Frank
Hello, this is Frank speaking.
Here’s Part 3 of the read-for-free series of my parody short novel: “Katta Aita: The Man Who Dared to Conquer the Eiken Grade 1 Exam”.
This is a “parody,” folks. So if you’re the kind of person who takes everything seriously and gets mad like, “What the hell is this?!”, then do yourself a favor—don’t read it.
Otherwise, sit back and enjoy the glorious nonsense of this story.
3
—What? You can’t go to New York because you’re broke!? Wahahaha! Three teeth, Mitsuwa Soap, Hagatha Christie and the “Murder on the Orient Express”! Life isn’t all about money. When you’ve got no cash, you gotta get creative. Take a trip to the “bath.” Not Bath, England—just your local bathhouse. Yeah, a sentō. And no, it’s not Sentosa Island in Singapore.
“Your yakisoba’s getting cold, ya know,” she said.
—If your home bath’s boring, spice things up with a trip to the public bath. You’ll feel like a whole new you!
Katta was confused. Why go to the bathhouse when you’ve got one at home?
—No reason to go? That’s exactly why you should go! It’s called “rebel without a cause.” Now go, and flip the next page!
Katta didn’t flip the page. Instead, he shut the book flat.
The sauce on his “Gesshin Yakisoba” wasn’t even mixed right. Still, like a hyena on a mission, he devoured it in under thirty seconds. Gulped down a glass of water, let out an “Ahh!”, and stood up.
“I’m heading to the bath!”
Naiyo couldn’t believe what she’d heard.
“Why not use the one here at home?” But before she could stop him, Katta was out the door with a towel, washbasin, and fresh underwear.
Their apartment sat atop a rundown construction site—an old two-story wooden complex housing ten families. Katta and Naiyo lived upstairs, forever nervous about the creaky stairs.
Just a few minutes downhill from the main road was the neighborhood bathhouse, “Gokuraku Onsen”—a local gem said to cure rheumatism and stiff shoulders. A hit with the elderly.
Katta nervously slid open the door to the men’s side.
“Welcome!”
A young woman’s voice—a rarity these days.
Too shy to make eye contact, he asked, “How much?”
“250 yen,” she said.
Still avoiding eye contact, Katta handed over the coins with trembling hands and headed to the locker room. As he peeled off his shirt, he froze.
Why should he strip naked in front of a young woman? His belly was starting to pop out lately. This felt more like torture than hygiene—thanks a lot, English book author Jordan Yoshita.
But rules are rules. No nudity, no bath. So he reluctantly removed his pants.
From the women’s side, an older lady chatted with the cashier. “You’re in your third year of English Lit, huh? That’s impressive.”
“Oh, this? I’m reading ‘Jordan Yoshita’s Go-Go English!’”
Jordan Yoshita!? Katta instantly assumed a diver’s crouch, prepping to plunge.
His… uh, situation was dangling right in front of him.
“This book’s hilarious, Obachan!”
Tomoyo quickly explained to the older woman the infamous “Wear pantyhose, wear pantyhose. No mind, no mind” scene.
“Then that makes you one in a million, Tomoyo. Impressive!”
Katta began to wonder if “impressive” had anything to do with what she just saw—but more shocking was the realization that someone so nearby was reading the same book!
Forgetting to cover his manhood, he blurted toward the front desk:
“I have that too!”
Tomoyo turned, gasped, and said:
“Obachan… that looks exactly like my grandpa’s.”
With that soul-crushing moment burned into his heart, Katta spent the weekend mulling it over in their tiny 4.5-mat room, trying to understand what she meant by “exactly like.”
Then the phone rang.
Naiyo answered and immediately covered the receiver with her hand.
“It’s the police. You weren’t caught peeing in public again, were you?”
“Peeing in public,” or tachishon, is exactly what it sounds like.
“Could it be… about the bathhouse?” Katta raised an eyebrow—but only for a moment. His expression softened into puppy-eyed curiosity.
“Oh! I remember. I picked up 1,000 yen on the street a while ago and turned it in at the koban.”
Hope renewed, he answered the phone.
“Hello?… Yes… I see… No, I understand. Today at 2:00, got it. Thank you… Good work!”
“‘Good work’?” Naiyo shot back. “He’s a cop, not your coworker!”
She had a point.
“Hey, everyone’s tired from work, y’know.”
“So… do you get to keep the money?”
“No idea.”
Naiyo sighed and headed out, claiming to have a junior high reunion to attend.
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