Japanese Literature

“One.”

　One of Takeichi’s predictions came true and one did not. One of Takeichi’s prophecies came true, and one did not. The unhonorable prophecy that he would be loved came true, but the blessed prophecy that he would become a great painter did not.
　I was only able to become an obscure and inferior cartoonist for an inferior magazine.
　Because of the incident in Kamakura, I was expelled from high school, and I slept and slept in a three-mat room on the second floor of Hirame’s house. Hirame was always in a foul mood and never laughed when she smiled at him. The change was so terrible that it was almost ridiculous.
You can’t leave,” he said. Anyway, please don’t go out.
　That’s all she said to herself.
　Hirame seemed to think that he was in danger of committing suicide, that is, that he was in danger of jumping back into the sea after the woman, so he strictly forbade himself to go out. But I couldn’t drink or smoke, and I was living like an idiot from morning to night, huddled under a three-tatami kotatsu on the second floor, reading old magazines.
　Hirame’s house was located near the medical school in Okubo, and although the signboard read “Seiryuen,” a calligraphic and antique dealer, it was one of two houses in one building, with a narrow frontage, a dusty interior, and a lot of inappropriate junk (although Hirame did not rely on the junk in the store to do business). The store was full of dust, and it was full of junk. (However, Hirame does not rely on the junk in the shop for her business, but she makes money by taking an active part in cases where she has to hand over the ownership of the so-called husband’s treasured items to the so-called husband over there. Whenever he had a spare moment, he would play catch with the neighborhood kids outside, but he seemed to think that the upstairs tenant was either a fool or a lunatic. He listened and obeyed with a tired and impressed look on his face. The boy was Shibuta’s illegitimate son, and yet for some strange reason, Shibuta had never claimed to be his son or daughter, and there seemed to be a reason why Shibuta had always been single. I had heard some rumors about it from my own family, but I don’t know anything about it because I’m not really interested in other people’s affairs. I don’t know anything about it because I’m not really interested in what happens to other people. However, there was something about the boy’s eyes that reminded me of the eyes of a fish, or maybe he really was Hirame’s illegitimate son. Sometimes, late at night, the two of them would order soba noodles and eat them together in silence, without telling the person upstairs.
　At Hirame’s house, the little boy always prepared the meals, and only the meals for the troublesome people upstairs were put on separate plates and brought upstairs by the little boy three times a day.
　One evening at the end of March, Hirame had either found an unexpected windfall or had some other trick up her sleeve (even if both of these two guesses were correct, there were probably several more reasons that I could not have guessed). He invited himself downstairs to the dining table, which was unusually furnished with a choshi (sake bottle), admired and praised the tuna sashimi, not Hirame, and offered a little sake to the absent-minded housemate.
“What are you going to do now, exactly?
　Instead of answering, I picked up a tatami sardine from a plate on the table and looked at the silvery eyes of the little fish.
　Since I had come to this house, I had not had the heart to play the role of a clown, and I had just laid myself down in the scorn of Hirame and the boy, and Hirame seemed to be avoiding talking to me at length, and I had no desire to go after Hirame to complain about anything.
I was almost like a dunce in the house. “Deferred prosecution doesn’t mean a criminal record or anything like that. So, well, you can be rehabilitated by your mind. If you change your mind and seriously ask me for advice, I’ll think about it.
　Hirame’s way of speaking, and indeed, the way all people in the world speak, has this complicated, somewhat dazed, fugitive, subtle complexity to it. I was always bewildered and felt like I didn’t care, so I would make fun of them with clownishness or leave them to their own devices with a silent nod.
　In later years, I learned that all Hirame had to do was simply report to me as follows, and I felt depressed at her unnecessary caution, and at the incomprehensible vanity of the people of the world.
　All Hirame had to do at that moment was to say, “I don’t care if it’s government or private.
All Hirame had to say at that time was, “Go to any school, government or private, from April. Your living expenses are supposed to be more than enough to pay for your schooling.
　I found out much later that that was the way it was supposed to be. And I would have followed the instructions. But because of Hirame’s cautious and roundabout way of saying things, things got strangely complicated and my direction in life changed.
“I can’t help it if you don’t feel like coming to me for advice.
“What kind of advice?”
　I really had no idea what I was talking about.
“That’s what’s on your mind, isn’t it?
“Like what?
“Like, what are you going to do with yourself?
“Do you want me to work?
“No, I mean, what are you thinking about?
“I mean, I’m going to school. ……
“Yes, I need money. But the problem is not money. It’s your feelings.
　Why didn’t he just say, “The money is supposed to come from your country. That one word should have set my mind, but I was in a fog.
“What do you think?　Do you have any kind of hope for the future?　Thank you very much, you have no idea how difficult it is to take care of one person.
“I’m sorry.
“I’m really worried about you. Now that I’ve taken care of you, I don’t want you to be half-hearted either. I want you to show me how determined you are to follow the path of rehabilitation. For example, if you were to ask me for serious advice about your future plans, I would be willing to give you that advice. Since this is the assistance of poor Hirame, it would be a mistake to expect the same luxury as before. However, if you are firm in your mind and have a clear plan for the future, and if you come to me for advice, I am willing to help you with your rehabilitation, even if it is only a small amount. Do you understand?　Do you understand how I feel? What are you going to do now?
“If they don’t put me upstairs here, I’m going to work at …….
“Are you really saying that?　In today’s world, even if you graduate from the Imperial College, you’ll still have to work at …….
“No, I’m not going to be a salaryman.
“What are you then?
“I’m a painter.
　I said it boldly.
“Huh?”
　I couldn’t forget the sly look on Hirame’s face as she laughed with her neck wrinkled. It was like a shadow of disdain, but differently, if the world were an ocean, there would be a strange shadow hovering in the depths of the ocean, like a glimpse into the depths of an adult’s life.
　I went upstairs as if I were being chased and went to bed, but no thought came to me. I went upstairs as if I were being chased.
　I am sure I will return in the evening. I will go to the friend on the left to consult with him about my future plans, so don’t worry. Don’t worry.
　I then wrote down Masao Horiki’s name and address in Asakusa and secretly left Hirame’s house.
　I didn’t run away from Hirame because I was annoyed that she lectured me. As Hirame had said, I was a man without a strong will, and I had no idea what I would do in the future, and it would be a pity for Hirame to have me in trouble with her. And if I should ever get the urge to get inspired and make up my mind, it would be a painful and uncomfortable feeling to think that I would have to get monthly support from that poor Hirame.
