left. I am not unaware of my shame.
Above my head, a large moth that had gotten in fluttered around the fluorescent light. I remembered that
Akashi hated moths, prompting me to idiotically relive the sweet memory of the two of us tumbling down the
stairs. I cut up the castella with a fruit knife and stuffed my cheeks with slice after slice, groaning to myself. Just
as I was about to reach for my collection of erotica to tame my vulgar urges, a knock came at my door.
As soon as I opened the door, Akashi let out a shriek and leaped backwards. At first I thought my carnal urges
had set my face aflame with passion, but I realized that she was staring in terror at the moth flitting behind me. I
carefully drove the moth out and courteously showed Akashi inside.
“Master Higuchi called me to inform you he’ll come at dusk. It doesn’t look like he’s in his room,” she told me.
I briefed her on the reconciliation negotiations that had occurred last night between Master Higuchi and
Jōgasaki.
“Things really got moving while I was busy with the report, huh? I suppose I’ve failed as a disciple,” she
sighed
“Don’t worry about it, it all happened so suddenly.”
I poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. She took a sip and said, “I brought something for you.” From
her bag she produced a vaguely familiar paulownia box, opening it to reveal the fabled kamenoko brush that we
had searched for quietly nestled inside. “Now the Master won’t expel you, right?” I was moved to tears by
dedication.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” I sniffed.
“It’s fine,” she replied.
 “Well...would you like some castella?” I offered. She accepted a slice and took a bite.
“I really do feel awful for having you help me out like this, especially when you were busy with the report...”
“Yes, I just barely completed it on time.”
“What kind of report is it? You’re in engineering, aren’t you?”
“I’m in the structural engineering department. The report was on the history of architecture.”
“History of architecture?”
“Yes. I wrote about Roman architecture, like the temples, and the Colosseum…”
Colosseum.
At that moment, a knock came at the door, and Master Higuchi’s voice floated through the air.
“My good fellow, it is time for the duel.”

　　　　　　　○

The Master’s face was still slick from his bath, albeit covered with the usual carpet of stubble. “I was just in
the bathhouse with Ozu,” he said.
“Where did he go?”
“He went to Jōgasaki’s place. It seems that he is actually Jōgasaki’s disciple. What an interesting fellow, ” he
cackled, pulling his arms into his sleeves. “He was also the one who dyed my yukata pink.”
Of course, I’m sure that most of my readers figured this out already.
Ozu began to wriggle his way into Jōgasaki’s confidences last fall, after Jōgasaki was kicked out of the circle.
He listened to Jōgasaki’s complaints, sympathetically cursing the wretch who had overthrown him; never mind
that the sneak who had masterminded the coup was Ozu himself. Thus Ozu wormed his way into Jōgasaki’s
heart and secured his place as a trusted confidant. Each day they became more tightly intertwined, and as soon
as Jōgasaki learned that Ozu was Master Higuchi’s disciple, he asked him to become a spy, a request to which
Ozu simperingly acquiesced.
Through these convoluted machinations, Ozu’s nefarious designs began to unfold.
Under Master Higuchi’s orders, Ozu dumped an assorted jumbo bag of bugs into Jōgasaki’s mailbox;
conversely, under Jōgasaki’s orders, he dyed the Master’s yukata pink, and thus dashing to and fro he lived the
convoluted life of a double agent. Obviously, Ozu was the only one putting any real effort into this. It’s hard to say
what he meant to gain by throwing all his energy into walking such a perilous tightrope. It certainly was an
enigma, but one that is probably best left unsolved.
“I realized that he was Jōgasaki’s spy, but it was amusing, so I left him alone,” the Master chortled.
“So basically, everything was his doing,” I said. “And the two of you were dancing in the palm of his hand.”
“I have to admit, I’m impressed with him,” said Akashi.
“Yes, quite,” the Master said, not missing a beat. “What an incorrigible fool. In the history of the Masochistic
Proxy-Proxy War, there has never been such a feat. His name will surely go down in history. Ah, a castella.”
Without even waiting for an invitation he scarfed down a slice. In high spirits, he announced, “Well then,
tonight is the Duel on the Great Kamo Bridge.”
“Master, hold on a second.”
He nodded knowingly.
 “You want to know the details, I suppose. It is time to explain the origins of the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War.”

　　　　　　　○

What is the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War?

This inconsequential, yet noble conflict can be traced back to before the Pacific War.
Some say that it started from a high school love rivalry; others, from a nigori sake drinking contest. Whichever
it is, the details have been lost to history.
The original battle dragged on over a long period, as both participants were still in school and fought
incessantly. It went on so long that even as graduation season approached, no conclusion was in sight. The
warring parties, whose names have been lost over the years, had already given up on solving the problem
before they graduated. The obvious solution would be to make peace, but the obstinate pair spurned the thought
of reconciliation. Yet they were both so tired of it that they didn’t want to go on fighting either, and their pride
would not allow them to let it go unresolved. The surprise solution they eventually came up with was to force two
underclassmen to fight in their place as proxies.
And that was how the long, unbroken history of the campus-wide war began.
Though nobody knows how the war was fought back then, it’s clear that even then the unwritten rules of
engagement consisted of pulling off petty pranks. There need not be any enmity between the two participants;
the only rule is that they must fight. The new proxies simply continued to fight without ending the war, just as
their predecessors had; they didn’t know whether or not they should end the war. Eventually they handed over
the reins to a new set of proxies, postponing the end even further.
As the Pacific War ended in defeat, as Japan was rebuilt during the post-war reconstruction period, as college
campuses were enveloped with violent student protests, the proxy war raged on without any concern for the
goings-on in the world at large. The reason for the war was completely forgotten, and only the form was passed
on, and over many years and repetitions, a set of traditions developed to regulate the actions of the participants.
In the latter half of the ‘80s, the Neko Ramen cart became the designated location for the negotiations and
inheritance ceremony. After the combatants fought the closing duel on the Great Kamo Bridge, they would hand
over the reins to their proxies. The new proxies would then carry on their own battle as long as they could, and
then elect those they judged to have promise as new proxies of their own to succeed them.
That day, Ozu became Jōgasaki’s proxy, and I, Master Higuchi’s.
Since the war was based on proxies harassing each other, it had come to be known as the Masochistic
Proxy-Proxy War. To be precise, it was actually the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-
Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-
Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-Proxy-War, as Ozu and I were combatants of the thirtieth incarnation of the war.
Master Higuchi and Jōgasaki just happened to be chosen as the twenty-ninth proxies. There wasn’t actually
any bad blood between them. Either every proxy had disliked the idea of ending the tradition, or they simply just
didn’t know how to end the war.
In other words, this war was utterly meaningless.

　　　　　　　○
 “Is this a joke?”
“If you don’t become my proxy, then Jōgasaki and I will never be reconciled. Ozu is such an ornery fellow that
I’m sure it’ll be worth your while.”
You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Master Higuchi suddenly fell prostrate to the ground before me.
I hardly thought this was a tradition worth all this effort to protect, but seeing him beg me like this, I couldn’t
say no. I wanted to cry, knowing that a rosy student life was once again slipping out of my reach.
“Fine,” I muttered. The Master raised his head and nodded, looking pleased.
“Akashi, will you be the witness? I need you to ensure that both of them fulfill their duties honorably, and keep
the peace if things get out of hand.”
“I understand,” she curtly nodded.
There was no turning back.
The Master let out a sigh of relief and slumped to the ground. “Now I have no regrets,” he murmured to
himself. He produced another cigar and lit it up. Having been forced to take up the mantle of this meaningless
war and throwing away any chance of grabbing whatever opportunity would come my way, I began to mull over
what lay before me in this worthless, decades-old conflict, when I noticed Akashi poking me insistently. She
pointed at the box containing the kamenoko brush.
“Master, I have the kamenoko brush. Akashi managed to obtain it for me.”
As I presented him with the brush, the Master’s eyes widened in astonishment and he gave a little gasp, but
after getting over his initial shock he looked apologetic.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll be leaving after the duel is over.”
Akashi gasped in shock.
“So you really are going to go circumnavigate the world? It still sounds crazy to me,” I said.
But he just shook his head.
“It was for that sole purpose that I decided on a proxy. I won’t be going back to that 4½-tatami room for a
while. Can I ask you to clean it up for me?”
“Self-centered to the last, I see.”
“I suppose so,” he chuckled.“Look at the time; we need to get to the Great Kamo Bridge. It’s my last battle
with Jōgasaki, after all.”
As we were about to leave the room, Hanuki came rushing in, completely out of breath. “Oh good, I made
it…” she wheezed. “I ran here as soon as I got off work.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming to watch.”
“I want to see it with my own eyes, though it’s a pretty pointless sort of battle.”
And so we set off for the Great Kamo Bridge.

　　　　　　　○

As we reached the east end of the Great Kamo Bridge. Master Higuchi rolled up the sleeve of his yukata and
consulted an old-fashioned wristwatch.
 The afternoon had already given way to indigo twilight, and the Kamo Delta was already buzzing with
merrymaking students. It was probably a welcoming banquet for incoming freshmen. Come to think of it, I had
not been to gatherings like that for the past two years.
The roaring Kamo River was swollen from the recent rains, its surface gilded with silver from the streetlights
that were beginning to flicker on one by one. As the day ended, Imadegawa Street came alive, and the Great
Kamo Bridge was packed with cars, white and red lights glittering in the falling darkness. The orange lights that
dotted the thick guardrail on the bridge shone dimly, mysteriously through the night. For some reason, tonight the
bridge looked awfully wide.
“Ah, here they are,” the Master said, sounding pleased, and started walking towards the center of the bridge.
From the other side of the bridge, I could see Jōgasaki walking towards us, with Ozu at his side.
The two parties glared at each other all the way, meeting at the exact center of the bridge. Below us, the
raging river threw up white sheets of spray. To the south, beyond the black expanse of water, the distant lights of
Shijō district glittered like precious gems.
“Well, if it isn’t Akashi?” Jōgasaki said, looking surprised.
“Good evening,” she nodded back.
“You know Higuchi?”
“I became his disciple last fall.”
“She’s just an observer today. This is the proxy, whom you met yesterday,” the Master said, pointing at me.
“By the way, isn’t your proxy over there my own disciple, Ozu?”
Jōgasaki’s smirked.
“You thought he was your man, didn’t you? But he was actually my spy the entire time! Shocking, right dude?”
“You got me,” the Master smiled ruefully.
“Alright then.”
“Let’s do it.”
The air suddenly became incredibly tense.
As we looked on, Jōgasaki and Master Higuchi locked glares with each other. Under the glow of the lamps on
the bridge, Jōgasaki’s chiseled features could have belonged to one of the Four Hitokiri of the Bakumatsu. Ozu
stood beside him, his gloomy grin only adding to the effect. Meeting the enemy was Master Higuchi, his
eggplant-shaped face looking as stern as it could. As he stood there haughtily, his arms nobly folded across the
front of his deep blue yukata, I could feel an ineffable vigor radiating from him. The two opponents looked like
mighty rivals, arrayed against each other in an epic showdown.
What sort of battle was it going to be? We waited there with bated breath, awaiting the next development.
At last, Hanuki walked between them and chopped the air with her hand, as if cutting an invisible string that
linked the two.
“Okay, get it over with already.”
For a duel that was going to end five years of conflict, that sure was a disappointing introduction.
Jōgasaki bent his knees while Ozu hastily scurried to the rear. Akashi and I followed suit. Master Higuchi
stood completely motionless. Jōgasaki pushed his left palm in front of him towards the sky, while his right hand
was in a fist at the side of his waist, as if he were about to leap towards Master Higuchi. In response, the Master
unfolded his arms and made strange, esoteric signs with his hands as if he were chanting mantras.
“Let’s go, Higuchi,” Jōgasaki snarled.
 “Indeed,” replied the Master.
For a moment, everyone stopped breathing. Then, the two of them suddenly sprang into action.
“Rock, paper –”
“Scissors!”
Jōgasaki dramatically crashed to the ground.
“All right, we have a winner!” Hanuki started applauding by herself; Akashi joined in a beat or two after. I was
too dumbfounded to move.
“I won, so you’ll be the one to make the first strike,” the Master told me.
The Duel on the Great Kamo Bridge was nothing more than a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide which
proxy would strike first.

　　　　　　　○

“Well, well, that’s a burden off my shoulders,” the Master sighed, looking up into the evening skies with his
arms crossed in his usual unflappable manner. Jōgasaki stood up as if nothing had happened, a nonchalant
expression on his face. Master Higuchi took out a cigar and offered it to him.
Jōgasaki took a puff and asked, “Alright Higuchi, what are you gonna do now? You’re the one that wanted to
put an end to it.”
“I will fly off into the world.”
“Hey, Hanuki, Higuchi’s spouting psychobabble again.”
“Don’t mind him, he’s just an idiot,” Hanuki replied. “Want to go drinking?”
During this exchange, the Master abruptly smiled and leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Now, in all likelihood I will never see you again.”
“Huh?”
“So I’m going to give you my globe.”
“Give me—wait, it was my globe in the first place!”
“Was it really?”
So he really intended to disappear off somewhere.
As I tried to find the words to answer him, screams rose up from the Kamo Delta to the north. The students at
the party were in an uproar, running this way and that. Leaning over the handrail to look, I could make out what
looked like a dark cloud stretching from the Aoi Park forest to the delta. It buzzed loudly as it grew larger,
enveloping the entire delta. The people inside the cloud ran around frantically flapping their arms and batting at
their heads. We gazed at the scene, mesmerized, as the dark cloud began to creep over the surface of the water
towards us.
The noise from the delta began to become even more tumultuous. The cloud kept pouring out of the pine
trees. It was an incredible sight. Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter went the squirming cloud as it rolled towards us
like a carpet, rising above the water, billowing over the handrail and burying the Great Kamo Bridge like an
avalanche.
“GYEEEEEEEEEEE” Akashi cartoonishly screamed.
It was a giant swarm of moths.
 　　　　　　　○

The next day the moth plague made the front page, though nobody knew where the moths had come from.
By tracing their route, it appeared that the swarm had originated in the Tadasu Forest, that is to say, Shimogamo
Shrine, but many questions were left unanswered. For instance, there was no explanation for why all the moths
in the forest would simultaneously decide to migrate. There was an alternative rumor going around that the
moths had actually come from the neighboring Izumigawa town, but that explanation was even more confusing.
It appeared that the neighborhood around my boarding house had been inundated with moths for a brief while as
well.
When I returned later that night, the corridor was littered with moth corpses. I had forgotten to lock my door,
so my room was carpeted with them as well, but I reverently gathered the corpses and buried them.

　　　　　　　○

As moths thrummed around me, filling the air with glittering scales and occasionally attempting to force their
way into my mouth, I fought my way through the swarm to Akashi and gallantly shielded her from the worst of it.
Being originally from the city, I had formerly never had to coexist with bugs, but after two years in the boarding
house, I had become intimately acquainted with all sorts of arthropods.
Even so, the sheer number of moths that night was utterly overwhelming. The drone of beating wings cut us
off from the outside world, as if it were not moths but a swarm of winged imps passing over the bridge. It was
nearly impossible to see anything. What little I could see through my squinted eyes was limited to the moths
dancing in the orange light of the streetlamps, and Akashi’s shining black hair. I couldn’t even spare a glance to
see how everyone else was faring.
After a while the swarm moved on, leaving only a few stragglers flitting here and there. Akashi’s face was
ashen as she frantically brushed herself off all over, shrieking, “Are they on me? Are they on me?” before
sprinting away away from the writhing moths still dotting the ground with frightening swiftness towards the east
end of the bridge and collapsing to the ground in the soft light of a café.
The carpet of moths slowly rolled down the river towards Shijō.
The others were looking around around the area, dazed. I did the same, glancing over the spots of orange
light dotting the bridge.
Master Higuchi was nowhere to be seen, almost as if he had been borne away by the swarm of moths. It was
a stage exit truly befitting our master. Mysteriously, Ozu was also missing; I suspected that he’d planned this
whole show from the start.
“Dude, Higuchi and Ozu are gone!” Jōgasaki said in amazement, still surveying the bridge.
“Fine, leave then,” said Hanuki to no one in particular, still holding on to the guardrail as the evening breeze
wafted by.

　　　　　　　○
 “I’m going to go drinking tonight,” Hanuki declared, with her hands on her hips. “Coming, Jōgasaki?”
“Sounds good,” he said with a slightly distant, almost lonely expression. “But that card Higuchi didn’t even say
goodbye. It would have been nice to have the closure, at least.”
“It’s been some time since it was just the two of us at the bar, huh?”
Hanuki came up to me and said, “Take care of Akashi, okay?”
The two of them departed, chatting about the nightlife in Kiyamachi.
I walked to Akashi, who was sitting down under the light of the café. “Are you alright?” I asked. “The Master’s
disappeared.”
She looked up at me, her face still quite pale.
“Would you like a cup of tea to calm down?” I was certainly not making a craven attempt to take advantage of
her fear of moths; I was simply concerned by the lack of color in her face. She nodded, and we went into the
café in front of us.
“I wonder what happened to Master Higuchi? Ozu’s gone missing too,” I said, taking a sip of coffee.
Looking at my perplexed expression, she suddenly stifled a giggle.
“He’s almost like a wizard, isn’t he? The way he just flew off into the sky and disappeared.” She took a sip.
“It’s just like him.”
“I wonder where he went,” I pondered. “I bet Ozu had something to do with it.”
As we drank, I was suddenly reminded of the Colosseum. Perhaps her saying the word back then had been
the chance I was waiting for. If I had been able to escape then and avoid being swept up by the Master into the
Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War, I surely would have been able to set foot upon a new path. Sighing loudly, I
bemoaned the loss of my rose-colored future to Akashi.
“I let it slip through my fingers…” I groaned. “And now nothing’s going to change.”
“No, no,” Akashi shook her head. “You’ve grabbed hold of that chance already, you just haven’t noticed it yet.”
As we sat there, the sound of an ambulance siren began to grow louder and louder. Just as we thought it
would pass us, it came to a stop on the west end of the Great Kamo Bridge, and the clatter of the paramedics
pierced through the café.
“I really must express my thanks for getting the kamenoko brush, by the way.”
I bowed my head gravely, and a smile floated to her still pale face.
“The Master ended up leaving anyway though. I’m just happy that it made you happy.”
I suddenly felt a rush of emotion that was improperly directed towards someone who was my apprentice.
Though it is quite beneath me to explain in great detail what exactly those feelings were, at a loss as to what I
should do with those feelings, I spluttered out a single line.
“Akashi, would you like to go to Neko Ramen with me?”

　　　　　　　○

To describe how the relationship between Akashi and I developed after that would deviate from the purpose of
this manuscript; consequently, I will refrain from recounting those events here. I am sure my readers would
rather not waste their time reading such contemptible stuff.
 There is nothing more boring than telling a story of requited love.

　　　　　　　○

Following that incident, Master Higuchi disappeared off the face of the earth. No one thought that he would
pull off such a dramatic escape, without even saying goodbye. I still don’t know if he ever set off on his trip
around the globe.
After his disappearance, it took Akashi, Hanuki, and myself half a month to unenthusiastically clean up room
210. The kamenoko brush proved to be an immense help, but nonetheless we were faced with a daunting task.
Hanuki excused herself early from cleaning duty; Akashi was so disgusted at the accumulated filth that she
pretended to have a panic attack in order to flee; and Ozu, who had come hobbling in on crutches to observe our
efforts, threw up all over the sink, making our task all the more arduous.
My bitterness towards being forced into discipleship by Master Higuchi reached a climax just before he
disappeared, but now that he was gone I felt that something was missing. Upon seeing the pins on the globe in
the Master’s room, marking the route of the Nautilus, I was so overcome with emotion that I felt an urge to nuzzle
the globe, but refrained; even I have my limits. I removed the pins one by one, wondering where Master Higuchi
was right now.
By the way, the fantastic kamenoko brush now resides in Akashi’s room. She has learned to use it quite
effectively.

　　　　　　　○

I later heard from Hanuki that Jōgasaki had left the lab, seeking to find work somewhere. I wonder what had
become of that silent beauty, Kaori, whom Ozu had endeavored to steal. I pray that she and Jōgasaki are
leading a blissful life together.
Hanuki continues to work at Kubozuka Dental Clinic. About two months after the Master disappeared I, went
in to have my teeth examined. My wisdom teeth had a few cavities, prompting Hanuki to quip, “Now aren’t you
glad you came?” Furthermore, I was bestowed with the honor of having her scrape the plaque off my teeth. To
her credit, despite the haughty look on her face, her touch was both gentle and precise: the mark of a true
professional.
Someone as roguish as me (mentally, anyway) could hardly imagine what she went through after the Master
left, but I’m sure she was very lonely. Thence whenever she invited me to go drinking, I, along with Ozu and
Akashi, always bravely took up her offer.
It was always a rough time.

　　　　　　　○
 Master Higuchi’s sole worldly concern, the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War, was handed over to Ozu and me. I
could not help but be filled with gloom whenever I thought about the unpleasant task of continuing this war until I
found a proxy.
At the duel on the Great Kamo Bridge, it had been decided that I would make the first strike. I took advantage
of Ozu’s hospitalization to repaint the bicycle he called “Dark Scorpion” bright pink. It was so well done that
afterwards you could hardly recognize it as the same bicycle.
When Ozu came out hobbling on his crutches and saw this, he was visibly ruffled, and huffily rode it off
towards Shimogamo Yūsuisō.
“This is outrageous, you can’t just paint it pink!”
“You dyed Master Higuchi’s yukata pink, though.”
“That’s completely different!”
“The hell it is!”
“I’m going to Akashi to file a complaint, I know she’ll understand!”
And so it went.

　　　　　　　○

It is true that after Master Higuchi absconded, a great many changes entered my life; however, I would be
vexed if that were to be interpreted as a vindication of my actions. I am not so naive as to so easily overlook the
mistakes of the past. On occasion, I would consider magnanimously embracing my past self. Perhaps things
would be different if I were a young lady, but who would want to embrace a disgusting twenty-something man
like myself? Driven by this indignation, I refuse to absolve my past self of these sins.
I couldn’t shake off the feeling that choosing to become a disciple in front of that fateful clock tower that day
had been a mistake. What if I had chosen a different path? If I had gone into Misogi movie circle, or chosen the
softball circle, or even entered the secret society, my past two years certainly would have been quite different. At
least, it is plain my life would not have been as twisted as it is now. Perhaps that ever elusive rosy student life
would have been in my grasp. I could not bring myself to deny that the past two years had been full of mistakes
and missed opportunities.
Above all, my unfortunate mistake of meeting Ozu would surely haunt me for the rest of my life.

　　　　　　　○

Immediately following the disappearance of Master Higuchi, Ozu was admitted to a hospital beside campus.
It was quite delightful to see him strapped down to the white hospital bed. Owing to his already ghoulish
complexion, it appeared as if he had contracted some incurable disease, though in reality it was merely a broken
bone. In fact, he was probably lucky to get off with just a fracture. I sat there gloating as he grumbled about his
inability to partake in any of his usual wicked habits, but whenever I got tired of his bleating I stuffed a slice of
castella in his mouth to shut him up.
Why did Ozu have a broken bone?
Let us return to that evening, when that swarm of moths overtook the bridge.
 　　　　　　　○

As moths thrummed around me, filling the air with glittering scales and occasionally attempting to force their
way into my mouth, I fought my way through the swarm to Akashi and gallantly shielded her from the worst of it.
On the other hand, though Ozu was completely covered in moths, that odd smile never left his face, and he
simply stood there waiting for things to subside. The only thing he seemed to be worried about was his hair
getting mussed.
At that moment, he saw Master Higuchi climb up on the guardrail of the bridge. Through the storm of insect
scales, Master Higuchi stood there with his arms outspread, as if he were about to take flight above the ancient
city. Ozu tried to shout “Master!” A few moths immediately flew into his mouth and smothered his cries, but he
walked up to the guardrail anyway and unthinkingly took hold of the Master’s yukata. Suddenly the Master
seemed to rise into the air, and Ozu felt himself being pulled up along with him. The Master looked down at him,
and though the air was flooded with the sound of beating wings, Ozu insisted that the Master said to him, “Ozu,
you show much promise.”
Considering it was Ozu saying this, I obviously didn’t believe a word.
After supposedly uttering those words, the Master slipped through Ozu’s fingers and disappeared.
Ozu immediately lost his balance and fell into the Kamo River, breaking his arm and being forced to cling to
one of the bridge supports like a discarded piece of trash until he was spotted by some cheerleaders from the
Kamo Delta.
The ambulance that Akashi and I had heard as we elegantly sipped coffee at the café had been called for
Ozu’s sake.

　　　　　　　○

That explained Ozu’s broken bone, but I wasn’t persuaded in the slightest by Ozu’s account of the Master’s
disappearance, and suspected that there was another side to this story.
“So you’re saying that the Master was borne off on his journey by that swarm of moths?”
“That’s right, there’s no other explanation.”
“Am I just supposed to take your word for it?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“You think I would believe that you would throw yourself at the Master to stop him?”
“The Master is very important to me,” he huffed indignantly.
“If you really cared for him that much, then why did you keep opportunistically switching loyalties between him
and Jōgasaki? What did you mean by that?” I said.

　　　　　　　○

His customary youkai-like grin floated to his face.

“It’s how I show my love!”
“I don’t need that nasty stuff,” I replied.
 Chapter 3
The 4½-Tatami Sugar-coated Life

In the two years before the spring of my junior year of college, I accomplished not a single thing of practical
use. Instead of building healthy relationships with the opposite sex, studying diligently, training my body, and
undertaking other activities directed towards becoming a productive member of society, I isolated myself from
women, abandoned my studies, and let my health fall to ruin. Yet, despite having struck out already, why is it that
I continued to labor away hoping for the pieces to fall into place?
I must inquire of the responsible party. Where is the culprit?
It is not that I have always been in this condition.
I was born pure as the driven snow and as charming as the infant Prince Genji; with nary an impure thought
in my head, my radiant smile spread the light of love across the hills and valleys of my hometown. I am doubtful
whether that is still the case today. Each time that I look in a mirror I fly into a rage, asking ‘Why have you
become like this? Is this the sum of your current existence?’
There are those who say that I am still young, and that people are things that may yet change.
How ridiculous.
It is said that the child is the father of the man. And with this year, another one will be added to my twenty, and
the end of my splendid quarter-century youth will soon approach. What outcome, then, would further clumsy
efforts to change my personality bring about? At this stage, if I attempt to twist something that has already set
and hardened, the most I’ll do is break it.
At this moment, I must pull myself upward into leading a respectable life. I must not avert my eyes from the
grim reality that lies before me.
And yet, somehow, it is unbearable to look.

　　　　　　　○

After two years of complete unproductivity, I became a third-year college student.

In late May, I was caught up in a dramatic King Lear-esque affair with three women. I will now tell all about
this sordid incident; however, keep in mind that this is neither a tragedy nor a comedy. If anyone cries upon
reading this tale, they are either needlessly sensitive, or have had a speck of curry powder inconveniently enter
one of their contact lenses. Contrariwise, those who read this account with tears of mirth I consider to be mortal
enemies, and I would chase them to the ends of the earth to exact my revenge, throwing them headfirst into a
hot spring to boil as if I were preparing a cup of instant ramen.
As long one is willing to learn, even the slightest, most trivial thing can impart wisdom—or so some famous
person probably once said, though I’m sure that you can apply that saying to this series of events.
I learned a great many things—too many to enumerate. If I had to pick two, they would be: one, don’t leave
decision making up to your Johnson; and two, don’t stand on the guardrail of the Great Kamo Bridge.
As for the rest, you can read between the lines.
 　　　　　　　○

It was the dead of night in late May.

