[Contest Entry 2011] Silent Night in F-City
0
-_- Please enjoy!
I hear the verse on the radio and immediately think of you.
Hard to believe it’s been a year since Japan. Over a year since you sung yourself to sleep with †˜Silent Night’, only you said “Stille Nacht” instead, while I sketched a 200 metre tall geisha rampaging through the city with lasers blaring from her eyes, because while we were both exhausted you alone could sleep.
Christmas has never been my favourite time of year. Touring Japan, I had hoped I might avoid the holiday cheer. But of course the Japanese love of Christmas triplicates our own, and it was the day after Halloween carols and lights began to appear in shops.
By time I arrived in Il Palazzo’s eccentric, straight-faced Fukuoka, the main streets were ablaze with fairy lights, Colonel Sanders was dressed as Santa, and Christmas carols pumped from speakers in every store. Mostly in English, rendered by Japanese school children. Your version of †˜Silent Night’ was the best I’d heard in some time.
We met in the hostel: you were working there in exchange for free board. I was in town for a week, planning to do an Excel Saga-style tour (ACROSS Building, awww yeah!) as well as the canal town of Yanagawa to the south, which appears in a chapter of the Mushishi manga.
Well, I did that. It was sumo season too, so I planned to go to a tournament. Autumn reached the gingko trees on the west side of the streets. The hostel was doing a steady business. It was such a small hostel, the common rooms so tiny, there was no way to avoid knowing exactly who was around.
On my third day in town, you sauntered into the quiet common room and flopped on the couch. I was beat from a day of touring and content to spend the evening browsing Fakku.
After a few moments’ pregnant silence, you said, “You speak English?”
“Uhn. Yep.” I’d heard more of you than I’d seen in the past few days. You spoke like a Gatling gun pinning down enemy lines.
“My name is-”
“Franz, I know.”
Another awkward silence. I began to feel bad for being rude. “I’m Grace. I overheard you talking in the kitchen.”
I was surprised I hadn’t heard you talking from the peak of Miyajima.
You dealt with this slight embarrassment by making things as awkward as possible. “Ja, to Koichi. My girlfriend left me. Is that hentai?”
“Yep.”
You were immediately next to me on the computer. “Do you know Love Selection?”
“Oh my god, are you a freak? Of course I know it!”
Maybe it was fate which brought us together. If you believe in that sort of thing. All I know is, from that moment on, we were inseparable.
I’d get this feeling, when you were around, that the world was a good place after all. You were just such a joy to be around. We shared our drinks and ran into one another in the sûpa. I said strudel was the only word German needed, and you agreed. You got stood-up by your Japanese masseuse fling, but you said there were another four girls waiting, and you still spent all your time with me.
But this was before the earthquake, before you were caught up in the madness of Fukushima and for days everybody thought you were dead, and I did not yet realise I was in love with you.
I didn’t realise, but nonetheless resigned to staying a few extra days in Fukuoka.
One night we had a party with two girls named Saki and a Russian, Nicholai. We drank all the alcohol, went to Lawsons for fresh supplies, and drank all those too. You’re about the most skinflint person on the planet, conning girls (self included) into paying for you. After eight thousand rounds of Pop-up Pirate (you and I were paired on green swords), Saki, Saki and Nicholai went to bed, and it was just me and you in the common room.
For a while we watched youtube videos. Then you said something about futanari, what it meant, and after a brief argument we looked to Fakku for answers. Needless to say, it was a very graphic education. Thank you Seppuku and the Shikei.
At some point during our slow dawning horror, you placed your hand over mine. We were both pretty drunk. Not drunk enough. I felt your shoulder slip behind mine as you leant against me, and I froze. Your heartbeat drummed against my arm. Close, and warm, your hair irritating my ear.
I was not game to turn to you.
I’d invested a lot of effort in the past several days not making eye contact with you, because you’re very handsome. Now you were on me, and it was getting hard to ignore you.
Automatically my right hand scrolled through the pages. My body was such a mix of turned-on and terrified it’s amazing I could move at all.
The doujin ended. I’d already forgotten it. I had to swallow before I could say, “How about this one?”
Seconds stretched to infinity. “Ja,” you said, softly, and I wondered madly why I wouldn’t turn around, knowing if I did you would kiss me, that it was 2am and we were alone. There was a door. No one else was awake, not even the social-network addicted Chinese girls.
“Ja, I haven’t seen it.”
My heart felt a lot like it had been on a bus for six hours with a hangover. It was now or never.
I clicked the link.
Five minutes later, we went our separate ways.
Is that entirely true? The next day I wanted to go to a sushi train, and asked you to come along. You were unusually reserved on the walk over the canals. Dreamy, even. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong as opposed to just something stupid.
We were sitting at the restaurant bar when †˜Silent Night’ began to play over the radio.
“Ah!” you said, coming alive for the first time that day, “Stille Nacht!”
You sung along, doing a rather better job than the Japanese school kids. When the song ended, the mood between us seemed to have returned to its usual charged self. We raced through Hakata Station and made fun of the bishie boys on the escort club billboards. Afterwards you lullabied yourself to sleep with †˜Stille Nacht’, and I drew Geishazilla.
But as if that click of the mouse was the crotch in the trousers of time, there were no more chances for you and me. None as perfect as that night alone reading hentai.
So forgive me, now that it’s Christmas time, and once again I’m hearing your song on the radio. You’re still in my thoughts, if not my life. These days we’re separated by sixteen thousand kilometres and all the disadvantage great distance can provide. Yet if I do ever have my chance with you again, I promise we’ll do what we should have done on that perfect, silent night in the city of F.
---------------
By Skull&Dog
Suddenly nostalgic...
I hear the verse on the radio and immediately think of you.
