Yuu-2
“—So then, could you please lay off with the threats…?” I complained with all the pathos I could muster.
Two long shadows stretched across the roof. The dusk-filled May air was clear even this high above ground, and wispy illusions fell across the surroundings. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded as if it was petering off into the wind, weak and flimsy. I thought that something must have happened because the ground shook beneath my feet, but then I realised that my legs were wobbling like jelly.
“Dying, killing. Please don’t utter such mortifying words so casually…”
“Whatchu say?!”
The girl in front of me—Maria-san—raised her voice in anger as she shot me a glare.
It was a dreadful look.
She backed me against the fence and opened her mouth wide, as if threatening to eat me up right that minute. She resembled some sort of hypertrophied bullfrog.
I regretted not bringing along any recording equipment. If I had possession of the deplorable parts of her speech that, mere moments ago, had included liberal use of unspeakable words, I imagine the foul language would be reined in rather quickly and effectively.
Of course, I would not actually do it. Even now, I still thought of her as a friend. Selling out a friend was the one thing I did not want to do.
“Please, calm yourself down…” I said, recoiling.
Unfortunately, that only had the effect of pouring oil on a fire.
“Chigusa—you think you’re in any position to say that?!”
Maria-san banged her fist against the fence, breathing wildly. Her frog punch made such an explosive impact it threatened to split open my ears (1). I nearly curled up like an armadillo at the sound of it.
She had a point: when one compared our relative standings, I had no right to complain. No matter how much societal values change, the weak can only blindly follow the strong.
And yet, even so…
“I only want to ask where Shia-san is…”
I attempted to talk things through.
If I could speak, you would understand—those are famous words. They are supposed to be a universal human principle. That goes for everyone: Prime Ministers and assassins, editors and novelists penning the beginning of their stories well past the deadline, and bill collectors and a debt-ridden person on the verge of bankruptcy alike.
After all, we have no reason not to understand after talking things through.
“If she doesn’t call me, I’ll be in trouble… My money…”
“That’s the only thing that comes out of your gob—money, money, money! Don’t you have something else that’s important to you?!” she yelled at me, causing me to recoil once again. That did not sound like the words of someone who would cheerfully borrow someone else’s money.
Had I made a mistake? What was this “something else that’s important” she mentioned?
Figuring I had better take stock of the situation, I glanced around. Beyond the cluster of inner city buildings towering over the surroundings like a forest of bamboo shoots, an unusually large evening sun was melting into the horizon.
Today, the world was painted in a shade of red darker than even fresh blood. Though some might claim that the deep, dark redness is chilling, to me it sparkled brilliantly, like a cut diamond. It is not much to brag about, but the view from my school rooftop is undoubtedly one of those things that cannot be bought with money.
As I gazed down upon that spectacular sunset view, I thought to myself: in this ephemeral human existence, what is most important?
—Money, of course.
There is nothing that cannot be bought with money. In the unlikely event that something priceless existed, it would not be worth one micron in this capitalist society, so it is the same as not existing. It is really nothing to brag about.
A cut diamond? Our society believes more in cold, hard cash than jewellery, so that sort of thing is rather dubious.
Yes, I was fairly certain I had not made a mistake.
Feeling relieved, I turned back to Maria-san. “If you cannot tell me, I really will be in trouble. I will be neck deep in trouble. Running off with borrowed money is a grave offence in today’s business world.”
These days, more and more young people have been vanishing into the night. People with many dreams—or, to put it bluntly, those who are severely wanting in any form of plan for their lives—are the prime targets for money lending, although recently they have been delaying their repayments at an unusual rate. I can only assume that they got together behind the scenes and made off with my finances.
I, too, have been slighted. This would be the only time that a girl who appears as delicate and beautiful on the outside as I would ever be so reproachful.
“L-Like I said, it’s the Random Crossroad!”
“Uh-huh.”
“For sure she disappeared because of that urban legend!”
“I’ve heard quite enough,” I sighed, shaking my hand limply.
Maria-san had a very firm friendship with that aimless girl, and now she wanted to make use of my finances for herself.
Even as she received life as a frog, she had unrealistic dreams of becoming a swan, and so she would rely on another person’s money. Frogs are frogs, after all. Ribbit ribbit ribbit. They sing their habitual song, the artefact of the simple and easy existence they ought to aspire to.
Everyone who is not me ought to become a frog. That being said, if the world did happen to be a village of a hundred frogs, I would instantly leave it for a human village.
It takes one to know one: a frog to know a frog, and a person swamped in debt to know the thought process of a person swamped in debt.
