"So the thing about friends is that they're like, eh, you know, like... Y'know," Zerozaki said with a cynical smile. The tattoo scrawled across the right side of his face wrinkled unpleasantly.
"What do you think?"
"You're actually asking me? I thought this was going to be some kind of spiel."
"Hah, don't expect me to do everything. They say if you want to figure out your own opinion, you gotta ask others theirs, right? So let's hear it. What do you think? What is a friend?"
"It's not such a hard question. It's just someone you hang out with, have meals with, joke around about stupid things with. Someone who brings you peace. That kind of thing, right?" he said.
"You got it. Exactamundo. If you look at it that way, friends are such a simple thing, man, like pie. You hang out, you eat together, act stupid, and feel peaceful together, and that makes you friends. If you come to each other's rescue, you're close friends. If you smooch each other sometimes, you're lovers. Oh, what a treasure of life friendship is!" he said with a sneer.
"So the question here is, how long do these friendships last? A year? Five years? Ten years? Forever? Until tomorrow?"
"Is your point that even friendships come to an end?"
"My point is that all things come to an end."
"Well, sure. But without endings, there could be no beginnings. That's the vital subtext. If you're looking to gain something, you've got to be prepared to sacrifice one-third of it. If you want a payoff, you've got to take a risk. If you can't do that, you're better off just living with what you've got."
"..."
"Gahaha. I guess you must be that type."
I had no need for things I would just lose in time. If it was just going to end anyway, it didn't have to begin. I had no need for pleasure if it came accompanied by pain.
"Why? Are you any different?" I asked.
If it meant never being sad, I didn't have to be happy.
If it meant never fading, I didn't have to succeed.
Evolution loaded with risk was a waste of time.
"Eh, but in reality, that's all true whether you're after something or not," I said.
"No doubt."
Zerozaki laughed.
I didn't.
Be that as it may.
Three hours had passed since the party began. I won't get into what happened during those three hours. Nobody particularly wants others to see what they're like when they're drunk, and they certainly don't want to have the details relayed from person to person.
No matter how people feel while they're drinking, it's inevitable afterward that good old shame comes to pay them a visit. It's difficult to determine which is real: the person you are under the influence of alcohol, or the person you are when you're sober. But one thing's for sure: A wild night spent in good fun isn't something you want to try to recount later on. It's one of those "unpaintable scenes" like Urashima Tarô talked about.
Still, if I were to dare to share a little vignette of the evening's festivities just for kicks, it would go something like this:
"So whaddaya call a rock made of oxygen and nitrogen?"
"Quartz! Gaaahahahaha!"
"That's like a two-hundred shot barrage from a water-cooled heavy machine gun — only it's an assassin squad!"
"Shit, that aside, it's hot today. Why is it so hot in the middle of May? Is it global warming? Is it the greenhouse effect?"
"What?! Listen here, chump, if you want to complain about the summer heat, you answer to me! Bring it!"
"Are you the one they caught in Catcher in the Rye?!"
"It's a tropical night, that's what it is."
"Then I guess that makes me a tropical fish!"
And so three hours passed.
At present, Mikoko-chan, Akiharu-kun, and Tomo-chan were playing PS2. It looked like a racing game. Realistically depicted four-wheeled machines sped around the narrow on-screen circuit.
Huh. I wouldn't go so far as to call it tantalizing, but there was something rather pleasant about watching them all so fully immersed in their fun. It looked like they were willing to share some of that happiness with me, and somehow that made me surprisingly lonely.
"Well, I guess even this is—"
Someone slapped me on the shoulder. It was Muimi-chan. Apparently a heavy drinker, she didn't seem any different from when she was sober, even from a bystander's point of view.
She didn't call herself Boss for nothing. Not that she called herself Boss at all.
"Wanna go outside for a bit?" she asked, pointing toward the entrance. "Let's go to the convenience store."
"What about Mikoko-chan and the others?"
"We can just let 'em be. They don't know what's going on right now anyway."
