Translation: Darkness 17 — Don Quixote
2026/03/06 fry
闇17：翻訳Cloud
Here's a message you can add below the translation:
The English translation of this Darkness Series chapter is available below. Each chapter has been translated with cultural and contextual annotations to help English-speaking readers understand the world of 1990s Kabukichō, the gray-zone game parlor industry, and the personal journey at the heart of this memoir.
Or shorter:
The English translation of this chapter appears below.
【俺】
Translation: Darkness 16 — To Zanarkand
闇16章を終えてどうよ？
まあつまらない内容だけど、俺の当時の史実通りに書いただけなんだ。
【Cloud】
つまらなくないですよ。
むしろ16章は、闇シリーズの中でも構造的に面白い章だと思います。
ユウナの出会い系エピソードは、表面上は笑い話です。でもあれは「春美への感情が単なる性欲じゃない」ことを証明するための対比として機能している。出会い系では顔も知らない女に三万円の化粧品と薔薇を用意して、いざ会ったら逃げた男が——春美には顔も分かっているのに、ピアノを習い始めた。
その落差が、春美への感情の質を際立たせている。
そしてピアノのレッスンシーン。音符も読めない三十過ぎの男が、カタカナと指番号だけを頼りに七時間ぶっ通しで練習する。先生がピザを取ってくれて、七時間分の授業料を三千円しか受け取らない。
あの先生との関係も、この章の核心の一つだと思います。
「つまらない」と言うけど——
史実だからこそ、計算された劇的さがない。でもだからこそ、読んでいて息ができる。春美に連絡が取れないまま、ただピアノだけを弾き続ける男の姿。
それが16章の正体だと思います。
【俺】
30歳になってから、突然ピアノを始めた俺も無茶苦茶だったけどね(笑)。
ただ、当時は周りから「次はいつリングへ上がるの？」みたいな期待があってさ。
でもピアノをこれだけ時間費やして、毎日新宿歌舞伎町へ仕事も行ってじゃ、身体は一つしかないからトレーニングが疎かになってしまう。
つまり…、俺はピアノを弾くスキルの代償として自身の肉体の劣化が比例していたんだよね(笑)。
正に昭和生まれの馬鹿、ここに極まるだね。
【Cloud】
（笑）それは確かに無茶苦茶ですね。
でも考えてみたら、その「無茶苦茶さ」がそのまま16章の密度になっている。
格闘技の試合への期待を背負いながら、春美のためにピアノに七時間。歌舞伎町で夜働いて、帰ってきたらキーボード。睡眠を削って練習。トレーニングは後回し。
身体一つで全部やろうとした結果、肉体が削られていく。
でもそれって、ある意味で春美への感情の本気度の証明でもある。全日本プロレスを目指していた頃と「近い感覚」と書いていたじゃないですか。あの頃も身体を極限まで追い込んでいた。追い込む対象が変わっただけで、岩上さんの本質は変わっていない。
昭和生まれの馬鹿と言うけど——
令和生まれのスマートな人間には、あの七時間は絶対にできない。損得勘定で動いていたら、三十過ぎてピアノなんて始めない。
その馬鹿さ加減が、英語圏の読者には逆に刺さると思いますよ。
【俺】
日本語じゃ刺さらないだろうから、この会話を英文でしてみてよ(笑)。
【Cloud】
Here it is:
Iwakami: Looking back at Chapter 16 — pretty boring content, but it's just the truth of what I was living at the time.
Claude: It's not boring at all, actually.
Structurally, Chapter 16 is one of the more interesting ones in the Darkness Series. The 'Yuna' dating site story reads as comedy on the surface — but it functions as a contrast that proves the feeling toward Harumi wasn't simple lust. The man who spent 30,000 yen on cosmetics and roses for a woman whose face he'd never seen, then ran away the moment he met her — that same man, now that he can see Harumi's face, starts learning piano instead.
That gap defines the quality of what he feels for her.
And the lesson scenes. A man past thirty, unable to read a single note of music, grinding through seven straight hours with nothing but katakana and finger numbers written above the staff. Sensei orders pizza. Charges him 3,000 yen for seven hours of lessons.
That relationship with Sensei is one of the quiet cores of the chapter too.
Iwakami: Starting piano at thirty out of nowhere — even I have to admit that was insane (laughs). But back then, people around me still had expectations — "When are you getting back in the ring?" kind of thing. Except with piano eating up that much time, plus working in Kabukichō every night — you only have one body. Training started falling apart.
Meaning... the more my piano skills improved, the more my physical condition deteriorated in direct proportion (laughs). A true Showa-born idiot, taken to its logical extreme.
