Yellow Brick Road

At the wharf, there stand four or five red brick warehouses, and the road passing in front of these warehouses is also paved with bricks. Amidst the rising high-rise buildings, that area seemed to be enveloped in an ancient time from an older era. Passing through the brick-paved street leads to a square. At the back of that square stands a restaurant entirely encased in glass. Half of the building is poised over the sea, extending a long pier towards the ocean from its terrace. Several cruisers painted in white, blue, yellow, and red were moored along that pier. The scene portrayed a futuristic setting different from the brick-laden streets in the vicinity.
The square in front of that restaurant is somewhat of an overlooked or forgotten triangle zone in the city. It's always empty, so whenever we play baseball there, we say,
"Let's head to Yeburi."
"Yeah, Yeburi it is,"
we'd say and pedal our bikes away. We call that square "Yeburi" because the restaurant's name is "Yellow Brick Road." We've abbreviated and connected it, a cool way of referring to it that liberates us, something unique to us.
Anyways, the stupid moms are shoving us into cram schools, swimming clubs, piano lessons, English language academies, here and there, making our everyday lives busy. So, when we kick those things aside and all gather to go to Yeburi, our hearts ignite with excitement.
 And maybe it was just my own experience, but it made me feel a bit warm inside. On the way to Yeburi, I always encountered a foreign girl with a shepherd, curiously enough. She was incredibly cute. Whenever we passed each other, she greeted us with a smile like spring, saying "Hi." When Yuuta, Kenji, or Mamoru met her, they'd say things like "Hello," "This is Japan," or "This is a foreigner." But eventually, they started saying rude things like "This is a vagina" or "This is testicles," laughing in a crass and vulgar manner, which made me incredibly embarrassed. I wondered what she would think if she understood Japanese. With such thoughts, I'd glance at her discreetly. And then, the girl would send a rose-like smile directly to me, emphasizing it more towards me alone.
 On that day, everyone's excitement to play baseball surged, leading us to collectively brush off cram schools, swimming clubs, and abacus lessons, all to head to Yeburi. However, I had forgotten my homework and, as a consequence, was assigned to cleaning duty as punishment. Consequently, I ended up leaving for home later than everyone else, frustrated by having wasted time on such matters. Eager to reclaim that time lost, I sprinted home at full speed. I slammed my school bag on the bed, threw my glove, ball, and bat into a duffel bag, and quickly jammed my Karakoram GT gear into the top compartment before heading towards Yeburi.
I pedaled furiously, crossed Tennozu Bridge, then Terada Warehouse Bridge, and further crossed the Waka Shio Wharf Bridge. As I was about to turn onto the street lined with red brick warehouses, suddenly a shepherd leaped out in front of me. I attempted to brake and swerve quickly, but in my haste, I oversteered and tumbled onto the road.
"Are you okay?" the girl screamed. It was her. Despite the pain shooting through me, I was more concerned about her. "I'm fine, I'm fine, totally fine."
"Oh, there's blood. This is serious. It looks painful."
The girl took out a handkerchief from her purse and tried to press it against the area around my knee, which was oozing blood. I repeated, "I'm fine, I'm fine, completely okay," and then I lifted the fallen bike.
"Hey, use this. I'll give it to you," she said, offering me the handkerchief. Partly because my dad always says men should endure things and partly because I wanted to appear cool to her, I joked, "I'm okay, I don't need this for a little injury," as I swung my leg back over the Karakoram GT and pedaled, trying to leave her behind.
Even while playing baseball that day, thoughts of her lingered in my mind, causing a sweet, pulsating sensation in my chest whenever I thought of her.
 It was a boring Sunday. I ended up having a fight with my little sister again. Lately, she's been incredibly cheeky.
"You, brat like you should just disappear somewhere," I said.
"What about you? A delinquent brat like you should go away," she retorted.
"You, crappy kid like you should just drop dead," I fired back.
"You, a forgetful brat who's always made to stand, always getting scolded, lazy with chores, always leaving the toilet door open, a dirty brat who hates taking baths..."
She bombarded me with insults and complaints, so I ended up using force, making her cry. That's when mom rushed in, scolding and scolding. I, too, kept protesting, and finally, my mom said, "Then leave if you don't like it so much. If it bothers you that much, you can just leave." So, I replied, "Fine, I'll leave."
 I jammed the gear of my Karakoram GT into the top level and pedaled furiously. I was seething with anger. The enraged fury was the engine of my Karakoram GT. I was heading towards the wharf. I wanted to meet her. I thought that if I saw her, if I saw her rose-like smile, this raging engine of anger within me would vanish in an instant, and I'd regain a calm and gentle heart.
