An Unknown Encounter with Voyager 2?
=NASA: “The irregularities in the incoming data cannot be explained…”
[Popular Series] Solar Physics Lecture No. 666
Has Mankind Forgotten His Dream to Reach the Sky…?
Doubts about “Metal Traces” Found in 230 Million Year-old Meteorite
=Heated Exchange between Researchers at Snap Meeting…
Death of Cambridge Professor
=Predicted the Existence of Wormholes; in Later Years He Predicted Tragedy…
Arrest of Man who Claims: “The Aliens Will Come Again…”
Scribbles Found in Science Museum in Tokyo’s Taito Ward…
The Continued Failure of Rocket Launches
“Unknown Causes”: Citizens Losing Faith…
Haruma-1
The short homeroom period functions much like a starting gate. At the signal announcing the end of school, the racers inside the classroom make their move.
However, not all those gathered here were thoroughbreds, picked and bred for the occasion. They ranged from swift horses to fillies, packhorses to asses, piglets to raccoon dogs. There were foxes, cats, Mount Fuji, hawks, eggplants—well, you get the picture (1). The classroom was a place where different tribes duked it out in a game of thrones. Among those buzzing, prattling voices, reverberating through the room like little ripples, one could make out a horse’s whinny, a wolf’s howl and even a frog’s croak. In the midst of all this croaking and croooooaking, I, too, had been crying for some time now.
School club goers, movie/karaoke goers, lazy-asses-who-would-come-up-with-something—everyone had their afterschool plans in mind as they turned their gazes towards the teacher’s platform.
“Lately, there have been reports of young people going missing. Are you all aware of this?” asked the homeroom teacher Kuriu-sensei in a composed tone of voice one might also describe as bland. “Be careful going home if you finish late because of club activities and whatnot. No stopping for detours or going out after dark.”
As she spoke, she raised a stern finger and gazed slowly around the room at each and every student, not that the students were having any of it. The complaints poured out of them like squeals from a bunch of piglets.
“Aww!”
“That stinks!”
The whining rose to a crescendo from boys and girls alike, sweeping through the entire classroom. The only one who didn’t get defiant was basically the person who ignored the entire conversation in favour of internet news topics—me.
Kuriu-sensei lightly clapped her hands in an effort to stifle the dissenting voices. “I understand that you want to have fun. But if something were ever to happen to all of you, I would be very sad… so please show me your happy faces tomorrow. All right, that ends today’s homeroom. Goodbye, everyone.”
The moment she uttered those gentle parting words, all hell broke loose from the students.
There were some who launched themselves out of the classroom, others who hung around chattering in a group, and still others who beckoned over here or over there. Each and every one of them had been liberated by that wrinkle in time known as “the afterschool hours”.
These people can be sorted into three broad categories.
First, there are the goody-two-shoes club-goers. Some pour themselves into their club activities day and night, while others chill out and have a good time. Generally speaking, however, they all spend most of their school life doing club activities.
Next, we have the popular clique. They’re keenly aware of the link between work and school, and thus mainly live their lives in the pursuit of afterschool fun: karaoke, bowling, darts, billiards and, last but not least, love-related matters. Their quintessential high school lives overflow with youthful radiance. They’re pretty much the kind of people who tend to use phrases like “all-nighter”, “glugging” and “getting smashed”.
Finally, let’s not forget the “my way is the highway” people who live for their hobbies. In all likelihood, their anime, manga and games were shunned in ages past. While they might still be seen as social outcasts in today’s world, they don’t experience that fate at this school. Both sexes are equally enthusiastic about the current anime season and their favourite seiyuu. Those kids have a lot of influence in this class.
These three groups intermingled, only occasionally breaking away into clearly defined cliques. They were woven into the very fabric of school life. Even the most diligent club-goer falls in love, and the popular kids read Weekly Shonen Jump. The otaku go out in mixed-gender groups to sing karaoke on their way home from school. In fact, messy love problems were a relatively common affair in the otaku circle. Specifically, it’s awkward when so many ugly people make out in public.
Kids these days—they’re ruled by their hormones. Their lives are full of illicit fraternising. Man, they mingle with alien species so much it makes me wonder if they want to work for NASA. It takes one short hour for them to say I’ll be right here.
Castes and groups may vary, but they all offer the same things: friendship, love, hobbies—and a way to live out one’s youth. However, to compensate, one is bound hand and foot by time, appointments and social obligations.
What a sad state of affairs…
Ordinarily, controlling time and people’s plans is what an overlord would do, but even that is beyond their capabilities… Ahaha! What a shame! Sucks to be them! Between me and them, it should be obvious who deserves pity!
Haruma-2
Since it really was in quite a sad state of affairs, I hurried out of the classroom to go study in the library instead. Now that it’s May, I pretty much spend all my time like this. I have neither cash nor people to hang out with—no club activities either. The only reason I have no one to hang out with is because I have no use for idiots and losers. But the fact that I don’t hang out with smart or good-looking people is a huge dilemma! How did it come to this?!
Basically, the one thing I had going for me was time. I make optimal use of what I have, as one should.
Besides reading and studying, I play with my cell phone from time to time and mess around on mobile games. Since I abide by the principle of never paying a cent on games, when I run out of action points in a game I just study and read until they recharge.
Okay, I’m good. I really do make excellent use of my time. Studying totally comes in handy in the future, so I’m not wasting my high school life in the slightest. I’m good, yep. N-no problem here, folks…
I whipped my gaze towards the window in an attempt to rejuvenate my tired, leaden eyes. It was already evening.
The school building was probably vacated by now. Perfect. Time to do those service club activities Amane-chan shoved down my throat at lunch time. I mean, performing such a conspicuous activity out in the open would spell death in the jungle. The same thing went for the concrete jungle.
I left the library and walked down the hallway. As I climbed up the stairs—first floor, then second, then third—the voices from the grounds became ever more distant. The human presence thinned out as well. They say that the air becomes thinner at high places, but isn’t that because the air is too thick on the ground?
I came, I read, I ran away. When the air is thick, it’s even more suffocating. It makes me think idiotic things, like that I’d gone on a different evolutionary path or something. Well, you know what they say about fools and high places. Only idiots get information, it seems.
Still, just who was it who came up with the idea of belittling people who aim high?
Obviously, someone who couldn’t reach the sky. They could probably only derive satisfaction from looking down on those who climbed to the high places that they themselves could never attain.
For that reason, I didn’t dislike the idea of approaching the sky, one floor at a time. That way, I can stay true to my conviction that detaching oneself from the world is the right thing to do.
Eventually, the sunset-tinted glass staircase ended at the landing in front of the roof. There was a door leading straight to the rooftop, but it was always locked, so students could not freely come and go.
This had to be the place Amane-chan was talking about.
Glancing around, I could see it was indeed a bit grimy. Dust balls had gathered in the corners, and buckets were strewn around the place. Oh, and the door of the cleaning locker featured a massive dent, as if someone had kicked it in.
When I tried to pull the locker open, it wouldn’t budge, so I then decided to tackle the problem with force.
And at that moment—
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
A bloodcurdling scream rang out. With a frenzied rattle that seemed to shake the entire roof, the doorknob turned and the door swung open.
A female student sprang out like a jack in the box. I thought we were going to collide, but I somehow got out of the way, at which point the girl darted down the stairs in one leap without so much as a backward glance.
“…What was that just now?”
I thought crashing into another person leads to a beautiful romance. But that roar just now was a whole new level of strange, unheard of in daily life… And holy crap, has no one been regulating entry to the rooftop? I wondered as I peered at the roof in trepidation.
The door was still ajar, having been flung wide open. Beyond it lay the slightly grimy mortar ground, perfectly level and secluded. Confronted with an unfamiliar scene, my feet stepped forward on their own accord.
A red, red sky.
The glow of the sunset was eerily beautiful, enough to make my hair stand on end. The cityscape appeared to be ablaze, and the sixty-story high-rise buildings resembled headstones dripping with blood.
Thoroughly shaken, I walked over to the fence. There, standing in a corner that had been just outside my vision until I drew near, was a girl.
Her bright red cheeks were dyed in the sun’s afterglow, and her jet black hair was like a raven’s feathers, dissolving into the darkness of the night. The girl stood in the precipice between two worlds, receiving the sunlight in front of her and saddling the night behind her.
Chigusa Yuu was gazing at the sunset with misty eyes as a single tear rolled down her pale cheek.
Instinctively, I knew that I was not supposed to talk to her. For one thing, I have no idea what to say to a crying girl. For another, I have no idea what to say to a girl full stop.
More than anything, I could not bear to interrupt this utterly magnificent scene of a beautiful girl crying in the sunset.
