Yoiyama Goldfish

Otogawa is the guy who raised the “super goldfish”.

What is the super goldfish?

We were born in Nara, but the town where we graduated high school has had a booming goldfish farming industry for ages. Even the temple where my dad worked as head priest had a large algae-filled goldfish pond. Beneath the fence behind the main temple building ran an old waterway where the goldfish that somehow always managed to escape drifted like red flower petals.

During the summer break of my first year in high school, as I was returning to the temple one day, I saw someone leaning over the waterway. It was Otogawa. Even though we rarely spoke to each other at school, he was gazing so intently at the water that I stopped my bike and called out to him. Shadows from the tree branches that spread over the fence from within the temple compound fell upon the waterway, and Otogawa’s face was dappled with sunlight filtering through the leaves. He looked like an elementary school kid on summer break. For some reason he seemed to be having a great time.

“Oh, Fujita-kun.”

He always said my name with the honorific.

“I’m rescuing goldfish, you know.”

“Why?”

“I want to train them.”

Normally at this point I would probably think, Better stay away from this guy from now on. A high schooler who not only saved goldfish but also wanted to “train” them was not a good sign. Abnormal. Bad news. There was no place for me in this guy’s private world. Even though my assessment of the situation was probably correct, I didn’t feel anything particularly off at the time. Maybe I had already been snared by Otogawa’s strange personality. Or maybe I was overwhelmed by the joy of finally being on summer break. Unlike my eldest brother who had to waste his time at an acquaintance’s temple, I, as the youngest son, was totally free.

I stood beside the waterway, wiping away my sweat and watching Otogawa capture goldfish. He put the day’s catch in a tank and nodded to himself, satisfied.

“This one’s tough. It’s got promise,” he said.

“How can you tell whether it’s tough or not?”

“That’s what’s called experience.”

“You have experience?”

“Of course. I have all sorts of experience, you know.”

During the years in high school pent up in that tiny box called a classroom, my relationships usually developed so gradually that I could never pinpoint when I became friends with someone. But I very clearly remembered that this was the day I became friends with Otogawa.

Ten years have passed since then.

　　　　　　　◯

There is an insect called the Ōshū Saikawa hellgrammite.

It has a flat, thin body made of numerous segments, and lots of skinny legs. Its head looks like a stag beetle’s, with small pincers. It has fewer legs than a centipede, making it look kind of stout.

Whatever conditions were that caused them to reproduce, these weird insects have been sighted in towns west of the Kamo River since the middle of the Showa Period. They enjoy humidity and are usually found lurking in the dark crevices beneath buildings. Sometimes they make an appearance near bodies of water and scare unsuspecting people, but there’s nothing particularly bad about them.

These hellgrammites have one strange behavior. When July rolls around on Yoiyama, they crawl out of their usual dwelling place and migrate above ground, crawling up utility poles and the walls of buildings. The path they take is always more or less the same, so if you camped out along it, you’d be able to see a long train of them. This is one of the things that mark the Gion Festival on Yoiyama. Although it’s not particularly pleasant to look at, many insect enthusiasts flock to Kyoto just to see it.

A professor of insect ecology once proposed that light from the lanterns that fill the town cause the hellgrammites to travel in a line. Insects swarming around lights is a behavior called “positive phototaxis”, but apparently hellgrammites move away from lights of certain wavelengths due to “negative phototaxis”. The professor’s research showed that the switch to electric lights in lanterns in the past few years also affected the path the hellgrammites take.

　　　　　　　◯

—Otogawa said seriously as I stared at him.

We were drinking somewhere in Kyoto. The bar, Seikitei, was located on Rokkaku Street in a traditional wooden house sandwiched between two multi-tenant buildings. With a bamboo curtain covering its entrance, it looked like an old, historical bar, when in actuality it had opened just two years ago.

The already humid air caused by the seemingly endless rainy season was compounded by the mass of drunk customers packed into the room. The AC might as well not have been on. Outside, the lukewarm night breeze made the wind chimes tinkle and brought in various smells from the street stalls. The breeze also quietly carried with it the cacophony of Yoiyama, but this only added to the ambience. Between the window shutters I could see an old man in a yukata, his face glowing red from lantern light.

“Come on, eat up.” Otogawa pushed a plate toward me as he wiped his sweat with a moist towelette.

It was a plate of nasty grilled bugs, their long, thin, segmented bodies skewered mid-wriggle. Having been stewed in sugar and soy sauce, they shone a glossy amber in the dim light of the bar.

“Hellgrammites are an aphrodisiac, you know. It’ll boost your mojo in no time. You’ll be blessed with loads of children.”

“How’s that supposed to happen when I’m single?”

“It’s a Yoiyama specialty, so get yo grub on! People will laugh at you if they find out you went to Yoiyama and didn’t have any. Look, it probably goes well with beer.” He poured me another glass.