Hard to believe it’s been a year since Japan. Over a year since you sung yourself to sleep with †˜Silent Night’, only you said “Stille Nacht” instead, while I sketched a 200 metre tall geisha rampaging through the city with lasers blaring from her eyes, because while we were both exhausted you alone could sleep.
Christmas has never been my favourite time of year. Touring Japan, I had hoped I might avoid the holiday cheer. But of course the Japanese love of Christmas triplicates our own, and it was the day after Halloween carols and lights began to appear in shops.
By time I arrived in Il Palazzo’s eccentric, straight-faced Fukuoka, the main streets were ablaze with fairy lights, Colonel Sanders was dressed as Santa, and Christmas carols pumped from speakers in every store. Mostly in English, rendered by Japanese school children. Your version of †˜Silent Night’ was the best I’d heard in some time.
We met in the hostel: you were working there in exchange for free board. I was in town for a week, planning to do an Excel Saga-style tour (ACROSS Building, awww yeah!) as well as the canal town of Yanagawa to the south, which appears in a chapter of the Mushishi manga.
Well, I did that. It was sumo season too, so I planned to go to a tournament. Autumn reached the gingko trees on the west side of the streets. The hostel was doing a steady business. It was such a small hostel, the common rooms so tiny, there was no way to avoid knowing exactly who was around.
On my third day in town, you sauntered into the quiet common room and flopped on the couch. I was beat from a day of touring and content to spend the evening browsing Fakku.
After a few moments’ pregnant silence, you said, “You speak English?”
“Uhn. Yep.” I’d heard more of you than I’d seen in the past few days. You spoke like a Gatling gun pinning down enemy lines.
“My name is-”
“Franz, I know.”
Another awkward silence. I began to feel bad for being rude. “I’m Grace. I overheard you talking in the kitchen.”
I was surprised I hadn’t heard you talking from the peak of Miyajima.
You dealt with this slight embarrassment by making things as awkward as possible. “Ja, to Koichi. My girlfriend left me. Is that hentai?”
“Yep.”
You were immediately next to me on the computer. “Do you know Love Selection?”
“Oh my god, are you a freak? Of course I know it!”
Maybe it was fate which brought us together. If you believe in that sort of thing. All I know is, from that moment on, we were inseparable.
I’d get this feeling, when you were around, that the world was a good place after all. You were just such a joy to be around. We shared our drinks and ran into one another in the sûpa. I said strudel was the only word German needed, and you agreed. You got stood-up by your Japanese masseuse fling, but you said there were another four girls waiting, and you still spent all your time with me.
But this was before the earthquake, before you were caught up in the madness of Fukushima and for days everybody thought you were dead, and I did not yet realise I was in love with you.
I didn’t realise, but nonetheless resigned to staying a few extra days in Fukuoka.
One night we had a party with two girls named Saki and a Russian, Nicholai. We drank all the alcohol, went to Lawsons for fresh supplies, and drank all those too. You’re about the most skinflint person on the planet, conning girls (self included) into paying for you. After eight thousand rounds of Pop-up Pirate (you and I were paired on green swords), Saki, Saki and Nicholai went to bed, and it was just me and you in the common room.
For a while we watched youtube videos. Then you said something about futanari, what it meant, and after a brief argument we looked to Fakku for answers. Needless to say, it was a very graphic education. Thank you Seppuku and the Shikei.
At some point during our slow dawning horror, you placed your hand over mine. We were both pretty drunk. Not drunk enough. I felt your shoulder slip behind mine as you leant against me, and I froze. Your heartbeat drummed against my arm. Close, and warm, your hair irritating my ear.
I was not game to turn to you.
I’d invested a lot of effort in the past several days not making eye contact with you, because you’re very handsome. Now you were on me, and it was getting hard to ignore you.
Automatically my right hand scrolled through the pages. My body was such a mix of turned-on and terrified it’s amazing I could move at all.
The doujin ended. I’d already forgotten it. I had to swallow before I could say, “How about this one?”
Seconds stretched to infinity. “Ja,” you said, softly, and I wondered madly why I wouldn’t turn around, knowing if I did you would kiss me, that it was 2am and we were alone. There was a door. No one else was awake, not even the social-network addicted Chinese girls.
“Ja, I haven’t seen it.”
My heart felt a lot like it had been on a bus for six hours with a hangover. It was now or never.
I clicked the link.
Five minutes later, we went our separate ways.
Is that entirely true? The next day I wanted to go to a sushi train, and asked you to come along. You were unusually reserved on the walk over the canals. Dreamy, even. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong as opposed to just something stupid.
We were sitting at the restaurant bar when †˜Silent Night’ began to play over the radio.
“Ah!” you said, coming alive for the first time that day, “Stille Nacht!”
You sung along, doing a rather better job than the Japanese school kids. When the song ended, the mood between us seemed to have returned to its usual charged self. We raced through Hakata Station and made fun of the bishie boys on the escort club billboards. Afterwards you lullabied yourself to sleep with †˜Stille Nacht’, and I drew Geishazilla.
But as if that click of the mouse was the crotch in the trousers of time, there were no more chances for you and me. None as perfect as that night alone reading hentai.
So forgive me, now that it’s Christmas time, and once again I’m hearing your song on the radio. You’re still in my thoughts, if not my life. These days we’re separated by sixteen thousand kilometres and all the disadvantage great distance can provide. Yet if I do ever have my chance with you again, I promise we’ll do what we should have done on that perfect, silent night in the city of F.
---------------
By Skull&Dog
Suddenly nostalgic...
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
I have been keeping track of which submissions have been posted in the section but have not been posted in the submissions thread with a link to their respective piece. I can only assume that you are unfinished until you post the URL in the contest thread. If you are finished, then you have the next 24 hours to post in the contest thread linking to this piece or I'm afraid it will be overlooked. Thank you.