As I drew back quietly in an attempt to leave the rooftop, Chigusa swung around like a flash and noticed me.
Silence.
Chigusa gazed at me with a blank and mystified expression, as if she had just discovered a masked palm civet in the middle of town (1). Meanwhile, tears continued to trickle down the corner of her eyes.
“H-Hey…”
Making eye contact with someone and not saying anything is generally a bad idea. Having said that, spouting polite formalities at a younger person is even worse. However, talking like a Frenchman (“What ails you, mademoiselle? A weeping heart spoils this wonderful sunset”) is equally stupid. Wait, that might be how an Italian speaks. In the end, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a grunt so devoid of meaning it made me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Chigusa’s expression didn’t flicker. No reaction at all. She continued to look at me as if I were some kind of exotic beast.
A silence hung in the air between us.
…I recognise this. I recognise this vibe! It’s like when Amane-chan cries at home!
Whenever you talk to a blubbering girl, they tell you, “I’m fine, so leave me alone.” However, if you leave them alone, they say, “Why aren’t you asking anything?” And if you actually do ask them what’s bothering them, what they tell you is complete crap no one cares about.
They start off blubbering and end up jabbering—don’t be swayed by a girl’s tears.
In an attempt to leave before things got messy, I gave her my best meek-mannered smile, bowed politely in her direction and swung around.
Just then, I felt someone grab my blazer sleeve.
When I cast a glance sideways, Chigusa was clinging to my sleeve with her tiny hand.
“…”
Her fingers possessed a silent yet steely resolve, holding fast to my sleeve unflinchingly.
“Um…” I said as I peeled Chigusa’s fingers off me slowly. I was stunned at how long, pretty and slender her fingers were, but I forced down the jolt that went through me.
At times like these, one shouldn’t respond too much.
I mean, women are delicate creatures. They should be handled with extreme care—they’re literally made of glass. Even if they do something wrong, one shouldn’t treat them like a tumour. Women are sensitive about the way they’re treated, so they burst into unnecessary hysterics—they’re literally marbles.
Yet Chigusa, undeterred, summoned the strength in her fingers once again and gripped me even harder. The way she looked up at me with those teary eyes almost stopped my breath.
Her thin shoulders trembled with anxiety, and a barely discernible sigh slipped past her alluring lips. Chigusa and I were so close that she wouldn’t even have to take a step forward to fall into my arms.
…I wasn’t about to fall for that trick, though. I had been schooled for seventeen years in my sister’s “Real-life Horror Story: A Girl’s True Nature” course. Not that it was worth any credits.
“Um… you can let go,” I said as calmly as I possibly could, all the while preparing to flee from this place.
But then a tear streaked down Chigusa’s face once again. “Er, um…” she uttered. “Y-You see… my friend hasn’t answered my calls in ages… I don’t know what to do…”
“Um, that’s not…”
What the hell was she spouting? Was she really okay with saying all that? Regardless, Chigusa went on as if my voice had failed to reach her.
“It’s been three days and she hasn’t answered my calls…”
Wow, that’s short. Hey now, it’s been over a month since I last made contact with my classmates. And we’re in the same classroom, damn it…
“Maybe she has a cold, or the flu, or maybe family issues…”
“If that were the case, she still would have answered my calls… She has always done that until now… so why now…?” Chigusa seemed to be holding herself back, but she still let slip a muffled sob.
“I see. I see how it is. Yep. That sure would weigh on your mind.”
From the way Chigusa was talking about it, it didn’t seem like her situation would work out, so I remembered my sister’s teachings and decided to hear Chigusa out for the time being. If Amane-chan’s case was anything to go by, a girl would be halfway done with her spiel at this point. The other half of the conversation was guaranteed to be bitching behind her friend’s back, yep! Damn, girls are scary!
That’s how it seems to be when it comes to friends and besties, though. When you fall out of contact with them, it weighs on your mind and you end up arguing with them…
To be quite honest, I find it difficult to understand.
Keeping close contact with a friend and then starting a fight out of insecurity, or otherwise crying buckets over it—such actions have a way of taking over a person’s life, making “best friends” little more than a formality. I’m inclined to think of those actions as highly calculated—ritualistic, even.
Frankly, I think it’s ugly.
And yet—
Those tears were beautiful.
Regardless of her intent, the sight of those tears melting into the sunset was captivatingly beautiful.
“Well, there’s something.”
That was what I managed to come up with after fumbling my words. It prompted Chigusa to tilt her head and peer at me.
“What’s something?”
What’s something indeed? Don’t ask something like that with such a cute face, damn it. This wasn’t a modern literature question where you had to point to the correct answer, you know…
Still, I had a whole wealth of experience for times like these.
“Give it for one more day, and if she still hasn’t called you, come talk to me again.”
Awwright, this was the “Huh? You want to exchange phone numbers? …Ohh, uh, my cell phone batteries are dead right now, so I’ll text it to you later, okay?” strategy I learned from the first day of class. Just how did that girl plan to text me when she didn’t know my number…?
Yet even those evasive words did not seem to deter Chigusa. Her eyes lit up. “Wow… I-Is that okay?”
“Yeah. See you later.” I smiled brightly and waved, prompting her to bob her head eagerly. Ahh, what a nice girl.
If I could speak, you would understand. Such fine words. The Prime Minister who said that was summarily murdered, for dialogue is useless. Maybe the guy who killed him was part of the cat faction. He really wouldn’t get along with poor Inukai-san (2).
As the girl in front of me bowed her head, I quickly took my leave.
We would never meet again anyway. A pure and sweet young beauty like Chigusa Yuu had nothing in common with a lone wolf like Kusaoka Haruma.
I entered the school building, closing the door to the roof softly behind me.
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TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) Masked palm civets are cat-sized mammals mostly found in rural Japan, although more and more of them have been discovered in urban areas in recent years. A number of recent high-profile confrontations between masked palm civets and humans in Tokyo have turned the animals into something of an internet meme. See for example: http://en.rocketnews24.com/2014/11/16/police-called-in-for-civet-disturbance-in-tokyo/
(2) There are two parts to this joke. The first part is a reference to the May 15 Incident of 1932, when eleven young Imperial Japanese Navy officers shot the Prime Minister Inukai Tsuyoshi. Inukai’s last words were roughly If I could speak, you would understand, to which his killers replied Dialogue is useless. This event helped spur Japan’s militarism, which led to the eventual Second Sino-Japanese War. The second part of the joke is that the ‘inu’ in ‘Inukai’ means dog. In Japan, lovers of dogs or cats identify as part of the “dog faction” or “cat faction” respectively, and these two factions are supposedly at war with each other.
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Yuu-1
If I had to name one thing I loathe in regards to entertainment, it would be stories that depict misunderstandings.
This thought always occurs to me whenever I watch dramas, listen to operas or read a novel. No matter how sophisticated the theme is, I feel disgusted whenever the characters misunderstand each other in a ham-fisted manner.
Our time is finite. No person can live forever. No matter how great of a human being one is—even if that person happened to be a flawless and all-knowing god or a superior life form of equivalent virtue, blessed with good looks and peerless intellect—the human lifespan is predetermined.
What lies ahead of us is sweet despair.
The harsh extinction of one’s consciousness. A nightmare that stretches into eternity. A snare that reaches into the void.
Every day we live, we edge one step closer to death. There is no guarantee that one will live to see tomorrow.
Every time I watch a story that wastes time on misunderstandings, I want to scream. Do they really have that much time to spare in their lives? Do they have nothing in common? So why do they do it? They may invent feelings and concoct encounters, but in the end it is all about themselves. Instead of paying any heed whatsoever to the person they misunderstood, they focus solely on their own story.
Is there really anything in this world more terrible than dying out of lack of anything better to do?
Yuu-2
“—So then, could you please lay off with the threats…?” I complained with all the pathos I could muster.
Two long shadows stretched across the roof. The dusk-filled May air was clear even this high above ground, and wispy illusions fell across the surroundings. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded as if it was petering off into the wind, weak and flimsy. I thought that something must have happened because the ground shook beneath my feet, but then I realised that my legs were wobbling like jelly.
“Dying, killing. Please don’t utter such mortifying words so casually…”
“Whatchu say?!”
The girl in front of me—Maria-san—raised her voice in anger as she shot me a glare.
It was a dreadful look.
She backed me against the fence and opened her mouth wide, as if threatening to eat me up right that minute. She resembled some sort of hypertrophied bullfrog.
I regretted not bringing along any recording equipment. If I had possession of the deplorable parts of her speech that, mere moments ago, had included liberal use of unspeakable words, I imagine the foul language would be reined in rather quickly and effectively.
Of course, I would not actually do it. Even now, I still thought of her as a friend. Selling out a friend was the one thing I did not want to do.
