The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl

by Tomihiko Morimi

  “How is faux electric brandy different from electric brandy?”

  “The recipe for electric brandy is kept under lock and key, but an employee of the Kyoto Central Telephone Company attempted to re-create the flavor. After a bunch of trial and error, he hit a total dead end when he made a miraculous discovery—faux electric brandy. It was made only by coincidence, so it doesn’t taste or smell anything like electric brandy.”

  “Do they use electricity to make it?”

  “Maybe. I mean, they call it ‘electric’ brandy, so…” He snickered. “They’re still making it somewhere these days and delivering it into the streets of the night.”

  A little brick factory reminiscent of the Meiji period came to mind. Inside, electrical wires run all around, and golden sparks fly. It’s less like a distillery and more like a cross between a chemistry lab and a transformer substation. I imagined frowning artisans carefully adjusting the voltage according to the top-secret recipe. It’s only natural they’d frown—if the voltage was even slightly off, the taste of the faux electric brandy would change. Eventually, a liquid giving off a peculiar fragrance is poured into clear flasks. I wonder who came up with such a funteresting idea as making alcohol with electricity.

  I grew so curious, there was a good chance I’d burst right there on the street.

  “Ahhh, I would really like to try it.”

  Mr. Todou learned about this drink from an elderly man named Rihaku. He told me they got to know each other through the course of Mr. Todou borrowing funds for the maintenance of his koi fish center.

  Mr. Rihaku was a famous character around the Kiyamachi Ponto-cho area, a very wealthy man who showed up by private car and could drink without ever stopping. He was an inveterate idler who served up faux electric brandy while endlessly entertaining himself.

  The world at night struck me as a very strange place.

  The bar Mr. Todou brought me to was on the top floor of a building towering on the east side of Kiyamachi Avenue. The building was so old and full of junk that it felt as if we were entering some ruins.

  When he pushed the heavy door open, dim light spilled out into the hallway, and I could make out the quiet voices of the patrons inside. The bar was grim, and the dingy couches and chairs seemed to have been picked up off the street; handwritten menus were stuck to the wall. Bookcases were crammed with old magazines in drab colors. Customers chatted while camped out wherever they pleased, whether on the couches or chairs.

  I drank the shochu Mr. Todou recommended.

  “Let’s drink to your happiness. Cheers.”

  He sipped his own shochu and told me about his daughter. She was a little older than I was, but apparently, they hadn’t seen each other much ever since he and his wife got divorced five years ago. It seemed his daughter wasn’t very interested in meeting him. What a sad story. As he talked, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand only once.

  “The only thing parents wish for their children is that they’re happy. I’m sure your folks feel the same way. As a parent, I understand.”

  “Being happy is actually pretty hard, though.”

  “Of course, that’s true. And it’s something we can’t just give to the kids. Everyone has to search out their own happiness for themselves. But I’d do anything to help my daughter find hers.”

  I strongly felt he was a wonderful person. What a purehearted man.

  “Young lady, the constructive way to worry is to ask yourself what happiness is to you. If you never stop asking yourself that question, life will be worthwhile,” he declared.

  “What is happiness to you, Mr. Todou?”

  He took my hand in his.

  “Meeting a passerby and having a fun time with them like this. This right now may very well be my happiness.”

  He took a small wooden carving out of his bundle and placed it in the palm of my hand.

  “I’ll give you this charm for protection.”

  I guess it was a small sculpture, or a netsuke? It was a strange object shaped like a cannon pointing diagonally upward. When I rolled it around in my hand to admire the details, it started to seem like a slimy deep-sea creature. I thought maybe it was a koi fish sculpted in a bizarrific way.

  “Take good care of it.”

  “They say koi fish that climb waterfalls become dragons—in other words, koi are a symbol of success in life. Like those koi-shaped streamers. They’ve been auspicious fish for a long time. One of the floats in the Gion Festival is decorated with an enormous koi fish climbing the Dragon Gate Falls. Do you know the saying about making it up to the dragon gate? It’s…”

  Between knowledge dumps, he stared at my hands, sighing, “You have nice hands” and “Cute hands.” There’s absolutely nothing interesting about my hands. I’m sure a pastry shaped like a maple leaf is much cuter.

