Invitations to Mt. Daimonji

November 6

To: Morita Kaoru

Greetings,

I hope the deepening days of autumn find you well.

I spend most of my days pondering at my desk.

I recently published a book entitled “Fox Tales”. If you happen to see copies of it on the shelf at a bookstore, I would be most obliged if you would silently urge it to sell. I’ll also be holding a book signing to commemorate its release. Public appearances make me nervous, so I may end up using a body double instead. Your brother Ichirō was making noises about becoming my body double, so what say you I ask him?

It's too early in the season to go leaf peeping, but from the Kamo Bridge I could see the mountains slowly turning crimson.

Do you enjoy autumn?

Some people say that autumn is a sad season, but I think that it would be a good thing for everyone who says that to get a taste of melancholy. Melancholy in autumn is the sign of a well-bred gentleman or lady. An air of melancholy wafts equally around the people trudging through the streets equally, and a lonely wind blows through the streets. What more lovely season could there be than this?

It is unfortunate then that the autumn wind also brings with it tooth decay. I can only blame it on my overconsumption earlier this year of the drink of summer love. It’s unfair that this is what happens after I drank it all summer long at the nearby XXX Shrine. How is it fair that neglecting a trifling activity like brushing your teeth could lead to cavities? Why don't my teeth just heal on their own? Thanks to this my writing has come to a screeching halt. It’s all my cavities’ fault.

I’m leaving the pleasure of visiting the dentist to the last, instead distracting myself from the pain by reading your letters. It’s much more fun lying in a hammock and reading letters from my fans than trying to squeeze words out of my head. I’d be in heaven if I could quit writing and just do this all day. And this is why I’m at risk of missing my deadlines again. It’s a headache and a half.

I kid, I kid. Thou shalt not push your responsibilities unto others!

Receiving letters from my fans is pure joy. Though sometimes the love gets so heavy that I groan, “This is too heavy!” How strange it is, that someone who used to agonize in a 4½ tatami room is now getting letters from strangers all over Japan. It’s the kind of thing that a young man with delusions of literary grandeur could only dream about. Your brother claims that I’m obsessed with using these letters to seduce young women, but I’m not as idiotic as that. I’d like to think I’m not so addled that I can’t perceive the fine line that separates letters and fan letters.

I’ve come to understand Ichirō very well, thanks to your letters. It’s amusing that you and I see him in almost the same way; he’s so straightforward, or very or put in a less positive light, so simpleminded.

I don’t have the right to lecture him about running away from reality, because it wasn’t so long ago that I was a student on the edge, moaning, “If I can’t become a poet or a man of leisure, I don’t want to become anything at all.” Knowing how much you care for him, I’m not surprised how worried you are. But the way I see it, he’s not too far gone, not by a long shot. Sure, every time he opens his mouth something stupid like, “love letter startup” or “Three cheers for boobs!” comes out, but those are just his way of cheering himself up. Deep down he’s smarter than that. He has to be.

I’m watching him from afar, just irresponsibly waiting for him to summon the courage to make a gigantic leap out there. If only all my other work was as easy as this.

You know, he’d never admit it because he says as a big brother it would be beneath him, but he’s very grateful to you. No, really. Don’t let him know I told you that. The next time you see him, be nice and try not to poke at his self-esteem. Even he has some respectable parts. Everyone has some saving graces, even him.

I’ve been rambling on and on, but I’m writing to you today to extend an invitation.

Lately my work has been tiring me out, and when I grumbled about it to Ichirō and said I wanted to do something useless he replied, “Want to go release some red balloons from Mt. Daimonji together?” I couldn’t help but be deeply impressed by the sheer uselessness of the idea.

