A Very Real Way
The story’s nearing the end now. I’ve got less time to devote to writing this, so I’m not sure if it’ll get cut off before the end or what.
It’s too bad, but I think the writing’ll have to be a little less detailed than before.
Though I’d made up my mind to repay Miyagi’s debt, my blind idiocy wasn’t something easily cured. But at least when it comes to what’s to follow, maybe my misjudgment isn’t too much to blame.
After all, it seemed impossible from the start. Her debt was a sum far greater than the salaryman’s expenditures which Himeno once spoke of. There was no surefire way for a boring college student to make that much in two months.
But for the time being, I searched for one. Doing admirable work was something that seemed unrealistic in this case. No matter how hard I worked, having only two months to do so, it would be squeezing water from a stone.
I could arguably make back the 300,000 yen Miyagi gave me, but I didn’t think she’d want me to labor away my last months like that. Similarly, she wouldn’t want me to resort to anything criminal like larceny, robbery, fraud, or kidnapping.
And because I was trying to earn the money for her, of course I wouldn’t want to do it in any way she didn’t approve of.
I considered gambling, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to go through with that one. I knew very well that I wouldn’t be winning any bets with my back to the wall like this. Gambling is something always won by those with money to spare.
If you reach out to the goddess of fortune, she runs away. You have to tough it out and wait for her to approach, then catch her at just the right moment. But I didn’t have time left for that, and I didn’t have any sense for what the right moment was.
It was like trying to catch a cloud. If there were some amazing way to make a lifetime of money in two months, everyone would be doing it. Basically all I was doing was trying to check one more time something that everyone else would plainly state was impossible.
My only “weapon,” so to speak, was the fact that with such little life left I could take any risk, but I wouldn’t be the first person who’s thrown their life away for money. And I could tell how that didn’t pan out for them.
But I still kept thinking. Reckless, I know. But even if no one else had succeeded before, I just had to be the first.
I kept telling myself: Think, think, think. How can I pay the debt in the remaining two months? How can I ensure Miyagi will sleep peacefully? How can I ensure Miyagi won’t be alone after I’m gone?
I pondered while walking around town. I sort of picked up in my twenty years of experience that it’s best to walk around when you’re thinking about something with no clear answer.
I kept walking the next day, and the day after that. I hoped for an answer to come rolling at my feet.
I didn’t eat much of anything during that time.
Again speaking from experience, I knew that at a certain level of hunger, my head cleared up; so I was counting on that.
It didn’t take long for me to arrive at the thought of going to the shop again.
My last hope was the shop in that musty old building, that had once thrown me into the pits of despair, and still allowed me two more transactions.
One day I asked Miyagi. “Thanks to you, Miyagi, I’m a lot happier than I used to be. If I were to hypothetically sell my lifespan at that shop now, how much would it go for?”
“…As you predict, the values are fluid to some extent,” Miyagi confirmed. “But unfortunately, a subjective sense of happiness will have little effect on the value of a lifespan. Their focus is on objectively measurable happinesses with a basis. …Though I question that approach.”
“So then, what would add the most value?”
“Social contributions, popularity… I believe they favor things which are easily recognizable through objective means.”
“Easily recognizable, huh.”
“Um, Mr. Kusunoki?”
“What’s up?”
“Please don’t think of doing anything strange,” Miyagi said with concern.
“I’m not thinking anything strange. I’m thinking perfectly natural thoughts for this situation.”
“…I believe I know more or less what you are considering,” Miyagi said. “The majority of it is ways to repay my debt, yes? If so, then I’m glad. But while I am glad, I must say I don’t want you to waste your remaining time. If you are trying to look out for my happiness… I’m terribly sorry, but that is a definite lapse of judgment.”
“Just for reference, Miyagi, what’s happiness for you?”
“…Pay attention to me,” Miyagi pouted. “You haven’t been talking to me much lately, have you?”
Miyagi was definitely right. What I was doing was a total misjudgment on my part.
But it didn’t mean I’d give up that easily. I had resolve. I’d acquire easily-recognizable things like contributions to society and popularity.
Once I did, I could get more value from my life. That seemed to be so. Dare I say, I hoped I’d be famous enough that my name would be known by all.
I honestly didn’t know which was more realistic - purely making money, or becoming someone who only had value in that his lifespan could sell for a high price.
I came to think that they were equally unrealistic. But I had nothing else, so I had to at least give it a try.
I was approaching the limits of what I could think up myself. I would need the imagination of others.
I first visited the old bookstore. I did tend to go there when I was troubled, after all. Casually looking through books that had nothing to do with the situation seemed to make most problems evaporate.
I figured it probably wouldn’t work quite so well this time, but that day, I wouldn’t be relying on books alone.
I called for the old owner, who was in the back listening to baseball relays on the radio, surrounded by piles of books on all sides. He raised his head and gave an unenergetic “Ah.”