“Are they really a Yoiyama specialty?” asked a woman who was passing by, looking at Otogawa.

He grinned.

She burst out laughing. “That’s enough, Otogawa,” she said. “Stop pulling his leg, I feel bad for him.”

Otogawa just continued to smirk without saying anything.

“So what are hellgrammites?” I asked.

“The larval form of dobsonflies. They only live in clean rivers.”

“Don’t make me eat some weird-ass bug.”

“It’s true that they’re aphrodisiacs though. Ōshū Saikawa hellgrammites is the name of an actual product.”

“Still, that’s messed up. He’s always been like this.” I said to the woman still smiling beside me. “Nothing but lies from him.”

“I know. Just the other day he pissed off Ms. Suzaki.”

“Has he come back since then?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“If it really was my fault I’d feel kind of bad.”

“Ms. Suzaki isn’t an alcoholic like you.”

“How rude.”

“Sorry not sorry.”

“One more beer,” Otogawa said, lighting a cigarette. “Man, even though we haven’t met up in ages, all we talk about is stuff from the past.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re not talking.”

“You’re not saying much either, Fujita-kun.”

“I don’t have anything interesting to talk about, unlike you…”

After graduating from a university in Osaka, I’d been working for a consumer electronics manufacturer for the past three years. Although I normally live in Chiba, the company sent me out to the branch in Umeda for the weekend. Since Otogawa had told me to come to Yoiyama this summer, I took the train to Kyoto after getting off work.

Otogawa had stayed in Kyoto after graduating. When we were students, I was always a bit apprehensive, wondering, What will this guy do in the future? When I heard that he had gotten a job at a secondhand store, I thought it was kind of fitting. Otogawa had always liked collecting strange odds and ends, and had often happily carried off the junk from our family temple.

“How is your work going?”

“Well, it’s hard to say. It’s a world rife with demons, you know.”

“Then it’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah. I want to become a professional demon. But my boss Kinezuka says I’ve still got a ways to go,” Otogawa said, grinning.

“Still, you haven’t changed at all since high school.”

“I was fully formed when I was young. You know how they say great talents mature early.”

“There’s no such saying.”

“Fujita-kun, you’re the one who said I had an open skylight in my head.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good phrase. Pithy and easy to understand. You should open a skylight in your head too.”

　　　　　　　◯

Back in high school, not many people knew the extent of Otogawa’s weirdness. Although he had no issues doing things others wouldn’t, he was actually pretty shy and tended to keep his mouth shut around people he wasn’t familiar with.

The high school we went to was located on the remnants of a castle said to be built by Tsutsui Junkei. For three years I rode my bike from the train station up the gentle slope that led to the castle.

Those days passed more or less pleasantly.

At the time, I was proud of how popular I was. I didn’t stand out in elementary school, but starting from junior high I gradually became more popular and eventually secured a place for myself in the class in-group. Someone like Otogawa never registered on my radar. It wasn’t until that summer break that I really became aware of his existence.

Incidentally, there were a number of strange occurrences at our school during those years.

A small wooden statue of Jizō would appear on the teacher’s podium every Monday. No matter how many times it was cleared away, a new one would appear the next week. Each one was carved with a cute expression, and it became a topic of conversation even among the faculty. Since it was the statue of a deity, no one wanted to just toss it in the trash, so to this day, they are still smiling beatifically in a corner of the principal’s office.

In the winter of my second year, a Christmas tree appeared in the classroom. Once, all the toilet paper in the mens restroom were replaced with pink, scented paper overnight. When the theater club didn’t have enough funds for the culture festival, it was sent an envelope of cash; and when we returned to school after New Year break, a tiny kagami mochi had been placed on everyone’s desk.

The one who solved the mystery quickly and masterfully, and won the title of high school detective, was Otogawa—not. In reality he was the mastermind behind all the strange incidents, but being so inconspicuous, no one thought to suspect him. To be honest, even I hadn’t considered the possibility until he told me.

I once asked him why he’d done all that.

“Dunno. I just really wanted to,” he replied. “I wonder why. It was my raison d’etre, I guess.”

“But no one knows it was you. Isn’t that disappointing?”

“There’s some fun in keeping it a secret too. So don’t go telling anyone.”

Otogawa’s shenanigans all cost money, so I wondered where he’d gotten the funds.

When I asked, he said that he enjoyed hiking, so he’d often go collect herbs and sell them to an acquaintance’s traditional medicine shop on Nara’s Sanjō Street in order to make his budget. He also had a knack for trading in secondhand goods. Unwanted wall scrolls and jars from our temple were small fry for him; from abandoned engines from farming equipment to faded signs from storage sheds, there was probably nothing Otogawa couldn’t turn into money.