Crossing Tennozu Bridge, then Terada Warehouse Bridge, and heading towards the Waka Shio Wharf Bridge should lead me to the red brick warehouse complex. However, I didn't reach the Waka Shio Wharf Bridge. What could be going on? There was only one road leading to the wharf. There was no way I could have taken the wrong path. As I rode, pondering this odd occurrence, two strange stories suddenly came to my mind.
 One story was about Mamoru. On that particular day, Mamoru's family decided to go to "Yeburi" for a meal and set off in their car toward "Yeburi." However, despite driving around for over an hour, they never managed to reach "Yeburi." When we heard that story, we all made fun of clumsy Mamoru.
Right after hearing such a story, my parents, for their wedding anniversary, went to Yeburi for a private dinner. However, my father, wearing an exasperated expression, said, "We went to Yeburi, but there was no such restaurant there, not at all." My mother criticized, "Even though we went out to settle the Yeburi debate, it's no good if you don't correctly write the map."
 They were trying to settle the Yeburi debate: my father was absolutely certain it was Elton John, while my mother insisted that if she sang "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road," the restaurant would immediately go out of business. She was adamant that it was definitely taken from the movie "The Wizard of Oz." They were trying to verify which of these two theories was correct by visiting the restaurant that day. However, when I followed the map I had drawn, there was no Yeburi.
Those two stories crossed my mind. Thinking it was all nonsense, I continued down the road, but I found myself heading towards a massive power plant and a sanitation plant. This was odd. What was going on? I stopped, made a U-turn to start over, and went back to Terada Warehouse Bridge. Making another U-turn, I then headed towards Waka Shio Wharf Bridge again. When I finally reached Waka Shio Wharf Bridge, I thought, "Well, there it is."
 Crossing the Waka Shio Wharf Bridge and arriving at the square after passing through the red brick street, that girl with the shepherd leapt into my sight. Despite rushing on my Karakoram GT to see her, when I actually laid eyes on her, I felt a sudden urge to hide somewhere. For a moment, I hesitated on what to do, but the girl noticed me and dashed straight towards me.
"Hi!" the girl said with a rose-like smile. I stopped my bike and awkwardly responded, "Um... uh..."
"Is your injury from last time okay?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, it was nothing serious."
"I'm glad. It's nice to see you. So, what's your name?"
"I'm Shigeru Murano."
"Okay, I can call you 'Shige,' right? I'm Catherine. You can call me Cathy."
"Cathy, huh?"
"This dog, his name is Jiro."
"Jiro, huh?"
"Nice to meet you, Jiro."
The obedient dog looked up at me.
"You speak Japanese well."
"Well, of course. I've been learning Japanese since elementary school in America."
"Oh, I see."
"Also, Japan and America are really close, even if the Pacific Ocean lies between us."
"Well..."
Although there's a vast ocean, the Pacific, separating Japan and America, in a sense, they're like siblings. So, I added,
"Where are you living now?"
"In LA."
"LA?"
"Los Angeles. We call it LA."
"I see. So, did you come to Japan for sightseeing or..."
"Not really. I'm accompanying my mom. She has someone she likes in Japan. Like once every ten days or at times once a week, she comes to meet that person. And at those times, she takes me along. Of course, Mom has Dad. She loves Dad, of course. But she also loves this Japanese person."
The words "That's called having an affair" almost slipped out, but I stopped myself, realizing I shouldn't say such things. Then, unexpectedly, the girl seemed to peek into my thoughts.
"It's not really an affair. Mom is... cool."
"Cool?"
"Mom says she can't miss out on either. She loves both. If she lost one, there would be no life for Mom. That's why Mom is a cool woman."
The girls in my class talk about quite mature things. Although she said she was the same age as me, she seemed much older than that.
"Hey, Shige. Do you want to see my mom and that man? My mom and that man always sit at the table by the window. So, you can see them from the outside. You can tell by the way they talk when the conversation is about to end."
"Meanwhile, are you walking Jiro?"
"Yeah, don't you think my mom has a nice daughter?"
We headed towards the wharf. At that moment, I thought that since this girl was American, she might understand my parents' debate about Yeburi.
"Hey, my dad insists that the restaurant's name was definitely taken from Elton John."
"Elton John?"
"Yeah, Elton John."
"Who's that person?"
"You know, 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.'"
"What's that?"
"Huh, you've never heard of 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'? How's the song go? Sing a bit for me."
The bench lined along the pier's edge facing the sea. We sat on that bench, offering a clear view into the restaurant. A woman and a man sat by the window-side table, separated by a smaller table. The woman was that girl's mom. Her partner, with a stubbly beard, bore a slight resemblance to a TV drama actor. So, I commented.
"That man looks cool, right?"
