Disco Wednesdayyy 03

Part 1: Kozue

5



I put Kozue to sleep and spent the night on her room’s sofa again. The big Kozue didn’t appear, but she did in my dreams and I started having sex with her. “I have Norma Braun,” I told Kozue. She said that she knew. “I’m better,” she laughed. We kissed. She might be right, I thought. In the first place, I hadn’t even kissed Norma. They couldn’t be compared. “I’m willing to bet my boobs are softer than hers. Mine might be a little smaller, but their shape is great,” she said as she showed off her white chest; I put her pale nipples in my mouth. Kozue raised her voice, then laughed a little. Kozue was under me. She was twisting strongly and greatly between my arms. It was my first time doing it with a kid, but there wasn’t any real problem, huh, I thought. Kozue extended her hands towards my abdomen, started rubbing my hard cock with the palm of her hand, massaged my balls, then went back up and grabbed it from the base. She seemed used to it, so I asked her if she had any experience. “Of course, I’m a high-schooler, you know. Everyone has sex in American high schools too, no?” she said as she stroked my dick, enlaced her thighs around my legs, and pushed her hips against me. I lowered her shorts and removed my underwear. Kozue grabbed my dick again, so I warned her, “I’m putting it in, okay?” “Is it fine?” she asked. I recalled the small Kozue, wondered whether I should feel uncomfortable because of that, and pondered over why I didn’t feel that way, but Kozue said, “No no, I’m asking if it’s fine regarding Norma-san.” I told her Norma had nothing to do with it. “I mean, I said you could look forward to her,” she said. But Norma got married, I thought, and went to continue. “If you don’t care then it’s fine,” Kozue said. “But if you love me, then do so perfectly. Don’t leave me alone, love only me for the rest of your life, forget about Norma-san, collect stickers for my enormous cards, gather all the backs I want to ride and make them bend, lick my butthole, call me pretty all the time.” I penetrated her wet spot after saying “Okay, of course” to all of it, it felt so good my hair stood on my back and my spine got pulled downward. “It hurts!” she screamed. Aah, I see, I remembered this was merely the small Kozue that had become big, so her hymen and everything was intact. “It hurts, but don’t stop!” she said as she held onto my shoulders. “It hurts, but I’m fine! Do it more! Harder!” she said before biting my shoulders. I told her “I love you, baby.” Those weren’t mere words, I truly was about to burst from my love for Kozue.

Do dreams count as experience?

When I dreamt about having sex with Kozue, did that count as having had sex with her for me? If that sex only existed within me and hadn’t been recorded nor recognized by anyone, did that mean it was like it hadn’t happened? For example, let’s take a girl in a profound state of trance...or a girl in a vegetative state connected to machines at the hospital. If I raped that girl, what difference would there between that sex and the one inside my dreams? I bet that, in terms of how good it felt and how close it was to real sex, the lovemaking in the dream would rank better. Same for the level of accomplishment. Sex with an unmoving, sleeping girl would make you conscious of the fact that you’re the only one having fun, and it would end with you realizing that sex really is a thing that should be done between two people. The partner in your dream is bolder and, how to put it, more daring. When I massaged Kozue’s chest, it wasn’t small at all, it was bountiful, like Tracey Wickedheart’s 120cm plastic boobs, but there was no trace of silicon, it had a natural bounciness.

This was the curse of words, I thought. I dreamed of this all because the big Kozue’d said so we’re gonna have a tragic love. Kozue’d only said so we’re gonna have a tragic love because of those letters ‘between Kozue and I’ whose origins were unknown. Words are divine, they can create something where there is nothing. Without words, there wouldn’t have been any sexual atmosphere between Kozue and I. I woke up, got off the sofa, and approached the bed on which the six-year-old Kozue was sleeping. I considered masturbating while looking at her, but didn’t.

Of course, my pants weren’t down and my hands weren’t anywhere close to my dick, but now I found myself pondering about the difference between having sex inside my dreams and imagining it. I came to the conclusion that it came down to how much realism my imagination could muster.

...What the hell was I thinking?

I was pent up. There was a wet and sticky double-headed lion being condensed right before my butthole and trapped in a dark hole, and that guy became hot inside my tight membrane and teased my whole body. It let out flames as thick as blood through its nose and said fwuuh fwhuuh. Well then, I gotta find a sex partner.