Everything he did and didn’t do was strange. But strange as he was, I never thought he was a genius, or that he had no future. He just lived freely in his eccentricity.

At the time, he was interested in carving Buddhas, but had nowhere to put all his completed statues. So he’d leave them under trees or on top of rocks during his hikes, and when the fancy struck him, at school. That was where all the Jizō statues had come from. Those weren’t his only creations; he’d once made an entire papier-mâché float like the ones you see during the Nebuta Festival. Nowhere was his versatility more apparent than in raising the “super goldfish”.

After spending his highschool years doing whatever he wanted, he left his hometown in Nara and entered university in Kyoto. A year after that, I started school in Osaka.

　　　　　　　◯

I listened to the raucous noises coming from Yoiyama as I sipped my beer.

During university, I had visited Otogawa twice during the festival, but this was my first time getting the actual Yoiyama nighttime experience. The reason for this is that although he always promised to show me around Yoiyama, he usually ended up taking me somewhere else entirely.

“So now you’re also a man who has experienced Yoiyama, Fujita-kun,” Otogawa said, chewing on some smelt fish. “When are you going back to Chiba?”

“Tomorrow, after I’ve seen the floats. Can I crash at your place? The hotels are all sold out.”

“I’m not taking you in. You can still make the Shinkansen. Anyway, you’ve already seen Yoiyama, so when you get back to Chiba you can pretend you know all about Kyoto.”

“I haven’t seen anything yet. Give me a tour, since you’re the one that invited me in the first place.”

“I’ve got way too much other stuff lined up.”

“I’m not letting you off this time. I’ve already been tricked into coming here twice before.”

Otogawa merely chuckled.

My first time visiting Yoiyama was during the summer break of my first year in university. At the time, Otogawa lived in an apartment near Shinnyodō.

He’d sent me a map showing how to get to Shinnyodō by going over Mount Yoshida, but after I’d sweated all the way through the dense forest, he told me that if I’d gotten off at the Ginkakuji Michi bus stop, I wouldn’t have needed to wheeze my way over the mountain. Anyway, I rested for a while at his place, then we set off to see Yoiyama, which was unexpectedly disappointing. He pointed at some lanterns inside a shrine and said, “There’s a float”. I found out later that he’d actually taken me to Kamigamo Shrine.

The second time I visited was during my final summer break in university. I thought for sure he would take me to Yoiyama this time, and boarded a small train with him. It swayed its way out of the city and deeper into the mountains before finally stopping at Kurama. There was nothing else to do but wander around Kurama before going back. Otogawa regaled me with tales about his friend who went to train on Mount Kurama and got chased by wild pigs, water that would fly around the valleys and was therefore called “tengu water”, and other dubious stories, thanks to which, I gained a bunch of useless knowledge and, in the end, never even got to see Yoiyama.

This time, I finally managed to set foot in Yoiyama.

“What were you playing at, those two times?”

“Are you bitter about it?”

“Not really.”

“Why climb a mountain? Because it’s there. Why mess with Fujita-kun? Because Fujita-kun is there. That’s what you call instinct.”

“I was wondering whether you’d actually take me to Yoiyama today. But I’m an adult, so I figured if you didn’t take me I could go on my own.”

“Best not do that,” Otogawa said, furrowing his brows. “It’s dangerous for someone not familiar with it.”

“Why?”

“There are various rules in the Gion Festival. If you don’t know what they are…”

“You’re bullshitting again.”

“Oh, you beat me to the punch.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

The clock on the wall showed 7 o’clock. Pulling up the blinds and looking out, I saw that even the long summer day was coming to an end. I didn’t notice that we had spent that much time in the bar. Since the nights are short, I had intended to just eat a light meal before going on a walk around Yoiyama.

“Let’s go see this long-awaited Yoiyama,” Otogawa said.

I wanted to go to the bathroom before setting off. Seikitei’s facade wasn’t that wide, but the building extended farther back than I could fathom. A corridor surrounded an inner garden decorated with dense shrubs and stone lanterns.

“It’d be interesting to live in a house like this.”

“Yeah, but there’d be a lot of inconveniences too. It’d be freezing in the winter,” Otogawa said. “Go out from over there by the bathroom slippers. I’ll wait here.”

I pushed open the heavy door and entered a dim storage area. The bathroom was in one corner.

After I did my business and came back, Otogawa was nowhere to be seen. What! I thought, did he give me the slip again? But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me panic, so I pretended to take my time admiring the garden. Can’t take my eyes off him for a second. Just as I was thinking, If he really did trick me for a third time, that would be going too far, I saw something strange.

There was another corridor at the far end of the dimly lit garden.