I once tried writing a letter to nobody instead of working on what I was supposed to turn in for my upcoming deadline, and what happened was that the words that I’d been unable to produce just came pouring out into what turned out to be a voluminous letter detailing the rise and fall of one Morimi Tomihiko and his quest to make his deadline. It’s chock full of crates overflowing with sparkling DVDs, bookshelves full of volumes seductively calling out to passersby, fantasies of hot spring getaways with raven-haired maidens, rooms piled high with towering mountains of unread fan mail, and bad guys galore. I intend to attach this masterpiece to a red balloon and release it into the soaring autumn skies from the fire pits on Mt. Daimonji, with the intention that it will fall to earth into the hands of some unsuspecting stranger utterly unknown to me, who will be regaled with my woeful story. I think it’s a wonderful plan, though the unknown recipient may regard it as a calamity.

Would the ladies of the All-Japan Maidens’ Society like to come along? Would you be interested in writing a letter not knowing who would read it?

If so, I would be more than willing to sign away my copyrights.

I am planning to hold the balloon release at the Mt. Daimonji fire pits at 2:00 P.M. on Saturday, November 11th. Afterwards, you would all be invited to a sukiyaki banquet and pajama party. I understand that you may wish to consider this abrupt invitation carefully, but I should be overjoyed to be honoured with the favour of your presence.

Yours sincerely,

Morimi Tomihiko

November 6

To: Mr. Morimi Tomihiko

Dear Mr. Morimi,

Today I went to the station to meet my brother, who’s just come back from the biological laboratory. My dad called a family meeting today to decide who would pick him up, but my mom and dad outvoted me so I didn’t really have a choice. I stewed about how unfair democracy is all the way out the door. I stopped by the Sanseido bookstore at Kyoto Station, and I saw your latest book on the shelves so of course I bought it. I can’t wait to read it.

Thank you for looking after my brother for the past six months. I know how busy you are with writing, so I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you playing along with his “epistolary boot camp”. He’s always amusing himself writing stupid things, so I hope it wasn’t too much of a chore. But I think that writing letters was a good outlet for him while he was there at the lab. He’d never admit it to me and our parents, but I think his first time living alone had him feeling lonely.

He's too embarrassed to tell you, but he really appreciates you, too. When he came back to visit a little while ago he kept gushing about how, “Morimi is a great man!” and “Other than his books, Morimi is a living saint!” He really respects you. I don’t think you know this, but he actually practices copying your writing into a notebook. So I hope that you can continue to laugh off all the stupid stuff he says.

How have you been? Are you still eating well?

As always, I’m attempting to become a gentlewoman of leisure.

Just kidding. I’m actually trying to become an astronaut.

Whenever I bring up the term “gentlewoman of leisure” my brother starts laying into me, the hypocrite. I appreciate that he’s looking out for me, but if you want to lecture me how about you figure out your own life first! Frankly, I’ve got it more together than he does. Mom and dad are always freaking out and holding family councils about him.

Sometimes he brings things up and I can’t tell whether he’s joking or serious. Like his “love letter startup”. He’s asked me for my opinion about love letters before, but frankly I couldn’t care less about them. If I got a love letter from someone who I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with then it’d just be gross, and if I got one from someone who I could imagine being with, I’d rather they just say it to me directly instead of writing some roundabout letter. Of course, if it’s from your current boyfriend or something then I think it’d be cute. Put the opposite way, if a guy is so obtuse that he can’t even write a passable love letter then I would rather not go out with him. Obviously, if you’re looking for some kind of art of writing a love letter that makes any girl fall for you, like my brother keeps talking about, there’s no such thing. I told him so in one of my letters, but I still don’t know if he really gets it…

When I think of my brother, I think of a nauseating, awkward, timorous, sniveling, uncultured, klutzy ogre. But he’s also got a kind side; he used to play games with me on rainy days and buy me mint chocolate ice cream. The ice cream was an apology for pushing me into a pool though. He said that it was “tough love, like the proverbial lion pushing its cubs off a cliff”, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep rambling about my brother. I’m really writing to extend you an invitation.