I lived in a boarding house called Shimogamo Yūsuisō, which is located in Shimogamo Izumigawa. I had
heard that the place had burned down in the chaos at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, was rebuilt in exactly
the same fashion, and had not been renovated since. If it hadn’t been for the light leaking out of the windows,
one could be forgiven for mistaking it for an abandoned ruin. When I first visited this place during the co-op
association tour after orientation I thought I had wandered into Kowloon Walled City. Just looking at its crumbling
wooden frame was enough to induce anxiety, and it was probably dilapidated enough that it could be placed on
the list of Japan’s Important Cultural Properties. Yet, I doubt anyone would bat an eye if it were to burn down.
Even the landlord, who lives to the east, would most certainly be relieved.
I sat on the tatami mats of my domicile in room 110, glaring at the fluorescent light overhead which was dimly
flickering in and out. I knew that I needed to change it soon, but I just couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort.
As I was about to reach into my pornography collection, I was disturbed by a loud knocking on my door: my
despicable friend Ozu had come to visit, and any hopes I had had for some nice, quiet alone time were dashed.
Pretending to be out, I tried to concentrate on reading, but he continued to bark for me to open the door. He
never was one to show regard for anyone else..
Once I opened the door, I was met with Ozu’s usual devilish grin. “A moment of your time.” He said before he
turned back towards the corridor and continued, “This way, Miss Kaori. I do apologize for the mess.”
It was disgraceful for him to be slinking around Shimogamo Shrine at this hour with a female companion, no
doubt hoping to score. But even I had the sense to hide my porn in the presence of a lady.
As I hastily stuffed the materials back onto the shelf, Ozu came in, glancing askance at me. On his back he
was carrying a petite woman. Her beautiful hair swayed back and forth, but the sight of such a lovely woman
surrendering herself to a demon like Ozu was nothing short of criminal.
“What’s wrong, is she drunk?” I asked apprehensively.
“What are you talking about? She isn’t even a person,” was his baffling reply.
Ozu sat her down against my bookshelf. Judging from the sweat beading on his forehead, she seemed to be
fairly heavy. He rearranged her hair neatly, and her face came into view.
She was quite lovely, and her skin looked and felt as if it was real. Her hair was carefully groomed, and not an
article of clothing was out of place. She looked just like a well-to-do young lady, except that she didn’t move so
much as a muscle. It was as if she had been frozen in time, forever looking wistfully into the distance.
“This is Kaori,” Ozu announced.
“What is she?”
“A love doll, duh? I can’t leave her in my room, so I need you to take care of her for a while.”
“You barge into my room at two in the morning, and now you expect me to—”
“Now, now, it’ll only be for a week. She’s well behaved, I promise.”
He smirked again.
“And look, it’s all sunshine and flowers in here now. At least your gloomy little room will look a little brighter
with her here, won’t it?”
 　　　　　　　○

Ozu is a student the same year as I. Though he is a member of the electrical engineering department, he
hates electricity, electronics and engineering. His first-year grades were so borderline that I wondered if there
was any point to him being in university at all. He, however, wasn’t concerned in the slightest.
Because he despises vegetables and adheres strictly to a diet of fast food, he has the extremely eerie look
and complexion of someone from the far side of the moon. If encountered on the street late at night eight out of
ten people would mistake him for a youkai. The remaining two people were certainly youkai themselves.
Cruelly beating the weak, groveling to the strong, selfish, self-assured, lazy, a complete demon, neglecting
studies, lacking a shred of pride, feeding off the unhappiness of others he was able to eat three square meals a
day. There is not a single part of him that is praiseworthy. If I had never met him my soul surely would have been
cleaner for it.
Keeping that in mind, setting foot into the Honwaka softball circle in the spring of my freshman year was
mostly assuredly a mistake.

　　　　　　　○

At the time, I was still a sparkling freshman. The cherry trees had shed their flowers, clad now in an
invigorating verdant hue. Upon entering the university grounds, each first-year was immediately pressed with
club fliers, I with so many that they could not be processed by a single person. Among those sundry fliers, only
four caught my attention: Misogi Movie Circle, a mysterious call for disciples, Honwaka Softball Circle, and the
Lucky Cat Restaurant secret society. Each of these had its own air of suspicion, yet was its own doorway to a yet
unknown campus life. I was filled with inquisitiveness, thinking that no matter which I chose a fascinating future
lay ahead. The only reason I thought this was because I was a hopeless fool.
After lectures, I directed my steps towards the university clock tower. It seemed that many circles were
holding new member information sessions in that vicinity.
Around the base of the clock tower milled throngs of freshmen, their faces still blushing with springs of hope,
as well as crafty circle members, eager to prey on those same hopes. Thinking that among these countless
circles lay an entrance to the phantasmic illusion of the entrance to a rosy student life, I wandered around in a
lightheaded daze.
The first thing to catch my gaze was a group of students holding a billboard displaying “Misogi Movie Circle”.
However as I didn’t have the nerve to introduce myself I kept circling the clock tower. Suddenly, another group of
students holding a sign saying “Honwaka” came into view.
The Honwaka Softball Circle borrows a spot on the field to play softball every weekend. Practice is not
mandatory, and other than the occasional scheduled game, members are free to do as they please. The warm,
snuggly name and leisurely agenda immediately struck a chord with me; plus, there seemed to be a large
number of girls in the circle as well.
I did not play sports in high school, but neither did I participate in any cultural activities. I simply holed myself
up with a group of like-minded fellows, refraining from doing anything that required effort.
 “Getting some exercise might not be so bad,” I thought. Being in a serious athletic club might be too arduous
for me, but Honwaka was just a circle. Besides, I was more interested in friendly socializing, not chasing a little
white ball day in and day out, worrying about reaching the national championships. Farewell, gloomy high school
days; from here on out I would be breaking a refreshing sweat while making a hundred friends. With a little effort,
I would soon be conversing with fair maidens as easily as if we were tossing a ball back and forth. I was of
course interested in learning new skills, not conversing with girls, but if girls were attracted to me because of my
new skills, naturally I had no intention of refusing.
That’s right, don’t be shy, I silently cajoled, quivering with anticipation.
I repeat: I was a hopeless fool.
Thus, I entered Honwaka, and was made to realize how bitterly difficult “refreshing socializing” truly was. The
atmosphere was so much more unbearably pleasant than I had imagined that I was unable to grow accustomed
to it. It was so embarrassing I could hardly stand it. Though I attempted to blossom into a beautiful social
butterfly, it was hard enough just breaking into the cocoon of conversation in the first place. By the time I realized
that I had to be socially adept to add to the conversation, it was already too late, and soon I lost my place within
the circle.
How swiftly my dream was shattered.
However, I still had one kindred spirit within the circle.
His name was Ozu.

　　　　　　　○

Ozu began to complain about how hungry he was after carrying Kaori all this way. Suddenly overcome by an
irresistible craving for Neko Ramen, the two of us exited Shimogamo Yūsuisō and walked through the inky
darkness to the cart. Neko Ramen is a fabled ramen stand which is rumored to make its broth out of cats.
Regardless of fact or fiction, the taste is unparalleled.
While Ozu slurped his steaming ramen, he told me about the doll, Kaori, which he had stolen from her
owner’s apartment on his Master’s orders.
“You—isn’t that a crime?”
“Is it?” He shrugged.
“Obviously! I want no part of it.”
“But Kaori’s owner has been friends with the Master for at least five years. I’m sure he’ll understand. Plus,” he
added, with an indecent grin, “I know you want to try living with her, I can tell.”
“You asshole—”
“Don’t look at me with those eyes!”
“Oi, stop clinging to me.”
“But I’m lonely, and the night air is chilly.”
“You lonely bastard—”
“Kyaa!”
Whiling away the time quarreling like two lovers in front of the Neko Ramen cart soon began to feel
completely pointless. And for some reason, this scene seemed frustratingly familiar.
 “Hey, haven’t we had this conversation before?”
“No way, not something this dumb. It’s probably just déjà vu.”
As we continued to carry on our idiotic conversation, wavering between ecstasy and terror at the
incomparable flavor of Neko Ramen, a new customer came up beside us. I glanced at him and was immediately
taken aback by his very odd appearance.
Dressed in a dark blue yukata and tengu geta, he strangely resembled an ascetic hermit. Looking dubiously
at him from my bowl, I seemed to recall seeing this fellow many times in Shimogamo Yūsuisō: a figure retreating
up the creaking staircase; a profile out in the sunshine below the clotheslines getting his hair cut by some female
exchange student; a silhouette at the communal sinks washing some mysterious fruit. The hair on top of his
eggplant-shaped head was as disheveled as if a typhoon had blown through, and there was an easygoing look
in his eyes. It was difficult to tell how old he was; he resembled a middle-aged man, and yet he may just as well
have been a university student.
“Ah, Master, I didn’t realize you’d be here too.” Ozu bowed his head as he slurped his ramen.
“Yes, well, late night cravings must never be denied.”
The strange man sat down and ordered a bowl. So this was Ozu’s Master. Ozu paid for the Master’s ramen,
which was a rare sight considering how miserly he usually was.
“Jōgasaki has been dealt a serious blow with this move. He’d never imagine in a million years that he’d come
home from a café to find Kaori had run off on him.”
Ozu spoke with great conviction, but the Master frowned and lit a cigar.
“Akashi came by earlier to tell me that we were going too far.”
“Again?”
“She insisted that ‘trampling on someone’s emotions is not a joke’, even if they’re in love with a doll. I think
she’s even prepared to expel herself.” The Master scratched his scraggly beard.
“Huh, wouldn’t expect a tomboy like Akashi to be so soft-hearted. But you gotta put your foot down; you can’t
be soft on her just because she’s a girl.”
“It’s a little difficult to stomp my foot wearing geta like these...”
“But I already brought her back from Jōgasaki’s place. I refuse to take her back!”
“Then where will we leave her?”
“His room.” Ozu pointed at me. I silently bowed my head. The Master looked at me with a surprised
expression.
“Aren’t you a resident of Shimogamo Yūsuisō?”
“That’s right.”
“I see. Much obliged for the assistance.”

　　　　　　　○

We returned to Shimogamo Yūsuisō; Ozu left in the car that he had used to transport Kaori, while his Master
wordlessly bowed to me and ascended to the second floor.
When I returned to my room, the life-sized doll was still leaning against my bookshelf, dreamily gazing into the
distance.
 Ozu and the Master had been muttering to each other the entire way back, eventually deciding that since they
had already taken her, they would just lay low and see how things turned out. But, rather unreasonably, not once
did they bother to consult the actual person in whose room lay the doll. Ozu looked smug, as his opinion had
eventually prevailed, while the Master looked as if he had never harbored any doubt about the matter in the first
place. I had been outfoxed.
After Ozu and I left the Honwaka softball circle, we had continued to associate with each other. Though Ozu
had left one circle, he seemed to keep himself busy with all sorts of schemes. Whether it was as a member of a
mysterious secret society, or as a respected figure within the movie circle, he never seemed to run out of things
to do.
He also religiously visited the man he called “Master”, who lived on the second floor of Shimogamo Yūsuisō.
Ozu had been coming and going from that residence since our first year. The reason that this miserable
relationship between Ozu and I hadn’t already been severed was not only because we were always pushed into
the same dark corners of the circles we joined, but also because he was always visiting my boarding house.
Even when I inquired as to the nature of this Master, Ozu simply put on a loathsome, obscene grin and refused
to answer. I came to the conclusion that he was some sort of porn lord.
I sat on my 4½-tatami floor and stared at Kaori, who had abruptly become my new roommate. It was all quite
irritating, though I had to admit that she was a very charming doll.
“Kaori, I admit that it’s a little dirty, but do make yourself at home,” I said out loud. I had to admit that it was
stupid, even for me, so I laid out my futon and went to sleep.

　　　　　　　○

After the intrusion into my room by Kaori, the motionless beauty,, the wheels came off my previously tranquil
existence. In the space of only a few days, my life was tossed around by a series of bizarre vicissitudes as
though it were a toy boat bobbing around on a raging sea, eventually spitting me on out a new course to parts
unknown. It was all Ozu’s fault.
The next day, I opened my bleary eyes from atop my futon, and was taken aback by the sight of a prim-
looking woman sitting against my bookshelf.
A woman in my room—this was a shocking, unprecedented event.
Last night I must have been flirting with this proper young lady, and the sparks that flew between us had
resulted in her staying the night in my room, and this morning she had woken up earlier than me and the
memories of last night had all come flooding back, and so utterly distraught, she leaned back against the
bookshelf, too shocked to move, and now I would have to take responsibility, and after some heartfelt discussion
we would decide the right thing to do was to get married, and I would end up dropping out of school, and unable
to keep up with the bills we’d find ourselves in poverty, and unable to bear the ignominy she’d walk out me, and
utterly destitute I would die, broken and alone. A wild chain of events raced through my head like a revolving
lantern, as I sprawled on my futon trembling like a newborn fawn, thinking that I was completely screwed, until I
recalled the true events of the last night, and remembered that Kaori was just a doll.
The shock of this realization finally woke me up.
 Kaori had not moved an inch since last night. I greeted her with a “Good morning”, brewed coffee, and grilled
a leftover half-eaten fish patty for breakfast. As I ate, I unthinkingly began to converse with her.
“I know this can’t be easy for you either, Kaori. It must be hard for you to live in such a cramped, dirty room
with a...well, a guy like me. Ozu’s such a jerk, isn’t he? He’s never once in his life spared a thought for someone
else, and all he does is feed off other people’s misery. I guess his parents didn’t give him enough love during his
youth… You don’t say much, do you? It’s a shame, such a lovely morning as this and you’re just sitting there
sulking. Come on, I know you’ve got something to say.”
Of course, she didn’t say a word.
I finished the fish patty and gulped down my coffee. It was a glorious weekend morning, and I certainly wasn’t
going to spend the day shooting the breeze with a doll. I had my own life, after all. After a few days of rain the
sky had finally cleared up, and I had woken up early for once, so I decided to go out to do my laundry.
The laundromat was downtown, just a few minutes’ walk away from Shimogamo Yūsuisō. I dumped my
clothes into a machine and then walked out to buy a can of coffee. When I returned, the laundromat was still
empty, and only my usual machine on the left was running. Basking in the glorious morning sunbeams, I drank
the coffee and smoked a cigarette.
When my laundry was done, I lifted the lid of the machine and was met with an unpleasant surprise.
My favorite briefs were nowhere to be seen. In their place lay a small plush teddy bear. The bear and I glared
at each other for a few moments.
How bizarre.
I would have understood if it were women’s lingerie, but what was the point of stealing the grey briefs that
someone like me had worn for two steadfast years? The only thing that could possibly be gained from such a
deed was utter disappointment. Furthermore, the thief had left behind this cute teddy bear, further deepening the
mystery. What kind of message was the thief trying to send? It was probably a hidden confession of love. But I
don’t need the love of someone who would steal my underwear! I want love from someone who puts my head in
the clouds, someone whose daintiness and refinement are positively dream-like, a raven-haired maiden whose
mind is filled only with beautiful things.
I checked the other washing machines, and even the dryers, but my underwear was nowhere to be found. I
stamped my feet in frustration. It was stupid to consider reporting this to the police. I honestly didn’t want to
uncover the kind of person who would commit this sort of act.
I clutched the teddy bear and started making my way back home, partially because it would irk me to have to
go back empty-handed. Periodically I flared up in anger, but there was nothing I could do; I let out my rage by
squishing the bear between my fingers.

　　　　　　　○

After the theft at the laundromat, I furiously stomped back to my room, my face puffing out like a fish patty.
During the afternoon, the blazing sun turned my room into a sauna, but as it was not yet afternoon, it was still
cool. Kaori was still sitting by the bookshelf, patiently awaiting my return. Looking at her serene expression, I felt
my fury begin to evaporate. Ozu claimed to have stolen her from someone; I imagined that unlucky someone
must be frantically searching for her right about now. Based on her tidy appearance, he must have pampered her
like a princess.
It didn’t feel right, just having her sit there listlessly. I placed the copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the
Sea I had bought from the Shimogamo Shrine used book fair in her lap to draw out her hidden allure. Now she
looked as if she had borrowed a corner of my room to get lost in a fantasy of the high seas; a veritable
intellectual, raven-haired maiden.
No one would disturb this place, though then again no one would want to enter this room in the first place.
Kaori and I were alone here. No one was here to upbraid us if we decided to fool around a little. But I
courteously held back, silently commending myself for my incredible restraint. In the first place, she was here
because of Ozu, and I didn’t want to get caught trying anything funny and give him an excuse to gloat.
I sat at my desk and, trying to forget about the underwear thief, opened a letter I had received the previous
day. The author of this letter was a female.
Readers, do not be surprised that I was participating in an exchange of correspondence.
The young lady’s name was Higuchi Keiko, and she lived by herself in Jōdoji. She worked in the office of an
English conversation school in Shijō Kawaramachi. Her hobbies were reading and gardening; she wrote
enthusiastically about the flowers she grew on her veranda. Her handwriting was exquisite, her composition
impeccable.
However, I had never even met her.

　　　　　　　○

Though it was very old-fashioned, I loved writing letters, and had yearned since I was a youth to have a pen
pal. All the better if my partner was a young lady, though in truth, was there any other sentient life worth
corresponding with other than a flowering young maiden? Such was the purity of the correspondence I so
earnestly desired.
There are two rules one must abide by: one, the letters must be handwritten; and two, under no
circumstances must one meet one’s epistolary companion. This second point is paramount. It is of course
natural as a male to be overcome with the desire to meet the young lady you are corresponding with. But this is
exactly where you must practice restraint. If things go poorly, all the effort you put into cultivating this elegant
relationship will have been for naught.
The idea to begin an elegant exchange of letters came to me quite out of the blue. However, finding a young
lady I had never seen before to begin the correspondence with proved to be more difficult than I had expected.
Sending a letter to a random address and praying that a suitable girl happens to live there is an unrefined, even
degenerate act, and consulting the Kyoto branch of the Japan Correspondence Society would not fit my personal
aesthetic.
When I confessed my hidden desire to Ozu, he immediately branded me a pervert. “You’re just trying to get
off by sending some random girl nasty letters, aren’t you? You really need to make sure your pen is in check, you
literary exhibitionist!”
“I-I’d never do anything like—”
“Come on, I know you too well. You spend half the day trying to get off.”
 “Shut up!”
Quite unexpectedly, it was because of Ozu that I was able to begin my long-awaited correspondence.
In the autumn of sophomore year, Ozu, whose literary tastes extended no further than the discolored curtain
at the end of the adults-only section in a bookstore, gave me an altogether ordinary looking novel. He said he’d
picked it up from the hundred-yen box at a used-book store in Imadegawa, and now that he was done with the
grubby little volume he was dumping it on me.
The novel plodded through the travails of a stodgy, lovelorn student, and I was about to toss the dreary
volume aside when something caught my eye. Neatly written on the last page was an address and a name.
Normally, either the owner or someone at the bookstore would erase this sort of thing before the book was sold,
but it looked as if they had overlooked this one.
I realized that this was my chance. This had to be some kind of divine intervention. How else would I be
presented with a once-in-a-lifetime chance to begin a correspondence with an unseen maiden?
In retrospect, I didn’t have any evidence to suggest that she was a youthful demoiselle. This was to say
nothing of how I came to the conclusion that she loved books, was a little reserved, and furthermore how
beautiful she was. I suppose it would be fair to call me a pervert. But I have never been one to shy away from
such labels if the occasion calls for it.
I rushed out to the Demachi shopping arcade and bought stationery that was beautiful and sincere enough to
compensate for the shamelessness of my acts.
I had the good sense to realize that, since this letter would be coming completely out of the blue, I would do
well to limit its contents to harmless conversation. No doubt I would be reported to the police immediately if I
were to introduce myself by pouring out the innermost longings of my soul. I first apologized for sending such an
unexpected letter, humbly adding that I was a very diligent student, and that I had always dreamed about
engaging in a correspondence of letters. Then I gave my impressions of the novel I had just finished reading,
neither praising nor criticizing it, without even once mentioning anything about expecting a reply. An overly long
letter would seem suspicious, so after writing draft after draft I was able to condense it into a sheet and a half.
After completing it I read it over, and unable to detect even a hint of insincerity through the veneer of earnest
enthusiasm, I modestly congratulated myself for writing a masterpiece. In their most pure form, letters truly are
things that come from the heart.
In today’s wicked society, replying to a letter from an unknown sender requires a fair amount of caution, all
the more if you are a guileless young lady. I willed myself not to be disappointed if a reply never came, but to my
great delight one did.
Thus, from this almost suspiciously fortunate series of events, a correspondence that would span half a year
began. It would end in May, in utter heartbreak.
 　　　　　　　○

Dear Sir,

With the end of the Aoi Festival, the weather seems to have taken a humid turn. It feels as if we have
entered the dog days of summer, though the rainy season has yet to begin.
Since I am not fond of such sweltering conditions, I do hope the rain comes quickly. There are many
people who say that the rainy season is dreary and damp, but I find the reassuring patter of raindrops
outside rather soothing. My grandparents have a number of hydrangeas at their home, and since I was a
child I have always enjoyed whiling away the hours watching them bloom from the veranda.
On your recommendation, I have begun to read “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea”, and
have reached the third section. I had once thought it a children’s book, but it is quite a profound novel. I
find the aura of mystery around Captain Nemo quite intriguing, but if I had to say, my favorite character
is the harpoonist, Ned Land. I pity him, being locked up in the submarine without the freedom to move
around. The Professor and Conseil are subjected to the same conditions, but they seem to be enjoying
themselves; only Ned Land seems to be frustrated with the situation, and before long I found myself
rooting for him. Or perhaps, it is because I am as much a glutton as he.
If I might be so bold as to make a recommendation of my own, may I suggest R.L. Stevenson’s
“Treasure Island”? You may have already read it, but it was one of my favorites as a child.
My work has been quite ordinary, with nothing in particular to speak of.
Recently, a professor who lived here in Japan for three years returned to his home country, and his
farewell party was held at an Irish pub on Oike Street. I am currently not of age to drink alcohol, but the
Irish food they had was quite delicious. The fried fish in particular was very good.
The professor was from San Francisco, and he told us that if we ever went to that city we were
welcome to visit him. He is in his mid-thirties, but is apparently returning to college. I have always
dreamed of studying abroad, but with how busy I find myself presently, it does not seem that that will
come to pass.
I apologize if I overstep myself in saying this, but I feel that being able to study whatsoever you
please in college is a marvelous thing. I am certain one such as yourself will use the many opportunities
you are blessed with to better yourself. As you continue on and face further trials and tribulations in your
third year of college this spring, I encourage you to believe in yourself and do your best.
However, as your wellbeing is of utmost importance, please do not overexert yourself.
You said that you enjoy eating fish patties, but please ensure that you are eating a balanced diet, and
do take care of yourself properly.
On that note I shall bring this letter to a close. I humbly await your reply.

Yours Sincerely,
Higuchi Keiko

　　　　　　　○
 As the afternoon wore on, my room became progressively muggier. The hotter it became, the more irritated I
became, and my fury at the laundromat underwear thief boiled up again. From my corner of the room I stared at
Kaori, who was enthralled in her book, and squashed the plush bear which had been switched for my
underpants.
To get my mind off these things I threw myself into my studies. However, while glaring at my textbooks, I
began to feel that doing this was nothing more than a greedy effort to recover the last two fruitless years of my
life. This unseemly conduct was a repudiation of my personal ideals, and acting in accordance with my principles
I gallantly put my books away. This was perhaps the most gentlemanly thing to do.
Now that it had come to this, I had no recourse but to turn to Ozu to provide me with the report that I needed
to turn in. The Secret Society had a print shop wherein one could order and acquire counterfeit assignments. I
had relied on their services for so long that without Ozu to serve as an intermediary to get me what I needed
from the print shop, I would be in very dire straits. I was worn out, both physically and mentally. My inability to
extricate myself from Ozu was also in part due to this illicit connection.
Though May had not yet ended, it was so humid that it already felt like summer. The window was thrown open
so wide that I invited accusations of indecent exposure, yet the air inside remained stagnant. In this musty
space, mysterious substances commingled and fermented, and like the amber-colored whisky from the barrels at
Yamazaki Distillery, would surely intoxicate anyone who entered this 4½-tatami space even for a moment. Upon
opening the door that led out into the corridor the kittens that wandered the boarding house tiptoed into the
room, mewing boldly. They were so cute that I almost wanted to eat them up, but I would not stoop so low as to
do such a savage thing. Even if I were to be clad in only a pair of underpants, I must always act in a manner
befitting a gentleman. After rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, I promptly chased them out.
I flopped down, and, still tired from getting up so early, fell asleep before I knew it. By the time I started
awake, the sun had almost set, and my day off had almost completely gone to waste. The only way I could
salvage the day was by going to English conversation class, and that was drawing near. I made ready to leave
my room.
Because of the suffering I had experienced in Honwaka, I was skeptical at the prospect of participating in
circles again. Of course, that left me with plenty of time on my hands. Miss Higuchi had mentioned that she
worked in an English conversation school, and inspired by her letter, last fall I had begun to attend an English
school in Kawaramachi Sanjō. Incidentally, there were no women by the name of Higuchi working at the school I
attended.
“I’m going out, Kaori. Look after things while I’m away.”
She seemed engrossed in her book and didn’t even look up. The visage of a maiden lost in the fantasy world
of books was truly a lovely thing to behold.

　　　　　　　○

I rode away from Shimogamo Yūsuisō on my bicycle.

Dusk was settling over the city, and the sky above the wispy clouds was tinged with pink. A chilly evening
breeze was blowing.
 I biked past Shimogamo Shrine, leaving the shrine road and crossing Mikage Street. After that I rode into the
area between Kawai Bridge and Demachi Bridge. From the west flows the Kamogawa River, and from the east,
the Takano River. They merge at this spot, commonly known as the Kamo Delta. At this time of year, the area
bustled with welcoming parties for new college students. I, too, came here as a freshman after I entered the
peculiar Honwaka softball circle, but I was unable to join in on the conversations, and spent the entire night
skipping stones across the river by myself.
As I rode atop the cool embankments along the west bank between Demachi Bridge and Great Kamo Bridge,
I let my self-flagellating side get the best of me and turned to look at the merry students on the other side of the
river. I spotted Ozu mingling in a crowd of animatedly chatting youths; there was no way to mistake his ominous
silhouette. My bike came to a screeching halt.
Ozu appeared to be living it up in the middle of a group of freshmen from his circle, blissfully unaware of just
how horribly wasted my day had been. The difference between my side of the river and his was like night and
day. It was a dark day indeed when such innocent, untainted freshman flocked to that filthy youkai of a man.
There was no stopping the spread of his corruption.
I sat there glaring for a while, but, feeling an unsatisfied gurgle from my stomach, I pulled myself together and
began pedaling once again.

　　　　　　　○

By the time I got out of class, night had fallen.

I stopped by Sanjō Kiyamachi to slurp up a bowl of Nagahama ramen, then continued down Kiyamachi
Street. As I walked I thought of Ozu, feeling a leaden weight descend down upon the ramen in my stomach. For
the last two years, he had been at the center of my limited social circle, constantly disturbing the peace of my
4½-tatami existence. Who else would be selfish enough to barge in in the middle of the night, force a love doll on
me, and vanish as quickly as he had came? The real problem though, was that he was even now corrupting my
once-pure soul. The more I interacted with him, the blacker my own heart became. I could practically feel my
mind warping with every second we spent together
I continued to wander aimlessly along the Takase River, smoldering with resentment.
At last my feet came to a halt.
In between the bars and brothels, a dark, squeezed sort of house stood in the shadows. Under the overhang
an old woman sat at a wooden stall covered by a white cloth. She looked like a fortune teller. The sign hanging
off the front of the stall was inscribed with all manner of arcane, incomprehensible runes. Above it the hag’s head
floated in the gloom, lit only by the hazy orange light of a small lantern. It was a ghastly sight, like seeing a
ravenous ghost hungering for the souls of passersby. I began to imagine all manner of misfortune befalling me:
the shadow of the old woman seemed to follow me everywhere I went; nothing I did went right; people I was
expecting never showed up; possessions vanished, never to be seen again; I failed courses that should have
been a cinch; a thesis that I was about to present spontaneously combusted; I fell into the canals of Lake Biwa; I
was caught by a snake-oil salesman on Shijō Street; and so forth. While these wild thoughts were going through
my head, the old woman noticed me looking at her. She glared at me from the inky darkness with gleaming eyes,
drawing me in with her otherworldly emanations. Her suspicious aura was strangely persuasive, and logically
thinking I came to the conclusion that the divinations of someone who allowed her supernatural aura to flow so
freely could not possibly be wrong.
In my twenty-odd years of life, there had been but a handful of times where I humbly took someone’s advice.
What if that was the reason I was stuck on this thorny path, unable to move forward? Though I took few risks in
life, wasn’t there a possibility that I could choose the thorn-lined path? If only I had chosen to stop relying on my
own judgment earlier, my campus life certainly would have taken a different shape. I would not have entered the
cultish Honwaka softball circle, nor met the twisted Ozu. Rather, I would have been blessed with wonderful
mentors and friends, become accomplished in all the arts and sciences, of course have a beautiful raven-haired
maiden at my side, face a glittering golden future ahead of me, and perhaps even have that all-important rosy
student life in the palm of my hand. That was the kind of life suited for someone like myself.
That’s right. It wasn’t too late. The sooner I took a third-party’s objective advice, the sooner I could escape
this dreary life into the life that I was meant to live.
I moved my legs toward the old woman as if I was being sucked in by her supernatural aura.
“Boy, what is it that you wish to hear?”
The old woman mumbled her words like her mouth was full of cotton, giving the impression that they were all
the more valuable.
“I’m not sure where to start…”
Seeing me at a loss for words, she grinned.
“I can see from your face that you are very frustrated, unsatisfied. You are not able to use your full talents;
your current situation is not suited for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!”
“Show me your hands.”
The old hag took my palms and peered into them, nodding approvingly.
“You have much earnest talent in you.”
I quickly tipped my hat to her keen insight. A true master hides his skills, and I had hidden my talents for so
long that even I didn’t realize I had them any more. For this old woman to sense those talents within five minutes
of meeting me must mean that she was no ordinary person.
“It is essential that you not let opportunities slip away. An opportunity is nothing more than a favorable
circumstance, you understand? But it’s difficult to take hold of opportunities. Sometimes they hide in places you
don’t expect, and sometimes it is only later that you realize something that seemed like an opportunity was really
nothing at all. But in order to seize an opportunity you must act. You look like you will have a long life, so sooner
or later you will have the chance.”
As befitting her aura, her words were truly profound.
“I don’t want to wait forever; I want to grab my opportunity now. Can you be a little more specific?”
At my probing, the wrinkles on the old woman’s face contorted even further. I thought her right cheek must be
itchy or something, but it turned out that she was just smiling.
“It’s hard to be specific about the future. Even if I were to tell you about a precise opportunity, it might very
well be twisted and warped by the machinations of fate until it was no longer a opportunity when you chanced
upon it, and that would just be a disservice to you, wouldn’t it? Fate is something that changes from moment to
moment, you see.”
“But, everything you’ve told me is too vague to act on.”
 As I stood there in confusion, she exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Very well. I will refrain from speaking of things far ahead, but I can speak of things that will soon come to
pass.”
I widened my ears like Dumbo.
“Colosseum,” she suddenly whispered.
“Colosseum? What’s that?”
“It is the sign of an opportunity. When an opportunity arrives, it will be accompanied by Colosseum,” she
intoned.
“So are you telling me I need to go to Rome?”
But the old woman merely grinned.
“When your opportunity comes, you mustn’t let it slip away, you mustn’t fumble around aimlessly as you have
been doing. Seize it, boldly, daringly! If you do, you will no longer be unsatisfied, and be able to embark on a
new path, even though that path may hold hardships of its own. Then again, I expect that you understand this
quite well.”
I didn’t understand in the slightest, but I nodded anyway.
“Even if you don’t catch this one, you don’t need to worry. You are a splendid young man, so someday without
a doubt you will make it. I can see it. There’s no need to rush.”
With that, the old woman brought her divinations to an end.
“Thank you very much.”
I nodded to her, paid the fee, and turned around to find a woman standing behind me.
“A little lost lamb, are we?” Hanuki said.