Something bright and shining slipped out of the sliding door of a room coming off the corridor. It was like those papier-mâché lanterns used in the Nebuta Festival, in the shape of Kintarō. The giant, potbellied Kintarō turned swiftly around and continued silently down the corridor. A young man dressed in work clothes pushed him carefully from behind.

Kintarō turned a corner and disappeared, leaving only an afterimage of the red light in his stomach.

As I stared in astonishment, Otogawa appeared in the place where Kintarō had vanished, grinning as he came down the corridor toward me.

“You thought I’d played you again, didn’t you? I wouldn’t do something that heartless.”

The noise on Yoiyama grew louder when we pulled aside the screen and exited the bar. Tangled silhouettes of utility lines and buildings criss-crossed across the indigo sky as streetlights seemed to float lazily through the town.

The aroma of grilled food from the street stalls wafted on the night breeze.

There were businessmen, old men fanning themselves with round paper fans, women in flamboyant makeup, boys and girls wearing yukata that appeared to be students. As a yukata-clad girl passed me, my eyes were drawn to the nape of her neck.

“So this is what Yoiyama is like.”

The narrow alley was packed with street stalls.

Otogawa started down the street, occasionally meandering toward some particularly delicious smell. He’d always liked buying snacks.

“What will happen if I break the rules that you were talking about earlier?”

“The guys from the preservation society will come get you.”

“You mean the locals?”

“Each neighborhood in charge of building a float has a preservation society. They get together and organize the Gion Festival. The Gion Festival High Council that oversees all the preservation societies is located somewhere near here. If someone disrespects any custom or tradition, they get dragged there and suffer Lord Yoiyama’s punishment.”

“Who’s Lord Yoiyama?”

“Probably the head of the Gion Festival High Council. He has to sort out the logistics of a huge event like the Gion Festival, so I’m sure he’s a terrifying guy. Actually, he might not even be human anymore. All the tourists that get caught and taken there are reduced to tears, I heard. Well, it is an event with a long history, so there are bound to be tons of demons. Can’t have anyone treating it like any old holiday.”

“Isn’t it a holiday though?”

Otogawa loved making up stories, and I was his favorite target. Later, after thinking it over, I’d probably kick myself for believing any of this, but he had such a calm demeanor when spinning his lies that I, more innocent than most, always fell for them hook, line, and sinker. Otogawa often said, “Is it my fault for fooling you? Or is it your fault for being fooled?”

But I’m no longer who I used to be.

　　　　　　　◯

I was simply following Otogawa wherever he went so I had no idea where we were.

No matter where I turned, I saw streets full of the same multi-tenant buildings and family homes built with no visible order, and tons of people walking around. Smoke from the street stalls permeated the air. Otogawa continued onward, rounding a corner with no hesitation. As he did so, I saw, beyond a black mass of people, a float decorated with lanterns rising into the indigo sky. It looked like something out of a dream. In front of a convenience stores were coolers full of bottled water and ice-cold beer. I bought a beer and sipped it as we continued on our way.

I was having fun, but the humidity and my slight drunkenness had left me a bit dazed.

Seeing the festival continue no matter where we went was a bit surreal.

The festivals I was used to were no more than fairs at the local shrine, where the shrine itself was obviously the focus of the event. But I couldn’t tell what the focus of Yoiyama was. I knew it was called the Gion Festival because it was based out of Yasaka Shrine, but the festival was so vast and sprawling that I couldn’t tell where the shrine was at all. It spread out like a shimmering liquid, swallowing the entire city.

These thoughts drifted blearily through my mind.

Cutting through the oppressive, humid air came the sound of a wind chime. The second its crisp, clear tone reached me, all the noises of Yoiyama that had been wrapped around me seemed to fall away. Looking around to see where the sound had come from, I saw, among the crowd, a group of red figures slipping quickly away.

It was a group of girls dressed in gorgeous red yukata.

Although the streets were packed, the girls were able to move lightly through the crowd without bumping into anyone. As I followed their movements, it seemed like time stopped around them. The one in the lead turned her slender neck from side to side and raised a delicate hand, triumphantly showing off the ringing the wind chime those behind her. The girls following her began calling out in a flirtatious voice. Their red yukata stood out boldly against their creamy white skin. Against the deep evening sky, the girls flitted gracefully through the streets like a group of goldfish swimming in a shady canal.

I suddenly thought of the goldfish that swam in the waterway behind our temple. I also remembered Otogawa standing in the water, rescuing goldfish.

Although Otogawa was easy to get along with, he, ironically, never really got used to approaching people. The first time he showed me his fish tank was at the end of autumn during our first year in high school. He had a number of tanks, each with a different water temperature and level of cleanliness. He’d subject his goldfish to more and more severe conditions until he found one that could survive the worst of them. Most of them couldn’t adjust and had to be returned to the more habitable tanks, but he said that there was one that was doing perfectly well. The creature that swam lazily in the murky, weed-clogged tank looked nothing like a goldfish. I jumped back in shock when I saw it.