An American guy past his thirties still cherishing a weird love he had in high school—well, being engrossed with it to a certain degree—is already unhealthy, but to top it off, I was living with a six-year-old girl in a small house, and that girl would sometime turn into her seventeen-year-old self through spacetime travel for an unclear reason through unclear means, only to awkwardly spread her pheromones; so yeah, it was pretty bad. I had to shoot an ultra super screwdriver nut in the lapis lazuli-like pussy of some guy’s gorgeous sister like a typical American nationalist male would scream “Fuck, who’s daddy!?” when he unleashes a lightning-speed tackle in American football.

That’s why I called Muroi Shakuko while preparing breakfast. “Fuyuno speaking,” but a guy with a hoarse voice answered instead, so I named myself and got him to give the phone to Shakuko. “Hey Disco, don’t give out your name so casually,” Shakuko was angry with me once again. “Sorry, but I’m not playing around at night anymore. I’m married now.” “My bad, my bad. You see, I’m in a phase where sex is extremely important.” “Eh!? Seriously? Wait, where even are you?” “Tokyo.” “Don’t go to Kabukicho.” “I don’t like pros.” “Right, and you’re not a fan of masturbation either. But I moved to Shizuoka after getting married, okay? I was in Nagoya before then, though.” “Where even are those places?” I was only somewhat knowledgeable about the Kanto region. “Well, fine. I’ll take the bullet train once my husband goes out to work.” “So when will you be lying in my bed exactly?” “I’ll be there in three hours for sure, baby. Aw shit. That lit a fire to my lower half. I’ve got a wet pussy headed for you in a green car.[1]”

(NT: The name for first-class wagons in Japan.)

“Let’s meet halfway. I’m at my limit.” “Ahaha. So horny that you can’t wait? Okay. Then around Atami. Reserve a random hotel there. Do you have a mobile phone?” “I do. Atami, got it.” We exchanged our phone numbers then hung up. After that, I got in the bath, thought of Shakuko’s wet pussy, and, as I was daydreaming about delicious memories under the shower’s warmth, my right hand naturally drifted down; I stroked myself and climaxed. The highlight of my day. I was like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty. Sexual fantasies about young girls. A routine of ennui. A distant adventure.

That said, I thought to myself. I’d had sex with Shakuko dozens, even hundred of times during our honeymoon period at San Fransisco, but what was the difference for me between those vivid memories, the pleasure I had alone just now, and real sex?

Well, this wasn’t the time to be thinking about stupid stuff again. I was so pent up I could only think through my dick. My mind was fuzzy after cumming, so it might not be all that different from my dick, but regardless of all that, there was no way I could leave Kozue alone in this house. Usually I would entrust her to grannie Nakamura, but there was no telling when the future Kozue would come to the tiny one. I didn't think that was explainable to other people, and more importantly, I wanted to collect some more information from the future Kozue. Also, if Kozue came from the future when I wasn’t home, she would be surprised and lonely. I called Shakuko again from inside the bath. “Hey, it’s still early,“ she complained. “Ah, sorry. Um, can’t you in fact come to Tokyo instead? I can’t really get away right now.” “Huh? Geez. Got it. See you then. I’ll call you when I arrive.” “I’m really sorry.” “No problem. Till then.” I’d calmed down through masturbation so I didn’t really need Shakuko to come anymore, but I guess I still wanted to have sex, huh. Did I need to fap more? I ended the call, stopped the shower, put on a bathrobe, left the bath, climbed the stairs, entered Kozue’s bedroom, and found out the big Kozue was already there, writing the letters in the sketchbook with all her might on top of the bed.

