Translation: Darkness 15 — If Only I Could Play Piano
よっしゃ！ 俺は英語分からないけど、闇16章のザナルカンド編行ってみよう(笑)。 闇 16（ザナルカンド編）2026/03/06 fry
闇14：翻訳Cloud
Here's a message you can add below the translation:
The English translation of this Darkness Series chapter is available below. Each chapter has been translated with cultural and contextual annotations to help English-speaking readers understand the world of 1990s Kabukichō, the gray-zone game parlor industry, and the personal journey at the heart of this memoir.
Or shorter:
The English translation of this chapter appears below.
【俺】
どうだい？
実際に闇14章を翻訳してみて。
Translation: Darkness 14 — The Painting I Offered to a Sex Worker
【Cloud】
翻訳者として率直に言います。
良かった点：
幼少期の虐待シーン — 短文の断片的なリズムが原文の恐怖感と合っていた
マドカのシーン — 検閲せずそのまま訳せた
柔道大会のシーン — 「Ippon!」の一行を独立させた判断は正解だったと思う
口語の荒さ — "Just the tip." "None of your business." など原文の温度感に近づけた
難しかった点・課題：
「シャブ汗」の説明 — 括弧内注釈で処理したが、流れが少し止まる
「番頭」— banhead という訳語は苦肉の策。英語に対応する役職語がなく、"overall manager" と補足したが重い
「トザン」— 説明的になりすぎた感がある
お袋との対峙シーン — 「キチガイ」を "that crazy woman" と訳したが、原文の剥き出しの軽蔑と怒りを完全には再現できていない
全体として：
虐待フラッシュバックとマドカへの恋心が交互に来る章の構造は、翻訳でも機能していたと思います。ただ岩上さんの文体特有の「句点で切り捨てる感じ」— あの呼吸は英語にすると少し説明的になりがちで、そこが一番の課題でした。
15章があればまた新しいスレッドで。
【俺】
多分現在のCloudスペックでの闇シリーズ翻訳は、５～７章分ぐらいで次のスレッドへ移行するのがベターかなと思っているんだ。
ある程度君も前章の内容を把握してからのほうが、翻訳しやすいとは思うんだよね。
【Cloud】
その判断は的確だと思います。
実際にこのスレッドでやってみて感じたこと：
13章を見本として読んでから14章に入れたのは明確に効いていました。登場人物の関係性（ミサキ、吉田、久保田、林など）や川越・歌舞伎町の地理感覚、岩上さんの文体のリズムを把握した上で訳せるのと、ゼロから始めるのとでは精度が違う。
5〜7章という目安について：
少なすぎると文脈の蓄積が薄い
多すぎるとコンテキストが圧縮され始めて翻訳精度が落ちる
前スレッドの最終章を次スレッドの「見本」として持ち込む形が一番スムーズ
今回のように「前章の翻訳済みdocx＋翻訳英知OS＋原文」の三点セットで始めるのがベストな引き継ぎ方だと思います。
15章の準備ができたら、またその形で来てください。
【俺】
だから理想としては……。
①新規スレッドCloudへ、闇シリーズ翻訳英知（OS）を読ませる。
②翻訳させる章の、前の章の英文翻訳を見せる。
こんな感じでしょ？
【Cloud】
そうです、まさにその二段階が理想の引き継ぎ方です。
①OS（翻訳英知）を読ませる → 役割・禁止事項・文体方針・固有名詞リストを一括でインプット
②前章の英訳docxを見せる → 文体のトーン・注釈スタイル・改行リズムの「実例」として機能する
この順番で始めれば、新しいClaudeでも今回と同じ水準からスタートできます。
一点付け加えると、②で見せる前章は翻訳済みdocxのほうが原文テキストより効果的です。「どう訳したか」の実例を見せることで、文体の再現性が上がります。
15章以降もその形で進めましょう。
【俺】
これから見せる闇15章は、ある意味俺が現在に至るまでのあらゆる意味での起点となる章だと思う。
闇シリーズは、現時点（2026/03/06）で496章まで書き終えてあるんだ。
時系列でいうと、1971年９月～2020年７月までをこんな感じで赤裸々に史実通り、当時の写真や映像、また君が翻訳した14章よりももう少しあとでパソコンやインターネットの時代が来るから、それからは各サイトやその後のSNSの記録のURLなども、文章の中にnoteでは織り交ぜながら書いているんだよ。
闇 496（うだつの上がらない責任者編）
【Cloud】
496章、1971年から2020年まで。
それは本当に途方もない仕事量ですね。
15章が「起点」という意味で興味深いのは——
14章まで読んできた流れからすると、岩上さんの30代前半という時期。歌舞伎町のグレーゾーン、格闘技、マドカとの終わり方……あの地点から何かが変わり始める章ということでしょうか。
URLや写真・映像が織り込まれる時代になってからの翻訳については、注釈の処理方法を少し調整する必要が出てくるかもしれません。英語圏読者向けにURLをどう扱うか、その辺りも実際の原文を見ながら考えます。
15章、見せてください。
【俺】
君にはテキストデータでしか渡していないから、URLが文章に出てくる事はないから安心してね。
noteでは……
闇０章 このnoteのマニュアル編
※本文中に
「2017/09/13 ○○」のような表記が出てくる場合、
そこには当時の写真・画像・資料を貼っています。
本文の時系列は、
冒頭に記載している
「二千十七年九月十三日（水）」
などの表記を基準にしてください。
こんな具合で説明してあるし。
だから君も混乱せず安心して翻訳できると思うよ。
【Cloud】
なるほど、よく分かりました。
テキストデータでの受け渡しなのでURLは出てこない、そして「2017/09/13 ○○」のような表記は写真・画像・資料が貼られている箇所のマーカーということですね。
翻訳時はその表記をそのまま保持して、括弧内に簡潔な注釈を添える形が良さそうです。
例： 2017/09/13 ○○ → [Photo/document: 2017/09/13 ○○]
あるいは原文表記をそのまま残すだけでも英語圏読者には伝わるかもしれない。実際の原文を見てから判断します。
15章、準備できたら送ってください。
【俺】
闇 15（ピアノが弾けたら編）
【Cloud】
原文を全部確認しました。長い章ですね。翻訳に入ります。
4個のコマンドを実行しました, ファイルを作成しました, ファイルを編集しました