　However, I had not left Hirame’s house with the intention of going to Horiki for advice on my so-called “future plans”. Rather, I wrote the letter to reassure Hirame, even if it was only for a short while (I wrote the letter out of a detective story-like ploy to get as far away from Hirame as possible in the meantime. It would be more accurate to say that I was afraid of shocking Hirame and confusing him. It was one of my sad habits to always put on some kind of decoration, because I was afraid of telling the truth, even though it was bound to be found out anyway. Even though I knew that the change in the atmosphere was chokingly horrible and would be detrimental to me later, my “desperate service” was distorted, weak, and ridiculous. At that time, I just wrote Horiki’s name and address on a piece of paper as it came to me from the bottom of my memory.
　I left Hirame’s house, walked to Shinjuku, sold the books in my pocket, and was still at a loss. Aside from playmates like Horiki, all my social contacts had been painful, and I had tried my best to act like a fool to relieve the pain. He was so exhausted that when he saw the face of someone he knew slightly, or even a face that looked like him, he would be startled, and for a moment, he would get a dizzying shiver of discomfort. I knew that people liked me, but it seemed that I lacked the ability to love others. (I doubt very much that people in the world have the ability to love.) As such, there was no way I could have a so-called “best friend,” and I didn’t even have the ability to “visit. The gates of other people’s houses were even more creepy to me than the gates of Hell in the Divine Comedy, and I could feel, without exaggeration, the presence of fishy, foul-smelling beasts like horrible dragons crawling behind the gates.
　I don’t have any relations with anyone. I can’t go anywhere to visit.
　Horiki.
　It was a joke that turned out to be a pawn. As I had written in the letter, I decided to visit Horiki in Asakusa. In the past, I had never visited Horiki’s house on my own, and I had usually sent him a telegram to invite him to my place. With a sigh, I got on the streetcar and realized that Horiki was my only hope in this world, and I felt a terrible chill run down my spine.
　Horiki was at home. In a two-story house at the end of a dirty alley, Horiki occupied the only room on the second floor, a six-tatami mat, while downstairs, Horiki’s elderly parents and a young craftsman were sewing and beating geta cords.
　That day, Horiki showed me a new side of him as an urbanite. He was, as they say, a shrewd man. It was a cold and sly egoism that made me, a country bumpkin, look at him with astonishment. He was not a man who just flowed incessantly as I did.
I’m so tired of you,” he said. Has your grandfather given you his permission yet? Have you?
　I couldn’t say that I had escaped.
　I could not say that I had escaped, so I had to use the word “rei” to cover it up. I was sure that Horiki would find out soon enough, but I faked it.
“I’ll figure it out.
“Come on, it’s not funny. I’d advise you to stop being so stupid. I’ve got some business to attend to today. I’ve been ridiculously busy lately.
“What kind of business?
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cut the threads of the zabuton.
　As I was talking, I was unconsciously fidgeting with one of the four corner threads of my zabuton, the binding thread or cord, and pulling it with my fingertips. Horiki was not ashamed to admit that even a single thread of a zabuton could be spared if it came from Horiki’s house. When I thought about it, Horiki had not lost anything in her relationship with herself so far.
　Horiki’s old mother brought her two trays of oshiruko.
“What’s this?
　Horiki, like the filial son he had always been, turned to his mother and said, “I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry, is it oshiruko? You’re so bold. I didn’t need to worry about this. I didn’t need to worry about it, because I had to go out right away on an errand. No, but it’s a waste of your prized oshiruko. I’ll have one. Why don’t you have one too? My mother took the trouble to make it for me. Oh, it’s so good. He’s so bold.
　As if it were not an act, he was overjoyed and ate it with relish. I sipped it myself, but I could smell the hot water, and when I ate the rice cake, it was not rice cake, but something I did not understand. It was not that I despised the poverty. I didn’t think it tasted bad at that time, and I was deeply touched by the thoughtfulness of my old mother. (I didn’t think it tasted bad at the time, and I was deeply touched by my old mother’s thoughtfulness. I have a fear of poverty, but I don’t think I despise it. I just want to write that I was so dismayed to feel as if even Horiki had abandoned me. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to say anything.
“I’m sorry, but I have some business to attend to today.
　I’m sorry, but I have some business to attend to today,” Horiki said as he stood up and put on his jacket.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.
　At that moment, Horiki had a female visitor, and his own life took a sudden turn.
　Horiki became suddenly animated.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was just about to come to you, but this person came unexpectedly, and I don’t mind. Come on in.
　Seemingly in a panic, he took off his own zabuton, turned it inside out and offered it to the woman, who snatched it back, turned it inside out again and offered it to him. There was only one other guest futon in the room besides Horiki’s.
　The woman was thin and had a high back. She sat in a corner near the entrance, leaving the mattress by her side.
　I listened to their conversation in a daze. The woman seemed to be from a magazine company, and she had asked Horiki to do some cutting or something, and she seemed to have come to pick it up.
“I’m in a hurry.
“It’s ready. It’s already done. Here you go.”
　A telegram came.
　Horiki read it, and his good mood quickly turned sour.
“Shit!　What’s wrong with you?
　It was a telegram from Hirame.
“Anyway, go home at once. It would be nice if I could take you home, but I don’t have time for that right now. I don’t have time for that now. You look so carefree, even though you’re a runaway.
“Where do you live?
“Okubo.
　I answered abruptly.
“I suddenly answered, “Well, it’s near the office.
　The woman was born in Koshu and was twenty-eight years old. She was twenty-eight years old and lived in an apartment in Koenji with her five-year-old daughter. She told me that it had been three years since she had lost her husband.
“You seem to have had a hard life growing up. You seem to have had a very difficult upbringing. I feel sorry for you.
　After Shizuko (that was the name of the reporter) left for a job at a magazine in Shinjuku, I was left to stay at home quietly with myself and a five-year-old girl named Shigeko. Up until then, Shigeko had been playing in the apartment manager’s room when her mother was away, but now she was in a much better mood with her “thoughtful” uncle as her playmate.
　I stayed there for about a week in a daze. One of the kites was stuck to the power lines near the window of my apartment, blown by the dusty spring breeze and torn down, but it was still stuck to the power lines, nodding its head and all. I had nightmares.
“I need money.
“…… How much?”
“A lot. …… It’s true what they say, when you’re out of money, you’re out of luck.
“That’s ridiculous. That’s so old-fashioned, …….
“Really?　But you don’t get it, do you? If I don’t do something, I might have to run.
“Which one of us is poorer? Which one of us is poor, and which one of us is going to run away? That’s weird.
“I want to earn my own money and use it to buy alcohol, or cigarettes. I think I’m a much better painter than Horiki.
　At this time, what naturally came to my mind were the self-portraits of Takeichi’s so-called “ghosts” that he had drawn in junior high school. A lost masterpiece. They were lost during my frequent moves, but I have a feeling that they were excellent paintings. After that, even though I tried to paint various pictures, they were far from the gems of my memories, and I was always plagued by a languid sense of loss that left me feeling empty inside.
　A glass of absinthe left undrunk.
　That’s how I secretly described my eternal and uncompensable sense of loss. Whenever the subject of painting came up, that leftover glass of absinthe would flicker before my eyes, and I would feel a pang of impatience, wanting to show that painting to this person and make him believe in my artistic talent.