Thus, I called her and attempted to speak to her, only to hear it was all because of some urban legend.
The so-called Random Crossroad.
The scene: a road curve in a residential area, gleaming with orange light from a convex traffic mirror. If you walk down the path at midnight holding hands with your lover, a fourth road appear at the end of the crossroad. If you choose the wrong path, you may never return.
“What a trifling matter…”
I know not about randomness or romantic interludes, but I prefer to stay within means, even when it comes to how I am insulted. It is quite all right to be frightened by the occult until you are in grade school. It is fine to think of dates and liaisons until you are in middle school. That’s all well and good, but I would prefer to have my money back.
“Maria-san, if you are unwilling to be straight with me, I may or may not increase the rate of interest on your loan.”
“I can’t believe you…! Die! Piss off!”
Once again, she used very mortifying vocabulary. My legs shook beneath me.
I simply could not die and leave things the way they were, not when I had failed to collect the average two hundred per cent return on the money I lent.
“Besides, I only borrowed thirty grand. Why is it up to fifty, no, a hundred grand?”
“It went from forty thousand to five hundred thousand, to be precise.”
“What a rip-off!”
“I explained to you about the interest rate when I lent it to you. At the time you were putting your seal on the blank IOU, nothing would sway you.”
“No way… I mean, it went up so much…”
It always turns out like this. Debtors are all the same. When they borrow, they do so happily, but when the time comes for them to return the money, they grumble about so many trivial things. Honestly, it makes me wonder if there is a business in betraying people who would lend money out of the goodness in their hearts.
“You may consult your parents on the matter. For my part, I will prepare an explanation as to what you planned to use the money for.”
Maria-san had borrowed money to go on an overnight trip with her secret boyfriend. I was able to save a number of photos of the happy couple in my image folder, photos that seemed to hold multiple meanings. Transmitting photo attachments of the lovey-dovey pair is a simple matter.
“Urk…”
A flustered Maria-san gripped the fence and stood stock still.
It was clear as day that the two of us were high above ground—even a monkey would be aware of that fact. If this were a case of armadillo versus frog, the armadillo would simply roll over and splat—that would be the end of that. It would not even take three seconds to achieve an easy victory. And so, even if the weak can only follow the strong, I was nonetheless willing to come to a compromise through talking. I would certainly appreciate it if Maria-san lent her assistance, however.
“All you need to do is tell me where she is. I’m quite sure it won’t be any trouble to you at all, Maria-san. I will handle the rest.”
“Why are you so hung up on Shia…? You’ve already made enough profit, so why don’t you just leave her alone…?”
“Why, you ask? Are we not friends?” I said with a smile.
Debtors who return money are good friends. At the very least, I record them on my friends list.
On that note, the principle of “don’t let them live, but don’t let them die” is standard practice in the profession known as moneylending. Only a fool would let go of friends who produce money. Friendship is beautiful when it is backed by cold, hard reality, unfettered by flimsy illusions.
“You…” I wonder if Maria-san was moved as well. Her cheeks were blushing bright red.
She gazed at me with narrowed eyes overflowing with violent emotion and said:
“You… bitch!”
All of a sudden, a sound rang out, perfectly tonal and aesthetically pleasing.
She struck me on the cheek. She struck me.
At the same instant I realised this fact, my cheek began to twinge with pain.
“Er, uh… sor—”
Maria-san seemed to have come to her senses, for she clenched the palm she had just struck me with in a flustered manner. I was quite certain that she had acted out of reflex.
She must have been a peaceable girl, once upon a time. I understood very well that she had no intention of starting a fight. It was quite clear to me that she had lost all leeway for negotiation, so there was more than enough room in my heart to take the extenuating circumstances into consideration.
Since I was able to understand that much, making amends was an easy matter. Someone who would be angered by a mere slap is no decent person, of that I am sure.
“—That hurt.”
“…Eek!”
As I nursed my cheek, our eyes meet and her face turned pale.
It was as if she were gazing upon a hateful demon from hell. As she trembled with naked fear, she twisted her hip as if to flee.
She stumbled back a step, and then another.
“Let’s have a nice, proper talk, shall we?”
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
The moment I extended my hand, she let out a shriek and fled the rooftop.
What on earth was that?
Not only had I been threatened, I had also been struck. I had been trodden underfoot. I was overwhelmingly the victim here.
Did I really seem like the villain?
Panicked beyond belief, I gazed up at the blood-red evening sky, which looked like something from another world.
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) The Frog Punch is one of Aoki Masaru’s finishing moves in the boxing manga Hajime no Ippo.
