The first time I encountered it was at the after-party following the end-of-term general meeting. A male classmate asked, “If a fire broke out in a bathhouse, would you cover your face or your body?” I imagined it—a body covered with a towel that had been thinned by hundreds of washes, a face blushing as it covered the body… What answer would make me sound sexy, funny, and liberal? Then, it happened. A naked woman covered in a faded public bath towel walked through the door of the pub. “I’ve come to find my master,” she said in Japanese. When she removed the towel, my own face was what was revealed underneath.. I stared at my own face, met my own eyes, and looked down at a body that wasn’t mine. I couldn’t comprehend why some entity with my face but someone else’s body was walking around naked in the heart of this city. It had already taken a seat, stretched its legs under the table, and was stirring between the legs of the classmate across from me. From its toes, nails began to grow as if from a 3D printer and dug into his scrotum. The classmate twisted his face in pain, shouting, “Pomade! Pomade! Pomade!” three times, but it was already too late. The woman covered herself with the towel again and left the place at a leisurely pace. The answer was deferred indefinitely.