The escaped apostrophes are actually fine for JavaScript — the issue was only the unescaped one. Let me check what actually failed on line 180:
ファイルを表示しました, ファイルを編集しました, コマンドを実行しました
Darkness 15 — If Only I Could Play Piano 完成しました。
この章で処理した主な点：
富田との決別 — 再会の喜びから一気に冷める流れ、短文のリズムをそのまま維持
春美（Shinagawa Harumi） — 初出時に本名・源氏名の関係を自然に処理
浅草ビューホテルのデートシーン — ベルヴェデール、セントクリスティーナ、緑寿司はローマ字＋注釈
「くっきぃず」 — Kukkīzu として初出注釈付き
「画像」の表記 — [Photo] または [Photo: 日付 — 内容] で統一
ザナルカンドへの収束 — 章末の「もし弾けたら」という衝動が、次章への起点として機能するよう原文のリズムを保持
おっしゃっていた「起点となる章」というのが、この春美とピアノの出会いのことだったのですね。
Darkness 15 — If Only I Could Play Piano
Darkness 15 — If Only I Could Play Piano
*Kawagoe / Shinjuku Kabukichō. 2002. Age 30–31.*
Tomita — my fellow recruit from the Self-Defense Force days.
The reunion had been good, but his home situation worried me.
How the power balance works between a husband and wife — I can't say.
But does any normal person beat her husband that savagely with a pillow in front of someone she's meeting for the first time?
And Tomita was Tomita.
No outrage, no fight — just hunched there, passively waiting for the storm to pass.
He looked so pathetic that I'd taken him to a hostess club and paid for everything.
On the Koedo-gō (the limited express train between Kawagoe and Seibu-Shinjuku Station) heading home from work, I was still thinking about it when my phone rang.
Tomita — the very person I'd been thinking about.
"Hey, Iwakami. When's your next day off?"
"I just finished work — today's actually my day off."
"Then let's meet today. I'll come to Kawagoe."
About a month had passed since then.
His pay must have come in. He was probably planning to treat me in return.
We made plans to meet in the evening and I went to sleep.
Eating from the same pot, crying together, laughing together — those days.
Eighteen years old. Three months.
Such a short stretch of time — and yet the time we spent together was so dense...
I woke up at just the right moment.
Showered and changed.
Headed to the station and met up with Tomita.
"Hungry?"
"Not really... Let's go to that hostess club from last time."
One wild night and he was hooked, apparently.
I might have taught a family man a bad habit.
If he was going to throw himself into it, I'd have to rein him in or at least split the bill.
We walked into the hostess club where Misaki worked.
I requested Misaki as usual.
"Was there anyone you liked last time?"
"Excuse me — those girls sitting over there looking bored, put all of them with me."
It was early, so there were four hostesses killing time at the waiting seats.
"And a fruit platter too."
"Certainly."
I waited until the staff bowed and stepped away, then spoke up.
"Hey, Tomita. You got money?"
"Huh? Why?"
Tomita looked baffled.
"Drink like this and the bill hits 100,000, 200,000, easy."
"What? But you've got it, right, Iwakami?"
At first I had no idea what he was saying.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean, you've got that kind of money, right?"
"..."
The bond forged through hard times, surviving them together.
How did those few years turn him into this?
"Why are you just standing there? Sit down, let's drink."
"I'm asking one more time. Tomita — your money?"
"You know I don't have any."