"Yeah, he's really nice. Surely Shige, when you grow up, you'll be such a nice man."
"Nah, that's impossible."
I recalled my dad and mentioned it. Cathy's mom was also a wonderful woman. However, the man seemed somewhat pained, occasionally wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.
"Is he being bullied?" I wondered aloud. Cathy smirked.
"No, it's not that. The man is already talking about breaking up. It's not about hating each other. It's about not being able to endure it anymore. He doesn't want you to return to America. You should be with me. He can't bear this painful relationship anymore. It's unbearable to endure this kind of agony, where your heart and soul feel torn. It's easier to break up and erase you from my life entirely."
"So, love means claiming ownership, huh?" I tried a cliché line from some cheesy TV show I'd seen once.
"Or rather, that man struggles with not being able to break free from old morals. Mom is a person of new morals. To love Mom means becoming a person of new morals. But morals aren't about discarding old things or buying new ones, right? Mom truly likes that man. She doesn't want to lose him."
"I see," I said, but I didn't fully understand those words.
"So, once we're done talking here, you're going back today?"
"Yes."
"Then you're heading to Narita?"
"Why Narita?" she asked. That's when I started getting confused.
"Well, because you're flying back, right?"
"Why flying? It's so close. There's a cruiser over there. I'm going back on that."
A white cruiser was moored at the end of the pier that jutted into Tokyo Bay. Cathy pointed towards the boat. I couldn't help but sound surprised.
"Wait, that one?"
"Yes, my house is in a waterfront area called Sandy Hook."
"But if you're going back on that, won't it take several days?"
"Is that sarcasm or a joke? That old cruiser is quite fast, surprisingly. It's just around 30 minutes."
Lately, new buildings have been rapidly erected on reclaimed land in Tokyo Bay. I pondered if there might be a spot named LA in such an area, but I still had my strong doubts, so I asked.
"Is this 'LA' where you live actually in America?"
"Yes, it is. Today's foggy, so I can't see the LA skyscrapers at all."
Understood. I've heard that Americans are good at jokes, and it seemed like a joke. So, thinking it was a jest, I lightly played along, saying:
"It might really be visible. Our teacher mentioned once that the American continent is gradually moving westward at a few millimeters per year, so eventually, Japan and America will join together, right?"
"That's what the ancients used to say. Long ago, there was a vast ocean called the Pacific between Japan and America."
The conversation seemed to be taking an odd turn. Sensing a bizarre turn in the conversation, I firmly stated:
"But even now, the Pacific Ocean still exists."
"We don't call it the Pacific now. It's the Friendship Channel. I prefer the term 'Yuujiou ' over the English 'Pacific.' I like the sound of 'Yuujiou' very much, like 'Ijo' and 'Myojo' don't you think?"
" Hey, this year is 2004, right?"
"What are you saying? This year is 3752. Why 2004? Shigel, are you living in such an ancient time? Live in the present properly."
"3752..."
"Yes, it's 3752."
"3752..."
"That's right, 3752."
"3752."
Once I said this, the girl clapped her hands and said, "Welcome to the present. Shigel has finally awakened from the ancient slumber."
At that moment, I thought, "She's a bit strange or maybe a bit off." She then said, "Oh, looks like my mom and her friend finished talking. I have to go home now. Hey, Shigel, be friends with me. Is that okay?"
Although this girl seemed a bit different or maybe a little strange, I still wanted to be friends with her, so I answered, "Sure, that's fine."
I watched as the girl ran into the restaurant with Jiro, and even though I found it hard to leave the pier, I stood there. From the terrace, I could see the girl, Jiro, and her mother coming out onto the pier. The girl spotted me and shouted loudly:
"Goodbye, let's meet again!"
The girl, her mother, and Jiro boarded a white cruiser moored at the end of the pier. The cruiser's engine started, and it slowly pulled away from the pier. The girl on the deck kept waving at me.
The autumn sun was rapidly setting. I revved up my Karakorum GT, passed through the red brick warehouse area, crossed the Wakashio Port Bridge, the Terada Warehouse Bridge, and then the Tennozu Bridge. It was just a ten-minute ride to my home from there. I was feeling much calmer now. I was ready to apologize to my sister. My mother's earlier hysteria seemed to have disappeared. I expected a warm welcome when I got home, with an offer to wash my hands before dinner.
However, what appeared in front of me was the Terada Warehouse Bridge. Hadn't I just crossed that bridge a moment ago? I had been riding straight and never made a U-turn. This couldn't be happening. I pressed on, and there was another bridge. What on earth was going on? This was the Wakashio Port Bridge. What was happening here? I couldn't believe it. I crossed the Wakashio Bridge, determined to see the strange phenomenon to the end.
