The Tatami Prophecies (Part 2)

October 8

Today I pulled myself out of bed resolutely and went to my morning lectures.

Ate lunch at the co-op. Nothing for third period, so I decided to get some exercise by walking around Mt. Yoshida. On my way up the path to Yoshida Shrine ran into Tamako standing under a cluster of pine trees. She told me she was doing the same thing as me. Couldn’t miss the chance to take her for a tour; I know every nook and cranny on Mt. Yoshida like the back of my hand. Brought up The Prophecies of Nostradamus which I finished reading the other day, and she started telling me all these anecdotes about other historical prophets. What a way to spend an early autumn afternoon, strolling down a shaded forest path alongside a karukan-esque maiden and chatting about the occult. Maybe my college days aren’t a complete waste after all, I told myself. Was so punch-drunk off that moment of bliss that when she told me that her shift at the Ryokūdō was starting soon I said without hesitation that I’d come with her.

Forgot what I’d told myself last night until I saw Gotō standing beneath the eaves of the building. There goes my blissful afternoon.

“Well well well, as was foretold,” he smirked.

The word caught Tamako’s attention right away.

“Huh? What do you mean, foretold?”

After Tamako had taken over and the bald, glowering shop owner left the shop, Gotō took the 4½ Tatami Diary out of his bag. Like giving catnip to a cat. Tamako the Occult hunched over it in the darkness behind the register with a feline gleam in her eyes, muttering “This is amazing!” I silently prayed for her to forget the whole thing.

“I knew you’d like it,” Gotō said, “But this one doesn’t seem to find it interesting at all.”

“Why not? Why not?” shouted Tamako. “You’re missing out. This is incredible!”

Personally I’d rather not admit that my life is being predicted in someone else’s diary. Let’s be super generous and say that prophecies are real; I still wouldn’t pay Gotō that much money to see my future. If we’re being real that future isn’t worth predicting.

“But,” Tamako observed, “You might be able to make something out of those predictions.”

“She’s right, Matsumoto. Now, your future awaits!”

“You’re about to jack up the price, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. One day for the low, low price of 6000 yen.”

Even Tamako couldn’t believe her ears. “6000 yen!? That’s a total ripoff!”

“There are scant few days remaining in this precious diary. Of course the price has gone up,” he chuckled greedily. I stood my ground, but Tamako pulled out her wallet. “6000 for tomorrow, right?”

“We have a deal, then?” Gotō licked his lips. I tried to stop her, but Tamako’s fervor for the occult could not be extinguished, and she emptied out her wallet into Gotō’s waiting claws. He left and came back with a copy of the entry for October 9.

――――――

October 9

Attended history of Japanese religion in the am. Spaced out the whole time it was so boring. Couldn’t understand a thing in 2nd period physics. No more classes for the day, which left me plenty of time to ponder a philosophical question: What am I doing here? Question was driven from my head by the delicious tuna bowl which I had for lunch at the co-op. Afterward went toward Takano and loitered around a used bookstore.

Brewed some coffee back at my room, then put on a skin flick and enjoyed a donut while flipping through a manga. Watched until the sun went down, then went out to a Chinese restaurant on Shirakawa Street and had a ramen set. Been eating like crap lately. The restaurant was totally deserted except for me. Food was awful.

Going to bed a little early, and nobody’s going to stop me.

――――――

“What’s a skin flick?” asked Tamako.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“A gentleman must have his secrets,” said Gotō.

“Alright, but this is so…boring…” Tamako muttered.

Dodgy prophecy or not, I couldn’t quite suppress the shiver of masochistic delight that the object of my affections was studying an unembellished page from my insignificant life. And (setting aside the NSFW stuff) she was blown away by its banality. What was anyone supposed to do with this? Felt bad that she’d paid through the nose to get this, but it wasn’t exactly my fault. She gnawed her lip furiously while glaring sideways at Gotō, who was tickled pink.

After an awkward silence a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head.

“What if we caused the prophecy to fail?”

“Impossible. The prophecy will be fulfilled. This is how every day in this pathetic little life goes down.”

Super annoyed at being called pathetic by Gotō of all people.

“We could try, though,” Tamako persisted. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Definitely wasn’t expecting things to lead here.

“Huh,” I muttered half-heartedly, but inside I was glowing. “All right, let’s give it a try.”

This time it was Gotō who started scowling. “I suppose I’ll help too.”

“That’s okay, we don’t need your help.”

“Don’t say that. I’m curious too.”

We decided that we’d meet after our morning classes were finished and do the opposite of what the prophecy said. We’ll show this 4½ Prophecy who’s boss.

October 9

Attended history of Japanese religion in the am. Spaced out the whole time it was so boring. Couldn’t understand a thing in 2nd period physics. No more classes for the day, which left me plenty of time to ponder a philosophical question: What am I doing here? But perked right up when I remembered what had happened last night.

Met up with Gotō and Tamako and decided to have lunch.

Something funny happened at the cafeteria. To overturn the prophecy I just had to not eat a tuna bowl. Got miso-simmered mackerel, but some girl who wasn’t watching where she was going ran into me and knocked my food onto the floor. Gave me her lunch money to apologize, so I got back into line and got the same thing. This time a huge dude who looked like he was on the American football team slammed into me and sent both me and mackerel flying through the air. I got a bunch of dirty looks, as if I was dumping my food on the floor on purpose. I don’t know what was going through the football player’s head, but he said, “My bad, here you go!” then pushed his own tray into my hands and hurried off. Guess he didn’t have any cash on him. His order: a tuna bowl.

