pixiv "Autumn Days" All 8 Parts / Part 2 "Cetus" https://www.pixiv.net/novel/show.php?id=9660210 2. Cetus Shisho invited me to go see a play. The archer had visited my room, and I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell Shisho that we’d spent the night together. I had been agonizing over it, so honestly, I felt awkward, but I decided to go along anyway. Following behind Shisho as he walked while looking at a pamphlet in his hand, I let out a sigh. I still hadn't sorted out my feelings about the fact that, in a sense, I was betraying Shisho. Shisho completely regarded the archer as an "enemy." Whether that was simply because he was a criminal, or because he was far too dangerous a person to be left to roam free, I wasn't entirely sure. But either way, our stances differed. I recognized him as an ally who shared a common enemy. At least, I had the notion that he could become an ally. That might have been a terribly optimistic thought, though. "Enemy." When I replayed that word in my head, a face surfaced. The face of my former, amiable neighbor. Gradually, those featureless traits blurred even further in my memory. It was a strange sensation. "Oh, here it is." Shisho stopped walking. It was a building located a little off the main commercial district. Young people wearing warm-looking coats were loitering around in front of the entrance. "Cetus Theater Company Performance." A sign like that was posted outside. The walls of the building were plastered with flyers from various theater troupes. Cetus Theater Company. I had heard of it. I remembered seeing a photo in a newspaper ad or somewhere of actors performing while wearing white masks. And those masks strongly resembled the ones worn by the figure who had appeared before Shisho and me during the incidents involving the dwarfs and giants that summer—the one who had vanished, leaving behind only a creepy impression. I had already imagined what was hidden beneath those smooth, featureless masks: a smooth, egg-like face. "Tickets at the door are 3,000 yen. Surprisingly expensive. You got cash?" Shisho's voice, reading out the price, brought me back to my senses. "Eh? Didn't you say you had tickets? Is this on you?" "Did I say something like that?" Saying this, Shisho paid the fee at the reception desk just inside the entrance. I'd been tricked. I hurriedly pulled out my wallet and counted my meager thousand-yen bills. "Who are you here under?" When I asked for a same-day ticket, the person at the reception desk asked me that. They were wearing a yellow staff jacket. Must have been a member of the theater troupe. I learned later that with small theater troupes like this, the actors usually have to buy their own tickets in advance and then desperately try to sell them to acquaintances. For tickets bought at the door, specifying whose introduction brought you apparently affected whether they met their ticket sales quotas. Not really understanding at the time, I shook my head, and was told, "Ah, that's fine, go on through," and was guided toward the seating area. It was a small box of a place, maybe about 50 seats. The entrance area had a vibe similar to a small local movie theater, but the seating capacity was far smaller. At 3,000 yen per person multiplied by 50 people, that came out to 150,000 yen in sales per performance. It didn't look like it was going to be a full house, and many people probably had cheaper advance tickets, so the revenue would likely be even lower. I didn't know how much the theater rental cost, but if you subtracted that and divided the remaining profit among the number of troupe members, it seemed like it would break down to a pretty meager hourly wage. No, come to think of there was merchandise for sale by the entrance. Anyway, well, with things like this, maybe it's just an extension of a hobby and shouldn't be considered a way to make money. The lights went down, and the performance began. It started with a scene of a girl sleeping in a bed in her room. The clock, paintings, and furniture like the bookshelf attached to the wall in the background were all strangely warped. A woman who seemed to be her mother came in and knocked on the door. The girl woke up and struggled desperately to somehow fix the warped furniture. The mother yelled at her to hurry up and get ready for school. The girl tried to make excuses through the door. The play was titled "Metamorphosis." There were scenes throughout that brought to mind Franz Kafka's novella "Metamorphosis," and it seemed to be a modern adaptation of that masterpiece. Whereas Kafka's "Metamorphosis" depicted the anguish of a young man who wakes up one day to find he has turned into a giant venomous insect, in this small theater troupe's version, the girl underwent no outward physical change. However, she had clearly become a different entity. Through the strange powers she had acquired, comedies and tragedies unfolded as the people around her were pushed around, but all the characters performed while wearing white masks. Honestly, I had expected a much more avant-garde, artistic, and incomprehensible play, but the content itself was surprisingly easy to follow and interesting. It felt almost like there was no need to wear those bizarre masks. During the play, Shisho in the seat next to me kept staring straight ahead. The tense atmosphere radiating from him forced even me into an odd state of tension. Just what was bugging him so much? The play ended with a scene where the girl, locked in her room by her mother, gradually grew weaker and finally died. What the hell was that? When the thought that it was a hopeless, bleak story left me feeling unpleasant, all the lights went out, and the stage plunged into pitch darkness. Within that darkness, faintly