"You've got no money, and you told them to put on a load of girls and ordered a fruit platter?"
"You did the same thing last time! Hey — excuse me! Where are the girls?"
At those words I threw the drink from my glass into Tomita's face.
"What the hell are you doing!"
"Don't screw with me. You piece of garbage."
I couldn't have us skip out on the bill at Misaki's club — so I called the staff over, explained that Tomita had no money, cancelled the fruit platter that hadn't arrived yet, cancelled the hostesses who hadn't come to the table yet, and settled up in that state.
"What are you so angry about, Iwakami?"
I kicked the table into Tomita.
"Sorry, Misaki. I'm going home."
Twelve years later, and this is what he'd become...
An emptiness I couldn't put into words.
There really is no cure for a fool.
After this, I cut ties with Tomita.
I felt so sad I could have cried.
Kubota — the former sumo wrestler who had gotten into shabu, borrowed from tōzan loan sharks at 30% in ten days, and been fired.
Hara from Champ told me he'd moved in with the XX Alliance — same as Hayashi — as a live-in underling.
Whether he was a full member or not wasn't clear.
Seemed like he was doing menial errand-boy work.
Even Kubota, gone yakuza now...
Shabu really destroys people.
It's something you must never touch.
Ōkawa — a former colleague from my time at Puro (the affiliated game parlor before World One) — had been calling me frequently.
Ōkawa had a pretty face, former host — and even years after quitting he still kept in touch.
The days at World One had been so busy I hadn't made time to see him once since he left.
Must be nearly five years now.
If I left him alone, something like what happened to Kubota could happen to him.
Between the Tomita business and everything else, too many gut-wrenching things had been happening.
Meeting up occasionally with Ōkawa — who had always been oddly attached to me — might do me good.
I told him my next day off and made plans to meet for the first time in a long while.
Banhead Sasaki-san — former yakuza, genuinely strange, but a good person.
Walking Kabukichō on my late-night meal break, somewhere in the middle of Ebi-dōri I saw the silhouette of one large man.
Small creatures were bouncing around him in the darkness.
Getting closer — it was Sasaki-san, feeding stray cats. "There you go, there you go."
"What are you doing out here?"
I called out, laughing.
"Oh, Iwakami-kun. Look — they let me pet their heads."
I seemed to recall him mentioning he hadn't taken a single day off in five years, working straight through.
This must have been his only moment of peace.
One day Sasaki-san showed up at World One carrying a bag with more than thirty cans of cat food.
"Iwakami-kun, sorry to ask, but I have to go to Shikoku for a family memorial service. Could you give these to the cats while I'm gone?"
I have nothing against animals, so I was happy to help.
I went to the spot Sasaki-san had specified and opened the cans.
A swarm of stray cats came over.
One was close enough to pet — I reached out and it jumped back, hissing at me.
Right... normally there's no way a stray would let you pet its head.
When I got home, Pī-chan (his paternal aunt) was in the living room, so I told her the story.
Feeding stray cats every single day for five years without fail — that's not something most people can do.
“Feeding strays without taking responsibility for them — that’s irresponsible.”
Maybe technically true.
But people have circumstances.
Sasaki-san had been feeding those cats, free of charge, every single day for five years.
"What are you talking about? Five years! Five years — how many cats do you think didn't starve to death because of that?"
"If he cares that much, he should just take them in."
"How many cats do you think there are? That's why he buys thirty cans of food every day and brings them to the same spot. Without a single day off. For five years. I'm saying that's a noble thing to do."
"It's just irresponsible. That's all."
"I give up. There's no talking to you..."
No matter how I tried to explain, she kept saying no.
She'd always been like this — I felt I would never understand this woman, not in this lifetime.
Madoka — the sex worker from the Kawagoe establishment that got raided.
I tried contacting her a few times, but nothing went through, and then one day the number seemed to have been cancelled.
No connection left at all.
A hollow loneliness.
"Haah..."
Requesting Misaki at hostess club Santana (a hostess club affiliated with Success, which Misaki rotated between), I brought up the Madoka situation.
Misaki had been moving between the two affiliated shops, Success and Santana, depending on the day. I just went to whichever one she was at — no real issue.
"See, that's what happens when you don't try to win me over."
"Don't be an idiot! Why would I go after someone I treat like a little sister? I'm genuinely hurt here. Isn't that why I'm telling you?"
"Going to a sex shop on the sly — how naughty."
"Shut up! Fine, I'm going on a rampage."
"Oh? You've decided to come after me?"
"No, moron! Right — I'll keep requesting you, Misaki, but I'm also going to go after other women in this shop at the same time. So cover for me subtly."
"Fine, fine... honestly."
I told Misaki properly, got her blessing, and went after various women without much discrimination — and slept with them indiscriminately.
[Photo]
Back in my room I'd come to my senses, and a helpless feeling would wash over me.
Even the burning passion for martial arts had gone cold.