The ladies of the All-Japan Maidens’ Society are planning an autumn hike up Mt. Daimonji. A normal old hike would be boring, though, so my suggestion was that we tie letters to red balloons and release them into the air.

A long time ago, my brother did the same thing and actually found a pen pal. Eventually his pen pal stopped writing though, but my brother still had a great time writing letters. I can still picture the huge smile on his face every time a reply came in the mail. I’m pretty sure that his obsession with love letters and epistolary boot camp started with his fond memories of that exchange.

So that’s where my idea comes from: the Mt. Daimonji red balloon project. We’re going to write letters with unspecified recipients, tie them to balloons, and release them into the air from Mt. Daimonji.

So I wanted to ask you a favour: would you do us the honour of joining us? I know you’d need to take time out of your busy schedule, but I’m sure it would be a pleasant diversion.

We will be gathering at the Mt. Daimonji firepits at 2:00 P.M. on November 11th. After the balloon release, you are cordially invited to join us for a sukiyaki banquet followed by a pajama party. I understand that you may want to think this abrupt invitation over carefully, but we would be thrilled to be honoured with your presence.

Sincerely,

Morita Kaoru

November 6

To: Ms. Ōtsuka Hisako

How’s your master’s thesis coming along?

I think this is the first time I’ve ever written a letter. Just to be clear, this ain’t got nothing to do with Morita’s “epistolary boot camp” or whatnot. So don’t get it twisted. Nobody, and I mean nobody, tells me what to do. I just thought it’d be fun to try it out, that’s all.

I went to Wakura Onsen with Morita the other day, you know. After that we went up to Koiji Beach and I rang this bell of love. Autumn is a godawful time to go up there, I was shocked by how forlorn the place was.

Me and Morita talked about a lot of things. He’s a promising kid. From the outside looking in he’s a real weirdo, but he’s a straight shooter on the inside. He even told me that he appreciates you, and considering all the crap you put him through that just goes to show what a big heart he’s got in there. Would it kill you to be a little nicer to him? Just say that you’ll try. That shit you pulled in September was real messed up.

I can tell just by looking at him that he’s not cut out for this work. He can’t get through an experiment without fucking something or other up, and he can’t concentrate long enough to read through an entire paper. He just doesn’t have the heart for it, and I told him so straight to his face because I just couldn’t bear to watch him keep stumbling towards a dead end. I must be going soft. Back in grad school I was too wrapped up in myself to worry about anyone else.

Recently after work every day I’ve been drinking your patented Ōtsuka energy drinks and plucking my mandolin and thinking about the future. The past, too. I’ve been rushing headlong this whole time, but maybe just running as fast as you can isn’t enough to get you anywhere. I’m already thirty, and it feels like I’ve run into a brick wall. Will climbing over this wall get me anywhere? Or do I even need to get past it at all? That’s the part that I worry about the most. When I was a kid I used to think that if I worked hard enough I could win a Nobel Prize. Come to think of it, kid me was pretty ambitious. This old man who runs a ramen joint in Wakura Onsen told me, “Sometimes you think things’ll work themselves out, but they don’t.” Sounds obvious enough, but when I look back at my life, maybe it wasn’t so obvious after all. Maybe I was just joking about the Nobel Prize, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an ego. If I keep twiddling my thumbs that ego is just going to rot, and I can’t stand the thought of that.

I can hear you cackling from here, Hisako. Go ahead, laugh all you want. That’s what I like about you. Sometimes I feel like it’s better not to beat around the bush with these things, so I’ll just say it: I love you. There, I said it.

Morita went back to Kyoto today, so on my way to run an errand I dropped by the train station to see him off. He looked surprised that I showed up.

“All this time here and practically nothing to show for it. Still think you can graduate, baby?” I shouted at him.

“Well, I’ve gotten better at writing letters,” he shouted back, sounding kind of proud. “If nothing else I’ll make an excellent ghostwriter.” He thinks writing a bunch of letters makes him a ghostwriter? “How about I fake a letter from Ōtsuka to you?” Little shit.