“Please, calm yourself down…” I said, recoiling.
Unfortunately, that only had the effect of pouring oil on a fire.
“Chigusa—you think you’re in any position to say that?!”
Maria-san banged her fist against the fence, breathing wildly. Her frog punch made such an explosive impact it threatened to split open my ears (1). I nearly curled up like an armadillo at the sound of it.
She had a point: when one compared our relative standings, I had no right to complain. No matter how much societal values change, the weak can only blindly follow the strong.
And yet, even so…
“I only want to ask where Shia-san is…”
I attempted to talk things through.
If I could speak, you would understand—those are famous words. They are supposed to be a universal human principle. That goes for everyone: Prime Ministers and assassins, editors and novelists penning the beginning of their stories well past the deadline, and bill collectors and a debt-ridden person on the verge of bankruptcy alike.
After all, we have no reason not to understand after talking things through.
“If she doesn’t call me, I’ll be in trouble… My money…”
“That’s the only thing that comes out of your gob—money, money, money! Don’t you have something else that’s important to you?!” she yelled at me, causing me to recoil once again. That did not sound like the words of someone who would cheerfully borrow someone else’s money.
Had I made a mistake? What was this “something else that’s important” she mentioned?
Figuring I had better take stock of the situation, I glanced around. Beyond the cluster of inner city buildings towering over the surroundings like a forest of bamboo shoots, an unusually large evening sun was melting into the horizon.
Today, the world was painted in a shade of red darker than even fresh blood. Though some might claim that the deep, dark redness is chilling, to me it sparkled brilliantly, like a cut diamond. It is not much to brag about, but the view from my school rooftop is undoubtedly one of those things that cannot be bought with money.
As I gazed down upon that spectacular sunset view, I thought to myself: in this ephemeral human existence, what is most important?
—Money, of course.
There is nothing that cannot be bought with money. In the unlikely event that something priceless existed, it would not be worth one micron in this capitalist society, so it is the same as not existing. It is really nothing to brag about.
A cut diamond? Our society believes more in cold, hard cash than jewellery, so that sort of thing is rather dubious.
Yes, I was fairly certain I had not made a mistake.
Feeling relieved, I turned back to Maria-san. “If you cannot tell me, I really will be in trouble. I will be neck deep in trouble. Running off with borrowed money is a grave offence in today’s business world.”
These days, more and more young people have been vanishing into the night. People with many dreams—or, to put it bluntly, those who are severely wanting in any form of plan for their lives—are the prime targets for money lending, although recently they have been delaying their repayments at an unusual rate. I can only assume that they got together behind the scenes and made off with my finances.
I, too, have been slighted. This would be the only time that a girl who appears as delicate and beautiful on the outside as I would ever be so reproachful.
“L-Like I said, it’s the Random Crossroad!”
“Uh-huh.”
“For sure she disappeared because of that urban legend!”
“I’ve heard quite enough,” I sighed, shaking my hand limply.
Maria-san had a very firm friendship with that aimless girl, and now she wanted to make use of my finances for herself.
Even as she received life as a frog, she had unrealistic dreams of becoming a swan, and so she would rely on another person’s money. Frogs are frogs, after all. Ribbit ribbit ribbit. They sing their habitual song, the artefact of the simple and easy existence they ought to aspire to.
Everyone who is not me ought to become a frog. That being said, if the world did happen to be a village of a hundred frogs, I would instantly leave it for a human village.
It takes one to know one: a frog to know a frog, and a person swamped in debt to know the thought process of a person swamped in debt.
Thus, I called her and attempted to speak to her, only to hear it was all because of some urban legend.
The so-called Random Crossroad.
The scene: a road curve in a residential area, gleaming with orange light from a convex traffic mirror. If you walk down the path at midnight holding hands with your lover, four roads appear at the end of the crossroad. If you choose the wrong path, you may never return.
“What a trifling matter…”
I know not about randomness or romantic interludes, but I prefer to stay within means, even when it comes to how I am insulted. It is quite all right to be frightened by the occult until you are in grade school. It is fine to think of dates and liaisons until you are in middle school. That’s all well and good, but I would prefer to have my money back.
“Maria-san, if you are unwilling to be straight with me, I may or may not increase the rate of interest on your loan.”
“I can’t believe you…! Die! Piss off!”
Once again, she used very mortifying vocabulary. My legs shook beneath me.
I simply could not die and leave things the way they were, not when I had failed to collect the average two hundred per cent return on the money I lent.
“Besides, I only borrowed thirty grand. Why is it up to fifty, no, a hundred grand?”
“It went from forty thousand to five hundred thousand, to be precise.”
“What a rip-off!”
“I explained to you about the interest rate when I lent it to you. At the time you were putting your seal on the blank IOU, nothing would sway you.”
“No way… I mean, it went up so much…”
It always turns out like this. Debtors are all the same. When they borrow, they do so happily, but when the time comes for them to return the money, they grumble about so many trivial things. Honestly, it makes me wonder if there is a business in betraying people who would lend money out of the goodness in their hearts.
“You may consult your parents on the matter. For my part, I will prepare an explanation as to what you planned to use the money for.”
Maria-san had borrowed money to go on an overnight trip with her secret boyfriend. I was able to save a number of photos of the happy couple in my image folder, photos that seemed to hold multiple meanings. Transmitting photo attachments of the lovey-dovey pair is a simple matter.
“Urk…”
A flustered Maria-san gripped the fence and stood stock still.
It was clear as day that the two of us were high above ground—even a monkey would be aware of that fact. If this were a case of armadillo versus frog, the armadillo would simply roll over and splat—that would be the end of that. It would not even take three seconds to achieve an easy victory. And so, even if the weak can only follow the strong, I was nonetheless willing to come to a compromise through talking. I would certainly appreciate it if Maria-san lent her assistance, however.
“All you need to do is tell me where she is. I’m quite sure it won’t be any trouble to you at all, Maria-san. I will handle the rest.”
“Why are you so hung up on Shia…? You’ve already made enough profit, so why don’t you just leave her alone…?”
“Why, you ask? Are we not friends?” I said with a smile.
Debtors who return money are good friends. At the very least, I record them on my friends list.
On that note, the principle of “don’t let them live, but don’t let them die” is standard practice in the profession known as moneylending. Only a fool would let go of friends who produce money. Friendship is beautiful when it is backed by cold, hard reality, unfettered by flimsy illusions.
“You…” I wonder if Maria-san was moved as well. Her cheeks were blushing bright red.
She gazed at me with narrowed eyes overflowing with violent emotion and said:
“You… bitch!”
All of a sudden, a sound rang out, perfectly tonal and aesthetically pleasing.
She struck me on the cheek. She struck me.
At the same instant I realised this fact, my cheek began to twinge with pain.
“Er, uh… sor-”
Maria-san seemed to have come to her senses, for she clenched the palm she had just struck me with in a flustered manner. I was quite certain that she had acted out of reflex.
She must have been a peaceable girl, once upon a time. I understood very well that she had no intention of starting a fight. It was quite clear to me that she had lost all leeway for negotiation, so there was more than enough room in my heart to take the extenuating circumstances into consideration.
Since I was able to understand that much, making amends was an easy matter. Someone who would be angered by a mere slap is no decent person, of that I am sure.
“—That hurt.”
“…Eek!”
As I nursed my cheek, our eyes meet and her face turned pale.
It was as if she were gazing upon a hateful demon from hell. As she trembled with naked fear, she twisted her hip as if to flee.
She stumbled back a step, and then another.
“Let’s have a nice, proper talk, shall we?”
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
The moment I extended my hand, she let out a shriek and fled the rooftop.
What on earth was that?
Not only had I been threatened, I had also been struck. I had been trodden underfoot. I was overwhelmingly the victim here.
Did I really seem like the villain?
Panicked beyond belief, I gazed up at the blood-red evening sky, which looked like something from another world.
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TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) The Frog Punch is one of Aoki Masaru’s finishing moves in the boxing manga Hajime no Ippo.
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Yuu-3
When I was still attending elementary school, there was something my teacher said to me.
“Chigusa-kun, you really are a beacon of excellence. You’re good at school and sports. You’re the apple of everyone’s eye. You have good parents and I’m sure you’ll become someone important one day.”
Yes, I certainly will. How did you know?
The teacher smiled at my self-satisfied response and said, “However. If you don’t take care, there will come a time when you will look down on those around you, convinced that you are number one. One day, something unexpected might happen and it will trip you up. I hope you keep that in mind. Chigusa Yuu, you’re not meant to be alone in this world. You, me, him, her. Each and every one of us is different and special…”
Rather than scolding me, my teacher’s voice sounded as if it was gently attempting to persuade me.