　　　　　　　○

Hanuki is in the same English class as I am. We had been acquaintances since I joined the class during the
previous fall, six months ago, but our relationship extended no further than the classroom door. I had tried many
times to acquire her transcendental skills, but each attempt had ended in failure.
Hanuki speaks an exceedingly free-flowing, almost nonsensical sort of English. The rapid-fire words she spits
out dance freely in the air, and despite her atrocious grammar, transcend the normal rules to connect and
organize themselves into meaning in the recipient’s head. It’s practically magic. On the other hand, while I
carefully polish my choice of words inside my head the conversation moves on without me, so that by the time
I’m ready to release my grand proclamations to the world it’s already too late. This pattern repeated itself
endlessly. If I must speak without perfect grammar, I will proudly choose to be a silent observer, forever looking
on and never leaping.
From what I had gathered during the classroom self-introductions, Hanuki worked at a dental clinic. During
class, we gave speeches about whatever topics we wished, but Hanuki usually pontificated on teeth. Over the
past six months alone, her dental vocabulary had grown at an alarming rate, and correspondingly the dental IQ
of the rest of the class had risen several points, which was certainly not a bad thing.
I invariably chose to speak about Ozu’s misdeeds, since he compromised the entirety of my social network. I
was initially reticent to speak of his foul crimes in such a cosmopolitan forum, but my classmates gave my halting
words an unexpectedly warm welcome. And so, “OZU NEWS” became a staple of the class each week. They
were probably just interested in listening to gossip.
After a few weeks of this, Hanuki called out to me one day after class. Astonishingly, it turned out that Ozu
was one of her acquaintances. He was a patient at the dental clinic where she worked, and the “Master” upon
whom Ozu frequently called was also an old friend of hers.
“Small world, huh?,” she commented.
We began to complain about Ozu’s shifty personality, and soon hit it off with each other.

　　　　　　　○

After bumping into each other in front of the fortune teller, Hanuki and I headed into one of the many bars in
Kiyamachi.
It seemed that she had made plans to meet someone in Kiyamachi after class ended, but was suddenly
overcome with a wave for revulsion for the person she was supposed to meet, but she still wanted to drink, even
though she didn’t want to run into this person, but she still really wanted to drink—until as she walked along
debating, she spotted my lost figure there in the street. “Lucky me, lucky me,” she sang as she skipped down the
avenue.
The bars were all packed since it was the weekend. Of course, there were always plenty of students, but this
weekend was especially busy, since there were parties being thrown to welcome new students. Here and there I
glimpsed faces that looked so young they could only have been in high school a few days prior.
We raised a glass to a bleak future for Ozu. Among the countless seeds of gossip that exist in the world, Ozu
was particularly good as a conversation starter because there was no end of things to complain about when it
came to him.
“He’s always screwing things up for me.”
“I know, right? That’s his favorite thing to do.”
“The only reason he exists is to mess with other people’s lives.”
“Yeah, but he always keeps his own life on the down low.”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t even know where he lives. The bastard is always inviting himself into my place, but
whenever I ask him he just won’t tell me.”
“Actually, I’ve been there before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He lives in a studio in Jōdoji, like a little bit off Shirakawa Street in a building that looks like it’s made
out of candy. Ozu gets a pretty generous allowance, you know. I feel sorry for his parents.”
“God, he pisses me off…”
“But aren’t you his best friend?” she asked, giggling. “He always talks about you.”
“What does he say?” I cautiously asked, dimly imagining Ozu with that inscrutable smile of his. There was a
chance that he had whispered some poisonous alternative facts into Hanuki’s ear, and I had to firmly clear those
up.
“A lot of things. Something about you two leaving the same weird circle together.”
“Ah.”
 That part, at least, was true.

　　　　　　　○

Honwaka, the circle I had stumbled into, was, like the name sounded, as snug and cozy as a cloud floating in
a hazy spring sky. Upper- and lower classmen alike addressed each other with the utmost familiarity, and there
was no distinction of rank or title. There were no leaders or followers, no hatred or sorrow. Everyone built a
communal atmosphere of love, helping and cooperating with each other as if they were tossing little white balls
back and forth. It was the type of place that, in no more than a week, would have you flipping tables to break the
monotonous pleasantness.
On weekends the circle would reserve a field to toss a ball around, and thus all I did was go to communal
lunches and tedious excursions as the weeks plodded on from May to June to July . How could I possibly learn
the nuances of sociability in such an insipid place? It was impossible. My patience was soon stretched to its
limits.
No matter how much time I spent there, I never felt like I fit in. Everyone was always smiling, making polite
conversation, refraining from disagreement, never once allowing anything that could be considered profane or
crude to pass their lips. Each person’s demeanor was so alike to the next that it was impossible to distinguish
one from another, or to match names to faces. Whenever I tried to say something, everyone would paste a kind
smile on their faces and sink into silence.
The single person with whom I could feel any sort of kinship was Ozu. He had managed to obtain a place in
the circle with his curious conversational dexterity, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t pull off an innocent-
looking smile; each time he tried to do so, he only succeeded in looking more like a youkai, as if he couldn’t quite
hide the evil lurking within himself. His was the only name in the circle that I could remember, or rather, the only
one I couldn’t forget.
That summer, we went to a forest on the Kyoto-Osaka prefectural border for a three-day trip. Softball practice
was merely a pretext: in reality, it was just another friendly bonding session. Considering how cloyingly amiable
the atmosphere in the circle already was, I hardly saw the need for another feel-good kumbaya campout.
But on the second night, after a meeting in the outdoor recreation center we were staying in, one of the
upperclassmen introduced a strange middle-aged man whom I had never seen before. It was quite unexpected.
He was a chubby man with fat marshmallow cheeks, and his spectacles were so minuscule that they were
almost buried in his face.
The man began to speak, about love, and the ills of the modern age, and the coming battles we would have
to fight, delivering each thundering line with great zeal. His vague, overbearing speech went on and on, but it
was impossible to extract any meaning from his words. “Who the hell is this?” I wondered, taking a look around
me, but everyone else was sitting there listening to his words with rapt adoration on their faces. Only Ozu, who
was off to the side in front of me, sat there yawning.
After a while the man began to point out individual circle members, who stood up and began talking about
themselves. Some of them spoke about personal troubles, while others gushed about how grateful they were to
be in the circle, how lucky they were to have been invited. One girl even started weeping; the fat man consoled
her in a very indulgent tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe in you, and everyone else here does too.”
 At the chubby man’s urging, Ozu got to his feet.
“You know, after I entered college I was so unsure of myself, but thanks to entering this circle, I feel like I’ve
been able to adapt much better. Being with everyone here feels like home to me. It’s truly an amazing thing,” he
said earnestly, as if his earlier yawning had been nothing but a sham.

　　　　　　　○

“And then what happened?” Hanuki pressed me. A note of petulance had crept into her voice, no doubt due to
the alcohol she had just imbibed.
“When they asked me, I tried to sound enthusiastic, but the fat man said he would be coming by my room for
a chat, so I thought I’d stepped in it. So instead of going back to my room I waited in the bathroom until the lobby
was empty, and and then I went outside.”
“Ah, and then you met Ozu, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
As I snuck out the front entrance of the recreation center, Ozu’s form loomed from the darkness like a
primordial spirit that had lain dormant for many centuries in the forest. I soon realized that it was Ozu, but didn’t
let my guard down, convinced that he was an agent dispatched by Honwaka, intent on trussing me up and
delivering me to the fat man. Perhaps they intended to throw me into a fetid underground torture chamber and
make me relive my first love in high school, as well as all the rest of my deepest, most embarrassing secrets. If
so, they would quickly find I would not go down without a fight.
“Quickly!” Ozu hissed as I glared at him. “You’re running away, right? Let me come with you!”
And so, we reluctantly joined forces and slipped into the murky forest.
The road from the recreation center down to the village at the bottom of the mountain was pitch black, but
luckily Ozu had brought along a flashlight. I had to admit that he always came prepared. I had left my bag back
in my room, but I hadn’t packed anything too important anyway. Each time a car came our way we fled into the
trees, waiting with bated breath until the lights receded into the distance.
“Well, that sounds like quite the adventure!” Hanuki exclaimed, sounding overly amazed.
“Well, maybe. We probably could have just stayed the night without too much trouble.”
“But wasn’t it a cult?”
“Well, yeah. They called me once after that, but I haven’t heard anything from them since. I guess they
weren’t too interested in me.”
“Maybe. What happened after you got off the mountain?”
“Well, we reached the farms at the bottom and crossed through the fields. We thought we might be able to
hitch a ride from someone on the highway, but since it was the middle of the night there weren’t a lot of cars and
they wouldn’t stop anyways. If I saw two weirdos trying to hitchhike on the side of the road, I wouldn’t stop
either.”
“Mm, that sucks.”
“Anyways, we kept walking, and reached the nearest rail station by following the signs. It was really far, since
we were in the countryside. It was around four in the morning by the time we got there, but we were so paranoid
that they would send someone there to search for us that we followed the tracks to the next station to throw them
off. It was like the train scene from Stand By Me. When we got to the station we got some canned coffee and
chilled for a while, then boarded the first train back here.”
“That’s must have been exhausting!”
“I slept like a log on the train. I couldn’t take another step.”
“And that’s how you and Ozu became friends?”
“No, I wouldn’t call it a friendship, per se.”
She tittered. “You know, Ozu is surprisingly innocent in some ways.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got some magic beans to sell you...”
“No, I’m serious! Haven’t you heard the story about his girlfriend?”
In disbelief, I unconsciously leaned forward.
“His…his girlfriend?”
“Yeah. He met her in the movie circle back when he was a freshman. The Master hasn’t seen her, and I
haven’t either. I think he doesn’t want her to see his other side. It’s kind of messed up, but somehow I think it’s
adorable. He even came to me for relationship advice once.”
“That rat…”
Hanuki smirked, watching me quiver with anger.
“What was her name again? I can’t remember...”

　　　　　　　○

Next, we headed to one of Hanuki’s favorite haunts, a bar called Moonwalk in Pontochō. The more we
gossiped about Ozu, the more we opened up to each other. Speaking ill of a third party who isn’t present has the
odd effect of creating a feeling of intimacy.
The conversation eventually turned to the theft at the laundromat.
“Someone must really have wanted your underpants,” she cackled, shaking her head.
“But you don’t understand, losing this much underwear sucks!”
The night was wearing on, yet Hanuki showed no signs of tiring. I was beginning to feel fatigued from the
unrelenting noise of a night on the town, and the alcohol was beginning to take its toll. As Hanuki’s eyes began
to gleam with a dangerous, intoxicated light, I started to yearn for my 4½-tatami room. I wanted to go home,
forget about all my troubles, and curl up in my futon with some stimulating reading material.
But things just weren’t going my way.
Since we lived close to each other, we decided to share a taxi home. Hanuki’s eyes glowed ever brighter, and
I began to fear that I had lost control of the situation. As the lights of the city darted by outside the window, she
sighed heavily and looked in my direction, as if she were regarding her prey.
Her apartment was on Kawabata Street, near Mikage Bridge. I guided her unsteady feet all the way up to her
door, at which point she invited me in for some tea. By that time, I had lost track of who I was,, where I had come
from, or where I was going. Feeling utter hopelessness at the thought of being trapped forever by myself within
the flow of eternity, I stood there trembling, like an abandoned cat in the rain.

　　　　　　　○
 From the moment I passed over the cursed threshold of puberty, my Johnny had remained in a constant state
of misery. Other guys’ Johnnies were probably free to move as they pleased, unconcerned with appearances.
However, possessed as he was with a master like myself, my Johnny was forced to cover up his true potential,
unable to indulge in his naughtier compulsions. Discretion is indeed the better part of valor, yet a Johnny as
vigorous as mine couldn’t be satisfied with such a hollow existence forever. Whenever he sensed an opportunity,
he would raise his head haughtily and try to reassert himself.
“Hey brah, isn’t this where I come in?” he clamored.
Each time he raised his voice, I reproached him, “The opportunity isn’t here yet”, and ordered him to stay put.
We are civilized people living in a modern age, and I am a gentleman with many matters to attend to. I did my
best to convince him that I didn’t have time to let him fool around with women because I was working towards
giving him a permanent home in which to play to his heart’s content.
“So when’s this fucking ‘opportunity’ gonna come?” he grumbled. “Don’t condescend to me, bro.”
“Don’t be like that. It’s not my fault I have to look down on you, you know.”
“So you’re saying you’d rather think with your brain instead of with me. Shit, being a brain must be nice.”
“Stop sulking, it’s embarrassing.”
“Hmph. I guess nothing comes to those who wait, huh?” he muttered, falling down limply.
It wasn’t like I didn’t understand how he felt, and it was heart wrenching to see him with no light at the end of
his tunnel. The louder he howled, the more I realized how similar we were, lone wolves doomed to a life of
solitude. My sympathy for him increased all the more, and as I thought about how his talents were being wasted
on mere daydreams and fantasies, I often found it difficult not to shed a tear.
“Don’t cry,” he would say. “I’m sorry. I was being selfish.”
“Sorry,” I would mutter.
And so, Johnny and I would make our peace.
That is, I daresay, an accurate representation of my youth.

　　　　　　　○

Hanuki’s room was very tidy, and the furnishings were surprisingly sparse. It felt like she could easily pack up
and move anywhere at a moment’s notice, something that made me a little envious. It was so different from my
own room, filled with chaos and bedlam.
“Sorry, I think I had a little too much to drink,” Hanuki laughed, taking out some herbal tea and putting on the
water to boil. That mysterious glint was still in her eye. While I wasn’t looking, she had taken off her coat and was
wearing a simple long-sleeved shirt. When did that happen? I wondered.
She opened the glass door to the veranda; from our position overlooking Kawabata Street, I could see the
trees lining the Takano River.
“It’s so nice here, by the river. The cars are kind of noisy though,” she commented. “If you climb up to the roof,
you can see Daimonji to the east.”
However, at that moment, Daimonji was the furthest thing from my mind.
 Finding myself alone with a woman sipping tea in her room, I realized that I would need to navigate carefully
in order to come out of this clichéd predicament with my gentleman’s honor intact. You could almost hear a slight
revving sound as my brain went into overdrive, poring through my internal databank of history, physics,
psychology, biochemistry, literature, and even pseudoscience to find an appropriate response. I thought if Ozu
were here, there would be no need for all this tension, and everything could proceed normally.
Even so, Hanuki was being far too careless.
It was incredibly risky for her to bring me to her room this late at night. Certainly, I had been her classmate in
English school for half a year now. I was also the “best friend” of Ozu, whom she was also acquainted with. But
anyone with an ounce of common sense wouldn’t have felt safe until they had trussed me up like a turtle, hung
me upside down from the balcony, and lit a slow fire underneath me. While I fretted for her safety, she blithely
started chatting about the person she was supposed to meet tonight.
I was surprised to hear that her drinking partner was originally going to be none other than Dr. Kubozuka from
the dental clinic, and even more surprised to learn that the good doctor already had a wife and kids. In my eyes it
was unforgivable for such a person to abuse his position and arrange for a tryst with another woman, but since
Hanuki had been working for him for a long time, I decided that a scurrilous youngster such as myself couldn’t
understand the nuances of a relationship between two consenting adults. Though I resolved not to volunteer
anything on this topic that could be taken the wrong way, she continued to talk about him, and eventually asked
for my advice.
“I guess standing him up in Kiyamachi was kind of a shitty thing to do,” she fretted.
As I lapsed into silence, Hanuki sidled up to me. “Why so tense?”
“I-I’ve always been like this.”
“Liar. Those wrinkles weren’t there just a minute ago,” she crooned, leaning up to my forehead.
Then, she tried to lick my face.
I jerked back, completely astonished. But her eyes were burning with a strange light, and she grabbed hold of
me once more.

　　　　　　　○

At that moment, I noticed four things about the situation.

Number one: the soft swellings on Hanuki’s bosom were pushing up against me. I attempted to deal with this
situation calmly, but, as one might expect, it was exceedingly difficult. I despised the ability of those feminine
curves to completely confound us men: for many years I had conducted extensive visual research on this matter,
but had yet to provide a satisfactory answer as to why such curves, whose only redeeming feature was their
softness, wielded such power over us. Faced with the power of Hanuki’s breasts, I had to admit that I was
aroused by the situation, but I had no intention of letting these mere protrusions of flesh ruin the purity I had
spent so many years protecting. To do so would be unforgivable.
Number two: as I leaned my head back to escape Hanuki’s probing tongue, I noticed a bulletin board covered
in photographs on the wall above me. My attention was drawn to one photo in particular, which seemed to have
been taken during a trip abroad in Italy. Pictured was the Colosseum, and in spite of the situation I currently
faced, the fortune teller’s words flashed through my mind. Was the opportunity I was looking for right in front of
me?
Number three: having glimpsed the goods within his grasp, Johnny had reared his head again and was
attempting to assert his dominance. “It’s my time, brah!” he ejaculated. I tried to control him, but he shouted, “If
this ain’t your chance, what the fuck is!?” which I had to admit was a fair point. “I’ve waited long enough. It’s my
time to shine!”
Number four: along the left wall, through the kitchen, was a bathroom. If I could make it in there, it would be
an excellent place in which to regain my composure and weather the storm.
Hanuki kept wrapping herself around me, trying to lick my face.
While my mind was whipping itself this way and that, Johnny kept wriggling around restlessly, trying to make
his way to where the action was. Having marshalled every ounce of lust in my body, he was leading his followers
to try to take control. While general headquarters was still holding out, Johnny’s faction was pounding on the
door.
“What are you doing?”
“This is your chance!”
“This isn’t what we were promised!”
Deep within headquarters, I stoically blocked out their cries and contemplated the campaign map in front of
me. “Can you really call someone who lets himself be washed away by these fleeting desires a civilized person?”
I brooded. “Where is my pride if I take advantage of an intoxicated woman like this? I don’t even know her that
well!”
In response to my solemn remonstrations, Johnny raised his fist to the skies and began to pound furiously on
the iron gates of my headquarters. “You gotta do something!!” he screamed. “Don’t you understand how
important that first step is?! If you can’t do it, then let me take over!”
“What’s the point of just acting? Preserving my honor is the most important act of all,” I replied. Johnny
decided to change tack, adopting a pleading tone.
“Come on, what kind of dude gets so obsessed about his chastity? What, you think someone’s gonna give
you a medal for being a virgin? You could open up a whole new world by doing this, man. Don’t you want to see
what’s on the other side?”
“I do. But now isn’t the time.”
“Fuck the time, dude, this is it! The Colosseum was right there! It’s just like that old woman said, isn’t it?”
“Whether or not I should take that chance is up to me. You have no right to make that decision.”
“Ughhhh. Dude, I’m so sad. I’m so sad, dude...”
Steeling my resolve, I inched along the wall, trying to escape from Hanuki, who was still clinging to me. We
shuffled along the floor like some exotic animal, slowly crossing the room and slithering into the kitchen.
“Look, a cockroach!“ I cried. Hanuki jumped and whirled around, and taking advantage of her momentary
distraction I stood up and sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the lock home. Though this was meant to protect
my honor, it sure didn’t look that way.
From within me, Johnny let out an anguished howl.

　　　　　　　○
 “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” Hanuki airily asked from the other side of the door.
“I’m fine, I’ll just be a second,” I answered, straining my ears. After a while, I heard her return to the living
room.
Secure on my throne, I thought about the three women swirling around me. One was a yet-unseen pen pal,
another was a silent love doll, and the third was this inebriated woman who was trying to lick my face.
On the other hand, during the last two years I had spent on the sidelines, I had never experienced anything
as sensational as this. Oh, this sugar-coated life. Perhaps, the winds of change had begun to blow when Ozu
brought Kaori to my room. From now on, my life would be filled with rendezvous with the fairer sex, my calendar
packed with appointments for lovers’ trysts, and my throat cracked and bleeding from hours upon hours of
whispering sweet nothings. Even just thinking about it was tiring. I started to lose my nerve, and the prospect
began to seem more like an arduous trek up Mount Hiei.
If I didn’t plan on becoming a maven of the sexual arts, I would need to narrow it down to one.
Among the three women, one of them was a silent maiden, and even I had to admit she was not a contender.
Another, according to my philosophy of correspondence, I would never be able to meet. This, of course, left only
Hanuki.
Just as the fortune teller had predicted, I had seen a picture of the Colosseum right here. There had to be a
deeper meaning to this, deeper than the act of surrendering control of the lower half of my body, as Johnny was
insisting I do. It was precisely because this could be my opportunity that I would wait here, protecting my
gentlemanly precepts, until Hanuki returned to her senses. From there, I would use the proper channels to
reopen negotiations for our consensual union.
Even if she was drunk, she wouldn’t try to lick the face of someone she was totally uninterested in.
Considering how eccentric she was, it wasn’t surprising that she would show interest in someone like me, even if
it was only idle curiosity. Here and now, I would get a fresh start, grab hold of this opportunity, and set off towards
a shining golden future. I had faith in my own untapped potential; it was merely forgotten, not lost.
Composing myself, I waited until Johnny calmed down, then exited the bathroom, to find Hanuki face down in
the center of the room, snoring like a pair of bellows. I decided to wait until she woke, and sat down beside her.

　　　　　　　○

Despite my best efforts to stay awake I began to doze off, probably because of the alcohol. I had been
leaning against the wall, but at some point slumped to the floor.
I finally woke up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with a slight sense of unease, to find a demon sitting primly
in front of me.
Once I had overcome the urge to jump up and shriek, I took another look and realized that it was Ozu. How
strange. I was sure that I had been in Hanuki’s room, yet here he sat before me. Perhaps Ozu had been hiding
inside the shell of Hanuki the Dental Hygienist the entire time. Then, that would mean that I had been getting
licked by Ozu-Hanuki, and was about to begin negotiations for an unholy union with this vile hybrid?
“Why the hell are you here?” I finally said.
Ozu brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his head.
 “I was called away just as things were heating up with my precious underclassmen. I even had to call a taxi,
here. Have some consideration, please.”
I had no clue what he was talking about.
“What I mean is, Hanuki is a dear friend of my Master, but she has a single weakness. When she gets drunk,
the wheels tend to come off, if you catch my drift.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It appears that you were licked?”
“That is...correct.”
“Usually she behaves herself, but it looks she had a little too much fun with you tonight. She’d like you to
consider what happened tonight water under the bridge.”
“Huh?”
I was dumbfounded.
“She would like me to convey her apologies to you, though it’s a little late for that.”
As if to protest his words, a loud retching sound came from inside the bathroom. It seemed that Hanuki was
barricaded in there paying the price for her earlier overindulgence.
“So why are you here?”
“She asked me to come here and explain everything to you on her behalf. I could hardly leave one of the
Master’s oldest friends in a bind.”
I had seen Hanuki licking my face as a turning point in my life, but now that the jig was up, I felt pretty foolish.
I privately thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t lost my senses and done anything rash Still, it was irksome to
think that Ozu was the one to douse me with a cold splash of reality.
“You didn’t try anything funny, did you?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just…getting my face licked.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect much out of you. You probably freaked out and locked yourself in the bathroom as
soon as she came at you, didn’t you?”
“Of course I didn’t. I made sure she was okay, like a gentleman.”
“Oh, I’m sure you did.”
“Jackass....”
“Now, now, don’t judge her too harshly. She’s getting her just deserts with Mr. Toilet.”
“I mean you! You’re the jackass!”
“Please don’t get me mixed up in this.”
“Every time something bad happens to me, you’re almost always there. You miserable pest!”
“Always the ray of sunshine. Why do you think I extricated myself from a lovely little banquet to come all the
way over here? It’s because I felt it was my duty as a friend to comfort you in your hour of need.”
“I don’t need your pity. You’re the reason I’m even in this mess!”
“Most people would be embarrassed to even say something like that, but you almost sound like you actually
believe it!”
“If I hadn’t met you, my life would have been so worthwhile. I would have done well in class, gone out with
raven-haired maidens, and enjoyed a wonderful life without a single cloud hanging over me. That much is
certain.”
“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
 “It’s only today that I have truly realized how much my student life has gone to waste.”
“Not that I’m trying to make you feel better or anything, but I think that no matter how you led your life you
would have run into me. Call it intuition. At any rate I’m doing everything I can to corrupt you. You can’t fight fate.”
He lifted his pinky dramatically. “You and I are bound by the black thread of fate.”
I shuddered, imagining myself sinking to the pitch-black depths of the sea, bound to Ozu like a ham by a dark
thread.
“Anyways, you’ve been going out with someone for two years, haven’t you? On the mark, aren’t I?” I cried
triumphantly.
An odd smirk came to his face, accompanied by a soft chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I can’t believe a jagoff like you gets to run around having fun behind my back.”
“Calm down, we’re getting a little off-topic, aren’t we? Just pretend tonight never happened, and accept this.”
He pointed to a small package.
“What’s that?”
“A castella. Consider it a token of apology from Hanuki, with humblest regards,” he said unctuously, like a
sales clerk plotting to take over the store.

　　　　　　　○

Light was creeping over the horizon as I walked through town.

There was a desolate morning-after atmosphere lingering in the empty streets, and the morning chill nipped
at my skin. I stood in the middle of Mikage Bridge, hugging myself to stay warm, and looked at the greenery
covering both banks of the Takano River. It felt refreshing, being able to view such a pleasant morning scene for
once, and it was only with a heavy heart that I returned to Shimogamo Yūsuisō. Everything felt just a little bit
drearier—the broken fluorescent light in the entrance hall, the wooden shoe rack, the dust-filled corridors.
With leaden footsteps I shambled through the chilly hallways to my room and collapsed into my still-
disheveled bed. In the warmth under the covers of my futon, I thought back on the many events that had
transpired over the course of the previous day. It was most upsetting that Ozu had turned up at the very end,
jolting me awake from my fleeting dreams of a future with Hanuki before the dawn had even arrived, but I
supposed this merely signified a return to square one in the Game of Love. Such a commonplace event was
hardly worth fretting about. A wounded pride was a small price to pay for an entire castella. I would be patient.
But I couldn’t take it.
I couldn’t fill the hole in my heart.
From under the sheets, I snuck a glance at my silent roommate. As usual, Kaori was resting against the
bookshelf, serenely reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I got up and caressed her hair. It felt as if
I was cuddling a real raven-haired maiden lost in her book, and a sudden wave of consternation came over me.
“You idiot…” I muttered to myself, and retreated back into the futon.
It was pathetic that I had deluded myself into thinking that I lived in the days of wine and roses. Perhaps, if I
had trusted the fortune teller’s prophecy and let Johnny’s urges come to a head with the intoxicated Hanuki, a
new life might actually have opened itself up to me. No, that could not be. I refused to accept it. Relations
between men and women should be conducted in a formal manner, not tied together on a whim like a shoelace.
I had thought that everything had started to change once Ozu brought Kaori here, but of the three women
revolving around me, Hanuki had suddenly dropped out of the running; that dream had lasted no more than half
a day. That left my pen pal, whom I could never meet, and the woman who lived with me and yet was not alive.
In other words, there was no one left.
I would face this cold reality unflinchingly. As long as I put my mind to it, I could accomplish anything.
While I lay there in my futon, gazing at Kaori, Johnny gave a sudden squirm, but I closed my eyes and fell into
merciful oblivion.