“Go ahead and try it!” I said. “But if I were you I’d spend that time studying.”

“You got it! Come visit me in Kyoto sometime! We should grab a bite at Neko Ramen.” And then he was on his way.

I wouldn’t mind a bowl of Neko Ramen. What are you doing on the night of the 11th?

Now that Morita’s out of my hair, and I’ve gotten some other work out of the way, I’m thinking of visiting Kyoto. Things have been so hectic that I haven’t seen you since September, and there was all that other business that was straining things, if you recall. We should have a nice long chat over a bowl of Neko Ramen.

That reminds me, when you passed along that message to him he suddenly got really gung-ho. Apparently he’s planning to invite his lady friend to climb Mt. Daimonji on the 11th? He also said something about tying letters to red balloons and releasing them into the air or some crap like that. You’d think if he can come up with crazy ideas like that, he’d be able to think up a halfway decent proposal for an experiment.

The Mt. Daimonji firepits at 2 P.M. on Saturday, November 11th. Don’t go there to mess with him. Definitely don’t do anything evil like go there with a BB gun to pop the balloons. No matter how funny it’d be.

That’ll do it for me. Here’s hoping I see you on the 11th.

With utmost deference,

Taniguchi Seiji

P.S. ABSOLUTELY, DEFINITELY DO NOT DO ANYTHING TO MESS WITH MORITA’S ROMANTIC PLANS NO MATTER HOW FUNNY IT WOULD BE.

2 P.M. on Saturday November the 11th. Don’t be there.

November 6

To: Taniguchi Seiji

Hey, how’ve you been?

Other than the raging stomach ache I gave myself after binging on beer and sukiyaki the past couple of days, I’m doing just swell. I’ve never been more sober. And that’s why I’m writing to you.

What, I’m not allowed to write you a letter? I’m starting to like this writing letters thing. I’ve written so many this year that I’m getting the hang of it. That little brat Morita keeps pestering me to write to him. He’s such a wuss in person, but in his letters he’s always so bossy. Who does he think he is, huh?

I roll my eyes every time he starts puffing himself up in his letters, but at the same time it’s pretty funny. He started getting too big for his britches though so I had to teach him what’s what back in September.

Can you believe he wrote to me, “What did you eat growing up to become so bold?” The nerve of him. He has the nerve of a chickpea. I wrote back and asked, “What did you eat growing up to become such a pussy?” Pretty clever, if I do say so myself. I have to hand it to him though, it’s amazing how he can keep up writing to all these different people. I have a newfound respect for him. It’s a shame he can’t put all that energy to something that’s actually useful.

He keeps saying what a great person you are, and he clearly respects you a lot, even if he gets deflated when you scold him sometimes. He may be a dumbass, but he’s starting to grow up. At least he knows his place.

Now that I’ve more or less wrapped up my thesis, there’s not much left for me to do around here, though I still gotta prep so that all those adorable little seniors who will be coming into the lab next year can take over my research projects. Other than that, it’s just planning for my graduation trip and getting ready for my new job.

So don’t worry about me, mkay?

You know me, I love getting things done quick. I always get all moody whenever I’ve got a pile of stuff that needs to be done. Fun stuff like traveling and messing with Morita don’t count, of course. I can’t wait for Morita to get back here so I can get him good. He seems to have learned his lesson from September, but leave him alone too long and he’ll be right back on his high horse again. Every second I waste on my thesis is a second I can’t use to screw with Morita’s head, and there’s nothing more important than that.