A deep shame fell over me for the arrogant thoughts that had filled my young heart. Even now, I can hear my teacher’s warm words whenever I close my eyes, just as I did right then.
Each and every one of us is different and special.
I see. That was exactly right.
Human lives are steeped in inequality.
I believe that people who worry about their place in the school hierarchy bear a terrible burden. They cause and receive pain through comparing apples to oranges, and they exist in perpetual conflict within the fish bowl known as the classroom.
However, it is fruitless to think of life solely in those terms. It matters not which group people belong to, or how much influence one holds within the class.
I am different from them. Justice requires only very simple classifications. Everyone else is equally worthless in my eyes. My superior qualities stand out precisely because everyone bumbles around, so clearly inferior to my beauty, sensitivity and intelligence. I must treat others with the equal care and attention they deserve.
I understand perfectly well what my teacher uttered to me.
Knowing that, I could forgive even what had happened to me today. I could forgive it with all the kindness overflowing in my heart. Here is what I shall do: increase the ten per cent interest every ten days to thirty per cent. I shall also sell the textbooks in Maria-san’s locker to a used bookseller.
Ah, but here was the rub.
This was not nearly enough to fill the hole left by those who had bailed out on me. I wonder just how much money I had lost over these past three days. Life is bounded by time. Time is money. Ergo, money is life.
When I thought about how much of my life I had lost via that syllogism, tears began to cascade down my face.
Yuu-4
You can imagine what came next.
It happened as the gears of self-interest turned in my mind, causing my tears to leak to the ground like a broken dam.
The rooftop door suddenly opened.
I had not scheduled any further visits for today. My finance trading hours were supposed to be over. I wondered if Maria-san had possibly returned with a teacher in tow. That was supposed to be an illegal move.
In the case of a dispute, bilateral talks are an absolute necessity. Regardless of how threatened one’s position is, arbitrarily bringing in a great power is a violation of the rules. This is the so-called Gian’s South China Sea principle (1).
While I am always prepared to fight using forbidden moves and underhanded tactics, there are plenty of schoolteachers who are immune to words, which is troubling indeed.
My heart started palpitating madly. I truly was unnerved. My fingers shook, and I could not even wipe away my tears.
Slowly, I turned around, and standing there was—
“H-Hey…”
—A boy with an uncomfortable look on his face.
A silence hung in the air between us.
I had never seen this person before. Indeed, I had not seen anyone like him before.
Somehow, it did not seem as if he had come to borrow money. This place might be my business office, but the types of people who frequent here are always more or less the same.
Type A: The reckless. Type B: The overly optimistic. Type C: The nihilistic.
This person completely overturned the template.
As for his physical appearance, he was, well, let’s not go there. I decided to turn a blind eye to that for now.
More than that, more than anything, he seemed diligent and simple.
If apples and oranges were to bump into each other within a cargo box, he would most certainly watch over them kindly. That was the kind of person he seemed like. There is not a single bad soul among those who would treat fruits and vegetables like humans.
Among my many virtues, having a good eye for people is my greatest trait of all. I can instantly tell the difference between people who are tiresomely persistent and those who are not. For a beautiful, perfect girl like me, the skill comes quite naturally.
That was what my unique Yuu senses were saying. I had no doubt that this person’s heart was overflowing with passionate good will.
I mean, just look at him.
He was the kind of person who, upon seeing a girl crying on the rooftop, would soften his voice and say—oh my.
“…”
Instinctively, I was holding onto his sleeve.
For a moment, I thought he would simply flee, but of course an illusion is nothing more than an illusion. There is no reason for anyone in this world to regard a pretty girl in woe as nothing more than a nuisance.
“Um…”
His fingers clasped my fingertips as if attempting to guide them to a place I could more easily hold onto, proving my suspicions. Thanks to that, I was able to cling to his uniform even more tightly.
“Um… you can let go.”
His voice was brimming with affection.
It was just like my elementary schoolteacher’s voice. My kindhearted teacher who gave me purpose in life.
“Er, um… Y-You see…”
Thinking fondly of the past, the tears flowed out of me, unbidden. If I had been encouraged to take up my finance business back then, I would have been able to afford the best mansion in Hollywood by now, complete with a pool, a theatre and a training gym. Time is money. I thought carefully about all the things that had been wasted.
“My friend hasn’t answered my calls in ages… I don’t know what to do…” Moved by his kindness, I decided to confide my circumstances to him.
“Um, that’s not…”
Cool as a cucumber, he wordlessly avoided my eyes.
I sniffed, for my nose was dripping. I understood now. What was precious to me was time. Time to make certain what had happened to my stolen money.
“It’s been three days and she hasn’t answered my calls…”
“Maybe she has a cold, or the flu, or maybe family issues…”
“If that were the case, she still would have answered my calls… She has always done that until now…”
I have experienced numerous cases of late repayments before. At such times, taking actions such as collection calls, face-to-face negotiations, anonymous letters and raw eggs would produce a clear reaction.
“So why now…?”
For her to suddenly feign ignorance now was a betrayal of our trust. People like that are inferior to mangy curs. Their incompetence is a regression to mitochondria.
People who do not return borrowed money do not deserve human rights.
“I see. I see how it is. Yep. That sure would weigh on your mind… Well, there’s something.”
“What’s something?”
“Give it for one more day, and if she still hasn’t called you, come talk to me again.”
The words he spoke to me as I shook in righteous anger were beyond my wildest expectations. “Wow… I-Is that okay?”
“Yeah. See you later.”
Even though his appearance was, well, let’s not go there, he smiled brightly and took his leave.
Just as I expected, the All-Seeing Eye of Judgement of the one beautiful girl to rule them all was flawless. Many would utter evasive words in this situation, but this person was different.
“Come talk to me again.”
He even said that to me.
The words come talk to me tend to be used quite casually, but in truth they represent an extremely weighty concept. Selfishly stating one’s own shortcomings and dragging another person into one’s own story is a devilish action. Even though problems that cannot be solved by oneself should not be solvable by others either, how can a respectably sensitive person confide in others so casually? Someone who would cheerfully confide in a person they only met yesterday is hardly a decent person.
He had still encouraged me to talk to him, even while holding firm to those convictions. I’ll bear everything for you. Oh my, how dashing.
I made up my mind. I would make this person my underling… no, I would make use of his manpower—I mean, accept his assistance—and I would look for that girl who had given me the slip.
Far more frightening than randomly occurring urban legends are human beings themselves. In this world, there is no such thing as hopes or dreams. In this city’s concrete jungle, there cannot exist a crossroad to escape from one’s pursuers.
As far as we were concerned, our random crossroad had only just begun.
==================================
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) This is a very politically loaded joke. China and its neighbours have been fighting over the ownership of a number of regions in the South China Sea for some years now. Japan has accused China of being a juvenile bully, just like Gian, an iconic character from the anime series Doraemon. So far, the United States has not taken a side in the various disputes.
===================================
Yuu-5
After making calls here and there, I finally obtained his personal information.
—Kusaoka Haruma, a second year high school student. He was one year older than me.
Since I enjoy the company of many friends (naturally), I have no trouble acquiring the name, address and phone number of the students in this school. If I expanded my network to friends of friends of friends, then it would be no exaggeration to say that I have connections to the entire student body. Connections are money. Lists of personal information are also money. In the future, I would like to become an engineer and take up work in an industry that sells USB memory large-scale.
Having said all that, I had to go to quite a lot of trouble on this occasion.
Without exception, everyone cocked their heads and said, “Kusaoka-kun…?” Once, I even heard someone say, “Kusai Wota-kun…?” which sounded mysteriously like badmouthing. There is no bullying in this school.
Did he not have many friends? I might have been tempted to make such a flawed and implausible assumption, but high school students like that do not exist in this world, of course. He was no doubt very proficient at hiding his personal details through some technique. He would not casually disseminate his contact details. That sort of diligence was inspiring. It was also unexpected to find someone so tightlipped.
By all means, I would ask for his assistance.
“As simple as pressing a button!”
Writing requests like these is one of my key strengths. I begin with a polite greeting and include an eye-catching topic that would make it easy for the recipient to reply. Not only would I use the Random Crossroad as a hook, seeing as it was a popular hotspot and whatnot, I would not forget to mention my great fear in order to stir up his desire to protect me. I would also cover the letter with a moderate number of love hearts expressing my charm.
It was a beautiful message.
A romantic message, overflowing with the love and youthfulness befitting a beautiful, perfect girl like me.
“Hmm…”
However, I was beset with a peculiar feeling that something was not quite right.
Ordinary means might not work on someone who would conceal his personal details like Kusaoka-san did. I figured that I ought to try using another form of leverage.
“…All right.”
As I gazed at the deep red, stew-coloured sunset, I raised my fist into the air.