“I wanted to show him that painting and make him believe in my talent. I don’t know about you, but you’re so cute when you make jokes with a serious face.
　I’m not joking, I’m telling the truth, I want to show you that picture.
Then he suddenly changed his mind, gave up, and said, “A cartoon. At least, I think I’m better than Horiki at cartoons.
　The clown’s deceitful words were taken more seriously.
“That’s right. I’ve always admired the cartoons you draw for Shigeko, and I can’t help but gush over them. Why don’t you give it a try?　I can ask the editor-in-chief of my company to give it a try.
　The company was publishing a little-known monthly magazine for children.
　The company published a little-known monthly magazine for children. …… When most women see you, they can’t wait to do something for you. …… You’re always so frightening, and yet so funny. …… Sometimes he’s very sad and alone, and that makes a woman’s heart itch even more.
　I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not a woman or because I’m a man. In spite of her efforts, she ended up having to rely on Shizuko more and more, and she had to take care of almost everything, including the cleaning up of her runaway from home, by this Koshu woman who was much more of a man than a woman, and she had to be even more “frightened” of Shizuko.
　Thanks to Shizuko’s arrangement, Hirame, Horiki, and Shizuko had a meeting, and I was completely cut off from my hometown, and I ended up living with Shizuko “under the sun. Thanks to Shizuko’s hard work, I was able to make some money, and I used the money to buy alcohol and cigarettes, but my anxiety and annoyance only grew. When I was drawing the monthly comic strip “The Adventures of Kinta and Ota” for Shizuko’s magazine, I was suddenly reminded of my hometown house, and I felt so shabby that I couldn’t move my pen anymore.
　Shigeko called me “Dad” without any hesitation at that time.
“When I prayed, I felt God’s presence. Is it true that if you pray, God will give you everything?
　I wanted to say that prayer myself.
　I wanted to say that prayer myself, “Oh, give me a cold will. Let me know the nature of man. Let it be no sin for a man to push another away. Give me the mask of wrath.
“Yes, yes. I’m sure He’ll give you everything you need, but maybe not for your father.
　I was frightened, even of God. I couldn’t believe in God’s love, but only in God’s punishment. Faith. He felt as if he was going to the judgment seat with a nod of his head to receive God’s lash. He could believe in hell, but he could not believe in heaven.
“Why can’t I?”
“Because I disobeyed my parents.”
“Really?　Everyone says your father is a very good man.
　I know I’m being deceptive, I know that everyone in this apartment likes me, but it’s hard to explain to Shigeko how afraid I am of everyone, how the more I fear them, the more they like me, and the more they like me, the more I fear them, and the more I have to stay away from them.
“What on earth do you want to ask God for, Shigeru-chan?
　I casually turned the conversation around.
“Shigeko wants a real father for her.
　I was startled and dizzy. An enemy. I wondered if I was Shigeko’s enemy, or if Shigeko was my enemy, but anyway, here was another horrible adult threatening me, a stranger, an inexplicable stranger, a stranger full of secrets, Shigeko’s face suddenly looked like that.
　I had hoped that Shigeko was the only one, but it turned out that he, too, had the tail of a cow that unexpectedly swatted away flies. From then on, I had to be frightened even of Shigeko.
“Shiki-ma!　Are you there?”
　Horiki had started to come to her again. The man who had made me feel so lonely on the day I ran away from home, I couldn’t refuse him and greeted him with a faint smile.
“I heard that your manga is becoming quite popular. Amateurs are no match for you because they have the courage to be scary and shit. But don’t let your guard down. But don’t let your guard down, because your sketching isn’t even close to being up to par.
　He even showed the attitude of a master. I wondered what his face would be like if I showed him my “ghost” drawing.
“Don’t say that to me. Don’t tell me that. I’ll scream in pain.
　Horiki finally said with a smile on his face.
“If you only have the talent to walk the world, you’ll get ripped apart someday.
　A talent for worldly affairs. I really couldn’t help but laugh at …… myself. I have a talent for worldly affairs!　But to be afraid of, avoid, and cheat people as I do is the same as adhering to the common proverb, “There is no luck in a god who does not touch you. Oh, I think that people do not understand each other, they see each other completely wrongly, but they think that they are the best of friends, and they do not realize it all their lives, and when the other person dies, they cry and read condolences.
　Horiki, after all, was the one who had been there for me when I ran away from home (though I must have accepted reluctantly at Shizuko’s urging), so she acted as if she were a great benefactor of my rehabilitation or an iceman under the moon, giving me lectures with a plausible face, visiting me drunkenly late at night to stay overnight, and borrowing five yen (it was always five yen).
“He would also visit her drunkenly late at night and borrow five yen. The world will not allow you to go any further.
　What in the world is “the world”? Is it the plural of human beings? Where is the reality of the world? I had always thought of it as something strong, harsh, and scary, but when Horiki said that, I suddenly realized that it was not.
“But when Horiki told me that, I suddenly thought, “The world is you, isn’t it?
　However, when Horiki said that to me, the words, “The world is you, isn’t it?
I didn’t want to offend Horiki.
(It’s not the world. It’s not the world, it’s you, isn’t it?
If you do that, the world will give you a hard time.
(It’s not the world. It’s you, isn’t it?
The world will bury you now.
It’s not the world. It’s you who will be buried, isn’t it?
　　But I just wiped the sweat from my face with a handkerchief and said
“I just wiped the sweat from my face with a handkerchief and said, “Cold sweat, cold sweat.
　I just wiped the sweat from my face with a handkerchief and smiled.
　Since then, however, I have had a kind of thought that the world is an individual.
　To borrow a phrase from Shizuko, I became a little more selfish and less frightened. To borrow a phrase from Shizuko, I have become a little more selfish and less frightened, and to borrow a phrase from Horiki, I have become a little more stingy. To borrow a phrase from Shigeko, I have become less attached to Shigeko.
　I don’t talk much, I don’t laugh, and every day, while I’m doing Shigeko’s bidding, I’ve been working on “The Adventures of Mr. Kinta and Mr. Ota,” “Nonki Osho,” which is a clear subgenre of “Nonki Toussaint,” and “Sekkachi Pinchan,” a series of manga with a title that I don’t understand and that I’m desperate for. In response to orders from various publishers (some of which came from Shizuko’s company, but all of which were from so-called third-rate publishers who were even more vulgar than Shizuko’s company), I drew slowly, with a very gloomy mood (my drawing was very slow). Then, when Shizuko came home from the office, I would take turns going outside to drink cheap, strong sake at a food stall or bar near the Koenji station, and then return to my apartment in a slightly cheerful mood.
“The more I looked at you, the stranger you looked, and I actually got the idea for Nonki Osho’s face from your sleeping face.
“Even your face is getting old,” he said. You look like a forty-year-old man.
“It’s your fault. You’ve sucked me dry. The flow of water and human flesh are the same thing. What are you moping about at the riverside?
“Don’t make a fuss, go to sleep. Don’t make a fuss.
　He was calm and unconcerned.
“I’ll have a drink. The flow of water and a man’s body are the same thing. The flow of water and the body of water are the same.
　While singing, Shizuko would make me strip off my clothes, and I would fall asleep with my forehead pressed against Shizuko’s chest, and that was my daily life.

