Fireflies: A Play by Suzue Toshiro

(revised script courtesy of the playwright)
FOR TANGHALANG ATENEO USE ONLY
DO NOT CIRCULATE
Fireflies
（Running fingers through her hair）
A Play by
Suzue Toshirō
Translated by
David G. Goodman
Cast of Characters:
Man (Nakagawa) Woman (Iida Tomoyo1)
Man (Murai) Woman (Ishii Megumi)
Man (Hayakawa)
Husband Wife
Scene 1: Tomoyo’s Room
(An interior. A tatami room. A man 〔 Nakagawa〕 stands on top of a low glass
table that is not necessarily suitable to the decor. It is a summer night. He seems
blown by the wind.)
Nakagawa (whinnying and snorting): A horse!
(Nakagawa’s hand gestures toward the light cord hanging from the ceiling. The
light goes out. The voice of a woman 〔 Tomoyo〕 is heard.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: Hey!
(Nakagawa whinnies.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: What are you doing?!
(The lights come up. Nakagawa has pulled the cord. Tomoyo has been standing
in the corner of the room carrying a tray laden with a glass pitcher of barley tea
and two glasses.)
Nakagawa: Pretend there‟s a horse.
Tomoyo: What horse?
Nakagawa: You know, a horse. (He whinnies.)
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Nakagawa: It‟d feel good to be a horse, don‟t you think?
(Tomoyo ignores Nakagawa and tries to set the tray down on the low table where
he is standing. Irked by her lack of response, Nakagawa turns off the light.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: Hey!
(Nakagawa whinnies.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: All right, all right, what?!
Nakagawa‟s Voice: I told you, there‟s this horse.
Tomoyo‟s Voice: Stop it. Turn on the light.
(Nakagawa whinnies more insistently.)
(In the darkness, there are sounds of a peeved woman and indications that she is
trying to turn on the light. The light comes on. Tomoyo is reaching for the cord.)
Nakagawa: A horse, I said.
(Tomoyo is silent. She composes herself and sets her tray down on the table.)
Nakagawa: He was there, this horse. At the entrance to a mountain pass. Just one. He
looked happy. A man was pouring water over him. He was laughing.
Tomoyo: He doesn‟t laugh.
Nakagawa: He does too.
Tomoyo: No, he doesn‟t.
Nakagawa: The horse was laughing. He lifts the corners of his lips like this, showing his
white teeth.
Tomoyo: Lips? Where are a horse‟s lips?
Nakagawa: Here. At the corners of its mouth.
Tomoyo: So if it‟s a mare, she wears lipstick, right?
Nakagawa: She was a mare, so she wore lipstick. She had this sexy laugh.
Tomoyo: Get down.
(Nakagawa gets off the table and sits down opposite Tomoyo.)
Nakagawa: Actually, the horse didn‟t laugh.
(Tomoyo does not respond. She pours liquid in the glasses.)
Nakagawa: She didn‟t wear lipstick either. You‟d need a giant tube like this. The size of
one of those kokeshi dolls.1
Tomoyo: Drink.
Nakagawa: I was only thinking of your electric bill. . . .
(Tomoyo does not answer. Nakagawa stands up and turns out the light.)
Tomoyo: What are you doing?!
Nakagawa: It‟s cool.
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Nakagawa: See? Without the light. . . .
Tomoyo: It‟s cooler?
Nakagawa: You can pretend you‟re a horse.
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Nakagawa: I just discovered that.
(The light comes on. Tomoyo has pulled the cord.)
Tomoyo: I‟m not worried about the electric bill. I‟m going to turn the air conditioner off
soon anyway.
Nakagawa: Oh.
Tomoyo: You‟re going to leave after you‟ve had your tea.
Nakagawa: I am?
Tomoyo: Aren‟t you?
(Nakagawa is silent.)
Tomoyo: Get down.
(Nakagawa gets down from the table.)
Nakagawa: It‟s hard to sleep when the cooler‟s off.
Tomoyo: On tropical nights, young women sleep alone, tossing and turning.
Nakagawa: Tossing and turning? What‟s the point?
Tomoyo: We toss and turn. We like tossing and turning.
Tomoyo: Tossing and turning. . . .
(Nakagawa stands. He undoes the buttons on his shirt.)
Tomoyo: What are you doing?
Nakagawa: It‟s not good to toss and turn alone.
Tomoyo: What?
Nakagawa: Let‟s toss and turn together.
Tomoyo: I. . . .
Nakagawa: That‟s what we‟ll do.
(Tomoyo stands up.)
Tomoyo: No. (She rebuttons Nakagawa’s shirt.) Time‟s up. (She thrusts his tea at him.)
Drink.
(Nakagawa is silent. Tomoyo sits. She drinks her tea.)
Tomoyo: Why‟d you come over?
Nakagawa: No reason.
Tomoyo: What‟s that supposed to mean?
Nakagawa: What do you mean, what‟s that supposed to mean?
Tomoyo: Showing up in the middle of the night like this.
Nakagawa: Hold on a minute. See. . . .
Tomoyo: What?
Nakagawa: I can‟t come over unless I want something? Is that it?
Tomoyo: I never said that.
Nakagawa: Yes, you did. You just said it.
Tomoyo: I did not. Did I say something? Just now? Did I?
Nakagawa: You did.
Tomoyo: What did I say?
Nakagawa: “What‟s that supposed to mean?”
Tomoyo: What‟s that supposed to mean?
Nakagawa: There, you said it again.
Tomoyo: What?!
Nakagawa: It‟s a hot night, and I was walking along gazing at the moon and all of a
sudden your face appeared to me. That happens sometimes, you know?
Tomoyo: So? Let it appear. It made you happy, didn‟t it?
Nakagawa: I guess.
Tomoyo: You‟re happy because my face appeared, right?
Nakagawa: I guess.
Tomoyo: You met me, didn‟t you. We‟re meeting now, aren‟t we? You‟re happy, aren‟t
you?
Nakagawa: Not that happy.
Tomoyo: Really? I am.
Nakagawa: Yeah?
Tomoyo: Relationships are a lot of work. (She drinks her tea.)
Nakagawa: What‟s that supposed to mean?
Tomoyo: What?
Nakagawa: What‟s your point?
Tomoyo: Point?
Nakagawa: What‟s your point and what‟s the point of your point?
Tomoyo: Point? I‟m happy. That‟s my point.
Nakagawa: No, you‟re not.
Tomoyo: I am too! I am too!
Nakagawa: What am I to you? What do you think I am?
Tomoyo: Why are you asking that all of a sudden? What‟s with the attitude?
Nakagawa: What attitude? I just want to know. Well?
Tomoyo: Well. . . .
Nakagawa: Well?
(Tomoyo groans. She stares at her tea.)
Tomoyo: Have some.
(Nakagawa drinks.)
Tomoyo: “Boyfriend.” “Lover.” How should I know?
Tomoyo: You know what it means. . . . “Sex partner” in English.
Nakagawa: I am?
Tomoyo: Sei-kankeisha in Japanese.
Nakagawa: Don‟t translate it. It‟s gross!
Tomoyo: That‟s it, though, isn‟t it?
Nakagawa: I guess.
Tomoyo: That‟s all there is to it. It‟s surprising how little else there is. (She drinks her
tea.) You stare at me, thinking. . . . See?
Nakagawa: See what?
Tomoyo: Into my heart. That‟s what it seems like. You close your eyes. “You‟re not
here,” you think to yourself. “You‟re not here. So I have to imagine you. The
shape of your chin. You‟re thin eyebrows, soft throat.” That‟s what you do!
(Nakagawa does not answer.)
Tomoyo: How strange is that?
Nakagawa: I don‟t know what you‟re talking about.
Tomoyo: Shall I open my heart to you, right here, right now?
Tomoyo: It‟s because you betrayed her, that‟s what people will say.
Tomoyo: Anyway, let‟s leave it at that.
(Tomoyo reaches out toward Nakagawa’s chest. He grabs her hand.)
Nakagawa: I‟m staying the night.
Tomoyo: No, you‟re not.
(Tomoyo shakes herself free and drinks the remainder of her tea.)
Tomoyo: Finish your tea. That‟s the rule.
(Nakagawa just looks at Tomoyo. Tomoyo stands. She is about to go to the next
room.)
Tomoyo: I drank mine.
Nakagawa: Let‟s go watch the fireflies.
Tomoyo: There aren‟t any fireflies around here.
Nakagawa: There must be.
Tomoyo: Where?
Nakagawa: The river.
Tomoyo: The river‟s all swollen and muddy from yesterday‟s rain.
(Tomoyo exits.)
Nakagawa: You mean there won‟t be any fireflies if the river‟s muddy?
Tomoyo‟s Voice: There aren‟t any around here to begin with. It‟s too late in the year
anyway. Young people these days don‟t know the first thing about nature! It‟s a
scandal!
(Nakagawa finishes his tea. He stands up and climbs onto the table. He turns off
the light.)
Nakagawa‟s Voice (whinnying): There was only one horse, and she seemed to be living
with the man. She didn‟t seem the least bit happy about it.
(The light comes on. Tomoyo has turned it on.)
Tomoyo: Say, thank you for the tea.
Nakagawa: Thank you for the tea.
(Blackout)
(Tomoyo is standing, alone. She has just turned on the light. She is looking at the
space where Nakagawa’s face had been.)
Tomoyo: The rain stops, the wind stops, the wind blows.
(She turns out the light.)
Tomoyo: The wind . . . is blowing . . . a little.
(She turns the light back on.)
Tomoyo: Right away, steam starts rising from the ground.
(Tomoyo looks at the glass Nakagawa left.)
Tomoyo: The steam smells of asphalt. Grains of asphalt rise from the earth. They attack
my lungs.
(Tomoyo picks up the glass and takes it to the kitchen.)
Tomoyo: The pitch-black particles pollute my lungs. They fill up the crevices in the tissue.
Finely, insidiously, from the edges.
(Tomoyo returns. She stands in the corner of the room she has just entered. )
Tomoyo: Attacked from the edges, my lungs don‟t know what hit them. They gradually
weaken. They get weaker and weaker until I suffocate.
(Tomoyo drinks a cup of water.)
Tomoyo: There‟s no one here with me.
(Tomoyo moves to the center of the room and extinguishes the light.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: I‟m alone.
(Tomoyo turns the light back on. She gazes toward where Nakagawa had been.)
Tomoyo: Stupid, why‟d you leave?!
(She stands there motionless. After a while, she caresses the table where
Nakagawa had stood. )
Tomoyo: I don‟t even have tears to cry.
(Blackout.)
Scene 3: A Riverbank Without Fireflies
(Husband and Wife enter in the darkness. They each carry a flashlight and walk
separately. Wife enters first, then Husband.)
Husband: Hold on! Hold on!
Wife: Okay. (She stops and extinguishes the light.)
Husband (stopping and turning off his light): Hold on a minute.
Wife (after a pause): You see any?
Husband (after a pause): Nope.
(Husband turns on his flashlight. He is shining it at the ground at his feet. Wife
turns hers on as well. Husband squats down. He is examining the contour of the
ground. He extinguishes his light. Wife does not extinguish hers.)
Husband: Shall we turn them off again and see?
Wife: There aren‟t any here. It‟s the wrong season.
Husband: Just once more.
(Wife extinguishes her light.)
Wife: See?
Husband: You‟re right.
(Wife turns on her light. Husband seems to have sat down on the ground. Wife
turns her light on him in this position.)
Wife: The ground‟s wet. It‟s still wet.
Husband: I don‟t care.
Wife: It rained yesterday. Hard.
Husband: I don‟t care.
