I like robot stories, so I’m going to tell a robot story.

There was once a wonderfully expressive robot. A father bought it for his daughter, due to her sorrow over the death of her pet. But the girl refused it: “I don’t want it, they’ll just break anyway.” The robot shot itself with a sports rifle to show its sturdiness and insisted “I won’t break!” The girl stroked its wound, and said “Never do anything like that again.”

The father thought this wonderfully expressive robot would have a good influence on his daughter, who was always stoic and emotionless. And in fact, as she watched the robot laugh and cry over everything, the girl became able to honestly laugh and cry herself. “Even though you’re a robot,” she said. “Even though you’re a robot, I love you.”

When the woman, once a girl, passed away from old age, the robot realized what she had meant when she said “they’ll just break.” The wonderfully expressive robot went to another household, and became companion to another human there, but it could no longer put on a smile like before. “Because they’ll just break anyway."​

—  Fafoo

“Death means the inability to do anything ever again but be dead.”

Fafoo, I marvel at your incredible ability to write things that are at once incredibly stupid-sounding and incredibly deep.

A fool will be cured by the time he’s dead.

While we call them all fools (or its synonyms), there actually exist many different kinds of fool. The fool I speak of here is the fool who creates his own hell. 

What is characteristic of this fool, first of all, is that he is strongly convinced he can never be happy. Made more severe, this conviction can be expanded to become “I shouldn’t be happy,” and ultimately arrive at “I don’t want to be happy,” a most destructive misunderstanding. 

Once that point is reached, there’s nothing left to fear. These fools become intensely familiar with dissatisfaction, and no matter how blessed their environment, they find some loophole to avoid happiness. As this is all done subconsciously, they believe this world to be hell - when in actuality, they are just making it hell themselves with every step they take. 

From vgperson:

Three Days of Happiness is a novel by Sugaru Miaki, also known a Fafoo. It’s a rewritten version of the story originally posted to 2ch, much the same as what was done with Starting Over.

If you haven’t read the original story, the premise revolves around a shop where one can sell away the remaining years of their life, and the consequences of doing so. I encourage you to buy the book yourself to support the author. (Amazon)”

You can find her translations here.

I’m a huge fan of Sugaru Miaki/Fafoo and I completely love this particular story, ever since I read the one he posted on 2ch. As such, what I’ve done is to compile all the parts of the translation into one PDF file to make it easier for anybody to read. I’m currently downloading Calibre so that I can try and make one in an epub or mobi format, but at the moment a complete PDF is all that’s available. Sorry, folks!

I’ve tried my best to not change anything in vgperson’s translation of the novel. The only things I’ve done are little edits like font size and lines between sections; stuff like that. If there’s anything lacking or wrong with the file then let me know and I’ll see if I can fix it.

Here’s the first five pages:

You can download the PDF file here.

Note: If I find anybody selling these I will hunt you down and burn you while you sleep. If you bought these you were ripped off. Just pointing that out to ya.

EDIT: I tried making an epub version. I failed. Miserably. Anyone who wants to do it please be my guest.

A girl who’s been cursed to turn everyone she sees to stone, but was always too shy to look people in the eye anyway; a boy who’s been cursed to turn everyone he touches to gold, but he’s a coward who’s never even held anyone’s hand… Something like that’s been done, right? Must have been. About a year back?

I bet those two would get along, talking through a window, then end up living together, standing back to back a little bit apart and talking. But eventually they’d be persecuted as monsters, and just before they die, they’d hold out their hands, look into each other’s eyes, and after having their first true meeting, would die turning to stone and gold.

—  Fafoo
A girl your age who took the same bus to school for three years, but never talked to you once up to graduation; a boy you played with in the park daily as a kid, but never knew the name of; a cat who would, no matter when, always glare at you from the window whenever you passed in front of its house. I like to think about “those who you don’t know at all, yet know very well.”
—  Fafoo
Even at the age of 24, I’ll gladly fall in love with popular music that 12-year-olds would like, or purely-entertaining movies that 16-year-olds would like. Some will claim that it’s inappropriate for my age, but I think it’s simply that the 12-year-old me and the 16-year-old me still live on, loving those things. As long as there’s a 24-year-old me aware of that, then I don’t think there’s any problem.
—  Fafoo
When you reunite with a bad friend from elementary school decades later, and he’s become a wonderful father… that kind of thing is nice and all. But if I reunited decades later with a weird girl who always used to go “I want to destroy the world” and pore over science magazines, and she was now working at a famous research institute and told me “I think we’ll be able to destroy the world very soon!”, I think I might fall in love.
—  Fafoo

I think one in five children who read The Ugly Duckling are left with the impression “Like that would happen!” “Sure, it’s great that YOU were a "beautiful swan” all along, but what are the ducks who really were ugly ducklings supposed to do?! Show me how the ugly ducks can still be happy!“

That’s why I don’t like stories about people resolving their problems and being happy as much as stories about people finding salvation while their problems remain unresolved. The former may be the happier outcome for the main character, but it has no practical bearing on bystanders who still have unresolved problems. Whereas the latter can be a definite relief for those who have problems which even the main character can’t resolve.