“Kozue.” “Hold on a minute. I’m writing what I’ve memorized.” “Okay.” I stood by the door and carefully looked at the body line of Kozue, who still wore her negligee like a T-shirt with her kiddy panties completely showing...shit, I shouldn’t. It wasn’t the moment to be having my eyes glued onto her fresh, long, and thin white legs slightly twisted on the bed or her soft and round ass like a pudding that has been dropped on a plate. I went to my room, took a sweatshirt and sweatpants, recalled of the adult panties I’d bought two days ago for Kozue which ended up being thrown into the closet after a refusal from the small one, and threw them near the big one who was still moving her pencil at a fierce pace with her butt on full display. “Wear that from now on. I’ll leave them near this bed,” I told her. “Yaahn!” she moaned and glanced at me with a laugh. Her eyes then turned to the tracksuit and underwear that fell near her; she exclaimed “My first ever underwear bought by a man,” then went back to reproducing the letters. I got back to my room, dried my hair, changed clothes, and went to peep into Kozue’s room once more. She, too, had changed into her new outfit with the sleeves and hems pulled back, and was now seated. She grabbed the sketchbook from her knees and extended it towards me, saying “I’m done writing. Your part hasn’t been written yet, Disco-san, so I left some space open for that. I already have them memorized, so please write them now. It’d be a drag if I forgot.” I received it along with a blue ballpoint pen, sat next to Kozue, and wrote what she recited. “What happens if I shift my writing?” “You’re not able to, Disco-san. It’s really amazing.” I incorporated the drawings too. I wrote them half-randomly after receiving an explanation, and since apparently there was nothing wrong or out-of-place, Kozue said, “Woah, scary!”





To the future Kozue. I’m writing on the fourteenth of July at 07:15 in the morning. You came and departed earlier today. First, looking at you, I thought of something I had to check. It’s in my nature to not be satisfied until I can see things with my very eyes. Being a detective.

So, I’m not a scholar in physics or anything and have never held an interest in stuff like that in the past, so I don’t know anything about time. What I’m about to speculate here is purely the thinking of an amateur. But still, you know, I can only understand what I think with my own head, so I’ll still try thinking a little. If in the science of the era you live in, eleven years in the future, there has been a new discovery about time, please tell me during your next visit.

Now, what is the flow of time exactly?

What comes to my mind first is something diverging in the shape of a broom. What has happened in the past and what is happening at this very moment are singular, but there are many possibilities for how the events about to happen can take shape...

Possibilities? I represented the possibilities by dotted lines to differentiate them from reality, but isn’t the future real? At the present point, the future has yet to happen, but obviously it already happened in the future. For instance, the seventeen-year-old you happened. Then you turned seventeen. Fulfilling the prophecy. So when representing concretely the flow of time, the future is as much of a reality as the present and the past. There are firm truths in the future. Then the drawing needs to be corrected thusly.

Wait, I should think in the same way regarding facts and possibilities for the past and the present. States that might have happened in the past. A virtual present that could have happened then. Then, further future possibilities spreading from that.

Are ramifications the only thing that can happen? Does time only diverge and events never converge?

Since there are infinite possibilities, even syzygies or things extremely unlikely to happen will happen. A reality isn’t about what has happened, it’s a momentaneous representation of what is happening. Maybe various mes, who all have different pasts and act on different reasons, at this very moment in time, are all writing the exact same letters as me without a molecule left out of place. Right. The possibilities don’t only spread time, they also make it come together. Then it’s not that the virtual pasts, presents, and future are getting further and further away from reality by branching off; they endlessly intersect each other.

Looking at my drawing, where infinite virtual futures and presents and pasts are connected through possibilities, I find myself dubious. Is there really only one reality? I’ve merely heard the words ‘multiverse theory’ and ‘possible worlds’ randomly before, but if there are an infinite number of universes and an infinite number of spacetimes, then didn’t all the possibilities that branch off from reality, those pasts and presents and future that I drew differently, happen in some other spacetime, in some other universe, and exist with the same level of realism as our reality? Is that way of thinking too SF-like? And aren’t all of those connected in some complex ways by what astrophysics calls wormholes?

If they are, then all of those possibilities aren’t virtual but undeniably realities, and they exist in substantial ways somewhere.

So thinking about possibilities essentially means reaching what is a reality in another universe inside your head. All the possibilities we can imagine, and even the ones we can’t, exist. And you can reach them by passing through a wormhole.

Of course, in order to go through a wormhole, exceedingly strict conditions must be met, and that road is so minute it’s basically impossible to take.

But these paths scientifically...or rather, theoretically, exist.

These drawings need a last correction.