(Acquiescing, Wife squats down, too. Out of consideration for Husband, she
shines her light only at her own feet.)
Wife: Scary, isn‟t it. Dark like this.
Husband: Yeah.
(Wife shines the light on Husband’s face.)
Husband: What?
Wife: Nothing.
Husband: You‟re blinding me.
Wife: Sorry.
(Wife once more turns the light on her own feet.)
Wife: I was just wondering what kind of expression you had on your face.
Husband: An expression like this.
Wife: Oh.
Husband: What kind of an expression did you think I had?
Wife: No expression in particular.
Husband: Like a demon?
Wife: That‟s not what I meant. It just struck me as funny.
Husband: Funny? What did?
Wife: It‟s so dark! It just struck me as funny.
Husband: Yeah?
Wife: Don‟t you think so?
(Husband turns on his light. He shines it on his own face from below. He shows
it to Wife. He is making the face of a demon. After a moment, he turns the light
off.)
Husband: Did I look funny?
Wife (after a pause): Yes.
Husband: Scary?
Wife (after a pause): No.
(Wife has turned her light off, too. But it immediately comes on again. Wife
illuminates her own face from below. She makes a face like a demon. After a
moment, the light goes off.)
Husband (after a pause): You weren‟t scary either.
Wife: Oh.
Husband: Funny but not scary.
Wife: Oh.
Husband: Let‟s stop.
Wife: Why? Aren‟t you having fun?
Husband: A little. I‟m having a little fun.
Wife: Then let‟s go on. Just a little longer. Maybe it‟ll be more fun if we keep at it.
Husband: The fun might escalate, is that it?
Wife: See, you are having fun.
Husband: I‟m afraid I‟ll see this really gruesome face.
Wife: Whose?
Husband: Yours.
Wife: How come? Have you ever seen it?
Husband: What do you mean, have I ever seen what?
Wife: Nothing. Never mind.
Husband: What? Are you …?
Wife: Am I what?
Husband: The one who makes really gruesome faces.
Wife: When?
Husband: I don‟t know. Sometimes.
Wife: What for?
Husband: I said, I don‟t know.
Wife: I do not! How rude!
Husband: I suppose you‟re right.
Wife: What about you?
Husband: Me? What about me?
Wife: Don‟t you make gruesome faces?
Husband: I‟m safe.
Wife: Why? Based on what?
Husband: No particular basis. But I‟m safe. I don‟t have the confidence.
Wife: Confidence?
Husband: The confidence to make a really gruesome face.
Wife: And I have the confidence?
Husband: That‟s not what I meant.
Wife: I don‟t have the confidence, not me. The nerve! A gruesome face!
Husband: Sorry.
Wife: How rude!
(Wife switches on her light. She shines it on her feet.)
Wife: That was some face, though.
Husband: Yeah?
Wife: Before. The one you made.
Husband: Really?
Wife: But what sort of gruesome face were you thinking of?
Husband: I was just imagining it.
Wife: Like what?
Husband: Well. . . .
Wife: For example.
Husband: Well. . . . Wait a minute.
Wife: All right.
Husband: I‟m imagining it now.
(Wife switches off her light. Pause. She switches it on again.)
Wife: I‟m getting scared.
Husband: See.
Wife: I had this feeling it was going to be really gruesome.
Husband: See? That‟s why I said we should stop.
Wife: All right.
Husband: It‟ll get scary.
Wife: Yes. Let‟s stop.
(Husband turns on his light. He is shining it on his own feet.)
Wife: I‟ll bet your bottom‟s cold.
Husband: I‟m all right.
Wife: It‟s going to get cold, you‟ll see.
Husband: I don‟t mind.
Wife: You get the runs when your bottom gets chilled.
(Husband does not respond. Wife shines her light on Husband’s seat. Annoyed by
the light, Husband waves it away.)
Husband: It was all the rage once.
Wife: What was?
Husband: Making gruesome faces. Between us brothers.
Wife: Brothers? You mean you and your older brother?
Husband: Yeah. When we were in elementary school. When we were alone together, all
of a sudden one of us would make this really gruesome face. That was fun. Stupid
but fun. The point was to catch the other guy off guard. You‟d really feel dumb
when the other guy‟d say “Boo!” when you least expected it.
Wife: You mean your brother?
Husband: Yeah. See, your heart would be pounding as you waited for the right moment.
We two young brothers would be walking around and around along the path
between the paddy fields like that. Mom must have thought we were possessed.
You think we were developing skills that have stood us in good stead as adults?
Wife: I‟m sure of it. Nothing in children‟s play ever goes to waste.
Husband: You think so?
Wife: That‟s why you were so good just now?
Husband: Good?
Wife: At making faces. You surprised me.
Husband: Yeah?
Wife: It‟s a kind of talent. You‟re great!
Husband: Do you think it has any larger social significance?
Wife: Significance? I don‟t know.
Husband: See!
Wife: But it‟s a terrific talent to have.
Husband: Terrific?
Wife: Yes. So you‟re terrific.
Wife: I do.
Husband (after a pause): Thanks.
(Wife extinguishes her light. Husband turns his on and shines it on Wife’s face.
Wife stares back at Husband and does not change her expression. Husband
switches off the light.)
Wife: It‟s true.
Husband (after a pause): I suppose. Anyway, we were a just couple of stupid kids.
Wife: Stupid?
Husband: But it‟s great to be brothers when you‟re small. I just remembered.
Wife: Is that so?
Husband: Yeah.
(Wife is silent. She switches on her flashlight.)
Wife: Shall we go?
Husband: I composed a poem this morning.
Wife: You did? A poem?
Husband: A poem.
Wife: A haiku?
Husband: What they call free verse.
Wife: What‟s that?
Husband: Well, listen. You‟ll be moved. You‟ll be surprised.
Wife: Really?
Husband: Would you like to hear it?
Wife: It‟s a haiku, right?
Husband: Free verse.
Wife: I don‟t think I‟ll understand it.
Husband: Don‟t worry. You‟ll understand it. You‟ll be moved. Good poems aren‟t hard
to understand. Not in the least. You don‟t listen with your head, I guess. It‟s like
you savor them in your heart.
Wife: Is that right?
Husband: No mistake about it.
Wife: Will I be moved?
Husband: You‟ll be stunned.
Wife: I‟ll listen then.
Husband: Will you?
Wife: Yes.
(Husband puts his flashlight inside his shirt and pauses for dramatic effect.)
Husband: Ready?
Wife: Ready.
Husband: You have to be tensed and ready.
Wife: I‟m tensed.
(Husband’s flashlight stops moving.)
Husband: Rim of mountains. . . .
(Wife is silent. Husband’s light moves slightly.)
Wife: Yes?
Husband: I‟m nervous.
Wife: Is that all?
Husband: No, there‟s more. I‟ve only just started, haven‟t I?
Wife: Oh.
Husband: You wouldn‟t have the slightest idea what it‟s about if it ended there.
Wife: I thought that‟s all there was to it. I don‟t know anything about poetry.
Husband: Here goes.
Wife: All right.
(Husband’s light stops moving.)
Husband: Rim of clouds. . . .
Wife: Okay.
Husband: Rim of fingers.
Wife: Okay.
(Husband’s light moves slightly. Wife is silent.)
Husband: That‟s it.
Wife: It is?
(Husband is silent.)
Wife (after a pause): Okay.
(Husband’s light starts moving around inside his shirt.)
Wife: See!
Husband: What?
Wife: I didn‟t understand. Not a bit.
Husband: You didn‟t?
Wife: And something‟s missing.
Husband: Missing?
Wife: Syllables.
Husband: I told you, it‟s free verse.
Wife: Oh.
Husband: It‟s not five-seven-five syllables like a haiku.
Wife: What about the seasonal allusion.
Husband: Seasonal allusion?
Wife: There‟s no word to indicate the season in free verse either?
Husband: I‟m not sure.
Wife: In haiku, you need a word to indicate the season. Haiku without a seasonal allusion
are called senryū.
Husband: You know a lot about poetry, don‟t you?
Wife: I‟m right, aren‟t I? What‟s the seasonal allusion? “Finger”? Is that it?
Husband: Finger? What season would that be for? Spring? Fall? Winter?
Wife: Spring.
Husband: How come?
Wife: Because people suck on their fingers in the spring.
Husband: In the spring?
Wife: Yes.
Husband: People suck on their fingers in the spring?
Wife: Sort of.
Husband: People don‟t suck on their fingers in winter?
Wife: No.
Husband: You never suck on your fingers in the winter?
Wife: I don‟t suck on my fingers at any time of year.
Husband: Then why spring?
Wife: How should I know. They decided it in the old days.
Husband: When?
Wife: In the old days; not recently.
Husband: I don‟t understand.
Wife: In the olden days people were poor, and in springtime their rice supply would run
out. So people would say, it‟s finger-sucking time again!
Husband: Pretty depressing seasonal allusion. . . .
Wife: That‟s the way things were; no, that‟s the way things are.
(Husband is silent. Wife shines her light on Husband’s face. Noticing his
expression, she turns her light immediately at her own feet.)
Wife: I‟m wrong. There‟s no seasonal allusion. Because it‟s free verse. It‟s a senryū, a
free verse senryū.
Husband (after a pause): You make it sound worthless.
Wife: No! It‟s great!
Husband: Great!?.
Wife: See, that‟s why I hesitated. You get so dejected.
Husband: I wrote that poem about the landscape this morning.
Wife: This morning?
Husband: You were asleep, remember?
Wife: I was?
Husband: Of course you were. I was awake. That‟s how I know.
Wife: Really?
Husband: The dawn was beautiful. Everything was radiant. The rim of the mountains was
white; the rim of the clouds blended from yellow to red and blue. I held up my
fingers against that distant landscape. And even my fingers seemed to be shining.
Whitely.
Wife: Wow!
Husband: I was moved. It was so beautiful.
(Husband extinguishes his flashlight. Wife follows suit.)
Husband: The rim of mountains/ The rim of clouds/ The rim of fingers.
Wife (after a pause): Didn‟t you get back to sleep again?
(Husband switches his light on.)
Wife: Crying won‟t bring the child back to life.
(Husband extinguishes his light.)
Husband: This is what it‟s like.
Wife: What?
(Husband turns on his light.)
Husband: This is what it‟s like, see?
(Husband turns his light off.)
Husband: See?
(He turns his light on again.)
Husband: You try it.
(Husband turns out his light. Wife puts her light inside her blouse. She speaks
while turning the flashlight on and off.)
Wife: You should have wakened me.
Husband: I couldn‟t.
Wife: Why?
Husband: I was watching your expression as you slept.
Wife: My expression?
Husband: Yeah.
(The flashlights are flashing on and off.)
Wife: How was it?
Husband: What?
Wife: My expression.
Husband: Beautiful. Radiant.
(Wife gets to her feet and meanders about the stage. Husband stands also. Wife’s
flashlight goes out.)
Wife: Thank you.
(Only the husband’s light meanders across the stage. )
Blackout.
Scene 4: Nakagawa’s Room
(Nakagawa’s voice is heard whinnying and snorting in the darkness. After a