She was right about that. I nodded and left the room with her. We got back into the elevator, traveled down to the first floor, and exited the building.
"Is the convenience store close by?"
"Eh, it's a bit of a walk. But c'mon, let's walk a little bit. It'll help me sober up."
"You don't really seem drunk though."
"Maybe not on the surface, but I'm pretty far gone. It feels like my brain's flipped upside down so my cerebrum and cerebellum are switched. Right now I wanna kick the crap outta that sign."
"Just don't kick the crap out of me."
"I'll try," she said with a little laugh. She shook her head and looked up toward the sky.
"Doesn't really feel like a birthday party," I said. "I wonder if this is really enough to make Tomo-chan happy. She's still drunk now, but I wonder if she'll get depressed about it later."
"Yeah, I wonder... But it's still better than being depressed from the very beginning. Yeah. It's all good. You don't need a good reason to get wild. Ahh... I'm groggy."
"You look pretty exhausted, Muimi-chan."
"Well, that's what I get for hanging out with those guys."
My sentiments exactly. Mikoko-chan was spunky enough to begin with, but when she was inebriated, she was four times as bad. Then there was Akiharu-kun, and even Tomo-chan was getting pretty rowdy.
"Man, if you think about it, I guess being able to hold your liquor so well puts you at a kind of disadvantage. It must be hard to follow along with the mood."
"Exactly. I mean, it's still fun, so it's no big deal."
"You think it's okay to leave those three drunks in a room unattended?"
"They're not kids. They'll be fine. Actually, it's probably more dangerous to be walking around outside in the middle of the night," she said.
A good point. We were in the midst of the Kyoto Slasher serial murders. So that was why she bothered taking me along with her. I may look scrawny and unreliable, but I'm still a guy, in a manner of speaking.
"What a messed-up world, huh? What could be enjoyable about chopping up a human being?"
"Well, different strokes, I guess." I tried to brush off the topic. If I was thrust into a conversation about it, there was a chance I would let my tongue slip. It wasn't that Zerozaki had told me to keep my mouth shut, but it sure wasn't the kind of thing I wanted everyone and their mother to know about.
"I can't understand it at all," she said. "I mean, I've been around for twenty years now. Even I've thought to myself before, 'I oughta kill that bastard.' Actually, it happens a lot. Even nowadays. Like, 'this person would be better off dead. Killing him would serve the greater good.' "
"...."
"But what's up with these random killings? I can't understand the idea of finding pleasure in the act of killing itself."
"In general, they say serial killers who choose their targets at random are fueled by resentment. So it's just like when you say to yourself, 'I oughta kill that bastard'," I said.
"Really? But then, the killings aren't random."
"It's a little different, though. In this killer's case, he resents the victims simply because they happened to walk by. He resents the world as a whole. He hates the world that surrounds him, a world that, for him, is as vague and nebulous as the air. And so, his killings appear to be random."
"Hmm..." She nodded, but to be honest, I was only speculating. I had no idea why he was committing acts of murder. We had only talked about stupid, irrelevant things the previous night, and never touched upon the topic of his motives.
We were probably saving the best for last, childish as that may sound.
"It's just nonsense, though," I said.
Muimi-chan scratched her head at me.
While we were talking, we eventually reached the convenience store. She entered ahead of me and quickly made her way to the liquor section.
"You're buying more alcohol?"
"Nah, there's already plenty of that. Let's get some Pocari. Gotta sober those guys up or they won't be able to get home."
"Ah, gotcha."
We put three two-liter bottles of Pocari sports drinks in a basket, picked out two or three types of snacks, and proceeded to settle up at the register. Maybe I should've expected this, but I ended up carrying everything.
As we left the store, Muimi-chan pulled a cigarette from her pocket, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it with a cool-looking Zippo, all in one fluid motion.
"Ah!" she said, and immediately went to extinguish it with her finger.
"I don't care if you smoke one. We're outside, anyway."
"Really?"