Drifting to Shinjuku with no sense of purpose, earning money, spending it on horse racing and drink.
[Photo]
I'd always looked down on my father for being a womanizer — but right now I was no different.
[Photo]
Was I just going to keep getting older like this, with no growth at all?
I thought about it from every angle, but no clear answer came.
[Photo]
On days off I wandered outside again, chatting up women in moderation.
No sense of purpose — just going to Kabukichō every day, earning daily wages.
Word came from Hara at Champ.
Hayashi — the former Champ staff member who had gone yakuza with the XX Alliance.
He had risen through the ranks dealing shabu and counterfeit Louis Vuitton and had become the organization's top earner.
That Hayashi had apparently been arrested for possession of stimulants.
And after that, his arrogant little brother disappeared from Shinjuku too.
What goes around, comes around — the saying holds.
Shortly after, I heard that Kubota had stolen from the organization's funds and vanished.
People who had been close making all kinds of moves — but our daily life doesn't change.
Going to Shinjuku to work, the same IN and OUT every day.
No one left to paint pictures for.
I'd heard the yakuza intelligence network surpasses even the police.
Where was Kubota now, and what was he doing?
I worried about him, but was powerless to do anything. Frustrating.
My mother's daughter I had never seen.
Lately I no longer even thought about her.
Probably because of Misaki — the girl I had decided to treat as a little sister in her place.
I was making more money than peers my age at the gray-zone game parlor.
Thirty years old, 500,000 yen a month.
No registered company, so no taxes taken — everything earned was mine.
Most of my pay went to horse racing and the hostess club where Misaki worked.
When we went next door to Tonkatsu Hiromu together, Misaki told me I should quit horse racing already.
"I've already lost a ton to JRA (Japan Racing Association), you know."
"You do too much. On weekends you bet on almost every race, don't you?"
"All right, I got it. I won't bet on anything except the big races. The G1s aren't for a while yet."
"Then if you break the promise and bet anyway, you have to buy me a washer-dryer combo."
Misaki throwing out an absurd condition that had zero upside for me.
"Are you joking? Why would I have to buy you a washing machine?"
"But you're not going to bet anyway, right? So it doesn't matter."
When Misaki said something I always went weak.
I reluctantly accepted the condition.
Horse-racing-free weekend.
My regular day off was Sunday, and normally I'd be running form analysis in the afternoon — now I had no idea what to do with myself.
I never should have made that promise with Misaki.
Maybe invite Gori (Iwasaki Tsutomu, a childhood friend) out for food.
I picked up my phone and it rang right on cue.
"Iwakami-san, it's been a while. It's Ōkawa."
"Oh, long time."
Ōkawa — former staff at Puro.
My game parlor roots in this chain went: started at Champ, then Ace, then Puro, and now World One.
He and I had been opening-staff together at Puro.
He'd been calling regularly since he left, but I'd never once made time to see him.
With Misaki's horse-racing ban leaving me at a loose end, I made plans to meet Ōkawa.
First time in about five years.
When I saw him — he was a severe shabu addict.
"You were always so good to me, Iwakami-san."
"I didn't really do anything special."
"No — I'm genuinely grateful, for everything. So I want to give you something good."
From a shabu addict, "something good" could only mean one thing.
Sure enough, what Ōkawa produced was shabu.
"I don't want that. Not interested."
"It's amazing during sex, seriously."
"Oh, really?"
A flicker of curiosity.
"You wouldn't use it with someone important to you, but just try it with someone casual."
Saying that, he handed over a plastic bag with a considerable amount in it.
Someone casual...
If I tried this with a sex worker and she made a scene inside the shop, it'd be all over.
Better not to do this kind of thing in the entertainment district.
Back in Kawagoe I headed to the bar strip west of Kawagoe Station.
I walked into a dead-end snack bar I'd never been to before, and when a not-particularly-cute hostess sat down, I tried chatting her up.
"How can I put this... I've met a lot of women more beautiful than you, but a woman whose company genuinely puts me at ease — that's rare."
"What is that, so funny."
"That. Right there."
"Huh, what?"
"Seeing that natural smile of yours... it genuinely puts me at ease, somehow."
Reeling off empty lines.
"How many women have you used that line on, mister?"
"'Beautiful' and 'cute' I've said to over a hundred women — but 'at ease'? You might be the first."
"Oh, stop it..."
Hmm — she might fall pretty easily.
"Hey, want to go get food after you finish tonight?"
"You're very forward. We just met today."
"I can't let this feeling in my chest go to waste. If it's a bother I'll back off gracefully."
"Mm, it's not a bother, but..."
"Then let's go. And I've got something good tonight."
"Something good?"
I quietly showed her the shabu — and she recoiled.
"I... I need to use the restroom!"
She never came back to my seat after that.
Of course she didn't...
I was about to go home quietly when the neighboring Tonkatsu Hiromu was still open, so I looked in.