This was my daily life.
The next day, she did the same thing again.
The next day, he did the same thing, following the same conventions as yesterday.
In other words, as long as you avoid the wild and great joys
In other words, as long as you avoid the wild and loud joys, you will naturally avoid the sadness.
As long as you avoid the stones that block your way
The toad circles around and past.
End of indentation here.

　When I came across this poem by Guy-Charles Croix, translated by Toshi Ueda, I felt my face redden to the point of burning.
　Toad.
(That’s me. There is nothing that the world will or will not forgive. There is no way to bury or not to bury. I am an inferior animal, no better than a dog or a cat. Toad. (It’s just moving slowly.)
　My drinking has gradually increased, not only in the vicinity of Koenji Station, but also in Shinjuku and Ginza, where I go out to drink and even stay out overnight. In other words, he had become even rougher and meaner than he had been before his passionate death, and he was so desperate for money that he took Shizuko’s clothes.
　It had been more than a year since I came here and laughed at that torn kite, and around the time of the cherry blossoms, I took Shizuko’s sash and undershirt to the pawn shop again, made some money, drank at Ginza, and stayed out two nights in a row.
“Why do you drink alcohol?
“My father doesn’t drink because he likes it. My father doesn’t drink because he likes it, but because he’s such a nice guy. ……
“Do nice people drink?
“Not really. ……
“Your father will be very surprised.
“He might not like it. Look, look, he’s jumping out of the box.
“It’s like Sekkachi Pinchan.
“Yeah.
　I could hear Shizuko’s low, happy laughter from inside.
　I opened the door narrowly and peeked inside to see that it was a white rabbit. It was a white rabbit, scampering around the room, and the mother and child were chasing it.
(How happy are these people? (They are so happy, these people.) I, a fool, got into the middle of them, and now I’m going to ruin them. They are happy. A good father and son. Happiness, oh, if only God would hear the prayers of someone like me, just once, just once in my lifetime, I would pray.
　I felt like I wanted to huddle there and join my hands. I closed the door softly and went back to Ginza, never to return to the apartment again.
　So, I ended up lying on the second floor of a stand-bar near kyobashi, again in the shape of a man.
　The world. I felt that I was beginning to understand it. It’s a battle between individuals, and it’s a battle on the spot, and all you have to do is win on the spot. The difficulties of the world are the difficulties of the individual, and the ocean is not the world but the individual. I have learned to behave a little more brazenly, as it were, according to my immediate needs, without being so limitlessly careless.
　I left my apartment in Koenji and went to the madam of a stand-by in kyobashi.
“I’m leaving.”
　That was all I needed to say to the madam of the kyobashi stand-by, and that night I was forced to stay upstairs in the kyobashi. As long as the madam was willing, everything was fine.
　I was like a customer, a husband, an errand boy, a relative, and a very unknown person to the world, but “the world” did not blame me in the slightest.
　I became less and less cautious about the world. I began to think that the world was not such a horrible place. In other words, my previous fears had been that the spring breeze would be filled with hundreds of thousands of whooping cough mold, the public baths would be filled with hundreds of thousands of blinding mold, the barber shops would be filled with hundreds of thousands of bald head mold, the hanging skins of the railway lines would be filled with scabies worms, or the sashimi and pork would be filled with scabies worms. The larvae of the chrysomelid worm and the eggs of the dystoma and other worms were always hidden in the raw meat, and if you walked barefoot, small fragments of glass would enter through the soles of your feet and run around inside your body, poking your eyeballs and causing blindness. It was as if we were being terrorized by so-called “scientific superstition. It is true that hundreds of thousands of fungi floating and swimming in the air are “scientifically” accurate. At the same time, I have come to realize that if you completely silence their existence, they are just “ghosts of science” that will disappear as soon as they have no connection to you. How frightened I am by such “scientific statistics” as how many bales of rice are already thrown away if ten million people eat three grains of leftover rice in their lunch boxes in a day, or how much pulp will be saved if ten million people save one sheet of nosepaper a day. Every time I left even one grain of rice uneaten, every time I sniffed, I was troubled by the illusion that I was wasting a mountain of rice and a mountain of pulp, and I felt gloomy, as if I was committing a grave sin. However, that was the “lie of science,” the “lie of statistics,” and the “lie of mathematics. Even as an applied problem of multiplication and division, it is a very primitive and incompetent subject, just like calculating the probability of how many times a person will step off one leg and fall into that hole in a dark, unlit toilet, or how many passengers will drop their feet into that gap between the entrance and exit of a train and the edge of the platform. It is as ridiculous as calculating probability, and it seems to be possible, but I have never heard of a single case where a person was injured by failing to step over a latrine hole, and I was taught such a hypothesis as “scientific fact,” and I accepted it as reality and was afraid of it. I was taught such a hypothesis as a “scientific fact” and accepted it as a reality.
　Even so, human beings were still frightening to me, and I had to drink a glass of alcohol before I could meet with customers at the store. I wanted to see something scary. Every night, I would still go out to the store and drunkenly spout off some lame artistic theory to the customers, like a child squeezing a small animal that is actually a little scared.
　Cartoonist. Ah, but I’m just an unknown cartoonist with no great joy and no great sorrow. No matter how much I rushed inwardly to have a big, wild joy, no matter how big a sorrow would come later, the only joy I had at the moment was arguing with my customers and drinking their drinks.
　After arriving at kyobashi, I had been living this kind of trivial life for about a year, and my cartoons began to appear not only in magazines for children but also in crude and obscene magazines sold at train stations.

This is the first time I’ve done this.
If you stop praying in vain
I’ll be back in a few days.
Let’s just have a drink and remember all the good things.
Let’s forget about all the unnecessary thoughtfulness.

They’re the ones who scare people with their fears and anxieties
Frightened of the great sins they’ve created
Preparing for the vengeance of the dead.
And to prepare for the vengeance of the dead, they make plans in their own heads.

In the evening, when the wine is flowing, my heart is full of joy
This morning, it’s cool, it’s just desolate
In the midst of a night of wonder
I’m in a different mood

Please stop thinking that I’m cursed.
Like a drum echoing from afar
What’s wrong with him?
I can’t help it if I’m accused of every little thing, even farting.

Isn’t justice the guiding principle of life?
Farewell to the bloody battlefield.
What kind of justice dwells in the tip of an assassin’s tongue?
What kind of justice dwells within?

Where is the guiding principle?
What light of wisdom is there?
Beautiful but fearful is this world.
For the weak child of man is burdened with a burden he cannot bear

And the seeds of uncontrollable lust are planted in him
Cursed with good, evil, sin, punishment, and so on
I can’t do anything about it, I’m just confused
Without the strength or will to break it down

Where have you been wandering around?
What are you criticizing, examining, reaffirming?
Empty dreams, illusions that don’t exist.
I’ve forgotten to drink, so I’m just mulling things over.

Look at this empty sky.
It’s just a dot floating in the middle of the sky.
You don’t know why the earth rotates on its axis
It rotates, it revolves, it reverses itself.

Everywhere I feel the supreme power
In every nation, in every race
I find the same humanity in every nation, in every race.
I’m a heretic.

You’ve all misunderstood the scripture.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have common sense or wisdom.
They forbid the pleasures of the living, they stop drinking.
Okay, Mustafa, I hate that kind of thing.
I hate it.

　But at that time, there was a virgin who advised her to stop drinking.
“Oh, no, you’re drunk every day at noon.”
　She was the seventeen or eighteen-year-old daughter of a small tobacconist across the street from the bar, a white girl with double teeth. Whenever I went to buy cigarettes, she would laugh and warn me.
“Why not? Why is it wrong? Drink as much as you can, my child, and let the hatred go away, go away, go away. Do you understand?
“I don’t understand.
“Son of a bitch. I’m gonna kiss you.
“Come on.
　He sticks out his bottom lip, not a little offended.
“Asshole. Chastity, …….”
　But the look on Yoshi’s face clearly showed that she smelled like an untainted virgin.
　On a cold night after the New Year’s Eve, I was drunk, went out to buy cigarettes, fell into a manhole in front of a tobacco shop, yelled, “Yoshi-chan, save me!
“You’re drinking too much.
　She said without laughing.
　I don’t mind dying, but I don’t want to get injured, bleed out, and become a cripple, etc. So, as Yoshi-chan tended to the wound on my arm, I thought I should stop drinking.
“I’ll stop. I won’t drink a drop from tomorrow.
“Are you sure?
“I’m sure I will. If I stop, Yoshi, will you be my wife?
　But the wife thing was a joke.
“Mochi.”
　Mochi was an abbreviation for “of course. Mochi was an abbreviation for “of course.
“All right. Let’s do genman. I’m sure I’ll stop.
　So, the next day, I drank from noon.
　In the evening, I wandered out and stood in front of Yoshi-chan’s store.
“I’m sorry, Yoshi-chan. I drank too much.
“Oh, no. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to act drunk.
　I was surprised. I felt like I was sober.
“No, it’s true. I really drank. I’m not pretending to be drunk.
“Don’t make fun of me. Don’t make fun of me, I’m a bad person.
　They don’t want to suspect anything.
“I’m sure you can tell by looking at me. I’ve been drinking since noon today. You’ll have to forgive me.
“You’re a good actor, aren’t you?
“I’m not acting, you idiot. I’m gonna kiss you.
“Come on.
“No, I’m not qualified. No, I’m not qualified. I’ll have to give up being your wife. Look at your face. Isn’t it red?　I’ve been drinking.
“That’s because the sun is shining on you. Look at your face. I promised you yesterday. You couldn’t have drunk it. I’ve been drinking. It’s a lie, a lie, a lie that I drank.
　I had never slept with a virgin younger than me before, I would marry her, no matter what great sorrows came afterwards for that, I would have a lifetime of wild and great joy. I had thought that the beauty of virginity was just a sweet sentimental illusion of a foolish poet, but now I knew that it existed in this world. They did not hesitate to steal the flowers.
　We eventually got married, and the joy that came with it was not necessarily great, but the sorrow that followed was so unimaginably great that it would not be enough to call it horrible. For me, “the world” was still an unfathomable and frightening place. It was not an easy place where everything could be decided in a single game.

