Work Text:
<From a Twitter thread on underrated Japanese artists>
cradle ruined me (@milkyywayyyy)
shimbashi mei was p cool. he often used anthropomorphic characters in his stories, as well as anthro/human romance. Its widely speculated he was gay since despite never being married, some accounts mention him having a spouse. he also kept numerous cats in his home that he had some of his coworkers babysit and apparently treated them more like roommates than cats. (7/18)
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cradle ruined me (@milkyywayyyy)
for anyone curious some names we know for shimbashi mei’s cats–Tanaka, Kobato, Takanawa, Oosaki, Touya and Shin.
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cradle ruined me (@milkyywayyyy)
interestingly enough there was some speculation that one of the cats might have been named after shimbashi’s lover?? which if true is fucking adorable. relationship goals
Soy (@soybeansfern)
goes back in time. shoves shimbashis gay lover out of the way. ill treat you better than him king
nelly 💘 (@nakamurazbb)
shimbashi mei my fav vintage cat lady (male)
socks (CRADLE) (@marsexpresso)
>>erm AKShually nerd.png There were some diary entries shimbashi wrote where he blamed his lover for having the same name as his cat, so i assume he had already named his cats, and just. happened to get in a relationship with someone with the same name as one of his cats. I’d be pissed too 😭😭
milking mondo (@mondogarlicbread)
>wrote anthro/human romance
>cat lady
>dated someone with same name as one of his cats
brb getting a ouija board so i can teach this man about furries and see how he reacts
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nelly 💘 (@nakamurazbb)
i think if you called shimbashi mei a furry he would break out of his grave and t-pose across the ocean just to spit in your face
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milking mondo (@mondogarlicbread)
update i tried to do a joke seance and then when i was in the shower my cat jumped on the railing and shower curtain fell and scared the shit out of me. i think shimbashi mei personally cursed me
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nelly 💘 (@nakamurazbb)
I dont think he even cursed you he just saw what you were trying to do and did that to call you a lil bitch
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Soy (@soybeansfern)
““my cat”” That’s not your cat anymore oomf thats shimbashi mei’s cat now
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milking mondo (@mondogarlicbread)
im not even good enough to be cursed by a ghost im gonna kms
✨✨ (@fragile_dreamss_)
Can we guess his husband’s name based on the letter dates?
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cradle ruined me (@milkyywayyyy)
Based on the dates and his cat’s documented lifespans, it was either Takanawa or Oosaki! There’s not much about the guy himself unfortunately. Shimbashi-sensei was a very private man and considering being gay was still pretty risky back then you can’t really blame him.
mari (studying!!) (@hatonoji)
iirc there’s some unaddressed love letters that he and his lover exchanged but didnt sign them or anything? so they might have just exchanged letters back and forth when meeting eachother so thats kinda cute
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mari (studying!!) (@hatonoji)
actually more about shimbashi the guy–he was apparently trapped on an island once during which multiple people ended up missing (its widely speculated now that they killed eachother in a fit of stress). How that affected Shimbashi’s work is another topic altogether, but it seems if anything that drove him to keep making happy stories to contrast the horrors he saw on that island.
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nelly 💘 (@nakamurazbb)
i keep thinking abt that actually. one of the victims on the island was apparently a straight up child and i cant begin to think about the willpower youd need to keep making stories with a happy ending after going through an event like that
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nelly 💘 (@nakamurazbb)
an interesting thing abt shimbashi’s stories is that they rarely have anything abt blood family. like he uses the found family trope a LOT but usually nothing about blood ties, which made ppl believe he might have had a bad relationship with his family or mightve been straight up abused growing up, so maybe the island thing maybe just made his resolve stronger. i think abt it a lot
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egg (@eggmutt0ns)
im sorry but the contrast between “hes gay and a furry” and “btw he witnessed multiple murders including that of a child” is taking me tf out. man lived a crazy life
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deactivating soon (@speactrums_)
how do u write down each of ur cats names for historians to know but not your husbands 😭😭 if i was [insert husband name here BC HE DIDNT WRITE IT DOWN] id be choking that mf in the afterlife
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egg (@eggmutt0ns)
empires rise and fall but gay people stay the same
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jessie (@nakamurawifereall)
owning a cat wont get you the electric chair, jacob
<From a Youtube video by ‘ItsMayHere’ titled ‘old japanese artists that tickle my funny bone’>
“Shimbashi Mei was a scriptwriter for a theatre called–say it with me–Pluto. That name’s been coming up in this video a lot, but that’s because there was some real underrated talent in there.
He often wrote happy endings. Hilariously enough, the guy himself was said to be kind of an asshole. He helped guests find their way around the venue and then disappear right after, and kept a generally low profile, never accepting gifts in person.