=NASA: “The irregularities in the incoming data cannot be explained…”
[Popular Series] Solar Physics Lecture No. 666
Has Mankind Forgotten His Dream to Reach the Sky…?
Doubts about “Metal Traces” Found in 230 Million Year-old Meteorite
=Heated Exchange between Researchers at Snap Meeting…
Death of Cambridge Professor
=Predicted the Existence of Wormholes; in Later Years He Predicted Tragedy…
Arrest of Man who Claims: “The Aliens Will Come Again…”
Scribbles Found in Science Museum in Tokyo’s Taito Ward…
The Continued Failure of Rocket Launches
“Unknown Causes”: Citizens Losing Faith…
Haruma-1
The short homeroom period functions much like a starting gate. At the signal announcing the end of school, the racers inside the classroom make their move.
However, not all those gathered here were thoroughbreds, picked and bred for the occasion. They ranged from swift horses to fillies, packhorses to asses, piglets to raccoon dogs. There were foxes, cats, Mount Fuji, hawks, eggplants—well, you get the picture (1). The classroom was a place where different tribes duked it out in a game of thrones. Among those buzzing, prattling voices, reverberating through the room like little ripples, one could make out a horse’s whinny, a wolf’s howl and even a frog’s croak. In the midst of all this croaking and croooooaking, I, too, had been crying for some time now.
School club goers, movie/karaoke goers, lazy-asses-who-would-come-up-with-something—everyone had their afterschool plans in mind as they turned their gazes towards the teacher’s platform.
“Lately, there have been reports of young people going missing. Are you all aware of this?” asked the homeroom teacher Kuriu-sensei in a composed tone of voice one might also describe as bland. “Be careful going home if you finish late because of club activities and whatnot. No stopping for detours or going out after dark.”
As she spoke, she raised a stern finger and gazed slowly around the room at each and every student, not that the students were having any of it. The complaints poured out of them like squeals from a bunch of piglets.
“Aww!”
“That stinks!”
The whining rose to a crescendo from boys and girls alike, sweeping through the entire classroom. The only one who didn’t get defiant was basically the person who ignored the entire conversation in favour of internet news topics—me.
Kuriu-sensei lightly clapped her hands in an effort to stifle the dissenting voices. “I understand that you want to have fun. But if something were ever to happen to all of you, I would be very sad… so please show me your happy faces tomorrow. All right, that ends today’s homeroom. Goodbye, everyone.”
The moment she uttered those gentle parting words, all hell broke loose from the students.
There were some who launched themselves out of the classroom, others who hung around chattering in a group, and still others who beckoned over here or over there. Each and every one of them had been liberated by that wrinkle in time known as “the afterschool hours”.
These people can be sorted into three broad categories.
First, there are the goody-two-shoes club-goers. Some pour themselves into their club activities day and night, while others chill out and have a good time. Generally speaking, however, they all spend most of their school life doing club activities.
Next, we have the popular clique. They’re keenly aware of the link between work and school, and thus mainly live their lives in the pursuit of afterschool fun: karaoke, bowling, darts, billiards and, last but not least, love-related matters. Their quintessential high school lives overflow with youthful radiance. They’re pretty much the kind of people who tend to use phrases like “all-nighter”, “glugging” and “getting smashed”.
Finally, let’s not forget the “my way is the highway” people who live for their hobbies. In all likelihood, their anime, manga and games were shunned in ages past. While they might still be seen as social outcasts in today’s world, they don’t experience that fate at this school. Both sexes are equally enthusiastic about the current anime season and their favourite seiyuu. Those kids have a lot of influence in this class.
These three groups intermingled, only occasionally breaking away into clearly defined cliques. They were woven into the very fabric of school life. Even the most diligent club-goer falls in love, and the popular kids read Weekly Shonen Jump. The otaku go out in mixed-gender groups to sing karaoke on their way home from school. In fact, messy love problems were a relatively common affair in the otaku circle. Specifically, it’s awkward when so many ugly people make out in public.
Kids these days—they’re ruled by their hormones. Their lives are full of illicit fraternising. Man, they mingle with alien species so much it makes me wonder if they want to work for NASA. It takes one short hour for them to say I’ll be right here.
Castes and groups may vary, but they all offer the same things: friendship, love, hobbies—and a way to live out one’s youth. However, to compensate, one is bound hand and foot by time, appointments and social obligations.
What a sad state of affairs…
Ordinarily, controlling time and people’s plans is what an overlord would do, but even that is beyond their capabilities… Ahaha! What a shame! Sucks to be them! Between me and them, it should be obvious who deserves pity!
Haruma-2
Since it really was in quite a sad state of affairs, I hurried out of the classroom to go study in the library instead. Now that it’s May, I pretty much spend all my time like this. I have neither cash nor people to hang out with—no club activities either. The only reason I have no one to hang out with is because I have no use for idiots and losers. But the fact that I don’t hang out with smart or good-looking people is a huge dilemma! How did it come to this?!
Basically, the one thing I had going for me was time. I make optimal use of what I have, as one should.
Besides reading and studying, I play with my cell phone from time to time and mess around on mobile games. Since I abide by the principle of never paying a cent on games, when I run out of action points in a game I just study and read until they recharge.
Okay, I’m good. I really do make excellent use of my time. Studying totally comes in handy in the future, so I’m not wasting my high school life in the slightest. I’m good, yep. N-no problem here, folks…
I whipped my gaze towards the window in an attempt to rejuvenate my tired, leaden eyes. It was already evening.
The school building was probably vacated by now. Perfect. Time to do those service club activities Amane-chan shoved down my throat at lunch time. I mean, performing such a conspicuous activity out in the open would spell death in the jungle. The same thing went for the concrete jungle.
I left the library and walked down the hallway. As I climbed up the stairs—first floor, then second, then third—the voices from the grounds became ever more distant. The human presence thinned out as well. They say that the air becomes thinner at high places, but isn’t that because the air is too thick on the ground?
I came, I read, I ran away. When the air is thick, it’s even more suffocating. It makes me think idiotic things, like that I’d gone on a different evolutionary path or something. Well, you know what they say about fools and high places. Only idiots get information, it seems.
Still, just who was it who came up with the idea of belittling people who aim high?
Obviously, someone who couldn’t reach the sky. They could probably only derive satisfaction from looking down on those who climbed to the high places that they themselves could never attain.
For that reason, I didn’t dislike the idea of approaching the sky, one floor at a time. That way, I can stay true to my conviction that detaching oneself from the world is the right thing to do.
Eventually, the sunset-tinted glass staircase ended at the landing in front of the roof. There was a door leading straight to the rooftop, but it was always locked, so students could not freely come and go.
This had to be the place Amane-chan was talking about.
Glancing around, I could see it was indeed a bit grimy. Dust balls had gathered in the corners, and buckets were strewn around the place. Oh, and the door of the cleaning locker featured a massive dent, as if someone had kicked it in.
When I tried to pull the locker open, it wouldn’t budge, so I then decided to tackle the problem with force.
And at that moment—
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
A bloodcurdling scream rang out. With a frenzied rattle that seemed to shake the entire roof, the doorknob turned and the door swung open.
A female student sprang out like a jack in the box. I thought we were going to collide, but I somehow got out of the way, at which point the girl darted down the stairs in one leap without so much as a backward glance.
“…What was that just now?”
I thought crashing into another person leads to a beautiful romance. But that roar just now was a whole new level of strange, unheard of in daily life… And holy crap, has no one been regulating entry to the rooftop? I wondered as I peered at the roof in trepidation.
The door was still ajar, having been flung wide open. Beyond it lay the slightly grimy mortar ground, perfectly level and secluded. Confronted with an unfamiliar scene, my feet stepped forward on their own accord.
A red, red sky.
The glow of the sunset was eerily beautiful, enough to make my hair stand on end. The cityscape appeared to be ablaze, and the sixty-story high-rise buildings resembled headstones dripping with blood.
Thoroughly shaken, I walked over to the fence. There, standing in a corner that had been just outside my vision until I drew near, was a girl.
Her bright red cheeks were dyed in the sun’s afterglow, and her jet black hair was like a raven’s feathers, dissolving into the darkness of the night. The girl stood in the precipice between two worlds, receiving the sunlight in front of her and saddling the night behind her.
Chigusa Yuu was gazing at the sunset with misty eyes as a single tear rolled down her pale cheek.
Instinctively, I knew that I was not supposed to talk to her. For one thing, I have no idea what to say to a crying girl. For another, I have no idea what to say to a girl full stop.
More than anything, I could not bear to interrupt this utterly magnificent scene of a beautiful girl crying in the sunset.
As I drew back quietly in an attempt to leave the rooftop, Chigusa swung around like a flash and noticed me.