Wormholes don’t simply connect spacetimes, they also connect multiple spots in the same spacetime. I think... This is completely smattering knowledge and I’m really not confident in my memory of it, but I think spacetime is something that’s spirally. Because of the influence of gravity or something...disorderly? Like at random? Or maybe they’re taking a beautiful shape? I don’t know. For now I’ll use a fundamental form for humans, spirals, to represent it. Is the spinny thing for our DNA a metaphor for what happens in our body?

Yeah. I’m fairly confident now. Here is basically what I wanted to confirm—what I found suspicious:

You, who come into the small Kozue’s body, who call yourself the ‘seventeen-year-old Kozue,’ did you really come from our universe and our time’s future?





Put it like that and it sounds kinda stupid, but I want to be sure that you’re not an extraterrestrial lifeform that passed through a wormhole and came from another universe. That you are in the same complexly interweaving flow of time as us. In short, that you are really the same individual as the small Kozue I know.







But how can we confirm something like that?

I tried thinking of various ways to go about it, but looking at the theoretical universe map I drew, I just can’t quite come to terms with it. But that’s probably because I’m deceiving myself. Wormholes shouldn’t appear geometrically like I drew it, but only rarely under very specific circumstances. Even if they are an infinity of universes, resulting in an equal scale of wormholes, the probability for a wormhole to be connecting the present Kozue and you from eleven years later multiple times is inordinately low. That’s why I’m betting on that multiplication. On the fact that, when multiplying the frequency at which you pass through wormholes and the number of wormholes present overall, the answer is 1.

I engraved ‘DISCO’ on the ginkgo’s trunk this morning and buried a knife and a fork under it. Please check it, and next time you come, tell me the motif on that knife and fork. My house is situated in room 303 of Villa Hapira Kojimacho, 4-41-5, Chofu, Tokyo. There are currently six ginkgo trees growing in the rear garden, the one in question here is the third one from the east, the one directly facing my room.

Also, to prove that you really come from the future, please tell me something that will happen to me in the future. Anything concerning me is fine, even something unrelated. Like the winning horse at a race?

That said, looking at the last drawing I drafted, I have a thought: If we are in the same spacetime and you are really the Kozue eleven years from now, both the current Kozue and you exist to the same degree of reality. You are not an existence that has yet to happen, you already are there. The past Kozue doesn’t exactly disappear after having existed either, I’m sure she exists inside her time in the past. In other words, the concept of existing is unrelated to time. Existing is like a picture etched in a film...or maybe an infinity of films, being lit up at the moment called ‘now.’ That’s why Kozue and you from eleven years in the future exist separately, and me and me from the next instant exist separately all the same. Each of us are in a frame cut out of a film. But I don’t feel like myself from the previous instant and myself from the next instant are any different from me, unlike how you feel about the small Kozue.

What is ‘being’ for human beings?

Is existing synonymous with living? If that’s the case then both me and past me exist and live parallelly.





What came after had already been written by Kozue.





So long! Your letter is too long. And your drawings were so confusing! Just reading it tired me. It’s a real toil to read such a complex letter that goes on and on when I don’t even know the duration of my stay~. I skimmed through the middle part. We must keep our letters brief, okay? I went to Chofu and checked! The knife and fork were properly under the tree with DISCO written on it. Drdrdrdrdrdrdrdr dan! ← drum roll. It’s a flower pattern, right? I was really moved by seeing them. Let’s do this more often. Give me lots of presents. I want you to bury various objects at various spots and sometimes tell me where they are so I can unearth them myself! Receiving something from someone after a looooong time passes feels strange. It’s funny but scary, it makes me realize how massive time is. Let’s do it more often, okay? Ah, no, I could just bury them myself when I come and unearth them later on here. Wait, then I’m no longer receiving presents, so it’s no fun. In the end, I want you to do it, please, Disco-san. ← shameless. It’s a yes, right?