Yuu-2
“—So then, could you please lay off with the threats…?” I complained with all the pathos I could muster.
Two long shadows stretched across the roof. The dusk-filled May air was clear even this high above ground, and wispy illusions fell across the surroundings. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded as if it was petering off into the wind, weak and flimsy. I thought that something must have happened because the ground shook beneath my feet, but then I realised that my legs were wobbling like jelly.
“Dying, killing. Please don’t utter such mortifying words so casually…”
“Whatchu say?!”
The girl in front of me—Maria-san—raised her voice in anger as she shot me a glare.
It was a dreadful look.
She backed me against the fence and opened her mouth wide, as if threatening to eat me up right that minute. She resembled some sort of hypertrophied bullfrog.
I regretted not bringing along any recording equipment. If I had possession of the deplorable parts of her speech that, mere moments ago, had included liberal use of unspeakable words, I imagine the foul language would be reined in rather quickly and effectively.
Of course, I would not actually do it. Even now, I still thought of her as a friend. Selling out a friend was the one thing I did not want to do.
“Please, calm yourself down…” I said, recoiling.
Unfortunately, that only had the effect of pouring oil on a fire.
“Chigusa—you think you’re in any position to say that?!”
Maria-san banged her fist against the fence, breathing wildly. Her frog punch made such an explosive impact it threatened to split open my ears (1). I nearly curled up like an armadillo at the sound of it.
She had a point: when one compared our relative standings, I had no right to complain. No matter how much societal values change, the weak can only blindly follow the strong.
And yet, even so…
“I only want to ask where Shia-san is…”
I attempted to talk things through.
If I could speak, you would understand—those are famous words. They are supposed to be a universal human principle. That goes for everyone: Prime Ministers and assassins, editors and novelists penning the beginning of their stories well past the deadline, and bill collectors and a debt-ridden person on the verge of bankruptcy alike.
After all, we have no reason not to understand after talking things through.
“If she doesn’t call me, I’ll be in trouble… My money…”
“That’s the only thing that comes out of your gob—money, money, money! Don’t you have something else that’s important to you?!” she yelled at me, causing me to recoil once again. That did not sound like the words of someone who would cheerfully borrow someone else’s money.
Had I made a mistake? What was this “something else that’s important” she mentioned?
Figuring I had better take stock of the situation, I glanced around. Beyond the cluster of inner city buildings towering over the surroundings like a forest of bamboo shoots, an unusually large evening sun was melting into the horizon.
Today, the world was painted in a shade of red darker than even fresh blood. Though some might claim that the deep, dark redness is chilling, to me it sparkled brilliantly, like a cut diamond. It is not much to brag about, but the view from my school rooftop is undoubtedly one of those things that cannot be bought with money.
As I gazed down upon that spectacular sunset view, I thought to myself: in this ephemeral human existence, what is most important?
—Money, of course.
There is nothing that cannot be bought with money. In the unlikely event that something priceless existed, it would not be worth one micron in this capitalist society, so it is the same as not existing. It is really nothing to brag about.
A cut diamond? Our society believes more in cold, hard cash than jewellery, so that sort of thing is rather dubious.
Yes, I was fairly certain I had not made a mistake.
Feeling relieved, I turned back to Maria-san. “If you cannot tell me, I really will be in trouble. I will be neck deep in trouble. Running off with borrowed money is a grave offence in today’s business world.”
These days, more and more young people have been vanishing into the night. People with many dreams—or, to put it bluntly, those who are severely wanting in any form of plan for their lives—are the prime targets for money lending, although recently they have been delaying their repayments at an unusual rate. I can only assume that they got together behind the scenes and made off with my finances.
I, too, have been slighted. This would be the only time that a girl who appears as delicate and beautiful on the outside as I would ever be so reproachful.
“L-Like I said, it’s the Random Crossroad!”
“Uh-huh.”
“For sure she disappeared because of that urban legend!”
“I’ve heard quite enough,” I sighed, shaking my hand limply.
Maria-san had a very firm friendship with that aimless girl, and now she wanted to make use of my finances for herself.
Even as she received life as a frog, she had unrealistic dreams of becoming a swan, and so she would rely on another person’s money. Frogs are frogs, after all. Ribbit ribbit ribbit. They sing their habitual song, the artefact of the simple and easy existence they ought to aspire to.
Everyone who is not me ought to become a frog. That being said, if the world did happen to be a village of a hundred frogs, I would instantly leave it for a human village.
It takes one to know one: a frog to know a frog, and a person swamped in debt to know the thought process of a person swamped in debt.