　　　　　　　○

I woke up at dusk and walked to a café near Demachi to have my dinner.

As I passed the Kamo Delta, the setting sun clearly illuminated the Daimonji character; this area would be an
excellent vantage point from which to view the bonfire. I stood there, imagining what it would be like to see the
fires with Miss Higuchi Keiko, but discouraged by the cold evening wind and a soft growl from my stomach, I
reluctantly broke the daydreams off at a good spot.
After I went back to Shimogamo Yūsuisō, I sat at my desk and concentrated on writing a reply to Miss
Higuchi, seeking refuge from the restless thoughts buzzing around my head.

Dear Miss Higuchi,

Summer seems to have come early this year, as this sweltering weather seems to continue without
end. The air is close in my boarding house, making it intolerably hot. Sometimes I feel like stringing up a
hammock in the corridor, but I can’t quite bring myself to go that far. It is quite difficult, not being able to
study in the dormitory until summer ends. Soon enough I think I will find myself spending a lot of time in
the library. There will be few distractions there, so I hope that I will be able to be very productive.
I’m glad that you are enjoying “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea”. When I was reading it, I
had a world map by my side to track the journey of the Nautilus in the book. Doing that made me feel
almost as if I was also embarking on a nautical voyage around the world; I recommend that you try it for
yourself. I have not yet read Stevenson’s “Treasure Island”—I shall look for it in a bookstore. The
balance in classic adventure novels is quite superb: sometimes you’re on the edge of your seat, while at
other times you feel utterly relaxed as you flip through the pages. Though they are adventures they’re
not too bloody, which is something that I can appreciate.
I’m not sure exactly what Irish pubs are like, though I hope to visit one someday. Since I spend so
much time either at school or at home, I have had but few chances to go out into town as of late.
Since spring semester began, I have been very busy going to labs and lectures. From the outside,
my schedule might look demanding, but I find each day actually quite fulfilling. The world of science is a
wonderful place. When Jules Verne was writing his novels in the 19th century, he couldn’t possibly have
imagined how far we would come. I must say that I regret that the mountains of knowledge have grown
 so tall that is impossible to climb them all. However, it is precisely this to which we owe the luxuries of
our modern lives, so I mustn’t be so cynical.
As you previously wrote, I am making the most of the opportunities that I have been blessed with,
and seeking to improve myself in any way I can. Of course, my health is very important, and I try to get
exercise at every opportunity. I put care into planning my nutrition as well.
I would like to clear up the misconception that has arisen regarding my diet, in particular regarding
fish patties, which I certainly do not subsist on every day. On the contrary, I am the sort of man who
would not balk even at eating bowls of aloe yogurt if need be.
I am sure you are quite busy yourself, but please accept my best wishes for your health.

Sincerely Yours,

　　　　　　　○

I nodded with satisfaction and put down my pen.

There were a few embellishments here and there, but all in all, it was a tasteful piece of work. Even when the
words I was writing were less than sincere, I came to believe in them as I put pen to paper. While I wrote, I was
transfigured into a model student, but no sooner had the ink dried that I reverted back to my old, uncultured self,
like waking from a dream. Remembering who I really was was painful; how brazen, even for me, to write things
like, “I seek to improve myself”. Though I had the will to do so, the path was shrouded in darkness. How exactly
was I to improve myself? I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was only building up the parts of myself that no one
wanted to see.
I placed the finished letter into an envelope, then reread Miss Higuchi’s letter.
She mentioned that she enjoyed the rainy season, and looking at hydrangeas through the raindrops. She felt
sorry for the harpoonist in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, being locked up inside the submarine. And
she asked me to take care of myself. Me!
I wondered what kind of person she was.
Though I had written the letter to distract myself, how ironic it was that now my heart ached all the more. I
pressed her letter to my chest and heaved a sigh. It was a revolting display, even for me, and I quickly snapped
back to reality to reality.
I absentmindedly stroked the teddy bear I had picked up at the laundromat yesterday, feeling oddly comforted
by its softness. I was becoming quite fond of this cute little bear, so I decided to give it a name. After about five
minutes of thought, because it was so soft, I decided to name it Mochiguma.

　　　　　　　○

That night, Ozu came to visit, rudely demanding to know whether I had fooled around with Kaori.
“So when are you going to get this thing out of my room?”
 “Soon, soon,” he grinned. “Are you sure you’re not secretly enjoying living with her? Look, you even gave her
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea to read.”
“Shut up, shut up right now. I don’t want you to ever open your mouth again.”
“Well that’s not very nice. If I couldn’t make a little chit-chat, then I’d be so lonely I’d die.”
“That’s the idea.”
“On the flipside, as long as I can flap my tongue, I won’t die, even if you kill me.”
He went on to talk for a very long time about a magic kamenoko brush which used the Van der Waals force to
bind dirt to the innumerable firm, incredibly fine bristle tips at the molecular level, effortlessly lifting off any sort of
dirt or grime. His Master had charged him with finding this thing.
“That’s stupid, there’s no way that thing exists!”
“No, I assure you that it does. I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of it. Apparently it was so effective that all
the detergent makers lobbied against it, so it’s never been sold widely. Anyway, if I don’t find it…”
“You sure are wasting a lot of time and effort on this nonsense.”
“It’s tough since the Master’s always asking for stuff. Chirimen Sanshō’s sardines and Demachi Futaba’s
mame mochi I can deal with, but then he goes and asks for things like antique globes and banners from used-
book fairs, and seahorses and giant squids. And if I bring him something that displeases him I’ll be expelled on
the spot. Ain’t no rest for the weary.”
Ozu sounded strangely cheerful as he said this.
“The other day, the Master decided he wanted a seahorse, so I got a tank from the garbage dump and
brought it to him. But when we tried to fill it with water, it broke and all the water came gushing out. The Master’s
room got completely flooded.”
“Hold on, what room does your Master live in?”
“It’s right above this one.”
I was suddenly seized with fury. Just recently, while I was out and about, my ceiling sprang a leak. When I
came back the trickling water had soaked all of my books, and the ink on the pages had run together into an
unintelligible mess. Not only that, but my computer was also destroyed, and every single electron that made up
my data was washed out to sea. Of course, this incident spelled the end of whatever academic comeback I
might have hoped to make. I had wanted to march up and lodge a furious protest, but decided that getting
entangled with the unidentified resident of the room above me was too troublesome, and in the end I left the
account unsettled.
“So that was your work?”
“I’m sure the destruction of your porn library was no big deal,” he brazenly asserted.
“Get out of here. I’ve got things to do.”
“All right, I’m leaving. I’m going to the master’s place for blind hotpot tonight anyway.” He held up a plastic bag
filled with ingredients.
As he turned to leave, his eyes fell upon the teddy bear sitting next to my TV. He picked it up and gently
squeezed it.
“What’s an adorable thing like this doing in your room?”
“I found it.”
“Can I have it?”
“Why?”
 “I want to try putting it in the hotpot tonight.”
“Are you stupid? You can’t eat that.”
“Well, it’ll be dark, so maybe someone will mistake it for a bit of mochi and put it in their mouth.”
“Not everyone’s as dumb as you.”
“If you don’t give it to me, I might spill some water again upstairs. I wonder what’ll happen to all the precious
magazines in your closet?”
“Fine, fine, take it!” I shouted. It was heart wrenching, having one of the few comforts in my life taken away,
but I just wanted to get Ozu out of my room.
“Heheheh. Thank you very much. Don’t go messing around with Kaori now.”
“Shut up and leave!”
After he left, I suddenly felt very tired. I prayed to the god of Shimogamo Shrine that Ozu might choke and die
on that teddy bear.

　　　　　　　○

After spending the next day buried in lectures and labs, I went to Café Collection for a dinner of mentaiko
spaghetti. Afterwards I walked along Imadegawa Street and watched as the budding trees on Mt. Yoshida
sparkled like gold underneath the setting sun.
Ahh.
I tottered off down the road towards Ginkakuji.
Intrusive thoughts are a very real thing. Due to Kaori’s perpetual presence in my room, as well as Hanuki’s
aggressive advances, the shackles around my heart had loosened a little. In other words, it had become harder
for me to resist the spasms of loneliness that sometimes overtook me.
In my head I weighed Miss Higuchi and Kaori on a scale, for the moment putting aside the fact that
relationships were far too complicated to simply weigh against each other. For one thing, there was a vast
difference between “human being” and “humanoid doll”. Plus, I had already been acquainted with Miss Higuchi
for half a year, even if only through letters. And furthermore, Kaori was tainted with Ozu’s foul crimes. The scales
tipped heavily towards Miss Higuchi, and accordingly my heart, normally as placid as the Pacific Ocean, began
to tremble.
Consequently, I turned my steps towards the residence of Miss Higuchi, whom I had forbidden myself to meet
in the first place. I don’t know what came over me. But if I hadn’t decided to go to her home then, and pierce the
veil of mystery, I was sure that a far worse fate awaited me. It was impossible to decide which was the worse
poison.
As if pulled along by my longing for human company, I reached Shirakawa Street. The wide intersection at
Shirakawa and Imadegawa was filled with cars passing back and forth. The chilly breeze continued to blow,
augmenting my sense of isolation. The cherry trees lining the Philosopher’s Walk on the other side of the
intersection had shed their springtime glory, and now only their leaves remained in the dim twilight.
“I’m just going to see what kind of place she lives in. I’m not even going to meet her,” I mumbled
unconvincingly to myself.
And thus, I made my way towards that unseen, forbidden home of Miss Higuchi, White Garden Jōdoji.
 　　　　　　　○

Further south down Shirakawa Street, I located the Jōdoji bus stop, and from there started meandering
around the adjacent neighborhoods.
I had gotten her address from her letters, but not having looked it up on a map, I had to rely mostly on
intuition to find it. Without a precise destination in mind, I aimlessly wandered the gradually darkening streets. In
the back of my mind I wondered whether it might be better to not find it after all, and purposely avoided asking
anyone for directions. As I continued to walk the quiet neighborhood, thinking about the peaceful life Miss
Higuchi must lead in these streets made me feel a little better.
After half an hour of pointless wandering, I began to reflect on how ungentlemanly this all was. Perhaps it was
better to give up now and head home, as the sun had almost set, so it would be wise to head home soon. But at
that moment, I suddenly caught sight of White Garden Jōdoji.
The building was neatly tucked away, a large, white apartment building that looked as if it were made of
candy. The difference between it, and my own Shimogamo Yūsuisō, was like night and day.
But now that I had found out where she lived, I hadn’t the slightest clue what to do. I nonchalantly glanced at
the mailbox, but her name wasn’t listed. The front door was locked, so there was no getting inside, but I could
see the first floor corridor where she lived from across the fence. Her room number was 102, so it was probably
the second door from the left. As I stared at her closed door, the horror of the sins I was committing suddenly
came crashing down upon me, and I almost decided to flee before she saw me. Then again, since I knew she
wouldn’t recognize me either, my mind was completely torn.
As I stood there wavering between loneliness and self-loathing, the door to room 102 suddenly opened. I
almost ducked down to hide, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity that had suddenly presented itself before me.
I laid eyes upon Miss Higuchi.
The Miss Higuchi I saw then looked rather peculiar. Her face was gaunt and pale, like the face of a person
from the dark side of the moon, and just looking at her her sly, almost impish smile felt as if I was beckoning
misfortune to strike me. It looked just like Ozu’s face. They were like two peas in a pod. In fact, the only way it
could be this similar is if it were the actual face of Ozu.
The words “there is no God” silently formed on my lips.
There was no mistaking it.
It was Ozu.
Not sparing a glance in my direction, he walked out the front door and wheeled out the bicycle he called “Dark
Scorpion” from the bike rack.
Hidden in the shadow of a wall, I quivered like a lump of jelly as he rode off towards Shirakawa Street, a
mocking sneer on his face.
The apartment complex was definitely Miss Higuchi’s White Garden Jōdoji. Neither had I mistaken her room
number. Unlikely as it was, it was possible that she and Ozu were acquaintances. But were they so close that he
would visit her room? No, I wasn’t so foolish as to believe in such a coincidence. Even a god wouldn’t dream up
such a convoluted scheme.
Then, what other reason could there be?
 It suddenly dawned on me that Ozu had never told me where he lived. Here I was in Jōdoji. And two nights
ago, Hanuki had been telling me something in that bar in Kiyamachi.
“He lives in a studio in Jōdoji, like a little bit off Shirakawa Street in a building that looks like it’s made out of
candy...”
If what Hanuki said was true, then it was safe to conclude that White Garden Jōdoji, room 102 was Ozu’s
residence, which meant that Miss Higuchi lived in the exact same residence. Swallowing this bitter conclusion
took a lot of mental fortitude; it would take more than a spoonful of sugar for this medicine to go down.
Miss Higuchi Keiko did not exist.
For over half a year, I had been corresponding with Ozu.

　　　　　　　○

And so, my correspondence with Miss Higuchi came to an abrupt end.

There could be no crueler conclusion.
Through the darkened streets I reeled, stumbling past campus as I made my way home. The dark edifice of
the Yūsuisō loomed in front of me ominously, as if reflecting the stony darkness in my own heart.
I slid open the door and walked inside. In dimly lit corridors something was making a hissing sound. On
further inspection, it turned out to be a rice cooker that someone had plugged into one of the outlets in the hall. I
was in no mood to allow this minor theft of electricity, and I violently ripped the plug out, no doubt ruining
someone’s dinner, before retreating into my room, slamming the door behind me.
As usual, Kaori was seated in a corner of my dreary room, engrossed in her book. My dream of being with
Hanuki had ended, Miss Higuchi had never existed in the first place, and now the only future for me lay in silent
Kaori.
I picked up the castella Hanuki had given me, facing off against the rectangular pastry in the center of the 4½-
tatami room. Trying to forget it all—the softness of Hanuki’s breasts, the many letters I had exchanged with Miss
Higuchi—I decided to make this cake my dinner, and without even cutting it started to devour it.
“This is what you get for ignoring me,” Johnny sneered.
“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”
“Everything would have worked out if you had let me take care of things at Hanuki’s place. At least you
wouldn’t be shut up here in your little room again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, now all you have left is Kaori.”
“You—what are you thinking?”
“Come on now, you’re not still trying to keep up this ‘gentleman’ crap are you? Get over yourself, let’s just
have fun for once! I’m not even asking for a lot, not that I’m expecting a whole lot from you anyways.”
Johnny seemed to be planning on doing something vulgar to Kaori, and I was equally desperate to stop him.
If I gave in now, the honor I had saved by barricading myself in Hanuki’s bathroom would be forfeit. I couldn’t
allow myself to greedily lust after her unresisting form, like a predatory feudal lord in a period drama.
As Johnny and I continued to trade barbs, Kaori continued to quietly read.
“You never fail to disappoint, do you?” Johnny spat.
 “It’s not my fault, it’s Ozu!” I protested, continuing to eat the castella.
I slowly came to the realization that the very act of eating an entire castella by myself was doing nothing more
than driving me further into my own personal hell of anguish and isolation My face contorted as I chewed,
struggling to contain the fury welling up inside me. Damn Ozu. Considering what had happened with Hanuki and
Higuchi Keiko, it was clear that I was just dancing in the palm of his hand That miserable fiend. Where was the
fun in any of this? Then again, that was a foolish question to ask. Attempting to understand his behavior from the
perspective of a normal person was a fool’s errand. He was simply that type of person, someone who would eat
three meals a day of other people’s unhappiness. Now that I thought about it, he had been feasting happily off
me for the last two years.
I had always been dimly aware of this fact, but now it was crystal clear.
Ozu deserved to die.
I would grind him into instant coffee.
As I made up my mind, the ceiling of my room shook slightly.
Some sort of commotion was coming from upstairs, in Ozu’s Master’s room. I could make out the sounds of a
quarrel; someone was stamping their feet. The broken fluorescent light flickered as it swayed, and the moths
took flight in a panic, plunging my room into a phantasmagoria of alternating light and shadow. It was almost as if
I was in the midst of a tempest. As I paced around my room in a frenzy, I howled obscenities at Ozu, from banal
profanities to eschatological maledictions. Was I crying? Of course not, that’s absurd. I would never do such a
thing. I had plenty of reasons to do so, but I wouldn’t allow a single tear to fall until I had ground Ozu up. Johnny,
I think I’m going crazy.
“Well, looks like you’re done, eh? This is what you get for calling me an idiot and showboating with all that
gentleman crap. I’m done talking. You’re doomed to wander around this 4½-tatami prison with me for all of
eternity,” said Johnny, the one person who would never leave me. “Gentleman, idiot, it’s all the same in here.”
“I agree, this sucks.”
“Well then, even if she is a fake, we might as well have some fun with Kaori.”
Aye, there’s the rub that Johnny was leading me to.
I gazed at Kaori, leaning against the bookshelf reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Her silky
black hair framed her elegant face as she peered at the pages with limpid eyes. Love comes in many forms, but
when one wanders into such a claustrophobic maze as this, one is bound to lose one’s way, especially for a
person such as myself. Led into temptation by Johnny’s whispering and Kaori’s elegant demeanor, I wondered
whether throwing away what little pride I had left would be worth it.
Caught in the throes of my inner struggle, I reached out my hand and stroked Kaori’s hair.
At that moment, I heard the thunderous sounds of someone pounding down the stairs. I expected the sounds
to fade towards the front entrance, but instead they came down the corridor towards my room. As I wondered
what was going on, the door to my room was violently kicked open.
“You!”
A man burst into my room, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
As I later learned, this was Kaori’s owner, a man who was engaging Ozu’s Master in a mysterious conflict
called the “Masochistic Proxy-Proxy War”. His name was Jōgasaki.

　　　　　　　○
 The two of us should have found common ground against Ozu; however, our first meeting did not begin with a
harmonious handshake. Sparks flew as we engaged in a full-on fistfight. Since I was too proud to resort to brute
force, though, it was mostly a one-sided affair, with me on the receiving end.
I was battered into a corner, completely bewildered as to what was going on, while my favorite lucky cat
figurine was knocked off my TV. Johnny, who only a moment ago had been wriggling lustfully for Kaori,
screamed like a little girl and dived for cover. Certainly a shameful display of cowardice from my pride and joy.
Behind the figure that towered over me, Ozu’s yukata-wearing Master calmly stepped over the threshold. A
girl came puffing in behind him, shouldering him out of the way. I seemed to remember having seen her
somewhere before.
“Jōgasaki!” she snapped. “You can’t just come in fists flying like this!”
She helped me up. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about all this, it’s all a misunderstanding.”
Unused to having my door broken down and being savagely assaulted, I rose to my feet in my most dignified
manner, and held the damp handkerchief that she handed to me to my bruised jaw. The girl picked up my lucky
cat figurine and said, “I apologize for the sudden intrusion. My name is Akashi.”
“Jōgasaki, you’ve got it completely wrong,” Ozu’s Master said.
“He’s not part of it?” Jōgasaki asked suspiciously.
“Not at all. He was merely entrapped by Ozu,” replied Akashi.
“My bad,” Jōgasaki apologized, but he turned quickly to Kaori. He looked relieved to find her unharmed,
lovingly stretching out his arm to stroke her hair as if she was his own child. If I had done anything untoward…I
shuddered to think of what would have happened. Jōgasaki probably would have rolled me up in a bamboo mat
and tossed me into the Kamo River.
While Jōgasaki and Kaori were having their emotional reunion, Ozu’s Master plopped down on my chair as if
he owned the place and lit up a cigar, seemingly disinclined to explain what was going on. I was left completely
in the dark.

　　　　　　　○

“Seeing that Ozu has absconded for the time being, can we consider this all water under the bridge?” said the
Master. “Things were never supposed to go this far.”
“Well, since I did get Kaori back safely, I suppose no harm, no foul. But I’m going to have a talk with that punk
Ozu. I can’t believe he broke into my room, dude,” Jōgasaki said, rather forcefully. He seemed to be as angry as
I was.
“Ozu will be here soon enough. Boil him, mash him, stick him in a stew, though no matter how you slice him
I’m afraid you’ll find him quite inedible,” said the Master, rather irresponsibly.
“That’s right; Ozu started this, so he needs to answer for his actions,” Akashi declared.
Drinking in the situation, my fury at Ozu began to bubble up once more. It all took a deeper meaning now that
I had come face to face with Jōgasaki, who had also suffered greatly at the hands of Ozu.
“Ah, is that a castella?” the Master asked, looking greedily at the remnants of the castella I had been eating
by myself. I sliced off a bit of uneaten cake and gave to him, which he proceeded to devour with great gusto.
 Jōgasaki scowled at him.
“What a shitshow, man. I was so convinced he was my double agent.”
“How naïve. You really think Ozu is that straightforward?” Master Higuchi smiled and stood up. “Now, I think I
will return to my room.”
“Hold on, how am I supposed to bring Kaori back?” Jōgasaki objected.
“I believe Ozu borrowed a car from someone,” said Akashi.
“Unbelievable. Sorry dude, I’m gonna need you to hold on to her for a little while longer until I get a car.
Shouldn’t be any later than tonight,” Jōgasaki said to me, a little apologetically.
“Sure,” I nodded.
Ozu’s Master stepped out of my room and watched the entrance to the boarding house, still smoking his
cigar. After a while he called out.
“Ozu, over here, over here. Come here for a moment,” he beckoned.
Jōgasaki and I simultaneously leapt to our feet and clenched our fists, prepared to pulverize Ozu.
“Master, what are you doing in this pigsty?” He peered inside, but the moment he saw the two of us standing
there seething, he turned tail so quickly he almost fell over. His sixth sense for danger, as usual, was on point. In
his haste to escape, he kicked the rice cooker I had unplugged earlier. It tumbled down the hall, clanking noisily.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wailed as he sprinted down the hall. If he was going to apologize, then he shouldn’t
have done anything in the first place.
“Motherfuckerrrrrrr!” Jōgasaki and I bellowed as we pursued him. Akashi and the Master followed.

　　　　　　　○

When it came to running away, Ozu was world-class, and he shot through Shimogamo Izumigawa like a bat
out of hell. As fast as I ran, Jōgasaki gradually outpaced me, and I finally petered out as I passed the twinkling
lights of Shimogamo Saryō on my way towards to Demachiyanagi Station.
Akashi came riding up on a bicycle behind me.
“Let’s pincer Ozu at the Great Kamo Bridge. Please go to the west side of the bridge,” she said coolly. I
watched her admiringly as she rode off to encircle Ozu, tires screeching.
Trying not to be too pleased with myself for not having collapsed yet, I struggled on to Aoi Park. Ozu and
Jōgasaki must have turned towards Kawabata Street. Seeing the Kamo Delta right in front of me, I crossed the
Demachi Bridge to the west bank and panted as I made my way south on the embankment, finally reaching the
west end of the Great Kamo Bridge.
Dusk had already fallen, and the Kamo Delta was once again occupied by boisterous students. It was
probably a welcoming banquet for new students. Come to think of it, I had spent the past two years completely
avoiding such things.
The Kamo River was swollen due to the recent rains, its surface shimmering like gilded silver with the
reflections of the streetlamps that were flickering on one by one. Now that the day was fading, Imadegawa Street
was bustling and the Great Kamo Bridge was packed with the dazzling lights of passing cars. The orange lamps
that dotted the bridge burned mysteriously in the night. For some reason, tonight the bridge looked awfully wide.
 As I walked across the bridge, still trying to catch my breath, Ozu came sprinting towards me from the other
side. Akashi had successfully lured him in. I felt supremely satisfied at having outwitted him.
“Ozu!” I yelled, spreading my arms out. He came to a stop, with a wry smile on his face.
Jōgasaki came running up from the east end of the bridge, but he was gasping for breath as well. Akashi
followed close behind him. Ozu was pinned right in the middle of the bridge, with the Kamo River flowing by right
beneath us. Over to the south, beyond the murky stretches of the river, the far-off lights of Shijō Street blinked
and sparkled like gems.
“Help me, we’re friends, right?” he pleaded to me, clasping his hands.
“My humblest regards, Miss Higuchi. It was fun,” I sneered.
For a moment he tried to feign innocence, but he soon realized it was no use. “I didn’t mean anything by it,”
he cajoled. “It’s all just fun and games, isn’t it?”
“You played me for a fool. It’s no use. You’re dead.”
“You? Kill me? You wouldn’t!”
Jōgasaki and Akashi finally reached us.
“Ozu, we’re going to have a talk,” Jōgasaki said gravely.
Despite the fact that he was cornered, Ozu somehow managed to pull off a smile.
Suddenly he turned and leapt nimbly up to the guardrail. The lanterns that lined the bridge lit his face with an
orange glow from below, making him look ghastlier than I had seen him in a long time. For a moment it seemed
like he would fly off into the sky like a winged demon and make his escape.
“If you’re going to hurt me, then I’ll jump off the bridge!” he declared, rather unreasonably. “I’m not coming
down until you guarantee my safety!”
“You’re hardly in a position to bargain for your safety, you half-wit,” I said.
“Think about what you’ve done,” added Jōgasaki.
“Akashi, say something! I’m your mentor, you know!” Ozu cried in a wheedling tone, but Akashi just shrugged
and said, “I’ve got nothing.”
“Have I ever told you how attractive you are when you’re frank like that?”
“Flattering me won’t get you anywhere.”
Ozu inched towards the edge and spread his arms as if he was about to fly off into the night. “Fine, I’m going
to jump now!” he screamed.
“Fine, go ahead. Jump. It’s about time,” I said.
Just disappear into the river already. Then we’d both finally be able to have some peace and quiet.
“You’re not jumping, dude,” Jōgasaki scoffed. “You love yourself too much.”
“Yeah? I’ll show you!” Ozu vowed.
Yet for all his words, he just stood there.
As we stood there shouting back and forth, screams suddenly came from the Kamo Delta to the north. The
students at the party were in an uproar, running this way and that.
“What is that?” said Ozu, crouching down. Leaning over the handrail to look, I could make out what looked
like a dark cloud stretching from the Aoi Park forest to the delta. It buzzed loudly as it grew larger, enveloping the
entire delta. The people inside the cloud ran around frantically flapping their arms and batting at their heads. We
gazed at the scene, mesmerized, as the dark cloud began to creep over the surface of the water towards us.
 The noise from the delta began to become even more tumultuous. The cloud kept pouring out of the pine
trees. It was an incredible sight. Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter went the squirming cloud as it rolled towards us
like a carpet, rising above the water, billowing over the handrail and burying the Great Kamo Bridge like an
avalanche.
“GYEEEEEEEEEEE” Akashi shrieked.
It was a giant swarm of moths.

　　　　　　　○

The next day the moth plague made the front page, though nobody knew where the moths had come from.
By tracing their route, it appeared that the swarm had originated in the Tadasu Forest, that is to say, Shimogamo
Shrine, but many questions were left unanswered. For instance, there was no explanation for why all the moths
in the forest would simultaneously decide to migrate. There was an alternative rumor going around that the
moths had actually come from the neighboring Izumigawa town, but that explanation was even more confusing.
It appeared that the neighborhood around my boarding house had been inundated with moths for a brief while as
well.
When I returned later that night, the corridor was littered with moth corpses. I had forgotten to lock my door,
so my room was carpeted with them as well, but I reverently gathered the corpses and buried them.

