I stood at the entrance to Shimogamo Shrine on Mikage Street and looked at the path leading deep into Tadasu no Mori. I suppose you could call it an evil wind? Blowing from deep within the empty forest, the spooky air whipped up dust, hitting my face. The thickly growing trees swayed dramatically, and a horrible sound echoed throughout the forest. As if invited by the wind, I stepped onto the long, deserted path and headed north.
While I was walking, I remembered the first time I met Mr. Rihaku, that night in Ponto-cho. We had a blast drinking faux electric brandy. I recalled that feeling of happiness starting in the pit of my stomach. Rumor had it that Mr. Rihaku was a heinous loan shark, but to me, he was just as kind as my grandfather.
To the left of the path was the riding ground where the summer used bookfair was held.
Something gigantic was moving around over there making a horrible noise. I fled to the right and clung to a tree by the side of the path. There was so much dust and so many leaves swirling in the air that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and the big tree I was clinging to swayed hard in the violent wind. Across the grove, a tornado was cruising south, sucking the mud of the riding ground up through the treetops. The sound of trees being ripped up by their roots mixed in with the wind, as if Tadasu no Mori were screaming.
I was covered in mud after hanging on to the tree to weather the tornado. Wiping my forehead, I opened my eyes slightly to peer down the road to the shrine. Another gust of wind roared, and tattered shreds of flags from all around the world and a rainbow streamer flew by me. I was sure they were decorations from the triple-decker train, Mr. Rihaku’s home. When I realized that, I looked around and saw there were decorations scattered all over the path and caught in the trees.
When I continued down the path, I noticed an orangey light blinking on the northern edge of the riding ground.
A dark corner of the forest glowed like magic and then went dark again. Eventually, I came upon Mr. Rihaku’s triple-decker train parked behind the trees. The poor thing was a shadow of its former self, with its festive decorations all ripped apart and blown away. The bamboo grove on the roof was ruined, and all the windows were broken.
It seemed like an abandoned train, but it grew brighter and darker almost as if it were breathing. Just as you thought the light was dazzlingly scary, an awful wind would rush out, and it would fade to darkness again as if losing power. It seemed like the pained breathing of Mr. Rihaku in his sickbed.
“Ohhh, Mr. Rihaku! I’m on my way to visit you right now!”
I adjusted my backpack on my shoulders and headed straight into the wind.
I was flying leisurely above Ponto-cho.
Higuchi, the student-tengu, taught in a way that could have hardly been vaguer. He had barged into the house of a used bookstore owner he knew, gone out by the laundry pole, and then pointed at the sky. “It’s about living without letting your feet touch the ground. Then you can fly.”
I thought he was making fun of me until I envisioned a completely impractical future for myself: One day, I’ll dig into the mountain out back at my parents’ house, strike oil, rake in the dough, become a zillionaire, quit university, and live a happy life till I die. My body grew rapidly lighter, and suddenly, I was floating up from the veranda. Higuchi stood there waving for a little while, but then he was gone.
I jumped nimbly from rooftop to rooftop among the crowded houses between Ponto-cho and Kiyamachi. If I was careful about the netlike electric lines, I could go anywhere. Kicking off the roof of a taller commercial building to jump higher, I twisted around and gazed down at the nighttime scenery. The lights of the city were sparkling like jewels: the office building lights around Shijo Karasuma, Kyoto Tower off in the distance like a single candle, the red lights of Gion, and the lights of the entertainment district stretching south of Sanjo and Kiyamachi like the netting…
I eventually landed on top of a commercial building and sat on the edge, letting my legs dangle. The moon was hanging large in the sky. Below me, Ponto-cho gleamed from north to south.
I was sitting there wondering, Where is she right now, and what is she doing? when I saw a mysterious vehicle radiating bright lights proceeding quietly down Ponto-cho. It was like a train with a bamboo grove and a pond on the roof. It was Rihaku’s triple-decker train.
I remembered that strange night.
