𝕃𝔸𝕄𝕌.film ☾
Magic Spray
by Lamu Xiangqiu 11.17.2020
"Trying to save the failing flowering plants? Want to boost how much milk your cows and sheep produce? Want to be YOUNG again? Now you have more than a dream within your reach. This magic spray, developed by Shiseido, Japan's largest beauty conglomerate, and the M-483 government magic department, can bring back to life all the people and things you long for and miss." A deep and unnoticeably neurotic voice venting from the sports channel, along with a beautiful symphony of music, takes over the darkened room.
The 68-year-old Tsubasa is drowsing in a rickety old man's chair, his thinning hair still in disarray, a brown wool blanket resting on his lap. "Back from the dead?" His drooping eyes snap open, and he straights his weak glasses on his nose bridge before picking up the remote control panel. He turns up the volume, "Yes, this technology was tested last winter, and now on behalf of Shiseido and the M-483 government, we are inviting an eager citizen to be our first customer." Tsubasa's glazed eyes now add a little life by the blue light of the TV, and you can even see an impulse welling up in his eyes. "Of course, as our first customer, we charge nothing for the use of the spray, except for one complete session, and we will also invite a film crew to document this exhilarating process. Please don't hesitate to pick up the phone near you and call our hotline immediately! The first person to call the hotline will get this valuable opportunity!" A row of prominently bolded phone numbers appears at the bottom of the screen. Tsubasa immediately picks up the red phone on the small side table next to his chair and presses the numbers as quickly as a professional typist would.
He is listening to the voice from the phone with bated breath.
A small photo is decorated in a silver frame, in which a woman with curly black hair and a white kimono looked happy, nestled next to a tall Asian man in a football player's uniform. "Oh, my darling, it's almost time, it's almost time." Tsubasa's eyes gaze fondly at the photo as the operator's voice coming over the phone, "Hello! Dear customer, who am I speaking with?" "Ah...this...this is...my name is Tsubasa, and I'm calling from the North Sea Lighthouse." Tsubasa gripped the phone line excitedly and tried to speak his message as clearly as possible. "Hello Mr. Tsubasa, it's a pleasure to speak with you, we're counting the order of incoming calls at the moment, so please hold on. We'll be right back!" Tsubasa hugs the photo to his chest, listening intently as he whispers a prayer.
The TV host and crew were busy communicating about something, and the intermittent symphony of music keeps disturbing Tsubasa's thoughts as he mutes the TV and waiting for a reply.
"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Tsubasa, congratulations! You're the first citizen to call the hotline, we'll connect you into the studio right away, and a documentary film crew is on its way!" The phone crew brings Tsubasa a series of surprises, and before he could say thank you, his name is on the TV, the host had his headphones on, and the world is about to hear his story.
"Congrats, Mr. Tsubasa from North Sea Lighthouse. This is Studio Live connecting with you." There seems to be a delay between the host's mouthpiece and the phone call. Tsubasa takes off his glasses and tells the host his story, "This is Tsubasa. I'm a lighthouse keeper, now 68 years old. I used to live in the city with my wife; I was a football player. My wife was always there on the sidelines, cheering me on. She saw me through every birth of my champions. I miss it so much, but ten years ago my wife left me-" the host interrupts him, "For sure, the people who have been there for us in our lives are always so important... Oh! And good news, the film crew with their magic spray has arrived at your lighthouse! We'll connect to the live director right away!" The phone is disconnected. Tsubasa haven't returned to his senses; the worn, greenish metal door has appeared on the TV. A fierce knock on the door breaks the silence, "Door is unlocked." Suddenly reporters pour into this house. "Hello, sir." A female reporter smiles at him and motions for another camera to move into position. An officer in a blue uniform hands the magic spray to Tsubasa, "We will not disturb you. We will only witness this miraculous moment with you."
Tsubasa takes the white aluminum bottle over with a trembling hand. He breaths deeply, "My dear, for ten years I have been living alone, every twilight hour I think back to the time I spent with you, when you were
beautiful when I was full of energy, I hope this spray will take that time back to me." With all eyes watching, Tsubasa picks up the picture, wipes it gently, and leaves a kiss. The woman reporter silently wipes her wet eyes. Tsubasa slowly put the photo down, pulls off the blanket, strains to remove his pants, and turned on the spray. All of the camera crew are stunned.
He shakes the spray and eagerly sprays the magical liquid onto his already atrophied and disabled legs, he keeps pressing, and the mist envelops his legs. His legs are young again, growing strong muscles, and his skin had changed from gray to a healthy brown color. He is very excited and sprays the magical liquid all over his body as everyone looks in shock, his hair turns black, and he becomes taller and taller. "Wait...wait, aren't you going to use it on your wife?" The reporter asked hesitantly. At that moment, Tsubasa, who is busy frantically using the spray in his crotch, replied perfunctorily, "Oh, that old lady? She's dead and burnt to ashes; she probably doesn't want to come back. I'll feel it FOR her." His firm, booming voice couldn't hide the joy he feels inside. He stands up, runs a few steps around the hut, and leaves the lighthouse with a crazily exaggerated laughing. No one can stop him. His athlete-like physique let him run very fast. He rushes to the football field not far from the lighthouse and joins a group of young men.
The TV cuts back to the TV studio, and the two hosts are weirdly embarrassed and confused, "Well, at least it worked." "Yeah..." the other host replies. "Anyways, it was a magical moment, and I hope everyone in front of the TV will be able to use our product, and we'll see you next Saturday, same time, same us!"