V1C12

Parsed with an automated reader. The content accuracy is not guranteed.

“Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Ryūsei seems like a last name with quite the family history. Are you, perhaps, from a well off household? And your first name, Ocean, is very peculiar. Is that one of those unconventional baby names that were becoming popular?” Old Man Japan takes his turn to ask, now that our conversation about the guild is mostly finished. It seems he wants to know more about Osshan for some reason.

I’m not really sure about everything he’s talking about. What does it mean to have a family history? And what does unconventional mean, anyways?

I’ve heard the word peculiar before, though. That explains why I thought Osshan was a strange name—it’s not very common; it’s peculiar!

“… actually.”

That’s all I can make out from Osshan’s response, which he makes very, very quietly while looking ashamed.

“Hm? What was that, son? Forgive me, but I am quite old, and it appears I’ve gone a bit deaf. Could I ask you to say that again but in a slightly louder voice?”

“I said that that’s an online handle I use when playing games on the internet, actually! I mean, come on! I got isekaied, so why shouldn’t I have a cool name? If I can’t ever go back to Japan, my real name’s irrelevant!” Osshan yells, sounding almost desperate, before staring down at the ground, his face flushed red.

An online handle? The internet? What are those? This guy’s always throwing out incomprehensible nonsense, but I do understand one thing at least. This punk gave me a false name when he finally introduced himself! Just one more thing to add to the running tally of his sketchy behaviors.

Old Man Japan continues, unbothered. “It looks like I’ve asked something I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I was under the impression that your parents had managed to grow up, name and raise a child, all while still being chūnibyōs. But, no, it’s that you, in the present tense, are currently a chūnibyō. That makes sense, since you should be in your second year of middle school now.”

“Could you not? I’m sick of adults calling me a chūnibyō and laughing at me! Is it wrong to want to believe that you’re special in some way? I mean, come on, Satō Tarō, for real? I could throw a stone and hit five guys with the same name! I hate that damn name. I wanted to have a name that showed that I’m special.”

These two Japan-ese (?) guys start up another conversation that I can’t make heads or tails of. So I butt in and ask them what the heck a chūnibyō is.

Old Man Japan explains that it’s a minor mental illness that boys and girls about Osshan’s age get. I really wish he wouldn’t use complicated words like ‘minor mental illness.’ How am I supposed to know what that means?

My confusion must be obvious, because he explains in more detail.

“It’s a type of grandiose delusion where the sufferer believes their existence is special in some way, combined with an excessive desire to stand out—a disease of the heart where the sufferer acts in ways that outside observers find incomprehensible.

“Generally, they’re only afflicted for a short while, and it doesn’t usually cause any more harm than annoying others and leaving the sufferer with a bit of trauma about their ‘dark past’ after a few years.

“Him coming up with and going by a cool name is just one of the symptoms of his illness. He didn’t do it to fool you, and he didn’t have any ill intentions. I hope you can forgive him….”

He spends a bit more time breaking it down for me. Apparently, some people will want to start going by a different name when they come down with a case of chūnibyō, and they’ll say it’s their ‘true name’ or their ‘spirit name.’ It’s like getting a bad fever and hallucinating—something you shouldn’t hold against them. Just smile, and let them be.

He also mentions that that’s actually one of the symptoms that’s easier to deal with. Some people will do crazy stuff like pin their own left arm down with their other arm and yell, “My left arm aches with the power of darkness!” and stuff like that out of nowhere. I guess they confused their arm falling asleep?

In other words, chūnibyō is a disease whose symptoms depend on the person.

Since it’s the kind of disease that clears up by itself in a few years almost all of the time, most people don’t worry too much about it.

But, man, it really is annoying to have someone like that around.

After having it explained to me, I can accept that Osshan’s sick and that’s that. I’ll forgive him with a smile, even though he lied to me about his name.

But what’s wrong with his real name? Tarō is way easier to say than Osshan. I think I’ll call him Tarō from now on.

*****************

“Alright then, Satō Tarō. You are fourteen years old, which I hope is old enough to tell me about the age you lived in. I’m very curious to find out how Japan has changed in the past fifty years.” Old Man Japan asks the boy formerly known as Osshan now known as Tarō about the present state of their homeland.

It’s been fifty years. Plenty must have changed!

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to give you a good answer. I don’t like read the news or anything. That, uh, Tokyo Beat Cops manga finally wrapped apparently…. I guess that counts as news. I mean, my dad used to read that when he was just a little kid, so it’s pretty impressive it continued for this long!

“Besides that another something-something-46 idol group debuted? I don’t care much for real idol groups, so I don’t know that much about it. I guess it’s impressive how much they’ve milked that brand, though?

“What else? Uh… in the spring they finished running the Shinkansen line to Hakodate….”

Tarō struggles to respond to Old Man Japan’s request. Apparently he “was obsessed with light novels and games” so he doesn’t know that much about the real world.

As he wrenches unrelated tidbits from his memories, Old Man Japan interrupts him. “Now hold on a minute. When exactly are you from?”

“Hm? Right when I’m trying to answer your first question…. Until a little bit ago, it was October of 2016. My birthday’s October first, so I just turned fourteen.”

Old Man Japan slumps back in his chair. “It can’t be. How much do you intend to torment me, cruel world?” he groans, his voice shaking. The pleasant smile he always wears is gone, and tears run down his cheeks.