　　　　　　　○

As moths thrummed around me, filling the air with glittering scales and occasionally attempting to force their
way into my mouth, I fought my way through the swarm to Akashi and gallantly shielded her from the worst of it.
Being originally from the city, I had formerly never had to coexist with bugs, but after two years in the boarding
house, I had become intimately acquainted with all sorts of arthropods.
Even so, the sheer number of moths that night was utterly overwhelming. The drone of beating wings cut us
off from the outside world, as if it were not moths but a swarm of winged imps passing over the bridge. It was
nearly impossible to see anything. What little I could see through my squinted eyes was limited to the moths
dancing in the orange light of the streetlamps, and Akashi’s shining black hair.
After a while the swarm moved on, leaving only a few stragglers flitting here and there. Akashi’s face was
ashen as she frantically brushed herself off all over, shrieking, “Are they on me? Are they on me?” before
sprinting away away from the writhing moths still dotting the ground with frightening swiftness towards the east
end of the bridge and collapsing to the ground in the soft light of a café.
The carpet of moths slowly rolled down the river towards Shijō.
I suddenly noticed Jōgasaki standing beside me, oblivious to the writhing moths entangled in his hair.
I looked around in the soft orange light of the lanterns illuminating the bridge.
As if he had made a grand escape borne on the wings of those moths, Ozu was nowhere to be seen.
“That dumbass really fell off,” Jōgasaki muttered, looking over the guardrail.
 　　　　　　　○

Jōgasaki and I descended down the embankments from the west side of the bridge. In front of us, the Kamo
River thundered by. It was so swollen and wide that the surrounding shrubbery was being pickled in the water.
We entered the water and approached the underside of the bridge; something seemed to be wriggling in the
shadows of the pillars. Ozu clung desperately like a discarded piece of trash, trying not to be swept away. The
water wasn’t too deep, but it was swift, and Jōgasaki was nearly swept off his feet. With some difficulty, we made
our way to Ozu.
“You moron!” I yelled while being drenched by the spray, but he simply laughed through his tears.
“C’mon, why don’t we just call it all water under the bridge?” he quipped.
“You don’t know when to shut up, dude,” Jōgasaki said.
“Yes, sir. My right leg really hurts a lot,” Ozu said meekly.
With help from Jōgasaki I raised Ozu to his feet. “Ow, ow, watch the leg!” he demanded ungratefully as we
dragged him to the shore. Akashi was also on the riverbank; though she had suffered a considerable shock from
the moths, she was sharp as always and had already called for an ambulance. Now she just sat on a bench
holding her pale face in her hands. We rolled Ozu like a log up the beach, then began to dry our clothes,
shivering with cold.
“It hurts, hurts. Help me,” he moaned.
“Oh, shut it. You’re the one that climbed on the railing to begin with,” I snapped. “The ambulance will be here
soon, so just deal with it a little longer.”
I glanced at Jōgasaki, who was kneeling beside Ozu, and had to swallow my anger. Of course, now that he
had broken his leg, even I wasn’t really thinking about dragging Ozu to Shimogamo Yūsuisō and grinding him up
into coffee.
Before long, Ozu’s Master ambled down the slope towards us. He had certainly taken his sweet time walking
over from Shimogamo Yūsuisō.
“Ah, I was wondering where you had all gone.”
“Ozu got himself hurt, Higuchi. It looks like a broken bone,” said Jōgasaki.
“What a miserable fellow,” observed the Master.
“But Master, I did all this for you,” Ozu cried piteously.
“Ozu, you show a lot of promise,” the Master said.
“Master, thank you very much!”
“But when I told you to break a leg, I didn’t mean it literally, you know. What an incorrigible fool.”
Ozu lay there sobbing.
After about five minutes the ambulance arrived at the Great Kamo Bridge.
Jōgasaki went up the embankment to fetch the EMTs, who promptly wrapped up Ozu in a blanket and set him
on a stretcher. I would have been overjoyed if they at that point threw him into the river, but being professionals,
they did not distinguish between their patients.
“I shall accompany Ozu,” said his master, climbing into the ambulance. The sirens soon faded away into the
distance.
Jōgasaki mentioned something about getting a car to pick up Kaori, seemingly having forgotten about Ozu
already, and departed the riverbank.
 At last, only Akashi and I were left. Akashi still had her face buried in her hands, as I shivered in my drenched
clothes.
“Are you alright?” I asked her.
“I really can’t stand moths,” she moaned.
“Well, would you like some coffee to calm down?”
I was certainly not making a craven attempt to take advantage of her fear of moths; I was simply concerned
by the lack of color in her face.
I bought canned coffee from a nearby vending machine and drank it together with her, and gradually color
returned to her face. I started talking about my troubles with Ozu, eventually coming to the events of the past few
days. But when I spoke of how angry I was with Ozu for inventing Miss Higuchi, and toying with my heart as he
had done, she unexpectedly apologized.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I had a hand in that as well. Ozu asked me to be a ghostwriter for him, you see.”
“What?”
“I read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, like you suggested.”
A wide smile appeared on her face.
“Your letters were very good. There were a lot of lies in there, but they were good nonetheless.”
“You noticed?”
“Then again, I was lying as well, so why don’t we call it even?” she said.
Suddenly, with a smile on her still-pale cheeks, she blurted out, “We met at the Shimogamo Shrine used book
fair, didn’t we? Do you remember?”

　　　　　　　○

That was one year ago, at the Shimogamo Shrine used book fair.
The horse-riding grounds run parallel to the shrine road. During the book fair they were crammed with tents,
filled with people trawling through for books. Since it was just a short stroll from Shimogamo Yūsuisō, I visited
almost every day.
That day, I basked in the summer atmosphere on the sprawling grounds, drinking ramune under the sunlight
filtering through the trees and browsing the rows of tents lined up around me. There were so many boxes filled
with musty tomes it made my head spin. A number of folding stools were set up in the field, occupied by people
who like me, appeared to be woozy from all the books stacked around them. I found a chair of my own and sat
down to take a breather. I took out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat beading on my brow in the sweltering
August heat.
In front of me was a shop called Gabi Used Books, and sitting on a metal folding chair in front of it was a girl
with her eyebrows knit as if deep in thought.
I stood up and began browsing through the bookshelves. I stood up and began browsing through the
bookshelves. When I glanced over and made eye contact with her, she bobbed her head slightly. I ended up
purchasing a copy of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. As I began to walk away, she ran
after me.
“Take this,” she said, offering me a fan inscribed with the words “Evening Breeze Used Book Fair”.
 Fanning my sweat-beaded face, I walked off into the Tadasu Forest, the book dangling from my hand.

　　　　　　　○

That night, Jōgasaki reclaimed Kaori, and the pair resumed their tranquil, loving lives together.
According to Ozu, Jōgasaki was popular with real girls as well, and had a series of relationships when Ozu
had been in the his circle. Looking at his handsome features, it wasn’t hard to imagine. What I couldn’t
understand was why someone with so many women to choose from would choose to devote himself to Kaori. He
had already been living with Kaori for two years, so he was pretty committed.
“Living with and cherishing a love doll is a very special thing. Real girls are a completely separate issue. It’s a
very refined sort of love, something a lowlife such as yourself who only sees a love doll as a sex toy could never
understand,” he snidely lectured.
Having lived with Kaori for four days, I could see where Jōgasaki was coming from, but that path was not one
a knave like me was meant to tread. In the end I would rather choose a raven-haired maiden, a living one.
Perhaps someone like Akashi.
Ozu’s Master continued to live on the second floor of Shimogamo Yūsuisō, and I would occasionally bump
into him. Always wearing his dark blue yukata, he serenely doddered around doing whatever he pleased like a
pensioner. Akashi often came to visit him.
“The Master always does as he pleases. That’s what makes him so grand... in his own fashion,” she declared.
The Master even extended me an offer to become his disciple, which I considered for a time.
Two things gave me pause. The first was that I hadn’t a clue what I would be a disciple of. The second was
that if I did become a disciple, I would become Ozu’s underling.
A few days earlier I had partaken of a hotpot in Higuchi’s room and ran into Hanuki there.
“Small world, huh?” she exclaimed.
I still didn’t know very much about the conflict between Jōgasaki and Higuchi, which was the whole reason
the Kaori kidnapping plot had occurred in the first place, even though kidnapping was apparently against the
rules. While Ozu was in the hospital, Akashi took up his mantle splendidly, sneaking over at night and converting
Jōgasaki’s bike into a five-wheeler.

　　　　　　　○

After this incident, I began to get closer to Akashi.

I guess you could say that there was a silver lining to Ozu’s wickedness after all, though that hardly meant all
was forgiven. Getting more material for OZU NEWS at the English conversation school was hardly a fair trade
for what I had gone through, though my classmates would surely listen appreciatively to this latest round of
gossip.
 To describe how the relationship between Akashi and I developed after that would deviate from the purpose of
this manuscript; consequently, I will refrain from recounting those events here. I am sure my readers would
rather not waste their time reading such contemptible stuff.
There is nothing more boring than telling a story of requited love.

　　　　　　　○

It is true that following this incident a number of changes entered my life; however, I would be vexed if that
were to be interpreted as a vindication of my actions. I am not so naive as to so easily overlook the mistakes of
the past. On occasion, I would consider magnanimously embracing my past self. Perhaps things would be
different if I were a young lady, but who would want to embrace a disgusting twenty-something man like myself?
Driven by this indignation, I refuse to absolve my past self of these sins.
I couldn’t shake off the feeling that choosing the Honwaka softball circle in front of that fateful clock tower that
day had been a mistake. What if I had chosen a different path? If I had chosen the Misogi movie circle, or
responded to that call for disciples, or even entered the secret society, my past two years certainly would have
been quite different. At least, it is plain my life would not have been as twisted as it is now. Perhaps that ever
elusive rosy student life would have been in my grasp. I could not bring myself to deny that the past two years
had been full of mistakes and missed opportunities.
Above all, my unfortunate mistake of meeting Ozu would surely haunt me for the rest of my life.

　　　　　　　○

Ozu was for a time admitted to a hospital beside campus.

It was quite delightful to see him strapped down to the white hospital bed. Owing to his already ghoulish
complexion, it appeared as if he had contracted some incurable disease, though in reality it was merely a broken
bone. In fact, he was probably lucky to get off with just a fracture. I sat there gloating as he grumbled about his
inability to partake in any of his usual wicked habits, but whenever I got tired of his bleating I stuffed a slice of
castella in his mouth to shut him up.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about sticking your nose into people’s business?” I said while stuffing my
cheeks with castella, but he shook his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What else would I do with myself?”
What an incurable character.
I demanded to know what was so interesting about toying with an innocent person like me.

　　　　　　　○

His customary youkai-like grin floated to his face.

“It’s how I show my love!”
“I don’t need that nasty stuff,” I replied.
 Final Chapter
Around the Tatami Galaxy in Eighty Days

In the two years before the spring of my junior year of college, I accomplished not a single thing of practical
use. Instead of building healthy relationships with the opposite sex, studying diligently, training my body, and
undertaking other activities directed towards becoming a productive member of society, I isolated myself from
women, abandoned my studies, and let my health fall to ruin. Yet, despite having struck out already, why is it that
I continued to labor away hoping for the pieces to fall into place?
I must inquire of the responsible party. Where is the culprit?
It is not that I have always been in this condition.
I was born pure as the driven snow and as charming as the infant Prince Genji; with nary an impure thought
in my head, my radiant smile spread the light of love across the hills and valleys of my hometown. I am doubtful
whether that is still the case today. Each time that I look in a mirror I fly into a rage, asking ‘Why have you
become like this? Is this the sum of your current existence?’
There are those who say that I am still young, and that people are things that may yet change.
How ridiculous.
It is said that the child is the father of the man. And with this year, another one will be added to my twenty, and
the end of my splendid quarter-century youth will soon approach. What outcome, then, would further clumsy
efforts to change my personality bring about? At this stage, if I attempt to twist something that has already set
and hardened, the most I’ll do is break it.
At this moment, I must pull myself upward into leading a respectable life. I must not avert my eyes from the
grim reality that lies before me.
And yet, somehow, it is unbearable to look.

　　　　　　　○

In the spring of my junior year, I shut myself in my 4½-tatami room.

It wasn’t the springtime blues, or that I had developed extreme social anxiety. I merely wished to isolate
myself from the outside world in this tranquil space and forge myself anew. I had put the past two years to utter
waste, ruining any prospect of a bright future, to say nothing of my grades. Now, facing an uncertain third year, I
found that university had nothing to offer me. I believed that whatever arduous training I undertook must take
place right here, in this 4½-tatami room.
Terayama Shūji once said, “Throw away your books and go out into the streets”.
But back then, I thought—Go out into the streets and do what?

　　　　　　　○
 This account, concerning the matter of the 4½-tatami room, was written to raise uncomfortable truths among
the general populace. Only a few days ago, I was trapped and forced to wander an endless maze of 4½-tatami
rooms, and during this time was compelled to ponder the nature of this matter until I wanted to jump off the
Kegon Waterfall.
I, who loved the 4½-tatami so much, embraced the title of “4½-Tatami Ideologue”. Everywhere I went, I
commanded respect and adoration; people turned their heads to watch me, and the raven-haired maidens
whispered among themselves whenever I passed by.
“That’s the famous 4½-Tatami Ideologue!”
“Wow, he’s so cool…”
But the day came when even the 4½-Tatami Ideologue had to leave his 4½-tatami nest.
What would drive out someone who was so steadfast in his devotion?
Those particulars are what I intend to speak of.

　　　　　　　○

The main cast of this manuscript consists solely of myself.

It’s quite depressing, but it’s mostly just me.

　　　　　　　○

It was the end of my third May in university.

I lived in a boarding house called Shimogamo Yūsuisō, which is located in Shimogamo Izumigawa. I had
heard that the place had burned down in the chaos at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, was rebuilt in exactly
the same fashion, and had not been renovated since. If it hadn’t been for the light leaking out of the windows,
one could be forgiven for mistaking it for an abandoned ruin. When I first visited this place during the co-op
association tour after orientation I couldn’t help but wonder if I had wandered into Kowloon Walled City. Just
looking at its crumbling wooden frame was enough to induce anxiety, and it was probably sufficiently dilapidated
that it could be placed on the list of Japan’s Important Cultural Properties. Yet if it were to burn down I doubt that
anyone would even bat an eye. Even the landlord who lives to the east would most certainly be relieved.
I still remember what happened the night before I embarked upon my adventure as if it was yesterday. I was
sitting alone in my residence in room 110 sullenly whiling away the hours, when unexpectedly Ozu came calling.
Ever since I had met him in freshman year, I had been inextricably entangled with him. I was too proud to
associate with lesser beings, so after quitting the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant secret society the only person
with whom I had regular contact was this odious imp. Though I detested him for besmirching my soul, I couldn’t
quite wash my hands of him.
Ozu often visited one Higuchi Shintaro, a resident of the second floor of Shimogamo Yūsuisō. He called this
person “Master”, and each time he came to visit, I could be sure he would show up on my doorstep as well.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he commented. “You don’t have a girlfriend, you don’t go to class,
you don’t have any friends, what on earth do you intend to do with your life?”
“You’d better watch your mouth or I’ll bash your skull in!”
 “Kill me? Would you really do that? That’s cruel of you,” he leered. “By the way, I came here two nights ago,
but you were out. You weren’t avoiding me, were you?”
“I was at a manga café that night, devoting myself to my studies.”
“I brought a girl named Kaori to meet you, but since you weren’t here I had to take her somewhere else. What
a shame.”
“I don’t need an introduction from the likes of you.”
“Come on, don’t sulk like that. Here, this is for you.”
“What’s this?”
“A castella. I got a lot from Master Higuchi, so I’m just spreading the wealth.”
“You’re actually giving someone a gift? I’m shocked.”
“Well, the way I see it, there’s nothing sadder than cutting up and eating a big castella like this all by your
lonesome. I just wanted you to taste true solitude.”
“Oh, I get it. Yeah, I’ll eat an extra helping just for you.”
“By the way, I heard from Hanuki. You were at the dentist the other day, weren’t you?”
“Hrm. What of it?”
“I bet your teeth are full of cavities.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. It was a much more serious condition.”
“Bull. According to Hanuki, only an idiot would let his teeth decay that much. She said your wisdom teeth are
halfway gone already.”
Ozu was still part of the secret society I had left behind; in fact, he had risen to a level with considerable
control. Besides that, it seemed that he had his hand in a number of other activities as well. Anyone else would
think to use all that energy for the good of society, but Ozu would start to complain about his aching joints if you
so much as mentioned the word “altruism” in front of him.
“Is this how your parents raised you to behave??” I demanded.
“It is a pearl from the Master’s teachings.”
“What kind of Master would say that?”
“It would take a lifetime to describe him. His is a truly profound existence.”
He yawned and stretched.
“The other day, the Master decided he wanted a seahorse, so I got a tank from the garbage dump and
brought it to him. But when we tried to fill it with water, it broke and all the water came gushing out. The Master’s
room got completely flooded.”
“Hold on, where’s his room?”
“It’s right above this one.”
I was suddenly seized with fury. Just recently, while I was out and about, my ceiling sprang a leak. When I
came back the trickling water had soaked all of my books, and the ink on the pages had run together into an
unintelligible mess. Not only that, but my computer was also destroyed, and every single electron that made up
my data was washed out to sea. Of course, this incident spelled the end of whatever academic comeback I
might have hoped to make. I had wanted to march up and lodge a furious protest, but decided that getting
entangled with the unidentified resident of the room above me was too troublesome, and in the end I left the
account unsettled.
“So that was your work?”
 “I’m sure the destruction of your porn library was no big deal,” he brazenly asserted.
“All right, get the hell out of my room. I have more important things to do.”
“I was already on my way. I’m going to the master’s place for blind hotpot tonight anyway.”
I kicked the smirking bastard out into the hallway and was at last able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Then, my thoughts began to drift back to the spring of my freshman year.

　　　　　　　○

At the time, I was still a sparkling freshman. The cherry trees had shed their flowers, clad now in an
invigorating verdant hue. Upon entering the university grounds, each first-year was immediately pressed with
club fliers, I with so many that they could not be processed by a single person. Among those sundry fliers, only
four caught my attention: Misogi Movie Circle, a mysterious call for disciples, Honwaka Softball Circle, and the
Lucky Cat Restaurant secret society. Each of these had its own air of suspicion, yet was its own doorway to a yet
unknown campus life, and I was filled with inquisitiveness, thinking that no matter which I chose a fascinating
future lay ahead. The only reason I thought this was because I was a hopeless fool.
After lectures, I directed my steps towards the university clock tower. It seemed that many circles were
holding new member information sessions in that vicinity.
Around the base of the clock tower milled throngs of freshmen, their faces still blushing with springs of hope,
as well as crafty circle members, eager to prey on those same hopes. Thinking that among these countless
circles lay an entrance to the phantasmic illusion of the entrance to a rosy student life, I wandered around in a
lightheaded daze.
It was there that I ran into Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant secret society. I thought it absurd that a secret
society would advertise itself as such so blatantly on a flier, but it was, as I learned afterwards, a real secret
society.
I was approached by the chief of the Library Police division, a man named Aijima. He wore glasses, which
automatically made him look clever, and outwardly he was quite welcoming, but for some reason I had the
impression that he wasn’t really being sincere.
Aijima took me to the law school courtyard and began to make his case. “It’ll be fun, and you’ll be able to
meet a lot of new people!” he wheedled.
I considered his offer. It was true that my social circle was exceedingly small. During the college years it was
important to mingle with the students that wriggled through the halls of this institution and broaden my horizons,
for it was through these repeated interactions that I would build the path to a shining future. I must admit that my
reasons for joining the secret society were not limited to practical considerations; I was intrigued by the mystique
of belonging to a secret society. I repeat: I was a hopeless fool.
What is the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant?
Its purpose is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, but of one thing I am certain: there probably is no purpose.
The Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant was simply a name for the tenebrous conglomeration of a number of
smaller organizations, the names and purposes of which defy belief.
The important ones, then: the print shop, which forces a stable of star students under house arrest to pump
out report after report for sale to other students in need; the Library Police, which enforces the collection of
overdue library materials; and the Cheery Bicycle Corps, which tends to the sacred duty of organizing bicycles
on campus. Of lesser importance were the school festival planning secretariat, the Eizan Electric Railway
Research Society, the Pillow Talk Youth Commission, the Sophistry Discussion Group, and a number of other
clubs, research groups, and even cults.
It was generally held that from a historical standpoint, the origins of the secret society lay in the print shop;
thus, the chief of the print shop commanded the entire society. Though it was unclear whether such a person
actually existed, there were many theories. Some people held that it was a young raven-haired maiden, others
that it was actually an elderly law school professor, and others still that it was a lecherous masked freak who had
been roosting under the clock tower for twenty years. At any rate, I was merely a minion in the Library Police
who would never have the opportunity to come into contact with this person.
At Aijima’s invitation, I joined the Library Police. “For the time being, you’ll be working with him,” he told me,
pointing at an eerie fellow of ill portent standing underneath the cherry blossoms in the law school courtyard. For
a moment, I thought it was a hellish apparition that only I could see.
That was my first meeting with Ozu.

　　　　　　　○

There’s a famous novel about an ordinary man who wakes up one day to find that he has turned into a giant
insect. My own metamorphosis was not that dramatic. I woke up as the same old me, in the same squalid room
that I had gone to bed in the previous day. Then again, some might not see a difference between me and a giant
insect to begin with.
The hour hand on my clock pointed to six, but it impossible to tell whether it was morning or evening. I
pondered the matter while lying in my futon, but I had no clue how long I had slept.
I wriggled around for a bit before sluggishly rising from the bed.
All was quiet.
I brewed some coffee and ate a bit of castella. After finishing my primitive breakfast, I felt an urgent pressure
on my bladder and got up to head to the communal restrooms near the entrance of the boarding house.
Opening the door of my room, I stepped onto a tatami mat.
How strange.
I looked over my shoulder. My chaotic 4½-tatami room was right there. But on the other side of the door in
front of me, I could see an equally chaotic, completely identical room. It was as if I was looking into a mirror.
I passed through the door into the other room. Without a doubt, it was my room. The feel of the tatami mats
when I lay down, the crowded bookshelves, the broken television, the writing desk I had been using since I was
in elementary school, the dust-covered sink—it was all familiar to me.
I returned through the doorway, only to be met with the same sight. Through long years of zealous training, I
had learned to control my emotions and keep a level head, but even I was not prepared to deal with the
abnormality of my room cloning itself.
Now that it was impossible to exit through the door, the only option was the window.
 Drawing open the usually permanently closed curtain, I could see the light of a fluorescent lamp through the
frosted glass. I threw open the window and gazed upon the sight of my own room. Gingerly stepping across the
window frame, I examined the furnishings of that room, only to come to the same conclusion.
I returned to my original room and smoked a cigarette to try to calm down.
Thus, I embarked upon my eighty day expedition through that 4½-tatami galaxy.

　　　　　　　○

My odyssey took place in a number of basically identical 4½-tatami rooms. I would therefore like my readers
to have a clear image of what this room is like before I proceed.
First, to the north is a door, about as flimsy as an infant’s teething biscuit. It’s still covered with a lively
assortment of raunchy stickers from the previous resident of this room.
Beside the door is an absolutely filthy sink and countertop, filled with hair styling products, a portable
stovetop, and all manner of rubbish. It’s guaranteed to put off even the most determined chef. I vehemently
refused to try my hand at cooking in this dismal kitchen, clinging to the old adage that a man’s place is not in the
kitchen.
Most of the north wall is taken up by a closet strewn with drab clothes, unread books, papers that I can’t bring
myself to throw away, and an electric heater to keep the icy fingers of winter at bay, among other odds and ends.
My personal reading material is also hidden there.
The east wall is taken up by by bookshelves, besides which are a vacuum cleaner and a rice cooker, neither
of which I feel much inclined to use.
To the south, there is a window, with the cherished desk I have been using since elementary school
occupying the space beneath. I rarely open the drawers, and have long since forgotten what lies within them.
The space between the bookshelves and my desk is a no-man’s-land, where junk that has nowhere else to
go is tossed; I refer to it as an exile to Siberia. I had always known that someday I would have to make a
complete survey of that chasm, but somehow could never work up the courage to venture in. If I were to ever go
in, the chances of me ever escaping with my life would be exceedingly slim.
On the west side, there is a broken TV and a small refrigerator.
And thus we return to the north wall.
It only takes a few seconds to go around the entire room, but it has come to feel like an extension of myself.

　　　　　　　○

Why did I choose a 4½-tatami room in the first place?

I once knew a person who lived in a 3-tatami room, but he was even more aloof than me and refused to go to
class, instead spending his days absorbed in Heidegger’s Being and Time. He was so obstinate in his
convictions, and became so withdrawn and set against the world, that last year his parents had to come and take
him home.
 2-tatami rooms certainly exist within Kyoto. Unbelievable as it may sound, near Jōdoji there are rooms that
consist of two tatami joined end-to-end. If you were to sleep in one of these hallway-like rooms, there’s no doubt
that your body would begin to stretch out.
There’s a frightening rumor on the street that there was a student who saw rooms consisting of a single
tatami in a certain lodging house near Kitashirakawa’s Baptist Hospital, but the student mysteriously
disappeared a few days later, and one by one his friends all came to untimely ends.
And then there is the 4½-tatami room.
Compared to 1, 2, or 3-tatami rooms, 4½-tatami rooms are elegantly organized. You can lay out three tatami
side-by-side, and then lay a fourth across the ends of the three. The remaining space is filled by the remaining
half tatami, creating an invigorating square. Beautiful, isn’t it? Two tatami can also make up a square, but the
resulting space would be exceedingly cramped. On the other hand, if you were to make a larger square, it would
become as spacious as Takeda Shingen’s lavatory, and you would need to navigate it carefully lest some
disaster befall you.
After entering university, I became an ardent champion of the 4½-tatami room.
7, 8, and even 10-tatami rooms exist, but can the people who reside therein truly say that they are fit to
control such a space? Do they know each and every distant corner like the back of their hand? With great power
comes great responsibility. We humans are capable of controlling rooms no larger than 4½-tatami, and those
brazen enough to hunger for more will one day be met by a fearsome insurrection from some corner of the room
—this I firmly believed.

　　　　　　　○

My journey through the 4½-tatami galaxy was about to begin, but I would not rush off just yet. I analyzed the
situation over and over and over, slowly coming up with the perfect strategy. Admittedly, I was the type of person
to overanalyze things until the opportunity had already passed.
Sitting in the original room, I pondered my next course of action.
A respectable person would not lose his cool, no matter what situation he was in. After some thoughtful
deliberation, I picked up an empty beer bottle that Ozu had left here a fortnight earlier. After relieving my bladder
in it, I felt much better.
Panicking would not get me anywhere. Since I had nominally become a third year student, I had spent most
of my time here in this room. How hypocritical it was of me to want to escape this room, when I had previously
gone to such great lengths to avoid going outside. As long as I was not in danger, I had no reason to leave.
Perhaps the situation would resolve itself if I simply settled down and waited.
I leisurely perused my copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and let my mind be transported to
that distant undersea world. After I tired of that, I took out a volume from my personal reading materials, grasped
the proper instruments, and transported myself again, this time to the world of the somatic. After a period of
determined effort, I tired of this as well.
It occurred to me to turn on the television, but it had never been in good shape. The image on the screen
revolved like a pinwheel in a hurricane, so unless you were a master of Magic Eye pictures it was impossible to
tell what was being displayed. I stared at the screen until my vision was spinning. If I had known that this all this
was going to happen, I would have gotten the TV fixed sooner.
Eventually the hands of the clock made a full revolution. As I heated up some leftover bits of fish patty, it
occurred to me that all I had left was the castella. There was also a bit of daikon, but I decided to leave that
alone for now. Before I went to sleep I checked the other side of the window and door just in case, but as before
I only saw the same 4½-tatami rooms. I flopped onto my futon and stared at the ceiling. Why had I become
trapped in this world?
There was one hypothesis I could come up with—the curse of the Kiyamachi fortune teller.