moment, the voice seems to have moved to the center of the room. He turns on the
light.
There is a low table in the middle of the room like the one in Scene 1. Nakagawa
climbs onto it. He experiments with various poses but cannot find the perfect one.
He circles the table. It is hot. He strips to his undershorts.
Nakagawa tries whinnying again. It’s not working. It’s hot. He descends from
the table, takes a folding fan from his briefcase, and, while fanning himself, tries
once more to become a horse.
Just then, another man 〔Murai〕 enters. He stands at the edge of the room and
stares at Nakagawa in silence. Murai puts down his briefcase and disappears into
the kitchen.)
Nakagawa: Hey. (He gets down and sits formally on the floor, his legs folded under him.
He feels he has been caught in a compromising position. He takes a book from his
brief case and nonchalantly reads it. He is only going through the motions, of
course.)
(Murai returns. He is carrying a plastic bottle of juice and two glasses. He sits.
He pours the juice into the glasses. Nakagawa coughs. Murai stares at the
glasses.)
Nakagawa: Hey.
Murai: Yeah.
Murai: How come you‟re half naked?
Nakagawa: Huh?
(Murai drinks.)
Murai: Lukewarm.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: This juice is lukewarm.
(Murai lies down. He is taking deep breaths.)
Nakagawa: Hey.
Murai: Huh?
Nakagawa: Good evening.
Murai: Yeah. Put something on, will you. You‟re making me nervous.
Nakagawa: Nervous?
Murai: What if somebody drops in? What would I do? I‟d be misunderstood. My tastes
don‟t run that way.
Nakagawa: Tastes?
(Murai’s deep breathing is audible. He seems to have relaxed.)
Nakagawa: Who‟d show up at this time of night?
Murai: I did.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: I . . . for example.
(Murai sits up and laughs self-consciously. As soon as he does so, he disappears
into the kitchen. Nakagawa drinks the juice in Murai’s glass.)
Murai (from the kitchen): What‟s this?
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: Don‟t you have anything to eat?
Nakagawa: Hm.
Murai: What‟s the point of having a refrigerator?
Nakagawa: Hey, listen. . . .
(Nakagawa is about to go to the kitchen when Murai reappears. They collide.)
Murai: It‟s getting to me.
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: It‟s getting to me. It‟s too much. What‟s going on?
Nakagawa: What?
(Murai chuckles. He goes to the table and sits. He takes some deep breaths.)
Murai: That‟s better.
Nakagawa: Yeah.
(Murai smiles at Nakagawa and picks up his glass, but it is empty.)
Murai: Damn it, Nakagawa.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: Use your own damn glass. I brought one for you, too, didn‟t I? Damn it.
Nakagawa: Right.
Murai: This one‟s yours.
(Murai pours juice into both glasses.)
Murai: Nakagawa.
Nakagawa: Yeah?
Murai: I‟ll drink from this one.
(Murai drinks. He takes deep breath. He strips to the waist.)
Murai: Right. It‟s broiling in here. This apartment‟s not fit to live in. Shit.
(Murai lies down. He shuts his eyes. He takes deep breaths. Nakagawa
approaches Murai.)
Murai: Good, good. That‟s better. That‟s better.
Nakagawa: Murai.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: Murai.
Murai (alarmed): Hey! What d‟you want? Stupid! Damn!
Nakagawa: Hm?
Murai: You‟re disgusting. Stupid! Don‟t come so close.
Nakagawa: Stupid?
Murai: What d‟you want?
Nakagawa: Want? . . . Listen. . . .
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: Go home if you‟re hot. Your place has air conditioning, doesn‟t it?
Murai: Yeah.
Nakagawa: And food, too.
Murai: Yeah.
Nakagawa: Well?
Murai: But that‟s just it.
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: What the hell‟s wrong with me, you know?
Nakagawa: Huh?
(Murai exhales deeply and turns on his side.)
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: What d‟you want?
Murai: Nothing.
Nakagawa: What d‟you mean nothing?
Murai: Take it easy. I‟m just happy to be here with you. Happy. I‟m grateful. What
about you? Aren‟t you happy?
Nakagawa: Happy?
Murai: You‟re not, are you? I suppose not.
Nakagawa: I guess. . . .
Murai: Well. . . .
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: Nothing. I feel like crying.
Nakagawa: Crying?
Murai: Sorry. Let me, okay?
Nakagawa: What?
(Murai seems to be sobbing convulsively.)
Nakagawa: Hey! Hey!
Murai: Sorry. I‟m sorry. It‟s just. . . .
Nakagawa: Oh.
(Murai seems to be sobbing.)
Nakagawa: I‟m happy.
Murai: Really?
Nakagawa: Really.
Murai: Are you grateful?
Nakagawa: Grateful?
Murai: You‟re not, are you. Damn. . . .
Nakagawa: What? What?
Murai: Sorry. Sorry. This won‟t do. I‟m just in your way. (He rises.) Well. . . .
(Murai drinks his juice.)
Murai: Lukewarm.
Nakagawa: Listen. Whose juice are you complaining about?
Murai: Mine.
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: It‟s mine. I bought it and put it in the refrigerator day before yesterday.
Nakagawa: You did?
Murai: Didn‟t I?
Nakagawa: I guess.
Murai: I did. So I have the right to complain all I want.
(Murai drinks the juice.)
Murai: It‟s lukewarm. Damn. Anyway, have some.
Nakagawa: I guess.
Murai: Go ahead.
(Nakagawa is silent. He drinks the juice.)
Murai: Why all this crying?
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: Why all this crying?
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: I mean, really. . . .
Nakagawa: I wasn‟t crying.
Murai: No?
Nakagawa: I wasn‟t.
Murai: Oh?
Nakagawa: Hm?
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: No, I mean. . . .
Murai: All this crying.
Nakagawa: I thought you were asking me.
Murai: I was.
Nakagawa: Why all this crying, you said.
Murai: I meant, why are people always crying.
Nakagawa: I see. . . . So that‟s it.
Murai: You mean you were crying?
Nakagawa: I wasn‟t. I just said so.
Murai: What? Why?
Nakagawa: I just wasn‟t crying, that‟s all.
Murai: Why, why, why? I really want to hear this.
Nakagawa: I wasn‟t crying, I said. I just wasn‟t crying. You‟re getting on my nerves.
Murai: Don‟t get so defensive. Ah-ah. (He lies down.)
Nakagawa: You just don‟t know when to let up.
Murai: It just makes it more obvious.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Murai: I‟m hopeless, though.
Nakagawa: How come?
Murai: I‟m solitary for no reason.
Nakagawa: Solitary.
Murai: There‟s this tightness in my chest. My heart races. I can‟t breathe. Without
warning. That‟s how solitary I get.
Nakagawa: What‟s wrong? You sick? Heart disease?
Murai: No.
Nakagawa: How long have you had it?
Murai: Since I started working. That‟s when it began to happen all the time. I finish at
5:30. I leave. By the time I have dinner and get home, it‟s 7:30. There‟s nothing
to do. I lie down. At the beginning, all I had to do was turn on the TV and I‟d be
all right. But recently, that doesn‟t help.
Nakagawa: Go see a doctor. A heart specialist.
Murai (sitting up): It‟s not my heart. When I‟m by myself without anything to do and have
all this time on my hands, I get lonely, that‟s all. I‟m terrified of my days off.
Nakagawa: Yeah?
Murai: I can‟t sleep when I‟m alone, so I‟m staying here tonight.
Nakagawa: What? In other words, you‟re lonely, is that it?
Murai (after a brief pause): You were crying yourself a minute ago.
(Murai lies down.)
Nakagawa: I was not.
(Murai takes off the rest of his clothes, so he is wearing nothing but his
underpants.)
Murai: It‟s so damned hot.
Nakagawa: Yeah.
(Nakagawa fans himself with a folding fan. He stops and fans Murai.)
Nakagawa: You going to die?
Murai: People have to die some time.
(Murai takes the fan from Nakagawa.)
Murai: Listen. .. .
Nakagawa: Yeah?
Murai: You‟re right. I‟m lonely.
Nakagawa: Right.
Murai: And that‟s what makes it hard to breathe.
(Murai lies down.)
Murai: Now I‟ll listen to what you have to say.
Nakagawa: Don‟t bother.
Murai: Go ahead, talk.
Nakagawa: I wasn‟t crying, that‟s all.
(Blackout.)
Scene 5: Tomoyo’s Office
(Tomoyo wears a smock for work. She is in a room with a large desk and has five
or six large rolled-up tubes of paper under her arm.)
Tomoyo: Umph!
(She energetically spreads out one of the rolls. Her movement sends the others
scattering to the floor.)
Tomoyo: Darn!
(Tomoyo crouches down and begins gathering up the rolls. Just then, her male
colleague Hayakawa enters. He is wearing a suit.)
Hayakawa: Miss Iida?
Tomoyo: Oh, good morning!
Hayakawa: You on break?
Tomoyo: No, I am not on break!
Hayakawa: Shutting yourself up in this room. Relaxing.
Tomoyo: I‟m working, I said. Not relaxing, first thing in the morning.
Hayakawa: No, I suppose not. (He is trying to suppress a yawn.)
Tomoyo: Did you just clock in?
Hayakawa: Does it really matter?
Tomoyo: A regular executive.
(Hayakawa does not respond. Tomoyo continues her work, spreading out another
roll of paper and so forth.)
Hayakawa: I wish I could take a break.
(Hayakawa exits.)
Tomoyo: I am not on break! The nerve! “Maintenance Chart”—that‟s not it. “Regional
Plan”—that‟s not it.
(No sooner has she spread out a sheet of paper than it rolls itself back into a tube.
The process continues.)
Tomoyo: “Construction Plan”—here it is!
(Apparently she has found the chart she is looking for. She spreads it out on the
desk. As she tries to flatten it by rolling it up backwards, Hayakawa returns. He
is wearing a mask. He carries a coffee cup in each hand.)
Tomoyo: Oh!
Hayakawa: It‟s me, Hayakawa.
(Tomoyo is speechless.)
Hayakawa: The masked marauder of the workplace! (He spreads out the sheet of paper
and places the coffee cups on its corners to hold it down. He sits.) Both the
section chief and the department head are away today.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Hayakawa: So we find ourselves in a lawless wilderness.
(Tomoyo sets to work with a colored pencil.)
Hayakawa: You drink coffee, right?
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: Anyway, there‟s no tea in the coffee room. (He tries to drink his coffee, but
obviously the mask is in his way.) Oops! …just kidding.
(Tomoyo says nothing. Hayakawa removes the mask and sips his coffee.)
Hayakawa: Wakes you up.
Tomoyo: It is nine o‟clock.
(Hayakawa puts his head down and spreads his arms out on the desk.)
Hayakawa: But I‟m tired.
(Tomoyo drinks her coffee. She has picked it up, saucer and all, so the paper
naturally rolls itself back up into a tube. She hastily replaces the saucer to hold it.
Hayakawa sits up. Tomoyo continues working.)
Hayakawa: Miss Iida!
(Tomoyo says nothing.)
Hayakawa: Miss Iida!!
(Again, Tomoyo says nothing.)
Hayakawa: Let‟s take a break.
(Tomoyo ignores him and keeps working.)
Hayakawa: Coochy-coochy-coo!
(Hayakawa’s words are not accompanied by any movement, so Tomoyo reacts
with surprise.)
Hayakawa: Come on, let‟s take a break.
Tomoyo: The deadline is this morning.
Hayakawa: What? The coloring deadline?
Tomoyo: The section chief and department head will be back this afternoon, won‟t they?
Hayakawa: True. (He stands up.) Well, all right. (He sips his coffee.) The vendor‟s
behind schedule. I told them we were out of copy paper. Might as well forget
getting any work done today.
Tomoyo: Whatever you say.
Hayakawa: Every so often someone named Murai comes by. You know who I mean?
They make him help with deliveries when they‟re shorthanded. Even if he‟s at the
bottom of the totem pole, he‟s still a regular employee. Just ordering him around
like that because he‟s new is fascist.
Tomoyo: I suppose.
Hayakawa: I‟ll take democracy any day. “Get going!” “Nope,I‟m going to sleep!” (He
sleeps.) He‟ll probably be the one making today‟s delivery, late as usual.
Tomoyo: It‟s not good to be late.
Hayakawa: You know him, right?
Tomoyo: Who?
Hayakawa: Murai.
Tomoyo: We‟re acquainted.
Hayakawa: He‟s the one who introduced you, isn‟t he? To your boyfriend.
Tomoyo: I don‟t know if you‟d call it an introduction.
Hayakawa: Is he handsome?
Tomoyo: Who?
Hayakawa: Your boyfriend.
Tomoyo: Hmmm.
Hayakawa: Who‟s better looking, him or Murai?
Tomoyo: I wouldn‟t consider Murai.
Hayakawa: What about me?
Tomoyo: Huh?
Hayakawa: Would you consider me?
Tomoyo: If you abandoned your wife and child.
Hayakawa: Consider them abandoned!
(Tomoyo is speechless. Hayakawa holds out the mask.)
Hayakawa: Want to try it?
Tomoyo: No, thank you.
Hayakawa: Come on. Try it. You‟ll like it.
Tomoyo: I won‟t like it.
Hayakawa: Really? (He puts the mask on.) See how much fun it is?
Hayakawa: You can dance. (He dances.)
Tomoyo: You didn‟t sleep last night..
(Hayakawa continues dancing. It bothers Tomoyo.)
Tomoyo: Mr. Hayakawa.
Hayakawa: You know,that‟s just it…(He sits.) Fireflies.
Tomoyo: Fireflies?
Hayakawa: At this time of year, too.
Tomoyo: There are no fireflies, not now.
Hayakawa: Yes, there are. There‟s one at my house.
Tomoyo: A pet firefly?
Hayakawa: That‟s right. On the verandah.
Tomoyo: Really?!
Hayakawa: I‟m talking about myself.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: Aren‟t you going to drink that?
Tomoyo: No.
Hayakawa: Go ahead and drink it.
(Tomoyo sips her coffee.)
Hayakawa: My wife and I aren‟t speaking.
Tomoyo: Hm.
Hayakawa: I don‟t know why. It happened all of a sudden. Talking got to be a pain. I was
first.
Tomoyo: Is that so?
Hayakawa: Then my wife got it. Smart answers. That's it around our house. One smart
answer after another. I started getting nervous, thinking this can't be good. I
wonder how long it's been now. Last night, I got desperate. So, I came on to her.
Hard. After all, it's the greatest way to communicate.
Tomoyo: Is it?
Hayakawa: It is. But, then she kicked me. She kicked me in the groin. Then she sashayed
into the kitchen, watching me writhing on the floor out of the corner of her eye.
She opened the refrigerator, and you know what she did?
Tomoyo: No.
Hayakawa: She opened a can of beer. Then you know what she did?
Tomoyo: She drank it?
Hayakawa: No. She sashayed again. You know where?
Tomoyo: No.
Hayakawa: Not to the toilet. She always pees before she goes to bed.
Tomoyo: I have no idea.
Hayakawa: Everything‟s by the book with her. This from a woman who used to be a
regular anarchist.
Tomoyo: I have no idea, really.
Hayakawa: She comes over.
Tomoyo: Okay.
Hayakawa: What do you think she did?
Tomoyo: She drank it?
Hayakawa: She poured it.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: The beer.
Tomoyo: Where?
Hayakawa: Where do you think?
Hayakawa: Not in the potted plant. People don‟t ordinarily put potted plants in their
bedrooms.
Tomoyo: Then I have no idea.
Hayakawa: She poured it on me.
Tomoyo: The beer?
Hayakawa: Yes, the beer. I didn‟t understand at first. I just thought my hair had gotten
awfully heavy. Then I felt this coolness on my scalp. I could smell it. There I
was, writhing, smelling beer. I could have wept. And here‟s this beer stinging my
eyes. My bed was soaked. I couldn‟t tell if it was tears or beer.
(Tomoyo is speechless.)
Hayakawa: When the pain in my groin finally subsided, there‟s my wife beside me, fast
asleep. I sit up in bed and stare at the back of her head. What should I do? What
would you do?
Hayakawa: Go ahead, say something. Anything.
Tomoyo: Go to sleep?
Hayakawa: I can‟t sleep. My hair is full of beer. It gets all hard and sticky when it dries,
that stuff.
Tomoyo: It does?
Hayakawa: You wouldn‟t know if you haven‟t had it poured all over you.
Tomoyo: I guess not.
Hayakawa: Let‟s say I decide to take a shower. The hotter the better. The hot water runs
down my cheeks. The beer in my eyes runs down. I‟m sobbing convulsively.
When I get out and looked in the mirror, my eyes are all bloodshot with tears and
beer. They‟re still red. Look.
Tomoyo: Really?
(Tomoyo brings her face close to Hayakawa’s.)
Hayakawa: Mwah! (He pretends to kiss her.)
(Although he didn’t really kiss her, Tomoyo reacts with surprise as she did before.
Hayakawa tries to sip his coffee, but the mask gets in the way.)
Hayakawa: Oops!
Hayakawa: I spent the whole night out on the verandah, smoking. Across the street,
there‟s another mansion just like ours. Eleven stories tall. There was another
firefly out on the seventh or eighth floor there, too. A sense of solidarity welled up
inside me, and I waved to him. And you know what he did?
Tomoyo: He waved back.
Hayakawa: Hey!
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: That‟s the first one you got right, Miss Iida. As your reward, I‟ll take you out
on a date this Sunday.
Tomoyo: A date?
Hayakawa: I was embarrassed. I purposely turned my back on him. After a while, I
looked around, and he waved at me again. I didn‟t know what to do, so I waved
back. He stopped waving. A few minutes went by, and then I waved again.
Slightly. He waved, too. Another few minutes passed, and this time. . . .
Tomoyo: Did this go on all night?
Hayakawa: By the time it got light, I was asleep on the verandah. He was gone.
Tomoyo: I see.
Hayakawa: You have nights when you can't sleep either, don't you?
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: I can tell.
Tomoyo: Well....
(Hayakawa drinks his coffee. He lifts the mask. Just a little.)
Hayakawa: What‟s that? (He rises and moves toward the exit.) I thought I heard
something. (He removes the mask and hides it in his pocket.) Drink up.
Tomoyo: All right.
Hayakawa: Hurry.
Tomoyo: How come?
Hayakawa: Never mind, just do it.‟
(Hayakawa is concerned about what’s going on outside. Tomoyo drinks.)
Hayakawa: He‟s back, the section chief. What‟s he doing back?
(Tomoyo drinks.)
Hayakawa: You idiot, Murai. Where‟s the goddamn copy paper! I‟m going to catch it for
this!
(Tomoyo drains her cup. She hands it to Hayakawa who starts to leave. )
Hayakawa: Your prize.
Tomoyo: Huh?
Hayakawa: Sunday. Eleven a.m. Where shall we go?
Tomoyo: Sunday?
Hayakawa: How about the ocean? Or the mountains. Remind me of the nearest station to
your place, Miss Iida.
Tomoyo: Umegaoka.
Hayakawa: I‟ll meet you there. Is there only one exit?
Tomoyo: Yes.
Hayakawa: Eleven, right?
Tomoyo: All right, Mr. Hayakawa.
Hayakawa: Did you have plans?
Tomoyo: Not particularly, but. . . .
Hayakawa: In that case. . . .
(Hayakawa exits. Tomoyo remains standing.)
Tomoyo: Excuse me. . . . (She sits. The papers are all rolled up. She spreads them out.
Slowly, the papers roll up again. Hayakawa returns.)
Hayakawa: Miss Iida?
Tomoyo: Yes?
(Hayakawa waves to Tomoyo.)
Tomoyo: Huh?
(Hayakawa puts the mask on. He waves to Tomoyo. She says nothing but waves
back. It gradually becomes unclear to whom Hayakawa is waving.
Standing center stage is Nakagawa, who is also waving. The lights come up on
the space he occupies, and the workplace goes dark.)
(Husband enters. He is standing. With his flashlight inside his shirt, he is

