Takaba froze where he stood. The bowl of pickled mustard greens beef noodles slowly slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a plop.
"The god of keeping a straight face?" he repeated under his breath, his eyes gradually going blank. "You mean... you can keep a straight face through anything?"
"Anything." Kenjaku stood with his hands in his pockets and his chin slightly raised, his gaze carrying the weathered certainty of someone who had walked out of the depths of history.
"The age of cracking up is over. From now on, only I get to decide what counts as keeping a straight face, and what doesn't."
Takaba's lips began to tremble. Not from fear, but from something rising uncontrollably from his stomach.
"Then... what about me?" His voice grew quiet. "What does that make me?"
Kenjaku looked at him, fell silent for a moment, then slowly spoke.
"A pioneer of the new age. You made me understand that truly keeping a straight face isn't about suppression or endurance. It's about-laughing out loud."
"Laughing out loud?" Takaba's eyes reddened.
"Yes." The corners of Kenjaku's mouth lifted slightly. "Laugh out loud, then keep moving forward."
Takaba's mouth opened and closed, then closed and opened again. Something swam in his eyes, his nostrils fluttered, and his entire face twisted into a complicated, contorted expression that looked on the verge of both laughter and tears.
"Pfft-"
A short, breathy sound escaped his throat. Then came a second, and a third, like a pipe that had been clogged for far too long finally finding an outlet.
"Hahahahaha-!"
Takaba burst out laughing. He laughed until he doubled over, until tears streamed from his eyes, until he squatted on the floor and pounded it with his fists, like a tractor that had been switched on