glowing, sparkling things like the veins of a plant emerged. No, were those scales? The fine scales of a reptile or a fish. The audience held their breath and watched as that pale light danced through the air, escaped the room, and vanished into the wings of the stage. It was a beautiful scene. Was it meant to imply that only in death had the girl broken through the shell of her flesh and finally become what she was meant to metamorphose into? That was the kind of story it seemed like to me. The performance ended, and the troupe members who had been acting lined up on the stage to bow. They had taken off their masks. I had somehow gotten the impression that they were people with circumstances who couldn't reveal their faces or names, so I was let down. Beneath the masks, they were just ordinary people. Amidst the applause, Shisho sat with his arms crossed and a frown on his forehead. "It's over," I called out to him as the audience began to head for the exits. Shisho finally hauled himself up. "What's wrong with you?" "Shut up." Without even trying to hide his bad mood, he walked away, his footsteps stamping roughly and noisily. What was wrong with him? Even with the masks, the play itself didn't seem like anything to get that upset about. While it had a bitter aftertaste, wouldn't you say it was actually pretty good? For someone like me who had only ever seen school play performances up close, the precision and realism of the actors' acting had left a deep impression. "Thank you very much." At the exit, the troupe members were seeing the audience off. The girl who had just died earlier and the mother who had abandoned her stood side by side, bowing with smiles on their faces. Shisho spoke to the oldest-looking man among the troupe members. "Um, why were you all wearing masks?" "Ah, is this your first time? Well, based on the theatrical theories of an up-and-coming playwright named Ernie Wraith, we deliberately uniformize faces and expressions—the ultimate weapon that makes humans human—in order to expand the audience's perspective to the actor's entire body, and bring the entire stage into their field of vision..." "Ah, never mind then." Having asked the question himself, Shisho abruptly cut the man off. "Who wrote today's story?" Looking slightly miffed, the man replied. "The script was written by our leader, Tatsuki. It's an original." "Ah, it was in the pamphlet. Tatsuki Ren, right? Where is he?" Shisho made a show of looking around his surroundings. "He didn't come today." "Eh, the leader? But the leader is the head of the theater troupe, right? He's not here?" "Well, practically speaking, our troupe is run by Yoshizaki, the sub-leader who does the directing." The man let out an annoyed sigh. "What kind of person is the leader?" "He's an eccentric. Because normally—oh, Masayan, thanks for always coming! And Tanaka-chan too." Mid-sentence, the man dove into a crowd of audience members who seemed to be acquaintances. "He wears a mask even in everyday life, doesn't he?" Shisho called out to the man's back. It was a tone of voice that suggested he knew the answer, even though it hadn't been heard. Most of the audience seemed to be acquaintances of the troupe members, so circles of conversation had formed here and there, and people weren't thinning out easily near the entrance and exit. Shisho spoke again to a woman who was wrapping up the merchandise corner where original printed t-shirts were displayed. "Is there someone named Soga in this troupe? Soga Takehiro." "Soga-kun? There was a guy like that. There was, but he quit right away." "Quit? Why?" "Who knows? Probably got sick of it and did a runner. We get a lot of people like that." "Is that how it is?" I was surprised that Soga Takehiro's name had come out of Shisho's mouth. He was a man who had been involved in the incident concerning hair that happened in the summer. I had heard he joined a theater troupe, but was it this one? "Where did he go? Oh, I have no idea. He just sort of drifted in and quit right away. I don't think anyone here knows." "I see. Also, where can I go to meet the leader?" "The leader? Well, that's the thing, I don't really know either. He doesn't even come to rehearsals. Well, even though he's called the leader, in our case he's kind of like an owner. He puts up the script and the money, and doesn't meddle. Haha." If I really had to know, the sub-leader Yoshizaki would know, she told me. That Yoshizaki had apparently already left the premises because he had some meeting to attend. "Shall we head back?" In front of the theater where the crowd was finally thinning out, I called out to Shisho. Shisho still wore an expression of displeasure. "Ah, here's a preview for the next one. Please come again." A staff member handed out a flyer. It seemed to be an announcement for the next performance. The title and cast were made public, but the timing of the performance remained undecided. "None Shall Sleep" I read the title aloud. It was a phrase that sounded like I'd heard it somewhere before. "Turandot," Shisho muttered, having received the same flyer. "A masterpiece of opera." "Ah, the opera." I had heard some uncle with one of the world's three great tenors singing it. "Is the next one an opera? I wonder if they have people who are good at singing." "Who knows." Leaving the theater behind, we began to walk down the bleak night road. As we walked, Shisho muttered the half-remembered lyrics of "None Shall Sleep" under his breath: "No oneee... shall sleeeep..." Kicking a pebble along as it rolled, I listened to him from the side. He fumbled and mumbled through parts of it, which was rather cute. After changing his tone to sing what seemed to be a female chorus part, Shisho stopped and turned toward me. "Do you know what