  “Ahhh, I’m drunk. You’ve been drinking, too, huh?”

  “Are you all right? You won’t get a hangover, will you?”

  “What? As long as I have fun drinking, I’ll be fine. I’m content right now.” As he said that, he put his arm around me. Then he shook me a bit and said, “Cheer up!”

  “Oh, I’m cheerful,” I replied.

  I noticed his hand had slipped into the vicinity of my chest. Apparently, he was fondling my breasts as he was shaking me around. Mr. Todou was a purehearted person, so there was no way he’d act so shamelessly in public. You know what? When he put his arm around me to cheer me up, the alcohol probably got to him and made his intentions go haywire. But it tickled so much, I couldn’t help it.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Todou. Your hand.”

  “Hmm? What about my hand?”

  “It’s on my chest.”

  “Oh, sorry. Beg your pardon.”

  As he said that, he removed his hand, but after a little while, it was back, touching my breasts again. It tickled so much, I had no choice but to push Mr. Todou away. We were grappling—well, technically, I was being groped—but we were grappling when a woman’s voice suddenly called from behind us, “’Ey, Todou!”

  I turned to look and saw a tall woman with regal eyebrows.

  “Up to your old tricks again, I see, you pervy old fart.”

  “Agh, when did you get here?” He abruptly lost his dignity and appeared pitiful.

  She puffed out her chest and pressed him. “If you want to grope some breasts so bad, touch mine. Here, go on.”

  “No, I’m not interested in those shameless things.”

  “You bastard, get outta here.”

  Mr. Todou stood up in a panic and tried to grab his bundle, but instead, it came undone, and its contents emptied across the floor. It was a lot of old pictures. There were some men and women tangled together like puzzle rings and some kind of monster coiled around their private parts. I stared fixedly as I helped pick them up, and when I wondered, “What are these?” Mr. Todou snatched them out of my hand in a hurry.

  “They’re shunga,” he barked brusquely as he picked up the erotic ukiyo-e prints. “I came to sell these off today.”

  He seemed so sad, I tried to stop him in spite of myself, but in haste, with an air of finality, he packed away the pictures and was gone like the wind.

  I glanced at the charm he’d given me. It was neither a cannon nor a koi, but unmistakably the monster from the pictures—that is, though I hesitate to say it, a specimen of so-called manhood.

  I sighed.

  The woman who chased off Mr. Todou sat next to me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked kindly, and I gazed intently at her face: It was truly majestic with those strong eyebrows.

  Ignoring my fascination, she called out in a spirited voice to order a beer. Then she turned around and said, “Higuchi, you too, c’mon.” A man stood leisurely, wearing a faded, casual kimono, a yukata.

  “Hi there, good evening to you.” The man who came to the bar smiled adorably. “You musn’t let your guard down around shady characters you meet out at night. It goes without saying that you should
n’t show us any weakness, either.”

  And that’s how I met Ms. Hanuki and Mr. Higuchi.

  Ms. Hanuki drank beer like water.

  There’s that phrase drink like a fish, but this beautiful lady almost seemed as if she had a fish inside her. I watched her chug her beer as if I were appreciating a refined performing art. Her associate Mr. Higuchi didn’t appear to care for alcohol much and swirled his single drink around in a serious manner, seeming to enjoy watching Ms. Hanuki toss back hers.

  She was a dental hygienist, but I don’t know what Mr. Higuchi’s occupation was.

  He said something strange. “My job? I’m a tengu.” He was referring to a cocky, mischievous Japanese goblin with supernatural powers and an abnormally long nose.

  “Well, pretty much.” And Ms. Hanuki didn’t deny it. “Man, though, I’m so glad we were here. Todou’s such a scumbag.”

  She was even angrier than I was.

  I actually couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He had imparted all that wisdom to me, shared his view on life, and above all bought me drinks. He was groping around in the darkness of this night, trying to come to terms with the crisis of his destroyed koi fish center. In light of his situation, what was a breast or two (well, I only have two, but…)? Why couldn’t I be the kind of person who could just shrug that off?

