Tower of the Sun by Tomihiko Morimi

Author:Tomihiko Morimi
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Yen On

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I grew to love the park and venerate the Tower. Even now as a college student, I’ll at times head to Shijo Kawaramachi and jump aboard the Hankyu Railway for an impromptu ride to Commemorative Park.

My initial courtship of Mizuo included frequent quiet dates in places with an air of history, such as the shrines of Fushimi Inari and Shimogamo. But eventually, I felt compelled to take her to the place I most adore in all the world.

When we boarded the bus that runs to the park from Ibaraki Station, Mizuo sat gazing out the window. When the Tower at long last revealed itself among the sea of green, Mizuo pressed her face against the glass like a frog.

“Wow…,” she exclaimed. “Oh, wow… Just look at it!”

She was captivated. Even after we’d disembarked and had ample opportunity to observe the Tower together, she continued to mill about the base by herself for a great while. I let her be, settling in on a bench across the park, enjoying a peaceful smoke and the sight of her, now a tiny mote bending back with all her might in an attempt to observe the point where the great Tower pierces the sky.

She was paying me little mind, but I was not rankled. I know that the Tower overshadows me—and that I am but naught in its presence.

At long last, Mizuo returned to my side, face flushed.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “Forget wonders of the world. This should be designated a wonder of the universe!”

After that, we sat on the bench in the middle of the grassy meadow, heads tilted back to take in the regal Tower rising up beyond the trees. We’d timed our journey to arrive just as the park gates opened, and there wasn’t another soul in sight.

A chill wind playfully brushed our cheeks. I whistled a quiet, aimless tune and surveyed the circumference of the meadow. It was lined with green forest that rustled with freshness and moisture, as if we sat in the base of a vast, shallow dish filled to its brim with cool liquid.

We’d been absentmindedly staring at the Tower for some time when my cell phone began to ring. It was Shikama. We exchanged a bit of casual conversation.

It did not take long for Shikama’s maddening, knifelike insight to work its magic. I began to sense that he’d picked up not only on the fact that I was presently sitting in Commemorative Park but also that I was there on a date.

“Ah. You’re busy,” he announced. “Sorry to intrude.”

He cut the call without warning. Five minutes later, I received a text message.

All it read was: Traitor. I won’t forget this.

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