c14 16

I’ve always lived like this, and I’ll likely die this way, too.
Now then, to my editor, Harada-san, to the illustrator, Eiri Shirai-san, to the designers of KOMEWORKS among others, to everyone involved in the production and sales of this book, and finally to all of you people now holding this book, I offer my heartfelt appreciation and all of my love. Now, I lay down my pen for today.
I hope we will meet again.
Ao Jyumonji


Scene #11: A Bad Man
If you were born as a man... you want to be popular with girls. That’s just the way people feel, Ranta thought, and that was how he lived.
He couldn’t say on what day, of what month, of what year of his life he’d started to think that, but, well, by late in preschool he must’ve already felt that way, right? He’d always been aware of popularity. Yes. Hyper aware.
But, honestly, he wasn’t popular at all.
The guys that girls were into came into that surprisingly naturally. The ones who were already popular at that young age, they were like natural born populars. What was with that? That sort of inborn popularity, like they were promised popularity by the heavens themselves?
Like that guy.
That guy in his class, Minoura. Minoura Manato.
He had, like, cool eyes, you might call them? He was, what did they call him, a hunk? Blech. Like, what was he even supposed to be a hunk of? Lame!
Basically! Anyone they called a hunk was lame. Right?
But girls liked hunks. Blech. Blech. Ptooey!
Girls would steal glances and Minoura, squealing and making a fuss.
They were shit, all of them. Not one of them with an eye for quality.
Like, sure, Minoura had a pretty face, but there was clearly something up with the guy. He seemed like a real schemer. Guys like that were the worst. They were bad news. Like, maybe the guy had a bad home life, or something. Only he didn’t let anyone know, and bottled it up inside him. Then he did bad stuff behind the scenes. He was probably dealing drugs or something, wasn’t he? He so was. He was selling them like crazy. Maybe it was time to try asking him. Be like, “How much?” and then he’d say a price and give his whole game away. Scary!
That all aside, Ranta witnessed Minoura, whom he’d never talked to much, get slapped by a woman in the shopping district at 8:17 in the evening.
“How could you?!” the woman shouted as she slapped him hard on the cheek. “You’re the worst!” Then she took off running.
Judging by her hairstyle and clothes, she wasn’t the same age. She was, what’d they call them, a JD? She looked like she was in college. She was an adult woman, with oodles of sex appeal. The woman was probably crying.
Ranta had gone to karaoke with his friends after school, sung all he could sing, and was on his way home. It was the shopping district at night, so there were plenty of passersby.
Naturally, there was no way a woman slapping a hunk wouldn’t draw attention. There were a lot of people looking at Minoura as he stood still. Ranta was one of them.
What was more, up until the slap, Ranta hadn’t realized it was Minoura.
The incident had happened right in front of Ranta’s eyes.
Minoura was staring after the woman’s back. Then, casting his eyes downwards, he pressed a hand to his cheek and laughed a little.
“Ow... That hurt...”
Ranta was thinking he’d pretend not to know the guy and just keep walking, but if he was going to go home, that meant walking in front of Minoura. He’d hate to turn around and go the other way just to avoid him.
Well, they weren’t friends, and the guy was looking down, so he probably wouldn’t notice. Ranta tried to stroll past Minoura as naturally as he could.
“Huh?” the guy called out to him. “Ranta?”
“...Yeah.”
No, man, we aren’t so close you can call me by my given name! he thought, but he wasn’t going to snap at him over it. And as for ignoring it, well, Ranta had already responded.
“Wh... What was up with that?” Ranta asked. “That was kinda incredible. She just went ‘smack’!”
Minoura pulled his hand away from his face and smiled. His cheek was a little red. “I’m the bad one.”
“...What’re you smiling for, bud?”
“Huh?”
“It’s suspicious. The way you act like that...”
“Ohhh. I see.”
Minoura looked down. For a moment Ranta thought, Is this guy gonna cry?
“...Yeah. It’s not good to be like this. You’re absolutely right, Ranta.” “So...!” Ranta started.
The whole situation just made him madder, and Ranta took off running despite himself.
What am I running for? I look like a weirdo.