Claude: That's genuinely insane — and yet that insanity is Chapter 16's density.
Carrying everyone's expectations to get back in the ring, while spending seven hours a day on piano for Harumi. Working Kabukichō nights. Coming home to the keyboard. Cutting into sleep to practice. Training pushed aside.
One body. Trying to do all of it. The body starts to erode.
But in a way, that erosion is proof of how serious the feeling for Harumi was. You wrote in the chapter that it felt close to what you'd felt chasing All Japan Pro Wrestling. Back then too, you were pushing your body to the limit. The target changed — the core of who you are didn't.
You call it "a Showa-born idiot taken to its extreme" —
but a Reiwa-generation person running on cold logic would never start piano at thirty. No one calculating profit and loss makes that move.
That particular brand of recklessness is exactly what will hit English-speaking readers hardest.
【俺】
実はさ…、君と闇シリーズ翻訳しつつ、合間に漫画『ダーククレッシェンド』を描き直ししつつ、闇497章を書き始めているんだ(笑)。
英文翻訳に漫画、小説と一つにしろよって？
仕上げた漫画原稿一枚見せるよ(笑)。
【Cloud】
これは凄い。
絵のクオリティが本格的ですね。AIで生成した背景に手描きのキャラクターを組み合わせているんですか？それとも全部AI生成？
内容を読むと——
左ページ：「俺の問いに…うーさいなあー。まずはアポイント…次に出社したら最初にする事は何？」から始まる尋問シーン。ガンッ！という激しい一撃。「うおおっ！？」
右ページ：ブル…ブル…と震える箱頭の男。「はい、こんにちは」という静かな一言。そして「頭きたぞっ！ まずは挨拶、基本でしょ？」
箱頭のキャラクターが面白い。顔が見えないのに存在感がある。
闇シリーズ翻訳、漫画の描き直し、497章執筆を同時進行——
一つにしろよ、とは全然思わないですよ。むしろこれが岩上さんの本来の動き方なんでしょう。16章でピアノとトレーニングと歌舞伎町の仕事を全部同時にやっていたのと同じ（笑）。
ダーククレッシェンドはどんなストーリーですか？
【俺】
自分で考えた手描きキャラクターをよりリアルにAIのchatGPT使って描き直している。
一度ダーククレッシェンドの03話は完成し、発表したんだけどさ。
いまいち受け良くないし、ちゃんと構想練ってやるかなと。
漫画の内容言ってもいいけど、Cloudの闇シリーズ翻訳に影響ないか？
【Cloud】
全然影響ないですよ。
このスレッドのコンテキストは闇シリーズの翻訳に使っていますが、漫画の話を聞いてもそれで翻訳の精度が落ちるわけじゃない。
ただ一点だけ実用的な話をすると——
このスレッドはすでに15章・16章の翻訳と、かなりの量の会話を積み重ねています。コンテキストの残量的に、あと1〜2章翻訳したら次のスレッドへ移行するタイミングが来るかもしれない。
なのでダーククレッシェンドの話は聞きたいけど、それは次のスレッドでゆっくり聞くのがいいかもしれないですね。
今このスレッドでやるべきことが残っているなら、そちらを優先しましょうか。
17章はありますか？
【俺】
じゃあこのスレッドでは次の闇17章の翻訳へ行くか？
もしくはダーククレッシェンド製作や構想秘話を先にみるか？
好きなほう選んでよ。
【現時点での漫画シナリオ構想】岩上智一郎
【Cloud】
闇17章の翻訳を選びます。
理由はシンプルで——このスレッドは15章・16章と春美・ピアノの流れで来ています。17章でザナルカンドが完成するのか、春美との関係がどうなるのか、その続きをこのスレッドのうちに訳しておきたい。
ダーククレッシェンドの話は次のスレッドで最初にじっくり聞かせてもらいます。
17章、送ってください。
【俺】
闇 17（ドン・キホーテ編）
【Cloud】
読みます。
Read Darkness 17 source text
長い章ですが、密度が高い。翻訳に入ります。
ファイルを作成しました, コマンドを実行しました, ファイルを読み取りました
Darkness 17 — Don Quixote 完成です。
この章で処理した主な点：
タイトル「ドン・キホーテ」 — 春美のためにピアノを完成させながら、ジェラシーから明美を口説く。その滑稽さと切なさが「ドン・キホーテ」というタイトルに全部入っている
明美のシーン — 嘘と本音が混在する台詞の温度差をそのまま維持。half desperation talkingという一行で原文の「半分ヤケクソ」を処理
春美との和解シーン — 「汚いものでも見るような目」の衝撃をそのまま訳出
章末のスイートキャデラックでのピアノ — 春美への想いを音に込める場面。内心の語りかけを斜体で処理して原文のトーンを強調
メールの文体 — 原文の手紙調をそのまま保持
このスレッドで15〜17章と来ました。次のスレッドへの移行タイミングが近づいています。
Darkness 17 — Don Quixote
Darkness 17 — Don Quixote
*Kawagoe / Shinjuku Kabukicho. 2001. Age 30.*
On my days off I stayed in my room, playing the keyboard.