(#5 indented) 2.

　Horiki and myself.
　If this is what is called a “friendship” in this world, then the relationship between myself and Horiki must be a “friendship” as well.
　If I were to rely on the chivalrous spirit of the madam of the kyobashi stand-bar (chivalrous spirit of a woman is a strange word to use, but in my experience, at least in the case of men and women in the city, women have more chivalrous spirit than men. In the case of urban men and women, women have more chivalry than men. I was able to get Yoshiko, the tobacconist, to become my common-law wife, and we rented a room downstairs in a small, two-story wooden apartment in Tsukiji, near the Sumida River. After dinner, we went out to see a movie together, and on the way back, we went to a coffee shop and bought some flower pots. Just as I was beginning to have a faintly sweet thought that maybe I would be able to become more and more like a human being and not have to die a miserable death, Horiki appeared in front of me again.
“Hey!　Hey, color demon. Hmm?　Even so, you’ve become somewhat sensible looking. I’m here today on a mission from Lady Koenji.
　I was about to say this when he suddenly lowered his voice, looked at Yoshiko who was preparing tea in the kitchen with his chin, and asked her if she was all right.　I don’t care.
“I don’t care. I don’t care what you have to say.
　I said calmly.
　In fact, Yoshiko was such a genius at trust that she never doubted her relationship with the old lady of kyobashi, or even with Tsuneko when she informed her of the incident in Kamakura.
“You’re still so cocky. It’s nothing serious, just a message that you should come and visit us at Koenji once in a while.
　Just as I was about to forget, a mysterious bird came flapping its wings and pierced the wounds of my memory with its beak. Immediately, the memories of past shame and guilt unfold before your eyes, and you can’t sit still for fear of screaming.
“Shall I drink?
　I said to myself.
“Okay.”
　And Horiki.
　Myself and Horiki. We both looked alike in shape. There were times when I felt like we looked exactly alike. Of course, this only happened when we were drinking cheap sake here and there, but anyway, when we saw each other, we instantly turned into dogs of the same shape and coat, running around in the snowfall.
　After that day, we rekindled our old friendship, and I went with them to that little old lady in kyobashi, and finally, the two drunken dogs even visited Shizuko’s apartment in Koenji, and stayed there for the night.
　I’ll never forget it. It was a very hot summer night, and Horiki came to her apartment in Tsukiji at nightfall wearing a worn-out yukata, saying that she had pawned some summer clothes for a certain need and that it would be very bad if her old mother found out about the pawn. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any money of my own, so as usual, I told Yoshiko to take her clothes to the pawn shop and make some money. We then went to the roof of the apartment building and had a very dirty summer party with the stale wind that sometimes blew faintly from the Sumida River.
　At that time, we began to play the game of guessing comedic and tragic nouns. For example, a steamer and a train are both tragic nouns, while a streetcar and a bus are both comedic nouns. For example, steamship and train are both tragic nouns, while tram and bus are both comedic nouns. Any playwright who does not know why this is so is not worthy of discussing art.
“Are you ready?　Do you want a cigarette?
　I ask myself.
“Tiger. “Tra.
　Horiki replies subliminally.
“And the pills?
“Powder?　Pills?
“Injections.
“Tiger.
“You think so?　There’s also hormone injections.
“No, definitely tigers. Needles first. You’re a great tiger.
“Okay, I’ll give you that. But, you know, medicine and doctors, they’re more comedy than you think. What about death?
“Comedy. So are priests and monks.
“Very good. And life is a tiger.
“No. Rice.
“No, that would mean everything would be rice. Now, let me ask you something else. What about cartoonists?　You can’t call them comics, can you?
“Tiger, tiger. Big tragic noun!
“What? You’re the big tiger.
　It would have been boring if it had turned out to be a bad pun, but we were very proud of this game, which we thought was extremely clever and had never been seen before in any salon in the world.
　At that time, I had also invented another game similar to this one. It was a game of guessing antonyms. A black ant (short for “antonym”) is white. But a white ant is red. Red ants are black.
“What about flower ants?”
　Horiki’s mouth curved up in thought.
“Well, there was a restaurant called Hanazuki, so that’s the moon.
“No, that’s not an anto. No, that’s not an ant, it’s more of a synonym. Even stars and violets are synonyms, aren’t they? It’s not an ant.
“All right, it’s a bee.
“Bee?
“Peonies and …… ants?
“No, it’s a motif. Don’t cheat.
“All right!　Flowers and clouds. ……
“Clouds on the moon, right?
“Yes, yes. Flowers and wind. Wind. Flower and wind. Flower and wind.
“That’s not good. That’s a Naniwa-bushi phrase. That’s a Naniwa-bushi phrase. It shows your true character.
“No, it’s biwa.
“It’s Biwa. The anto of a flower should be …… the thing that looks the least like a flower in the world.
“So, uh, …… wait, what, a woman?
“What’s the synonym for woman, by the way?
“Offal.”
“You don’t know poetry, do you? So, what’s the ant of offal?
“Milk.
“That’s a little better. Keep it up. One more thing. Shame. Ant of guts.
“Shamelessness. Ikita Joshi, the cartoonist of the moment.
“What about Masao Horiki?”
　At this point, both of us started to feel like we couldn’t laugh anymore, and we started to feel gloomy, as if our heads were filled with shards of glass, which is typical of shochu drunkenness.
“Don’t get cocky. I’ve never been humiliated by a rope like you.
　Inwardly, Horiki didn’t think of himself as a real human being, only as a mortal, shameless, stupid fool, a so-called “living corpse,” who would use him wherever he could for his own pleasure. But then again, it was quite understandable that Horiki saw me that way. I had always been a child who didn’t deserve to be a human being, and perhaps even Horiki deserved to despise me. Maybe even Horiki deserved to be scorned.
“I’m not sure. What is the antonym for sin? This is a tough one.
　I don’t know,” he said, trying to look casual.
“The law.”
　Horiki replied matter-of-factly, and I looked at his face. In the red light of the flickering neon sign of a nearby building, Horiki’s face looked as dignified as a demon detective. Horiki’s face looked as dignified as that of an evil detective.
“That’s not what a crime is, is it?
　The synonym for sin is law!　But maybe that’s how easily people in the world think and live their lives. It is only where there are no criminals that sin thrives.
“What is it then, God?　There’s something about you that’s a little bit like a fucking monk. It’s a taste.
“Don’t take it so lightly. Let’s see what we can come up with. This is an interesting topic, though, isn’t it? It seems to me that one answer to this theme can tell you everything about a person.
“No way. …… Ant of sin is goodness. A good citizen. He’s like me.
“Don’t joke about it. But good is the Ant of evil, not the Ant of sin. But good is the Ant of evil, not the Ant of sin.
“Is there a difference between evil and sin?
“No, I don’t think so. The concept of good and evil is man-made. It’s a man-made moral language.
“Shut up. Then it must be God. God, God. God, God, God. I’m starving.
“Yoshi is boiling fava beans right now.
“Thank you. It’s my favorite food.
　I lay down on my back with my hands folded behind my head.
“You don’t seem to have the slightest interest in sin, do you?
“I’m not a sinner like you, you know. Of course, I’m not a sinner like you. I may take pleasure in it, but I don’t let women die and I don’t take money from them.
　Somewhere in the back of my mind, a faint but desperate protest arises, “I didn’t make her die, I didn’t take her money,” but then I immediately think back to the fact that it was my fault.
　I just can’t bring myself to have a straightforward discussion. I tried my best to suppress the gloomy drunkenness of the soju, which was making me feel worse by the minute, and said to myself, almost as if I were talking to myself.