watching Nakagawa waving. Soon, the entire stage, including Nakagawa’s room,
goes dark. All the light that remains is Husband’s flashlight going on and off
inside his shirt.
Wife enters. In sympathy with her husband, she also turns the flashlight inside her
blouse on and off. )
Wife: That‟s not the way.
Wife: They light up more gently and go out more gently, too, fireflies do.
Wife: Of course. Not like this.
Husband: Okay.
Wife (after a pause): Let‟s go home.
Husband: Okay.
(Husband and Wife crouch down on their haunches. The lights in their shirts go
on and off. As Nakagawa’s room is illuminated, their flickering stops.
Nakagawa is standing. He is finished waving, it seems.)
Scene 7: Morning in Nakagawa’s Room
(Murai, who has been sleeping, awakes.)
Murai: Mmmm.
Nakagawa: Aaaah.
Murai: What‟re you doing?
Nakagawa: You know.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: Nothing.
Murai: There you go again.
Nakagawa: Nothing, I said.
Murai: Not that it matters. (He checks his watch.) Uh-oh! (He gets up.) My God! Look
at the hour! (He rushes to the kitchen.)
Nakagawa: Set the alarm, will you! (He lies down and tries to go catch a few more winks
of sleep.)
Murai‟s Voice: Nakagawa! Nakagawa! (He enters. His face is wet.) Nakagawa!
Murai: Towel! Where‟s the towel?
Nakagawa: Here. (He hands him any old piece of cloth lying on the ground.)
(Murai takes it and exits.)
Murai‟s Voice: I‟ve been late before, but this is ridiculous! Hey, this stinks! (He enters.)
Murai: You idiot, Nakagawa!
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: It stinks, you jerk! (He throws the cloth back at Nakagawa and exits.)
Nakagawa: It‟s my undershirt.
Murai‟s Voice: Your rotten sweat smells like acid.
Nakagawa: Sulphuric?
Murai: Acetic.
Nakagawa (smelling the shirt): It‟s vinegar. That‟s all.
(There is a knock at the door. Twice, three times.)
Nakagawa: I‟ll get it.
(Nakagawa exits. He holds the shirt to his chest. Murai enters.)
Murai: Necktie. Necktie.
(As he searches through his briefcase, Nakagawa enters.)
Murai: If I put on a tie and run, I‟ll get all sweaty. . . .
Nakagawa: …but I have somebody here.
Murai: Huh?
(In fact, there is a young woman 〔Megumi〕 already standing there.)
Murai: I. . . .
Megumi: Hello.
Murai (pausing): Hello.
Megumi: Sorry to barge in.
Murai: Not at all.
(Megumi sits.)
Murai: Who is she?
Nakagawa: Miss Ishii Megumi.
Murai: Oh.
Megumi: Please put on some clothes.
Murai: What?
Megumi: Clothes.
(Megumi exits. To the kitchen. Murai gets dressed in a panic.)
Murai: You jerk!
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: Get dressed, you jerk!
Nakagawa: It doesn‟t matter.
Murai: Of course it matters, you jerk!
(Nakagawa is silent. He begins getting dressed.)
Murai: Who is she?
Nakagawa: I told you, Ishii Megumi.
Murai: I mean, who is she to you?
Nakagawa: Well. . . .
Megumi: I‟m his student.
Murai (startled): Whah!
(Megumi has been standing there carrying three glasses.)
Murai: Your student?
Megumi: You‟re indecent.
Murai: Huh?
(Megumi exits to the kitchen.)
Murai: See, you jerk!
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: She‟s got me all wrong. It‟s your fault.
Nakagawa: My fault?
Murai: Goddamn it. I‟m late as it is, and. . . .
Nakagawa: So go already.
Murai: How can I go?
Nakagawa: Why not?
Murai: I have to fix this misunderstanding first.
Nakagawa: It doesn‟t matter.
Murai: It does matter.
Nakagawa: No,it doesn‟t.
Murai: Yes,it does. It matters to me.
Nakagawa: It„s all right, really.
Murai: No,it isn‟t ,really.
Megumi: It‟s all right,really it is.
Murai (startled): Whah!
(Megumi has entered, carrying a bottle of juice. )
Murai: What‟s all right?
Megumi: I know Mr. Nakagawa belongs to the majority. So it‟s all right.
Murai: The majority?
Megumi: Heterosexuals.
Murai: Oh.
(Megumi pours juice into the glasses.)
Murai: She‟s your student?
Nakagawa: Of German.
Murai: German?
Nakagawa: She asked me to teach her.
Murai: German? You?
Nakagawa: Don‟t look at me. She said she wanted me to teach her.
Murai: Really?
Megumi: I go to junior college, so we don‟t study a foreign language besides English. It‟s
boring.
Murai: I see.
Megumi: My mother told me I should study one, too, so. . . . And it‟s a nice side job for
Mr. Nakagawa. . . .
Murai: So you‟re teaching her German?
Nakagawa: I know some German. I know the past tense.
Murai: Is there a past tense in German?
Nakagawa: Sure.
Murai: Ein, zwei, drei.
Nakagawa: That‟s not the past tense.
Megumi: Help yourself.
Murai: Oh.
(Megumi drinks her juice.)
Megumi: Lukewarm.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: The juice.
(Nakagawa doesn’t say anything.)
Megumi: But not much better cold, is it, this juice?
Nakagawa: Don‟t complain about other people‟s juice.
Megumi: It‟s mine.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: Mine.
Nakagawa: What?
Megumi: I bought it and put it in there. In the refrigerator.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: You did?
Megumi: Yes, I did.
Murai: She did?
Megumi: I did. So I can complain all I want. It‟s warm, this juice, completely warm.
Nakagawa: What the hell?
Murai: Did she really?
Nakagawa: What‟s wrong with you?
Megumi: What?
Nakagawa: Never mind.
Murai: Strange. . . .
Murai: It is warm.
Nakagawa: So, what‟s up?
Megumi: Not much.
Megumi: What do you mean, what‟s that supposed to mean? I just felt like dropping by,
that‟s all. Can‟t I drop by without something being up?
Nakagawa: What?
Megumi: Is that what you‟re saying?
Nakagawa: No, but. . . .
Megumi: I‟m just happy to see my teacher. Very happy. You‟re happy to see me, aren‟t
you?
Nakagawa: I suppose. . . .
Megumi: See? (She drinks her juice.) I could hear a piano on my way over here.
Nakagawa: You could?
Megumi: Mahler. Not a piece for summer.
Nakagawa: Mahler's not for summer?
Megumi: No. definitely not. But most piano music is not for summer, you know? You
can‟t play without getting all sticky and sweaty.
Murai: Do you play the piano?
Megumi: I‟ve been playing since I was four.
Murai: That‟s fantastic.
Megumi: No, it‟s not. Not at all. I have these short little fingers, so I‟m no good. See?
(Megumi spreads her fingers out for Murai. Murai says nothing. He becomes
agitated.)
Nakagawa: Hey.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: You all right? Time-wise.
Murai: Oh, uh. . . .
Nakagawa: Well?
Murai: Yeah. . . .
Megumi: And then. . . .
Murai: Yes?
Megumi: The dog barks：
Murai: The dog?
Megumi: Keeping time with the piano. Their dog. It barks.
Nakagawa: Really.
Megumi: Makes the heat even worse. Definitely not for summer.
Nakagawa: I see.
Megumi: I hate dogs.
Nakagawa: Hm.
Megumi: But I like cats.
Nakagawa: I see.
Megumi: Dogs are happy when you take them for a walk. They‟re chained up all day, but
if you take them for a walk, they‟re happy just to doze off and don‟t even feel they
have to bark at the postman. They wile away their whole life like that. They take
a walk in the morning, sleep all day, sleep all evening, sleep all night, take a walk
in the morning, sleep all day, sleep all evening, sleep all night, take a walk in the
morning, sleep all day, sleep all evening, sleep all night, take a walk in the
morning. . . .
Nakagawa: So?
Megumi: So I hate them.
Nakagawa: Oh.
Megumi: But I like cats.
Nakagawa: Really?
Megumi: Please come over today.
Nakagawa: Today?
Megumi: To pet our cat.
Nakagawa: Why?
Megumi: Because I like cats, of course. You like cats, too, don‟t you?
Nakagawa: I do?
Megumi: I‟ll go home and wait for you.
Nakagawa: Not today.
Megumi: Are you busy?
Nakagawa: I‟m not busy, but. . . .
Megumi: In that case, my mom will be waiting, too.
Nakagawa: Oh, well, I. . . .
(Megumi takes her glass and the juice to the kitchen. Murai says nothing.)
Nakagawa: Hey.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: The time?
Murai: I‟m okay.
Nakagawa: Okay?
Murai: I mean, look. . . .
Nakagawa: What?
(Murai doesn’t answer.)
Nakagawa: What?
(Murai still doesn’t answer. Megumi appears.)
Megumi: This room‟s too hot anyway. (She starts to leave.)
Murai: What about horses?
Megumi: What?
Murai: Do you like horses?
Megumi (pausing): No. (She exits.)
Nakagawa: What‟s this about horses?
Murai: She says she doesn‟t like them.
Nakagawa: I know that much.
Murai: Oh.
(Murai drinks his juice. He looks in the direction Megumi has left.)
Murai: Fat.
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: Fat.
Nakagawa: Yeah, she is.
Murai: Hm.
Nakagawa: What?
Murai: Nothing. I was just thinking about how fat she is.
Nakagawa: She‟s not that fat. All junior college girls are like that.
Murai: Are junior college girls all fat?
Nakagawa: How would I know?
Murai: If they‟re not fat, they‟re not junior college girls?
Nakagawa: I said, I don‟t know.
Murai: There are all kinds of girls in junior college. Different categories. Fat ones and
thin ones, tall ones and short ones, yellow ones and purple ones, navy blue and
crimson ones.
Nakagawa: What‟s all that?
Murai: Categories.
Nakagawa: Navy blue junior college girls?
Murai: They‟re junior college girls. “I‟m a junior college girl. But I‟m navy blue!” See?
“I‟m a junior college girl. And I‟m crimson!” See?
Nakagawa: No.
(Murai lies face down on the floor. He swims.)
Murai: I‟m a white collar worker. So I‟m yellow.
(Nakagawa is silent. Murai gets up.)
Murai: I haven‟t been this excited in a long while.
Nakagawa: Really?
Murai: What happened?
Nakagawa: About what?
Murai: How‟d you meet her?
Nakagawa: At the student bazaar. I was working at an underclassman‟s booth, and she
was a customer.
Murai: What a cushy life.
Nakagawa: Apparently.
Murai: I‟m talking about you. Can you afford it? I mean, you‟re a year behind as it is.
Nakagawa: Yeah, it is a cushy life. There aren‟t many more classes I have to take anyhow.
Murai: You‟re a real piece of work. Your parents must be going nuts.
Nakagawa: I‟m doing what I‟m supposed to.
Murai: You looking for a job?
(Murai starts to remove his clothes.)
Nakagawa: Hey! Hey!
Murai: Hm?
Nakagawa: Look at the time! What about work?
Murai (imitating Megumi): This room‟s too hot anyway.
Nakagawa: It‟s this big house. She says her parents love each other. They like dogs and
hate cats. They like the piano and hate the violin. They like cake and don‟t like
pickles. She‟s just a simple girl from a good family.
Murai: Probably is.
Nakagawa: But in fact she‟s not.
Murai: No?
Nakagawa: Her mother‟s after me.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: It‟s the truth.
Murai: Holy smokes!
Nakagawa: Yeah.
(Both men are silent.)
Murai: Navy blue.
Nakagawa: Huh?
(Murai lies face down on the floor.)
Murai: I‟m yellow.
(Nakagawa says nothing. He drinks his juice. Murai gets up on the table. He
whinnies and snorts like a horse.)
Nakagawa: What are you doing?
Murai: Fat is good.
Nakagawa: Yeah.
Nakagawa: And navy blue. Things are complicated.
(Nakagawa does not respond.)
Murai: I‟m talking about you. (He laughs.) This is great!
Nakagawa: Take it easy!
Murai: You take it easy!
Nakagawa: I‟m fine.
Murai: What?
Nakagawa: She‟s not my type.
Murai: You‟re navy blue.
Nakagawa: Huh?
(Murai whinnies like a horse. Nakagawa drinks his juice and looks up at him.
Black out.)
Scene 8: A Coffee Shop in Front of Umegaoka Station
(Tomoyo and Hayakawa are sitting across from each other. In front of Tomoyo is
a cup of coffee; a large glass of banana juice sits before Hayakawa. Hayakawa is
grinning; Tomoyo appears uncomfortable.)
Hayakawa: You really came.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: And five minutes early, too!
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: And you‟re all dressed up! (He sips his juice.)
Tomoyo: Of course I came.
Hayakawa: Why?
Tomoyo: What do you mean, why?
Hayakawa: I mean, I wonder why you came.
Tomoyo: What else was there to do?
Hayakawa: Is that right?
Tomoyo: What do you mean, is that right?
Hayakawa: I don‟t know. I just didn‟t think you were coming.
Tomoyo (drinking her coffee): Shall I go home?
Hayakawa: You don‟t have to go home.
Tomoyo: Did you come even though you thought I wasn‟t coming?
Hayakawa: Yes.
Tomoyo: If I hadn‟t come, what would you have done?
Hayakawa: If you hadn‟t come I would have thought: you see, she didn‟t come.
Tomoyo: And what would you have done while you were thinking that?
Hayakawa: I just would have thought it.
Tomoyo: That‟s no answer.
Hayakawa: It would have been the same as always. I would have dropped into a coffee
shop in front of some station and sat there watching the girls as I usually do.
Tomoyo: Is that what you usually do?
Hayakawa: Yes.
Tomoyo: On Sundays? Always?
Hayakawa: I guess so.
Tomoyo: Do you enjoy it?
Hayakawa: No.
Tomoyo: ....But, here you are again, doing the same thing.
Hayakawa: I guess. I‟ve dropped into a coffee shop in front of some station, and I‟m
sitting here watching the girls. Only this time, one of the girls is sitting right in
front of me. I‟m watching her close up.
Tomoyo: And you‟re not enjoying it.
Hayakawa: On the contrary. Today, I‟m enjoying myself.
Tomoyo: Is that so?
Hayakawa: Absolutely. I‟m delighted. See? (Hayakawa puts his hand in his suit pocket
and begins to flutter it like a bird.)
Tomoyo: I get the point.
(Hayakawa does not stop. He is so much into his demonstration that he is half
standing.)
Tomoyo: You‟re going to spill your juice.
Hayakawa (continuing): See how happy I am?
Tomoyo: Mr. Hayakawa.
Hayakawa (no longer fluttering): What about you?
Tomoyo: Yes?
Hayakawa: Are you happy?
(Tomoyo does not answer. She drinks her coffee.)
Hayakawa: You‟re not.
Tomoyo: Why are you wearing a suit?
Hayakawa: No reason.
Tomoyo: It‟s a weekend. You should relax.
Hayakawa: It‟s a pain.
Tomoyo: A pain?
Hayakawa: Relaxing‟s a pain.
Tomoyo: Okay.
Hayakawa: Relaxing confuses me. And there‟s too much responsibility. I have to think
about which clothes are going to make me look presentable. I feel so
heavyhearted. It takes moral fortitude. I can‟t relax. With this uniform, see, I can
be irresponsible.
Tomoyo: That‟s ridiculous.
Hayakawa: you‟re one big walking sense of responsibility.
Tomoyo: I am?
Hayakawa: Your dress. (Feeling happy again, he begins fluttering.)
Tomoyo: Aren‟t we going somewhere?
Hayakawa: I changed my mind.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: Let‟s talk right here.
Tomoyo: You said we were going to the ocean or the mountains.
Hayakawa: It's a pain.
Tomoyo: There you go again.
Hayakawa: It's just a pain. Let‟s spend the whole day right here.
Tomoyo: Here?
Hayakawa: If we‟re here, I‟m not responsible.
Tomoyo: You feel responsible at the ocean or the mountains?
Hayakawa: Of course. Look. We‟re at the sea! It‟s this overtly pleasant environment, and
so I feel responsible for having an overtly good time. If I don‟t, people will
wonder what‟s wrong with me.
Tomoyo: Will they?
Hayakawa: We‟re fine right here. See? There‟s no way a person could have a good time
in a place like this.
Tomoyo: But not all day.
Hayakawa: Drink three cups of coffee, and you can spend five hours here. I know from
experience.
Tomoyo: So we‟ll be here all day?
Hayakawa: The banana juice is watery, too. See?
Tomoyo: No, thank you.
Hayakawa: You want to try some?
Tomoyo: I said, no thank you.
Hayakawa: Go ahead, have some. It‟s really watery.
Tomoyo: I don‟t want any. You said it‟s no good.
Hayakawa: No, it‟s not.
Tomoyo: Then why are you offering it to me?
Hayakawa: Because for juice to be this unappetizing is really something.
Tomoyo: All the more reason not to try it.
Hayakawa: You don‟t know what you‟re missing. (He drinks his juice.)
Tomoyo: The air conditioning‟s on awfully strong in here.
Hayakawa: We‟re right in front of the station—they want to speed up the turn-over.
Tomoyo: I‟m cold.
Hayakawa: You have to dress warmer than that.
Tomoyo: What?
(Hayakawa pulls the lapels of his jacket together.)
Tomoyo: I don‟t have anything to talk about.
Hayakawa: Neither do I.
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Hayakawa: How about talking about the office?
Tomoyo: Please! It‟s my day off.
Hayakawa: Then you come up with something.
Tomoyo: Why?
Hayakawa: I thought you wanted to have a conversation.
Tomoyo: I don‟t care.
Hayakawa: Shall we read a book, then? Or a magazine? They have some magazines here.
Tomoyo: No, thank you. Why do we have to come all the way to a coffee shop to read
magazines?
Hayakawa: Because they have them here.
Tomoyo: Just because they have them, doesn‟t mean we have to read them, does it?
Hayakawa: The fact that we don‟t have to is what‟s good about it. There‟s no
responsibility at all.
Tomoyo: I see. (She bunches up the front of her outfit for warmth.)
Hayakawa: See, we‟re conversing.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: Conversing. We‟re having a conversation.
Tomoyo: I suppose so. . . .
Hayakawa: This is nice, isn‟t it? Just the two of us. We must look like lovers who have
just started going out.
Tomoyo: We do? (She clutches her outfit in the front.)
Hayakawa: I really like you.
Tomoyo: Thank you.
Hayakawa: See!
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: We‟re lovers.
(Tomoyo does not respond. She drinks her coffee.)
Tomoyo: What do you like about me.
Hayakawa: Hm. Good question. Creates an ambiance.
Tomoyo: Oh?
Hayakawa: Your face.
Tomoyo: My face?
Hayakawa: I like your face.
Tomoyo: My face.
Hayakawa: Your eyes. You can‟t tell whether they‟re open or shut. I like them.
Tomoyo: You do?
Hayakawa: I‟d like you better if your hair were long.
Tomoyo (pausing): You would?
Hayakawa: It‟d be perfect if it were long enough to run your fingers through it.
Hayakawa: Shall we kiss?
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: Let‟s kiss.
Tomoyo: Why?
Hayakawa: Because I really like you.
Tomoyo: Where?
Hayakawa: Anywhere. How about here?
Tomoyo: No!
Hayakawa: Then shall we go somewhere else?
Tomoyo: That‟s not the point.
Hayakawa: But I want to kiss you. It‟s the truth.
Tomoyo: What is?
Hayakawa: That I really like you.
Tomoyo: What about your wife, Mr. Hayakawa?
Hayakawa: A pain.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Hayakawa (drinking Tomoyo’s coffee): There must a hole in our hearts.
Tomoyo: What?
Hayakawa: In your heart, Miss Iida.
Tomoyo: Oh?
Hayakawa: And in mine. And in the hearts of everyone at the office. And everyone in this
coffee shop. And everyone in the world.
Tomoyo: You think so?
Hayakawa: Absolutely. An emptiness. You‟re floundering around, trying to fill that
vacuum. My wife is too. But not me.
Tomoyo: No?
Hayakawa: It‟s just a pain. I‟ve decided not to be responsible.
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Hayakawa: Drink up.
Tomoyo: All right. (She drinks her coffee.)
Hayakawa: Indirect kiss!
Tomoyo: Oh!
(Hayakawa gets to his feet.)
Tomoyo: What are you doing?
Hayakawa: I‟m going to the john. We‟ll be here a while.
Tomoyo: All right.
Hayakawa: Eventually we‟ll kiss for real. I‟m sure of it.
Tomoyo: We will?
Hayakawa: And we‟ll go to a love hotel. A room with this really gaudy chandelier.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Hayakawa: Aren‟t you going to ask me why?
Tomoyo: Why?
Hayakawa: Because you‟ll get to really like me, too.
(Hayakawa exits, his suit fluttering like a bird.)
Tomoyo: If my hair were long. . . .
(Tomoyo starts to run her fingers through her hair. But halfway through she
realizes what she’s doing and stops. She drinks her coffee. But she also feels
uncomfortable doing that and stops. There is nothing for her to do but sit there,
feeling out of place. Blackout.)
Scene 9: The Same Coffee Shop in Front of Umegaoka Station a Few Hours
Later
(Murai and Megumi are standing with a table between them.)

