Every summer at the university travel club’s camping trip, a man the members refer to in private as “the Preacher” appears. [1]
His real name is Hotta. A club alumnus, twenty years older than the current members. He apparently served as deputy president during his student days, though this is uncertain. No current member knows him personally. He is not invited. Even so, he comes every year.
Hotta has a set ritual.
Without being asked, he narrates the history of the club. From its founding, to stories about the first president, to unusual incidents at past training camps. Stories nobody knows, that nobody has asked for, Hotta tells with care. It takes two hours each time. When he finishes, he leaves looking satisfied. This repeats every year.
In the beginning the members listened politely, but these days they drift in and out, absorbing Hotta’s voice like a lullaby. This had become the established tradition of summer.
This year too, Hotta appeared.
The members braced themselves as usual. But this year was different. Shortly after Hotta began speaking, someone in the back row let out a small laugh. It spread to the person next to them. Then the next. Before long, everyone was listening to Hotta’s story with shoulders shaking, suppressing laughter.
Hotta could feel it landing.
Usually all he could see were drowsy faces. But this year, everyone’s shoulders were shaking. Were they trembling with emotion? Finally his words were getting through. Hotta put more feeling into it than ever. For two hours, he did not stop once.
He finished. Louder laughter than usual broke out. Hotta gave a deep, satisfied nod.
Hotta’s society’s window had been open for two hours. [2]
[1] Dendōshi (伝道師) means literally “one who spreads the teaching,” a term carrying clear religious connotations, most closely associated with Christian evangelism or Buddhist propagation in Japanese usage. As a nickname it functions as a quietly affectionate piece of cruelty: someone who delivers unsolicited doctrine to an audience that did not choose to receive it and cannot easily leave.
[2] Shakai no mado (社会の窓, literally “society’s window”) is a Japanese euphemism for an open trouser fly. The expression is believed to derive from the title of an old broadcast program and has remained in everyday use as an indirect way to alert someone to the situation. The entire punchline of the story rests on this term: the laughter spreading through the room had nothing to do with the quality of Hotta’s narration. His fly had been open for the full two hours.
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【1分小説】なぜか、毎年来る男
大学の旅行研究会のキャンプには、毎年夏になると、部員たちが陰で「伝道師」と呼ぶ男が現れる。
本名は堀田という。部活のOBで、現役部員より20歳年上だ。在学中は副部長を務めたらしいが、定かではない。現役部員に知り合いはいない。招かれてもいない。それでも毎年来る。
堀田には恒例の儀式がある。
頼まれてもいないのに、部活の歴史を語るのだ。創部から初代部長の逸話、合宿で起きた珍事。誰も知らない話を、誰も頼んでいないのに、堀田は丁寧に語る。毎回2時間かかる。語り終えると、満足げに帰る。それが毎年繰り返される。
部員たちは最初のうちこそ礼儀正しく聞いていたが、うつらうつらしながら、堀田の声を子守唄のように聞き流す。それが夏の恒例だった。
今年も堀田は現れた。
部員たちはいつものように身構えた。しかし今年は様子が違った。話が始まってすぐ、後列の誰かが小さく笑った。それが隣に伝染した。また隣へ伝染した。気づけば全員が肩を震わせながら、笑いを堪えて堀田の話を聞いている。
一方で堀田は、手応えを感じていた。
いつもは眠そうな顔ばかりだ。しかし今年はみんなの肩が揺れている。感動で震えているのか。ようやく俺の話が伝わった。堀田は今まで以上に熱を込めた。2時間、一度も止まらなかった。
語り終えた。いつもより大きな笑い声が起きた。堀田は深く頷いた。
堀田の社会の窓は、2時間空きっぱなしだった。