“Just eat it already,” said Gotō impatiently.

“Yeah, let’s just let this one go,” agreed Tamako.

So I ate it. It was pretty good.

Tamako had suggested that we go to Kurama. Her reasoning was if we went somewhere we didn’t normally go we’d put some distance between us and the prophecy. But at the Demachiyanagi Station another funny thing happened. The Eizan Railway line to Kurama was out of operation because a minor collision had just taken place. Now we could really feel the power of the diary bearing down.

“It’s telling you to give up and get back to your room,” said Gotō with a bark of laughter, standing on the embankment by the Kamo.

“It doesn’t have to be Kuramadera!” said Tamako, deciding we’d go to Higashiyama instead.

But our path to one of Kyoto’s most famous tourist havens turned out to be much harder than expected.

Roads were so clogged that the bus barely moved, and that tuna must have been funny because my stomach didn’t feel right. We got off the bus so I could borrow the toilet at a café, and once things calmed down we hopped on another bus, which we had to quickly hop off once we realized it was going south instead of west. Tamako refused to give up and flagged a taxi, but as soon as I got in my stomach started making these unholy noises. So we had to abandon transpo and walk from toilet to toilet like stones skipping across a river, slowly heading towards Higashiyama, but my stomach felt worse and worse with every intersection we moved west. Tamako was absolutely determined to keep going, and I tried my best not to let her down but by the time we passed Kitano Tenmangū and reached Kitano-Hakubaichō I was gasping for air.

“You look like death,” observed Gotō with some concern.

The Randen ticket barriers were right in front of us when the floodgates burst open. The unrelenting pressure all of a sudden felt very far away, and I felt a sinister warmth trickling down my nether regions. “Uh,” I said stopping in my tracks. Will never forget the look on Tamako’s face.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay…” she said, holding out her hand to me.

When I saw that mix of pity and repugnance on her face I put up my arms like a kungfu master to keep her back. Please god don’t come any closer. There’s nothing okay about any of this. How will I ever live down being overpowered by my biological needs in front of Tamako.

So this is what happens when you try to oppose the prophecies of the 4½ Tatami Diary.

Only remember bits and pieces of what happened next. So embarrassed that I ran back to my apartment, found a public toilet on the way where I cleaned up before going back. Curled up in a corner rocking back and forth in my underwear moaning to myself. It’s not my stomach that hurt: it was my heart. Mysteriously my bowels felt as refreshed as a clear autumn sky. It was like all that suffering never happened.

My previous dormant laptop suddenly came back to life, so in desperation I threw on a video. While I was watching the sun went down so I went to a Chinese joint on Shirakawa Street and had a ramen set. The restaurant was totally deserted except for me. Food was awful. The 4½ Tatami Diary was right about everything. From now on I won’t even think about defying it. It’s more like a curse than a prophecy. Heaven help me.

Going to bed a little early, and nobody’s going to stop me.

October 10

Spent the entire day holed up in my room. That diary records every detail of my wallowing, debauched 4½ tatami lifestyle. If I try to defy it a horrible fate would befall me like it did yesterday. So I might as well lean into it all the way.

Ignored every one of Gotō’s calls.

October 11

Didn’t leave my room until evening. The scars run deep.

Most annoying part is that all of this is in that diary, and Gotō is reading all about it. It’s like my life exists solely to amuse him. Unforgivable. I can’t believe I just let him take that diary.

Someone knocked on my door in the evening. Pretended I wasn’t home, but then I heard Tamako say quietly, “It’s me.” Gotō told her he couldn’t get hold of me so she came to check on me.

“It was my fault for that stupid idea,” she said. “How’s your stomach feeling?”

“It’s okay. Just do me a favor and forget that all happened,” I begged.

“Sure, you got it,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”

It was time for dinner, but Tamako called Gotō to invite him too. Said that since he owned the diary, if we wanted to unravel the mystery we’d need his help. We went to a ramen place on Imadegawa Street, where Gotō was already sitting at a table with a plate of gyoza and a glass of beer, flipping through the diary.

“Don’t be so depressed. All you did was soil yourself in public, after all.”

He was still hoping to sell it to me but there’s no point reading a prophecy if you can’t escape it. Outcome would be exactly the same. Apparently he hadn’t thought about that because he let out this annoyed grunt. “Well, it’s still worth buying in my opinion,” he argued. “You could mentally prepare yourself for what lies ahead.”

“You mean, mentally prepare myself to sit around my room?”

“Don’t be so sure. You won’t believe what happens on the 17th!”

At this point Tamako, who’d been quietly slurping her noodles, piped up.

“So where did this diary come from, anyways?”

Both Gotō and I shut up. That was the biggest mystery of all. It was in the back of my closet so that must mean a former resident wrote it. I suggested that maybe if we asked the landlady we’d find some sort of clue.

“I’ll go with you,” said Tamako.

“Then I’ll go too!” said Gotō. “You won’t get far unless you show her the diary.”

“Can’t you just hand it over already?”

“No way. I’m still banking on this thing. The price is only going up, you know!” he declared, hugging it to his chest. I’ve never seen someone look so miserly.

“So what happens on the 17th?” Tamako asked.

A weird grin spread across Gotō’s face.

“The end of the world.”

Back in my room I started thinking. The diary probably doesn’t say anything about us going to see the landlady tomorrow, because we only decided to do it after reading the diary. So that means we’re defying the diary again. Made me anxious remembering yesterday’s catastrophe, but I guess I’ll worry about that tomorrow.