Murai: Hi!
(Megumi says nothing.)
Murai: Thanks for coming.
(Megumi is silent.)
Murai: Coffee, right? Or would you like something to eat?
(Megumi is still unresponsive.)
Murai: I‟m having banana juice. It‟s awful. The stuff they serve here‟s particularly bad.
It‟s famous. Would you like to try some? How about it?
(Megumi does not answer.)
Murai: I see. . . .
(Murai approaches Megumi and pulls her chair out, offering her a seat. Megumi
does not respond. She does not sit. Murai is at a loss. He wilts, his hands still on
the back of the chair.)
Murai: Oh, uh. Coffee, please.
(A waiter has asked for his order. Apparently the waiter has been watching the
two of them standing there and has now left. Murai doesn’t know what to do. He
feels the eyes of the other patrons upon him and returns to his seat for lack of a
better alternative. Megumi remains standing.)
Murai: Have a seat, please, sit down.
(Megumi doesn’t move.)
Murai: Please, I‟m asking you.
Megumi: What is it today?
Murai: What?
Megumi: Why did you want to see me?
Murai: Oh, well, in any event, please sit down and let me explain.
Megumi: I‟m not sitting down until you tell me.
Murai: What?
(Megumi remains standing.)
Murai: It‟s, er, about your lessons. German. The way you‟re going about it, I was
thinking. . . . Perhaps I should teach you.
(Megumi sits.)
Murai: Actually, that‟s not it, but. . . .
Megumi: Is this your treat?
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: Or are we going dutch here? It makes me uncomfortable if I don‟t know in
advance.
Murai: Oh.
Megumi: Which is it?
Murai: Sure.
Megumi: Who?
Murai: I will.
Megumi: Thank you.
Murai: Not at all. Thank you.
Megumi: What?
Murai: What?
(Megumi stirs Murai’s juice with the straw.)
Megumi: Which method do you use?
Murai: What? Oh, well. . . . (He sips his juice. It is watery and tasteless.) I don‟t know
whether you‟d call it a method exactly, but I used to enjoy studying German, so I
thought I‟d share some of my experiences with you, that sort of thing.
Megumi: That won‟t be necessary.
Murai: What?
Megumi: I‟m not really studying.
Murai: You‟re not?
Megumi: I don‟t have to. I can already speak. I lived in Germany when I was little.
Murai: Is that right?
Megumi: Every so often my friends still come to Japan. They come to discuss their
problems.
Murai: Their problems? Germans do?
Megumi: Detrich, Katherina, people like that.
Murai: Detrich?
Megumi: Detrich‟s majoring in organic chemistry. Sometimes I don‟t understand the
vocabulary he uses, but otherwise. . . .
Murai: I see.
Megumi: Do you like German?
Murai: Well, not exactly. . . .
Megumi: How long have you been studying?
Murai: Let me see. In college, two years, I guess, for general education. No, actually, I
dropped the course once, so three years.
Megumi: You dropped it?
Murai: First-year.
Megumi: Is that so?
Megumi: What sort of experiences were you going to share with me?
Murai: Never mind.
Megumi: But that‟s what you wanted to see me about, isn‟t it?
Murai: It‟s okay, really.
Megumi: Tell me.
Murai: That you can get away without knowing much grammar. That sort of thing.
Megumi: What else?
Murai: That language is really a matter of how much vocabulary you know. Things like
that.
Megumi: I see.
Murai: That‟s what I was going to tell you. . . .
Megumi: Yes?
Murai: But I changed my mind.
Megumi: But you‟re right, you know.
Murai: I am?
Megumi: Absolutely. How many Germans do you suppose are aware that they‟re using
the past-perfect subjunctive?
Murai: I guess you‟re right.
Megumi: Of course I‟m right. Your experience is right on target.
Murai: Experience gained from failure.
Megumi: I‟ll pay you for the lesson.
Murai: Lesson?
Megumi: You taught me, so I‟ll pay you.
Murai: What for?
Megumi: You just taught me an important lesson, didn‟t you?
Murai: I didn‟t teach you.
Megumi: You came all the way over here just for that, didn‟t you? You went out of your
way to invite me. I have to express my appreciation.
Murai: I just thought it would be nice if we could chat, that‟s all.
Megumi: Really? Is that all?
Murai: Well.
Megumi: Oh.
(Murai is at a loss. He stirs his juice. Megumi watches him intently.)
Megumi: I like watching people.
Murai: Huh? (He stops stirring.)
Megumi: They‟re funny.
Murai: Funny?
Megumi: People are funny when they‟re fretting.
Murai: Fretting?
Megumi: You can smell it on them.
Murai: Smell? (He sniffs his armpits.)
Megumi: I‟m talking about Mr. Nakagawa.
Murai: You are?
Megumi: Yes.
Murai: Nakagawa?
Megumi: You thought I was talking about you.
Murai: No, I didn‟t.
Megumi: Go ahead. You‟re right.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: You‟re funny, too, Mr. Murai. You have the same scent as Mr. Nakagawa.
Murai: I do?
Megumi (drinking the banana juice): Hey, this is awful!
(Murai says nothing.)
Megumi: This is fantastic. Really. It‟s so watery!
(Murai is silent.)
Megumi: And it smells of chlorine. Here. Try it.
Murai: Not mister.
Megumi: Aren‟t you going to drink it?
Murai: Just call me Murai.
Megumi: I‟m going to finish it.
(Murai drinks.)
Megumi: Sometimes I get so mad at the smell I just kick him.
Murai: You kick Nakagawa?
Megumi: No, the dog. I have a dog. The dog who spends his entire life sitting in the
entranceway waiting to go for a walk. The entranceway‟s got a radius of two
meters, and the whole thing stinks of him.
Murai: I‟ll bet he bites.
Megumi: No, he doesn‟t. He just allows himself to be kicked.
Murai: Really?
Megumi: Human beings fret while they‟re waiting, don‟t they, even though it doesn‟t do
them any good. Sleep all day, sleep all night, go for a walk in the morning—they
repeat the pattern eternally. Fretting doesn‟t change anything. It‟s ridiculous.
(She stands up.)
Murai: What are you doing?
Megumi: We‟re done aren‟t we?
Murai: No . . . I mean. . . .
Megumi: We even made small talk.
Murai: Well, yes, but. . . .
Megumi: Actually, I think I will pay here. For myself, that is. (She starts to take money
from her wallet.)
Murai: That‟s not it, though. That‟s not really what I wanted to say.
Megumi: Oh?
Murai: What I really wanted was something else.
Megumi: What?
Murai: Well, you see, actually. . . .
Megumi: See, you‟re fretting.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: You are.
Megumi: Yuck!
Murai: I want you to come back to my room with me.
Megumi: Room.
Murai: My room.
Megumi: Why?
Murai: I don‟t know. I don‟t want you to leave.
Megumi: Why?
Murai: I want you to stay over. Don‟t ask me why.
Megumi (pausing): Will you pay for a lesson?
Murai: I can‟t.
Megumi: Well, that was straight answer.
Murai: I suppose.
(Megumi stirs Murai’s juice with the straw.)
Megumi: He bit me once.
Murai: Nakagawa did?
Megumi: No, the dog, silly. It left a scar . . . on my leg. Want to see?
Murai: Where?
Megumi: On my thigh, toward the top.
Murai: Hm?
Megumi: Look. (She reveals her thigh.)
Murai: I don‟t bite.
Megumi: Is that so?
Murai: I don‟t have to. And what‟s so funny about fretting?
Megumi: It just is, that‟s all.
Murai: No, it‟s not. Come on, let‟s fret together.
Megumi: Huh?
Murai: I want you with me so badly I can taste it. No reason. Is that ridiculous?
(Megumi does not answer. She covers her thigh.)
Megumi: You heard what he said. About my mother.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: That‟s not the whole of it. She‟s gone after other men.
Murai: I haven‟t heard anything.
Megumi: She brings them home when I‟m not there. My father‟s really my stepfather, and
he‟s got eyes for his daughter, and the whole situation‟s very complicated. I‟m a
sad little waif.
Murai: When you say daughter, you mean yourself?
Megumi: Yes. But it‟s a pattern, and I‟ll probably repeat it. And my children will repeat
it. In our little space with a two meter radius we‟ll repeat it eternally.
Murai (pausing): Hmm.
Megumi: The chair.
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: I want you to do what you did before with the chair.
Murai: Oh.
Megumi: It made me feel good when you did that.
(Without answering, Murai returns her chair to its original position.)
Murai: My room‟s air conditioned.
(Megumi stares at Murai. Blackout.)
(The couple have their flashlights inside their shirts and are switching them on
and off. It is a little later and lighter than before.)
Wife: My hand‟s tired.
Husband: Mine, too.
Wife: There aren‟t any here after all.
Husband: I guess not.
Wife: The sun will be up soon.
(Husband says nothing. Tomoyo walks by. She realizes that the couple are there
and stops.)
Husband: Hey, here‟s one.
Wife: Where?
Husband: Here.
(Husband is talking about the flashlight he has turned on under his shirt.
Wife has had enough. She extinguishes her light. Her eyes meet Tomoyo’s. They
acknowledge one another.)
Wife: I‟ll bet your bottom‟s cold.
Husband: I told you, I‟m fine.
(Tomoyo crouches down a little way off.)
Wife: Out for a walk?
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: It‟s nice and cool in the morning.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: As they say, the early bird gets the worm.
(Wife once again joins Husband in turning her light on and off.)
Wife: My bottom‟s cold.
Husband: You‟re fine.
Wife: I‟m going to get the runs.
Husband: You‟re all right, I said. You‟ve got a cast iron stomach.
Wife: I do not.
Husband: You could eat radiation, and it wouldn‟t faze you.
Wife: Yes, it would.
Husband: You could eat nuclear waste, and you‟d digest it.
Wife: I would not digest it. I‟m a human being. What about yours?
Husband: Mine‟s like a plastic bag.
Wife: That‟s appetizing.
Husband: Fill it with garbage and it rots. But it never disintegrates completely. My
stomach will last forever, all slippery and slimy. Even after I‟m dead and gone.
Because it‟s plastic.
Wife: That‟s fantastic.
Wife: It‟s terrific.
Husband: A plastic bag?
Wife: It‟s better than cast iron. But cast iron would last forever, too, wouldn‟t it?
Husband: No, cast iron would rust.
Wife: Of course.
Husband: It would rust and crack and crumble and turn to dust. Back to nature. That‟s
why nuclear waste would spill out in no time flat and spread all over the place. A
cast iron stomach would abandon its contents and just disappear. What a peaceful
way to go. But not a plastic bag. Plastic‟s a synthetic, that‟s why. It was made to
last, so it just lies there slippery and slimy, causing trouble for everybody.
Wife: That sounds terrible!
Husband: I think it would be better to just go in peace.
Wife: But I don‟t want to go all by myself.
Husband: I suppose not.
Wife: I want you to go with me. Let‟s go together. Let‟s both go in peace.
Husband: Yeah. That‟s a better idea.
Wife: It is a better idea. I‟d much prefer to be together.
Husband: I see your point. But it may not work out that way. Because I‟m a plastic bag.
Wife: Are you?
Husband: I am.
Wife: That‟s a shame.
Husband: There‟s nothing we can do about it.
(Their flashlights are flashing on and off.)
Tomoyo: What are you looking at?
Wife: What?
Tomoyo: You‟re looking at something, aren‟t you?
Wife: No. I‟m not looking at anything.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Wife: I‟m looking for something.
Tomoyo: What?
Wife: Nothing really.
Husband: They‟re not nothing.
Wife: That‟s not what I meant.
Husband: You just said so. Just now.
Wife: But it‟s not what I meant.
Tomoyo: What is it you‟re looking for?
Wife: No, it‟s nothing really.
Husband: See, there you said it again.
(Wife is silent.)
Tomoyo: What is it?
Husband: Fireflies.
Tomoyo: Fireflies?
Husband: That‟s right.
Tomoyo: Are there any around at this time of year?
Wife: That‟s what I said, we‟re looking for nothing really.
(This time, Husband is silent.)
Wife: And it even rained, too.
Husband: It doesn‟t matter. There‟s one right here.
Tomoyo: Where?
(Husband doesn’t answer. )
Wife (extinguishing her flashlight): He‟s talking about this.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Wife: This is what he means by a firefly.
(Wife hands Tomoyo her flashlight. Tomoyo turns it on and off. )
Wife: Not like that. Fireflies don‟t act like that. They light up more gently and go out
more gently. See?
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: Sometimes we can‟t get to sleep, you see.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: There‟s nothing else to do, so we take a walk. Like this.
Tomoyo: Don‟t you have to work tomorrow?
Wife: He quits. My child died, so. . . .
Husband: Hey, cut it out!
Wife: What difference does it make? She doesn‟t mind.
Husband: Sorry to impose.
Tomoyo: That‟s all right.
Wife: My child died, you see. And my husband here wouldn‟t stop crying, so he couldn‟t
sleep, and he lost most job. I was lying there right next to him, so I couldn‟t sleep.
But things worked out all right in the end.
Husband: They did?
Wife: We became friends, didn‟t we? After our child died.
Husband: Did we?
Wife: We talk a lot more now.
Husband: We‟re just wandering around, that‟s all.
Wife: What‟s wrong with wandering around? You‟re much more handsome than you used
to be. I like you a lot better now.
Husband: Cut it out.
Wife: Oh, come on. Let her hear.
Husband: I‟m sorry. . . .
Wife: It‟s the truth. All of it.
Husband: What would be the point of making something like that up?
Wife: That‟s what I said, it‟s the truth.
