The Art Museum at 8 AM is at the End of the Shopping Street

Twelve?

Twelve, huh.

Twelve.


When I think about it, that's more than a whole carton.
Is all of that going on top of a piece of toast?

"One a day."

My mother's demonic face flashes through my mind, the way I was raised being told that.
I press my hands together in my heart.
Sorry, Mom. Just for today.
I giggle to myself and get on the train, making sure I'll arrive in time for the 8 AM opening.

Even though it's still morning, the train is filled with salarymen swaying with exhausted faces.

Someone dozing off while clutching their backpack.
Someone yawning widely without covering their mouth.
Someone staring at their smartphone with a bored expression.
Glancing at them, I can only think about eggs.

I get off at the nearest station and exit the ticket gate. I head toward the shopping street, the opposite direction from the bustling area.
Most of the shops still have their shutters down, and it's dim.
In the midst of that, only a udon shop is spilling out a lonely light.

Old men and elderly people are sitting on the bench in front of the shop, silently slurping udon.
The scent of dashi broth wafts over.

Udon for breakfast.
That sounds pretty good.
My feet turn toward the udon shop.
But my breakfast today isn't Japanese food.

I turn my feet back and head deeper into the shopping street.
I keep walking deeper into the shopping street, and even further beyond that.
Is it really located this far ahead?

Just as I started to think that, the shop suddenly appeared.
A blue building with a red roof. A flashy pattern that looked like paint had been splashed everywhere.
It was a shop that looked like it had jumped right out of a video game world.
As soon as I sat down, I ordered my "target item" without hesitation.

I was told it would take some time, so I decided to wait while reading the menu.
Every page had something eye-catching. Before I knew it, I had reached the last page,
and I opened the first page again. That was when it happened.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.


"Sorry to keep you waiting. Here is the BIGBANG."

Yes. The thing I ordered was the beginning of the universe---

Wait, isn't it too big?
I couldn't help but laugh.

Twelve eggs. A seven-centimeter-thick piece of extra-thick toast.
I even remember the numbers.
But, no, this is...
Even though I had seen it on screens, this was our first meeting.

The table that felt spacious just a moment ago suddenly feels cramped.
Even when I look away, I find my gaze returning to it.

I was captivated by the BIGBANG.

"Miss, you definitely won't be able to eat all that, so use this."
The staff member's voice snaps me back to reality.
What they were pointing at was aluminum foil.
Apparently, the assumption is that you'll wrap up what you can't finish and take it home.

I stare at the BIGBANG again.
I have to capture this impact. I ready my camera.

So the whole thing fits.
So the thickness comes across.
From directly above.
From an angle.
Face to face.

Click, click, click.
But it's completely different.

Even though it's reigning so majestically right in front of me, it suddenly becomes modest in photos.
Where did that "wow" factor go?

I put my hand next to it.
I move the mini salad closer.
I place the aluminum foil nearby.

No. It's wrong. It doesn't convey it. No matter how many pictures I take, it looks like a completely different thing.
The BIGBANG in the photos just looked like a slightly large piece of toast.
I'll give up. I pick up my spoon.


...That said, how do I eat this? What's the correct way to eat it?
On top of the toast, egg salad is piled up in an unbelievable amount.
It was a miraculous balance that made it strange that it didn't collapse.
If I lift the bread, it looks like an avalanche is about to happen.

Well, I have no choice but to attack from here.
I insert the spoon.

Egg.
Egg.
Egg.

No matter how much I scoop, it's still just egg.
No matter how much I eat, the scenery doesn't change at all.



Finally, I can see the surface of the bread. At last. Bread!
I couldn't tell from the look of it, but the bread had cuts in it to divide it into thirds.
I only notice this kind of thoughtful design as I continue eating. I grab it with my hand and lift it.

Crunch.
Chewy.
Juicy.

I couldn't tell from the photo. Even though the outside is crispy, the inside is fluffy and chewy.
The more I chew, the more elasticity it has, almost like mochi.

Butter had soaked thoroughly between the cuts.
Every time I take a bite, the saltiness and oil spread out.
I couldn't see this from the outside either.

Along the way, I notice that the middle of the bread is sinking.
I see. The eggs are too heavy.

Suddenly, I become curious about the aluminum foil on the side. I peel it back just a little.
Immediately, the egg salad starts to collapse.
Oh.
This shiny stuff had a purpose too. It was reinforcement to support the mountain of eggs.

I notice one more thing.
Even though it's toasted so fragrantly, the surface of the toast is strangely clean.
There's almost no char. They probably scrape off the burnt parts.

Every time I notice one thing, another thing I'm curious about appears.
I learned later that this shop is run by an active detective.
No wonder.
The BIGBANG had criminal elements.


I had seen it many times in photos. But I didn't know until I actually ate it.
The toast sinking under the weight of the eggs.
The aluminum foil supporting the bread.
The effort of scraping off the char.
Things that weren't visible in the photos were found one after another.

Before I knew it, I wasn't eating, I was appreciating it.
Ah, so that's what it is.
Until now, I had always wondered.

"Why do people go to art museums?"

There are photos.
There are videos.
You can even read reviews.
I thought that was enough.

But I was wrong.

I knew the number of eggs and the thickness of the toast.
I had seen the photos.
I had read the reviews.
Even so, I didn't know anything about the BIGBANG in front of me in the true sense.


There is a pressure you can't feel through a screen.
There are things you can't see unless you get close.
There are things you can only notice when you are right in front of it.
That is why people go to the trouble of visiting.

Before I knew it, the plate was empty.
Even though I thought there was no way I could finish it.

On the way home, I was already thinking about the next menu item.
King Ghidorah, or the Dragon Slayer?

Ah.
Is this art?