The Choice That Day | Living Alone in Tokyo | Chibi Creative Award

My life would definitely have been different.
There are choices that make me think that.

I spent one year as a ronin studying for university entrance exams.
Around summer, when deciding which schools to apply to,
I chose one private university in my home region of Kansai and two in Tokyo.
All of them were considered highly competitive.
I narrowed it down to those three schools and had no safety schools.
I decided that if I failed, I would just get a job.

The result was that I was accepted by one school in Kansai and one in Tokyo.
That was when the choice arose.

My mother said, "Isn't it fine to stay here in Kansai?"
Two of my friends from junior high were also attending school there,
and since it is safe and secure in many ways to be near my parents,
I think that was a natural sentiment for a mother to have.

My father recommended the university in Tokyo.
He said, "Since you managed to get into such a good university, you should go there."
I think my father had a picture-perfect path in his mind:
graduate from a good university, join a good company,
and live a stable and happy life forever.
This is also a very normal perspective for a father to have.

As for me,
I never really thought I would get into the Tokyo university.
I had worked so hard that I just wanted to make some memories and test my strength,
but then, "Wait! I passed?"
Suddenly, a choice appeared. Honestly, that was how it felt.

In a situation that felt like a family meeting,
the longing to live alone in Tokyo suddenly became a reality
and began to grow within me.

If I had gone to the local university, my life wouldn't have been so chaotic,
I would have spent four years just drifting with my friends who were also in my band,
gotten a job at a local financial institution or trading company,
and married a classmate or a coworker... I still imagine that kind of life.

Living alone in Tokyo was a technicolor freedom.
And the restraints came off.

My original interest in art also exploded.
I went to art exhibitions by masters held from time to time,
standing motionless in front of eye-opening paintings and sculptures.

At the Nippon Budokan, I was intoxicated by the performances
of the world's top artists that I would never be able to hear again.

I read books by Indian sages,
traveled back in time by looking at photos in the hall,
and fell under the illusion that I had actually met them.

And I wrote songs, pretended to be Bob Dylan,
and sang on the streets of Shibuya and in pubs in Yokohama.

At the time, these were things
that could only be experienced in Tokyo,
and I was completely immersed in them.

I was 100% myself.
I had no goals or plans.
I just lived as I wanted to live.
A young man living in Shibuya, Tokyo.
That was all I was.

In the end, I dropped out of university and spent five years, including the time after that,
living that kind of life.

My mother's concerns were proven perfectly right,
I betrayed my father's expectations,
and it was a life that made people question me socially and as a person, but

these five intense years
built the foundation of who I am.
Of that, there is no doubt.

It lies in that choice I made when I was 19.

Life is a mysterious thing.
Having made it this far, somehow or other, for 67 years,
there is no such thing as right or wrong.

In a word, I don't know.
And I think that is fine.

However, choices do arise.

I am participating in the Chibi Creative Award.

I wrote this for VOID_404's theme, "The Choice That Day."

Chibi Creative Award Collaborative Magazine

Thank you.