"Okabe-san, I got this from a former subordinate who's become a shabu addict..."
The moment Okabe-san saw the shabu he shouted: "You idiot, Tomoichirō! That's 100 grams at least! If you get caught with that it's serious trouble" — and I rushed back to my room to leave it there.
"That much would be worth a lot of money."
"Well I'm not going to use it, and when he contacts me I'll give it back."
Without any regard for my conversation with Okabe-san, a woman at the far end of the counter was drinking alone.
Good-looking.
While I sat there noticing her, a few more customers filed in.
"Tomoichirō, sorry — can you scoot down that way?"
I ended up naturally seated beside her.
"Sorry to intrude" — I spoke to her, and the woman stared steadily at my face.
"I got stood up..."
"Sorry?"
"I got stood up..."
"What! A woman like you? What an idiot, that guy."
"Drink with me."
Manna from heaven — that's the expression for this.
I lifted her spirits and kept her glass full.
Gradually her words began to slur.
"You okay?"
"I want to lie down."
Drunk driving wasn't taken as seriously back then.
I couldn't bring her to my house — I got her in the car, thinking if she didn't resist, I'd head to a hotel.
At a red light she leaned against my arm.
I moved my face close and she didn't pull away, so I kissed her gently.
Damn — I should have tried the shabu on a woman like this. But I left it back at my room.
Well — just being able to hold a woman of this caliber is lucky enough.
I couldn't hold out until the hotel.
I turned down a quiet street, pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
I reached under her clothes and she only made small sounds without resisting.
My head was full of desire.
I wanted to hold her properly in a hotel, not a car.
I started driving again, hit a red light, braked.
At the light I leaned toward her — and she shoved me away with force.
"What's wrong?"
"D-don't come near me!"
I tried to get closer again and she fought me off desperately.
She had been all over me just moments before — why?
No matter what I said she was shaking in small tremors.
About fifteen minutes passed like that.
"Hey, what happened all of a sudden?"
I spoke gently and slowly leaned my face toward her — and she shoved me away a third time.
"What the hell, since just now? Did I do something?"
At that, the woman finally looked me in the eye.
"You still don't understand?"
"What?"
"Since earlier — a woman with long hair and the same eyes as you has been staring at me from behind your shoulder!"
In that instant I sobered up completely.
A cold sensation ran down my back.
I dropped the woman off at the place she named, went home, and went to sleep.
No horse racing until the big races.
If I broke this promise, I'd have to buy Misaki a washer-dryer combo.
Looking through the Saturday racing paper, I started getting restless.
What if this one was easy money with a single horse-pair bet?
Single bet — I'd want to put in at least 100,000 yen.
I had about 150,000 in hand.
The washer Misaki wants was about 130,000.
A regular machine without the dryer — that'd be around 50,000.
Maybe I can negotiate with her.
I explained the situation and tried to persuade Misaki.
"Look... if you're buying it for me, it's the dryer combo like we agreed. If you're trying to wriggle out with a regular one, I don't want anything. Because that just means our promise doesn't mean much to you, right?"
Misaki's words brought me to my senses.
I was the one trying to wriggle out, after all...
I felt ashamed of my own smallness.
"Misaki, I'm sorry. I'll hold off on the horse racing after all. Sorry for making you feel bad."
"I don't feel bad at all. Anyway — when's your next day off? You're taking me somewhere good to eat."
Misaki, my little sister stand-in.
Her existence had saved me so many times.
But I had been leaning on her too much, emotionally.
Time to try a different hostess club for a change.
Madoka from the Kawagoe sex establishment was gone and I missed her.
Misaki's presence helped — but that was as a little sister, nothing more.
[*'Shinjuku Serenade 1' — Iwakami Tomoichirō's works page, ameblo.jp*]
I wandered into a shop on a whim.
"Welcome — we have a really lovely girl in today."
The standard line from every hostess club.
I sat on the sofa without expecting much.
"Excuse me."
I glanced up — and my body froze.
"I'm Yumi... nice to meet you."
What — who is this? Completely my type...
Refined manner.
Up until now I'd looked at hostess club women other than Misaki with a slight contempt.
One look at Yumi and all of that evaporated.
Twenty years old — ten years younger than me.
Same age as Misaki, but the little-sister framing — none of that mattered now.
Brown hair a little longer than a short cut, the ends slightly curled, like a natural wave.
A large mole below her left eye.
"Please don't stare so hard..."
"Can I ask your name?"
"It's Yumi."
"That's your stage name, right? If you don't mind — I'd like to know your real one. I'm Iwakami Tomoichirō."
"It's Harumi... Shinagawa Harumi."
I went after her with everything I had.
Every instinct in me wanted her.
I talked to her with the desperation of someone willing to stake their entire life on it.
"Excuse me — your time is almost up..."