Husband: Just because it‟s the truth, you don‟t have to recite the whole story.
Wife: What difference does it make if I tell the whole story. It‟s all true.
Husband: But it‟s an imposition, to have to listen to all of that.
Wife: Oh! Am I imposing? Do you feel imposed upon?
Tomoyo: Not at all.
Wife: See, she said it‟s not an imposition.
Husband: All right, never mind.
Wife: He‟s embarrassed. Still. I think its wonderful. I like that about him.
Husband: I‟m really sorry.
Tomoyo: Don‟t mention it.
Wife: You try it.
Tomoyo: What?
Wife: Being a firefly. See?
Tomoyo: All right.
Wife: Like this.
(Wife takes Tomoyo’s hand and shows her how to insert the flashlight under her
blouse. )
Wife: Turn it on . . . now, turn it off. Follow his lead.
Tomoyo: All right. (She turns it on, then off.)
Wife: Dear, look.
Husband: What?
Wife: She‟s very good. Better than me.
Husband: You‟re right.
Wife: It‟s nice. That you could be here with us.
Husband: Yes. Thank you.
Tomoyo: Not at all. Don‟t mention it.
Wife: Dear, what should I do?
Husband: About what?
Wife: I just feel so happy.
Husband: Indeed.
Wife: I know, let‟s be friends!
Tomoyo: What?
Husband: That‟s a good idea.
Tomoyo: What?
Wife: Please be our friend.
Tomoyo: Friends?
Wife: With us.
Tomoyo: Well. . . .
(Wife is silent. At some point, the flashing has ceased.)
Husband: See, we‟re imposing on her.
Tomoyo: No, that‟s not it.
Wife: Do you think so?
Husband: Of course we are.
Tomoyo: Not at all.
Wife: There‟s nothing to be done.
Husband: You can‟t expect the impossible.
Tomoyo: Excuse me. . . .
Husband: We just have to endure. We‟re adults after all.
Wife: You‟re right.
Tomoyo: I will
Wife: What?
Tomoyo: I will.
Wife: You will?
Tomoyo: I‟ll be friends with you.
Husband: You don‟t mind?
Tomoyo: I don‟t mind. It‟s fine.
Wife: Is it all right?
Tomoyo: It‟s all right.
Wife: Really?
Tomoyo: Really.
Wife: Dear, she said it‟s all right, really.
Husband: Thank you.
Tomoyo: Don‟t mention it.
Wife: All right, then this is what you‟ll do. Every morning, we go for a walk like this, so
every morning, you go for a walk, too. And then, we‟ll meet at this riverbank.
And we‟ll talk. That‟s what friends do.
Husband: Every morning‟s a tall order.
Wife: What‟s that?
Husband: Every morning‟s asking too much. I‟m sure she‟s got other things to do.
Wife: Do you have other things to do?
Tomoyo: Well. . . .
Husband: I have to go to work, too, so. . . .
Wife: Oh, are you working?
Husband: Of course.
Wife: Really? I thought you were never going to work again.
Husband: That‟s impossible.
Wife: Well, I‟ll be. What a let down! I‟ll be lonely again.
Husband: What are you talking about. We have to live, don‟t we?
Wife: What a let down.
Husband: You won‟t be lonely.
Husband: We‟ve become friends, haven‟t we?
Wife: You suppose?
Husband: I do.
Tomoyo: Why not occasionally?
Wife: Pardon?
Tomoyo: You'll still take a walk occasionally, won't you? Along this river?
Husband: I suppose.
Wife: For a while, I suppose.
Tomoyo: Then, I'll take a walk occasionally, too.
Husband: Yes.
Wife: Yes. And that will be our occasion to talk, when your occasionally and our
occasionally meet --like two butterflies landing on the same flower.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: We'll start to fret not being able to sleep. There will be something to look forward to.
If we get sleepy on our walk, we won't go home. We will wait for you. Just a
little while. We'll have butterflies in our stomach with the thought of meeting you.
We'll wait for you to wake early and come.
Tomoyo: I'm not up early.
Wife: What?
Tomoyo: I haven‟t slept today either.
Husband: Is that a fact?
Wife: Were you crying, too?
Tomoyo: No, that‟s not it.
Wife: Then why haven‟t you slept?
Husband: Hey!
Wife: What?
Husband: Stop it.
Wife: Why?
Husband: There are all kinds of things going on with women.
Wife: I‟m a woman, too, you know.
Husband: You‟re different. You‟re cast iron.
Wife: My goodness! Is that how it works?
Tomoyo: I haven‟t been crying exactly.
Wife: No?
Husband: Hey!
Wife: Why not? (To husband) We‟re friends, after all.
Tomoyo: I‟m floundering—maybe that‟s the way to put it.
Wife: Yes?
Tomoyo: wishing my hair will grow out.
Wife: Yes?
Tomoyo: That‟s the way I feel.
(Beat.)
Wife: Dear?
Husband: Yes?
Wife: Do you get it?
Husband: How am I supposed to?
Tomoyo: I‟m sorry.
Wife: Dear, the fireflies.
Husband: Yeah.
Wife: The fireflies have gone.
Husband: Oh, you‟re right.
(Husband begins flashing his light. )
Wife: Can I see that?
Tomoyo: Sure.
(Wife begins flashing her light with her husband.)
Husband: That‟s it then.
Wife: What?
Husband: Women flounder.
Wife: Is that so?
Husband: Their hair takes forever to grow out. So women flounder.
Wife: Do I flounder, too?
Husband: You‟re different. You‟re made of cast iron.
Wife: There you go again.
Husband: And you have me to be with you.
Wife: Is that all it takes?
Husband: That‟s all it takes.
(The two of them are flashing their lights on and off. Tomoyo stands up.)
Wife: We'll be waiting.
Tomoyo: Pardon?
Wife: Here. With butterflies in our stomach.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Wife: Do you have butterflies?
Tomoyo: What?
Wife: Do you? Now?
Tomoyo: ...A little.
(The couple continue their flashing. Leaving only their flickering behind, the
lights go down.)
(Nakagawa is standing on top of the low table in the middle of the room.)
Nakagawa: Come back!
(So saying, he tests the direction the air conditioner is blowing. He whinnies.
He strips to the waist and lets the wind blow over him.)
Nakagawa: The wind‟s almost too cold. . . . The horse will be chilled. . . . (He shivers.)
Now it‟s your turn to come back.
(Bathed in the breeze, he whinnies.)
Tomoyo‟s Voice: Oh?!
(Nakagawa turns in the direction of the voice. Tomoyo enters.)
Nakagawa: You‟re back!
Tomoyo: What?
Nakagawa: Where were you?
Tomoyo: How did you get in here?
Nakagawa: I had a key made. I didn‟t tell you.
Tomoyo: You did?
Nakagawa: I have another also. At my place.
Nakagawa: Where were you? At this time of night?
Tomoyo: That‟s none of your business.
(Nakagawa says nothing.)
Tomoyo: Get down.
(Nakagawa gets down.)
Tomoyo: Leave.
Nakagawa: I‟m not leaving.
Tomoyo: This is against the rules. At this time of night.
Nakagawa: Nobody will see me when I leave.
Tomoyo: That‟s not the problem.
Nakagawa: What is the problem?
(Tomoyo does not respond but sits down.)
Nakagawa: How about something to drink?
Tomoyo: No, thanks.
Nakagawa: Come on, let‟s have something.
(Nakagawa starts for the kitchen.)
Tomoyo: Do you want to know about me?
Nakagawa: Yes.
Tomoyo: You‟re interested in me?
Nakagawa: Yes, I am.
Tomoyo: It doesn‟t seem like it.
Nakagawa: I am.
Tomoyo: No, you‟re not. I can tell. You‟re only interested in yourself. Think about it and
you‟ll see.
Nakagawa: That‟s not true.
Tomoyo: Let‟s think about it now. I‟ll help you, come on. I‟m good at it.
Nakagawa: Never mind.
Tomoyo: All right. Relax your shoulders. Let 'em go. Let 'em go. But don't let your mind
go.
Tomoyo: Go on.
(Nakagawa says nothing, but he relaxes his shoulders.)
Tomoyo: Don‟t flare your nostrils.
Nakagawa: My nostrils aren‟t flared.
Tomoyo: They are flared. You just don‟t realize it.
(Nakagawa becomes self-conscious of his nostrils.)
Tomoyo: Now look straight at me. Okay, think.
(Nakagawa doesn’t say anything.)
Tomoyo: Think deeply . . . think deeply. . . .
(Nakagawa still says nothing.)
Tomoyo: See?
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: See what I mean?
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: Not enough? Okay, then let‟s close our eyes.
Nakagawa: Enough.
Tomoyo: No, it‟s not.
Nakagawa: Enough. I‟m finished.
Tomoyo: Come on!
Nakagawa: If I wasn‟t thinking about you, why would I have come over here? And at this
time of night?
Tomoyo: That‟s just a narcissistic trap amateurs fall into.
Nakagawa: I haven‟t slept.
Tomoyo: Neither have I.
Nakagawa: Oh?
Tomoyo: But the reasons are different, I‟ll bet.
Nakagawa: Oh? . . .
Tomoyo: I wonder why? Give me a minute to think.
(Tomoyo relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes. Nakagawa approaches her.)
Tomoyo: Let me see. . . .
(Nakagawa embraces Tomoyo. Tomoyo resists. Fiercely. Finally, Nakagawa
gets slapped. He is stunned.)
Tomoyo: Shall I tell you? About myself?
Nakagawa: Huh?
Tomoyo: Sit down. Over there.
Nakagawa: Why?
Tomoyo: Sit down.
(Nakagawa sits. Tomoyo goes to the kitchen.)
Nakagawa: Um. . . .
(Nakagawa has no choice but to sit there like a child who has been punished.
Tomoyo reappears. She carries a towel. She tosses it to Nakagawa.)
Tomoyo: For your cheek.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Tomoyo: Use that.
(Nakagawa presses the towel to his cheek. Tomoyo sits down.)
Tomoyo: I used to be really fat. When I was in grade school. I was so fat, my teachers
were worried. It didn‟t bother me. I was a regular, quiet girl. One day, my teacher
came to our house. He was discussing something with my mother.
Nakagawa: Hmm.
Tomoyo: The very next day, my mother started telling me to go out and jump rope. Every
day at six a.m., it became a routine. Mom would be watching, so every morning I
jumped rope. And I lost weight. “You‟ve lost weight,” my mom said happily.
My teacher was happy, too. During morning announcements, he told the whole
class.
Nakagawa: Hmm.
Tomoyo: “Tomoyo did it all by herself without telling anyone,” he said and made me out
to be some kind of hero. It was so out of character for me that everybody was
shocked. Grade schoolers are so simple. They believed it and were really moved,
even though the all-important person in question wasn‟t moved at all.
Nakagawa: Hmm.
Tomoyo: It‟s so annoying.
Nakagawa: Annoying?
Tomoyo: Yes.
Nakagawa: You weren‟t happy for yourself? Not even a little bit?
Tomoyo: I just had this strange feeling. I mean, being fat didn‟t bother me, and I didn‟t
think there was anything special about being thin. I was detached from the whole
thing. There are these happy people over there, I thought. That‟s when it started.
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: I can‟t get back to the way I was. Not at all—it is so strange. I eat and eat, but
nothing happens. Get back to normal, I think to myself, but I can‟t gain weight.
Actually It‟s a relief. Everytime. I‟m glad I‟m not belittling people‟s happiness and
feelings. It‟d be cruel.
Nakagawa: Hm.
Tomoyo: Ever since then, my body‟s magic. A magic, emaciated body that ridicules
everybody including myself.
Nakagawa: Hm.
Tomoyo: I‟m sorry, but there you have it. So, now you‟ll have to leave.
Nakagawa: What are you talking about? You don‟t know that.
Tomoyo: Yes, I do.
(Nakagawa is mystified.)
Tomoyo: See?
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: People are upset with me.
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: I guess we might as well have something to drink after all.
(Tomoyo stands up, but Nakagawa blocks her way to the kitchen.)
Tomoyo: People are betraying me. Ah-ah, and they regret having done it.
Nakagawa: Hm.
Tomoyo: Anyway, I‟ll keep them company. Just to be polite. It‟d be sad if I belittled
them, too.
(Nakagawa is silent. He exits to the kitchen.)
Tomoyo: You‟re floundering, aren‟t you, Nakagawa. (She looks at the table.) I‟m not
floundering, bitch. What the hell are you talking about? Leave me alone! I
wouldn‟t be caught dead in a love hotel with you! (Tomoyo looks at the table.
She climbs up on top of it.) It‟s cold! Oooo. . . . (She crouches down, hugging
her belly.) Must be the runs. (She sits on the table and doubles over.) My
bottom. . . . Shit. Must have caught a chill. Damn it.
Nakagawa (returning with juice and glasses): Who‟re you talking about?
Tomoyo: Huh?
Nakagawa: Who‟s going to a love hotel with you?
Tomoyo: Somebody other than you.
Nakagawa: Who?
Tomoyo: Somebody totally unlike you.
Tomoyo: You don‟t have any money, do you?
Nakagawa: No. And not just money.
Tomoyo: Huh?
Nakagawa: I don‟t have anything. Nothing.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Nakagawa: Maybe all I have is myself.
Tomoyo: Oh.
Nakagawa: But that self wants you.
(Nakagawa stands on the table. The wind catches his body.)
Nakagawa: And you want me, too.
Tomoyo: I do?
Nakagawa: That‟s right. You‟ll come back to me. The way I came back to you.
(Tomoyo is silent. Nakagawa whinnies.)
Tomoyo: The rain‟s stopped.
Nakagawa: Hm?
Tomoyo: The rain‟s stopped . . . the wind‟s stopped . . . the wind blows.
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: The grains of asphalt boil up. I can‟t breathe.
Tomoyo: I‟m alone.
Nakagawa: You‟re not going to any love hotel.
Tomoyo: But there‟s a horse.
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: A horse who weeps atop a table.
Nakagawa: I‟m not weeping.
Tomoyo: Don‟t weep.
Nakagawa: I said, I‟m not weeping.
Tomoyo: Don‟t weep.
Nakagawa: I am not weeping, I said.
Tomoyo: You never know. I may go to a love hotel.
Nakagawa: No, you won‟t.
Tomoyo: I‟m not sure.
Nakagawa: You won‟t, I said.
Tomoyo: Ah-ah.
Nakagawa: What?
Tomoyo: I‟m going to fart.
Nakagawa: Huh?
Tomoyo: I farted.
(Blackout.)
Scene 12: The Opposite Side of the Riverbank Without Fireflies
(Murai and Megumi are sitting on their haunches.)