After my long, fruitless journey, I was on the roof of that train by the side of the pond listening to her talk with Mr. Todou. He was trying to manipulate her with some tall tale about a tornado blowing all his koi fish away. I stood up from the grass to rescue her innocent soul from that contemptible man, but something came flying out of the heavens, struck me in the head, and tragically knocked me out. I feel pathetic every time I think about it.
Then I realized something: If I wait here on this rooftop, eventually she’ll show up to have a drinking contest with Rihaku. I cast myself nimbly off the roof into the night sky, aiming for the roof of the triple-decker train.
In midair, a thought occurred to me: What will I do if she actually shows up? I had already silenced the committee in my brain with my earlier speech. All I could do was shut my eyes and fly toward my glorious future. As the train below me grew closer, I could start to see in the windows filled with orangey light. The brilliantly gleaming chandelier swayed as the vehicle proceeded. I could see Rihaku from behind as he relaxed in a chair. But, I thought as I aimed my landing, what will I do if she twists her face into a grimace as if to say something like Ew, what are you talking about, you scumbag? Can my pride handle such humiliation? I’ll probably lose all hope and have nothing left but my naked flesh.
A wave of real-life worries swept over me. I couldn’t fly anymore.
Unable to withstand the weight of reality, I crashed into the pond on the roof. The pond. The sound of me splashing down. In a corner of my vision as I drowned, a brilliant red-and-white koi leaped, arching its body.
The study on the first floor had been ravaged by the wind, and there was none of its ornateness from last time. Torn ukiyo-e and traditionally bound books were scattered between the filing cabinets and overturned table. The tremendous wind coming down the spiral staircase blew them into a crumpled heap. I crawled up the stairs into the second-floor banquet room.
At the far end, Mr. Rihaku had laid out a futon to rest inside. A string of tin lanterns was set up around the sleeping area. Every time he curled up and groaned, they all grew brighter. That was the blinking I’d seen in the woods.
The lanterns illuminated the banquet hall, so I could see it was completely ruined. The grandfather clock had fallen over, and the phonograph was crushed beneath it. The celadon vase and raccoon statue had been shattered, and their shards were scattered in a jumble on the floor. All the windows had come out of their frames, and every last one of the masks, brocade woodblock prints, and other decorations on the wood-plank walls had blown away. A tragically torn oil painting had caught on the spiral staircase. And in the middle of all that wreckage was Mr. Rihaku sick in bed… I felt so sorry for him, I nearly burst into tears. I ran over and hugged him through the futon. “Mr. Rihaku! Mr. Rihaku!” I shouted.
He had his eyes clenched shut, but when he heard my voice, he opened them. His lips were trembling, and he was so pale I was frightened. His eyes gleamed.
“Oh, it’s you,” he finally groaned. “I’m about to die.”
“You’ll be all right. Please don’t worry.”
I fixed his disheveled gray hair and put a hand on his burning-hot forehead.
Just then, the lanterns shone especially bright. Mr. Rihaku writhed and let out an enormous cough. With my hand on his forehead, I was caught up in the gust and blown back, and I was forced to withdraw to the staircase. When the wind died down, the lights had gone out, and the area around Mr. Rihaku was dark. I clutched the railing of the staircase and held my breath, and at last, the lanterns began to shine again. “Mr. Rihaku, I brought you some medicine,” I continued.
“I don’t car
e anymore. Leave me alone,” he rasped in a pained voice. “You’ll catch my cold.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
I got blown away a few more times, but I went back and forth between the corner of the hall and Mr. Rihaku’s bed to take care of him. When I swirled a chopstick in the Junpairo and held it up, he smiled sentimentally and licked the medicine that gleamed like amber in the lantern light. “This is it! This is it!” he murmured happily. I took a gel sheet out of my backpack and stuck it on his hot forehead. In the gaps between his coughs, I grated the apple and fed it to him.
It was a long, tough time during which the only sounds I could hear were Mr. Rihaku’s coughing fits and the stirring forest.
As I was drowning in Rihaku’s pond, I poked my head out of the water, and I was suddenly somewhere else, a fishy-smelling reservoir. The evening sun was so bright I could hardly see. I had just been at Ponto-cho in the dark a moment ago, so I frowned. The scene was changing awfully fast even for a dream. What’s that loud roaring, and why is it so windy? The pool of water grew choppy, and the poor koi fish panicked.
