The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl

by Tomihiko Morimi

  I left with him and sneered, “You evil bastard.”

  He smiled and replied, “It’s just one thing after another. Just a little while ago there was a Crackpot of Monte Cristo performance on that landing. By the time I arrived, it was over.”

  “Why don’t you just give up on them?”

  “I can’t. This is my job… How about you? Have you seen the girl yet?”

  “I can’t find her, so no.”

  “I guess we’re both having a hard time—you in pursuit of your girl, me in pursuit of the Crackpot of Monte Cristo.”

  “She’s carrying a big red koi on her back. Have you seen a girl like that around?”

  “Oh, her? I passed her near the north gate a bit ago.” Then he got a puzzled look on his face. “I think she was chasing a Daruma doll that was rolling away?”

  After parting with the director, who was on his way back to headquarters, I went north from the academic center. The north gate faces Higashi Ichijo Street, and there were tons of booths lined up there, too, and throngs of people.

  The sun was clouded over, so it’d gotten even colder. I sniffed the scent of a solitary winter.

  I’m sure I’ll catch a cold again this year after my naked soul is pummeled by the northern wind blowing down the drably colored streets. It happens every year. It’s a given. Then one day I’ll drag my feverish body to the convenience store, when some shamelessly buoyant revelers will streak by holding up cake and chicken as if they were portable shrines hoisted high. With my vision hazy from the high fever, the twinkling lights in the streets will look beautiful. Why are the streets so sparkly? I’ll wonder, and as I’m heading up the hill to my room, it will hit me: Ahhh, yes. Today is Christmas Eve…

  I was looking through some secondhand clothes with a mind to prepare for the seasonal struggle when I smelled something delicious from beyond them. When I went through the curtain of clothes, a familiar man in a yukata was sitting under a kotatsu eating hot pot.

  “Ah! Higuchi. What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, it’s you. Haven’t seen you since the used bookfair, right? Well, have some soy-milk hot pot.”

  I counted myself lucky and got under the kotatsu. With him were Hanuki—a lady and a big drinker—and a student I didn’t know. Hanuki was on her stomach sipping a cup of sake. When I sat down, she tried to lick my face, and I dodged. She cackled like a strange bird. The sun hadn’t even gone down, and she was almost completely plastered.

  “Welcome to the Speedy Kotatsu,” announced Higuchi.

  How ridiculous. “If there’s something shady going on, you’re usually the one behind it, huh?”

  “Hey now, don’t flatter me.”

  Then I ate some soy-milk hot pot and warmed up, but I was curious about the student who hadn’t said a word since I arrived. He was writing something with a frown. When Higuchi noticed me glancing at him, he slurped some Malony noodles and said, “That’s Chief-in-Chief Underpants.”

  I’d heard rumors of that school-shaking moniker. I looked upon the taciturn man with awe and kindness. “How did he become Chief-in-Chief Underpants?”

  “It’s a tearjerker of a story,” stated Higuchi, and he urged the man to tell it.

  Chief-in-Chief Underpants put down his pen and took a little Daruma doll out from under the kotatsu. Then he split it in half, folded the paper he’d been writing on real tiny, placed it inside, and then put the doll back together. He did all this without a word and then set the complete Daruma on the table. Finally, he turned toward me and began to speak in a solemn tone.

  “It happened last year at the school festival. I thought the festival was a stupid ruckus and had no intention of going, but a friend of mine in the same major was going to be in a play, so I reluctantly agreed to go. I had some time to kill before the performance was going to start, so I took a break in the law department courtyard. There was a dingy stage made of a collection of junk, so I was sitting absentmindedly on the corner of it. After a little while, a tired-looking girl came along and sat there like me. At first, I just thought, ‘Oh, a girl’s sitting there,’ but then it rained apples.”

  “It rained apples?”

  “Later, I heard that apparently a law professor was taking some apples he bought at a booth back to his office when he tripped and the apples flew everywhere—including out the window into the courtyard. Anyhow, all these round red things were falling, and when I stood up, wondering what the heck was going on, I looked at the lady. She looked at me, too. That instant we were looking at each other, apples hit both of us on the head and bounced off. That was the moment I fell for her, right when the apple bounced.” He had a far-off look in his eyes. “It was truly love at first sight.”