they're singing right now?" "Uh, not really." "No one knows his name. We will surely be killed." That's what it sings. With that, Shisho started walking again. I felt a chill run through me, and my feet wouldn't move for a moment. His name. No one knows his name. We will be killed. Standing still in front of a convenience store, my shadow stretched out long before me. The pebble I had been kicking had vanished somewhere without me noticing. "Take a look over there." Shisho said, pointing up at the sky. "The stars?" "Hmm, is it too dark to see?" The street was overflowing with store lights, and the night sky was hazed in white. "This way, this way." Shisho invited me to a nearby park. It was a park equipped with a playground structure modeled after a small hill and some swings. Tall trees lined the perimeter of the grounds, creating a quiet space cut off from the city's hustle and bustle. And it was sufficiently dark. The sound of my own breathing grew loud. We climbed up on top of the hill structure. There were footholds for climbing here and there, so we were able to get up easily. "Do you know Pegasus? Look, that rectangle." "Which one?" "They call it the Great Square of Pegasus, it's a famous autumn constellation." Following the movement of Shisho's finger, I managed to spot it. "Ah, that one?" "And then, if you go straight down from the bottom-left point of the rectangle, there's a bright star, right?" "Hmm? Is that it?" "That's Beta Ceti, Deneb Kaitos. The brightest star in Cetus. That's the whale's tail. And the body continues off to the left." "Oh, I see." I strained my eyes, chasing the giant body of the whale across the night sky. "I kind of get it. Or maybe not. But speaking of Cetus, that's the name of today's theater troupe, right?" "Right." Shisho sat down, still looking up at the sky. I sat down next to him. The coldness of the stone playground structure seeped through my pants into my backside. "That Tau star around the belly of Cetus is a solar system similar to ours, and what's more, it's really close to Earth, so it often appears in sci-fi as a human colony. A future migration destination for humanity." "You know a lot about this." "I looked it up." Shisho's hobbies changed rapidly with time. And he got bored of them just as quickly. I had been dragged along through countless fleeting hobbies of his, from lip-reading to throat-singing. "I am the heart." Abruptly, Shisho spoke those words. That phrase startled me. "The heart that changes its brilliance." With those words, Shisho grabbed his jacket with both hands, making a gesture as if to expose his chest. "That's..." I remembered. The neighbor's words. That egg-like face. "Those words stuck with me. I felt like I'd heard them somewhere before. So I looked it up. And sure enough, there it was. That star." Shisho pointed up at the sky. I strained my eyes among the countless stars. "Though, you can't see it right now." "You can't see it?!" Unfazed by my retort, Shisho traced the outline of Cetus with his finger. "The star located at the position of the whale's heart is Mira, a rare long-period pulsating variable star. It has the property of changing its apparent brightness over time. Normally it's a dim star and you can't see it with the naked eye, but during what's called maximum phase—the brightest time—it comes to rival Beta Ceti, Deneb Kaitos, in brilliance. People in the old days called this star with its strange properties in Cetus 'Mira Ceti,' the 'wonderful star of Cetus.'" "The wonderful star of Cetus." I unconsciously repeated the words. "Ceti is Latin for Cetus. Mira means wonderful. That giant whale in the sky has a heart that changes its brilliance." "I am the heart that changes its brilliance." The Egg Man had said that. Could this have been referring to Cetus, and to Mira, the star of its heart? "When he said he was the heart that changes its brilliance, it almost felt like he was saying he was just a part of Cetus, not Cetus itself." "But the heart is the core, the central hub. You could also interpret it as that kind of assertion." Silence descended. A cold wind blew, shaking the black branches and leaves of the trees surrounding the park. That rustling sound enveloped the surroundings. I felt a sense of helplessness. All glowing things were in the sky. Sitting at the bottom of the dark night on the cold ground, we held our breath. "That theater troupe," Shisho broke the silence. "The name Cetus... the leader probably came up with it." "___Well, they said he was the owner, so I suppose so." Do you think the name Cetus is a coincidence? That kind of unspoken question was definitely there. I remained silent. Then Shisho changed the subject. "What did you think of today's play?" "What did I think... well, I guess it was pretty good. Even though it had a bitter aftertaste. Still, the staging at the end was beautiful, and it felt kind of redeemed." "It said on the flyer, you know, today's performance of 'Metamorphosis' was the second time." "Is that so?" I felt the atmosphere surrounding Shisho change. It was the same as when he had glared at the stage with anger during the performance. "Following last autumn, it's the second time." Not understanding what that meant, I didn't know where the root of Shisho's anger lay. But that anger seemed like a pillar of steam blasting upward toward the sky. Without a word, Shisho slid down the hill structure. I hurriedly slid down on my backside, too. After starting to walk, Shisho looked back at me a moment later. Then, adjusting his black hat which had slipped from the impact of landing, he said: "Before long, a night where no one shall sleep might come."
To be continued in Autumn Days Part 3: "The Ditch of Mad Hearts"
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