Minoura Manato.
That guy, he was a hunk, but he was a weirdo, too.
Scene #12: The Road to M-1
“Is this good?” Renji murmured, looking at his handiwork.
On the concourse of the largest station in this area there was a black board called Everyone’s Street Corner Message Board.
It was a black board, so it was meant for people to write a name and a time in chalk and use it to communicate when meeting up. Obviously, that had only been useful eons ago. Now, everyone had a smartphone or two, so no one did things in such a stupid, roundabout way. The street corner message board was plastered with posters for events like concerts, and advertisements for businesses, but not enough that it was buried in them.
This being a street corner message board that not many people took the time to stop and look at, there was a lot of open space. Also, since it had originally been meant as a way of communicating, if you were an individual, not a company, it was apparently free to use. No, not just apparently, he’d checked this. It absolutely was.

Seeking Partner
Can play funny man or straight man.
Need someone who can play funny man or straight man.
Please contact me.
[email protected]

Renji was trying out posting on the message board.
Naturally, that e-mail address was what you’d call a burner. 2951 wasn’t his birthday or anything, either. The numbers could be read fu-ku-ko-i, “luck, come to me” in Japanese. He wouldn’t normally, but he’d decided to try using lucky numbers. The “tr” was short for Tanaka Renji. He figured simple was best here, but maybe he should have given it a little twist.
Still, though...
“Pfft... Heh heh heh...”
As he watched the message board from a place where he could just barely see it, he felt so ridiculous, so empty, and so slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Seeking Partner”? What was he thinking?
And why, of all places, was he posing on Everyone’s Street Corner Message Board, where no one would even look?
Was it because he had no other ideas?
Was he stupid?
No, he clearly was stupid. No matter how you looked at it, this was the work of an idiot. If he was truly seeking a partner so he could make it in comedy, he wouldn’t be posting about it in a place like that. Still, Renji was as serious as serious could get. He wanted a partner from the bottom of his heart. That was why he’d refined his text. He’d written and rewritten it. This had been his first draft:

Seeking a Crazy Partner
Orthodox, double straight man, double funny man, bring it on.
Let’s make us some new comedy together! RSVP ASAP LMAO
[email protected]