It was as round as a ball, with tiny fins that looked like jowls. It glared at me, waving its fins as if mocking me. Then it began to attack the unknown powdery substance Otogawa sprinkled into the tank with a voracious appetite.

“That’s not a goldfish,” I blurted out.

“True, it’s not a goldfish anymore. It’s gone through all the levels of training, so I call it a ‘super goldfish’. It’s the world’s strongest goldfish.”

“That’s not a goldfish at all. It’s some creature from the Amazon.”

But Otogawa insisted on calling it a “super” goldfish.

“I’ve been training it for three years, you know. It was cute when I first got it. I’m so glad to see it grow into such an intimidating specimen.”

“Whatever floats your boat…but what’s the point of doing this?”

“Excellent question. There is no point whatsoever.”

Seeing Otogawa laughing delightedly at his, I thought, What a weirdo. But he’s also pretty interesting.

I smiled inwardly as I remembered all this.

I opened my mouth to call out to him, and realized that he’d disappeared.

Huh?

I stopped in the middle of the writhing crowd and looked around. Otogawa was nowhere to be seen. No matter which way I turned, all I could see were people. I took a few steps, peered this way and that, and sighed. I tried calling his cell phone, but he seemed to have turned it off.

Did he play me?

I stood blankly in the sea of people.

Not again!

　　　　　　　◯

During high school, Otogawa would often just up and disappear.

If, when we walked home together, another classmate joined in and struck up a conversation, we would suddenly realize a few minutes later that Otogawa had vanished. At that point, it was too late; no one would know where he’d gone off to. But no one got angry at him for it. “Well, he’s a weird dude,” they’d say, and leave it at that.

When it was just the two of us, he’d be halfway down the street before he finished saying, “I’m going this way, see ya.” He always waited until right before we parted, leaving me with no time to respond. He didn’t seem to care whether I responded or not, but it didn’t feel like he was intentionally being rude. It was just as he said, “I’m going this way.” At those moments, I would stand and watch him leave, as if out of respect. I had no idea why he’d always leave when we reached that street, since his house was in the other direction. I thought maybe he had business to attend to in that area, but there might also have been no reason at all.

I now know the reason, but I still have to admit that I’m jealous of Otogawa.

He wasn’t excluded from the rest of the class, but he wasn’t popular either; he’d disappear down side streets and spend his time wholeheartedly pursuing his little projects. He didn’t feel the need to announce his existence to everyone. As long as he could do what he wanted, all was good. It felt like he was intent on fulfilling his own desires. Talking to him was like a breath of fresh air. It was the wind blowing through the skylight in his head. Any bad mood I carried with me would float away like a balloon being borne high into the sky.

Since I was innocent and sensitive, no matter how good life was, there was always something that irritated or depressed me. When I was angry, though I wasn’t savage enough to blow up at anyone, I would ruminate endlessly and make myself even more upset. At those times, I’d often go to McDonald’s with Otogawa. I would sit stewing silently in my teenage angst, binge eating french fries while Otogawa talked.

“Fujita-kun, do you know how to divide a watermelon evenly?”

After a few minutes, I would begin to feel that life wasn’t so bad after all. I guess I just didn’t have it in me to be angsty.

　　　　　　　◯

I made it to a parking lot after about an hour.

After going all around Yoiyama, I was completely fed up with the insane crowds, so entering the empty parking lot was a huge relief. From the map, it looked like I was near the intersection of Sanjō Street and Muromachi Street. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. Under the street light in the corner floated a red carp streamer the size of steel barrel. I had no idea where it could have come from. As expected from Yoiyama, I thought, it’s got its own character.

I sat down on the blue bench that was in a corner of the parking lot.

As I rested my sore feet, I tried calling Otogawa again. As the the outgoing ringtone was ringing, the smell of mosquito incense wafted toward me. As I looked around for the source, there, hidden in the shadow of the giant carp streamer, stood a kid who looked like Kintarō wearing a red workman’s apron and a sullen expression. His face was shaped like a rounded square and was as white as a rice cake. A round, plate-like vessel hung from his waist, inside which was the mosquito incense.

Just as I was thinking that this kid had really gone all out on his outfit, Otogawa called.

“Fujita-kun?”

“Oy, Otogawa. You left me hanging again.”

“It’s not my fault. I was looking for you too. There are so many people here, once you lose sight of someone they’re impossible to find, you know.”

“I called you a bunch of times,” I said, still staring at the Kintarō-looking kid.

He continued to glare at me while covering the opening of the vessel around his waist to keep in the smoke from the incense. Even I, as an adult, wavered under the intensity of his stare.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone ringing. Where are you now?”