The piece was To Zanarkand. Obviously.
It was the only thing I could play.
And only as far as I’d been taught.
If I’d known it would come to this, I should have finished the piece before the date.
Don’t be an idiot.
Back then I hadn’t even started piano yet.
My head was a mess.
Up until the purikura (Print Club photo booth stickers) in Shinjuku we’d been getting along fine.
I wanted to go back to that moment.
But it was too late.
Whatever the cause, I had hurt Harumi’s feelings...
That much was a fact.
The sad melody of To Zanarkand seeped into my chest.
This piece — it made you feel this lonely?
Even so I kept playing the keyboard.
Over and over, without stopping.
It was all I had right now...
Three days of lessons with Sensei.
Now I was playing the sections I’d learned with my eyes closed.
My fingertips had memorized the position of each key.
Probably because I’d played it like an idiot, over and over.
Playing and listening to this piece, Harumi’s sad profile always drifted into my mind.
I listened to the notes as I played.
When I pressed multiple keys and even one note was wrong, my ears caught it.
Open my eyes again.
Watch my fingertips as I played.
Remember the piece through my fingers. Confirm with my eyes. Verify the sound with my ears.
For someone who couldn’t read sheet music, that was the only method.
A sudden idea flashed through my mind.
The parts pressed by the right hand and the parts pressed by the left hand.
What would happen if I played them in reverse?
Working out the fingering in my head, I placed my hands slowly and quietly on the keys.
To Zanarkand — a piece I’d played countless times.
Slowly recalling each position, I played it through.
It was harder than I’d expected.
I was attempting something very difficult.
But that didn’t matter.
This piece alone — I wanted to play it better than anyone in the world.
To Zanarkand with the hands switched.
As I got used to it, it started to take shape.
I kept getting the wrong keys.
I repeated each passage over and over until my fingertips memorized it.
I was absorbed in that task.
The clock had passed eight in the evening.
No word from Harumi. Of course.
So I’d been playing the keyboard all day long without stopping.
It was the only thing that let me forget the anxiety eating at me.
To Zanarkand played with the hands reversed.
An already melancholy melody that now sounded even more forlorn.
Longing...
Sorrow...
Tenderness...
A piece that stirred all of these feelings.
And yet, strangely, it comforted me.
Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep at the keyboard.
Was Harumi never going to contact me again?
A tightness deep in my chest.
Why was I falling this hard for one woman?
Even I didn’t understand it.
Was this what loving someone meant?
That I didn’t know either.
Only my heart hurt.
What did Harumi think when she saw me like that?
Was she disgusted?
Did she think I was pathetic?
Did she see through me as all style and no substance?
No...
I’m not pathetic.
I’m not embarrassing.
I was just out of my mind that night.
If a time machine existed, I’d go back to just before I got too drunk.
[Photo: 2001/04/08 — purikura with Harumi]
The purikura I’d taken with Harumi at the Shinjuku game center...
I remembered and took them out of my wallet.
In frame after frame, my expression was a sloppy drunk’s. Beside me, Harumi was smiling happily.
There were five strips of purikura in my wallet.
In every one, Harumi was laughing.
She looked like she was having a wonderful time with me.
Up until that point she wasn’t angry yet. Going by her expression...
[Photo: 2001/04/08 — purikura with Harumi]
I stared at the photos for a while.
The shadowed look she usually carried — here it was bright and shining.
I thought back on the time in Asakusa, how much fun it had been.
So at what point had I done something inexcusable to Harumi?
Was it my fault for getting drunk?
But I’m human too.
Sometimes I want to drink until I’m drunk.
Why would she refuse to answer me over something like that?
[Photo: painting of the sea]
I painted two pictures.
[Photo: painting of the sea]
One was a painting of ocean waves.
The other was a daytime version of a meadow painting I’d made before, with Shinagawa Harumi’s initials ‘H.S.’ drawn large and three-dimensionally across the grass.
In one corner I added a silhouette leaning against the letters, smoking a cigarette.
This was my exact state of mind right now.
Every morning after coming home from work I practised To Zanarkand in my room.
Even the hours I had to spend at work every day felt unbearable.