Murai: May I?
Megumi: Go ahead.
Murai: Really?
Megumi: Really.
Murai: I wonder. . . .
Megumi: What‟s wrong?
(Murai gets up and starts to do knee bends.)
Megumi: What?
(Murai doesn’t respond.)
Megumi: Come on, let‟s go.
Murai: Wait a second. (He continues to do knee bends.) Do you mind if I undress?
Megumi: What?
Murai: You know, undress.
Megumi: Hm.
(Murai strips to the waist and continues doing knee bends.)
Murai: I wonder if I‟m happy.
Megumi: What?
Murai: If I‟m happy doing this.
Megumi: I wouldn‟t know.
Murai: I must be happy.
(Murai begins to take off the rest of his clothes.)
Megumi: You‟re cool, you know that?
Murai: Huh?
Megumi: You‟re cool.
Murai: I am?
Megumi: Because, look. You‟re happy, aren‟t you?
Murai: Well…
Megumi: Because you look happy.
Murai: Talk straight. The way you did before.
Megumi: It‟s hard.
Murai: It‟s something simple, isn‟t it, like before?
Megumi: Well. . . .
(Murai is now wearing only his briefs and continues doing knee bends)
Megumi: You won‟t have to turn on your air conditioner, even after we get to your room.
Murai: Why?
Megumi: I‟ll get undressed, too. Like you.
Murai: How come?
Megumi: Because it‟s cool.
(Murai continues his knee bends.)
Murai: Hey!
Megumi: What?
Murai: I saw a firefly.
Megumi: Where?
Murai: Over there, on the other side of the river.
Megumi: There are no fireflies around here, not at this time of year.
Murai: Yes, there are. Look. There goes one!
Megumi: Oh!
Murai: It‟s gone.
Megumi: You‟re right!
(Murai stops doing knee bends.)
Murai: The fireflies look happy, too.
Megumi: You think so?
Murai: Absolutely.
(Murai starts doing push-ups. Megumi watches him and thinks he’s cool.
Blackout.)
Scene 13: Tomoyo’s Workplace
(Tomoyo enters, wearing her office smock. She is carrying architectural plans as
she was in scene five.)
Tomoyo: Whah!
(As usual, she drops the plans.)
Tomoyo: Rats!
(She gathers them up and spreads them on the desk. She looks over her shoulder
at the doorway. Nobody is there. She continues her work. )
Tomoyo: “Maintenance Chart” . . . “Regional Plan” . . . “Construction Plan” . . . “Land
Use Plan”—here it is!
(She spreads it out on the table.)
Tomoyo: Colored pencils.
(She moves her hand, so the paper rolls back up into a tube.)
Tomoyo: Darn it!
(She spreads the paper out again, places four or five colored pencils on the edge,
and begins to work while holding the paper down. She looks over her shoulder at
the doorway. No one is there.)
Tomoyo (enthusiastically): Good morning!
(In the process of saying this, the paper rolls up again. Tomoyo rolls it up against
the bias and spreads it out on the desk.)
Tomoyo: I‟d love a cup of coffee.
(She stops and once again rolls the paper up against the bias. She stands up. As
she does this, she goes to the door.)
Tomoyo: Truly heroic tardiness. This is a new record.
(She comes back and starts to work. Murai has entered. He is naked from the
waist up. He carries a cardboard box.)
Tomoyo: Good morning. Oh!
Murai: Hi!
Tomoyo: Hey!
Murai: Huh?
Tomoyo: What‟s going on?
Murai: What, Tomoyo?
Tomoyo: How come you‟re naked?
Murai: Naked? I‟m not naked.
Tomoyo: Isn‟t that what you call naked?
Murai: This isn‟t naked. I‟m wearing pants. You wouldn‟t call this naked, not normally.
Tomoyo: Normally, yes you would.
Murai: I‟ll show you naked.
(He starts to remove his trousers.)
Tomoyo: All right, all right. I get the point.
Murai: Hey, how come you‟re goofing off in here? You on break?
Tomoyo: I‟m not on break. I‟m working.
Murai: All by your lonesome.
Tomoyo: I‟m not lonesome. I‟m working.
Murai: It‟s cool in here.
Tomoyo: Yes.
Murai: It‟s hot today.
Tomoyo: Really?
Murai: You can‟t tell when you‟re inside.
Tomoyo: You making deliveries again?
Murai: I‟m filling in. Whenever they‟re short handed, I get volunteered. Small businesses
are run by a bunch of fascists if you ask me.
Tomoyo: Yeah.
Murai: Whew. . . . Well, you think I should get dressed?
Tomoyo: Good idea.
(Tomoyo gets down to business. Murai puts on a shirt—a sleeveless running shirt.)
Murai: This is heaven.
Tomoyo: What‟s that?
Murai: What do you mean?
Tomoyo: You call that a shirt?
Murai: Of course it‟s a shirt. I had it stuffed in my pocket.
Tomoyo: That‟s a running shirt.
Murai: It‟s still a shirt. If it‟s not a shirt, what is it? A rag? Did I just dress myself in a
rag?
Tomoyo: It‟s a shirt.
Murai: All right then.
(Tomoyo returns to her work.)
Murai: I was just being considerate. I thought I might offend you.
Tomoyo: Wearing that doesn‟t help much.
Murai: I‟m telling you, it‟s all right.
Tomoyo: It‟s a matter of taste, I guess.
Murai: I have wide-ranging tastes.
Tomoyo: I suppose it doesn‟t matter.
Murai: Really?
Tomoyo: Really.
Murai: Then off it goes. (He takes off his shirt.)
Tomoyo: Hey!
Murai: Now this is the way to relax!
Tomoyo: Not that I mind, but. . . .
Murai: It feels so gooood in my birthday suit.
(Tomoyo is silent.)
Murai: Although it‟s not exactly my birthday suit. . . .
Tomoyo: I get the point already.
(Murai gives a high-pitched laugh and rests his chin on the desk.)
Murai: Be nice to him, okay?
Tomoyo: Who?
Murai: Nakagawa.
Tomoyo: I am being nice to him.
Murai: Really?
(Tomoyo doesn’t answer.)
Murai: All by yourself like this, you must be lonely.
Tomoyo: I am not lonely, I said.
Murai: But you‟re all by yourself here now.
Tomoyo: That can‟t be helped. It‟s my job.
Murai: Even so, it must be a real rush-rush project what you‟re doing there.
Tomoyo: Not really.
Murai: Nobody else is working; you‟re here all by yourself.
Tomoyo: What do you mean nobody else is working?
Murai: There‟s nobody else here. At the moment. On this floor.
Tomoyo: What?
Murai: On this floor. At the moment. There‟s nobody here.
Tomoyo: You‟re pulling my leg.
Murai: The section chief was here, that‟s true.
Tomoyo: Really. How come?
Murai: He was, I‟m telling you.
(Tomoyo goes outside. )
Murai: I could really use a cup of coffee. . . .
(Tomoyo returns.)
Tomoyo: He was just here. . . .
Murai: You really seem up-tight.
Tomoyo: About what?
Murai: I hear Hayakawa‟s quitting the company.
Tomoyo: Quitting?
Murai: Or maybe I should say he‟s going to have to quit.
Tomoyo: What?
Murai: Huh?
Tomoyo: What are you talking about?
Murai: That‟s what I heard, just now.
Tomoyo: From who?
Murai: The section chief. He said he‟s going to start a farm. Up in Shinshū, where his
wife‟s family is from. They‟re going to raise high-altitude vegetables.
Tomoyo: In Shinshū?
Murai: You think you can make any money like that? Farming, I mean?
Tomoyo: When?
Murai: I just heard it. I asked the section chief if this wasn‟t awfully sudden, and he said it
was awfully sudden. He was really annoyed.
Tomoyo: Where‟s Hayakawa now?
Murai: I don‟t know.
Tomoyo: Didn‟t you ask?
Murai: I didn‟t ask.
(Tomoyo starts to leave.)
Murai: Two sugars, please.
Tomoyo: What?
Murai: I‟ll join you for a break.
(Tomoyo exits in silence.)
Murai: Ah, this is heaven!
(Murai looks at the plans Tomoyo has spread on the table.)
Murai: “Land Use Plan,” hmm. . . . (He starts coloring it in with a colored pencil.) This
part‟s greenery, so obviously it‟s got to be green. (He picks up a different pencil.)
A little bluish tint . . . to give it some depth. (He stares at the plan.) Oops! That‟s
a road. (He wets his finger with saliva and rubs out what he’s done.) The lines are
so thin, how‟re you supposed to tell? Out, out, out, out. . . .
(Tomoyo enters.)
Murai: That was quick.
Tomoyo: Yeah, yeah..
Murai: It was.
Tomoyo: What are you talking about?
Murai: Everybody went someplace, right?
Tomoyo: I don‟t know. They went with Hayakawa.
Murai: Hayakawa showed up?
Tomoyo: To say goodbye, apparently.
Murai: And where did they go?
Tomoyo: I have no idea. Some coffee shop, I suppose.
Murai: Where?
Tomoyo: How would I know? There must be a million coffee shops around here.
Murai: The section‟s chief‟s annoyed, isn‟t he?
Tomoyo: He yelled at me. Here I am working, too.
Murai: Injustice!
Tomoyo: Screw you. (She sits.)
Murai: Shinshū‟s beautiful.
(Tomoyo does not react.)
Murai: Air‟s clean, just the wife and him. They must really love each other.
Tomoyo: Not likely.
Murai: Huh?
Tomoyo: What happened to me and the hotel?
Murai: Huh?
Tomoyo: Where does he get off?
Murai: How should I know?
(Tomoyo stands. She goes to the door.)
Murai: It‟s hard to believe, you know. I wonder if they‟re going to plant some new kind of
cucumber. Giant ones like this.
Tomoyo: No idea.
Murai: Maybe I should start a farm with my honey. In the neighborhood. (He giggles.)
Tomoyo: Good idea.
(Murai giggles. Tomoyo is silent.)
Murai: You know what?
(Tomoyo doesn’t answer.)
Murai: Listen to me, Tomoyo. You know what?
Tomoyo: What?
Murai: I found a girl.
Tomoyo: Really?
Murai: I‟m happy.
Tomoyo: I‟m happy for you.
Murai: I‟ll even be able to get to sleep now, even when I‟m alone.
Tomoyo: No, you won‟t.
Murai: How come?
Tomoyo: A girl has nothing to do with it.
Murai: Why?
Tomoyo: Even if her hair‟s long.
Murai: What?
Tomoyo: You won‟t be able to keep the asphalt away like that.
(Murai is silent. Tomoyo sits.)
Tomoyo: And you were the one who was floundering the most, too.
Murai: What? What‟s wrong?
Tomoyo: Your clothes.
Murai: Oh.
Tomoyo: Your clothes. Put them on.
Murai: Sure.
Tomoyo: Put them on.
(Murai puts on his running shirt in silence.)
Murai: Is that better?
Tomoyo: You look like an idiot.
Murai: Yeah?
Tomoyo: Definitely uncool.
Murai: Yeah?
(As Murai begins to take the shirt off again, Hayakawa enters. He is wearing a
mask.)
Murai: Ah!
Hayakawa: Miss Iida.
(Hayakawa waves. Tomoyo stares at him.)
Tomoyo: I am alone.
(Hayakawa waves.)
Tomoyo: But there‟s a horse. . . .
(Murai waves back at Hayakawa with the hand in which he holds his shirt. The
shirt flutters in the air.)
Tomoyo: That‟s not enough, though, not nearly enough.
(Hayakawa and Murai are waving at each other. Tomoyo just watches them.
Blackout.)
Scene 14: A Riverbank Without Fireflies and Tomoyo’s Room
(The couple are flashing their flashlights.)