Mmthen, for that past thing, yeaaah, you see, it’s too dangerous, so I’m being careful not to touch on it. In short, the newspapers scare me. If I even glance at one, a case will catch my eyes, and if someone were to have died in it, that’s a big problem for me. That is, should I save them or not when coming here? Is it okay to save them? Can I even save them? I think that was written somewhere in your letter, and we’re on the same wavelength; as long as we don’t know how the flow of time works, I’m too scared to go out of your house, Disco-san. Should we experiment with something? But I’m scared of the future changing and disappearing. I’ve been scared so many times already. I’ve been imagining scenarios like: If I screw up and change the future, myself existing in the future from before that change occurred will disappear, meaning that in the end the me who should’ve come from the future won’t, in fact, change the future, creating a paradox, turning my existence into a bomb that will shatter this world in a big explosion. You heard it right. I’m a dangerous girl. I might have the power to turn this world into dust. However, I might inversely have the power to save this world.

Having no idea what to do about this all-or-nothing, I’m so scared I shut myself in this room and can’t muster the will to go search for you.

Therefore, I apologize. I’m being careful not to investigate the past. Thinking I could know about the death of many people, maybe dozens of them, perhaps even tens of thousands of them just by looking at the newspaper of the last eleven years at the library makes me panic; so I can’t think about the library. No shit, I really try not to even think about the library. Same for the internet. That’s why I’m trying to focus on thinking about why I became a time machine. I tell you, there’s nothing good about being a time machine. I can talk because I’ve experienced sad things, and in my opinion there’s no more perfect answer than to not want time machines to be a reality. Creating them is no good. Noooo good. People shouldn’t talk about stuff like the future or the past, everyone is better off living normally in their present, seriously.

But you know, I’m wondering ‘maybe that’s not really me,’ but I have almost no memory of when I was six, you see. I’ve got plenty of other disparate images, but nothing comes to mind regarding this Villa Hapira Kojimacho.

I’m amazed at how new everything seems.

About the thing I mentioned last time we met, I wonder what’s going to happen to me, don’t you too? How did I enter Suitengu’s Saint Richard Kindergarten, I wonder. That happened when I was six, so maybe there are a few things you can check about it, but maybe we had already parted by that time. Did something happen to me during the summer when I was six? I wish I could remember, but noooothing comes up. Sorry.

Ah, right, if we’re talking about events that happened that summer, I guess this happened. This happened, and a little while later I went to Suitengu. I will soon investigate when the Inoue at Suitengu took me in. Expect a report by the next time.

Woah, I've been here for so long. I guess I can write quite a lot. I’ve been at it for about an hour already. I’m now able to stay around for some time, huh. Though, in exchange, it takes longer between the times I can come. I have so much stuff to think about that I don’t know where to begin. I hope your investigations are going well, Disco-san. Well then, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when you come back. Good ni~ght.





After that, it was written ‘This world’s events are all decided by the interactions between destiny and wills, they say. Did you know?’ in red crayon.

“This is where the fun begins,” Kozue laughed. “It’s amazing, I’m telling you.” “You’ve been here for a while now, girl, haven’t you?” “Don’t call me ‘girl.’” “Kozue-chan.” “You call the small me, Kozue. No need for an honorific.” “That’s because I can’t think of you two as the same person.” “Well, I guess that way is better, then. Since we’re going to be in love.” “...” “Haha. I’m seventeen, you know. You’re really kinda pure, Disco-san. Of course you are, huh. With your dear Norma-san. In what year of high school did you meet her?” “First year.” “So fifteen years old? Before you turned sixteen?” “Yeah.” “How old are you right now?” “Thirty-five.” “That means it’s been twenty years already? So you’ve been earnestly feeling for Norma-san for longer than I’ve been alive for.” “Not exactly earnestly.” “Heeh...well, not a big deal. But ultimately, you’ve only had eyes for Norma-san, both before and now, right?” “Who knows.” “But in the sketchbook, you’re mine, Disco-san. You’re such a big romanticist, geez.” “Do the letters continue their exchange like that?” “Yes.” “I wonder why.” “Why what?” “Why do we miss each other so much? You know, inside the sketchbook. While in reality I’m trying to stay as close to Kozue as possible to wait for you.” “Ah, that has to do with your ‘investigation.’ Didn’t it come up in this letter too?” “It did.” “That one.” “What am I investigating?” “I wonder, indeed.” “Do you know and aren’t saying or do you not know?” “This isn’t reality, Disco-san. These letters are merely made up in order for us to copy them, aren’t they?” Aren’t they, my ass. Didn’t she believe in them? “Just look forward to what comes next. No preview for the next episode. Isn’t that how the stories usually go? The stories known as life. A drama without a synopsis. And that’s what makes life fun.” “Kozue-chan, do you have a boyfriend?” “Eh? Why?” “You have someone you like, right?” “Why is that?” “Kinda because you’re good at leading people around by the nose.” “...Does that have anything to do with romance?” “No idea. So? Do you?” “I do.” “Don’t toy with him too much, okay? It can make things go off the rails when they originally shouldn’t.” “Really?” “Yeah, since you can become addicted to the act of manipulating people in itself.” “I’m not especially trying to manipulate anyone though.” I shrugged. “If that’s the case then you’re cool.” “..But...” “What?” “...Nothing.” “Well, some people are simply good at that, not just for romance.” “...” “Kozuechan, what happens to you while you’re here? To that girl in eleven years.” “I told you to not call me ‘girl,’ didn’t I?” “Kozue-chan.” “The person I like is insanely smart and is kinda like a demon.” “...Heeh.” “He comes off as kind but in reality he isn’t. It’s not anything as tame as ‘he’s kinda cold,’ the guy is insanely cold, a blizzard in the North Pole. He sometimes makes me feel like humans are scary.” “Aren’t you better off not being near that guy?”