  I’ve seen a lot of lovesick men, but the utterly intoxicated look on this one’s face was something else. I didn’t even have the heart to rib him; he was in full-body love.

  “We both rubbed our heads and groaned for a little while, but soon we were laughing in spite of ourselves. After all, it’s not every day that two people see apples fall out of the sky and bounce off each other’s heads. That was how we started talking. I was flustered, so I don’t even know what I said. I remember her talking with a voice as clear as a bell about the Jindaiji Daruma Doll Fair. She said she loved Daruma dolls, that she loved small round things…”

  Then his face became sad.

  “But I didn’t know what to do. Our entire relationship was having apples bounce off our heads. It would have been rude to ask for her number. So all I could do was make trivial small talk, and eventually, her friend called her away, and she left. But ever since we parted, I haven’t been able to forget her. I thought I’d like to see her again, hear her voice, but I can’t seem to run into her on campus. I got more and more distraught until I finally made a vow and headed to Yoshida Shrine to pray: I vowed not to change my underwear until the day I met her again.”

  Higuchi crossed his arms and nodded with what seemed like admiration. “That’s how he earned the title Chief-in-Chief Underpants. It’s a wonderful story. He’s a man among men.”

  “He’s putting all his energy in the entirely wrong direction,” Hanuki whispered as she sipped her sake.

  His intentions were lovely—beautiful, but I got the strong impression he was running at full speed in the exact opposite direction of his goal. In praise of his full-throttle backward dash, I reached out to shake his hand. I couldn’t help but identify with his compulsive way of living.

  “I pray you’ll meet her again.”

  “I believe I’ll meet her today. That’s why I’m making my move.”

  I stood up. “Oh, that’s right. I can’t be sitting here cozily eating soy-milk hot pot. I’ve got to seize my happy ending—even if it requires some plot convenience!”

  Higuchi dove under the kotatsu and said, “You’re leaving already?” Hanuki yawned.

  Thus, I walked off once again—Where could she be?

  At that time, I’d gone back to the field to find a booth I saw earlier with the very intriguing sign MAN JUICE: BLACKGUARD. That blackguard turned out to be red-bean soup.

  Looking a bit ridiculous with red-bean soup in one hand, a Daruma in the other, and a koi fish on my back, I walked around the field. My tongue is sensitive to heat, so I couldn’t drink the soup right away. But the sun was clouded over, and a cold wind was blowing, so it soon cooled to a gentle temperature. My back was toasty, protected by the carp.

  In addition to food stands, there were people doing street performances as well as stress-relief booths. Everyone was harnessing their respective talents and coming together to make this weird festival a party. It was wonderful. After I finished my soup, I paid for a session at a stress-relief booth and tried serving some friendly punches to a sandbag.

  Once my body was all warmed up, I left the field and walked to the north gate. There were lots of shops there, too, selling sausages, grilled rice balls, and crepes, plus little gadgets, handmade accessories, and used clothes—it was
brimming with black-market energy. As I sat fixated on a big Kamen Rider V3 figure, someone sat down next to me. They looked right at me and said, “Hello.” It was the girl who’d taught me the harshness of reality with her ground-breaking exhibit, Elephant Butt.

  “Funny seeing you here.”

  “It’s easy to spot you with that koi on your back.”

  “Is the elephant’s bottom all right without you?”

  “Yeah, I have a friend working the booth for me. Plus, we’re breaking it down soon.”

  “What? You’re taking it apart? What a waste.”

  “I mean, if an elephant butt was always in that classroom, you wouldn’t be able to hold lectures.”

  She was wearing a string of Daruma dolls. When I pointed at it and told her how splendid I thought it was, she nodded happily.

  “I picked up so many Daruma that I decided to try threading them.”

  “How novel. I love Daruma dolls.”

  “Me too. I love small round things.”

  When I showed her the Daruma I had picked up, she said she’d give me her Daruma string. I gratefully accepted it and wore it around my neck.