“How would I know? In some parking lot.”

“Parking lot?”

“Where you turn onto Muromachi Street from Sanjō Street. There’s a big-ass red carp streamer…and a kid who looks like Kintarō glaring at me. What does he want from me?”

“Oh crap!” Otogawa shouted. “Fujita-kun, you’re in trouble. You’ve entered a prohibited area.”

“Kintarō’s here too.”

“He’s the lookout. The red carp means the area’s prohibited. If you don’t get out of there quick they’ll drag you off to the Gion Festival High Council and then you’ll be in real deep shit. You’re gonna get your ass reamed by Lord Yoiyama!”

“Huh? Even if you tell me now…”

“That’s why I told you not to wander off on your own.”

I stood up.

In that instant, I heard the sound of glass cracking underfoot. Lifting my foot, I saw the shattered pieces of a Kintarō candy. The Kintarō under the streetlight started coming toward me. When he saw the broken candy, his face contorted like he was about to cry.

“Arrest him! Arrest him!” he shrieked.

Lantern light bloomed all around me. Large ones, small ones, an infinite number of lanterns filled the parking lot, completely surrounding me. Panicked, I tried to run away, but a lantern the size of a steel drum pushed me back imperiously and I began to be more angry than afraid. All the lanterns had “Constable” painted on in thick letters. The leader, a young man in a gaudy happi appeared in front of me.

“We are the Gion Festival High Council Special Police Force.”

“Who now?”

“You are in violation of Section 26 of the Gion Yoiyama Ordinance. Surrender quietly!”

“Wait a minute, calm down. I’m just an ordinary tourist.”

“Seize him!” the young man shouted.

A group of muscular men leaped at me.

In the blink of an eye my hands were tied behind me and what appeared to be a wad of bamboo grass had been stuffed in my mouth. As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, my butt was shoved into a bamboo cage so that I couldn’t move at all. They were treating me like a criminal. As I tried vainly to spit out the grass, I was placed on a mikoshi, which was then carefully lifted.

The young man who seemed to be the leader was talking into a cell phone.

“We’ve secured the intruder and are about to take him in.”

　　　　　　　◯

My butt still stuck in the bamboo cage, I was carried unceremoniously up a ladder that was leaning against the concrete wall at the far end of the parking lot. Between the wall and the dark wooden fence opposite it ran a long, thin alley.

At the end of the alley I could see orange light spilling out of a sliding door.

The men who ran ahead opened the door, and the men who carried me rushed inside. We went down the hall and almost kicked in the sliding door as we screeched to a stop inside room at the far end. I saw a glittering, gold-leafed folding screen. Around the room were arranged numerous fish bowls, inside which goldfish flashed a brilliant red. A man dressed in traditional clothing and holding a folding fan sat at a Japanese-style writing desk, turning a kaleidoscope over and over. His cheeks glowed with good-health, and he sported a small mustache in a style not often seen in this era. The nameplate on his desk read “Antique Store”.

I, along with my caged butt, was deposited in front of him.

He glared sullenly at me. The young man who brought me here presented him with a piece of paper.

He barely glanced at it before shouting, “Look what you’ve done! Reprobate!”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed there,” I shouted, spitting grass. “Listen to me!”

“Your testimony is rejected!”

“Wait! Wait!”

“Don’t try to deny it! Imbecile! Repent to Lord Yoiyama!”

He slammed a giant seal on the paper and said, “That’s why I always say you casual tourists are nothing but trouble.”

He clapped his hands and the golden screen folded away, revealing a glass door that opened automatically. I was picked up again, my protests going completely unheard.

The glass door led to a small garden. The mikoshi bumped into a stone lantern with a dull thud. We passed through the garden and out a wooden door. The street outside was hung with paper lanterns, under which were figures of beckoning cats and Shigaraki tanuki. We passed by cat, tanuki, cat, tanuki, cat, tanuki, cat, tanuki, cat, tanuki. Just as I was getting dizzy from looking at them, the street ended and we were outside another wooden door.

On the other side was a traditional dry garden. The mikoshi made its way through the perfectly spread sand and along a veranda to a stately house. The room on the first floor was full of people slurping sōmen. Across the length of the room ran an interminably long bamboo flume, through which noodles flowed endlessly. Everyone’s attention was on the noodles and nobody even glanced at the mikoshi.

We went up the stairs to the second floor. The wind was howling so loudly that I wondered if there was a storm, but upon entering the room I saw that there was a giant wind blower like the ones used in photoshoots. At the far end of the room was a row of pinwheels spinning at dizzying speeds, and from the lintel hundreds of wind chimes were ringing in wild cacophony. In front of the pinwheels stood a maiko. She held a fluttering carp streamer in her left hand and a large hagoita painted with a picture of a red carp in her right.