Yes, yes, yes, it was obvious what anyone would say, looking at it.
He’d hoped people would think, This is no good. No good at all.
But, wait, it’s so unfunny, maybe it’s actually funny instead?
The result was it had just been unfunny. Unfunny and typically bad, something he knew so well that it hurt. That was why he’d fixed it. In the end, he’d gone with something so simple, it couldn’t be misunderstood.
It wasn’t funny, but when he thought about it, the fact he was making a serious posting on Everyone’s Street Corner Message post was funny to begin with, right? What need was there to add to that? If you piled too much on, sometimes it just got lame. In other words, wouldn’t it be redundant?
He knew this. Renji was a student of comedy. This was only slightly droll, not laugh-out-loud funny. He understood that much.
However, he wanted to get into comedy, so he posted on the station’s message board. “Seeking Partner.” And the guy who applied was his partner now. Seriously.
Well, how about it? Would that be a funny story or what?
The guy who made the posting, and the guy who responded, would both be a bit off in the head. The kind of weirdos that are funny. They’d succeed, get their own radio show or something, and become a hit there. He could only imagine they’d be covered by an internet news site and go viral. Meeting at a comedy school, that wasn’t good enough. It was too common. It was having a meeting like this that was important.
It wasn’t without problems.
He had no belief they’d actually be able to meet this way.
Renji checked the time on his phone. Soon, it would be midnight. Time for the last train.
He’d been watching over Everyone’s Street Corner Message board for about eight hours, give or take, and no one, not one person, had looked at his posting.
Naturally, no messages had come, either.
He muttered, “The road to comedy is a hard one...”
Scene #13: Once-in-a-Lifetime Events Can Happen Any Day
Was he lacking energy... maybe?
Well, Manato was the same as ever, though. He’d said, “Good morning,” to everyone he met, without discriminating. If they struck up a conversation, he responded. Not just going along with whatever, either. If he didn’t know something, he said so, and he’d ask questions instead, or tell people what he thought. But it was quick, and never too pushy. He wasn’t like ramen, he was soba. Sarashina Soba at that. The high-class stuff.
Haruhiro thought of Manato as a good friend. For Manato, with his broad web of male and female acquaintances, Haruhiro was probably just another classmate. But for Haruhiro, Manato was one of his few friends.
In the time from when they went to school to when they returned home, they always spoke at least once or twice. Sometimes, they even had lengthy conversations.
For Haruhiro, that was enough to think they were pretty close.
So, one time, Haruhiro caught himself observing Manato.
Manato was a mystery. He got on with people incredibly well, and he could talk to anyone. He was a pretty boy, or a hunk, so he stood out even just standing there. Despite that, Haruhiro would sometimes suddenly notice that Manato was nowhere to be found.
Naturally, Manato was popular with the girls, so it was not uncommon for girls from other classes to come looking for him.
When those girls asked Haruhiro, “Where’s Minoura-kun?” sometimes he just couldn’t tell them.
Manato caught people’s attention, but then he’d suddenly up and disappear. He’s not here, Haruhiro would think, and then out of nowhere, Manato would appear. That was sort of what Manato was like.
Today, Manato hadn’t disappeared once. In the time between classes, during break, he’d been in the classroom the whole time. Obviously, he hadn’t been in a daze or anything, either. He’d been talking with someone or other the whole time, sometimes laughing out loud.
There was nothing all that strange about him.
It just felt like he was spending a lot of time sitting in his chair.
Basically, he wasn’t moving around much. That was why Haruhiro got the impression that, probably, he didn’t have much energy.
Even if he thought, I wonder what’s up? Haruhiro was a little hesitant to bring it up over something so minor. Like, for Haruhiro himself, if someone came up to him and said, “You’ve been sitting down all break today. Is something up?” he’d think, Huh? What’s with this guy?
It does bother me, though, Haruhiro reflected. Well, he is a friend, after all.
After the school day ended, while he was doing various other stuff, Haruhiro left the school alone like usual.
Though he admired the idea of having a riotous good time with his friends, ultimately, that was a world far removed from his own. Besides, he didn’t have many friends to begin with. Though the number wasn’t zero. He just couldn’t feel close to the kind of people who got clingy. He was pretty okay with just being by himself. It was lonely sometimes, but that was only ever temporary. He’d play games, or read books, and eventually he’d feel fine again.
“Haruhiro?” somebody asked.
“...Uwah!”
Maybe because Haruhiro was deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed someone was right beside him until they’d called his name.
“Huh? Ah... Manato.”
“So you go this way, huh?” Manato asked. “On your way home.”
“Oh, um... Huh? You’re going this way, too, Manato?”
“I’m not.”
His smile—though Haruhiro wasn’t sure why he thought this; he couldn’t explain it—felt kind of shallow, like it wasn’t a real smile.
“I see,” Haruhiro said slowly.
Manato walked shoulder-to-shoulder with him down the familiar road home.
For a time, Manato said nothing. Though it was odd, it wasn’t unpleasant. Haruhiro could have kept quiet for a day or two.