I rested my chin on the edge of the reservoir and choked, then spit out the seaweed tangled around my tongue.
Just then, beyond a fence, I saw a middle-aged man getting his arm tugged by a younger guy. Eventually, he shook off the worker trying to stop him and ran toward me with a sorrowful expression on his face.
It was the koi fish center owner, Todou.
Bathed in the evening sun, what little hair he had getting whipped around in the wind, he opened his arms in an appeal to the heavens. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Give Yuuko back! Give Jirokichi back!” He called a lot of names.
I watched Todou succumb to insanity as I steeped in the reservoir.
Finally, he started to cry and run back where he’d come from when he suddenly noticed me there in the water. His jaw dropped so far, I thought it was going to fall off. Then as he fled, he waved his arms at me and looked up at the sky with wide eyes as he yelled, “Run! Run!”
When I turned around, there was a dark tornado towering before my eyes. The reservoir water and the koi with their glittering scales were getting sucked up into the sky.
“There’s no time!” I gracefully resigned myself, closed my eyes, and focused inward.
In due course, I followed after the fish, bravely lifting off into the sky.
Mr. Rihaku’s cough seemed to have subsided at some point.
After being battered by the wind, I was tired and nodded off.
I’m not sure how long I slept, but the next thing I knew, a soft blanket was over my shoulders. The fallen grandfather clock was ticking and pointing to five o’clock. When I looked up, Mr. Rihaku was taking an intact bottle of faux electric brandy off a smashed shelf. When he saw I was awake, he confessed, “I’m so glad you came. I probably wouldn’t have made it without you.” Then he burned a broken oil-painting frame in a chipped celadon dish and heated up some faux electric brandy in a pot for me. “Now drink this to warm up.”
Next to Mr. Rihaku snuggled up in his futon, I sat wrapped in the blanket, and we drank faux electric brandy with a squeeze of yuzu. The pit of my stomach got floaty and warm, and I regained my energy. Our surroundings started to look more colorful, bit by bit. Mr. Rihaku poked his head out of his futon and looked at me.
“I become so feeble when I get a cold. It’s really a bother.”
“Well, you had such a bad fever.”
“Sleeping alone on a melancholy winter night gets so lonely. I don’t have anyone… I’m all by myself. When a fever keeps me up at night and I open my eyes, I feel like a little child. I remember those days so long ago. If I opened my eyes alone in bed, I’d call for my mother. But now there’s no one…”
“I’m here,” I whispered, and I suddenly remembered my clubmate. Is he also sleeping alone in his futon? Is he spending this longest night of the year all alone?
“A night with a cold is a long night,” he lamented.
“Today is the winter solstice. It’s the longest night of the year.”
“But no matter how long the night, dawn is bound to come.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Mr. Rihaku looked at me and smiled contentedly. He seemed to be moving his mouth, so I brought my ear close.
“The night is short—walk on, girl,” he said.
Right when I smiled at him, the lanterns around the futon all twinkled brightly. Mr. Rihaku abruptly took a big breath and motioned for me to get out of the way. It was so sudden I could only back up a few steps.
When he coughed, I experienced the strongest gust I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
Later at the party to celebrate his recovery, I’d come to find out that was the moment he’d finally managed to expel the God of Colds. The God of Colds, who came out of his body as a blast of wind, laid waste to the banquet hall once more, flew out the window, and became a huge tornado, swirling the night air around and shaking Tadasu no Mori. The twinkling lights inside the dark black tornado were the lanterns from Mr. Rihaku’s futon. The lights whirled in the air, gleaming on their string like a train. I think they would have been a terribly mysterious sight if I could have looked up at them from the outside, but I couldn’t.
Because I was spinning around inside the tornado with them.
Around and around I spun. I had no idea what was going on anymore.
I was truly happy the God of Colds had left Mr. Rihaku, but now it had whisked me off into the sky.