“That’s what makes people really scary, you see. There are times where I can’t afford not to meet him.” “Hmm.” “‘Hmm,’ you say... And what about your romantic situation?” “So-so on my side. That reminds me, you told me to wait for Norma-san or something, no? What did you mean by that?” “Asking again? Wasn’t that yesterday or this night over here? You must be really intrigued. Didn’t I say it was better not to tell you? Same for Hoshino Masato.” “I want to hear it. At least for reference.” “It’ll haunt you and eat you up from the inside. If I tell you.” “That’s fine.” “No way. I mean, it’s all going to slowly become clear in the letters from now on. You should enjoy it while it lasts. The letters are all made up either way so that might not really happen, no? Who cares about some lies.” “Just for reference.” “No way.” “Hey, please.” “The time I’m away eleven years in the future is brief. Probably five or ten seconds, around that. It ends with me looking in a daze for a little. So when I’m talking to friends or on the phone, they just get angry because I’m not listening to them. Since this all started, I've been trying to be seated as much as possible. I refuse to go to the store or run errands. I haven’t ridden my bike, either. Disco-san, is this a dream or a hallucination I’m having?” “...” “Did I go crazy, create a sort of world inside my head, that of being here, and I’m merely wandering in there?” “At least I feel like I have an ego.” “But I have no way to prove that.” “Yeah. But that idea is a delusion, Kozue-chan.” “That’s all you can say, Disco-san. ...I wonder if there’s a way to prove this isn’t one.” “...How about the knife and fork you dug up?” “Aah. That. That was pretty good. It worked well. But the thing is, after that, I started wondering: didn’t I awaken precognition, clairvoyance, or these kinds of superpowers to make that happen, under the same logic as the delusions? Though asking here is meaningless since I won’t be able to trust the answer.” “Yeah, I can only say that you’re mistaken. I did bury them myself. The knife and the fork.” “Well, if the sketchbook, the knife, and the fork are all delusions, then I’m completely out there. Beyond saving.” “It’s better to not think that way.” “It’s because I sought advice from that demon, I bet. Definitely. That made me go a little crazy.” “From your boyfriend?” “We’re not going out.” “...So isn’t it better to stay away from that boy as much as possible?” “You’re right.

And I do understand. But Disco-san too, shouldn’t you stay away from Norma-san?” “Why?” “...But Norma-san is getting closer.” “Eh?” “I’m talking about the made-up letters.” “Huh.” “Ah, aren’t you expecting something? They’re made up, you know? Fiction. A complete lie.” “We don’t know whether they’re a complete lie or not. Also I told you I’m not expecting anything.” “An old man’s romance is nothing but creepy, huh. Yuck. ...I’m kinda hungry now, can I eat something? Sorry.” “Sure. I still haven’t had breakfast either.” On that note we both got off the bed, left the sketchbook on my futon on the sofa, left Kozue’s bedroom, and went to the dining room.

End page 44.