The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl

by Tomihiko Morimi

  I snatched the book out of his hands and lapped it up with my eyes. The moment Higuchi told me she’d been wandering the bookfair looking for this, I knew I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance in front of me. With hope for a dramatic comeback, my romance engine revved up once more.

  The crude scheme of reaching out for the same book now seemed laughable. That was about as roundabout as the butterfly effect—I’ll give it to any junior high kid with a crush for free. I concluded that true men had to face these things head-on.

  Right before my eyes was the very picture book that she innocently wrote her name in during her childhood. I imagined her face as a child. This picture book would have her fainting with nostalgia and was a unique and precious treasure, not to mention the one book that would unlock my future. Acquiring this book would be as good as grasping her girlish heart in my hand, which would be as good as grasping a rose-colored campus life, which would be as good as a guarantee of a glorious future everyone would envy.

  Any objections, ladies and gentlemen? If you do happen to have some, I refute them.

  I roared in pursuit of victory.

  The shower had ended, and golden rays of the sun set the wet riding ground ablaze.

  It didn’t seem like it was going to rain anymore. I figured that as long as I was here, I might as well stick around till the end, and I floated off once more in pursuit of more encounters with books.

  Mr. Higuchi had gone off to the secret sale in high spirits. I was sure he could overcome any difficulty unfazed. After all, his feet are never quite on the ground, he can call himself a tengu goblin. I couldn’t imagine any trial that would frustrate him.

  After I’d walked for a while, the pretty boy who’d helped me search through the picture books came up beside me.

  “Oh, hello again.” I bobbed my head.

  “Did you find Ra Ta Ta Tam?”

  “No, not yet. I tried asking a bookseller to help, but…”

  He stared me right in the nose and smiled. “Are you going to be here till the fair closes today?”

  “Yes, I’m planning to stick around.”

  “Then you’ll be fine. You’ll find it,” he said and then whistled.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m the God of Used Bookfairs,” he revealed, raising a beautiful pale arm and sticking up his pointer finger. He really did look like a god who had descended out of the freshly washed summer sky onto the muddy riding ground. I looked at him for a few moments and then prayed, “Namu-namu!”

  The boy grinned and ran off.

  “Namu-namu!” Higuchi whispered. “Namu-namu!”

  Apparently, it was a cheer to help him endure the pain. I copied him and groaned, “Namu-namu!”

  Everyone was dripping sweat as if they’d been hit with a bucket of water in the face, so all five of us glistened in the light of the candles and the hanging kotatsu—we must have looked like mucous newborn monsters. Beneath the padded coat, my clothes were sopping wet, so any move I made felt disgusting. Every time my turn came around and I had to pick at the hot pot, the heat filling my body grew even hotter, and my tongue burned. If I’d opened my mouth, fire would have come out.

  “All right, keep drinking that barley tea. If you don’t, you’ll die,” Rihaku sang as he sipped cold sake out of a glass.

  We had no choice but to grimace with rage and drink the hot tea. As we poured the liquid into our stomachs, it turned instantly into sweat and left our bodies, but death was certain if we stopped sweating.

  The first one to cry uncle was the owner of Chitoseya.

  He shrieked, “I just can’t,” and crawled over to Rihaku’s feet. Then he splashed ice water on his face for some relief. The Bedroom Investigation Commission’s obscene dreams were thwarted all too soon.

  “Wimp,” said the student from the Keifuku Electric Railroad Research Society.

  The owner of Chitoseya was catching his breath with a wet towel over his face, and he waved another towel at me with a look that said, It’s up to you now. But I was already pushing ahead toward my own goal; I had no interest in the smutty Hokusai book.

  “One down.” The elderly scholar wrung the words out of his throat. It was a melancholy voice, what one might use to count corpses. The area around his mouth was so red from the chili peppers that it looked as if he had lipstick on, which was just dreadful, but the same went for all of us.

  The venue was already dimly lit, but the heat made me lightheaded and the hot pot was so spicy that my field of vision was shrinking. I couldn’t really see very well at this point.