After being sucked out of the reservoir by the tornado, I was still rising. It was like heading up into the sky sliding down a spiral slide in reverse. I went higher and higher at a tremendous speed and went with the flow. I’d probably gotten pretty high, but it was dark, and I couldn’t see anything, so I got bored. How high am I going to go anyway?
When I looked up, I saw a row of twinkling lanterns glide by in the darkness. They were on a string like a train. They must have gotten sucked up somewhere along the way. I thought that was a beautiful find. When I squinted, I could make out the figure of a petite woman attached to the very end. She was clinging to the lanterns with her eyes squeezed shut. The moment I thought she was a beautiful find, too, I realized it was the girl.
The only thing that occurred to my mind was the word coincidence.
Anyone insensitive enough to rain on my parade by saying It’s just a dream can go get eaten by dogs. Dreams, reality—that wasn’t the heart of the problem. Certainly, my talent bank was running low. But I’d been forgetting the one ability—my greatest—left to me: the power to confuse dreams for reality!
If I can rescue her from this crisis, I can open up new and glorious horizons in my life, I thought. Undoubtedly. My fantasies were unstoppable once my passion started burning, and the highlight reel of my future went by like the shadows of a revolving lantern—from scenes of my first date with her to winning the Nobel Prize. With so many spectacular prospects filling the deep grooves of my brain, it was impossible to keep my feet on the ground. My body grew lighter as if I were being filled with helium.
Using Higuchi-Style Flight, I soared like a Steller’s sea eagle.
When I grabbed the end of the lanterns and pulled, she opened her eyes slightly. The roaring of the wind was too loud, so we couldn’t say anything.
She smiled and in a voice that wasn’t a voice said, “Funny seeing you here.”
I replied in a voice that wasn’t a voice, “I just happened to be passing by.”
I reeled her in and held out my hand.
She grabbed it.
Holding on to her, I flipped and tried to escape the howling tornado. Pushing through the torrent of whirling air, we were proceeding through the gloomy clouds when the darkness imprisoning us abruptly broke, and our field of vision expanded. Freed from the rampaging winds, we found ourselves gliding in a clear sky.
And as we squeezed each other’s hands, we saw the city of Kyoto below us. The mountains surrounding it were faintly misty.
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The university where we had the school festival; Tadasu no Mori, where the used bookfair was held; Ponto-cho, where we walked that long night; the business district; the Kamo River; the temples and shrines; the forest of the imperial palace; Mount Yoshida; Mount Daimonji; and the roofs of the houses, apartments, and complexes where the countless people connected by the strings of fate lived—it was all fading into the purple morning mist, waiting for sunrise. Freezing in the frigid air, we descended toward the predawn streets.
Suddenly, she leaned in and shouted, “Namu-namu!”
With sparkles in her eyes, she watched the brilliant first ray of sunlight stream from the direction of Nyoigatake, beyond Daimonji. The light was gorgeous hitting her fair cheeks.
We watched dawn arrive on the city sunken in indigo mist like a cascade of dominoes.
When I opened my eyes in bed, I moved my groggy head, still facedown. The happiness I’d experienced a thousand feet over Kyoto ebbed like a tide.
Thrust back into reality, I opened my mouth against my pillow and groaned, “Uuuuugh.” It’d been such a realistic dream. I remembered the touch of her hand so vividly. Wait a minute, isn’t this a little too vivid?
When I turned my head, she was sitting there on her feet holding my hand. The bright morning sunlight shone on her black hair. She was gazing at me with gorgeous, slightly moist eyes—almost as if she was worried about me.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Then I remembered: The moment I fell for her was when she peered at me, as I was about to spit at the heavens by the pond. It was at dawn, the morning after the night we walked Ponto-cho. What a long way we’d come since then.
I was swept away by sexual desire, I couldn’t resist society’s trends, my loneliness was unbearable—a myriad of thoughts passed through my mind, but soon all those transient things disappeared, and I was left only with the impression of her gleaming eyes, her voice like a whisper, and her beautiful cheeks.
The Night Is Short, Walk on Girl Page 21