Silence.
Chigusa gazed at me with a blank and mystified expression, as if she had just discovered a masked palm civet in the middle of town (1). Meanwhile, tears continued to trickle down the corner of her eyes.
“H-Hey…”
Making eye contact with someone and not saying anything is generally a bad idea. Having said that, spouting polite formalities at a younger person is even worse. However, talking like a Frenchman (“What ails you, mademoiselle? A weeping heart spoils this wonderful sunset”) is equally stupid. Wait, that might be how an Italian speaks. In the end, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a grunt so devoid of meaning it made me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Chigusa’s expression didn’t flicker. No reaction at all. She continued to look at me as if I were some kind of exotic beast.
A silence hung in the air between us.
…I recognise this. I recognise this vibe! It’s like when Amane-chan cries at home!
Whenever you talk to a blubbering girl, they tell you, “I’m fine, so leave me alone.” However, if you leave them alone, they say, “Why aren’t you asking anything?” And if you actually do ask them what’s bothering them, what they tell you is complete crap no one cares about.
They start off blubbering and end up jabbering—don’t be swayed by a girl’s tears.
In an attempt to leave before things got messy, I gave her my best meek-mannered smile, bowed politely in her direction and swung around.
Just then, I felt someone grab my blazer sleeve.
When I cast a glance sideways, Chigusa was clinging to my sleeve with her tiny hand.
“…”
Her fingers possessed a silent yet steely resolve, holding fast to my sleeve unflinchingly.
“Um…” I said as I peeled Chigusa’s fingers off me slowly. I was stunned at how long, pretty and slender her fingers were, but I forced down the jolt that went through me.
At times like these, one shouldn’t respond too much.
I mean, women are delicate creatures. They should be handled with extreme care—they’re literally made of glass. Even if they do something wrong, one shouldn’t treat them like a tumour. Women are sensitive about the way they’re treated, so they burst into unnecessary hysterics—they’re literally marbles.
Yet Chigusa, undeterred, summoned the strength in her fingers once again and gripped me even harder. The way she looked up at me with those teary eyes almost stopped my breath.
Her thin shoulders trembled with anxiety, and a barely discernible sigh slipped past her alluring lips. Chigusa and I were so close that she wouldn’t even have to take a step forward to fall into my arms.
…I wasn’t about to fall for that trick, though. I had been schooled for seventeen years in my sister’s “Real-life Horror Story: A Girl’s True Nature” course. Not that it was worth any credits.
“Um… you can let go,” I said as calmly as I possibly could, all the while preparing to flee from this place.
But then a tear streaked down Chigusa’s face once again. “Er, um…” she uttered. “Y-You see… my friend hasn’t answered my calls in ages… I don’t know what to do…”
“Um, that’s not…”
What the hell was she spouting? Was she really okay with saying all that? Regardless, Chigusa went on as if my voice had failed to reach her.
“It’s been three days and she hasn’t answered my calls…”
Wow, that’s short. Hey now, it’s been over a month since I last made contact with my classmates. And we’re in the same classroom, damn it…
“Maybe she has a cold, or the flu, or maybe family issues…”
“If that were the case, she still would have answered my calls… She has always done that until now… so why now…?” Chigusa seemed to be holding herself back, but she still let slip a muffled sob.
“I see. I see how it is. Yep. That sure would weigh on your mind.”
From the way Chigusa was talking about it, it didn’t seem like her situation would work out, so I remembered my sister’s teachings and decided to hear Chigusa out for the time being. If Amane-chan’s case was anything to go by, a girl would be halfway done with her spiel at this point. The other half of the conversation was guaranteed to be bitching behind her friend’s back, yep! Damn, girls are scary!
That’s how it seems to be when it comes to friends and besties, though. When you fall out of contact with them, it weighs on your mind and you end up arguing with them…
To be quite honest, I find it difficult to understand.
Keeping close contact with a friend and then starting a fight out of insecurity, or otherwise crying buckets over it—such actions have a way of taking over a person’s life, making “best friends” little more than a formality. I’m inclined to think of those actions as highly calculated—ritualistic, even.
Frankly, I think it’s ugly.
And yet—
Those tears were beautiful.
Regardless of her intent, the sight of those tears melting into the sunset was captivatingly beautiful.
“Well, there’s something.”
That was what I managed to come up with after fumbling my words. It prompted Chigusa to tilt her head and peer at me.
“What’s something?”
What’s something indeed? Don’t ask something like that with such a cute face, damn it. This wasn’t a modern literature question where you had to point to the correct answer, you know…
Still, I had a whole wealth of experience for times like these.
“Give it for one more day, and if she still hasn’t called you, come talk to me again.”
Awwright, this was the “Huh? You want to exchange phone numbers? …Ohh, uh, my cell phone batteries are dead right now, so I’ll text it to you later, okay?” strategy I learned from the first day of class. Just how did that girl plan to text me when she didn’t know my number…?
Yet even those evasive words did not seem to deter Chigusa. Her eyes lit up. “Wow… I-Is that okay?”
“Yeah. See you later.” I smiled brightly and waved, prompting her to bob her head eagerly. Ahh, what a nice girl.
If I could speak, you would understand. Such fine words. The Prime Minister who said that was summarily murdered, for dialogue is useless. Maybe the guy who killed him was part of the cat faction. He really wouldn’t get along with poor Inukai-san (2).
As the girl in front of me bowed her head, I quickly took my leave.
We would never meet again anyway. A pure and sweet young beauty like Chigusa Yuu had nothing in common with a lone wolf like Kusaoka Haruma.
I entered the school building, closing the door to the roof softly behind me.
================================
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) Masked palm civets are cat-sized mammals mostly found in rural Japan, although more and more of them have been discovered in urban areas in recent years. A number of recent high-profile confrontations between masked palm civets and humans in Tokyo have turned the animals into something of an internet meme. See for example: http://en.rocketnews24.com/2014/11/16/police-called-in-for-civet-disturbance-in-tokyo/
(2) There are two parts to this joke. The first part is a reference to the May 15 Incident of 1932, when eleven young Imperial Japanese Navy officers shot the Prime Minister Inukai Tsuyoshi. Inukai’s last words were roughly If I could speak, you would understand, to which his killers replied Dialogue is useless. This event helped spur Japan’s militarism, which led to the eventual Second Sino-Japanese War. The second part of the joke is that the ‘inu’ in ‘Inukai’ means dog. In Japan, lovers of dogs or cats identify as part of the “dog faction” or “cat faction” respectively, and these two factions are supposedly at war with each other.
================================
Yuu-1
If I had to name one thing I loathe in regards to entertainment, it would be stories that depict misunderstandings.
This thought always occurs to me whenever I watch dramas, listen to operas or read a novel. No matter how sophisticated the theme is, I feel disgusted whenever the characters misunderstand each other in a ham-fisted manner.
Our time is finite. No person can live forever. No matter how great of a human being one is—even if that person happened to be a flawless and all-knowing god or a superior life form of equivalent virtue, blessed with good looks and peerless intellect—the human lifespan is predetermined.
What lies ahead of us is sweet despair.
The harsh extinction of one’s consciousness. A nightmare that stretches into eternity. A snare that reaches into the void.
Every day we live, we edge one step closer to death. There is no guarantee that one will live to see tomorrow.
Every time I watch a story that wastes time on misunderstandings, I want to scream. Do they really have that much time to spare in their lives? Do they have nothing in common? So why do they do it? They may invent feelings and concoct encounters, but in the end it is all about themselves. Instead of paying any heed whatsoever to the person they misunderstood, they focus solely on their own story.
Is there really anything in this world more terrible than dying out of lack of anything better to do?
Yuu-2
“—So then, could you please lay off with the threats…?” I complained with all the pathos I could muster.
Two long shadows stretched across the roof. The dusk-filled May air was clear even this high above ground, and wispy illusions fell across the surroundings. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded as if it was petering off into the wind, weak and flimsy. I thought that something must have happened because the ground shook beneath my feet, but then I realised that my legs were wobbling like jelly.
“Dying, killing. Please don’t utter such mortifying words so casually…”
“Whatchu say?!”
The girl in front of me—Maria-san—raised her voice in anger as she shot me a glare.
It was a dreadful look.
She backed me against the fence and opened her mouth wide, as if threatening to eat me up right that minute. She resembled some sort of hypertrophied bullfrog.
I regretted not bringing along any recording equipment. If I had possession of the deplorable parts of her speech that, mere moments ago, had included liberal use of unspeakable words, I imagine the foul language would be reined in rather quickly and effectively.
Of course, I would not actually do it. Even now, I still thought of her as a friend. Selling out a friend was the one thing I did not want to do.
“Please, calm yourself down…” I said, recoiling.