I start my new job next April. I’ve had my fun in college, my campus bucket list is completely checked off. I’ve been to a few of the new hire meetings, and some of them seem like the perky, gullible type, so I’m looking forward to having some fun. But I’m an honest-to-goodness grownup now, and even I realize that I can’t be pulling pranks on people forever. Yes indeed. I’ll try not to pick too many fights. And I don’t bully just any old person I run into. It has to be someone who’ll put up a good fight, otherwise I just get bored of it. Morita was a worthy opponent. He never surrenders, and every time I talk to him I get all sorts of brilliant ideas for how to mess with him next. I’d say that makes him pretty respectable himself, wouldn’t you? But I’d never tell him that, just to make sure he doesn’t get any big ideas.

(I’m writing this in the lab. Morita just got back and he’s been running his mouth nonstop right next to me. I brought up the Titty Incident to rib him and he just loftily said, “That was purely out of academic curiosity, nothing more.” Talk about a cosmic idiot.)

What, I’m spending too much time writing about Morita? Maybe I should make you jealous more often.

I didn’t think I would write this much. My hand is tired. I’m sure you have a lot of things on your plate so I’ll end this letter soon, but before I do I have a favour to ask.

Now that Morita’s back in town I thought it would be nice to have a pleasant little picnic so I asked Maeda to plan something for us. We’re all going to climb Mt. Daimonji and stage a reading of Morita’s love letters (Can you believe that he says he’s mastered the art of writing love letters? Apparently it allows him to make any girl fall for him on the spot LOLOLOL). Once he falls over out of embarrassment and starts rolling down the slope, we’ll attach the letters to red balloons and release them into the sky.

What a storybook ending. Sometimes you just need to do cute things like this, don’t you think?

Morita just screamed right next to me, “Leave my love letters alone!” Sorry honey, it ain’t gonna happen.

The fun starts at the Mt. Daimonji firepits at 2 p.m. on Saturday, November 11th. Think you can play a little hooky and come to Kyoto then? Morita and all the junior lab members will be there. We’re having sukiyaki for dinner.

I know you can’t say no to more meat! I love me some meat.

Yeah, yeah, I know you’re busy, but last time I went to see you so now it’s your turn to come over here. It’d make me the happiest girl in the world.

If you can’t make it let me know ahead of time so I can break up with you.

Till next time.

All my love,

Hisako Ōtsuka

November 6

Dear Mamiya,

How are you doing? Has your mother found a new tutor? Are you making sure to wash behind your ears when you bathe? Are you studying hard? Don’t think too much about dirty things unless you want to become like Mr. Morita.

I’m very sorry that I had to resign from being your tutor so suddenly. I truly hope you don’t think that I am angry at you or anything of the sort. I assure you that is not the case.

I sincerely regret that I couldn’t continue to be your tutor, but after thinking long and hard about the situation, I felt that it was best that I resign. I would only be a distraction if I were to continue tutoring you.

I was very flattered to hear that you feel that way about me, but I already have feelings for someone else. You already know that, don’t you? He’s a marshmallow-like man, and he’s very funny and very kind. You may find it difficult to understand the way I feel.

I think that you’re a very promising young man. I had a great time with you at the Gion Festival and the used book fair. So even though I can no longer be your tutor, I hope that we’ll still see each other from time to time.

In fact, very soon we are holding a book release celebration for Mr. Morimi Tomihiko on Mt. Daimonji. It was Mr. Morita who invited me. Mr. Morimi and Mr. Morita and Ms. Otsuka (the person who threatened to eat you up) will all be there.

We will be releasing red balloons from the mountain, with letters attached to them.

I’m expecting it to be a wonderful time. Would you like to come along?

If so, I will be waiting in front of Ginkaku-ji, at 1:00 P.M. on November 11th.

Sincerely,

Maeda Mariko

November 6

To: Maeda Mariko

I’m taking a page out of Morita’s book and trying my hand at writing a letter!

Today was the first time you talked to him, wasn’t it? Last time being what it was (again I am so, so sorry). Yes, that was the infamous Morita Ichirō: the Notojima Aquarium dolphin lover, the methodological boob skeptic. I know you were nervous to meet him, Mari, with all of your preconceived notions about him. But now that you’ve met the real him, he’s courteous enough, don’t you think?