  The Keifuku Electric Railroad Research Society student suddenly started snapping his chopsticks in the air in front of him as if he was trying to catch something. “What the heck?! There’s a rainbow streamer flying around here! It’s in the way!”

  “It’s been doing that for some time, you know,” Higuchi shot back.

  “I can see it, too,” confirmed the elderly scholar.

  “That’s a hallucination, everyone. Be careful.” That’s what I said, but then I saw a rainbow streamer whirling above the hot pot. It twisted and rippled, fluttering around making fools of the four of us. No matter how many times we reached for it with our chopsticks, we couldn’t catch it. We decided this object wasn’t an issue worth worrying about at the moment.

  “Hey, old man, you’re not drinking any tea!” Keifuku Electric Railroad said. “You’re gonna die!”

  We figured now was our chance but kept an eye out for him by forcing him to drink the hot barley tea.

  After he finished gulping it down, his lips twisted up, and he grumbled something or other. Just as I was thinking he was reciting a Chinese poem to forget the pain, he let out a wail. His tears overflowed and mingled with his sweat, dribbling continuously from his chin.

  “Dammit, why should I have to go through this?” He gritted his teeth and growled. “Hurry up and surrender, you guys. It’s a request from an old man who won’t live much longer.”

  “You can’t take books to the netherworld,” Higuchi reminded him.

  “No. I intend to take them with me as a souvenir.”

  “Hold on now—it’ll be trouble for me if you cross the great divide right here,” said Rihaku.

  “You guys are after fluff. I’m aiming for a national treasure!”

  “Mine is national-treasure level, too, old man!”

  “That dingy timetable, a national treasure? Don’t be stupid! Go get one from the train company!”

  That set off a fire-breathing exchange of insults that taxed our burned tongues. Yes, I participated, too. I was so confused from the heat and the spiciness, I hardly had any idea what I was saying.

  In the end, the elderly scholar sobbed, “What’s your deal? What are you here for?”

  When he found out I was going for a picture book, he seemed as if he was going to faint. “You nincompoop!” he shrieked. “I’ll buy you as many picture books as you want!”

  “A national treasure won’t open my path!” I shouted.

  The elderly man yowled, “It’s a manuscript! Do you not understand? It’s a handwritten manuscript of the Kokin Wakashu!”

  “Coconut-walk-a-shoe? Like I know what that is!”

  I read a bit of the Iwanami Bunko Kokin Wakashu among other things as I walked through the fair until I came upon a creepy-looking bookstore. The tent was surrounded by huge bookshelves, so it was very dark inside. To my surprise, the one keeping watch over the shop was the woman who’d been so absorbed in the collected works of Sakunosuke Oda. She was sitting at the table on the other side of the register.

  The bookstore was constructed in a strange way, with a narrow passage of books leading off from the checkout area. A hot wind seemed to be blowing a fishy odor from deep inside it. I wonder where this passage leads. This curiosity spurred me toward my unceasing exploration of the world, which expanded and grew with each subsequent experience.

  I’ll go right in! That’s what I’ll do!

&nb
sp; But at that moment, the woman said, “I would think twice about that if I were you.” I felt as if I had been scolded and looked at her timidly. She wore a broad, elegant smile. “It’s not the sort of place you should enter.”

  There were no other customers in the store, so perhaps she was bored. She offered me a little chair and took a couple bottles of Ramune soda out of the foam box at her feet. There’s nothing better than a Ramune soda at a used bookfair in midsummer, so I gratefully accepted the bottle.

  “I saw you earlier on the bench. You’ve been reading that all day, huh?” I pointed at the book in her hand.

  “Yes, this is the only book at my house,” she admitted. “Of all my husband’s books, this is the only one I kept.”

  I talked to her about things like Gerald Durrell and Ra Ta Ta Tam. As I spoke of the book I couldn’t seem to unearth in this vast used-book world, I began to feel dejected again. By coincidence, she happened to have heard of Ra Ta Ta Tam.