Unfortunately, that only had the effect of pouring oil on a fire.
“Chigusa—you think you’re in any position to say that?!”
Maria-san banged her fist against the fence, breathing wildly. Her frog punch made such an explosive impact it threatened to split open my ears (1). I nearly curled up like an armadillo at the sound of it.
She had a point: when one compared our relative standings, I had no right to complain. No matter how much societal values change, the weak can only blindly follow the strong.
And yet, even so…
“I only want to ask where Shia-san is…”
I attempted to talk things through.
If I could speak, you would understand—those are famous words. They are supposed to be a universal human principle. That goes for everyone: Prime Ministers and assassins, editors and novelists penning the beginning of their stories well past the deadline, and bill collectors and a debt-ridden person on the verge of bankruptcy alike.
After all, we have no reason not to understand after talking things through.
“If she doesn’t call me, I’ll be in trouble… My money…”
“That’s the only thing that comes out of your gob—money, money, money! Don’t you have something else that’s important to you?!” she yelled at me, causing me to recoil once again. That did not sound like the words of someone who would cheerfully borrow someone else’s money.
Had I made a mistake? What was this “something else that’s important” she mentioned?
Figuring I had better take stock of the situation, I glanced around. Beyond the cluster of inner city buildings towering over the surroundings like a forest of bamboo shoots, an unusually large evening sun was melting into the horizon.
Today, the world was painted in a shade of red darker than even fresh blood. Though some might claim that the deep, dark redness is chilling, to me it sparkled brilliantly, like a cut diamond. It is not much to brag about, but the view from my school rooftop is undoubtedly one of those things that cannot be bought with money.
As I gazed down upon that spectacular sunset view, I thought to myself: in this ephemeral human existence, what is most important?
—Money, of course.
There is nothing that cannot be bought with money. In the unlikely event that something priceless existed, it would not be worth one micron in this capitalist society, so it is the same as not existing. It is really nothing to brag about.
A cut diamond? Our society believes more in cold, hard cash than jewellery, so that sort of thing is rather dubious.
Yes, I was fairly certain I had not made a mistake.
Feeling relieved, I turned back to Maria-san. “If you cannot tell me, I really will be in trouble. I will be neck deep in trouble. Running off with borrowed money is a grave offence in today’s business world.”
These days, more and more young people have been vanishing into the night. People with many dreams—or, to put it bluntly, those who are severely wanting in any form of plan for their lives—are the prime targets for money lending, although recently they have been delaying their repayments at an unusual rate. I can only assume that they got together behind the scenes and made off with my finances.
I, too, have been slighted. This would be the only time that a girl who appears as delicate and beautiful on the outside as I would ever be so reproachful.
“L-Like I said, it’s the Random Crossroad!”
“Uh-huh.”
“For sure she disappeared because of that urban legend!”
“I’ve heard quite enough,” I sighed, shaking my hand limply.
Maria-san had a very firm friendship with that aimless girl, and now she wanted to make use of my finances for herself.
Even as she received life as a frog, she had unrealistic dreams of becoming a swan, and so she would rely on another person’s money. Frogs are frogs, after all. Ribbit ribbit ribbit. They sing their habitual song, the artefact of the simple and easy existence they ought to aspire to.
Everyone who is not me ought to become a frog. That being said, if the world did happen to be a village of a hundred frogs, I would instantly leave it for a human village.
It takes one to know one: a frog to know a frog, and a person swamped in debt to know the thought process of a person swamped in debt.
Thus, I called her and attempted to speak to her, only to hear it was all because of some urban legend.
The so-called Random Crossroad.
The scene: a road curve in a residential area, gleaming with orange light from a convex traffic mirror. If you walk down the path at midnight holding hands with your lover, four roads appear at the end of the crossroad. If you choose the wrong path, you may never return.
“What a trifling matter…”
I know not about randomness or romantic interludes, but I prefer to stay within means, even when it comes to how I am insulted. It is quite all right to be frightened by the occult until you are in grade school. It is fine to think of dates and liaisons until you are in middle school. That’s all well and good, but I would prefer to have my money back.
“Maria-san, if you are unwilling to be straight with me, I may or may not increase the rate of interest on your loan.”
“I can’t believe you…! Die! Piss off!”
Once again, she used very mortifying vocabulary. My legs shook beneath me.
I simply could not die and leave things the way they were, not when I had failed to collect the average two hundred per cent return on the money I lent.
“Besides, I only borrowed thirty grand. Why is it up to fifty, no, a hundred grand?”
“It went from forty thousand to five hundred thousand, to be precise.”
“What a rip-off!”
“I explained to you about the interest rate when I lent it to you. At the time you were putting your seal on the blank IOU, nothing would sway you.”
“No way… I mean, it went up so much…”
It always turns out like this. Debtors are all the same. When they borrow, they do so happily, but when the time comes for them to return the money, they grumble about so many trivial things. Honestly, it makes me wonder if there is a business in betraying people who would lend money out of the goodness in their hearts.
“You may consult your parents on the matter. For my part, I will prepare an explanation as to what you planned to use the money for.”
Maria-san had borrowed money to go on an overnight trip with her secret boyfriend. I was able to save a number of photos of the happy couple in my image folder, photos that seemed to hold multiple meanings. Transmitting photo attachments of the lovey-dovey pair is a simple matter.
“Urk…”
A flustered Maria-san gripped the fence and stood stock still.
It was clear as day that the two of us were high above ground—even a monkey would be aware of that fact. If this were a case of armadillo versus frog, the armadillo would simply roll over and splat—that would be the end of that. It would not even take three seconds to achieve an easy victory. And so, even if the weak can only follow the strong, I was nonetheless willing to come to a compromise through talking. I would certainly appreciate it if Maria-san lent her assistance, however.
“All you need to do is tell me where she is. I’m quite sure it won’t be any trouble to you at all, Maria-san. I will handle the rest.”
“Why are you so hung up on Shia…? You’ve already made enough profit, so why don’t you just leave her alone…?”
“Why, you ask? Are we not friends?” I said with a smile.
Debtors who return money are good friends. At the very least, I record them on my friends list.
On that note, the principle of “don’t let them live, but don’t let them die” is standard practice in the profession known as moneylending. Only a fool would let go of friends who produce money. Friendship is beautiful when it is backed by cold, hard reality, unfettered by flimsy illusions.
“You…” I wonder if Maria-san was moved as well. Her cheeks were blushing bright red.
She gazed at me with narrowed eyes overflowing with violent emotion and said:
“You… bitch!”
All of a sudden, a sound rang out, perfectly tonal and aesthetically pleasing.
She struck me on the cheek. She struck me.
At the same instant I realised this fact, my cheek began to twinge with pain.
“Er, uh… sor-”
Maria-san seemed to have come to her senses, for she clenched the palm she had just struck me with in a flustered manner. I was quite certain that she had acted out of reflex.
She must have been a peaceable girl, once upon a time. I understood very well that she had no intention of starting a fight. It was quite clear to me that she had lost all leeway for negotiation, so there was more than enough room in my heart to take the extenuating circumstances into consideration.
Since I was able to understand that much, making amends was an easy matter. Someone who would be angered by a mere slap is no decent person, of that I am sure.
“—That hurt.”
“…Eek!”
As I nursed my cheek, our eyes meet and her face turned pale.
It was as if she were gazing upon a hateful demon from hell. As she trembled with naked fear, she twisted her hip as if to flee.
She stumbled back a step, and then another.
“Let’s have a nice, proper talk, shall we?”
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
The moment I extended my hand, she let out a shriek and fled the rooftop.
What on earth was that?
Not only had I been threatened, I had also been struck. I had been trodden underfoot. I was overwhelmingly the victim here.
Did I really seem like the villain?
Panicked beyond belief, I gazed up at the blood-red evening sky, which looked like something from another world.
==================================
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) The Frog Punch is one of Aoki Masaru’s finishing moves in the boxing manga Hajime no Ippo.
============================
Yuu-3
When I was still attending elementary school, there was something my teacher said to me.
“Chigusa-kun, you really are a beacon of excellence. You’re good at school and sports. You’re the apple of everyone’s eye. You have good parents and I’m sure you’ll become someone important one day.”
Yes, I certainly will. How did you know?
The teacher smiled at my self-satisfied response and said, “However. If you don’t take care, there will come a time when you will look down on those around you, convinced that you are number one. One day, something unexpected might happen and it will trip you up. I hope you keep that in mind. Chigusa Yuu, you’re not meant to be alone in this world. You, me, him, her. Each and every one of us is different and special…”
Rather than scolding me, my teacher’s voice sounded as if it was gently attempting to persuade me.