　　　　　　　○

A few days ago, I had gone to Kiyamachi to to kill some time. After browsing through Gabi Used Books, I
began to wander the streets. That was where I met the fortune teller.
In between the bars and brothels, a dark, squeezed sort of house stood in the shadows. Under the overhang
an old woman sat at a wooden stall covered by a white cloth. She looked like a fortune teller. The sign hanging
off the front of the stall was inscribed with all manner of arcane, incomprehensible runes. Above it the hag’s head
floated in the gloom, lit only by the hazy orange light of a small lantern. It was a ghastly sight, like seeing a
ravenous ghost hungering for the souls of passersby. I began to imagine all manner of misfortune befalling me:
the shadow of the old woman seemed to follow me everywhere I went; nothing I did went right; people I was
expecting never showed up; possessions vanished, never to be seen again; I failed courses that should have
been a cinch; a thesis that I was about to present spontaneously combusted; I fell into the canals of Lake Biwa; I
was caught by a snake-oil salesman on Shijō Street; and so forth. While these wild thoughts were going through
my head, the old woman noticed me looking at her. She glared at me from the inky darkness with gleaming eyes,
drawing me in with her otherworldly emanations. Her suspicious aura was strangely persuasive, and logically
thinking I came to the conclusion that the divinations of someone who allowed her supernatural aura to flow so
freely could not possibly be wrong.
In my twenty-odd years of life, there had been but a handful of times where I humbly took someone’s advice.
What if that was the reason I was stuck on this thorny path, unable to move forward? Though I took few risks in
life, wasn’t there a possibility that I could choose the thorn-lined path? If only I had chosen to stop relying on my
own judgment earlier, I wouldn’t have been bullied around in the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant secret society
and been driven to barricade myself in my room, nor would I have met the twisted Ozu. Rather, I would have
been blessed with wonderful mentors and friends, become accomplished in all the arts and sciences, of course
have a beautiful raven-haired maiden at my side, face a glittering golden future ahead of me, and perhaps even
have that all-important rosy student life in the palm of my hand. That was the kind of life suited for someone like
myself.
That’s right. It wasn’t too late. The sooner I took a third-party’s objective advice, the sooner I could escape
this dreary life into the life that I was meant to live.
I moved my legs toward the old woman as if I was being sucked in by her supernatural aura.
“Boy, what is it that you wish to hear?”
 The old woman mumbled her words like her mouth was full of cotton, giving the impression that they were all
the more valuable.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure how to begin...”
Seeing me at a loss for words, she grinned.
“I can see from your face that you are very frustrated, unsatisfied. You are not able to use your full talents;
your current situation is not suited for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!”
“Show me your hands.”
The old hag took my palms and peered into them, nodding approvingly.
“You have much earnest talent in you.”
I quickly tipped my hat to her keen insight. A true master hides his skills, and I had hidden my talents for so
long that even I didn’t realize I had them any more. For this old woman to sense those talents within five minutes
of meeting me must mean that she was no ordinary person.
“It is essential that you not let opportunities slip away. An opportunity is nothing more than a favorable
circumstance, you understand? But it’s difficult to take hold of opportunities. Sometimes they hide in places you
don’t expect, and sometimes it is only later that you realize something that seemed like an opportunity was really
nothing at all. But in order to seize an opportunity you must act. You look like you will have a long life, so sooner
or later you will be have the chance.”
As befitting her aura, her words were truly profound.
“I don’t want to wait forever; I want grab my opportunity now. Can you be a little more specific?”
At my probing, the wrinkles on the old woman’s face contorted even further. I thought her right cheek must be
itchy or something, but it turned out that she was just smiling.
“It’s hard to be specific about the future. Even if I were to tell you about a precise opportunity, it might very
well be twisted and warped by the machinations of fate until it was no longer a opportunity when you chanced
upon it, and that would just be a disservice to you, wouldn’t it? Fate is something that changes from moment to
moment, you see.”
“But, everything you’ve told me is too vague to act on.”
As I stood there in confusion, she exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Very well. I will refrain from speaking of things far ahead, but I can speak of things that will soon come to
pass.
I widened my ears like Dumbo.
“Colosseum,” she suddenly whispered.
“Colosseum? What’s that?”
“It is the sign of an opportunity. When an opportunity arrives, it will be accompanied by Colosseum,” she
intoned.
“So are you telling me I need to go to Rome?”
But the old woman merely grinned.
“When your opportunity comes, you mustn’t let it slip away, you mustn’t fumble around aimlessly as you have
been doing. Seize it, boldly, daringly! If you do, you will no longer be unsatisfied, and be able to embark on a
new path, though that path may hold hardships of its own. Then again, I expect that you understand this quite
well.”
 I didn’t understand in the slightest, but I nodded anyway.
“Even if you don’t catch this one, you don’t need to worry. You are a splendid young man, so someday without
a doubt you will make it. I can see it. There’s no need to rush.”
With that, the old woman brought her divinations to an end.
“Thank you very much.”
I nodded and paid the fee.
Then, like a lost lamb, I turned and wandered back into the crowds of Kiyamachi.
I would like you to take the fortune teller’s prediction to heart.

　　　　　　　○

Maybe this situation was brought about by that old woman’s curse. If that was the case, then perhaps the key
to breaking this dreadful spell lay in this ‘Colosseum’. I resolved not to sleep until I had gotten to the bottom of
this mystery, but before I knew it I had drifted off into peaceful slumber.
When I woke, the hour hand was pointing to twelve.
I rose and pulled aside the curtains.
I was met with neither the blinding light of day, nor the inky darkness of night. Instead, I merely saw the pale
light of the fluorescent lamp in the other room. I had hoped that something would change if I went to sleep, but
the situation was exactly the same. Opening the door met with the same results as before.
For the convenience of my readers, I will label my original room Room 0. The room on the other side of the
door is Room 1, and the room that lies through the window I shall designate Room -1.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the room and listened to the soft burbling of the coffeemaker. Of course, I
had gotten hungry once again. The castella was already gone, as was the last of the fish patties. I checked
inside my refrigerator, hoping that something had magically appeared inside, but all that was left were some
daikon, soy sauce, and spices. It was bereft of even that college staple, instant ramen. This was my reward for
relying on a convenience store diet.
I boiled the daikon and ate it, liberally sprinkled with soy sauce and shichimi togarashi, capping the meal off
with a cup of coffee.
After only two days, I was out of food; all I had left was coffee and cigarettes. No matter how liberally I used
these to stave off my pangs of hunger, my ribs would eventually start poking through my skin. I would starve to
death alone, and my rotting corpse would adorn this godforsaken place for all eternity.
I sat in a corner with my head in my hands and attempted to use sheer willpower to get through the day, but
no amount of willpower could mask the rumbling sounds coming from my stomach. With no other recourse, I
worked out a plan to solve my food problem.

　　　　　　　○

College students are filthy animals. When you think about filth, you think about mushrooms. I figured that I
could eat the mushrooms that were probably growing in the back of my closet. But after I pulled out the porn,
cardboard, and smelly clothes, I discovered it to be an arid place, not suitable for growing mushrooms. Perhaps I
could spread out my clothes on the floor, sprinkle them with water, and cultivate mushrooms that way. But I
decided that if it came down to subsisting off mushrooms which themselves fed off my own dirty clothes, I would
rather choose an honorable death by starvation.
I also thought of boiling the tatami mats and eating them; there was probably enough of my bodily fluids
soaked into them that they had nutritional value. But they had too much fiber. It was clear that if I ate them, my
bowel movements would become like the swiftly flowing canals of Lake Biwa, and I would be hastened to an
untimely end.
A moth had been sitting in a corner of the ceiling for the last few days, unmoving. Perhaps I could derive
some protein by consuming it. Even an insect was still an animal. If I were ever to be stranded on a mountain, I
would simply hunt for caterpillars and worms to roast and eat. However, I would rather lick up dust in the corner
of the room than consume this foul thing covered with scales.
It would be a grand sort of survival if I had to chop off my excess body parts and eat them, but since my body
was extremely streamlined and fuel-efficient, about the only excess meat I had on me was my earlobes. I was
about as edible as a sparrow—all bones—and besides, I would rather not be talked about as “the boy who lived
by eating his earlobes”.
I fished around the space between the TV and my desk and found a bottle of whisky. About half a year ago,
Ozu and I had bought it for a bout of drunken revelry, but it was a little too harsh for me, and had lain there ever
since, half-empty. In these desperate times, even the few nutrients this cheap whisky contained were valuable. I
also found some expired vitamins in a medicine box in the closet.
Since I was too proud to eat cultivated mushrooms, the tatami mats, the moth, or my earlobes, all I had left to
live on was whisky, vitamins, coffee, and cigarettes. I was like Robinson Crusoe, washed up on this uninhabited
4½-tatami shore. At least he had a gun to hunt with, but all I had was this moth. Nevertheless, I at least had
running water, and furniture, and didn’t have to worry about being attacked by wild animals. It was a little
ambiguous as to whether this actually counted as “survival”.
I spent that day rereading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, defiantly taunting whatever merciless
god was watching me from afar. Since I couldn’t see the sun, it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night,
so I was unsure how accurate the attempts I made to demarcate each day from the next actually were.
When I closed the door and drew the curtains, it felt just like any other day, and I half-expected Ozu to come
bursting through the door to stir up another ruckus.
The single bright side amidst all this misfortune was the fact that I had gotten my wisdom teeth pulled two
weeks earlier. If I hadn’t, I would probably be crying out for a dentist, and might even have collapsed and died.
The teeth I had gotten pulled at Kubozuka Dental Clinic still adorned the top of my desk.

　　　　　　　○

Near the end of April my jaw had started to hurt so much that I couldn’t even sleep at night.
I self-diagnosed the pain as a temporomandibular disorder, brought on by stress. Considering the fact that I
was as delicate as a dandelion, and the toll that my ascetic pursuit of enlightenment had taken on my body, I
would have expected this to happen sooner rather than later. All was as it should be. In that moment, I was
euphoric, knowing that this was a trial that only the chosen few would have the privilege to undergo, and fell
down on the floor of my room in an ecstatic delirium.
“Don’t be silly, what could you possibly be stressed about,” Ozu said, looking at me distastefully. “You just sit
on your ass all day, now that you’ve quit the society.”
Certainly, to everyone else it seemed like I did nothing, but I insisted that I experienced unbearable stress
each day from pondering these thankless questions on my journey of self-discovery. The pain in my jaw was
proof enough of that.
“That’s definitely just a cavity,” Ozu bluntly told me.
“No it’s not, that’s ridiculous! It’s not my tooth that hurts, it’s my jaw.”
Seeing me continue to writhe in agony, Ozu referred me to Kubozuka Dental Clinic, mentioning that a
beautiful hygienist called Hanuki worked there. But I refused. My life thus far had not been the most eventful, but
I had overcome enough adversity to consider myself versed in the ways of the world. Even so, I retained a
healthy fear of dentists.
“You’ll never get me in that chair.”
“Even if you’ll get to have a beautiful woman stick her fingers in your mouth? You should be thanking me. I’ll
bet you’ve never had the chance to lick a woman’s fingers before in your life, and you never will again. You
should take advantage of your cavity while you can; this opportunity comes once in a lifetime.”
“Don’t lump me in with the likes of yourself. I wouldn’t want to lick someone’s fingers anyways.”
“You fluting liar!”
“That makes me sound like an orchestra, idiot. Say it right: fucking.”
“Whatever, just make sure to go!”
He seemed to be rather passionate about this.
One night, the pain suddenly spread to my teeth, which started throbbing, as if a troupe of fairies had
gathered in my mouth for some kind of Cossack dance-off. I had no choice but to take Ozu’s advice.
It turned out that the pain wasn’t due to my body’s fragility, or to my intense meditative practices: it was
because of a cavity in my wisdom tooth. As much as it pained me, I had to admit that Ozu’s deduction had been
correct. After leaving the secret society, I hardly had any human contact at all, and as a result, my dental habits
suffered as well.
The prospect of tasting a woman’s fingers was not enough to entice me, I assure you, but it was true that
Hanuki herself was a beauty. I would guess she was in her late twenties. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun,
making her already dignified figure look even more imposing, like the wife of a Sengoku-era military commander.
Her dark eyebrows were knit in concentration as she skillfully wielded a terrifying, whirring instrument to adroitly
scraping the tartar from my teeth. I was in awe of her calm, imperturbable demeanor.
After the procedure was done, I told her that Ozu had referred me here. She seemed quite familiar with him,
chuckling “He’s so funny, right?” Then, she carefully handed me my tooth, swaddled up in cotton as though it
were a newborn baby.
I folded the tooth up in a tissue and enshrined it on my desk, staring at it every day. For some reason, I could
never bring myself to throw it away.

　　　　　　　○
 Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was still skeptical, convinced that this was all just a dream.
But after three days, there was still a 4½-tatami room sitting beyond the door, and another one through the
window. Even I couldn’t just sit there reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea any longer. I was
scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as food was concerned, and I was running out of cigarettes as well. I had
been hoping to avoid any reactionary activity to preserve my pride, but my honor wouldn’t mean much if I was
dead.
After the last dregs of my coffee drained into my empty belly, I slowly lapped at a dish of soy sauce, hoping to
distract myself from my hunger.
Touching upon a more intimate topic (not that there was much for me to be embarrassed about at this point), I
couldn’t ignore the call of nature, even on a subsistence diet. I had devised an ingenious system where liquid
waste went into a beer bottle, and when the bottle got full I would simply dump it down the sink. The brown stuff,
however, was another matter.
I pushed open the door to Room 1, my bowels straining. There was a window in this room as well, and with
my fingers crossed, I opened it to find that it continued on to Room 2. Going back to the original room, I crossed
through window to Room -1 and opened the door in that room, finding that it continued to Room -2 as well.
Exactly how far did this go on?
But I had more pressing issues to attend to. After considering how best to proceed, I laid out some
newspapers on the tatami mats, took care of business, then gingerly placed the lot in a plastic bag and tied it up.
Now that the danger had passed, I began to think once again about my shortage of food and tobacco. As
things stood, I would have to come up with a solution on my own. Whatever sort of world this was, I could only
rely on myself.

　　　　　　　○

The way I solved both of those problems was as follows.

I entered Room 1.
The room on the other side of the door was unquestionably my own: therefore, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as
such.
Setting foot into the room, I spotted a box of cigarettes. Next, I spotted a fish patty and castella, things I had
thought I would never see again. I also found the daikon. I immediately grilled the fish patty, liberally sprinkled it
with pepper, and proceeded to savor the wonderful flavor of animal protein for the first time in three days. I had
never eaten such a delicious fish patty before. For dessert, I carved off a slice of castella. As energy flowed
through my body, it felt as if I had been brought back to life.
I looked through the window into Room 2. It struck me that the door in Room 2 probably continued on to
Room 3, which continued on to Room 4, and on and on into infinity. What an awfully miserly infinite world this
was. I now lived in a boarding house larger than the entire world.
Initially I fell into despair, but the more I thought about it, the more fortunate it seemed. Even if I ate all the
food in a room, I could simply move to the next one to find another fish patty and castella waiting for me.
Unbalanced a diet though it was, for the time being I wouldn’t have to worry about starving.
 I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was sustaining myself off the castella I had received from Ozu. For two years, I
had unsuccessfully attempted to sever the ties that had bound me to him ever since our unfortunate meeting that
spring day, but this was the first time that he had actually been of some use.

　　　　　　　○

A year and a half after I entered university, my tenure with the Library Police came to an end.
As I have previously discussed, the purpose of the organization known as the Library Police is to track down
those insolent urchins who fail to return their borrowed library materials, and forcibly retrieve said materials. If
necessary, we would resort to brutality to achieve our ends, though invariably, brutality was the choice of first and
only resort. Why the Library Police shouldered such a burden, and how they were related to the school
administration—these are questions that you should not pursue, lest you befall some unfortunate accident.
Besides the retrieval of library property, the Library Police is charged with one additional task: to gather an
exhaustive dossier on marked individuals, and use that information to various ends. Originally, this information
gathering was used to retrieve books. To track down where a target is at any given moment, his behavioral
patterns must be observed; to coerce an unwilling target into surrendering his materials once he is cornered,
knowledge of his vulnerabilities is essential. But as the archives continued to grow, the organization was
seduced by the power of all this knowledge. The Library Police had abandoned its original rationale for
information gathering and begun to expand decades before I joined. Along with the campus itself, The Library
Police intelligence network stretched its tendrils over everything in Kyoto, from Ōharazenin in the north to
Byōdōin Hō-ōdō in Uji city in the south.
For illustrative purposes, let us say that the Library Police chief learned that one of his subordinates, Mr. A
(twenty-one years old), was going out with Ms. B (twenty years old), and for his own amusement decided to
break up their relationship. At a snap of his fingers, he could obtain whatever intel he wanted about them, such
as—“Mr. A is going out with Ms. B, but he’s actually having a fling with Ms. C from the tennis circle, whose
grades are jeopardizing her chances of graduation”. Using that information, he would easily able to remotely
control Ms. C and deal a fatal blow to the relationship between Mr. A and Ms. B.
The Library Police was the only organization that could stand up to the colossal power of the print shop,
which was derived by selling masses of forged reports. Since the print shop chief’s true identity was shrouded in
mystery, the Library Police chief was often considered to be the de facto leader of the entire Lucky Cat Chinese
Restaurant secret society, which was a perfectly reasonable assumption.
At the time, I was merely an underling with no acquaintance whatsoever with the chief.
As an underling, my task was simply to retrieve library materials. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very good at this job;
I would often end up being bamboozled by the silver tongues of my targets, or even hitting it off and going out to
drink with them. I took to the job like a duck to lava, and the only reason I was able to achieve results was
because of Ozu.
Ozu was a master of dirty tricks, and he made use of every one of them in the course of his work: stakeouts,
crocodile tears, deception, extortion, ambushes, and even theft. Of course, his standing in the organization
began to rise, and because I was his partner, so did mine. I found this all a great nuisance, especially because I
was beginning to have my doubts about the Library Police.
 Ozu was already interested in collecting information, and so he used his mysterious connections to secure his
place as Aijima’s right-hand man.
As we entered our second year, Aijima assumed the mantle of Library Police chief, and promoted Ozu and
me to executive positions. Surprisingly, Ozu turned the offer down, and instead moved to the print shop.
Reluctantly, I accepted the position, though with zero motivation I spent my days slacking off, and soon became
a manager only in name.
Aijima was disgusted with me, and soon began to ignore me like I was a pebble on the side of the road.

　　　　　　　○

During my tenure in the Library Police, I became acquainted with a rather odd fellow.
The winter of my first year, I was assigned to retrieve a biography which was over half a year overdue. The
target’s name was Higuchi Shintaro, codename Kannazuki, and he lived on the second floor of my very own
Shimogamo Yūsuisō. He was a strange individual, in that he didn’t seem like a student at all, and yet I didn’t
think he was a fully-fledged adult either. I could never tell if he was in his room or not, because if he was, he
rarely showed his face. Once, I barged in, absolutely certain that he was inside, but all I found was a duck
aimlessly wandering about the room and nary a trace of my target. He always wore a threadbare dark blue
yukata, with a sprinkling of unshaven stubble on his eggplant-shaped face. His eccentric appearance always
made it easy to find out where he had been, but trying to contact him directly was like trying to catch smoke.
Many times I just lost sight of him in Shimogamo Shrine or the Demachi arcade.
One night, I finally caught him at Neko Ramen.
“You’ve been stalking me for a while, haven’t you?” he smiled. “I’ve been thinking about returning it, but I’m a
slow reader, you see.”
“Well, the due date was a long time ago…”
“Yes, I know. It’s time for me to give it up.”
We slurped our ramen in silence.
I didn’t let him out of my sight all the way back to Shimogamo Yūsuisō. “I need to use the bathroom,” he said
once we arrived, stepping into the communal lavatory. I waited for some time, but he didn’t come out. Growing
impatient, I looked inside, but the room was deserted. I ran up to the second floor, and just like magic, there was
light shining through the window above his door.
I pounded on his door, shouting his name, but there was no response. He was making a complete fool out of
me. While I raged outside in the hallway, my then-partner Ozu arrived.
“Begging your pardon, this is my Master’s room,” he said. “How about you let it slide this time?”
“Like hell I will!”
“It’s no use. Once he’s borrowed something, it’s lost forever.”
If even Ozu said it was impossible, then I had no choice but to throw in the towel. I had no clue what kind of
Master this was, but if someone like Ozu was his disciple, there was no way he was any sort of decent one.
“Master, good evening. I have an offering for you.”
Ozu entered the room and turned back to look at me. “Sorry,” he said with a grin, before closing the door in
my face.
 　　　　　　　○

I had been puttering around between Room -3 and Room 3 for about two days, and still there had been no
improvement in the situation.
For the time being, I tried to keep myself busy. To keep fit, I strained through pushups and what I imagined
were Hindu squats. I downed basins of coffee, and stuffed myself with castellas, while devising new ways to
prepare fish burgers and daikon. I reread the description of the magnificent food in Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea over and over until I began to drool.
I had always enjoyed the seclusion of this 4½-tatami room, but that had been because I knew that I could
leave whenever I wanted. Once I opened the door, I would be greeted with the filthy hallway, and past that was
the filthy bathroom, the filthy shoe rack, and finally, the exit from this filthy boarding house. It was precisely
because I could leave whenever I wanted to that I never did.
Eventually the realization that I was confined to this 4½-tatami space started to weigh heavily on me, and
compounded with the lack of calcium from my diet, my mood began to take a turn for the worse. No matter how
long I waited, nothing would change. I had no other choice: the only thing left for me to do was set off on a
journey to the ends of this 4½-tatami world, solve this mystery, and if possible, find a way to escape.
At six o’clock about a week after my imprisonment in this wasteland had begun, still not knowing whether it
was morning or night, I set off on my expedition.
From Room 0, I had to choose whether to go through the door or through the window.
I decided to go through the door. In other words, I would be moving through Room 1, Room 2, and so on, for
as far as this path would take me.
Despite the fact that I was literally embarking on a journey to the ends of the earth, I didn’t have to muster up
as much courage as such an odyssey would normally warrant, since I would just be traversing my own room
over and over. I wouldn’t have to worry about wild animals, or blizzards, or running out of food; hence, I didn’t
have to prepare anything. No matter where I was on my journey, I would be in my own room. If I got tired, I could
just crawl under the covers of my own bed.
Though I didn’t meet any wild beasts, I did have a number of frightening encounters.
On the first day, I crossed through twenty rooms, and yet the rooms still continued on. It felt like this was a
fool’s errand, and decided to stop there for the night.

　　　　　　　○

On the third day, I discovered the secret to unlimited wealth.

I have previously mentioned the space between my desk and the bookshelves in the description of my room.
That day, I decided to dig in there for anything that might be of use, and in the course of my survey of that
Siberian wasteland discovered a ragged wallet that had been banished there. Inside it was a single thousand-
yen bill. I sat in the middle of the room, smoothed out the worn bill, and laughed hollowly. What use was this bill
to me? Now that my world had devolved from a capitalist society into this utterly isolated 4½-tatami maze, it
might as well have been a scrap of toilet paper.
 But when I moved into the next room, I found another wallet and another thousand-yen bill. I was
thunderstruck. If it was the same in all the other rooms, then I would make a profit of a thousand yen in every
room. Ten rooms would mean ten thousand yen. One hundred rooms was one hundred thousand yen. A
thousand rooms was… What a racket. Whenever I escaped this world, I would be able to pay off the rest of my
tuition, and live comfortably on this money. Carousing around in Gion would no longer be just a dream.
After that, I started to carry my backpack with me on my journey, and threw another thousand-yen bill into it
with each room that I passed.

　　　　　　　○

At first, I got bored after moving through only a few rooms, and spent the rest of my time reading and
indulging myself in daydreams, trying to keep my spirits up. I even took the opportunity to sit at my desk and
admirably do some studying, but was soundly defeated by the Schrödinger equation.
I kept recalling the old fortune teller’s words.
What was this “Colosseum”?
I was firmly convinced that she had placed a curse on me, and it was clear that the key to breaking the curse
lay in “Colosseum”. But there wasn’t a Colosseum anywhere in my room. While I traversed through this massive
dimension, I looked for things that might be related to the Colosseum, but found absolutely nothing.

　　　　　　　○

As I continued this grueling journey, I thought back upon the Mochiguma that had been my solace for a year.
Though my heart had slowly shriveled up over the years, the memory of that soft teddy bear was still dear to my
heart.
I found the Mochiguma at the Shimogamo Shrine used book fair last summer, and it soon became very dear
to my heart. It was a grey, spongy bear, almost as soft as a baby and as tall as a can of soda. Squeezing it
affectionately was sure to bring a smile to my face, and so I always kept it by my side. After I left the secret
society and retreated to my room, my only human contact was with the half-demon Ozu, but even in that solitary
existence I needed a companion.
However, a few days before this journey began, the Mochiguma mysteriously disappeared at the coin
laundromat. I was washing off a few stains that the poor bear had acquired in the course of living with me, but
when I lifted the lid at the end of the cycle, I found that someone had absconded with my Mochiguma, leaving a
pile of unlovable boxers in its place. Upon further inspection, it turned out that those sad, indelibly stained boxers
were in fact my very own underpants.
“Perhaps you merely imagined that you were washing the bear, and actually came here to do your regular
laundry. You just got sick of doing ordinary laundry, and fancied yourself washing a teddy bear instead of your
boring clothes,” I thought to myself. “You’re starting to lose it.”
But when I returned to my room, my underpants were still in their usual spot. I was confused, now in
possession of two identical sets of boxers. Even now, that mystery had never been explained, and I just had to
live without my Mochiguma.
 I wandered around the room aimlessly, hoping my Mochiguma was doing well, wherever it was.

　　　　　　　○

Initially I counted every room that I occupied, but somewhere along the way I gave it up.
Open the door, go in, cross through Room n, open the window, climb in, cross through Room n+1, open the
door, go in, cross through Room n+2, open the window…I slogged on endlessly. Though I continued to profit a
thousand yen at a time, I still couldn’t see any means of escape, and depending on how hopeful or despairing I
was feeling, the value of each bill I picked up fluctuated wildly. If I couldn’t get out of this world, then all the bills I
had been painstakingly collecting were just worthless scraps of paper. I continued to collect them even when I
was on a mental downturn, the action of someone who was either a boundless spring of optimism, or well and
truly destitute.
I ate heaps of castellas, grilled fish patty after fish patty, and soldiered on this lonely march.
Sometimes I wondered whether I had actually fallen into a hell of 4½-tatami rooms and was condemned to
suffer like this for all of eternity. Thoughts of my previous iniquities floated through my head, and once or twice I
even collapsed, overwhelmed by my embarrassment. “I knew I was going to hell!” I shouted.
At last, having reached my breaking point, I collapsed onto the tatami mat like a log and refused to march
further.
I began to read The Curious Casebook of Inspector Hanshichi, getting drunk off cheap whiskey and chain-
smoking. “Why is this happening to me?” I shouted at the ceiling. Becoming frightened at the silent walls
pressing me in, I sang what few songs I knew at the top of my lungs; in any case, no one was going to complain
about the noise. I almost stripped naked, painted my body pink, and yelled out the complaints and obscenities I
had been suppressing for so long, but even though I was completely alone, my powers of reason hadn’t yet
completely gone out the window. Then again, under the circumstances, the wheels could come off at any
moment. Few others I know would have been able to withstand the pressure
However, I did manage to make a discovery.
Though each room looked practically identical, around the tenth day of my journey I began to notice a few
differences here and there. The contents on each of the bookshelves differed so slightly as to be almost
unnoticeable. I looked for a copy of The Curious Casebook of Inspector Hanshichi, but in that particular room the
book did not exist.
What did this mean? I did not yet know the answer.

　　　　　　　○

Let me turn to the issue of hygiene on this journey through the 4½-tatami world.
I loathed doing laundry, and thankfully, here I didn’t need to. There was a set of clothes in every room, so
whenever the clothes I was wearing got dirty I could simply change into a new outfit. I fastidiously changed my
underwear every day, so oddly enough, I was actually cleaner in this world without laundromats.
 At first I tried to keep shaving, but before long it got tiresome and I gave up completely. For one, I couldn’t
even go outside even to a convenience store, so there was absolutely no point. My hair got quite long as well,
and after a while my face resembled that of Robinson Crusoe, washed up on a 4½-tatami shore.
My beard and hair were of secondary concern, but the rest of my body was another matter. There were coin-
operated showers in the corridor in Shimogamo Yūsuisō, but in this world where corridors did not exist, I couldn’t
just walk down the hall and get to those showers. I was reduced to boiling water, pouring it into a washbasin, and
wetting a towel to wipe myself off. Humming under my breath, I tried my best to pretend that it was just as good
as a shower, but to little avail.