“But being thrown in jail is not the only crime. I think that if we can understand the ant of sin, we can understand the substance of sin. …… God, …… salvation, …… love, … …light, …… but God has an anto called Satan, salvation anto would be suffering, love has an anto called hate, light has anto called darkness, good has anto called evil, sin and prayer, sin and repentance, sin and confession, sin and …… Aha, they’re all synonyms, what’s the opposite of sin?
“What is the opposite of sin? The counterpart of “tsumi” is “mitsu,” which is as sweet as honey. I’m starving. Bring me something to eat.
“Why don’t you bring me something to eat?
　For almost the first time in his life, he shouted in anger.
“All right, then, let’s go there and commit the crime together. Let’s go to Shita and commit the crime together. The guilty party is the honey bean, or is it the spider bean?
　I was so drunk that I could barely speak.
“Suit yourself. Go away!
“Sin and hunger, hunger and peas, or is that a synonym?
　”Sin and hunger, hunger and peas.
　Sin and punishment. Dostoyevsky. It flashed through the corner of my mind, and I thought, “What if that Dostoevsky is the one? What if Mr. Dost hadn’t thought of Crime and Punishment as a synonym, but had placed it as an antonym?　Crime and punishment, absolutely incompatible, incompatible with glacial coal. When I was thinking of sin and punishment as antonyms in the depths of Dost’s blue, rotten pond, the depths of turbulence, …… ah, I almost understood, no, not yet, …… and so on, when a running lantern was spinning in my brain, I thought
“Hey!　”Hey, it’s a pea. Come on!”
　Horiki’s voice and complexion had changed; he had just gotten up and wandered off, only to come back again.
“What?”
　The two of them went downstairs from the rooftop, and halfway down the stairs to their room further downstairs, Horiki stopped and said, “Look!
“Look!”
　Horiki stops in the middle of the stairs going down from the second floor to her room downstairs.
　Horiki stops in the middle of the stairs leading downstairs to her room, and points to a small window above her room. The lights are still on and there are two animals.
　I stood there on the stairs, dizzy, muttering in my chest with rapid breathing, “This is a human being, this is a human being, there is nothing to be afraid of,” forgetting to help Yoshi.
　Horiki let out a loud cough. The emotion that struck me was not anger, disgust, or sadness, but sheer terror. It was not the fear of a ghost in a cemetery, but an ancient and violent fear, the kind you might feel when you meet a white-robed deity in a cedar grove at a shrine. My youthful gray hair began that night, and I began to lose confidence in everything, to doubt people to the depths of my being, and to withdraw forever from all expectations, joy, and resonance with the workings of this world. In fact, it was a decisive event in my life. I had been split right between the eyes, and ever since then, the wound hurt every time I approached any human being.
“I sympathize with you, but I think you’ve learned your lesson. I’ll never come back here again. It’s like hell. You can go to …… and forgive Yoshi-chan. You’re not a good guy, either. Excuse me.
　Horiki was not stupid enough to stay in an awkward place for long.
　I got up, drank some shochu by myself, and then cried out loud. I could cry as much or as little as I wanted.
　Before I knew it, Yoshiko was standing in the background, holding a plate piled high with fava beans.
“Tell me you’re not going to do anything, …….”
“Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. You never knew how to doubt anyone. Sit down. Let’s eat some beans.
　We sat side by side and ate the beans. Oh, trust is a sin, isn’t it?　The other man was a small, uneducated merchant of about thirty years of age who made me draw cartoons for him and then left me a small amount of money.
　The merchant never came back, but for some reason I felt more hatred and anger toward Horiki, who had come back to the rooftop to tell me the news without even coughing loudly when I first found him, than hatred toward him.
　There is nothing to forgive or not to forgive, Yoshiko is a genius of trust. He never knew how to doubt anyone. But that is why he is so miserable.
　Ask God. Is trust a sin?
　The fact that Yoshi’s trust was tainted, rather than the fact that Yoshi’s trust was tainted, caused me so much anguish that I could not live for a long time afterwards. For someone like me, who was so frightened, who was always looking at other people’s faces, and whose ability to trust others was cracked, the innocence of Yoshi’s trust was as refreshing as a waterfall of green leaves. Overnight, it had turned into yellow sewage. Behold, from that night onwards, Yoshi started to care even about his every smile.
“Hey!
　He twitched when I called him “Hey,” and seemed to be at a loss for where to put his eyes. No matter how much I tried to make him laugh, no matter how much I tried to clown him, he would become frightened and fearful.
　I wondered if an innocent trusting heart is the original spring of sin.
　I tried to find and read various books about married women who had been raped. But I could not find a single woman who had been raped in such a tragic way as Yoshiko. It’s not a story at all. If there had been even a hint of love between the little merchant and Yoshi, my feelings might have been saved, but there was only one night in the summer when Yoshi trusted her, and that was it. And for that reason, his own eyebrows were split open, his voice became hoarse, his hair began to turn gray, and he had to live in fear for the rest of his life. Most of the stories seemed to focus on whether or not the husband would forgive the wife’s “act,” but that didn’t seem to be such a big problem for me. If he felt that he could not forgive her, he should not make such a big deal about it, but should just leave her and get a new wife. In any case, I even felt that all sides of the story would be settled by the husband’s feelings. In other words, even though such an incident was a great shock to my husband, it seemed to me that it was just a “shock,” and unlike the endlessly lapping waves, it was a problem that could be handled by the anger of my husband who had the right to do so. However, in their case, the husband had no rights, and when she thought about it, she felt as if everything was her fault, so she couldn’t even say a single thing to him, let alone get angry. The wife was raped because of a rare quality that she possessed, and that quality was her husband’s longed-for trust in her innocence, which was so lovely.
　The trust of innocence is a sin.
　Even the beauty that was her only hope was now in doubt, and she no longer understood what was going on, and the only thing she could think of was alcohol. The expression on my face became extremely disgusting, I drank soju from morning, my teeth chipped to pieces, and I began to draw almost obscene cartoons. No, let me be clear. From that time on, I began to copy and sell shunga. I wanted to have money to buy shochu. When I looked at Yoshiko, who was always looking away from me, I wondered if she had been with that merchant more than once, because she was a completely unguarded woman, and if Horiki was?　No, or even with someone I didn’t know?　So I just drank shochu and got drunk, and tried to ask a few sneaky questions, and felt silly inside. And then, after that, I would give her the hellish caresses she desperately needed, and sleep like a muddle.
　At the end of the year, I came home drunk and wanted to drink some sugar water, and since Yoshi seemed to be asleep, I went to my room and found a sugar jar. When I opened the lid, I found that there was no sugar in the jar, but a small black paper box. I casually picked it up and was astonished to see the label on the box. More than half of the label had been scratched off with my fingernails, but the Western letters were still there, and they were clearly written on it: DIAL.