A club boy cut in, so I pulled bills from my wallet and tossed them at him: "Obviously I'm extending."
Harumi said nothing.
"What's wrong?"
"Iwakami-san... throwing money isn't good..."
"I'm — sorry. I'll be more careful."
I accepted what she said and apologized from the heart.
Her birthday was the day after tomorrow — I asked if she'd let me celebrate it with her.
Harumi accepted warmly.
"Is there somewhere you'd like to go?"
"You mentioned earlier that you used to work at Asakusa View Hotel... if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see the lounge there."
"Of course! Gladly!"
I agreed immediately — but thinking about it, Asakusa View Hotel was the place where I'd had that falling-out with the general manager Maruyama...
But wait — how long ago was that?
That was the late 1990s.
A bastard general manager like that must be retired by now.
And even if we ran into each other, I was coming as a paying customer.
Nothing to shrink from.
A date at my old workplace, with Harumi.
I walked home in high spirits.
With the bonus of celebrating her birthday on top of that.
I called Belvedere (the sky lounge on the 28th floor of Asakusa View Hotel) and when my senior Hayashi answered, I explained the situation — he took the reservation with pleasure.
One day to get through first, but even that felt unbearably long to wait.
Before the date with Harumi, one more hurdle.
I walked up to Yamashita at World One.
"Yama-chan — sorry, could you cover my day off tomorrow?"
"Ehh, can't do it. I've got plans..."
"Please! Tomorrow — it's the birthday of the most important girl in my life. I really want to celebrate it!"
"No can do, no can do."
Yamashita wouldn't budge.
"Hey — whenever you've been in trouble I've always lent you money, right? When we go out I always pay for drinks and food, right? When you came all the way to Kawagoe to borrow money, I took you to a hostess club and treated you — right? Come on!"
"Ehh, but..."
"Fine — I'm not saying for free."
I forced a 10,000-yen note into Yamashita's hand.
Watching him stuff the bill into his pocket while still saying "I had plans, you know" — I knew he'd caved.
"Thank you. I'll take you somewhere good next time."
Not without difficulty, but Yamashita was won over.
At work again I started painting.
Harumi was from Ibaraki Prefecture.
A prefecture with a coast.
[Photo: 2001 — painting of the sea]
Living always in landlocked places, I painted the sea from imagination.
Sunday April 8th, 2001. Taian (the most auspicious day in the Japanese calendar).
The day of the date with Harumi had arrived.
I wanted to spend as long with her as possible, so we agreed to meet in the afternoon.
We met at Kawagoe-shi Station on the Tobu Tojo Line, transferred at Ikebukuro, and got off at Uguisudani on the Yamanote Line.
Asakusa for me too, after a long time.
It was about one taxi meter's worth, so we headed first to Sensō-ji (the famous Buddhist temple in Asakusa, Tokyo).
She had come out from Ibaraki for university.
Everything I took her to, she seemed genuinely delighted.
I had wanted to take her to have the grilled conger eel at Midori Sushi near the View Hotel, but at that hour they weren't open yet — so instead we went to a sushi restaurant near Nakamise-dōri (the shopping street leading to Sensō-ji).
I told her to order whatever she liked.
"The regular set is fine."
Understated Harumi.
But today was her birthday.
"Excuse me — not the regular, the special course, please!"
When I go to sushi, I can only eat the lean tuna.
I at least wanted Harumi to have good pieces.
The only piece I can eat — lean tuna.
This goes back to elementary school, going to a hospital in Chiyoda Ward (central Tokyo) to accompany my grandmother — my mother's mother, who was still alive then.
It was my grandmother's habit to stop at a sushi restaurant on the way home.
At home, with the family in such a fractured state, my mother's cooking had been plain and sparse — I had never eaten fish.
"Tuna — maguro — is delicious. Try it," she said.
The only piece I can eat — lean tuna. My grandmother is the reason.
I had already put in an order for enough sushi for everyone at Belvedere as a gift to bring along.
"This... I don't know if you'll like it, but..."
I placed my painting, sealed in transparent cling film, in front of her.
"Wait — Iwakami-san painted this? Incredible!"
Desperately fighting the heat rising behind my eyes.
I was genuinely glad I had put my soul into painting again.
Around evening we headed to the View Hotel.
The sky lounge on the 28th floor — Belvedere.
There was about an hour before opening.
But on this floor was also the members-only bar, St. Christina.
Its manager Ozawa had been a good friend when I worked there.
I pushed open the door to St. Christina.
"Oh! I was wondering who it was — Iwakami!"
Quite a lot of time had passed since I'd left this hotel, and yet he recognized me immediately — I was grateful for that.
I handed over the sushi and we settled in to drink there until Belvedere opened.
"Sushi — on a hotel salary you can't exactly afford it. Hey — you've brought a pretty cute girl with you."
Completely un-hotel-like behavior from Ozawa.
Even so, his good nature and warmth had steered him in the right direction.