  “I’m sure Mr. Todou was suffering. I was cold to him.”

  “That’s fine. Be even colder!”

  “But he was so kind to me.”

  “Didn’t you just meet him?”

  “But he shared his wonderful view on life with me. I don’t think he’s a bad person.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down. For now, have a drink. It’s on me.”

  Ms. Hanuki ordered me a beer.

  “View on life? I mean, any dude with more than a few years under his belt can ramble about that sort of thing, you know?” she said. “Higuchi, even you can probably come up with some meaning-of-life mumbo jumbo, right?”

  “Hmm, I dunno. I don’t really try,” Mr. Higuchi said evasively with a noncommittal reply.

  When I told them about the destruction of the koi fish center, Ms. Hanuki frowned.

  “Well, that is sad.”

  “He might throw himself into the Kamo River,” said Mr. Higuchi.

  “Shush! You think he’s really that sensitive?”

  “But losing your business is no normal disappointment. He may have looked his cheerful self on the outside, but perhaps this was meant to be his last hurrah.”

  “Higuchi, do you have to say shit like that?” She drained her beer. “Ah, I feel sick. I want to go somewhere else, but, Higuchi, are you meeting someone?”

  “I haven’t been meeting anyone in years.”

  “Shall we go hole up somewhere?”

  “As you wish. Let’s change spots.”

  “We’re going to hop to a new bar. Want to come with?” She leaned in, looking right at me. “You’re probably safer with us.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll join you.”

  “You shouldn’t trust us. Who knows who we are!” Mr. Higuchi warned me with a serious look on his face.

  “Don’t lump me in with you.”

  Then Ms. Hanuki valiantly swept her hair back and stood up.

  When we left through a small iron door and came out on the emergency stairway around the back of the building, we could see a busy, unfamiliar view of the scene below.

  The lone row of short commercial buildings extending north and south created a series of uneven shadows, with neon lights and streetlights shining here and there in the darkness. A Japanese barbeque restaurant’s big lit-up sign blinked on its building’s roof. Power lines lay like a blanket over the houses. I assumed we were in an entertainment district, but there was an old house with its laundry pole hanging outside; it seemed just like a remote island or a secret fort. The long stretch of indistinct glowing in front of me must have been Ponto-cho. And the small streets below were like a maze, jammed between Ponto-cho and Kiyamachi.

  We climbed down the emergency stairway and came out into a narrow parking lot piled high with bicycle parts.

  “Oh? What’s this?” Mr. Higuchi crouched down next to the bicycles and picked up something floppy that looked like a giant sheet of seaweed. He waved it in the darkness.

  “It’s a pair of pants, isn’t it?”

  “Why would something like this be here?”

  “Someone must have taken them off. I’m sure there was a reason. Put them down.”

  Ms. Hanuki stacked bicycles, loudly scraping them against each other, and then casually clambered atop the pile. Mr. Higuchi moved past me to leisurely join her. As he scrambled up the mountain, the skirt of his yukata flipped wide open, and I was nearly exposed to an indecent scene, but I was saved by the fact that at some point, he’d put on those pants belonging to who knows who.

  “Wherever are you going?”

  “Shhh.” Ms. Hanuki put a finger to her mouth. “Over this wall.”

  On the other side was a quiet place, maybe the garden of a restaurant. Little round lanterns illuminated the foliage. I was delighted to see such a peaceful scene exist quietly alongside the concrete buildings in this neighborhood.

  “Are you planning to steal drinks or something?”

  “What would people say if they heard that? Don’t lump me in with Higuchi.”

  “All I did was pick up a little something someone dropped,” Mr. Higuchi countered, unfazed. “It’d be annoying to carry them to the nearest police box, so I’m wearing them.”

  “Ew, you’re wearing those pants, Higuchi? Cut it out, agh.”

  Wise readers, how long it has been since last we met? I hope you are well.

  The reason I’m interrupting now is that I imagine you’ve all forgotten about me, standing despondently on Kiyamachi, by this point. Please shower me in more of your overflowing love.