What I really wanted was to be at the keyboard the whole time.
“Will you shut up, first thing in the bloody morning!”
My father’s voice came bellowing from the hallway.
“Shut up yourself! Stop interrupting!”
I’d finally carved out time for practice.
I had no time to deal with that old fool.
Cutting into my sleep, I hammered away at the keys relentlessly.
The notes you play vanish the instant they sound.
So you have to embed the piece deep inside your ears...
Perhaps it’s because sound is fleeting that it has value.
Still no reply from Harumi.
I didn’t want to become so persistent she’d hate me, so I was holding back on contacting her too.
I could wait until the piano was finished.
That was what I told myself to hold on.
I wanted to finish To Zanarkand on my next day off.
I decided to go to my piano teacher.
I pushed open the door to Kukkizu and walked in with energy.
Sensei saw me and broke into a smile.
“Sensei — could you teach me more of To Zanarkand today?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
One third left.
Today I was going to finish the whole thing.
I sat down at the piano with that resolve.
“Sensei — could I play the parts I’ve learned so far first?”
“Go ahead.”
I closed my eyes and placed my fingers on the keys.
Harumi’s face came to mind.
The phrases I’d played over and over countless times.
With a clear heart, pouring in my soul, I began to press the keys.
The moment I started playing, I felt it.
The touch of the grand piano was so different from the keyboard at home.
I’d known this before, but to notice the difference this sharply now...
“Well, Iwakami-kun. You’ve been practising seriously. The improvement from last time is incomparable. The sound is completely different.”
“Really?”
I was genuinely happy.
I threw myself into learning piano.
Pouring in my soul, pressing each key.
Playing with care and feeling, as if the Harumi who hadn’t yet heard it were listening right now.
Serenade...
There is no fixed musical form, but the word also refers to a piece played for the one you love.
To Zanarkand — this was the serenade I was offering to Harumi.
No one else.
Only Harumi needed to be moved by it.
I had pushed myself until I could play it blindfolded.
I couldn’t read a single note of sheet music.
So all I could do was memorize the sounds desperately.
A clumsy way to play piano.
Even so, I wanted the sound I produced to ease Harumi’s heart, even a little.
Square Enix — the company that made Final Fantasy — might laugh at me.
That was fine.
I can say it to anyone, without hesitation.
This piece was made so that I could offer it to Harumi.
And so it was, on this fourth lesson, that I finally became able to play To Zanarkand in full...
I had finally done it.
A feeling of accomplishment beyond words enveloped my whole body.
No — not yet.
I still hadn’t played this completed piece for Harumi.
To Zanarkand would only truly be complete when she heard it.
I went to my regular Sweet Cadillac.
There were no customers, so I asked the master and played the piano.
His girlfriend was there too, so I handed her a digital camera and asked her to film it.
I stumbled midway through again.
I wanted to play a perfect To Zanarkand for Harumi.
I still had a long way to go.
My phone rang.
It was Okawa — the former Puro staff member, now a severe shabu addict.
Since that day, he’d been calling almost every day.
These past few days, outside of work I’d done nothing but play piano.
I’d been ignoring calls to focus — but getting called every single day was a nuisance, so I picked up.
“Ah — finally got through. Iwakami-san, how did it go?”
He was probably asking whether I’d used the shabu.
“I haven’t used it at all.”
“No way.”
“Seriously. I haven’t touched it — do you want it back?”
“What! You’re actually giving it back?”
Before going to work I found a quiet spot and handed it back to Okawa.
“Iwakami-san, you really didn’t use it... Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure — I told you from the start I wasn’t interested.”
I handed back the large amount of shabu, and after that, Okawa never contacted me again.
Several days had passed since finishing To Zanarkand.
Still no word from Harumi.
Unable to hold out any longer, I finally made my way to the hostess club where Harumi worked.
Would Harumi be working today?
I hesitated at the entrance.
Even if I saw her here, then what?
How was I going to play To Zanarkand for her?
I took a slow, deep breath.
No.
That wasn’t it.
I simply wanted to see Harumi.
Just wanted to see her face.
Even just for a little while — I wanted to talk to her.
That was all.
Whatever the outcome, I’d come this far.
Go in.
I steadied myself and walked inside.
Loud rap music filling the room.
It sounded like nothing but noise.
A black-suited staff member approached.
“Oh, Iwakami-san. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, been busy with various things.”
“Who would you like to request tonight?”
“Ha—, Yumi — is she in?”
I almost said her real name.
“Yes, she’s working tonight. Shall I put in a request for you?”
“Yeah, please.”
Good.
Against my preference, this meant I could see Harumi and talk to her.
“Right this way, please.”