As previously mentioned, Pluto stuck mostly to underground performances, caring more about performing for art’s sake than for monetary gain, which led to people from all across the social ladder to see their performances. Stories about interracial love, such as ‘The Crumbs of Yesterday’, and chasing your dreams while becoming a better person, like ‘The Pauper Mice’ were performances all enjoyed by numerous social circles and praised for their performance and generally having the heart that was beginning to lack in the ever-developing entertainment industry of Japan. In a post-war world where happiness has become expected and monetary gain had become a hobby rather than a necessity, Shimbashi Mei’s stubbornness was said to have been a bold contrast to the growing corporate greed around him.
He never married, and it was widely speculated he might have been gay himself as numerous other members of Pluto were. The only times he was seen after performances was when receiving gifts from a man rumored to have been his husband.
Hi, editing May here. So I did some more digging, and apparently they were both from the same Island known for its, um. *clicks tongue* Incestuous happenings, let’s say? So they actually might have been cousins or something? But I guess when you’re gay in the 50’s there’s really not much choice, so. And they’re both dead, so like. Y’know. Just wanted to bring that up.
Why don’t we know his husband’s name? Well, other than the whole ‘being gay could get you jailed or killed’ thing, they were both apparently pretty private people, and Shimbashi hardly ever referred to him by name among friends, instead referring to him as ‘kisama’ or ‘detective’ (supposedly it was his profession). As for his name, we know that someone else’s ashes were buried alongside Shimbashi’s, but his name was not recorded on the grave. Supposedly, he wanted to be buried under the same grave as Shimbashi, as they could not get married traditionally, so he wanted to at least be married to him in death.
Man. Being gay in the 1900’s sucked. I mean it still sucks now, but damn.
r/literature
u/mynekochangu
Letter from Shimbashi Mei to his lover.
I wanted to post a rough translation here because I wanted more people to know about it.
Shimbashi is well known for his happy endings and stories, so it’s always a bit wild to remember how gloomy of a person he was behind the scenes. And even then, his suffering seems to have been his own form of happiness. Ever since I first happened upon this letter it stuck with me and made me think about my own problems in life, how it goes on despite everything, how happiness is sure to come just as suffering is.
I doubt Shimbashi Mei would care if I gave him my thanks for making me think about life, but I still can’t help but be grateful. The power of art, I guess.
<The image shows a scanned image of a worn, yellowed letter in Japanese.>
“You made a mistake from the moment you said my stories brought people happiness.
You never thought of yourself among those people. You thought yourself abnormal, an anomaly amongst the crowd. A stain unbelonging in the damp walls of the cramped theatre. Yet among each smiling face in the crowd, my gaze would frantically scan the room until I landed on you. Dozens of smiling faces, watering eyes brought to tears, yet it was your stone face not unlike the Buddha that I would watch with keen eyes, taking in the slightest crease in your brow.
What point is there in happiness if I cannot bring it to you? If I cannot give you even the minimal happiness expected of someone your age? To get married, have a family, have a loving spouse that encourages you and sends you off with a smile as you leave for work? Instead you chain yourself to a cold mansion where you cannot turn your back without fearing a knife to your throat at any point in the day. Even now, I feel the urge to walk out into the rain and find you and stab your conniving, traitorous heart until it no longer beats for anyone.
Takanawa-san is sleeping on the clothes I lent you the other day. Your scent has become ingrained into the cold halls of my home. Or perhaps, like me, he wishes to leave our mark on you, to lay our claim so intruders learn to turn tail while possible.
I dreamt about Ooejima again today. Its mocking silhouette stood still in the rocking waves of the sea around it, a stage forced to enact the macabre play decided by its playwright. I was made to sit in the sea and watch and hear everything that happened, far, far away from the island. But I could remember and enact each and every motion and word.
The boat I escaped on came into view, and I woke up to a morning without you once more.
Happiness is temporary, likely to disappear the moment you let it out of your sight. Joy cannot be attained and held in stone. You can either kill it completely and erase it from your mind, or toil day after day for even a moment of undoubtable mirth.
I value myself above anyone else. Have no doubt that your Shimbashi Mei will never change in that aspect. However, it's those moments, those fleeting moments where I find myself happy to be temporary as you are.
Life is tantamount to joy, as you may well have realized. When you one day come to an end, be it by my hand or Death’s cold embrace, I would soon follow.
Even if we bicker, even if we miscommunicate, even if I accuse you again and again until you one day may tire of me, once the curtain falls, your joy and mine shall be one and the same. That is an ending I can promise you with no doubt, Detective.
So, now that I’ve spoiled the ending to you, would you still be willing to write the rest of the story with me? The middle of the journey, the ups and downs that come with growth?
The outline of Ooejima taunts me in my dreams, Detective. Though our beginnings may have started there, it will not be our end. I will not let that island have the power over you as it attempts to have over me.
And when I close my eyes, for a moment, an hour, or eternity, I will ask that you hold me, so we may never drift apart in its waters ever again.
So that I may curse its name with you in my arms."