He's the one who told me to pray at Yoshida Shrine, to buy you that bubble-bobble chimaki, and to bring you carnations when you were ill, though I think you already knew that. Every one of those things turned out to be a disaster, but it all worked out in the end, so I still oughta thank him. Two wrongs make a right, or something like that.

That screening which you were so offended at? That was all Morita. I know I’ve said this before, but in his own way he really was serious about that (again, totally in his own way). He was trying to fix me so I wouldn’t be so shaky whenever I was around you. So I owe it to that poor sap to try to defend him a little.

But as you know, it was all for nothing. I get it now. He always said, “Freedom from boobs: that is where it all begins.” But I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with beginning by acknowledging my true feelings and bending the knee to boobs, either. If he heard me say that though he’d start calling me a buffoon again, hah.

We’ve been buddies since our first year in college, so we know who we are and just how idiotic we are. He’s always saying that I “blaze new trails of idiocy” but when it comes down to it so does he. Idiots are more complicated than they may seem from the outside, you can’t just hit it off with any old idiot. You don’t come across an idiot who operates on the same wavelength that you do every day. That’s why I’m proud to call him my friend, and you can depend on that.

(So that the previous paragraph doesn’t cause you too much worry, we’re not idiots 24/7. We only unleash our hidden Idiot Power when the time is right. We both know exactly when that time is, which I think is what I mean by our wavelengths being aligned.)

By the by, would you happen to be free on the afternoon of November 11th? I’m asking on behalf of Morita; apparently we’ll be meeting Ibuki at the Dai firepits on Mt. Daimonji; they’re tying letters to red balloons and releasing them into the sky. He really does think of the strangest things. Anyhoo, he’s asked whether we wouldn’t like to join them for sort of a double date. The old Morita would have said, “Double dates are for the impure of heart!” but it seems like spending six months away from Kyoto has changed his worldview.

Since he’s asking, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to join him. I’ll be waiting in front of Ginkaku-ji at 1 pm on the 11th.

The view from Mt. Daimonji is spectacular. It’s almost comparable to your many charms: the little oopsies you make in your experiments, the look on your face when you’re sitting in the corner of the lab concentrating, the way you never take a treat at teatime until everyone else has, the way you smile when you talk to people, your long black hair, and many others besides. Boobies.

Forgive this big idiot?

Boobies aside, though, I’m doing my best to leave behind my idiot ways. No matter how Morita fans the flames by calling me an “idiot pioneer”, I’m doing my best to walk the straight and narrow, if you’re willing to walk beside me. I hope you are. I’m so very glad I met you.

Komatsuzaki Yūya

P.S. Please don’t bring up Morita and Ibuki at the lab. If Ōtsuka gets wind of it she’s bound to show up. You know how scary she is.

November 6

To: My friend, Komatsuzaki “Marshmallow” Yūya

Thanks very much for picking me up at Kyoto Station. It has been a tumultuous six months; I even almost broke off our friendship once. But that notwithstanding, I am grateful that you have kept up this correspondence through thick and thin. And I am most happy that our friendship has withstood the test.

And that being the case, I would like to test that friendship once more with a few requests:

1. Obtain 10 red balloons (helium)
2. Bring those balloons with you to the entrance of Ginkaku-ji at 1:00 P.M. on November 11
3. Meet Maeda and young Mamiya at the same (invitations have already been issued)
4. Assemble at the Daimonji firepits

If all goes according to plan, the following nine people will show up at the Daimonji firepits: Morimi Tomihiko, my little sister, Taniguchi, Empress Hisako, Maeda Mariko, Ibuki, you, young Mamiya, and myself.

Behold, the fruits of my six-month epistolary boot camp.

And I will apologize to you and you alone; because I know the cat will be out of the bag in no time, I have already taken the liberty of ghostwriting the invitation to the guest of honour.

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Morita Ichirō, Master of the Epistolary Art