Thus, I called her and attempted to speak to her, only to hear it was all because of some urban legend.
The so-called Random Crossroad.
The scene: a road curve in a residential area, gleaming with orange light from a convex traffic mirror. If you walk down the path at midnight holding hands with your lover, a fourth road appear at the end of the crossroad. If you choose the wrong path, you may never return.
“What a trifling matter…”
I know not about randomness or romantic interludes, but I prefer to stay within means, even when it comes to how I am insulted. It is quite all right to be frightened by the occult until you are in grade school. It is fine to think of dates and liaisons until you are in middle school. That’s all well and good, but I would prefer to have my money back.
“Maria-san, if you are unwilling to be straight with me, I may or may not increase the rate of interest on your loan.”
“I can’t believe you…! Die! Piss off!”
Once again, she used very mortifying vocabulary. My legs shook beneath me.
I simply could not die and leave things the way they were, not when I had failed to collect the average two hundred per cent return on the money I lent.
“Besides, I only borrowed thirty grand. Why is it up to fifty, no, a hundred grand?”
“It went from forty thousand to five hundred thousand, to be precise.”
“What a rip-off!”
“I explained to you about the interest rate when I lent it to you. At the time you were putting your seal on the blank IOU, nothing would sway you.”
“No way… I mean, it went up so much…”
It always turns out like this. Debtors are all the same. When they borrow, they do so happily, but when the time comes for them to return the money, they grumble about so many trivial things. Honestly, it makes me wonder if there is a business in betraying people who would lend money out of the goodness in their hearts.
“You may consult your parents on the matter. For my part, I will prepare an explanation as to what you planned to use the money for.”
Maria-san had borrowed money to go on an overnight trip with her secret boyfriend. I was able to save a number of photos of the happy couple in my image folder, photos that seemed to hold multiple meanings. Transmitting photo attachments of the lovey-dovey pair is a simple matter.
“Urk…”
A flustered Maria-san gripped the fence and stood stock still.
It was clear as day that the two of us were high above ground—even a monkey would be aware of that fact. If this were a case of armadillo versus frog, the armadillo would simply roll over and splat—that would be the end of that. It would not even take three seconds to achieve an easy victory. And so, even if the weak can only follow the strong, I was nonetheless willing to come to a compromise through talking. I would certainly appreciate it if Maria-san lent her assistance, however.
“All you need to do is tell me where she is. I’m quite sure it won’t be any trouble to you at all, Maria-san. I will handle the rest.”
“Why are you so hung up on Shia…? You’ve already made enough profit, so why don’t you just leave her alone…?”
“Why, you ask? Are we not friends?” I said with a smile.
Debtors who return money are good friends. At the very least, I record them on my friends list.
On that note, the principle of “don’t let them live, but don’t let them die” is standard practice in the profession known as moneylending. Only a fool would let go of friends who produce money. Friendship is beautiful when it is backed by cold, hard reality, unfettered by flimsy illusions.
“You…” I wonder if Maria-san was moved as well. Her cheeks were blushing bright red.
She gazed at me with narrowed eyes overflowing with violent emotion and said:
“You… bitch!”
All of a sudden, a sound rang out, perfectly tonal and aesthetically pleasing.
She struck me on the cheek. She struck me.
At the same instant I realised this fact, my cheek began to twinge with pain.
“Er, uh… sor—”
Maria-san seemed to have come to her senses, for she clenched the palm she had just struck me with in a flustered manner. I was quite certain that she had acted out of reflex.
She must have been a peaceable girl, once upon a time. I understood very well that she had no intention of starting a fight. It was quite clear to me that she had lost all leeway for negotiation, so there was more than enough room in my heart to take the extenuating circumstances into consideration.
Since I was able to understand that much, making amends was an easy matter. Someone who would be angered by a mere slap is no decent person, of that I am sure.
“—That hurt.”
“…Eek!”
As I nursed my cheek, our eyes meet and her face turned pale.
It was as if she were gazing upon a hateful demon from hell. As she trembled with naked fear, she twisted her hip as if to flee.
She stumbled back a step, and then another.
“Let’s have a nice, proper talk, shall we?”
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
The moment I extended my hand, she let out a shriek and fled the rooftop.
What on earth was that?
Not only had I been threatened, I had also been struck. I had been trodden underfoot. I was overwhelmingly the victim here.
Did I really seem like the villain?
Panicked beyond belief, I gazed up at the blood-red evening sky, which looked like something from another world.
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) The Frog Punch is one of Aoki Masaru’s finishing moves in the boxing manga Hajime no Ippo.