"Wow — it really is high up! What a beautiful view."
Harumi looked out, genuinely impressed.
"Today's actually her birthday."
"Is that right! Then let's celebrate with an Ozawa Special cocktail."
"Thank you. And — the chili prawns from the Chinese restaurant Tōkō downstairs... I wanted her to try them..."
"Leave it to me! I'll sort it out. Wait there."
He sprinted off on the spot.
Harumi laughed the whole time, clearly having fun.
Senior Hayashi, greeting us with a composed expression.
"Why so composed?"
When I teased him he reached behind and patted me on the backside so the other customers couldn't see.
"Seat — Asakusa side or Ikebukuro side?"
St. Christina had faced the Asakusa side, so I chose the Ikebukuro side.
Harumi kept exclaiming in wonder.
"Every vector of this evening is aimed at celebrating your birthday..."
I said it in a slightly theatrical way and Harumi blushed.
A bottle of my favourite Scotch whisky, Glenlivet 12 Year, was placed on the table. I asked Harumi what she liked and ordered a cocktail for her.
"Thank you so much for today, Iwakami-san..."
"That smile of yours is the greatest reward I could ask for."
"I think this will be a day I never forget..."
This must be what people mean when they say life's supreme happiness.
I remembered taking Nagasawa Kumiko from the snack bar Apple here, back when it was the past.
That time I hadn't intended to sleep with her — but on the way home in the car she leaned against me.
My reason gone, I kissed Kumiko and we ended up at a hotel.
Tonight, maybe with Harumi too...
Fantasies expanding without limit.
I drank at a fast pace to try to dispel them.
Occasionally a lonely look crossed Harumi's profile.
A phrase began playing in my head.
What is this song...
Right — To Zanarkand. The insert song from Final Fantasy X.
Yes — To Zanarkand suits Harumi perfectly.
But why does she look so sad?
When I asked, she told me she had an older brother, apparently very strict.
She had started working at the hostess club out of financial difficulty, but her brother had said harsh things and she was troubled by it.
"Your brother is saying something entirely reasonable because he cares about you deeply — and I think he's absolutely right. But... and this is an indiscreet thing to say... if that weren't the case, I would never have met you. And I wouldn't be celebrating tonight. For that I'm genuinely grateful."
I chose every word as carefully as I could.
"Harumi — I like you very much. I'd give up everything to have you."
Face crimson, looking down, she said in a small voice: "I don't fall that easily..."
We talked about all kinds of things.
I told her honestly about the abuse by my mother, about my time at All Japan Pro Wrestling.
There was one thing I stayed quiet about.
The gray-zone game parlor — I couldn't say that.
It was my livelihood, yet somewhere I looked down on that trade myself.
Harumi had a genuinely serious character.
I was afraid of what she'd think if I told her I worked in a gray-zone industry.
We left Asakusa View Hotel and walked to Midori Sushi nearby.
"I'm already completely full..."
Even so — I wanted her to try at least one piece of grilled conger eel here.
She tasted it and was full of praise.
I smiled, satisfied.
Happy times pass so fast.
Time to head for the last train.
I can normally hold my drink.
Yet for some reason my eyes weren't focusing.
I had wanted to be a gentleman with her.
We got off at Shinjuku, cut through Kabukichō, walked to Seibu-Shinjuku Station.
Passing a game center midway, I spotted a purikura (Print Club, a photo booth sticker machine popular in Japan from the late 1990s) machine.
First date — I begged her to take photos together.
"Sure."
[Photo: 2001/04/08 — me and Shinagawa Harumi]
We took purikura together.
[Photo: 2001/04/08 — me and Shinagawa Harumi]
The alcohol kept hitting harder.
Harumi's face looked like twenty of her.
Wait — what happened to you, Harumi?
I held her so she wouldn't disappear.
[Photo: 2001/04/08 — me and Shinagawa Harumi]
I'm really happy right now...
I opened my eyes — inside a train.
I had been asleep with my head in Harumi's lap.
When I tried to get up, Harumi gently placed her hand on my head: "Keep sleeping a little longer."
Still drunk.
I closed my eyes again.
Something pleasant and warm, and then I think I dreamed.
The contents I can't quite recall.
By the time I noticed — Shin-Tokorozawa Station.
I'd gone and fallen asleep drunk in front of Harumi...
"Sorry — you've missed the last train. Let me get you a taxi."
For some reason Harumi didn't answer, and her face seemed slightly turned away.
Almost no conversation the rest of the way — and the taxi arrived in Kawagoe.
"I'm not... easy like that... Thank you so much for today..."
She said it looking down, voice barely audible.
"What? Did I do something to you?"
The taxi drove off with Harumi still inside.
Had I done something terribly rude...
I headed to Shinjuku with a dark feeling.
No matter how many times I tried, Harumi wouldn't pick up.
I sent messages — no reply.