　　　　　　　○

As I had nothing else to think about, I spent a lot of time reflecting upon the wasted past two years of my life.
It was too late to change anything now, but I still regretted frittering away so much time on such tomfoolery.
After I broke up my partnership with Ozu, I gained a reputation for being incredibly useless, and soon became
known as the laziest manager in the history of the Library Police. Though all I did was slack off, I was never
hunted down or threatened. Ozu, who had been the golden boy of the Library Police and was now part of the
print shop, often visited me, and it was probably because of him that the powers that be decided to let my
transgressions slide.
I told Ozu that I was thinking about quitting, but he merely laughed and brushed off my concerns.
“Come on, I’m sure you’ll find something that floats your boat if you stick with it.”
How unhelpful.
My second year was a frustrating, uncertain time, and my resolve to stick it out quickly waned. On paper I
was part of the top brass, so I still attended the secret meetings and surrounded myself with conspiracies to
keep up appearances, but it all felt completely meaningless. All the other society members thought I was an idiot,
and the reigning Library Police chief Aijima wouldn’t give me the time of day. I came to resent him deeply.
Every night, I dreamed about deserting the society. It wasn’t enough to just leave outright; I wanted my
escape to be an audacious show of defiance that would go down in the annals of the Library Police.
In the fall of that year, I let my plans slip as I was having a drink with Ozu. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he
said. “Yeah, it all seems like a bunch of dumb college students having fun, but the Library Police’s information
network is the real deal. You don’t want to make an enemy out of them.”
“You think I’m frightened?”
Ozu flattened the the Mochiguma lying on the floor, which gave a sad wheeze as the air went out of it.
“You’re going to become like this bear. My butt puckers up just thinking about it.”
“Like you give a damn.”
“See, that right there. That’s why. Your reputation is in the gutter right now, and I’m pulling off a miracle
keeping anything from happening to you. A little appreciation would be nice.”
“I don’t have anything to thank you for.”
“Hey, it’s not like it costs you anything, friendo...”
The warm bubbling of the hotpot was a comforting sound when the loneliness of the autumn nights
threatened to pierce my bones. On the other hand, the fact that Ozu was the only one willing to huddle around a
hotpot with me was a serious problem. As a human being, it was inexcusable. This was no time to be sulking just
because I had had the misfortune of falling into this weird society. Beyond the confines of the secret society, a
respectable campus life was waiting.
“You’re thinking about how your student life should have been so much better, aren’t you?” Ozu said, cutting
to the heart of the matter. “You keep fidgeting. You haven’t fallen for someone, have you? I know people get
really embarrassed and self-conscious whenever they’re thinking about that sort of thing.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Didn’t you work part-time at the Shimogamo Shrine used book fair? I see you must have had an ‘encounter’
there.”
I ignored his insinuation and muttered, “…I should have chosen a different path.”
“Not that I’m trying to make you feel better or anything, but I think that no matter how you led your life you
would have run into me. Call it intuition. At any rate I’m doing everything I can to corrupt you. You can’t fight fate.”
He lifted his pinky dramatically. “You and I are bound by the black thread of fate.”
I shuddered, imagining myself sinking to the pitch-black depths of the sea, tied up with Ozu like a Christmas
ham.
Ozu smiled contentedly at my discomfort and popped a bit of pork into his mouth. “Aijima’s getting slammed
too. Even though I’ve moved to the print shop, he still comes to me for advice.”
“What does he see in a little bastard like you?”
“My spotless character, my silver tongue, my discerning intellect, my winning smile, and of course my
boundless love for my fellow man. There are the keys to winning friends and influencing people. If you need any
more pointers, feel free to ask!”
“Shut up,” I growled, but Ozu just grinned broadly.

　　　　　　　○

I left those memories behind me, and continued on my journey.

The history of the Earth is broadly divided into various spans of time: the Precambrian, the Paleozoic era, the
Mesozoic era, and finally the Cenozoic era. At the beginning of the Paleozoic era was the Cambrian period,
during which the Cambrian explosion occurred, bringing many new species into being. During the Jurassic and
Cretaceous periods of the Mesozoic era, dinosaurs flourished on the earth. I did rather enjoy looking at pictures
of dinosaurs when I was young.
At the end of the Paleozoic era was the Permian 1 period.
If you look at the kanji that make up Permian, you might imagine the surface of the earth, inhabited by all
manner of squirming creatures, to be covered with tatami mats. In that period, the world was composed of an
uncountable number of two-tatami rooms. As the world entered the Triassic period at the advent of the Mesozoic
era, the number of tatami increased by one. But as the dawn of the dinosaurs arrived, the beautifully laid out
tatami mats were stomped into nothingness and the world moved into the Jurassic period.

1 The kanji for Permian, 二畳, also means “two tatami”. Similarly, the kanji for Triassic, 三畳, means “three tatami”. There is
no kanji for Jurassic, leading to the demise of the classical tatami periods.
 I couldn’t help but think that the world had turned into a large 4½-tatami room. The Quaternary period of the
Cenozoic era had ended, replaced by the Quadrassic period. A mass extinction had wiped out life on Earth,
leaving only me and the moth that clung to the ceiling. So much for biodiversity.
As the last remaining human, I would wander this 4½-tatami world endlessly. I bemoaned the fact that no
matter where I looked, I would never find an Eve to my Adam.
But no sooner had this thought crossed my mind than I did, in fact, meet a most unexpected Eve.

　　　　　　　○

It was about twenty days into my journey.

I had lost track of what room I was in, so I shall call it Room k. Having spent half the day marching through
room after room, I was becoming irritable. I took a rest and snacked on some castella, which I had come to
loathe entirely.
The fluorescent light in the next room appeared to be broken and flickered on and off intermittently. I had
already seen a number of these dark rooms (which I called “cloudy rooms”), always passing through them
quickly, since they had an eerie aura about them.
After finishing my break, I opened the window and peered into the next room.
In one of the corners was a person sitting and reading a book.
Clichéd as it may sound, my heart nearly jumped into my throat.
Over the past twenty days, I spoken to nary a soul, and at last, on my solitary journey through this solitary
world, I had finally met another person. But fear overwhelmed my delight.
The girl reading the book was looking downwards, staring intently at the copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea on her lap. Her sleek black hair glimmered each time the light flickered. She hadn’t even looked
up when I opened the window, which showed a surprising amount of confidence. I considered whether she might
actually be a witch who controlled this corner of the 4½-tatami world. If I made one false move, I might be turned
into a steaming meat bun and devoured.
“Ah, I beg your pardon,” I stammered hoarsely.
She didn’t move.
I nervously stepped into the room and approached her.
She was quite lovely, and her skin looked and felt as if it was real. Her hair was carefully groomed, and not an
article of clothing was out of place. She looked just like a well-to-do young lady, except that she didn’t move so
much as a muscle. It was as if she had been frozen in time, forever looking wistfully into the distance.
“Kaori?” I gasped, almost too shocked to speak.

　　　　　　　○

It was near the end of fall last year.

Aijima, who had inexplicably become the head of the Library Police, had turned into a schizophrenic, a
paranoiac, making outrageous accusations with no evidence, trusting no one. He had mobilized the Library
Police solely for the petty goal of overthrowing the head of the Misogi movie circle, a person called Jōgasaki.
 There was rumors of beef between Aijima and this Jōgasaki, but some also whispered that his real objective
was to take control of this circle for himself and impress a girl who was one of the circle members. Whatever the
reason, Aijima had set Jōgasaki in his crosshairs.
The first step, of course, was intelligence gathering.
Through the intelligence network that was woven throughout the campus, we amassed all sorts of information
pertaining to Jōgasaki. Among the data we gathered was a photo of a woman. During the war council convened
to devise the plan of attack, this photo was circulated among the staff, and an emotionless voice spoke up.
“This is the target: Kaori.”
That was Aijima’s filthy, despicable plan. To Jōgasaki, Kaori was worth more than gold or jewels, and if we
kidnapped her, then Jōgasaki would have no choice but to bow to our demands.
The operation took place on the night before the school cultural festival, while the sounds of revelry could be
heard all over campus. Jōgasaki was away at a gathering held by the circle, leaving his apartment vacant. With
regretful glances back at the carousing, as if to question why they were being forced to participate in this act,
several senior members of the Library Police slipped through the night and gathered at Yoshida Shrine, myself
included. We linked up with a society member known only as the Lockman and headed towards Jōgasaki’s
apartment.
The plan was for the Lockman to gain entry to the apartment, allowing the staff members to enter and steal
away Kaori, the love doll. However, we encountered a setback before we even got to the building. Among us was
a faithless wretch who, upon realizing that this entire enterprise was a criminal offense, completely lost his nerve
and dedication to the plot. That wretch was me.
I threw a tantrum and clung desperately to a concrete wall. The other members had also been harboring
doubts about the plan, and hesitated after seeing my outburst. My appeals for justice began to win them over,
and in a few moments more, Aijima’s plan would be ruined.
Of course, who else would decide to make an appearance at that moment but Aijima.
“You nimrods, what are you dithering about?” he screeched. Immediately, we were divided into two factions:
one that wanted to proceed immediately with the plan, and another that wanted to flee blindly into the night. Of
course, I was the entirety of the faction that wanted to run away, or as I would prefer to call it, make a tactical
retreat.
As I scampered off into the night, I left the elegant parting remark, “Screw your stupid plan!” Aijima’s eyes
flashed like a serpent’s, and I began to genuinely fear for my life.
I careened through town and hid myself in the festivities, cursing myself for saying those words.
In the end my resistance was futile, and Aijima kidnapped Kaori anyways.
Late that night, in some underground nook of campus, Jōgasaki was forced to bow to Aijima’s demands, and
within a few days had ceded control of the circle he had founded and ruled with an iron fist for so long. I heard
that he showered Aijima with praise, even going so far as to embrace him in public.
I was filled with outrage.
I would never forgive the Library Police chief.
I don’t mean to brag, but I had some tricks up my sleeve as well. I quickly sprang into action, fleeing to a
hiding place that Ozu had prepared for me, and there I stayed, hardly daring to breathe, quivering with rage like
a newborn fawn.
 　　　　　　　○

I decided to stay the night in Room k.

When I woke up, I still didn’t feel like moving on yet. Scratching my sideburns, which by now had grown so
long that they had merged with my beard, I pondered my situation. As I took a sip of coffee, my gaze fell upon
the dirty wall behind the TV.
Then I had a revelation.
For over twenty days, I had been monotonously going through the door and exiting through the window.
Perhaps I had simply been banging my head against the wall all this time. If I really wanted to escape, why
hadn’t I literally broken through the wall? Maybe that was all it would take to solve this entire problem. There was
an exchange student living next to me, but even if I were to suddenly come crashing through the partition, I’m
sure he would just laugh it off with his continental largesse.
I was re-energized at the thought of finally being able to escape.
I examined the wall. I hadn’t installed an air conditioner, but I didn’t spend my days drenched in sweat just to
put myself through some kind of noble suffering. The walls of this boarding house were like the stage backdrops
in the cultural festival: so thin and full of holes that I could hear my neighbor and his girlfriend whispering sweet
nothings to each other as if I was right next to them. The moment I installed an AC unit, the residents of room
109 next door would feel a wonderfully cool breeze coming through the wall Then the air would flow to room 108,
then 107, then 106. The entire first floor would be free to carry on their lives in comfort while I footed the
enormous electricity bill.
Now, all my sweat was about to pay off.
I did some pushups and squats to warm up, and then took a wrench to the wall. The partition dented easily,
and a small crack opened up. Feeling like Hercules, I gleefully pounded away, ignoring the cloud of dust that
billowed around me, but after a short period of determined hammering I tired. I gave one sharp kick to the crack,
opening up a small hole about fifteen centimeters in diameter. Through the hole I could see the light of a
fluorescent lamp.
“All right!” I crowed, widening the hole some more before crawling through.
I looked around, only to find myself in yet another identical 4½-tatami room.

　　　　　　　○

After that, I continued to break walls, tried and failed to break through the ceiling, saw my hopes wax and
wane, opened doors, lapped up soy sauce, opened windows, slept for two full days, got wasted and threw up,
and whenever I remembered, broke more walls on my endless wandering through this 4½-tatami world.
The following are extracts from the scattered diaries I occasionally kept over the next twenty days.
Parenthetically, the dates are based solely on my sleep schedule in that world. They are by no means an
accurate representation of the actual time that passed, as I could only demarcate days and nights by when I
went to sleep and woke up.

Day 24
 Woke up at two. Breakfast was salted coffee and vitamins. I don’t know how many walls I broke today. The
walls that separate the rooms are fragile, but no matter how many I smash through I don’t seem to get
anywhere. Still, breaking walls makes me feel better. It feels like I can see the light at the end of the tunnel on
the other side of the wall. I guess I’m just daydreaming. But maybe this endless 4½-tatami world is a dream. Am
I dreaming? A dream. A dream. My dream. A shining, rosy, worthwhile student life.
Thinking about that makes me feel depressed, so I had some whiskey and fish patties and went to sleep.
Even in my dreams I was eating a fish patty. Get it together. Awake or asleep it’s all fish patties. At this point my
body is probably completely made of fish patties and castellas.

Day 25
Woke up at four. Didn’t feel like doing anything today, so I only went through a few rooms. Drank some
whisky. Terrible whisky, but sadly I’ve gotten used to it.

Day 27
I feel stronger. Don’t know how I did it since I haven’t set foot outside of these rooms. It must be because all
the wall-breaking and squats I did to kick the doldrums. I wonder how you do real Hindu squats though. Maybe
the ones I invented are actually more effective than the real thing. Perhaps I will begin to spread these new
Hindu squats throughout the world, when I leave this place.

Day 30
Found something interesting in one of the rooms I passed today. It was only a small paulownia box, but I
found a kamenoko scrubbing brush inside. I tested it on the sink, and all the filth came right off without any
detergent. This thing is super effective. I’m only passing through, but just on a whim I polished the sink to a
shine. What an idiot I am.
I wonder why each room has these small differences, like Kaori. What causes them? At first glance they all
look like my room at first glance, so how do these little changes arise? Don’t have the interest or the money to
buy a love doll, and I didn’t even know a brush like this could exist.
How strange.

Day 31.
Woke at three.
I don’t know if it’s afternoon or morning. Someone please tell me. Offering a reward of 3,000 yen. Today I
went running for the gold. But I probably shouldn’t go too far without orienting myself first. From now on, I think I
will stop breaking walls and return to moving through doors and windows. Though I’m sure I will start thinking
about the other side of the wall and start smashing things again before too long.
I had a dream while I was napping.
One of the rooms was divided in half by the Great Wall of China. I scaled it easily, because it was a dream. I
crossed it in a single step, which is ridiculous since it can be seen from space. Then again it was a dream. On
the other side, Ozu was sitting there eating some delicious-looking yakiniku. I could just about taste salted beef
tongue with leeks, but before I could put it in my mouth Ozu snatched the meat right from under my nose. He ate
it all, even if it was still raw and bloody, keeping me from getting a single bite. I suddenly woke up with a lingering
sense of frustration. That bastard Ozu. Even in my dreams he’s an asshole. But even subconsciously I still sort
of miss him.
God of the 4½-tatami, I humbly beseech thee, grant thy humble servant a blessed morsel of meat. Nay, I
forget my place. Just a bit of roasted eggplant, or undercooked leeks, or even just the drippings off the meat.

Day 34
I ended my travels a little early today, and did some cooking. I crumbled up the castella and boiled it along
with a fish patty. Tasted a little strange, but at least it was a change from the usual. Coffee is the one thing that I’ll
never get tired of, but I don’t know how much nutrition is in it. This is a very important question. Thinking about it
made me self-conscious about the lack of vegetables in my diet so I started chugging vitamins. I want to eat
something nutritious. I want some seaweed.
I washed my hair in the sink, and went to sleep. Why is it that washing my hair in cold water makes me want
to break down and cry? I guess cooling my head makes me depressed.

Day 38
You’re supposed to stay still and wait for rescue when you are stranded, but how many people would be
willing to do that in a situation like mine? If I don’t move, then I will run out of food rather quickly. I am a nomad,
wandering this 4½-tatami world in search of fish patties and castellas. This grand adventure of mine feels neither
grand nor adventurous.
Anyways, who would look for me in this situation? I don’t even know how to describe the predicament I find
myself in. Is it the world that has disappeared, or is it only me?
If it was me, then about a month has already gone by in the real world. June has already ended. I’m like the
4½-tatami version of Urashima Tarō. But even he didn’t have it too rough, since he just spent all his time in the
palace of the Dragon King.
My family is probably searching for me. Dad, Mom, I’m sorry for doing this to you.
But Ozu would never think about looking for me. He’s probably just laughing it off with a bunch of cute
underclassmen, wondering where I’ve wandered off to, I’m certain of it. My grudge against Dream Ozu for
denying me the salted beef tongue is still fresh.

Day 39
What will I do if I really can’t escape this place?
I’ll just have to bravely make my own way here as a colonist, alone. I will invent other culinary creations with
castellas and fish patties; I’ll begin farming mushrooms; I’ll break down all the walls and construct a bowling
alley, movie theater, arcade, and all sorts of recreational centers for myself; I’ll create my own utopia.
I’m getting excited just thinking about it.
It’s all so exciting, so why am I crying?

　　　　　　　○
 Throughout this miserable journey, I had been plagued by the problem of food.
I desperately wanted to eat some rice. Even a convenience store rice ball would do, no matter how cold and
stale it was. I would trade a hundred fish patties just to have one. If a freshly cooked bowl of rice were to be
placed before me, I would probably dissolve into a puddle of tears.
Thin miso soup from the co-op store. Hard-boiled eggs. Omelets. Sautéed spinach. Grilled mackerel.
Sautéed burdock and carrot slices. Fermented soybeans. Grilled eel on rice. Chicken and egg rice. Beef bowls.
Pork and egg rice. Fried rice. Seaweed. Teriyaki amberjack. Grilled salmon. Egg foo young. Chashu ramen. Egg
drop ramen. Hot soba with duck breast. Gyoza soup. Fried chicken. Yakiniku, of course. Curry. Steamed rice
with azuki. Fresh salad. Miso cucumber slices. Cold tomatoes. Melons. Peaches. Watermelons. Pears. Apples.
Grapes. Satsuma.
Maybe I would never taste any of them ever again. But even that thought just made my mouth water even
more. Almost every day, I stumbled through this 4½-tatami maze, deliriously chasing after tantalizing
hallucinations of the most delicious food you could imagine until I collapsed.
What I yearned for most was Neko Ramen.
Neko Ramen is a fabled ramen stand which is rumored to make its broth out of cats. Whether that is true or
not, the taste is unparalleled. Thick noodles swimming in that rich, incomparable broth. Before I was imprisoned
here I used to go to Neko Ramen in the middle of the night whenever the craving struck.
A world where I could go to Neko Ramen in the middle of the night.
To me, that was Paradise.

　　　　　　　○

The other thing I really missed was a bath.

I longed to jump into one of the spacious baths in the public bathhouse and settle in for a good soak. I often
thought about the ancient bathhouse that was in downtown, just west down Shimogamo Boulevard. Whenever I
felt like a bath, all I had to do was pick up a towel and head down the street. There was nothing like walking past
all the shops, getting there before the evening crowds arrived, and jumping into an empty bath with a splash and
a shit-eating grin on my face.
How I longed to do that again.
One day, I tried to construct a bathtub after a long march.
I dragged out a few cardboard boxes from the closet, dumped out their contents, and disassembled them. It
took me about two hours to construct a makeshift bathtub from those materials. Calculating how much water I
could boil in the pot, I made the bathtub as flat as I could so I could stretch out inside it, lining it with plastic
garbage bags in an attempt to waterproof it.
Then I boiled water in my pot, and dumped it into the tub, repeating until it was almost full.
As much as I was looking forward to soaking myself, the water quickly became tepid, and there wasn’t
enough room to submerge my entire body, so I had to awkwardly wedge my thin frame into that little cardboard
bathtub. I couldn’t help but wonder just what I was doing. The bathtub eventually collapsed, and all the water
came pouring right out into the room.
 The most painful thing was that no one was there to make fun of my pathetic efforts. If Ozu were here, he
would undoubtedly roast me alive.
“What are you doing? Maggots eating your brain or something?” he would say.

　　　　　　　○

One morning, I woke up with the sensation that someone was stroking my face with a feather duster.
I sat up in my disheveled bed. To my great consternation, my room was dancing with moths. Usually there
was just the one moth sitting alone in the corner of the ceiling, but today it was joined by a number of comrades.
They kept trickling in one by one through the hole I had knocked in the wall yesterday. I looked through that hole
to find the room on the other side swarming with moths as well, the air thick with black scales.
I hastily grabbed my backpack, moved to the next 4½-tatami room, and shut the window tightly behind me.
Each room only contained a single moth, but when they all gathered together they made a giant swarm. I
guess even moths got lonely. Now that they had discovered kindred spirits in which to confide, they were all on a
roadtrip to recruit more members for their support group. It made me a little jealous.
I heaved a large sigh.
The moths could tell bawdy stories, fall in love, and even sneer at those of their number that did. On the other
hand, the only one who would laugh at me for talking to myself and indulging in daydreams was...myself. Even
the most self-contained lifestyle needed a little more than this.
As I watched my new lepidopteran roommates enjoying themselves, I began to feel even sorrier for myself.

　　　　　　　○

Let us briefly return to the events of the previous autumn.

After fleeing from the scene of Kaori’s abduction, I barricaded myself in a hideout, trembling with fear.
Since I had openly declared rebellion, Aijima would likely move the Library Police to crush me. Jōgasaki’s fate
would become my own. My deepest and darkest secrets would be posted on bulletin boards; I would become a
laughing stock everywhere I went; and eventually a bunch of thugs would catch me, dye my entire body pink,
and throw me into the Suirokaku Aqueduct on the grounds of Nanzenji temple.
According to Ozu, Aijima was searching high and low for me.
“Aijima’s in hot water too, considering how reckless his actions were,” Ozu informed me. “Things were getting
so bad that even the print shop was thinking about stepping in.”
I dared not step foot outside of my hiding spot.
My place of refuge belonged to none other than Higuchi Shintarō, the man from whom I had previously
attempted to retrieve an overdue library book. When Ozu first suggested that I hide on the second floor of
Shimogamo Yūsuisō, I scoffed. My plan was to skip out on Kyoto entirely and pursue enlightenment out at Cape
Muroto.
“Forget running around like a headless chicken, it’s much safer to hide right here. They’d never think to look
right under their own noses, see?”
Ozu’s persistence convinced me, and I began to freeload in Higuchi’s room.
 I spent my days playing a homemade naval battle board game with Higuchi. For a while, Ozu didn’t show up.
It didn’t feel right being so obsessed with some silly game while my campus life was crashing down around my
ears. As I morosely sent a submarine to the bottom, Higuchi produced a cigar and attempted to cheer me up.
“Chin up, Ozu’s sure to straighten things out.”
“Won’t he just betray me instead?”
“Hmm, I suppose that’s a possibility as well,” he smiled. “You never can tell which way the wind blows with
him.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“But, I did hear him say that he was risking his life to keep you out of harm’s way.”

　　　　　　　○

I had been wandering this maze for nearly fifty days.

It was hard to believe that in the real world, it was already midsummer.
For 1,200 hours, all I had eaten were castellas and fish patties and vitamins and coffee and daikon. No
sunlight pierced the window panes; no breeze disturbed the stagnant air within these walls. It had been so long
since I had held a conversation with anyone other than myself. Even the vast amount of money I had
accumulated now seemed odious to me, and I didn’t want to keep picking up these thousand yen bills anymore. I
even considered just tossing aside the banknote-filled backpack, and continuing on without it.
What a world this was. What a world.
The ground was covered by an unbroken layer of tatami mats There was no dawn or dusk here, no wind or
rain. The only light here came from the dingy fluorescent lamp. With naught but solitude by my side, I walked
heedlessly from one room to the next, looking for the end of the world. I broke down countless walls, climbed
through countless windows, opened countless doors.
Occasionally I would inhabit the same room for several days in a row, reading books, singing songs, smoking
cigarettes, telling myself that after all I wasn’t going anywhere, so there was no point in tiring myself out. But
after spending an entire day staring listlessly at the worn ceiling, sitting there in that awful silence like I was the
last man on Earth, I began to feel a terrifying loneliness pressing in on me. Making bizarre food creations with
the limited ingredients that I had, folding endless hordes of origami cranes and samurai helmets, wrestling in my
underwear with Johnny, writing essays, doing pushups, going back for round two with Johnny, playing with a
rubber band gun—nothing I did could help me forget the reality of my situation.
Nothing comes to him who waits.
Having barricaded myself in my 4½-tatami fortress ever since I washed my hands of the secret society half a
year ago, I had thought myself someone who could exist in solitude quite comfortably. What poppycock. I hadn’t
really been alone. Compared to my present existence, I had practically been a social butterfly. I had boasted of
my solitude, when in reality I was no more than a presumptuous child, dipping my toes into the tide on the shore
of the sea of loneliness.
I couldn’t stand to be alone.
No matter what, I need to escape this place.
I unsteadily rose to my feet, and began journeying through this 4½-tatami world once more.
 　　　　　　　○

There was no one here.

Not a soul to talk to.
I wondered when the last time I had spoken to Ozu was.
Keeping my spirits up while wandering through this place became harder every day, as did clambering
through the countless windows. I no longer rambled on to myself, or sang songs, or even wiped myself off. I
certainly didn’t feel like eating any more fish patties.
Always the same 4½-tatami room.
Always the same.
Always the same.
No matter how far I went, this scenery would continue on forever.
All I did was mumble the same lines over and over in my head.

　　　　　　　○

While I leisurely played my board game in Higuchi’s room, things were moving rapidly on the outside.
That scheming devil Ozu had made his move.
While the assistant director of the print shop was away in Hokkaido for a conference, Ozu took advantage of
his absence and exercised his powers as interim deputy director, ordering a halt to the operations of the print
shop. This had never happened before in the history of the secret society, and Aijima completely forgot about
me, rushing immediately to the print shop.
Ozu appeared before Aijima, smiling unctuously like a dishonest merchant.
“The board of directors is concerned; apparently, someone is planning a mutiny against them. We are having
a meeting to address those concerns.”
Never in his wildest dreams would Ajima have imagined that Ozu was planning to seize power for himself.
While Ozu pretended to discuss things with Aijima, he had already laid the groundwork for his scheme with the
other organizations. With the help of an old associate of his in the Honwaka softball cult, who had connections
throughout the society, negotiations were quite simple. In addition, the head of the cultural festival planning
committee was his friend, and his name was well known even among the more obscure research societies. To
sweeten the deal, Ozu promised to shave off a large chunk of the cut from the print shop that was supposed to
go to the Library Police, and distribute the funds amongst the other groups. Using his connections from his
Library Police days, he made sure only to recruit people he knew would rally to his cause. Those he couldn’t
convince to join him were placed under house arrest on the day of the meeting by the Cheery Bicycle Corps.
Seeing his many tentacles encircling his prey was nothing short of terrifying, and Aijima was walking right into
his trap.
The meeting was an open-and-shut affair. Once the truth came out that Aijima had used the Library Police to
settle his personal grudge against Jōgasaki, the vote was unanimous to expel him from the secret society. He
was unceremoniously dragged out of the hall by members of the Cheery Bicycle Corps before he had even
processed what had just occurred, while the other members quietly moved to the next item on the agenda.
“I think Ozu would make a fine replacement,” proposed the Honwaka softball circle representative.
“Well, gosh, I’ve got a lot of things on my plate,” Ozu said coyly, pretending to demur.
In the end, it was decided that Ozu would become the head of both the print shop and the Library Police.

　　　　　　　○

The night that Ozu was inaugurated as the new Library Police chief, I timidly ventured onto campus for the
first time in a week. During my self-imposed imprisonment, the weather had grown fairly chilly, and the once
colorful autumn foliage now lay dying on the cold ground. I entered the law school building and descended into
the underground lecture room where the meeting was being held, witnessing the success of Ozu’s coup d’état
and the pitiful conclusion of Aijima’s reign.
After the meeting was adjourned and the other members left, Ozu sat alone on the lecture platform. I
observed his face from my seat in the corner of the room. The room, empty but for us two, grew steadily colder,
and my breath condensed in white puffs each time I exhaled. The newly minted Vice-Director-of-the-Print-Shop-
cum-Library-Police-Chief, did not have the sort of presence that such a grand title would usually warrant, and
was instead grinning in his usual imp-like fashion.
“You’re a scary person, you know that?” I said seriously.
“This is just child’s play,” he yawned. “In any case, you’re off the hook now.”
We left the underground auditorium behind and headed off to Neko Ramen.
Of course, it was my treat.
And so I washed my hands of the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant and set sail for sunnier climes. Or such was
my intention, but unable to ignore the fact that wasting two years of my life had set me back tremendously, I
secluded myself in my room again.
I had hoped to quickly rid myself of the dreadful Ozu as well, but that did not come to pass either.
That was because he was the only person who ever visited me in my room.

　　　　　　　○

Ozu is a student the same year as I. Though he is a member of the electrical engineering department, he
hates electricity, electronics and engineering. His first-year grades were so borderline that I wondered if there
was any point to him being in university at all. He, however, wasn’t concerned in the slightest.
Because he despises vegetables and adheres strictly to a diet of fast food, he has the extremely eerie look
and complexion of someone from the far side of the moon. If you were to meet him the street late at night eight
out of ten people would mistake him for a youkai. The remaining two people were certainly youkai themselves.
Cruelly beating the weak, groveling to the strong, selfish, self-assured, lazy, a complete demon, neglecting
studies, lacking a shred of pride, feeding off the unhappiness of others he was able to eat three square meals a
day. There is not a single part of him that is praiseworthy. If I had never met him my soul surely would have been
cleaner for it.
 And yet, he was the only real friend I had.

　　　　　　　○

My pitiful march went on.