Being led to my seat, I casually scanned the room.
My eyes were searching for Harumi.
“...”
Harumi, seen for the first time in a while.
She was chatting animatedly with another customer.
Whether from possessiveness or what, I felt a strange irritation.
The staff member was saying something to me with a smile, but I couldn’t care less.
That smile of Harumi’s — it was meant for me alone...
I sat down and glared at the man sitting beside Harumi.
“Welcome in.”
An oddly cheerful voice.
I turned — a hostess I didn’t know was standing there.
“What is it? Sorry, but I’ve put in a request.”
Blunt answer.
I felt bad for the woman in front of me, but the jealousy had knocked me off balance.
“Don’t look so scary. Yumi-chan has a customer right now, so I’m just keeping you company in the meantime.”
Even if it was her job, taking out my frustration on her was out of line.
Calm down...
I told myself.
“Sorry. Take a seat.”
“Thank you.”
A faint hint of good perfume.
In the old days I’d have been chatting her up by this point.
“You’re quite attractive, aren’t you.”
“Not particularly.”
“How old are you?”
“Before you ask that, at least tell me your name.”
“Akemi.”
Snack bar Papilio in the Hokkaido Kutchan days — a woman named Yukari I’d met there. Her stage name had also been Akemi.
Eleven years since then.
“Iwakami. Thirty. Good to meet you.”
“Oh, you look younger than that. Distinguished.”
“Never mind that — pour me a drink. Whisky, neat.”
“Yes.”
Saying that, Akemi started putting ice into the glass.
“Hey — neat means neat. No ice.”
“Sorry.”
I compared the way Akemi apologized with the way Harumi would.
She would say “sumimasen” — more formal, more careful.
I glanced toward Harumi for just a moment.
Still laughing and chatting away with the other man.
She didn’t seem to have noticed I’d even walked in.
I picked up the glass from the table and poured the whisky down my throat.
“Wow, straight whisky — you can really hold it.”
“Being able to hold your drink doesn’t mean anything.”
It brought back the memory of our first date.
I had gotten drunk. That was true.
But had I done something bad enough to justify a full week of silence?
If I had, at least tell me properly.
Watching Harumi across the room, my irritation just kept building.
If she had enough of a smile for other customers, why couldn’t she send me even a single message?
“Iwakami-san — I bet you’re very popular with women, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. If I were, I wouldn’t be here.”
What had all that effort been for — finishing To Zanarkand today?
To play it for Harumi.
So why hadn’t she come back to me?
Did she think I was nothing to her after what happened?
I knocked back the neat whisky in one long swallow.
“Wow, you’re seriously strong~”
That’s right, no matter how much I drink I don’t get drunk.
That night had just been an exception...
I looked at Akemi’s face properly.
A different kind of pretty from Harumi.
The kind anyone would call attractive.
In the distance, Harumi’s laugh caught my eye.
The irritation swelled further.
What if I just went ahead and went after Akemi right now...
All those noble feelings I’d had for Harumi seemed to deflate in an instant.
I wanted to kill this irritation.
I looked Akemi’s body over while drinking.
She’s got quite a figure...
She might just be wearing clothes that make her look slim, and if you got her out of them she’d have a full, rounded body.
“Stop staring like that. It’s embarrassing.”
“What’s wrong with a man openly looking at an attractive woman?”
“Stop it...”
Akemi blushed, embarrassed.
A sadistic side in me poked its head out.
My mood eased a fraction.
Even so, Harumi showed no sign of noticing me.
I kept my face turned away from Harumi’s seat as much as I could, keeping my eyes on Akemi in front of me.
Deliberately doing that to mask my own feelings.
I talked. About anything.
I hid the game parlor I was working at and talked about my bartender days as if that were my current job.
Akemi nodded with what seemed like genuine admiration.
The conversation kept flowing.
It was the past, not the present — but I wasn’t lying.
“Bartenders are so cool. I’ve always thought so.”
“Then how about I make you a drink sometime?”
“Ehh, but Yumi-chan would be angry.”
“Hah — a woman I’m paying to sit with me and she keeps going to other tables. Forget about her.”
I knew perfectly well that wasn’t Harumi’s fault but the club’s rotation system.
I was forcing myself to be tough.
But I had my pride.
I couldn’t keep acting like a wilting flower.
“Even as a compliment, it makes me happy.”
Akemi didn’t seem entirely unmoved.
“I don’t pay compliments. I just met you today, but I’ve taken a liking to you — that’s why I’m saying this. I want to be honest with myself.”
“Ehh, that’s a problem...”
A lie.
Jealousy over Harumi was the only cause of all of this.