What appeared next was the red brick warehouse district, with its brick road. As I rode through the street, it led me back to Yeburi. Night had fallen over the square, and the "Yellow Brick Road," bathed in yellow lights, stood defiantly against the night.
I had returned to where I started. What was happening? What had caused this? I walked around the square in confusion, trying to clear my head. Gradually, I regained my composure and identified the source of the problem. The problem had occurred at Tennozu Bridge. When I crossed Tennozu Bridge, I had unconsciously made a U-turn. I see, that's what happened. Alright, next time I reach that point, I'll stay calm, look around, and ride straight through.
I passed through the red brick warehouse district, crossed the Wakashio Port Bridge, crossed the Terada Warehouse Bridge, and crossed the Tennozu Bridge. Alright, this is it. I must absolutely not make a U-turn from here. My goal was to reach the coastal road with the Metropolitan Expressway on top. However, what appeared ahead was another bridge. It was the Terada Warehouse Port Bridge. What on earth? Why was this happening? Was I dreaming? Was I running within a dream? No, this couldn't be a dream. I pushed my Karakorum GT to confirm that I was indeed riding in reality.
The bridge that appeared ahead was the Terada Warehouse Bridge again. I had returned to where I started. What was happening? What on earth was this? What had occurred? I furiously pedaled and crossed the Wakashio Port Bridge, rode through the brick road with the warehouses, and once again reached Yeburi.
I was getting increasingly confused, so I circled the square four, five times, trying to investigate the root cause of this strange phenomenon. The problem indeed lay with the Tennozu Bridge. That was the key point of confusion. I crossed the Tennozu Bridge. However, what appeared ahead was once again the Terada Warehouse Bridge. So, if I crossed the Tennozu Bridge and then made a U-turn, I could cross the Tennozu Bridge again. I constructed a new theory or concept to break through this mysterious phenomenon. Alright, let's give it a try.
I rode through the red brick warehouse district, crossed the Wakashio Port Bridge, crossed the Terada Warehouse Bridge, and crossed the Tennozu Bridge once more. Alright, this is where I should make a U-turn. I turned my Karakorum GT around and crossed the Tennozu Bridge that I had just crossed. Alright, this should work, and I aimed for the coastal road. However, what appeared ahead was the Terada Warehouse Bridge again!
What was the new concept? It was a ridiculous concept. Turning back to cross the Tennozu Bridge I had just crossed. I berated myself for thinking of such a ridiculous idea and then, at that point, made a U-turn to cross the Tennozu Bridge again. However, what appeared ahead was the Terada Warehouse Bridge again.
My head was not just confused but in a state of panic. I felt like a mouse thrown into a maze, desperately running around trying to escape a crisis. But I couldn't escape. I had become trapped in an eternal loop.
Exhausted, hungry, and overwhelmed by the fear creeping in the deep darkness, I started to cry. I was running and crying at the same time. That's when I realized something. I had been running around trying to escape this nightmarish cycle. But maybe what I needed to do now was not to move at all. Moving and running further might make it even more impossible to escape this strange world.
Right, it all started from that Yellow Brick Road. I met that girl, Cathy, and things started getting strange. That was the origin of the bad joke. Yes, I should go back there. I should go back to that bench where I sat with that girl.
I collapsed onto that bench. The restaurant lights that colored the surroundings were already turned off. The streetlights on the pier and the lights along the extending docks were casting reflections on the sea's surface. It must be past midnight by now. New tears began to well up.
But crying wouldn't make things better. I thought that crying would only make me sadder, so I tried to think of something positive. I told myself that tomorrow would come, and with it, a new day and a new wind. Tomorrow, I would understand that this was just a bad dream, just a bad joke. Tomorrow, I would find my way to the coastal road. I'd cross the old coastal road and reach the old Tokaido road, and there, I would find my apartment.
As I opened the door, my father rushed over, shouting, "Where the hell have you been?" My mother said, "I was about to go to the police to ask them to look for you." My little sister, in her sassy tone, added, "You're such an idiot, you know. We have something called a phone." But even she had tears in her eyes. Thinking about all of this, I suddenly felt a weight lifted from my chest and drifted off to sleep without realizing it.
I awoke as the cold crept in. It was getting light, morning had arrived. I had slept through the night. When I got up from the bench, I suddenly witnessed an unbelievable sight, and I couldn't help but shout, "Oh, it's America!"
Just as the girl had said, right before my eyes, beyond the place she had pointed out, there was a cluster of skyscrapers in New York, identical to what I had seen in TV commercials, glistening in the morning light. Had America finally reached Japan? I mumbled to myself, "So, this year is indeed 3752," just as the girl had mentioned.