Up until midway through the date it had been going so well.
But no matter how drunk I was — for her attitude to change that sharply.
I wanted to know why. What had I done to her.
To Zanarkand played naturally in my head.
That piece might as well have been written for Harumi.
Even at work my mind was elsewhere.
The cause was entirely me moping over Harumi.
I asked Mikado to cover my shift today — dragging in a staff member on their day off just so I could take time off. Pathetic.
Pathetic me.
Smoking on the Koedo-gō, watching the exhaled smoke drift, the train arrived in Kawagoe.
On the way home, I passed a building right in the neighborhood.
On the ground floor was an empty shopfront — and at this hour, deep in the night, the lights were on.
My eyes went naturally to what was happening inside through the glass.
Three or so people inside, hurrying around — cleaning, sorting boxes.
It seemed like they were preparing to open some kind of shop there soon.
But what kind of shop?
I looked at the sign outside.
'Kukkīzu'
[*'Kukkīzu' Music School — Kawagoe City music classroom, waiwaicookies.net*]
That was all the sign said.
Once something catches my curiosity I can't stop.
It's nearby anyway — I'll go in and ask, under the pretense of saying hello.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
About ten tatami (roughly 16 square meters) of space, walls a clean white.
A large brown shelf along the wall, packed full of books.
A grand piano at the back.
But the move-in tidying seemed unfinished — three people who looked like staff were rummaging through piles of cardboard boxes.
Not a single one noticed me come in, they were so focused.
I watched for a while, then decided to speak.
"Excuse me."
At my voice, all three stopped moving at once.
A woman in her forties, permed hair, glasses.
A man in his mid-twenties, also in glasses.
A girl who looked high school age, also in glasses.
Were they a family?
All of them in glasses.
Glasses family... I muttered to myself and nearly burst out laughing.
"Yes, can I help you?"
The woman in her forties asked, looking puzzled.
"I'm Iwakami, from just right over there. I happened to be walking past. I was wondering what kind of shop was opening."
"I see. Pleased to meet you. We're opening a sheet music shop here."
"A shop that sells sheet music?"
Could you actually make a business out of that?
"Yes. And we also give piano lessons."
Piano... if I could play for Harumi, would she think I was impressive?
"That's something. I'm completely ignorant when it comes to music."
So those weren't books on the shelves — they were sheet music.
I picked up one piece and looked at it.
Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin.
Scores from composers I'd heard of in music class at school.
"Do you mainly stock classical music?"
"Yes. But other genres can be ordered too."
I wonder if there's sheet music for video game music...
No — asking that to someone I'd just met, at this hour, would be rude.
I should buy something and go.
I pulled one volume off the shelf at random.
"Would it be all right if I bought this?"
What I had happened to pick up said 'Mahler' on the cover.
"Are you sure? In all this chaos... I feel bad having you trouble yourself."
"Not at all — I may be asking you to order things for me sometime."
I paid and left the shop.
The sheet music I'd bought held no interest for me at all.
I'd give it to someone at my regular jazz bar — someone would be happy with it.
Back in my room, I listened to To Zanarkand — the opening track from Final Fantasy X.
I'd lost count of how many times I'd played it on repeat.
And still it never grew old.
Kukkīzu, just now.
They said they also gave piano lessons, didn't they...
The image of the piece and the image of Harumi overlapped.
Eyes closed, and what floated up was Harumi's face, looking down, that sad expression.
What Zanarkand and Harumi had in common — a faint sadness, a shadow.
And yet gentle, healing.
A version of me who could only use my face in the gray-zone underworld of Shinjuku Kabukichō.
An expression that looked like it was carrying some kind of grief.
I wanted to do something about that.
But what could someone like me do?
I thought about it from every angle.
Using the bartender skills from my past — make cocktails for her right in front of her.
Would she be happy with that?
Eat good food together.
Talk and laugh and share time.
No — after that date she's been avoiding me in a way I can't understand.
Why is she avoiding me?
Worst case, if she never contacts me — I could go to the hostess club where Harumi works and ask once.
First apologize for whatever I'd done. And then I wanted to live for her.
Focus.
Something only I could do...
Isn't there something?
Hmm... wait a moment...
Me, past thirty, starting piano for the first time.
Well — if I count childhood piano, not exactly the first time...
But since I hadn't done it properly, it might as well be a first attempt.
And — I'd challenge myself to learn just one piece, for her, and complete To Zanarkand and play it for her.
She'd be surprised — and happy, maybe...
If someone like me could play piano...
Could I give Harumi something that would move her?
Reckless — and yet I wanted to make some kind of move.
First, go to Kukkīzu.
Go and ask.
Whether they could teach me piano — or rather, To Zanarkand — or not...
I turned on the PlayStation 2 and watched the Final Fantasy X opening.
Could I actually play this piece?
I wanted to do something for her.
Sleep early tonight, and go ask first thing tomorrow.