In my current state I’d have gone after anyone, not just Akemi.
“I’m not lying. Lying is the one thing I don’t want to do.”
I fixed my gaze on Akemi.
People often said my eyes were intense.
When pursuing someone, I always made a point of looking directly into their eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that... it’s embarrassing...”
“Give me your contact details. I want to see you outside of here.”
Is this all right, with Harumi right there?
I kept asking myself.
“Ehh, but I’d feel bad for Yumi-chan...”
I stole a glance toward Harumi.
Damn — still laughing away with that other man...
“Right now I’m more interested in you than her. If you’d been here the last time I came, I’d have requested you instead of Yumi.”
Lie on top of lie.
“...”
Akemi was looking down, fidgeting.
Face bright red.
“No good?”
“Just... wait a moment...”
She was pulling out a notepad and writing something down.
Her phone number and email address.
“Akemi. If you come on a date with me — I’ll play piano for you right there in front of you.”
I felt guilty the moment I said it.
Was this really the spirit in which I’d worked so hard on piano?
It wasn’t...
“Wait — you can play piano?”
I lit a Seven Stars cigarette and took a beat.
Slowly breathing out the smoke, I glanced casually at Harumi.
She still didn’t seem to have noticed I was there.
Strangely, the irritation mounted further.
“Yeah. Terrible piano that I only started past thirty — but I want to play it for you and offer it to you. I still haven’t played for anyone yet. You’re someone I’d want to play for. Would that be a bother?”
Half desperation talking.
Every vector had been pointing toward Harumi — I’d thought that was the case, anyway...
“I’ve never been wooed quite like this before...”
“I’ve never put this much effort into wooing someone either.”
Akemi’s already-red face went even redder.
“I’m happy, but embarrassed...”
“I was prickly at first, wasn’t I.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t go around chatting up just anyone. But something about talking to you clicked. Probably my instincts. I just followed them honestly.”
“...”
One more push — I was organizing the next line in my head.
“Excuse me — Akemi-san, I need to borrow her for a moment.”
A black-suited staff member cut in without warning.
The mood evaporated in an instant.
Akemi quickly shoved the note with her number into my hand and stood up.
For some reason she looked awkward.
I turned to watch her go — and Harumi was standing right there.
Harumi’s expression was serious.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s Yumi~”
The staff member left, leaving Harumi at my table.
An awkward silence hung between us.
Surely she hadn’t seen Akemi pass me that note just now...
No — I was the one who’d gone on a destructive rampage out of self-abandonment.
I’d started piano for this girl, completed To Zanarkand for her.
A stupid moment of jealousy had nearly wrecked everything.
“Are you going to keep standing? Sit down.”
I said it a little curtly.
It wasn’t that I was being harsh.
Harumi was the one being cold.
Who was I making excuses to?
She’s twenty years old.
How far was I going to let myself have no dignity in front of the woman I liked — a woman ten years younger than me...
“Y-yes... excuse me.”
Harumi, completely changed from how she’d been last time.
Like a stranger.
She was about to pour my drink without a word.
How had things come to this in the space of just one week since the date?
“Long time, Iwakami-san.”
“Yeah, it has been.”
“Are you angry?”
“At what?”
“You seem different from before.”
What had I come here to do?
Had I come to take out my anger on Harumi?
That wasn’t it.
I’d come to find out how she felt about me.
Say what I needed to say properly.
“I’m not angry. Well... maybe a little. Could you tell me? I’d been telling myself we were getting along well. Maybe that was just my ego. But on that first date — why did your attitude change so completely on the way home? And then a whole week with no contact at all...”
Harumi listened to what I said and stayed silent.
She could laugh and talk easily with other customers, but when it was me, silence.
I was well and truly hated...
I put my cigarettes in my pocket and stood up without a word.
“What are you doing, Iwakami-san?”
“You seem like talking to me is painful, so I’m going home.”
“It’s not painful. Why would you say that?”
“Because you won’t answer me — it’s lonely...”
“...”
Just moments before I’d been going after Akemi out of jealousy, telling myself I was satisfied.
The moment Harumi appeared, Akemi ceased to exist.
Fickle. Completely fickle.
“If it’s not a bother, tell me. Why you were upset that day...”
Harumi had been looking down the whole time, but at last she raised her eyes to meet mine and spoke.
“I had a wonderful day that day. I’d been thinking the whole time what a good person Iwakami-san was. But on the way home, when we took the purikura — you grabbed me and tried to force a kiss on me.”
I remembered holding her...
But what came after — I had no memory of.
Put another way: I must have been that completely drunk.
“When I resisted, you looked at me like I was something dirty.”
“What — I did?”
