I was in my lodgings, my hands clutching the sides of my head in agony over Shikama’s silence, when Yushima decided to pay me a visit.
Initially, I elected to ignore him. But he began shouting from the other side of the door, “Please! You have to help me! I think I’m going crazy!” His shouts grew more and more frantic until I no longer felt comfortable feigning oblivion. An excruciating sense of sympathy began to well up in my heart. I opened the door one tiny sliver, ashamed by my weakness. Yushima was standing there, face dreadfully pale.
“Yes? What’s this business about going crazy?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve started seeing things.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t sleep, so I was lying awake in the middle of the night when I heard a clacking and a rumbling somewhere behind my building. So I went to take a look, and it was a train! The Eizan was rolling right past my apartment!”
“Remind me where your apartment is.”
“Ichijoji. But I’m not anywhere near the tracks!”
“Hmm. Then yes, I agree that’s very peculiar.”
“Trains can’t leave their tracks, can they? I mean, the Eizan shouldn’t be rolling down any old street, right?”
“Of course it shouldn’t. That would be absurd.”
He stared into my eyes intently. “Then I must be going crazy.”
“You’re really worked up about this, aren’t you?” I said. “If you ask me, you’re just overthinking it. All you need to do is clear your mind. When your head is completely empty, you’ll be free of this nonsense.”
“But how can I go about my day if I’m not allowed to think?”
“Aren’t you usually holed up in your room like a shut-in anyway?”
“I’m not a shut-in!”
“But you’ve stopped showing up to club practices, haven’t you? They’re worried about you.”
“I know, but… I just can’t work up the will to go.”
“Well, how about exercising on your own, then?”
“Exercise how? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Don’t think about it. Just go. Head over to the base of Mount Daimonji and climb to the top. In fact, while you’re at it, keep hiking down the other side until you hit Lake Biwa. Don’t stop walking. As long as you stay in motion, you won’t have to think.”
“Why would I want to do that? I’d just tire myself out. I’m a busy person, you know. I’ve got things to do!”
“Mark my words. If you stay holed up in your apartment all day, you will go crazy.”
Yushima fell silent.
I pressed once more. “Get out of your room. Head to Daimonji. That’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”
And for once, Yushima left quietly, without any fuss.
For a time, I sat steeped in unpleasant thought. I had considered recommending he seek the services of the university’s counseling center, but I knew Yushima wasn’t likely to go. If he’d possessed the willpower to step on campus, I wouldn’t have been dealing with this mess in the first place. Perhaps a trip up Mount Daimonji wasn’t such a bad suggestion. Maybe it really would cure him of his ails.
To be honest, I couldn’t fathom why Yushima had come to me for advice. When we were both still active club members, we’d hardly ever spoken.
I realized I needed to get out for some fresh air myself, to shake the gloominess lingering in Yushima’s wake. I decided to head to the video shop.
✦ ✦ ✦
Few twentysomethings are capable of the life of asceticism my compatriots and I pursue. Society urges the individual to drown himself in pleasure. In fact, the pursuit of pleasure is seen as vital to maintaining a healthy economy. People must spend to keep the wheels turning. It’s no great surprise, then, that the abstemious life I choose is looked down upon by others. My economic contribution is roughly equivalent to that of a hibernating bear.
I do not, however, allow society’s jaded perceptions to sway my resolve. I take its criticisms in stride, determined never to surrender my pride.
An ascetic life. When one hears the phrase, undoubtedly the first thing that floats to mind are the monks of old. But even the monks had their tricks to help them persist in self-sacrifice. They knew that such tricks had to be applied assiduously. Letting up for even a moment would allow the allure of the mundane to come into focus. The vices of the world would begin to glitter and gleam, soon too dazzling to make out anything else. And who can hope to achieve enlightenment or teach others to do the same when blinded by worldly desire?
I imagine some monks became fixated upon the tricks themselves, so much that they forgot their original pursuit. My compatriots and I were keen not to fall into the same rut. We would keep our rationalities intact. We would always be in control of the man downstairs, never he us.
It was an endless struggle. Our mischievous second heads were always anxious to cast off the yoke of reason, and the slightest opportunity could excite their fancies and cause them to thrash wildly. To preserve the tranquility of our minds, we required novel material on a near-daily basis. The video shop therefore played a key role in maintaining our beautiful, inspiring lives of self-sacrifice.
Like most others, I was once burdened by the quintessential guilt of adolescence that accompanies regulatory stimulation. I’m sure that, as a teenager, I must have weakly protested each night, huddled over my soaked pillow, staring at the cyclops with his brazen grin and asking when his seemingly limitless appetite might finally be sated. But by autumn of my first year of college, I was graced by a sudden inspiration. I realized one must abandon all feelings of self-loathing if one wishes to face the world with composure and stand as a pinnacle to rational thought. That conviction took root, and now I have no qualms about the activity whatsoever. If anything, I embrace its utility. I know that I mustn’t ever let up, for in this topsy-turvy world, there’s no telling when the little head’s desires might supplant reason. If he had his way, I’d find myself prancing down the streets of Kiyamachi in the middle of the night, crying “Ha-ha!” and “Wahoo!” as I thrust love letters into the hands of every woman who passed me by. The thought of being reduced to such indiscriminate behavior sends chills down my spine.
That is why it is my firm belief that, to preserve peace on this good earth, every man must take responsibility to quell his savage soul. It is a heavy burden, but it is our duty as members of society.
Determined to do my part, I weave in and out among the staggering mountains of media produced to hoodwink that sinister spearhead of reproductive instinct and allow my ears to heed the shrill cackles of Y chromosomes echoing at every corner. And all the while, I diligently peruse the newest releases. For you see, I have an intimate knowledge regarding the importance of these preventative measures. Once upon a time, my little man ran amok. It happened when Mizuo and I were together, when my rational mind had checked out. The snake saw his chance and seized it, letting forth a torrent of selfish demands. I was a defeated father lorded over by his rebellious child, unable to manage anything beyond empty scoldings. Johnny had overwhelmed me with his wild ways.
Losing one’s rationality is a terrifying thing. Nonetheless, I’m afraid that expounding upon my disoriented state of mind at the time would serve little value to my dear readers or to me. I would be a fool to expose my insipid failures as if making a great and weighty confession. No. On this point I stand firm: I haven’t the slightest intention to divulge the details of Mizuo’s and my vita sexualis.