One day, the bookshelves of the room that I stayed in were littered with materials pertaining to movies. The
space between my desk and the bookshelves was scattered with videotapes I had never seen before. In
between sips of coffee and drags on cigarettes, I browsed through those tapes, and happened on one upon
which someone had crudely scribbled the title “Duel on the Great Kamo Bridge”. Also written on the label were
the words “PROPERTY OF MISOGI”. My interest piqued, I inserted it into the VCR.
It was an exceedingly strange movie.
The only actors were Ozu and myself. The film told the tale of two men who inherited the opposing reins of a
legendary prank war predating the Pacific War, and proceeded to push past their mental and physical limits to
crush each other’s pride. Ozu wore an unchanging Noh mask-like expression, while my own performance was
ridiculously overacted, and we dueled each other with a string of merciless but surprisingly creative pranks. The
final scene, where Ozu, whose entire body was painted pink, and I, who had shaved half of my head, clashed on
the Great Kamo Bridge, was unexpectedly gripping. As the credits rolled, I was still on the edge of my seat,
almost ashamed of my own reaction to it.
For some reason, seeing Ozu’s face for the first time in seventy-plus days made me get oddly emotional.
I guess I was just feeling homesick.
After the credits, there was a making-of feature, though the scenes were obviously staged. Ozu and I sat in
front of the camera having script meetings and creating tasteless set backdrops. There was even a tawdry
section about audience reactions, but the only person who deigned to leave feedback was a woman who said, “I
see you’ve made another idiotic movie.”
I recognized that woman from somewhere.
“It’s Akashi,” I murmured.

　　　　　　　○

The used book fair. Akashi. Mochiguma. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.
In the summer of my second year, I arbitrarily decided to pick up a nice, quiet part-time job. A place in
Kawaramachi called Gabi Used Books was looking for part-timers to work at the used book fair, so I thought I’d
try there. “I don’t pay much,” growled the owner, a man with a face like a boiled octopus.
I worked there with another part-timer, Akashi. The bookstore owner was always rude to me, but whenever he
talked to Akashi, he looked like the bamboo cutter finding Princess Kaguya. As for me, I was stuck dealing with
the boiled octopus all day.
The horse-riding grounds run parallel to the shrine road, stretching north to south. During the book fair they
were crammed with tents, filled with people trawling through for books. There were so many boxes filled with
musty tomes it made my head spin. A number of folding stools were set up in the field, occupied by people who
were woozy from all the books stacked around them. Though it was sweltering, there was something charming
about the buzz of cicadas that filled the air. On my breaks, I would wander over to a nearby bridge, sit on the
handrail, and pop a ramune, pondering how silly it was for me to be slinking around in a stupid organization like
the Library Police.
I met Akashi every day at the fair. She had a refreshingly short haircut, and very keen eyebrows; her
unflinching gaze pierced you right through, and she gave off the impression that she didn’t pull any punches.
She was primarily tasked with watching for shoplifters, though under that hawkish gaze no would-be thief would
even dare try.
Despite her intimidating demeanor, a number of adorable plush teddy bears dangled from her bag. After we
finished tidying up one evening, I saw her stroking one of the bears, staring at it very hard as if she was wrestling
with some difficult philosophical question.
“What are those?” I inquired.
Her face relaxed into a smile. “This is a Mochiguma,” she replied.
She had five bears in all, differently colored but otherwise identical. Collectively they were called “Fluffy
Squadron Mochiguman”, and she treasured them dearly. The name Mochiguma was adorable and unforgettable
in itself, but the smile on her face as she told me what they were called was even more unforgettable.
In other words, to put it frankly, as many of you have likely guessed, I fell head over heels for her.
The evening before the last day of the book fair, I was crossing that small bridge when I happened upon a
Mochiguma lying on the ground; Akashi must have dropped it on her way home. I figured that I’d return it to her
the next day, but on that final day she didn’t show up. The shop owner brusquely told me that she had some
urgent business to attend to. I purchased Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea as a memento of the fair,
and left Shimogamo Shrine behind.
For the next year, I cherished the Mochiguma as my own, thinking that I would return it to Akashi one day.
Losing it at the coin laundromat hit me hard.
“Oh, how nostalgic…” I whispered, staring at the frozen image of Akashi projected onto the screen.

　　　　　　　○

Seeing Akashi’s face breathed new life into me.

The next day, I began to smash through walls again, but as I mutely hammered away with the wrench, my
thoughts were constantly on that videotape. I had no recollection of ever having made a movie with Ozu before,
and yet there that tape was. After thinking for a moment, I had to admit that I could definitely imagine myself
doing that sort of thing. On the videotape label was written the word “Misogi”. I dredged up memories of standing
in front of that fateful clock tower back when I was a freshman. The name of the movie circle which I had decided
not to enter that day was Misogi, wasn’t it?
Infinite rooms, each differing ever so slightly from the last.
A tape of a movie that I had never made.
Bookshelves filled with books that I had missed the chance to buy.
A kamenoko brush that I had never bought.
Kaori, who was the last person I would have expected to be living with me in my room.
 One day, I halted in the midst of my travels. Standing in the middle of the room, I tilted my head up to stare at
the ceiling.
I finally understood the structure of this 4½-tatami world.
I was embarrassed that it had taken me this long to understand. Each room in this endless maze was my
room, without a doubt. But they belonged to different versions of me, who had made different choices in their
journeys through life. For the past few weeks, I had been traveling through fragments of parallel existences,
rooms that only existed in parallel universes.
All my strength left me.
I still didn’t know how these rooms were organized, or why this world had come into existence, or how I had
stumbled into it.
But now I did realize one thing.
Even the smallest choices I made had an impact on my future. Through the countless decisions I made each
and every day, an infinite number of different fates were born. An infinite number of mes were born. An infinite
number of 4½-tatami rooms were born.
Therefore, in theory, the truth of this world was that it had no end.

　　　　　　　○

I lay down on my rumpled bed, and listened.

From the vast uninhabited expanses of the 4½-tatami world came the sound of absolutely nothing.
There was no one to talk to, no one to tell anything to. I had no one to convey this information to, neither past
nor future. There was no one to look upon me, no one to mock me, or admire me, or slight me, or fall in love with
me. There was no chance that such a person would ever appear in this world.
I was just like the dusty, stagnant air in this 4½-tatami room.
Whether it was the world that had disappeared, or whether it was I who had disappeared from the world, to
me the only thing that existed in this world was myself. I had traveled through hundreds of rooms, but in the end I
had not met a single soul.
I was the last man on Earth.
Was there really anything for me to go on living for?

　　　　　　　○

If I were to ever get out of this place, I would do so many things.

I would eat delicious meals and slurp up Neko Ramen. I would hang around Shijo Kawaramachi. I would go
see movies. I would quarrel with the octopus-faced owner of Gabi Used Books. I might actually go to class and
actually pay attention. I would participate in a ritual dance at Shimogamo Shrine. I would swap raunchy stories
with Higuchi on the second floor. I would make an appointment at Kubozuka Dental Clinic and get a taste of
Hanuki’s slim fingers. I would go console Aijima, so unceremoniously kicked out of the secret society. I wondered
how everyone was doing, and whether they were enjoying their lives in that humming, bustling world. Were they
doing well? Was Jōgasaki living happily with Kaori? Was Ozu up to his usual tricks spreading discord for his own
amusement? Was Akashi staring at Fluffy Squadron Mochiguman, still wondering where one of its members had
gone? Or had she found it in some unfathomable place? I wanted to find out.
But that wish would probably never be granted.

　　　　　　　○

I felt something hard poking into my back. Fumbling around behind me to see what it was, my fingers closed
around the wisdom tooth I had gotten extracted at Kubozuka Dental Clinic. A maniacal smile rose to my lips, and
I rolled around cackling, clenching my fist around that tooth.
Why was this thing here?
This was Room 0. I was back where I had started.
I wasn’t sure where I had gone wrong, but over the past weeks, I had returned back to the very room from
which I had begun my journey. It was probable that, deep in thought in some corner of this 4½-tatami world, I
had unknowingly turned myself around, putting myself back here.
None of the rooms in this world were exactly the same, but the space between every door and every window
was like a reversed image in a mirror. Thus, it was possible that I had gotten mixed up and thought that I was
moving forward, when in reality I was traversing towards the direction that I had just come from. Though I had
tried to maintain my bearing, it seemed that I had failed.
I had just completed a pointless loop.
Even so, I had already given up hope, and so I just quietly accepted this new revelation, lying in my bed and
absentmindedly playing with my scraggly beard. There was nothing for it but to prepare myself for a solitary life
in this world, forgetting the cherished memories of my past life in the world outside. I would cease this barbaric
behavior of breaking walls and live the quiet life of a gentleman, reading literature, weaving in more titillating
material at appropriate intervals, and concentrating on the elevation of the mind. At any rate, I no longer
entertained fantasies of escaping this endless tatami prison, so I would comport myself as befitting a gentleman
and await my death with dignity.
As I pondered my future here, I fell asleep.
That was on the seventy-ninth day.

　　　　　　　○

I opened my eyes.
The hour hand on my clock pointed to six, but it impossible to tell whether it was morning or evening. I
pondered the matter while lying in my futon, but I had no clue how long I had slept.
I wriggled around for a bit before sluggishly rising from the bed.
All was quiet.
After my usual morning ritual of cigarettes and coffee, I rolled back onto my futon and ruminated, not quite
ready to begin my day. I picked up the decayed wisdom tooth that lay near my pillow and held the grisly trophy
up to the light, my thoughts returning back to the old fortune teller in Kiyamachi.
 I was still convinced that the old woman was to blame for this entire affair. She had cajoled me with flattery
about my “earnest talent” and laid this curse upon me, when I had only approached her because of my longing
for a better tomorrow.
“Colosseum.”
What nonsense.
I no longer desired a meaningful rosy student life, that precious treasure I had once so coveted.
The more I looked at the tooth, the more grotesque it seemed, and I was amazed at how long I had waited to
get it checked out. The top of the tooth was hollowed out, and I could see the inside, as if it was a cross-section
model. The more I looked at it, the less it looked like a wisdom tooth, and the more it resembled an ancient
Roman edifice…
“Colosseum,” I breathed.
I suddenly heard a rustling sound coming from the half-open window.
Before I even had time to turn my head, a squirming black cloud came pouring into the room.
The swarm of moths had made it to Room 0 on its great migration through the tatami world. They kept
pouring in, filling the room all the way up to the ceiling, and yet the stream showed no signs of slackening.
I started to panic and attempted to escape to Room 1.
Opening the door, I gasped for breath, only to find the cool air of the corridor flowing into my lungs.
The dusty wooden planks of the floor stretched before me into the darkness. On the ceiling, the lighting
intermittently flickered, and the distant entrance hall gleamed eerily under the white fluorescent lights.

　　　　　　　○

I walked towards the entrance hall, ignoring the moths that streamed out from the open door behind me.
I heard a faint hissing sound coming from a rice cooker that someone had plugged into an outlet in a corner
of the hall. The thought of a steaming hot bowl of rice almost stopped me in my tracks, but I resolutely kept
walking. In the entrance hall, my shoes were still sitting in the shoe cabinet.
I exited Shimogamo Yūsuisō and wandered south through Shimogamo Izumigawa.
The twilight indigo sky hung low over the buildings as the breeze that whistled through the alleys softly
caressed my face, carrying with it an marvelous, indescribable scent. It wasn’t the smell of any one thing in
particular; it was the smell of the outside, the scent of the world. It wasn’t just the smell, it was the noise as well:
the rustling of the Tadasu Forest, the murmuring of the streams, the sound of a bike passing through the night.
I made my way through Izumigawa with unsteady footsteps. Before me, the hard asphalt street stretched out
endlessly. I took in the warm light from the street lights, the lamps on the houses, the windows of the buildings. I
passed the illuminated facade of Shimogamo Saryō and the silent houses lining the Shimogamo shrine road.
Cars rumbled in the distance as the students carousing amongst the black pine trees on the Kamo Delta came
into view.
I crossed the road and entered the Kamo Delta, walking through the trees on the embankment. A sudden
flood of emotion welled up inside me, and I broke into a half-run, brushing the rough tree trunks with my hands.
The other students looked at me with annoyance as I roughly pushed past them, but one glance at my shaggy
locks and beard and they turned back to their drinks.
 As I came out from under the boughs of the forest, the vast canvas of the twilit sky unfurled itself above me.
I ran to the tip of the delta, almost tripping down the embankment, and stood there dauntless as the waters
rushed by, as if I was on the prow of a ship. Before me, the waters of the Kamo River from the east joined with
the waters of the Takano from the west, and the combined rivers rolled their way inexorably south.
The surface of the river glimmered with silver from the reflections of the streetlights that were flickering on
one by one. In front of me, the Great Kamo Bridge stretched across the river. On its guardrails, precisely spaced
lamps threw orange light across the line of cars streaming endlessly across. There were people walking across
the bridge, people writhing on the Kamo Delta, people everywhere I looked. The lamps on the bridge, the
incandescent lights of the Keihan Demachiyanagi rail station, the rows of streetlamps, the lights of distant Shijō,
the lights of the cars passing along the bridge, everything glimmered like precious jewels, blurring before my
eyes.
What was this feeling?
The night was alive.
It was like being in the midst of the Gion Festival.
I breathed the sweet air deep into my lungs, stared up at the sky as the last rays of the sun faded over the
horizon, scrunched up my face, and unleashed a raw, primitive yell.

　　　　　　　○

Bathed in loathing and fearful glares from everyone on the Kamo Delta, I exulted in the fact that I was here,
alive.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, but I gradually became aware of a growing clamor on the Great Kamo
Bridge. From the tip of the delta, I could see a great crowd of students streaming onto the bridge from both sides
of the river, yelling and shouting. I wondered what the fuss was about.
As I looked on, a man climbed up onto the guardrail of the bridge. He seemed to be arguing with the crowd
that stood before him. With the light of the lamps dotting the guardrail I could just barely make out his face. It
was Ozu. He looked as if he was about to jump off the bridge, grinning and gyrating his hips grotesquely. Though
I hadn’t seen him in eighty days, his impertinent, impish face hadn’t changed. Even in my absence, he had forge
ahead on his own accursed path.
Overcome with emotion, I yelled his name, but he didn’t hear me.
What lunacy was he up to standing up there? Perhaps it was part of a festival. As I contemplated what was
going on, a shrill scream rose up behind me.
I turned around to see a dark cloud shrouding the top of the embankment. The people inside the cloud ran
around frantically flapping their arms and batting at their heads.
The fluttering black cloud continued to spew forth from the pine trees, heading relentlessly down from the
pine forest directly towards me. It was an incredible sight. Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter went the squirming cloud
as it rolled down the embankment like a thick carpet and engulfed me where I stood.
It was a giant swarm of moths.

　　　　　　　○
 The next day the moth plague made the front page, though nobody knew where the moths had come from.
By tracing their route, it appeared that the swarm had originated in the Tadasu Forest, that is to say, Shimogamo
Shrine, but many questions were left unanswered. For instance, there was no explanation for why all the moths
in the forest would simultaneously decide to migrate. There was an alternative rumor going around that the
moths had actually come from the neighboring Izumigawa town, but that explanation was even more confusing.
It appeared that the neighborhood around my boarding house had been inundated with moths for a brief while as
well.
When I returned later that night, the corridor was littered with moth corpses. I had forgotten to lock my door,
so my room was carpeted with them as well, but I reverently gathered the corpses and buried them.
I suspect what happened is clear to my readers.
This is what I think.
During my eighty-day sojourn in the 4½-tatami world, the moths inside each of those rooms had gathered
together into a large flock. That large flock came into my room, and from there streamed out into the world.

　　　　　　　○

I gallantly stood my ground on the tip of the delta as moths thrummed around me, filling the air with glittering
scales and occasionally attempting to force their way into my mouth.
Even so, the sheer number of moths that night was utterly overwhelming. The drone of beating wings cut us
off from the outside world, as if it were not moths but a swarm of winged imps passing by. What little I could see
through my squinted eyes was limited to the shimmering waters of the Kamo River, the guardrail of the Great
Kamo Bridge, and the silhouette of someone falling off that guardrail into the river.
After a while the swarm moved on, leaving behind the crowd of shocked revelers who babbled loudly about
what had just happened. I mutely scanned the river. There was an object entangled in the supports of the Great
Kamo Bridge like a dark, slimy strand of kelp. It looked like Ozu.
The students that remained on the bridge crowded at the guardrail, shouting over each other.
“He really fell off!”
“Oh shit!”
“Someone help him!”
“Nah, just let him die.”
“He’d just come back to haunt us!”
I jumped into the swollen Kamo river and sploshed my way towards Ozu. I was almost swept off my feet a
few times, but kept plodding towards Ozu. I was completely drenched, but considering how filthy I already was it
was more like taking a bath.
I eventually made it to the pillar, shouting, “Are you alright?”
Ozu stared at me for a while, then asked, “Uh, who are you?”
“It’s me, it’s me!”
He squinted at me for a few more seconds, until it finally clicked.
“But what’s with the Robinson Crusoe look?”
 “It’s a long story…”
“Yeah, well as you can see, I’ve got my own share of problems.”
“Can you move?”
“…owowowowowowowow. It’s no use. Something’s definitely broken.”
“Well, let’s at least get you to the riverbank.”
“Ouch, ouch, that’s where it hurts!”
Some of the students from the bridge ran down to help, yelling to coordinate the efforts.
“Get him up!”
“Get that side!”
“I’ll get this side!”
“Ow, ow, be more careful!” yelped Ozu as we carried him to the shore.
A large crowd had gathered on the west bank of the river. At one point I nearly froze when I thought I saw
Aijima, but at this point there was no reason to fear him anymore. Everyone gathered around Ozu as we put him
down on the beach like a log.
Higuchi arrived, looking unperturbed, and asked no one in particular, “Where’s the ambulance?”
“Akashi’s got it covered,” said Jōgasaki. “It’ll be here soon.”
Beside Higuchi, Hanuki stared down at Ozu. “You reap what you sow, isn’t that right?” she teased.
Lying on that dark beach, Ozu moaned. “It hurts, it hurts. Help me!”
Higuchi knelt down beside him.
“I failed,” Ozu said in a small voice.
“Ozu, you show a lot of promise,” the Master said.
“Master, thank you very much!”
“But you weren’t supposed to literally break a leg. What an incorrigible fool you are.”
Ozu lay there sobbing.
A number of important-looking people stepped out from the crowd and started to talk amongst themselves.
“Calm yourselves, Ozu won’t run away,” Higuchi thundered, almost sounding angry. “I will bear the
responsibility for him.”
After about five minutes the ambulance arrived at the Great Kamo Bridge. Jōgasaki went galloping up the
embankment to fetch the EMTs, who promptly wrapped Ozu in a blanket and set him on a stretcher. I would have
been overjoyed if at that point they threw him into the river, but they of course being professionals did not
distinguish between their patients. Without sparing a thought on Ozu’s evil doings, they punctiliously carried the
stretcher back to the ambulance.

“I shall accompany Ozu,” Higuchi said, climbing into the ambulance with Hanuki.

　　　　　　　○

So much had happened while I was away.

The story of why Ozu was chased down and cornered at the bridge is so complicated that it would take an
entire book to tell it in full; therefore, I shall relay it in brief.
 Messrs. Higuchi and Jōgasaki had been embroiled in a mysterious feud called the Masochistic Proxy-Proxy
War for a long time. In mid-May, Higuchi ordered Ozu, his underling, to take revenge on Jōgasaki for dyeing his
yukata pink. Ozu decided to exact that revenge by stealing Kaori, in imitation of what Aijima had done last fall.
He had originally planned to put her up at my place, but, since I was missing, entrusted her to one of the Library
Police supervisors, Mr. A. Unfortunately, Mr. A fell head-over-heels into a forbidden love with Kaori, and
surreptitiously absconded from Kyoto with her in tow. Ozu mobilized the Library Police on his own imperative,
obtained a rental car, and hunted down Mr. A, recovering Kaori. However, once it came out that Ozu had used
the organization for his own gain, certain circles and societies that were dissatisfied under the thumb of the new
Vice-Director-of-the-Print-Shop-cum-Library-Police-Chief decided it was now or never, and paid off the Cheery
Bicycle Corps to occupy the headquarters of the Library Police and print shop. Discovering that Ozu had been
siphoning off part of the revenue from the print shop to buy food and drink for Higuchi, they began to make plans
to recover the lost money from Ozu. Aijima, who had been waiting for a chance to avenge himself, sensed
opportunity and struck a deal to regain his place at the top of the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant in exchange for
Ozu. He bullied some junior members of the Misogi movie circle into locating Ozu. But that night, Ozu sensed
something was afoot as he made his way home, and instead of returning to his apartment, hid in a yard in Jōdoji
and called Hanuki, who relayed his plea for help to Higuchi. Thence, Higuchi instructed Akashi to expeditiously
infiltrate Jōdoji and extract Ozu. There was a tight dragnet encircling Ozu’s apartment, stretching from Jōdoji to
Ginkakuji, but Akashi devised a plan to pass through the canals of Lake Biwa, and Ozu slipped through that net
undetected. Pressed into women’s clothing at Akashi’s insistence, Ozu evaded the infrared sensor-like eyes that
swarmed the area to the east of the Kamo River and north of Marutamachi Street, and crossed the Tadekura
bridge, finally reaching the safety of Shimogamo Yūsuisō. Back in Higuchi’s room, Ozu had only fleeting
moments to catch his breath before his luck ran out and Jōgasaki barged in, having discovered the theft of Kaori.
Thrown back out onto the street, Ozu had nowhere to hide from the roving eyes of the society. He nimbly dodged
his pursuers one by one, but was at last cornered on the Great Kamo Bridge, and with nowhere left to run
climbed onto the guardrail.
He stood there undaunted, looking haughtily down at the crowd.
“If you try to do anything to me, then I’ll to jump!” he cried. “I’m not going to come down until you guarantee
my safety!”
In the end, he fell off the bridge into the Kamo River and broke his leg.

　　　　　　　○

After Ozu was carried away, the crowd on the riverbank began to disperse, like an ebbing tide. Suddenly
being thrown into all this commotion after eighty days of solitude bewildered me, and I stood there for a while,
absentmindedly stroking my beard.
Looking around the riverbank, I spotted a woman sitting on a bench. Her pale, unsmiling face was buried in
her hands. I walked up to her.
“Hey, are you alright?”, I asked.
“I really can’t stand moths,” she replied, the ghost of a smile flitting around her lips.
I had suspected as much.
 “What was with all the hubbub on the bridge?”
“Ozu…well, it’s all too complicated for me to explain.”
“You’re an acquaintance of Ozu?”
“Yes. I take it you are as well?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’ve known him for a long time.”
I introduced myself: I lived on the first floor of Shimogamo Yūsuisō, and had known Ozu since freshman year.
“Were you by any chance ever in the Library Police?” she asked. “You’re the one from the seahorse incident,
aren’t you?”
“Seahorse incident?”
“Master Higuchi ordered us to get him a seahorse, so Ozu provided him with a fish tank. But as soon as we
tried to fill it with water, it shattered.”
“Ah, I know what you’re talking about. That was a pretty bad experience.”
“But in the end, Master Higuchi never got his seahorse.”
“Why’s that?”
“After some more flip-flopping, he decided that he’d rather have a giant squid instead.”
“I don’t think you could raise one of those in a normal fish tank.”
“Even Ozu couldn’t supply one of those. I heard that he placated the Master by buying a giant Ferrari flag
instead.”
She started to rub her pallid cheeks vigorously.
“Would you like a drink to help you calm down?” I inquired.
I was certainly not making a craven attempt to take advantage of her fear of moths; I was simply concerned
by the lack of color in her face.
I bought canned coffee from a nearby vending machine and we drank it together.
“By the way, how are the Mochiguma doing?” I asked.
“Well. But one of them has gone missing…” There she trailed off, and looked very closely into my eyes, until
my identity dawned on her. “You worked at Gabi Used Books, at the used book fair, didn’t you? I beg your
pardon, I didn’t notice it was you.”
“You remember?”
“Yes, I remember you, but I must say that’s an impressive beard you have now,” she said, staring at me.
Attempting to describe my feelings in that moment would be pointless. Struggling to express those feelings
with actions, I blurted out the only thing I could think of.
“Akashi, would you like to go have some ramen?”

　　　　　　　○

As I ate, a flood of tears cascaded down my face, taking the shopkeeper aback. It was my first Neko Ramen
in eighty days.
“Is it really that good?” Akashi asked.
“Mm, mmph!” I sobbed into my bowl.
“That’s wonderful,” she nodded, quietly slurping up her own noodles.
 　　　　　　　○

Those are the facts of my eighty-day 4½-tatami sojourn.

I couldn’t bear to stay another night in a 4½-tatami room, so for a few days I slept out in the hall. I found a
new boarding house in Mototanaka and moved there with all due haste. This time, I picked a 6-tatami room,
making sure that it included a bathroom. Even so, I would sometimes catch myself reaching for a bottle to
urinate in, and for a brief moment relive those horrible eighty days.
The strangest thing was that even though I had spent so much time in there, back here in the real world
hardly any time had passed at all. It was less like Urashima Taro and more like the dream of Kantan. But it hadn’t
been a dream. The swarm of moths, my disheveled beard, and the backpack filled with thousand yen bills were
proof enough of that. I paid for all my moving costs with the money that I had collected in that bag.

　　　　　　　○

To describe how the relationship between Akashi and I developed after that would deviate from the purpose
of this manuscript; consequently, I will refrain from recounting it here. I am sure my readers would rather not
waste their time reading such contemptible stuff. There is nothing more boring than telling a story of requited
love.

　　　　　　　○

It is true that after Master Higuchi absconded, a great many changes entered my life; however, I would be
vexed if that were to be interpreted as a vindication of my actions. I am not so naive as to so easily overlook the
mistakes of the past. On occasion, I would consider magnanimously embracing my past self. Perhaps things
would be different if I were a young lady, but who would want to embrace a disgusting twenty-something man
like myself? Driven by this indignation, I refuse to absolve my past self of these sins.
I couldn’t shake off the feeling that choosing the Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant secret society in front of that
fateful clock tower that day had been a mistake. If I had chosen a different path, I most certainly would have led
a very different student life.
But after walking those infinite 4½-tatami rooms over those eighty days, I had come to suspect that no matter
what I had chosen, my life would not have changed much for the better. What frightened me the most was the
thought that no matter where I went, I would have run into Ozu. It was just as he said: he and I were connected
by the black thread of fate.
Therefore, I would neither embrace my past self, nor affirm my past mistakes, but for the time being I would
consider both water under the bridge.

　　　　　　　○
 For a time, Ozu was admitted to a hospital near the campus.
It was quite delightful to see him strapped down to the white hospital bed. Owing to his already ghoulish
complexion, it appeared as if he had contracted some incurable disease, though in reality it was merely a broken
bone. In fact, he was probably lucky to get off with just a fracture. I sat there gloating as he grumbled about his
inability to partake in any of his usual wicked habits, but whenever I got tired of his bleating I stuffed a slice of
castella in his mouth to shut him up.
There was a constant stream of people coming to visit him at the hospital: in addition to Higuchi, Jōgasaki,
Hanuki, and Akashi, I also saw members of the movie circle, friends from the softball circle, the head of the
cultural festival planning committee, the owner of one of the pubs, the owner of Neko Ramen, and even a
number of people from Lucky Cat Chinese Restaurant. To my utter shock, I even saw Aijima there. The front of
the hospital was guarded by a cordon of secret society members day and night, ensuring that Ozu wouldn’t try to
make an escape.
One day, as Akashi and I chatted at his bedside, a beautiful girl came in carrying a handmade bento lunch.
Ozu uncharacteristically became flustered and told us to get out. Outside his room, Akashi tittered impishly.
“Who was that girl?” I asked.
“That’s Kohinata. She used to be in the movie circle with Ozu and me, but it seems that she has been going
out with him since freshman year.”
“I don’t believe this. He had a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know how he finds the time to go out with her when he spends every waking moment scheming,”
Akashi said, sounding amused. “Ozu hates it when other people see them together. I suppose he must pretend
to be a good boy whenever she’s around.”
I glanced down the corridor. At the end of the hall, I saw a man meaninglessly pretending to feed ten-yen
coins into a pay phone. His face seemed familiar, and realized that he had been part of the group that set out to
kidnap Kaori back in my Library Police days. Noticing me glaring at him, he hurriedly slammed the phone down
on the receiver and dashed for cover.
I heaved a sigh.
“Hey, Akashi. Ozu has so many enemies, it’d be better for him to go into hiding for a while, wouldn’t you say?”
“I think you’re right,” she grinned. “I’ll get it all sorted out.”

　　　　　　　○

Seeing that Ozu, my only friend for the past two years, found himself in a bind, I generously offered to help
him out.
“Lots of people just waiting for you outside the hospital, don’t you think?”
“No kidding.”
“What do you say you take a little trip until things have cooled down a bit? All expenses paid, of course, by
yours truly.”
Ozu eyed me suspiciously.
“What are you scheming? You can’t fool me!”
 “You should put a little more trust in your fellow man. There are good-hearted people like me everywhere you
look. And honestly, your pockets are probably a little light these days, no?”
“That’s rich, coming from you!”
“Don’t worry, just leave it to me.”
“Why do you want to pay for me so badly, anyways?”

　　　　　　　○

A broad grin floated to my face.

“It’s how I show my love!”
“I don’t need that nasty stuff,” he replied.