　DIAL. At that time, I was using soju exclusively and not hypnotics, but I was familiar with most hypnotics because insomnia was like a chronic disease for me. This one box of Ziar was definitely more than a lethal dose. He hadn’t sealed the box yet, but he must have hidden it in here at some point with the intention of scratching off the label and all. The poor kid couldn’t read the Western characters on the label, so he must have scratched off half of it with his fingernails and thought it was okay. (You are not to blame.)
　I gently filled a glass of water, trying not to make a sound, then slowly broke the seal of the box and dropped the whole thing into my mouth at once, drank the water from the glass calmly, turned off the light and went to bed.
　For three days and nights, he felt as if he were dead. The doctor considered it to be negligence and gave him some time to report it to the police. When he was about to wake up, the first thing he muttered to himself was that he was going home. I don’t know where he meant by “home”, but anyway, he said that and cried terribly.
　The fog gradually lifted, and I found Hirame sitting by my bedside with a very unhappy expression on her face.
“The other day, at the end of the year, we were both so busy that we were dizzy.
　The person who listened to Hirame’s story was the old madam of kyobashi.
“Madam,” he called.
　I called her.
“Yes, what?　Did you notice?”
　Madame said as she put a smile on her face.
　I let the tears roll down my face.
“Yoshi, let me leave her.”
　The words came out unexpectedly.
　Madame sat up and let out a deep sigh.
　Then I made another gaffe that I had trouble describing as either funny or stupid.
“I’m going to a place where there are no women.
　First, Hirame laughed out loud, then Madame started to giggle, and then she herself burst into tears, blushed, and laughed.
“Yes, that’s better.
　”Yes, that’s better,” said Hirame, laughing lazily.
Yes, it’s better,” said Hirame, laughing lazily, “to go where there are no women. I don’t like it when women are around. Where there are no women is a good idea.
　Where there are no women. But this stupid idea of his was later realized in a very gruesome way.
　Yoshi seemed to think that he had taken her place and poisoned her, and she was even more shy with him than before, refusing to laugh at anything he said, and unable to speak at all. I was annoyed to be in my apartment, so I went out and drank cheap alcohol as usual. However, since the incident with Giard, my body had become much thinner, my limbs were sluggish, and I tended to neglect my manga work. This money also seemed to have come from my brothers back home. By that time, I had become able to see through Hirame’s wasteful theatrics, albeit dimly, unlike when I had run away from Hirame’s house, so I cunningly pretended not to notice and thanked her for the money in a sincere manner. (But I couldn’t help but feel strange, as if I could understand why Hirame and her friends would pull off such a complicated trick, but I didn’t.) With the money, I took the plunge and went to a hot spring in Minami-Izu by myself. I didn’t change my clothes, I didn’t bathe in the hot water, I just ran outside and jumped into a dirty teahouse and drank so much shochu that I felt sick. I drank so much shochu that it made my body feel even worse.
　It was a night of heavy snowfall in Tokyo. I was drunkenly walking along the back streets of Ginza, whispering over and over again, “Here I am, hundreds of miles away from home, here I am, hundreds of miles away from home,” and kicking off the falling snow with my toes, when I suddenly threw up. It was my first hemoptysis. A large flag of the Japanese flag was formed on the snow. I squatted for a while, then scooped up the snow that was not soiled with my hands, washed my face, and cried.
　He washed his face and cried, “Kouko, how is this narrow path?
　How is this narrow path?
　The voice of the poor child sang faintly from a distance, as if it were a hallucination. Misfortune. It would not be an exaggeration to say that there are many unhappy people in this world, or even all unhappy people, but their unhappiness can be protested openly to the world, and “the world” easily understands and sympathizes with their protests. However, since my own misfortune is caused entirely by my own guilt, I have no way to protest to anyone, and if I were to say even a single word of protest while stammering, Hirame and everyone else in the world would be astonished at how I could talk like that. I don’t know if I’m being selfish, or if I’m just too weak-minded, but it seems that I’m full of guilt, and I’m just going to get unhappier and unhappier, and there’s no concrete way to stop it.
　I stood up and went into a nearby drug store to get some kind of medicine, and when I saw the wife of the drug store, she instantly raised her head and looked at me as if she had been hit by a flash. However, there was neither astonishment nor disgust in her eyes, but almost a look of longing, as if she was seeking help. I thought to myself, “She must be an unhappy person, because unhappy people are sensitive to the unhappiness of others,” when I suddenly noticed the wife standing dangerously with her crutches. I suppressed the urge to run over to her, but as I looked at her, I began to cry. As I looked at her, I began to cry, and then tears began to flow from her large eyes as well.
　After that, without speaking a word, I left the pharmacy, staggered back to my apartment, had Yoshiko make me a salt water solution, drank it, and went to bed in silence.
“He said, “You have to stop drinking.
　We were like flesh and blood.
“I think I might be an alcoholic. I still want to drink.
“No, you must not. My husband, who is a Theban, said that alcohol kills fungus, so he got drunk and shortened his life.
“I can’t do it because I’m worried. I can’t do it. I’m scared. I can’t do it.
“I’ll give you some medicine. Don’t drink.
　His wife (a widow with a baby boy, who had entered a medical school in Chiba or somewhere else, but soon contracted the same disease as my father, and was on leave of absence from the hospital.
　This is a hematopoietic agent.
　Here’s a hematopoietic agent, here’s a solution of vitamine. This is the syringe.
　This is a calcium tablet. This is diastase to prevent gastrointestinal distress.
　What is this? She lovingly explained to me about five or six different medicines, but this unhappy wife’s love was also too deep for me. At the end, she quickly wrapped a small box in paper, saying that this was a medicine for when I really, really wanted to drink alcohol.
　It was an injection of morphine.
　His wife said it was less harmful than alcohol, and I believed her. Without hesitation, he injected the morphine into his arm. Without hesitation, I injected the morphine into my arm. My anxiety, frustration, and embarrassment were completely removed, and I became a very cheerful orator. After the injection, I forgot about the weakness in my body and devoted myself to my comic work, creating such a strange taste that I would burst into laughter while drawing.
　I would draw one comic a day, then two, then four, until I couldn’t work without them.
“Don’t do that, you’ll get addicted, you’ll be in trouble.
　When the wife of the apothecary told me this, I felt as if I had become quite an addict (I am very susceptible to suggestion). (I am very susceptible to people’s suggestion. Even if they tell me not to spend this money, when they say, “It’s you, isn’t it? The fear of addiction led him to seek out more and more medicines.
“Please!　One more box. I’m sure I’ll pay the bill at the end of the month.
“I don’t mind paying the bill at any time, but the police are always so annoying.
　Oh, there is always a hint of a murky, dark, shady person around me.
“You’ll have to fake it somehow, ma’am. I’ll give you a kiss.”
　The wife blushed.
　She blushed, and I began to take advantage.
“I can’t get any work done without my pills, you know. It’s like a stimulant for me.
“Then why don’t you get a hormone shot?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t do my job without alcohol, or else I’d have to take those pills.
“You can’t drink.