A deep shame fell over me for the arrogant thoughts that had filled my young heart. Even now, I can hear my teacher’s warm words whenever I close my eyes, just as I did right then.
Each and every one of us is different and special.
I see. That was exactly right.
Human lives are steeped in inequality.
I believe that people who worry about their place in the school hierarchy bear a terrible burden. They cause and receive pain through comparing apples to oranges, and they exist in perpetual conflict within the fish bowl known as the classroom.
However, it is fruitless to think of life solely in those terms. It matters not which group people belong to, or how much influence one holds within the class.
I am different from them. Justice requires only very simple classifications. Everyone else is equally worthless in my eyes. My superior qualities stand out precisely because everyone bumbles around, so clearly inferior to my beauty, sensitivity and intelligence. I must treat others with the equal care and attention they deserve.
I understand perfectly well what my teacher uttered to me.
Knowing that, I could forgive even what had happened to me today. I could forgive it with all the kindness overflowing in my heart. Here is what I shall do: increase the ten per cent interest every ten days to thirty per cent. I shall also sell the textbooks in Maria-san’s locker to a used bookseller.
Ah, but here was the rub.
This was not nearly enough to fill the hole left by those who had bailed out on me. I wonder just how much money I had lost over these past three days. Life is bounded by time. Time is money. Ergo, money is life.
When I thought about how much of my life I had lost via that syllogism, tears began to cascade down my face.
Yuu-4
You can imagine what came next.
It happened as the gears of self-interest turned in my mind, causing my tears to leak to the ground like a broken dam.
The rooftop door suddenly opened.
I had not scheduled any further visits for today. My finance trading hours were supposed to be over. I wondered if Maria-san had possibly returned with a teacher in tow. That was supposed to be an illegal move.
In the case of a dispute, bilateral talks are an absolute necessity. Regardless of how threatened one’s position is, arbitrarily bringing in a great power is a violation of the rules. This is the so-called Gian’s South China Sea principle (1).
While I am always prepared to fight using forbidden moves and underhanded tactics, there are plenty of schoolteachers who are immune to words, which is troubling indeed.
My heart started palpitating madly. I truly was unnerved. My fingers shook, and I could not even wipe away my tears.
Slowly, I turned around, and standing there was—
“H-Hey…”
—A boy with an uncomfortable look on his face.
A silence hung in the air between us.
I had never seen this person before. Indeed, I had not seen anyone like him before.
Somehow, it did not seem as if he had come to borrow money. This place might be my business office, but the types of people who frequent here are always more or less the same.
Type A: The reckless. Type B: The overly optimistic. Type C: The nihilistic.
This person completely overturned the template.
As for his physical appearance, he was, well, let’s not go there. I decided to turn a blind eye to that for now.
More than that, more than anything, he seemed diligent and simple.
If apples and oranges were to bump into each other within a cargo box, he would most certainly watch over them kindly. That was the kind of person he seemed like. There is not a single bad soul among those who would treat fruits and vegetables like humans.
Among my many virtues, having a good eye for people is my greatest trait of all. I can instantly tell the difference between people who are tiresomely persistent and those who are not. For a beautiful, perfect girl like me, the skill comes quite naturally.
That was what my unique Yuu senses were saying. I had no doubt that this person’s heart was overflowing with passionate good will.
I mean, just look at him.
He was the kind of person who, upon seeing a girl crying on the rooftop, would soften his voice and say—oh my.
“…”
Instinctively, I was holding onto his sleeve.
For a moment, I thought he would simply flee, but of course an illusion is nothing more than an illusion. There is no reason for anyone in this world to regard a pretty girl in woe as nothing more than a nuisance.
“Um…”
His fingers clasped my fingertips as if attempting to guide them to a place I could more easily hold onto, proving my suspicions. Thanks to that, I was able to cling to his uniform even more tightly.
“Um… you can let go.”
His voice was brimming with affection.
It was just like my elementary schoolteacher’s voice. My kindhearted teacher who gave me purpose in life.
“Er, um… Y-You see…”
Thinking fondly of the past, the tears flowed out of me, unbidden. If I had been encouraged to take up my finance business back then, I would have been able to afford the best mansion in Hollywood by now, complete with a pool, a theatre and a training gym. Time is money. I thought carefully about all the things that had been wasted.
“My friend hasn’t answered my calls in ages… I don’t know what to do…” Moved by his kindness, I decided to confide my circumstances to him.
“Um, that’s not…”
Cool as a cucumber, he wordlessly avoided my eyes.
I sniffed, for my nose was dripping. I understood now. What was precious to me was time. Time to make certain what had happened to my stolen money.
“It’s been three days and she hasn’t answered my calls…”
“Maybe she has a cold, or the flu, or maybe family issues…”
“If that were the case, she still would have answered my calls… She has always done that until now…”
I have experienced numerous cases of late repayments before. At such times, taking actions such as collection calls, face-to-face negotiations, anonymous letters and raw eggs would produce a clear reaction.
“So why now…?”
For her to suddenly feign ignorance now was a betrayal of our trust. People like that are inferior to mangy curs. Their incompetence is a regression to mitochondria.
People who do not return borrowed money do not deserve human rights.
“I see. I see how it is. Yep. That sure would weigh on your mind… Well, there’s something.”
“What’s something?”
“Give it for one more day, and if she still hasn’t called you, come talk to me again.”
The words he spoke to me as I shook in righteous anger were beyond my wildest expectations. “Wow… I-Is that okay?”
“Yeah. See you later.”
Even though his appearance was, well, let’s not go there, he smiled brightly and took his leave.
Just as I expected, the All-Seeing Eye of Judgement of the one beautiful girl to rule them all was flawless. Many would utter evasive words in this situation, but this person was different.
“Come talk to me again.”
He even said that to me.
The words come talk to me tend to be used quite casually, but in truth they represent an extremely weighty concept. Selfishly stating one’s own shortcomings and dragging another person into one’s own story is a devilish action. Even though problems that cannot be solved by oneself should not be solvable by others either, how can a respectably sensitive person confide in others so casually? Someone who would cheerfully confide in a person they only met yesterday is hardly a decent person.
He had still encouraged me to talk to him, even while holding firm to those convictions. I’ll bear everything for you. Oh my, how dashing.
I made up my mind. I would make this person my underling… no, I would make use of his manpower—I mean, accept his assistance—and I would look for that girl who had given me the slip.
Far more frightening than randomly occurring urban legends are human beings themselves. In this world, there is no such thing as hopes or dreams. In this city’s concrete jungle, there cannot exist a crossroad to escape from one’s pursuers.
As far as we were concerned, our random crossroad had only just begun.
==================================
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) This is a very politically loaded joke. China and its neighbours have been fighting over the ownership of a number of regions in the South China Sea for some years now. Japan has accused China of being a juvenile bully, just like Gian, an iconic character from the anime series Doraemon. So far, the United States has not taken a side in the various disputes.
===================================
Yuu-5
After making calls here and there, I finally obtained his personal information.
—Kusaoka Haruma, a second year high school student. He was one year older than me.
Since I enjoy the company of many friends (naturally), I have no trouble acquiring the name, address and phone number of the students in this school. If I expanded my network to friends of friends of friends, then it would be no exaggeration to say that I have connections to the entire student body. Connections are money. Lists of personal information are also money. In the future, I would like to become an engineer and take up work in an industry that sells USB memory large-scale.
Having said all that, I had to go to quite a lot of trouble on this occasion.
Without exception, everyone cocked their heads and said, “Kusaoka-kun…?” Once, I even heard someone say, “Kusai Wota-kun…?” which sounded mysteriously like badmouthing. There is no bullying in this school.
Did he not have many friends? I might have been tempted to make such a flawed and implausible assumption, but high school students like that do not exist in this world, of course. He was no doubt very proficient at hiding his personal details through some technique. He would not casually disseminate his contact details. That sort of diligence was inspiring. It was also unexpected to find someone so tightlipped.
By all means, I would ask for his assistance.
“As simple as pressing a button!”
Writing requests like these is one of my key strengths. I begin with a polite greeting and include an eye-catching topic that would make it easy for the recipient to reply. Not only would I use the Random Crossroad as a hook, seeing as it was a popular hotspot and whatnot, I would not forget to mention my great fear in order to stir up his desire to protect me. I would also cover the letter with a moderate number of love hearts expressing my charm.
It was a beautiful message.
A romantic message, overflowing with the love and youthfulness befitting a beautiful, perfect girl like me.
“Hmm…”
However, I was beset with a peculiar feeling that something was not quite right.
Ordinary means might not work on someone who would conceal his personal details like Kusaoka-san did. I figured that I ought to try using another form of leverage.
“…All right.”
As I gazed at the deep red, stew-coloured sunset, I raised my fist into the air.
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