—  Fafoo
Sugaru Miaki's "Three Days of Happiness": Part 1

Three Days of Happiness is a novel by Sugaru Miaki, also known as Fafoo. It’s a rewritten version of the story originally posted to 2ch, much the same as what was done with Starting Over.

If you haven’t read the original story, the premise revolves around a shop where one can sell away the remaining years of their life, and the consequences of doing so. I encourage you to buy the book yourself to support the author. (Amazon) (Kinokuniya)

Also, I Say A Little Prayer is a short related story which was posted along with the novel’s release. It spoils some things about the main story, but nothing major.

You can read the translated book as PDF here.

This time, there are 15 chapters with decent lengths and names. (Supposedly Starting Over was the way it was to imitate Catcher in the Rye.) They aren’t quite even in terms of pages, however, so I’ll be divvying up those chapters into four parts of roughly equal length.

Part 1 is Chapter 1 to Chapter 4. Enjoy!

Keep reading

I’m surprised when people tell me they’ve never cried listening to music, and I’m surprised when people tell me they’ve never been jealous of characters in a really happy story, and I’m surprised when people tell me they don’t like something just because it has a sad ending… So basically, I exist in a constant state of surprise.
—  Fafoo
The situation of “someone precious sleeping next to you” is one I love to death, and that may be because sleep is the ultimate form of defenselessness, and thus it’s a very passive but effective way of saying “I trust you.” Of course, I also like people revealing their true feelings to such sleepers in a “I doubt you can hear me, but…” way.
—  Fafoo
I have an abnormal appreciation for depictions of “the world after the protagonist is gone” as an epilogue. I like when the protagonist dies and people miss them, but I also like when people don’t care one bit. I consider this world without a narrator akin to visiting a school after you graduate. There’s not a single thing left in that place which can threaten me.
—  Fafoo
In another life, I’d like most of my body to be mechanized after I got into an accident, and while I was depressed about that, I’d be mistaken for a stray android and taken in by a woman with an incurable illness and hired as a house worker. To establish a good relationship with the misanthropic woman, I would keep pretending to be a mechanical puppet. Then in the end, with her last breath, she’d say “If only you’d been a human,” and I would regret it all.
—  Fafoo

I used to think that I wrote to tell others “the things I want to say.” But I just noticed this very morning that I don’t write what I want to say, but “what I wanted to be said.” “I wanted someone to say this, but no one ever said it for me.” That’s what I believe I’m writing, in a way that’s like stroking myself on the head.

When I try to help someone who’s in a difficult situation, the person I’m really saving is myself, who was once in a similar plight. By doing for someone what I wanted done for me, I indirectly save my former self. I aim to prove with my own hand that such wonderful things as this can happen after all.

—  Fafoo

When I was about five, I asked my mother “Why aren’t grown-ups afraid of ghosts?” She replied, “It’s not like they’re not afraid of ghosts. They just have less time to think about them.” As an adult now, I feel like I’m able to keep a cool head about many things, yet maybe it really is just “I have less time to think about them.”

With our better understanding, we’ve said we’re giving up on “love as fierce as a romance novel,” “youth as invigorating as a shonen manga,” “a household as warm as a family drama.” But if, someday, we personally witnessed these things becoming “real,” I wonder if we could keep ourselves together? I wonder if we could resolutely stay grown-ups?

—  Fafoo
​"I’ll forget the taste of that 50,000 yen dinner, but I’ll never forget the taste of the rice ball I ate after that shipwreck.“ "I’ll forget the person I spent every night with in bed when things were going well, but I’ll never forget the person who simply held my hand when I was in the pits.” I consider this kind of attributional error another one of those beautiful human glitches.
—  Fafoo
When I look back at my life, I realize the more exhausted I am, the funnier jokes I can tell; the more fed up with myself I am, the warmer the stories I can write; the less spare time I have, the more good music and books I can encounter. When people are trying to save themselves from a predicament, they may very well exhibit tremendous power, albeit in a slightly incorrect direction.
—  Fafoo