  “You’re so funny.” She laughed.

  Then we went around to different booths together for a while, and eventually, we found a shop where they had cardboard boxes full of apples. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I already had a koi fish on my back, a Daruma doll in my left hand, Daruma dolls around my neck, and a crepe that I’d bought in my right hand, so I wasn’t at liberty to buy any. As I was mulling this over, the student keeping the shop asked if I wanted to trade a Daruma for an apple. I had a lot of them, so her offer was perfectly timed. The doll in my left hand transformed into a shiny red apple. The Elephant Butt girl bought one, too.

  “What inspired you to create an elephant bottom?”

  She polished her apple on her shirt and looked at me with her pretty eyes. “It happened last year at the school festival. I went to the law department courtyard to meet a friend. Someone had made a stage there, but no one was using it, and a guy was sitting on it, so I decided to sit there, too. Then as I started spacing out, it started raining apples!”

  “That’s quite some mysterious weather.”

  “Someone scattered a bunch of apples out of one of the law department’s windows. Just as I stood up in surprise at all the red fruits falling down, I looked at the guy next to me. He looked at me, too. That instant, apples hit both of us on the head and bounced off. Those sorts of coincidences actually do happen. It really hurt, but…we both laughed in spite of ourselves and got to talking. He was a very interesting person. I don’t remember what I talked about, but…he told me about elephant bottoms.”

  She giggled and spun the apple in her hand.

  “My friend got there right after that, so we parted ways. The school festival ended, and life went on as normal. But every little thing reminded me of him. I was thinking about him and elephant bottoms all the time—because the only thing I distinctly remember he told me about is elephant bottoms. But I never saw him around campus. One day, I came up with the idea to build an elephant bottom for the next school festival, because you can forget painful memories while you’re making things…”

  “So it was a bottom built with love!”

  “I figured if there was a sign that said ‘Elephant Butt’ at the festival, he would find it interesting and pop in, you know? But it wasn’t that easy,” she murmured.

  What a beautiful, moving story. I’m a girl who’s lived apart from romance, so I couldn’t understand the pain in her heart, but I knew that if I were in love like that, I would have poured my soul into an elephant bottom just as she did. Yes, indeed. As I imagined her devoted to her creative work, thinking of him, I nearly began to cry.

  And that’s when it happened.

  The theater troupe came from the academic center and threaded through the booths in their red armbands. One of them, the girl with the reel on her hip, broke into a radiant smile when she saw me: “She’s here!” She waved a Daruma doll she must have found on the ground and cried, “You’re on, you’re on!” I wiped the corners of my eyes and stood up.

  “The three o’clock show is about to start! Presenting The Crackpot of Monte Cristo!” Her voice echoed throughout the area. “Act forty-eight!”

  THE CRACKPOT OF MONTE CRISTO

  ACT 48

  SETTING: THE NORTH GATE

  After the 25th Sophistry Debate Club Meet, the captain, YUICHI SERINA, is walking. As he walks, he sings the “Song of Sophistry” with an earnest expression on his face. Princess Daruma blocks his way.

  DARUMA

  Are you captain of the Sophistry Debate Club, Serina?

  SERINA

  I am, indeed, captain of the Sophistry Debate Club, Yuichi Serina. You know me, but who are you? Tell me your name!

  DARUMA

  I am Princess Daruma. Even if you don’t know me, you must know the Crackpot of Monte Cristo.

  SERINA

  Hmm, no, I know no one with such an eccentric name.

  DARUMA

  Don’t play innocent with me!

  She pounces and ties Serina up.

  SERINA

  What violence! I’ll see you in court.

  DARUMA

  Listen to me. I captured Aijima of the film club Ablutions and persuaded him with all my heart. He confessed that you, the Sophistry Debate Club, held a grudge against the Crackpot of Monte Cristo and abducted him. Will you still feign ignorance now?

  SERINA

  I don’t know what I don’t know.

  DARUMA

  Well then, how shall I deal with this? I happen to have a pair of shamelessly pink briefs here. Perhaps it’d be fun to make you wear them and then drop you in the center of the Hyakumanben Intersection.