  When she encountered the misfortune of that detestable Todou fellow grappling and groping her, I should’ve boldly risen to the occasion and saved her—that goes without saying. But, you see, I was in no position to do so, as I was shaking in rage and from the cold in the dark of an alley that led from Kiyamachi to Ponto-cho. The reason for that? I was naked from the waist down. To those readers who have nothing to say but to curse me with You pervert, I sympathize, but you’re being too hasty if you’re blaming me.

  After watching her go with Todou down the Takase River and into the building on Kiyamachi, I thought I’d wait a little while and then head into the bar to see what was going on. I didn’t know the relationship between the two of them, but if some man she didn’t know was chatting her up and she needed saving, I had to be the one to rescue her. It was an admirable plan, if I do say so myself.

  But all of a sudden, I was attacked by some thug, dragged into an alley, and—of all things—robbed of my pants and underwear. The streets at night are filled with manifold dangers. It was too dark, and the whole thing was so unexpected, I couldn’t get a good look at the filthy criminal’s face. All I remember is he smelled awfully sweet, almost like a strange flower. It’s totally bizarre that a tough guy like me would be stripped by some gangster smelling like a bouquet. Clearly, no one would believe me.

  My resistance futile, I was forced to expose myself to the whole world. Well, not exactly. To reveal as little as possible, I hid in the alley and held up a beer crate I found. Oh, to think I’d end up entrusting my fate to a crate in a back alley when all I wanted was to rule the night and enjoy a romantic evening with this girl. I couldn’t be further from playing the lead role. If a police officer found me like this, I’d be branded as a shameless delinquent, and all my lofty ambitions would go up in smoke.

  I was done for. It seemed as though my fate was to end up as a pebble by the wayside, watching from afar as she enjoyed making her way through the night.

  Young men and women mingled in the spacious tatami room—it was truly the climax of the party.

  They were members of an organizatio
n in the humanities department, the Sophistry Debate Club. The party was a send-off for a former member before he went to study abroad in the UK. Fittingly for his glorious new beginning, they were passing around champagne.

  “They say champagne goes down easy, so people tend to drink too much, but you’ll be fine, huh?” Mr. Higuchi observed.

  “Then let’s drink to the shining future of this guy going to the UK, whoever he is!”

  And so we savored our free drinks, but Ms. Hanuki fit in as if she were everyone’s old friend and went buck wild. Grabbing the nearest person, she licked their face, regardless of whether it was a guy or a girl, as they desperately tried to flee from her grasp. She had a tendency to do that when she was drunk.

  “This isn’t half-bad. Come closer, my dear.”

  “Wah, stop it! Eegh!”

  “Meanwhile, this lady’s having a fine time watching.”

  “Ahhh, not the ears, not the ears!”

  Watching Ms. Hanuki work her strange mayhem, I had to admit I was impressed. This fish-woman wanders through the streets of Kiyamachi and, upon finding her pockets rather lonely, stands up with steadfast resolve, crashes the party of some person she’s never met in her life, easily fills her belly with free alcohol, and goes around willfully licking everyone’s faces—what could I call it but an unparalleled delight?

  She’d ambushed a disgracefully drunk student on his way back from the bathroom, hung all over him, and pretty much coerced him to go along with her. And just like that, hooting and hollering, she entered the party. Times like these, you can’t be shy. Crashing the celebrations of a stranger is a do-or-die challenge; a moment’s hesitation can be fatal. You have to infiltrate the very heart of the event, practically force everyone to get excited, and destroy their completely justified doubts of Who is this person?

  We walked quietly down the path our hero opened for us.

  “Wandering the streets at night reminds me…” Mr. Higuchi’s cheeks were rosy from the champagne, and he couldn’t hold back his laughter. “There’s this weird old guy named Rihaku. Lately, we don’t come across each other much, but there was a time when I went around eating and drinking with him. That’s just his nickname, by the way. In any case, he’s an eccentric character. During the day, he’s amazingly parsimonious, but at night, he splashes out. Thanks to that, I managed to eat for a while.” He spoke merrily. “Old Man Rihaku has two hobbies. One is to have entertainers—like me—assault men walking the streets at night to steal their underwear. The other is to hold drinking contests with faux electric brandy.”