31 August, Tomihiko Morimi

文字数 2,974文字

Fireworks


Tonight I just don’t have the energy to do anything.
  So I mean to get through it on sheer intention.
  First, I mean to prepare a glorious dinner. The intention is for us both to get nice and full. I mean to have you do the dishes. While you do that, I mean to fold the laundry and heat up the bath.
  But we can’t just go to sleep like that—I’m not quite satisfied.
  How about a nighttime stroll?
  When you make that suggestion, I mean to agree.
  When we leave the apartment complex, the breeze might be chillier than we expect. The intention is for us to walk together through the quiet neighborhood. Past the shopping arcade at night, past the library at night, past the park at night. Maybe we share childhood memories of summer.
  You’ll probably say, I want a Ramune.
  The intention is to find a little festival on the edge of town. Wouldn’t the festival of a small shrine be nice, where only the locals gather? With some stalls for things like shaved ice and cotton candy. You’ll be delighted and pick up a Ramune. You were just wanting to drink one, after all. But as you’re making the glass marble clink-clink in the bottle, I get separated from you.
  Why? That’s just how festivals go. Someone always gets lost in the crowd. . . .
  I’m standing in a grassy expanse behind the shrine. Off in the distance, a night train runs by. And hanging in the dark, starless sky is a brilliant rainbow. Like frozen fireworks, like an omen of an ending world. It’s so beautiful, and so sinister, that I’m rooted to the spot as if paralyzed by the mystical power of a mountain ascetic, my breath taken utterly away. Before long, I hear a little clink behind me. You’ve come and found me; you call my name.
  I reach into the darkness and grab your hand.
  Here I am. I’m here.
  And then we return from our nighttime walk.
  The next day comes, and the day after that; a week goes by, then a month, then a year, then ten years, and I mean to spend them all happily together. But sometimes I see that rainbow. It appears as if in the present, right before my eyes. And I suddenly wonder: Had I really come back? Or did I just mean to? Is this contented life only my intention?
  Is it possible that I’m still in that field looking up at the rainbow in the dark?


Translated by Emily Balistrieri/Arranged by TranNet KK

Tomihiko Morimi
Born in Nara Prefecture, 1979. Graduated from Kyoto University’s Faculty of Agriculture and later its Graduate School of Agriculture. Won Grand Prize at the Japan Fantasy Novel Award in 2003 for his debut novel

Taiyō

no

tō

(Tower of the sun), the Yamamoto Shūgorō Prize in 2007 for

The

Night

Is

Short,

Walk

On

Girl

and the 2010 Nihon SF Taishō Award for

Penguin

Highway

. His main works include

Yojōhan

shinwa

taikei

(The tatami galaxy),

Uchōten

kazoku

(The eccentric family),

Yakō

(Endless night), and

Nettai

(The tropics), among others.

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文字サイズ
  • 特大
背景色
  • 生成り
  • 水色
フォント
  • 明朝
  • ゴシック
組み方向
  • 横組み
  • 縦組み