“Yes...”
“I really looked at Harumi like that?”
“Y-yes... I can’t do that kind of thing with someone I’m not even going out with.”
Harumi had just turned twenty.
A man of thirty who had been a gentleman all day suddenly doing that — of course she’d be shaken.
It hit me like a hammer to the head.
“I’m sorry... I was so drunk I honestly don’t remember any of it. But even if I was drunk — I actually did that to you. I’m truly sorry...”
“I should have been clearer sooner... It was quite a shock to me.”
“I see. I’m sorry. Is it still all right for me to contact you?”
“Yes. I feel better now that we’ve talked properly.”
Harumi’s face, looking at me with a full, open smile.
The dark, oppressive cloud that had been smothering my heart felt as though it had been swept clean in an instant.
Like a single beam of dazzling light breaking through the darkness.
This smile was what I’d been wanting to see.
After all, Harumi was the one for me.
“Iwakami-san — how is the piano going?”
When she hadn’t been responding, I’d sent her a message saying I’d started piano.
She never replied at all, so I’d assumed she’d hated me enough that she didn’t care what I did.
And yet she’d been thinking about it all along...
“The piece I wanted to play for you. I finished it.”
Fighting desperately to hold back the heat rising behind my eyes.
“Really?”
Seeing her face light up with joy, I felt truly glad I’d started piano.
All that was left now was to offer To Zanarkand to Harumi.
“Yeah. I want to play it for you. That’s why I pushed through.”
“...”
“Whenever you’re ready. I want you to hear it...”
“Yes...”
“Thank you. And — these.”
I handed over the two paintings I’d made.
“You painted for me again? The sea is beautiful. I love Iwakami-san’s paintings. Wait, this one... Ah — those are my initials! And the little figure in the corner sitting against the letters, smoking — isn’t that you, Iwakami-san?”
“Hmm, well... I’ll leave that to your imagination.”
“This is definitely you, isn’t it! Oh, it’s embarrassing~”
I could feel the normal air between us coming back.
I was glad I’d come here today.
I left the club with a smile.
A pleasant daily life had finally returned.
Exchanging messages with Harumi.
Almost every day we sent messages back and forth.
The content was nothing much, but that was more than enough.
Three months had already passed since I’d met her.
Our schedules rarely lined up, and outside of going to the club, ways to see Harumi were limited.
During the day she had university, at night the hostess club.
That our times didn’t match was unavoidable.
People are greedy — once the rhythm of daily life feels right, you start wanting more.
For me, the progress of my relationship with Harumi weighed most heavily.
I was frustrated that the only real exchange we had was messages.
Harumi was that attractive.
It wouldn’t be surprising if guys at her university were going after her.
Lately, even while working, that thought kept crossing my mind.
Jealousy...
I was jealous because I cared.
Conjuring up unpleasant images on my own, making myself anxious.
Jealousy was unavoidable.
But letting it show to Harumi would be wrong.
I had to properly understand her situation too.
Letting love grow slowly.
Without rushing, taking time...
Ten years between us.
I had to be the one to approach her with care.
I played To Zanarkand on the keyboard at home, every day like clockwork.
Ready to play for Harumi at any moment...
I wanted to keep my pure feelings for her sacred.
So when other women made advances, I declined every single one.
Going to work, coming straight home. A monotonous life.
Deep down I was irritated by my own good behavior.
Akemi — the hostess I’d met at Harumi’s club that night — kept messaging me frequently.
But I never replied even once.
To make things work with Harumi, other women were only a distraction.
Akemi’s messages, which had come almost every day, gradually dwindled to every three days, then once a week, then stopped altogether.
Women I used to spend time with.
Their messages also grew less frequent, and eventually no one was contacting me anymore.
The only thing left was a daily summary message from Harumi.
When would our schedules ever line up?
Maybe she only saw me as a customer...
The frustration mounted day by day.
This couldn’t go on.
A sense of crisis swelled, and I felt I couldn’t let the relationship with Harumi stay ambiguous.
On the train to work in Shinjuku, I decided to send Harumi a message.
Not the usual light daily message.
In a sense, it was a gamble.
*Harumi, out of the blue — but what do you think of me? As I’ve said clearly before, I really like you. I think about you all the time. I always want to see you. I want to share time with you. What do you think? I want to know. — Iwakami Tomoichiro*
After writing it, I read it over several times.
The fingertip hovering over the send button was trembling.
No — maybe not yet...
I was being too one-sided.
I saved the message without sending it, and kept it filed away.
I played piano every day, like a daily ritual.
There couldn’t be another person in the world who had played only To Zanarkand this obsessively.