I decided not to touch upon the shop that dealt in lifespan. Though I did have some desire to find out just how much he knew about the shop, and above all I wanted to tell him about everything that had happened in the past month.
But if I were to talk about that, naturally my having only two months left would come up, and he might have felt guilty about it coming to that.
So I didn’t mention anything about lifespan, and had an idle chat with him, for just this once acting like I didn’t feel Miyagi’s presence.
About the weather. About books. About baseball. About festivals. There wasn’t much of note to speak of, but surprisingly, the conversation gave me a unique sense of ease. Maybe I liked this store, and this old man.
While Miyagi was busy staring at the bookshelves, I whispered a question to the old man.
“How do you think you can improve your own value?”
The owner - at last - turned down the volume on the radio.
“Hmm. Guess you just have to be reliable about doing things. That’s not something I can do, though. I guess you just see things you "can” do in front of you, and you get good at staying on top of them. That what I think at my age.“
"I see,” I nodded.
“But,” he said as if denying what he just said, “there’s something more important than that. And that’s not to trust the advice of somebody like me. Somebody who never achieved anything talking about success is just somebody who’s just blind to their own failings. So don’t follow my example. I can’t even understand why exactly I failed. Don’t have to show any respect to what a guy like that says.
”…People who’ve had lots of failures talk about those failures as if to imply that if they have another life, they’ll be a big success. After facing all that hardship, they think they won’t mess up again. But they’re all - me included, of course - making a fundamental mistake. Failures know a lot about failure, sure. But knowing failure is completely different from knowing success. Fixing your mistakes doesn’t mean success takes their place - you’ve just got a point to start at, is all. That’s something failures don’t understand.”
I found it a little funny remembering how Miyagi had said something very similar.
“They have only just arrived at the starting line. They have only just regained their composure after a long losing streak. Mistaking that as a chance to turn things around will do them no good.”
Lastly, he said:
“Hey, you thinking of selling your lifespan again?”
“What does that mean?”, I smiled innocently.
After leaving the bookstore, just the same as before, I entered the CD shop. The usual blond clerk greeted me kindly.
Here, too, I didn’t talk about lifespan, but just chatted about stuff like CDs I’d listened to lately.
Lastly, again finding a time when Miyagi wouldn’t hear, I asked:
“How do you think you can accomplish something in a short time?”
His reply came quick. “Guess you gotta depend on others, dude. ‘Cause a single guy can’t do that much on his own, yeah? Which means you gotta have someone else’s help. I don’t have a whole lotta faith in my own ability, tell you the truth. If it’s a problem I can’t tackle with, like, 80% of my all, I go straight to somebody else.”
It was advice I wasn’t sure if I should take to heart or not.
Outside, it had suddenly started raining heavily, as it does in the summer.
I went to leave the store prepared to get soaked, but the clerk lent me a vinyl umbrella.
"I dunno what’s goin’ on, but if you wanna accomplish something, don’t forget about your health,” he said.
I thanked him, put up the umbrella, and walked home with Miyagi. It was a small umbrella, so our shoulders got soaking wet.
People watching looked at me quizzically - they saw an idiot holding an umbrella the wrong position.
“I like this,” Miyagi laughed.
“What do you like?”, I asked.
“Well, essentially… Despite how comical it looks to others, you letting your shoulder get wet is a very kind gesture. I like that sort of thing.”
“Oh,” I said, my cheeks getting a little red.
“You’re a shameless shy man,” Miyagi said, poking my shoulder.
By this point, I didn’t just not care what people thought of me, I enjoyed being treated like a weirdo.
Because it would make Miyagi happy, too. Because the more comical I looked, the more it would make Miyagi smile.
I took shelter from the rain with Miyagi under a shop overhang. I heard thunder in the distance, rain pouring out of the gutter, and squishing inside my wet shoes.
There, I saw a familiar face. The man, walking quickly with a dark blue umbrella, looked up at me and stopped.
He was a guy in my department at school who I knew well enough to exchange greetings with.
“Been a while,” he said with cold eyes. “Where the hell have you been? Haven’t seen you on campus at all lately.”
I put my hand on Miyagi’s shoulder and said, “I’ve been going around with this girl. Her name’s Miyagi.”
“Not funny,” he said, clearly displeased. “You’re such a creep.”
“Can’t stop you from thinking that,” I replied. “I’m sure I’d say the same thing in your position. But Miyagi’s here, all right. And she’s real cute. I’ll respect that you don’t believe it, so I want you to respect that I do.”
”…I always knew it, but man, you really are deranged, Kusunoki. You’re always hiding in your husk instead of interacting with people, huh? How about a peek at the outside world?“
Then he left, fed up with me and stunned.
I sat on the bench and watched the raindrops. It soon started to clear up, seemingly only a brief shower. We squinted at the light off the wet ground.
"Um… Thank you for that,” Miyagi said, leaning on my shoulder.
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