I was questioned again with my butt still stuck in the cage.

“I am told you entered a prohibited shrine, unbidden?” she asked in a soft voice, waving the hagoita back and forth. “And furthermore, tread upon a Kintarō candy and crushed it underfoot? You rapscallion, you knave!”

She came toward me, “What dark schemes lurk in your mind?”

“I’m not scheming anything!”

“Only a wolf would claim such innocence in the guise of a lamb. Your guilt, sirrah, is quite manifest! No simple visitor are you. What intrigues have you devised? I bid you, speak!”

“I said I’m not.”

“Verily? Then you deny that you were plotting to assassinate Lord Yoiyama?”

“I’ve never seen nor heard of Lord Yoiyama! I have nothing to do with him!”

“You dare think to assassinate Lord Yoiyama…only death may assuage the guilt of this crime.”

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Listen to what I’m saying!”

She picked up a brush and swiftly signed a piece of paper.

“Show our guest out!” she said, and whacked me on the crown of the head with the hagoita.

Stars burst in front of my eyes.

“May you be properly punished by Lord Yoiyama.”

I was carried out into a long hallway, still dazed from the blow.

The hallway was lined with wooden lamps and hundreds of glass orbs hung from the ceiling. Each had a live goldfish inside. As the floor creaked with each step of the men carrying the mikoshi, the fish bowls overhead also clinked loudly against each other.

After passing through a large window at the end of the hall, we went down another wooden walkway going across the top of a roof. I could hear the Gionbayashi in the distance. As we continued step by step across the walkway, I saw that it went through the laundry deck on the roof of another house. Standing on the laundry deck was a bearded monk, his face and torso completely coated in white powder, hugging a golden lucky cat. Two torches blazed on either side of him.

I nearly passed out from the sheer absurdity of it all.

As the wind roared past the speeding mikoshi, I accepted that I was being taken to the Gion Festival High Council, but still could not figure out the reason for it. I was sure there was some kind of mistake. I hadn’t committed any heinous crime that warranted being abused by one person after another. But I couldn’t help wondering if this kind of disproportionate punishment was the true purpose behind ancient customs. To make you think that it’s better to confess and apologize for any and all crimes. I didn’t know what awaited me at the Gion Festival High Council. Maybe it was better to repent before the monster that was the boss of Yoiyama appeared.

Kyoto must be feared, the Gion Festival must be feared, Yoiyama must be feared.

An ordinary person like me should never have gone off alone.

Finally, the mikoshi stopped in front of the monk. His terrible gaze fell upon me.

“Kanjizai bosatsu!” he roared, and crushed the golden lucky cat in his hand to dust.

My soul nearly left my body. I tried my hardest to burrow deeper into the bamboo cage.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“Shō ken go un kai kū do issai ku yaku sharishi…”

The torches crackled as the monk continued chanting vigorously. I grew up in a temple so I knew right away it was the Heart Sutra. But I didn’t know why he was chanting it. While he chanted, he grabbed the prayer beads hanging from his waist and started munching them. By the firelight, I could see that they were actually hellgrammites stewed in soy sauce and sugar.

“Of all the ridiculous…” I muttered.

The monk’s eyes snapped open. “Toku anokutara sanmyakusanbodai kochi hannyaharamita” he chanted, taking out a long hand towel.

He twisted the towel in to a thin rope and leaned toward me. Is he going to strangle me? Is that why he’s reciting the sutra? Is he Lord Yoiyama? These and a number of other thoughts flashed through my mind. By this point I was too terrified to speak.

“Hara sō gyatei boji sowaka sō gyatei”

The powder-covered monk tied the towel around my eyes.

“…boji sowaka.”

　　　　　　　◯

Since I could no longer see, I didn’t know what route the mikoshi was taking.

It seemed like we had arrived somewhere crowded. I could smell street food. Then I heard the men carry me into a building and down a long hallway. Next they trotted up some stairs, chanting, “One, two, one, two.” I heard a lock being turned and felt the night breeze on my cheeks. My nearly departed soul gradually returned to my body.

There was the sound of a door sliding open, and the breeze vanished. It seemed like we were indoors again.

At long last, my butt was freed from the cage, the ropes around my hands were untied, and the blindfold removed. Around me, the monk, the men carrying the mikoshi, the maiko with the hagoita, and the man who looked like the Laughing Buddha with the kaleidoscope were all lying prostrate on the floor. No one made a sound.

The room I was in had sliding paper doors on all sides. It looked like the back of a stage, or the storage room of an antiques store, with items crowded all around.