"Well, I guess it's rude to smoke and walk at the same time, but since it's night and nobody's around, it's probably fine as long as you don't litter ashes everywhere." And, indeed, there was no one around who'd object to her blowing smoke everywhere as she walked.
"Well... Nah, it's okay. I'll stick to my decision." She went ahead and snuffed it with her finger. Then, she curled up the cigarette butt and put it in her pocket. It seemed she wasn't the littering type. I was a little impressed: For a college student, she had above-average morals.
"If you don't mind my asking, isn't that hot?" I said.
"Not really. I'm used to it," she said with a slightly bashful smile. "There was this Mafia boss bad guy in a movie I used to like, and he did the same thing with cigars. With the palm of his hand, like this. It was cool, so I started imitating it."
"Huh."
"Huh."
"Looking back, I just thought the actor was hot, but it's a habit now. Anyway, that aside... Ikkun, let's talk seriously for a minute." Her expression immediately grew serious, changing as abruptly as a circuit switch. I couldn't help but be a little surprised. "It's pretty tough keeping up with Mikoko's hyperness, huh?"
"Not particularly.''
"Huh," she said. Her expression grew all the more serious. She hesitated for a moment. "What do you think of her?" she asked me.
"What do I think?"
Judging from her expression, she wasn't looking for some halfhearted bullshit answer.
But I couldn't figure out what that question was supposed to mean. I didn't really think much of anything about her.
"Well, I think she's got a little bit of red in her hair. She's around five feet tall, and may or may not weigh as much as one hundred ten. From the way she acts, I'd guess she's a type B, and her astrological sign is probably one of the beasts. She's got a kind of koalaish feel in general."
"Did you really think I was looking for a half-assed answer like that?" she asked.
Whoops. Delinquent mode. Why oh why do I so love stepping on land mines, I wondered. I broke eye contact with her.
"I dunno. I mean, she's a nice girl, I guess. Sure she's a little overly hyper, which can be exhausting, but I know a girl who's even worse than her, so it doesn't particularly bother me."
"Huh. How neutral of you."
"Well, I don't like making waves."
"Is that a fact?"
She paused for a moment, then gave me a sort of sidelong glance.
"You're kind of a slimeball, aren't you, Ikkun?" she asked.
"I'm self-aware."
"Self-aware, huh? I wonder. I wouldn't know. Anyway, let me give you a word of advice." She took a step ahead and turned to face me directly. I had no choice but to stop. The apartment building was still about a hundred feet away. Surely, the others were still inside the racing. Muimi-chan ran her fingers through her Sauvage hair and shot me a direct glare.
"Mikoko and I have been friends since we were just little brats."
"Huh."
"If you hurt her, I'll never forgive you."
I scratched my head a bit. Why was she telling me this? Could it be that she was mad because of all the times I had teased Mikoko-chan up to now? It didn't seem like the kind of thing to take so seriously, but Muimi-chan sure didn't seem to be joking, so I answered with a shrug.
"It's okay. Despite how it seems, I'm actually nice to my friends."
She blinked her narrowed eyes at me. "Hahahahaha!" she laughed. A moment later, she spun back around. "I stand corrected." She recommenced walking. "You're just clueless."
It felt like a terrible insult, but at the same time, it was probably the most accurate description anyone had ever applied to me in all my nineteen years, so it was hard to get mad.
We returned to the room to find that the others were indeed still racing. Surprisingly, Tomo-chan was apparently the most skilled. Mikoko-chan was a lap behind.
"Yo! Guzzle down this Pocari, you goons! You drunken bitches!"
For some reason, Muimi-chan had suddenly gone berserk, smacking the "drunken bitches" in the heads with Pocari. Being hit in the head with a full plastic bottle should have been fairly painful, but they were so thoroughly numb with a drink they didn't even seem to mind.
I don't like noisiness. I hate boisterousness. Loud situations irritate me.
But on occasion, like maybe once a year, maybe these things are kind of nice. Or so I thought.
I was wrong.