Wife: You think she‟ll come?
Husband: Good question.
Wife: She‟ll come. I‟m sure of it.
Husband: Well, you never know.
Wife: I‟m excited.
Husband: Yeah.
(Nakagawa walks in and sees the two of them.)
Wife: Can‟t sleep a wink.
Husband: That‟s for sure.
Wife: Haven‟t slept in ages. Because we‟re doing this.
Husband: Don‟t want to sleep anymore.
Wife: What are you going to do about a job?
Husband: I better look.
Wife: Let‟s forget it.
Husband: What?
Wife: Looking for a job.
Husband: That won‟t do.
Wife: I‟d rather be doing this.
Husband: Me, too.
(Nakagawa crouches down next to them.)
Wife: When summer‟s over, let‟s disappear.
Husband: We can‟t do that.
Wife: But. . . .
Husband: Ah-ah.
Wife: If we could just sort of fade away.
Husband: Yeah.
(Nakagawa stands. He is a horse. He tests the wind. He whinnies.
The couple stare at Nakagawa. He whinnies and snorts long and hard. The
whinnying stops, and a few moments pass.)
Husband: If we keep this up . . . we‟ll turn into fireflies.
(With the flashlights still going on and off, Tomoyo’s room brightens. Tomoyo,
two glasses and a bottle of juice in her hands, has turned on the lights. She looks
toward the door.)
Tomoyo: Come, horse. . . . (Placing the glasses on the low table and pouring juice into
them) Come, horse, come to me. Come and suffocate me. My breathing is . . .
your breathing. . . . (She picks up one of the glasses and looks toward the door.)
Come on, horse. . . . (She gets up on the table and drains the glass of juice.)
(Blackout. )
Notes
1. A limbless wooden doll made of a cylindrical body and round head. Kokeshi are thought
to have originated in the Edo period(1603-1867). They come in various sizes but average
between eight and twelve inches.

Fireflies: A Play by Suzue Toshiro

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Fireflies: A Play by Suzue Toshiro

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(revised script courtesy of the playwright)

FOR TANGHALANG ATENEO USE ONLY

Scene 1: Tomoyo’s Room

Scene 3: A Riverbank Without Fireflies

Scene 4: Nakagawa’s Room

(Nakagawa’s voice is heard whinnying and snorting in the darkness. After a

Scene 5: Tomoyo’s Office

Scene 6: A Riverbank Without Fireflies

(Husband enters. He is standing. With his flashlight inside his shirt, he is

Scene 7: Morning in Nakagawa’s Room

(Murai, who has been sleeping, awakes.)

Scene 8: A Coffee Shop in Front of Umegaoka Station

(Murai and Megumi are standing with a table between them.)

Scene 10: A Riverbank Without Fireflies

Scene 11: Tomoyo’s Room

Scene 12: The Opposite Side of the Riverbank Without Fireflies

(Murai and Megumi are sitting on their haunches.)

Scene 13: Tomoyo’s Workplace

Scene 14: A Riverbank Without Fireflies and Tomoyo’s Room

(The couple are flashing their flashlights.)

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