  “My son fell in love with that book at first sight when my husband took him to a used bookfair for the first time. I’ve read it to him so many times. He begged me to read it to him even after he could read it for himself.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “Unfortunately not…,” she murmured and looked at her Ramune bottle next to the register. It seemed there was some sorrowful circumstance that an outsider like me would never be able to guess. I refrained from asking any more.

  The Keifuku Electric Railroad Research Society student hung his head, at a loss before the fire hot pot.

  He moaned as globs of sweat fell audibly into his lap. We figured this was our chance and chanted “Drop out! Drop out!” in unison. If the others didn’t give up soon, I wouldn’t be able to hold out. I was enduring the pain through sheer willpower, and Higuchi through some hidden talent, but the elderly scholar had used up so much energy on futile anger that he was out of breath.

  Keifuku Electric Railroad’s angular face was bright red. He raised and lowered his chopsticks several times, but his hand shook, and he couldn’t bring himself to plunge them into the pot. Mind and body were fighting a fierce battle.

  “I can’t… I’ve felt awful for a while now…” An agonized expression appeared on his face. “I have a weak stomach…”

  “If you eat this hot pot, your stomach is going to end up like my briefs!” threatened Higuchi, who excelled at psychological manipulation. He followed up with “Do you want to die?”

  “No, I don’t want to diiiie,” Keifuku Electric Railroad practically whined. “But I want iiiit!”

  “It’s not worth wagering your stomach. You’re still young. You’ll have plenty of other chances.”

  The poor guy groaned and finally dropped out. With a face as brick red as the Kintetsu trains, he chased the rainbow streamer racing before us and departed for a mirage—all aboard! Farewell, rival, I thought.

  At first, Higuchi wore an unwavering enigmatic smile, but it now occasionally reminded me of the puckered-up expression of Japanese Noh masks as he exhaled hot air. How long could he keep his feet off the ground in the face of this physical torture?

  The two losers were collapsed beneath the red demon masks with wet towels over their faces. They looked like a pair of corpses.

  “All right, gentlemen. If two more of you drop out, one of you can make one of my books yours. Hang in there a little longer,” encouraged Rihaku, chomping on a big slice of watermelon. “Or how about this? I have some ice-cold watermelon here. If you want to have some, just surrender.” He waved a slice of the bright-red watermelon in front of us as we panted in the heat. I could practically feel the moist chill and brilliant sweetness of it in my cheeks. “You can have as much as you want. It’s juicy and sweet! Wouldn’t you like to give up on your book and have cold, refreshing watermelon instead?”

  The three of us around the hot pot roared in our attempts to fend off the devilish temptation.

  As Rihaku bit into another slice, I could see sharp fangs. Horns sprouted from his forehead. His face in the flickering candlelight looked exactly like the king of demons.

  “They’re just bundles of paper,” he cackled. “Which is more precious to you: that stuff or cold, refreshing watermelon?”

  When I heard myself scream that I chose my glorious future over the watermelon before me, it sounded like someone else’s voice.

  Thoughts about my shining future whirled before my eyes like the shadows from a revolving lantern: handing her the picture book; the two of us, hearts growing closer; meeting alone for the first time; holding hands on the grounds of a shrine. By the time colors of fall were dyeing Kyoto, our relationship would be established, and our feelings would deepen along with the winter. Finally, Christmas Eve would arrive. No one could stop my romance engine any longer. And I no longer lent an ear to my inner voice of reason.

  “Heh-heh-heh-heh.” The elderly scholar smirked, drooling. His voice brought me back to reality with a start, and I saw Higuchi mumbling something about a trip around the world with a dreamy look in his eyes. Apparently, all three of us had been watching the revolving lantern show; we undoubtedly had one foot in the river of the afterlife.

  We shouted encouragements to one another and gulped down barley tea.

  “Old man, we’re already gambling with death at this point,” said Higuchi. “You must be able to see it already…the netherworld…”

  “Didn’t I tell you…? I want a souvenir to take with me…”

  “Your heart probably can’t take this stress. Are you really okay with ending your life over some hot pot?”

  The elderly man gritted his teeth and held out against Higuchi’s psychological attack. “No one will…care if I…die… So what’s it to me?”

