When I was 20 years old, I was indebted to a dynamic senior named Mr. Fuchinohei (52 years old at the time).

Even though he was a salaryman, he owned a small tavern in Shinjuku and gave part-time jobs to unsuccessful musicians and actors.

Mr. Fuchino was an advertising man, and in his work, he was known as “Hora no Hira,” or “the liar’s flatterer,” because of his glibness. It is said that he used to persuade his clients by saying with conviction, “I am sure I can catch the moon. Even though everyone knew it was a hoax, about once every ten times he really did catch the tail of the moon. He accomplished such a miraculous job.

Mr. Fuchino was a lovable man. He was missing one of his front teeth, and when everyone pitched in, he lost it the next week at a horse race,” he said, grunting through his empty front tooth.

Perhaps sensing that he was dying of lung cancer, he left the hospital and was summoned to the tatami room of a sukiyaki restaurant in Shinjuku.

With a smile, he said, “Oh no, I wanted to eat sukiyaki and shabu-shabu at the same time before I die.”

The following week, Mr. Fuchino passed away.

It is strange that even now, when I remember that carefree smile, I feel like I could at least catch the tail of the moon myself.