  SERINA

  Pink? And briefs, you say? Oh, is there no god or Buddha?

  DARUMA

  Then you’d better give me the whole story. Where is my love, the Crackpot of Monte Cristo?

  SERINA

  I’ll tell you everything. The Crackpot of Monte Cristo is one hard-core sophistry debater. The uninhibited eellike slipperiness he exhibits is enough to drain the color from even the faces of we who train night and day. In the school festival debate we organized, the Rice Fundamentalists vs. the Bread Alliance, he beat us so soundly we couldn’t manage a single peep. For the Sophistry Debate Club to be defeated in sophistry debate is an unendurable humiliation, so it’s only natural we’d hold a grudge. Our intention was to abduct him and shut that sophism-spouting mouth of his. But some other people stole him away from us…

  He trails off.

  DARUMA

  Tell me those schemers’ names!

  SERINA

  I’ll tell you; I won’t leave anything out. It was the School Festival Office. The natural enemy of students living with Sturm und Drang, they are operating under the principle of eliminating any and all sources of commotion. In order to bring the school festival safely to a close, they’ve taken the festival terrorist, the Crackpot of Monte Cristo, and locked him up somewhere.

  DARUMA

  I see!

  SERINA

  Please have mercy. I’m a pitiable fellow who only ended up a villain by chance; it’s all a capricious trick played by Lady Luck. From now on, I’ll change my ways and swear loyalty to you. I’ll spare no effort in helping you rescue the Crackpot of Monte Cristo.

  DARUMA

  You are the very definition of a glib-tongued womanizer. I’m amazed you were able to play so infuriatingly dumb and then, in the same breath, say you’ll “spare no effort” to help. You delight in taking advantage of a coincidence, but then when things don’t seem to be going your way, you make excuses and blame Lady Luck. I’m sure these pink briefs will look great on a shallow fellow like you.

  SERINA

  Waaah. Please, I beg you, not that obscenity.

  DARUMA

  (Having forced Serina into the pink briefs, she stan
ds and raises a fist).

  The School Festival Office… I’ve burned that despicable name into my brain.

  Once the curtain was drawn, before the applause even died down, the theater troupe broke down the set and dashed off like ninjas into the crowd. The almost ascetic way they worked was admirable, especially because they didn’t get carried away by their success. Before she left, the prop girl clapped me on the shoulder. “See you in a bit!”

  As I was sighing with relief after my performance, the girl from Elephant Butt came over. A smile opened across her flushed face. “That was my first time seeing The Crackpot of Monte Cristo.” She beamed. “You were awesome! Your voice sounds totally different up there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’ll see you later. It’s too bad we have to split up, but I have to get back to pack.”

  Though reluctant, I parted ways with her there and went out the north gate. Then I crossed Higashi Ichijo Street to explore Main Campus.

  As I walked north through the main gate, the clock tower stood over the rows of crowded booths. When I headed toward the engineering department, I found a shop selling candied apples. Candied apples! That’s an orthodox festival booth food if I ever heard of one. I happily bought myself this treat. Round sweet things are good.

  As I walked along licking the candied apple, I sensed, faintly, some kind of tense commotion. Following that sound, I came across a cluster of people in a narrow alley between two engineering buildings. Everyone was staring up at the sky with bated breath. I looked up as well and got quite a surprise. A boy holding a long pole was slowly walking on a line strung from the window of one building to the other. When I asked a spectator, I learned that apparently this guy had walked between the two second floors, then the third floors, then the fourth floors, moving up step-by-step like that, and had finally reached the fifth floors. What a fearless, adventuring rogue.

  When the fellow made it across, everyone watching sighed with relief. I wanted to praise him, but at the same time, I was driven by a sense of mission to tell him that he mustn’t risk his life for mischief, so I entered the building he had crossed into. Then I went up the stairs, but I couldn’t reach the fifth floor—the reason being, a huge papier-mâché lucky cat was sitting in the stairwell, and I couldn’t get past no matter how I tried. I sulked a bit, but the cat was quite an elaborate construction and even larger than I was. I forgot my original purpose and poked its big soft belly with wonder.