  “I admire that spirit,” Rihaku observed. “Then go to the afterworld. I’ll settle everything if you do.”

  “You can’t die, old man!” Higuchi croaked. “Not here!”

  But the elderly man didn’t reply. He slowly fell forward, and I hurried to catch him.

  He was gone.

  “Only two left now.” Rihaku smiled in satisfaction. “But wow, it sure is hot in here. Reminds me of Hell.”

  I talked with the woman for a while over some soda—it tasted like water from heaven.

  All of a sudden, we heard a groan from a gap in the books piled up behind the checkout area. “Direct communication between minds mrrfle-mrrf.” Someone was talking in their sleep.

  The woman turned around. Behind her, a man in black glasses was curled up sleeping among stacks of books. I wondered why he’d nap in such a cramped space with no futon. Did being surrounded by used books put him at ease?

  “Please let my husband rest a little longer. Our son will be here soon,” she said kindly.

  The man, sound asleep, grunted like a happy pig and rolled to face away from us. She smiled at me and said, “He must be having a good nap.”

  I finished my soda, thanked her, and stood up.

  She saw me off to the front of the shop.

  “I’m sure you’ll find Ra Ta Ta Tam very soon,” she reassured, gazing out at the falling dusk. “Let’s have faith in the God of Used Bookfairs.”

  “Thank you.”

  I bowed and set off walking. “Namu-namu!” I whispered.

  The battle had reached its final stage: single combat between Higuchi and me.

  We had to take turns picking at the hot pot, so we were always eating. The ingredients simmered to the point that they were falling apart, and all our chopsticks caught was debris that had transformed into spiciness incarnate. My mouth was numb, and so was my soul. Barley tea went in and came out as aqueous sweat, streaming down like a waterfall. The sopping-wet padded coats weighed on our shoulders. We had turned into perpetual endurance machines. Our only goal was to defeat the hot pot before us.

  “Are you going to give that picture book to the girl? Do you have a crush on her?”

  “That’s right. What about it?”

  “How about
this? First, you give up. I’ll get the picture book. Then you buy it from me for five hundred thousand yen.”

  “There’s something wrong with that… Wait a minute, wait a minute. You’re the only one who benefits there.”

  “What?! Isn’t it a steal to buy a glorious future for five hundred thousand yen?”

  “I’m not taking any favors from you. I’m fired up about something for once…both physically and mentally. I’m going to win this fight and seize my future with my own two hands!”

  “My good sir, even a man as formidable as I has limits,” said Higuchi, laughing. “Look at this hallucination I’ve started to see.”

  He reached into the hot pot with his chopsticks and pulled out a huge toad.

  The toad was puffy and bright red with chili peppers and all manner of secret ingredients. Its legs twitched minutely. Eventually, it escaped from Higuchi’s chopsticks and scrambled around atop the kotatsu. It squatted in front of me and opened its mouth wide. Flames came spouting out of its gaping jaws.

  “Kill him!” laughed Higuchi. “Burn him up!”

  I scowled at the toad for a time and then reached into the hot pot myself.

  My chopsticks caught something that felt like a heavy rope, so I pulled it out.

  Out of the iron pot rose a python covered in chili peppers. With its tail still in the pot, there was no way of knowing how long it was. The snake lowered its head onto the heated table. Higuchi’s toad sputtered red as it tried to hop wetly away, but the snake swallowed it whole.

  Then it sluggishly rested its chin on the lip of the pot.

  When I looked up at Higuchi, he had a smile plastered on. I could see each drop of sweat rolling down his face. He didn’t move a muscle, even when the sweat got in his eyes and mouth. When I gave him a poke, he maintained the exact same expression and fell over backward. It was a dignified end, bearing a striking resemblance to the standing death of Musashibo Benkei.

  My head was swimming. I felt as if flames were going to burst out of both my mouth and my ass. The rainbow streamer flew around my head, and I couldn’t see anything. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I thought, and I drank barley tea. I hurled the hot-water bottle away and took off the sopping-wet coat. It made a wet splat when it landed on the carpet.