Yes, it was a huge but visible, easily understood fear, this uncertainty. I even may have wanted it like that. Compared to the daily uncertainties, which steadily tortured me little by little, this drug-induced depression even may have been pleasurable.
Yamazaki turned toward the refrigerator and swung his fist.
“Dammit, if you’re going to do it, then come on! I’ll face you!” It seemed Yamazaki was confronting an imaginary opponent over there.
I, however, sat trembling in the corner, holding my head and pulling up my legs tight to my chest.
“Stop! Don’t come over here!” The enemy was close. Despite my fear, I was somehow having fun. Being chased and killed by villains was a thrilling vision. My paranoia really excited me.
It stimulated me. In short, it was pleasant.
If it was pleasant, it also must be fun.
That’s right! In other words, we were happy. I decided this was the best trip ever! Now, I truly understood the rock-and-roll lifestyle. I decided to make that lifestyle even more perfect.
“After drugs comes violence!”
Before the effects of the drugs wore off, we dashed out of the apartment and headed to the park.
We were going to fight. Tonight, we would move our violence to the wide-open park. Like young people in their fleeting youth, we had to fight! We had to fight dramatically, spectacularly, with all the passion of K-l kickboxers! If we did this, we could experience even more pleasure…
The sun had long since set, and there was no sign of anyone around us. If there had been, we would have been in trouble. It would have been embarrassing.
Under the streetlamps of the park, we faced each other. I was wearing a jersey and a T-shirt, and Yamazaki wore a sweatshirt. We were both dressed to move easily. We were ready.
Because the drugs still hadn’t worn off, Yamazaki was loose-tongued. He kept talking incomprehensibly. “This happens a lot. Dramas where two young, good-looking actors, arguing about youth or love or something, fight each other in a park, where everything is wet with rain. ‘You don’t really understand love!’… ‘I love Hitomi with all my heart!’… ‘Bang! Crack!’ That sort of thing…”
Doing stretching exercises, I nodded for him to continue.
“In my heart, I really do long for that kind of drama because there is truth in those television shows. Because there’s the introduction, development, turn, and resolution, there’s an explosion of emotions, and there’s the conclusion… On the other hand, our lives continually are filled with dim, dreamy anxiety, and there are no easily understood dramas, situations, or confrontations—nothing at all like that… Isn’t that sort of absurd? I’m twenty, and you’re twenty-two, Satou. Even so, we’ve never really loved anyone, hated anyone, fought as a result of love or hate, or had any of those experiences at all. It’s terrible!”
At this point, Yamazaki violently shook me by the shoulders as I stretched my Achilles tendons.
He said, “Let’s try fighting dramatically! Beautifully, swiftly, and roughly! Let’s fight with those concepts in mind!”
“Yeah!” I let out a brave yell and got into my fighting pose.
And so we started beating each other. Our fight was distressingly pastoral. There were some things that hurt, but punches from a weak man hopped up on drugs had limited force.
Yamazaki desperately was trying to make the fight as exciting as possible, and so he began yelling dramatic (although entirely abstract) lines, “Satou, you don’t understand anything!”
I couldn’t let his effort go to waste, so I also shouted something that felt appropriate. “You’re the one who’s wrong!”
“What part of what I’m saying is wrong?!”
I was at a loss, having been unexpectedly questioned in a concrete manner. The fist I was swinging around stopped as I thought about it for a little while. “For example, how about the fact that you went to the Yoyogi Animation Institute?” I responded hesitantly.
As I said that, Yamazaki abruptly aimed a kick at me. “Don’t make fun of Yoyogi Animation!”
“Ow! Why are you suddenly kicking me for real, you—“
“Don’t think you can talk so big even though you’re a hikikomori!”
The blood rushed to my head. “Die, lolicon! Die, you erotic game otaku!”
I swung my right fist as hard as I could, smashing it into Yamazaki’s stomach. He groaned, charged, and tackled me, still groaning as he did. Tangled up together, we fell to the ground. Yamazaki straddled my head; I could see the moon behind him. I would be beaten to a pulp if I stayed like this.
Hooking my leg around his neck, I somehow managed to get out from under him. We were both breathing heavily. Yamazaki glared at me; then, he looked down, giggling. Finally, he sighed loudly, “Ah, that was great.”
I sighed, too.
“It’s not even close to being over yet. Let’s keep fighting until we die”, he said. We kept fighting: Wild kicks and limpid punches, the passionate battle between two weak men. It hurt. It really, really hurt. Yet it was fun—fun and empty. A punch sank into the pit of my stomach, raising bile and making my eyes overflow with tears, and I was happy. Having just been kicked in the groin, Yamazaki looked cool, jumping up and down.
Jeez, what in the hell are we doing? I transferred this doubt into my fist—punched and was punched.
Suddenly, I remembered that it was already July. It wouldn’t be long. Something had to change soon. Likely, I would decide something before long. I was sure I’d be laughing then, laughing and smiling. You agree, don’t you, Yamazaki…?
For now, we were covered in scrapes and bruises. Everything hurt. Our entire bodies ached terribly. One of my front teeth felt loose. Yamazaki had a perfect black eye. My right fist was raw and bleeding.
We had just had our first little fight.
For good measure, I gave Yamazaki one more punch to the face. As I did, he caught my arm, and I tripped and fell. Following up, Yamazaki went on to lock my joints and twist my arm.
“Ow, ow, it’s gonna break, it’s gonna break!” I tried to tap out on the ground.
“I’ll break it, I’ll break it, I’ll break it with a snap!”
I bit down on Yamazaki’s calf as hard as I could. He screamed, “That’s against the rules!”
“Shut up, what do I care? Death to Yoyogi Animation!”
“Like I said, when I hear talk like that, I get really pissed off!”
It appeared that our fight was about to become increasingly, emptily escalated.
Then, we heard, “Officer!”
Eh?
“They’re over here, Officer!” It was a young woman’s high-pitched shout. Yamazaki jumped up immediately and ran for dear life back to the apartment.
Leaving me behind, he had run away alone.
Several minutes later, I found myself being hit by Misaki. They were only so-called “girl punches”; because of my fight with Yamazaki, though, I was already a bit beat up, and her blows jangled my bones. Bellowing at the top of her lungs, with what no longer even resembled a human voice, Misaki continued hitting me.
I ducked my head.
Misaki got in several dozen more punches before finally calming down.
In other words, the voice calling, “Officer!” had been Misaki pretending to call for the police. After eating dinner, Misaki had come to the park as usual, where she saw two men arguing loudly and beating up each other. When she realized I was one of them, she’d naturally been upset.
Gathering a great deal of courage, she seemed to have felt that she had to help. Because no one was around and she didn’t have a cell phone, though, she didn’t know what to do. Finally, she decided to pretend that a policeman was right there in order to save me.