There were Japanese umbrellas, jars, chests of drawers, a spectacularly ornate doll, next to which was a large oak desk with a celadon porcelain plate on top, inside which were piled a number of kaleidoscopes the size of coffee cans. There were yet more paper lanterns. Old lamps and orchid-shaped glass objects, bottles of Akadama port wine, lucky cats and Shigaraki tanuki, streamers, wooden lamps, stone lanterns, large fans, Boys’ Day dolls…

Across from me sat a man who looked like someone you’d see at the Jidai Festival, dressed like an aristocrat from the Heian Period. Next to them was a lantern with the words “Goldfish” painted on it; facing them on the right side was the Nebuta-style papier-mâché Kintarō, and on the left side was a papier-mâché Momotarō, both glowing dazzlingly. The man leaned on his armrest, kneading, with apparent effort, some white fluffy material that looked like cotton. When he finally managed to roll it all into a large ball, he smiled in satisfaction. He raised a fan painted with a grotesque goldfish to his mouth and glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.

“I act as Lord Yoiyama’s proxy,” he said in falsetto. His face was entirely painted with white powder, apart from two red spots on his cheeks.

I prostrated myself, just in case.

“Fujita, thou hast violated the commandments of Yoiyama and wound us deep by thine defilement of its ancient traditions. Doubt not the wrathful fury of Lord Yoiyama, his tiger-footed rage.”

I had no idea what he was saying.

But since I had already been released from my bonds, I had no reason to stay and wait for some ridiculous punishment to be rained down upon me. I began to plot my escape as the man continued on in his unintelligible language.

“Lord Yoiyama shall mete his punishment by fire,” he said, picking up the ball he had rolled earlier.

“You were serious about the punishment? I thought it was just a figure of speech.”

“My, how rude,” the maiko said, reaching out to hit me with the hagoita.

I leaped up and tried to make a run for it, but the monk caught me easily with one hand and pinned me to the tatami. How hot is this fire going to be? I just came to Yoiyama to sightsee, why did I have to get captured by this group of lunatics and burned alive? As these thoughts ran through my mind, everything suddenly went dark.

“Lord Yoiyama has arrived!”

The monk let go of me. The group that had brought me here retreated as one. I was alone in the middle of the room.

Yoiyama’s skylight opened.

The ceiling rolled up from the ends of the room and disappeared, leaving only the night sky above. The four sliding doors around me fell with a boom and let in the night breeze. It looked like I was on the roof of an old building in the center of the city. I stared dumbfounded at the glittering lights that stretched out endlessly into the distance. Every street was inundated with festival lights.

Across from the papier-mâché Kintarō and Momotarō, a float-like contraption hung full of lanterns painted with the words “Goldfish” came toward me on silent wheels. Between each lantern swayed an orb with a goldfish inside. The goldfish swimming back and forth looked even more vibrant in the lantern light. A laundry pole tied with straw ropes and decorated with twinkling Christmas lights stuck out from the top of the entire thing. On top of a pedestal surrounded by the lanterns was a large box covered by a screen.

As I stood up to get a better look, Kingyohoko came to a stop in front of me.

The laundry pole let off a volley of fireworks that exploded in the night sky.

And the terrifying Lord Yoiyama that brought groups of tourists to tears finally arrived—

The screen around the box drew up silently.

Behind it was a giant fish tank that looked big enough to house a mola mola.

In the light of the hanging lanterns floated a corpulent, mutinous monster that could no longer be called a goldfish, or perhaps had never been a goldfish. Fluttering its disproportionately tiny fins, it settled at the center of the tank and glared out at the sight of Yoiyama below. Even though its noble name deemed it the lord of Yoiyama, I knew the creature’s humble origins better than anyone else.

“Super goldfish!” I murmured.

The Heian Period aristocrat standing beside me said in a singsong voice, “Is it my fault for fooling you? Or is it your fault for being fooled—”

　　　　　　　◯

Otogawa and I gazed lazily at Kingyohoko as the breeze blew past us. He hit a switch hidden in his fan and the Christmas lights started flashing in a different pattern.

Behind us, the monk, maiko, Laughing Buddha, and the men who carried the mikoshi were busy cleaning up. It reminded me of being in a school festival.

Otogawa offered me some grilled hellgrammites.

“Is that actually edible?”

“It’s good for virility. The super goldfish is proof.”

“Did you really create the goldfish by feeding it that stuff?”

“Well, well.” Otogawa grinned. “Anyway, this is Yoiyama, Fujita-kun.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“To be honest, preparing all this was a huge pain in the ass. It was so much work I considered giving up. Even though I might seem cheap saying this, but this really took a whole lot of time and money.”

“I can tell.”

“Were you surprised? Did you really think you were about to be burned alive by Lord Yoiyama?”

“I just have one question. What was the point of doing all this?”

“Excellent question. There was no point, none at all.” Otogawa laughed delightedly. “But it opened the skylight in your head, didn’t it?”