“You’re not going to ask why?” Manato asked.
If Manato hadn’t said anything, they might have parted ways without exchanging a single word.
“Well... I thought it might be something like that,” Haruhiro confessed.
“That I might just feel like walking home with you, or something?”
“Like, once in your life, you might end up feeling that way, maybe... I guess.”
Manato covered his face with his right hand, laughing. “You really are interesting, Haruhiro.” “You think so?”
“Yeah. You’re funny.”
Manato moved his hand away from his face. His cheek was just a little red. Had he hit it somewhere, or done something to it? Or maybe he’d been punched?
Haruhiro didn’t ask what had happened.
In a once-in-a-lifetime event, just about anything could probably happen.
Scene #14: Idol Worship
“Listen, Yume, she was thinkin’ she wanted to be an idol.”
Hearing Yume say that out of nowhere during break really surprised Merii.
“A-A-An idol...? Um, idol? Like NHK, or Imoaraizaka...”
“M-Merii...” Shihoru said nervously. “NHK is a Japanese broadcasting association, and there’s no idol group called Imoaraizaka...”
Hearing her error pointed out, Merii realized she’d been so confused that she’d gotten things all mixed up.
“Um, er... NBA? Was that it?”
“The NBA is the National Basketball Association in North America.”
“The right answer was KGB!”
“Yume, that’s the former Soviet Union’s intelligence agency. There are lots of groups out there, but I think the most famous is probably AKB...”
“Ohhh! Shihoru, you really know what you’re talkin’ about, huh? Then what was the one with zaka in it? Dogenzaka...?”
“That’s the name of a place in Shibuya...”
“You know, if you go lookin’ in Shibuya, there’re probably idols there, right? It’s kinda trendy.”
“W-Well, there might be some...”
Merii wanted to help Shihoru in her moment of weakness. For that, she needed the right answer. I have to come up with the right answer as soon as possible, Merii thought, and it came to her.
“Kagurazaka?”
“Th-That’s a famous place, right?” Shihoru said. “With lots of nice restaurants, I think... But I don’t think it has anything to do with idols...”
“Numa!” Yume suddenly exclaimed.
“N-Numa...?”
“Yume, she may’ve got it! Yume’s heard of this one before! In life, they say there are three sakas!”
“What... are they?” Merii tried asking, just in case.
Yume acted all special, humming nasally.
“Get this: they’re noborizaka, kudarizaka, and massakasama! That’s right!”
“It’s not massakasama, it’s masaka, Yume...” Shihoru said.
“Hoh? You sure?”
“When things are going well, that’s noborizaka, climbing the hill.
When nothing does well for you, that’s kudarizaka, going down hill. But if you keep on living, the unexpected will happen, so... that’s masaka, the unexpected.”
“Mwohhhhh! Shihoru, you really know a lot! But, you know, no matter what you do, don’t you think there are times when things’ll end up gettin’ turned massakasama, upside-down?”
“...I think so.”
“Well, then, there are four sakas in life, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think it matters how many sakas there are in this case, really.”
“So there are lots of them, then? In that case, life’s full of hills!” Yume exclaimed.
It felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Merii clasped her chest and hung her head. “Deep. Life is full of hills. You may be right...”
“Right? Yume, when she goes home, it’s all hill roads, you know? It’s fine when she’s full of energy, but there are times when she’s feelin’ tired, too. It’s real hard then.”
“Hills are especially hard when you’re on a bicycle.” Merii slapped her own thighs. They hurt a little. She’d strained herself too hard. “You feel it in your legs.”
“That’s it!” Yume snapped her fingers—was that what it was called? She rubber the middle finger and thumb of her right hand together, but there was just a rubbing sound. “...Kwoh!”
“Like this?” Shihoru made a proper snapping sound.
Yume’s eyes sparkled. “That’s it! Shihoru, you’re amazin’! You can do anythin’!”
“Huh...? No... This is easy. It’s too much to say that I can do anything.”
“You’re very capable, Shihoru.” Merii nodded firmly. “You’re reserved, so you don’t show it off, but you can do anything.”
“Th-Th-Tha... That’s... not... true...”
“It is so true! Shihoru, you’re Yume and everyone’s idol!”
“Wh-Wh-Whoa, s-s-stop, it’s embarrassing...”
“But, you know, Shihoru, you’re our idol, okay? You agree, right, Merii?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Merii said.
“Even you, Merii...”
“By the way, what were we talking about again?” Merii went on.
“Hoh?” Yume picked at her nails, thinking for a while, but she couldn’t remember. “Well, it doesn’t matter! ’Cause Yume’s got herself an idol!”
Merii nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
Scene #15: I Will Not Give Up
Years ago, before his grandmother passed away, she would always say to him, “Monzo, ever since you were small as a bean, you’ve loved eating. No matter how mad a mood you were in, if we just gave you food, you’d smile. When you were left with me, you never caused any trouble at all.”
Maybe it was because of that, but his parents, grandparents, other relatives, and even the neighbors were always giving Monzo food. Monzo, of course, happily ate it all. Thanks to that, even though his parents and little sister had a slim build, Monzo had been chubby since he was very young.
But was he okay like this? After a long time quietly worrying about that, he decided to exercise, and began attending a judo class. When he moved his body, the food tasted even better, so he ended up eating even more. It was all meaningless.