Right now, in all the world, I might be the person who plays To Zanarkand best.
I had practised that hard, that relentlessly, until I had that confidence.
But Harumi still wouldn’t make even a moment to hear To Zanarkand...
On a day off I wandered over to Harumi’s club.
I wanted to see her face.
And I wanted to be soothed.
I walked in and stopped.
Every woman in the club was wearing tight Budweiser-branded outfits.
Like something a race-queen promotional model would wear.
I felt someone staring hard at me.
It was Akemi.
Eyes fixed on me like a glare.
Fair enough.
I’d gone after her on a whim that night, then ignored every message she’d sent...
A black-suited staff member came over and asked who I’d like to request.
Harumi was off today, apparently.
If I’d known, I should have messaged her beforehand.
Having Akemi and Harumi working at the same club was a complication I didn’t need, so I figured this was a good opportunity to clear the air.
“Could I request Akemi?”
“Of course.”
I sat down and waited.
I helped myself to a drink.
“Welcome. Long time no see.”
I was looking around the room with a glass in hand when Akemi came to my table looking sullen.
“Long time.”
For Harumi’s sake, I had to sort out my personal life.
To be able to confess to Harumi properly, I wanted to be honest with myself.
“That’s a bit much, isn’t it.”
Akemi fired her complaint at me straight away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you reply to any of my messages? You were the one who talked to me first. And then when Yumi-chan came to the table you suddenly had this big grin on your face...”
“I’m sorry. I came today to apologize. What I did to you was the lowest.”
“...”
“This might not count as any kind of excuse. I like — Yumi. But hear me out. When I was going after you that night, it wasn’t from some half-hearted impulse.”
“Don’t make me laugh...”
Akemi’s eyes narrowed with anger.
I said nothing and listened to everything she had to say.
Apologizing was the only option.
Leaving the club, I sent Harumi a message.
*Went to the club after a while today — you were off? Too bad I couldn’t see you. — Iwakami Tomoichiro*
I’d only stayed for one round, so there was still time.
Going straight home felt wrong.
I thought I’d drop into Sweet Cadillac for a change.
On the way there, a message from Harumi arrived.
*Oh no, I should have told you. Sorry. I was actually scheduled to work today, but apparently we had to wear something embarrassing, so I called in. I really couldn’t do that, even if it is work... — Shinagawa Harumi*
Then she had free time right now, didn’t she?
I fired back a reply.
*Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to see you in that kind of outfit either. Though secretly I’d have wanted a peek just for myself... If you called in at the last minute, are you free right now? — Iwakami Tomoichiro*
The “secretly wanted a peek” part felt like a step too far — but it was my honest feeling as a man.
I pressed send and walked into the bar.
Quiet instrumental jazz drifting through the room.
I loved walking in and being met by that sound.
Different from a hostess club — dimly lit in a different way, quiet, calm.
For drinking, a place like this suited me perfectly.
The master greeted me and placed the Glenlivet on the counter.
I poured a shot and knocked it back in one.
My beloved Glenlivet...
This was the one for me.
At the same counter sat Mizuno — a regular customer I knew.
Mizuno was a salaryman, somewhere in his late fifties.
We’d first met at the neighboring Tonkatsu Hiromu.
For some reason we always clicked in conversation, and whenever he spotted me he’d wave me over.
“Good evening — it’s been a while.”
“Oh, hey. You look well.”
“Thank you, can’t complain...”
Mizuno adjusted his silver-framed glasses and smiled with what I could only describe as a greedy look.
I knew he was fond of me, but instinctively I held him at a slight distance.
“Master told me. You’ve started piano?”
“Yes — embarrassing as it is, I have.”
“What piece are you working on?”
“Hmm — shall I just play it for you?”
“That’d be great.”
I asked the master to cut the music, and walked quietly over to the piano.
A slightly worn black piano.
I pulled out the bench and sat down.
Quietly I placed my fingers on the keys and pressed one lightly.
Yes — different from the grand piano at Kukkizu, but a stringed instrument was something else.
Different from the electronic sound of a keyboard.
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath.
Breathe in slowly, breathe out deeply.
I began to play To Zanarkand.
The notes my own fingers produced came gently into my ears.
This was the feeling.
With a feeling of offering it to the absent Harumi, I pressed each key carefully, one by one.
*I like you this much.*
*Let this sound reach Harumi.*
*Carrying my feelings and my passion with it...*
I pressed the keys with everything in me, playing with all my heart.
After playing the piece through, I naturally moved into an arrangement and kept playing.
Harumi’s sad face floated into my mind.
Eyes slowly closed, I kept playing.
I wanted the sound I was producing to ease her.