“Isn’t that right?　I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since I started using the drug. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since I started using that medicine, and my body is in very good shape because of it. I’m not going to be drawing bad comics forever, I’m going to quit drinking, fix my body, study hard, and become a great artist. Now is the important part. So, please, please, please. I’ll give you a kiss.
　His wife started laughing.
“You’re in trouble. I don’t care if you get addicted.
　”I don’t want you to get addicted,” she said, making a clacking sound with her crutches.
I can’t give you a whole box,” he said. You can’t give him a whole box, he’ll use it up. Half.”
“I can’t give you a whole box.
　I’m going to give you a shot as soon as I get home.
“Doesn’t it hurt?
　Yoshi asked himself with some trepidation.
“It hurts, yes. It hurts, but I have to do it to improve my work efficiency. I’m feeling pretty good these days, aren’t I?　Come on, let’s get to work. Work, work.”
　I was so excited.
　I once knocked on the door of an apothecary in the middle of the night. I suddenly hugged her, kissed her, and mimicked crying as she came out in her nightgown with crutches.
　She silently handed me a box.
　I had already become a complete addict when I realized that chemicals were just as, if not more, filthy than shochu. It was truly the height of shamelessness. I was so desperate to get my hands on the drug that I started copying spring paintings again, and even had a literally ugly relationship with the crippled wife of the drug store.
　I want to die, I want to die, I can’t take it back, no matter what I do, no matter what I do, I’ll only be ruined, I’ll only be adding to my shame, I can’t even hope to ride a bicycle to a waterfall with green leaves, I’ll only be adding to my miserable sins, my suffering will only increase and become more intense. I want to die, I have to die, living is the seed of sin,” he thought to himself, but all he could do was go back and forth between his apartment and the pharmacy in a half-crazed state.
　No matter how much work he did, the amount of medicine he used increased, and the amount he owed for the medicine reached a frightening amount. When his wife saw his face, tears came to her eyes, and she herself shed tears.
　Hell.
　With such determination that he was willing to bet on the existence of God, he decided to write a long letter to his father back home, confessing all of his true situation (although he could not write about the woman).
　However, the results were not good, and I waited and waited for no reply, and in my frustration and anxiety I increased the dosage of medicine.
　That afternoon, Hirame came to me with Horiki, as if she had a devilish intuition.
“I heard you had hemoptysis.
　I heard you had hemoptysis,” Horiki said, sitting on his haunches in front of him and smiling more gently than I had ever seen him smile before. I was so grateful and happy to see that kind smile that I turned my face away and shed a tear. With that one gentle smile, I was completely overwhelmed and buried.
　I was put in a car. Hirame, in a somber tone of voice (a tone so quiet that I wanted to describe it as compassionate), told me that I had to go to the hospital anyway and that they would take care of the rest. We arrived at the entrance of a large hospital in the middle of the forest after a long ride in a car, including my son Yoshi.
　I was expecting a sanatorium.
　I was examined by a young doctor who was very soft and polite, and then he said
“Well, you’re going to rest here for a while, aren’t you?
　Hirame, Horiki and Yoshiko were left alone to go home, but Yoshiko handed her a furoshiki (wrapping cloth) with some clothes to change into and then silently pulled out a syringe and some leftover medicine from between her sashes. I wondered if she had thought it was a stimulant.
“No, I don’t need it anymore.
　It was a rare thing, really. It was the only time in my entire life that I had refused to take a drug when it was offered to me. My misfortune was the misfortune of a person without the ability to refuse. I was terrified that if I were to refuse, the other person’s heart and my own would be forever cracked white and unrepairable. But at that moment, I rejected morphine quite naturally, even though I had been half-crazed in my search for it, and I wondered if I had been hit by what Yoshiko called “godlike ignorance. Wasn’t I already a non-addict at that moment?
　However, I was soon escorted by a young doctor with a sly smile to a certain ward, where I was locked up with a bang. It was a brain hospital.
　It was a brain asylum, and my silly idea of going to a place where there were no women, which I had made when I had taken the diarrhea, had been realized in a very strange way. The ward was full of male lunatics, the nurse was also a man, and there were no women.
　Now I was no longer a sinner, but a madman. No, I was not crazy at all. I had never been crazy, not even for a moment. But then again, that’s what most lunatics say about themselves. So it seems that those who are put in this hospital are crazy and those who are not are normal.
　I ask God. Is non-resistance a sin?
　I cried at the sight of Horiki’s mysterious and beautiful smile, forgot about judgment and resistance, got into a car, and was brought here to be a madman. Even if I were to leave this place now, I would still be a madman, or rather, a cripple, stamped on my forehead.
　Disqualified as a human being.
　I was no longer a human being.
　It was early summer when I came here, and I could see the red water lilies blooming in the small pond in the hospital garden through the iron lattice window. Three years later, when the cosmos began to bloom in the garden, my eldest brother from my hometown unexpectedly came to pick me up with Hirame, and told me that my father had died of a stomach ulcer at the end of last month. He told me that my father had died of a gastric ulcer at the end of last month, and that he and his family had no intention of worrying about your past or your life, and that there was nothing for them to do. Don’t worry about it.
　I felt as if I could see the mountains and rivers of my hometown in front of me, and I nodded vaguely.
　A cripple.
　After I learned that my father had died, I felt as if I had lost my mind. I felt as if the pot of my anguish had been emptied. I felt as if the pot of my anguish had been emptied. I even felt as if the reason why the pot of my anguish was so heavy was because of my father. It was as if I had lost my spirit. I even lost the ability to suffer.
　My eldest brother had done exactly what he had promised to do. He bought a house on the outskirts of the village, which had five rooms, but was so old that the walls were peeling off, the pillars had been eaten by insects, and there was almost no way to repair it. He bought a very old house with peeling walls, pillars eaten away by insects, and almost beyond repair, and gave it to him, along with an ugly, red-haired maid, who was nearly sixty years old.
　A little over three years had passed since then, and during that time I had been raped in a strange way several times by the old maid named Tetsu, and we had occasional quarrels. I didn’t pay any attention to it, and even though I took ten pills before going to bed, I didn’t feel sleepy at all, so I thought it was strange, but then I felt sick to my stomach and rushed to the lavatory. In addition, I went to the toilet three more times. When I looked at the box of medicine, I saw that it was a laxative called Henomotin.
　As I lay on my back with a hot water bottle on my stomach, I thought I would say something to Tetsu.
“This isn’t Calmotin, you know. It’s called henomotin.
　I was about to say, “This is not calmotin, it’s called henomotin. Apparently, “cripple” is a comedic noun. I took a laxative to try to sleep, and the name of the laxative was Henomotin.
　There is no happiness or unhappiness in me now.
　Just a day goes by.
　That was the only thing that seemed to be the truth in the world of so-called “human beings” that I had been living in a screaming, screaming world.
　But a day goes by.
　I will be twenty-seven years old this year. My gray hair has grown so much that most people think I am over forty.