That said, it wouldn’t be right to stop the judo classes he’d started of his own volition, so he committed to controlling the amount he ate. If he lost too much too fast, the recoil might become too great. When he went from three bowls of rice down to two, his health declined visibly. He got abdominal cramps, his face lost its luster, and his voice grew weak. His family got worried, and when he confessed he was actually dieting, they cried. His sister’s words hit him especially hard.
“I want you to be the same big brother you’ve always been!”
Thus, it had been over two years since Monzo had given up on his dream of a slim body type forever.
His motto became, “Food makes the man, thus a man is his food.”
After entering high school, Monzo started a part-time job. Naturally, for the food.
In Monzo’s house, it wasn’t just his mother who cooked—his father did, too. Also, it was only to be expected that Monzo cooked, too. His little sister also helped.
He wouldn’t brag about it, but Monzo’s family’s cooking was delicious. It was so good that his cousin would bring her friends over to eat, and they’d take pictures to put on social media where they’d praise it enthusiastically. His parent’s coworkers and friends would come over often, too. Everyone brought large amounts of ingredients, sweets, and wine, then enjoy Monzo’s family’s cooking before they went home.
However, one who is committed to food, one who has strong opinions on cooking, can sense intuitively when they are setting foot into the domain of experts, learning things no amateur could ever know.
To turn that around, one who had not reached that domain could not be called an expert.
There is a need, when people say your cooking is good enough to be in a restaurant, that you have pro-level skills, to recognize that these are only the opinions of amateurs. You must never let them go to your head. Monzo had no intention of going easy on his tongue. The joy of food he experienced at home, and the absolute gourmet bliss an expert could produce in him were, in fact, different things. In order to keep himself aware of that difference, he would go, clutching his hard-earned part-time money, to the most expert of restaurants he could find.
“Heh... Well, I just want to eat something good, that’s all, right?” Whispering to himself, he turned the corner.
This restaurant, founded in 1989, the first year of the Heisei Era, had left behind countless legends and was famous among those in the know.
Its name: Heisei-ken.
It was a little ramen shop run by a family, with no website. He’d heard they rejected all forms of interviews. The only information he could find online was the opening and closing times, regularly scheduled days off, and the reviews of gourmands. It was a two-hour commute by train, including multiple transfers, from Monzo’s house. This was not a place a high schooler could visit easily. This would be his first time.
He checked his smartphone. 5:59 P.M. They opened from noon to 2:00 P.M. during the day, and from 6:00 to 9:00 at night. They would open soon. Their day off each week was Wednesday, and this was Thursday, which meant that they were open for business, baby.
“Baby...” he murmured.
Heh heh! Monzo laughed.
Having at last reached Heisei-ken, the place he had longed to visit,
Monzo’s eyes were greeted by the closed shutters. A single piece of paper was affixed to them, the small text on it written in permanent marker. Ahh, how many times, how many times had this sort of thing happened to him? Yes, this was nothing more than a common occurrence.
Calm down, Monzo. These things happen. It’s all right. It’s okay. Now, read slowly, as if savoring each word.
“Closed today due to emergency...”
Monzo gave a mental pep talk to his body as it was ready to collapse, and then made a firm vow.
Let’s come back another time.
 


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Copyright
Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash: Volume 14 by Ao Jyumonji
Translated by Sean McCann
Edited by Emily Sorensen
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Ao Jyumonji Illustrations by Eiri Shirai All rights reserved.

Chapter end