Satisfied in having vanquished the wife with nose hair, he continues to groom his nostrils and jumps back to his drafting. His brush, however, seems not so willing. "I can do away with 'gorges on roasted potatoes' too. Gone." So saying, he wipes it out. "And 'a single stick of incense' is too cursory. That goes too." Without hesitation he takes it out with the brush. "Natural Man ponders the infinite, reads the Analects" is all that remains. This now strikes the master as too simple. "Enough of that then. No more prose. We'll just do an inscription." With that, he wields his brush in a cruciform motion, setting down on the paper an orchid, in the literary artist's style, and a poor one at that. His efforts thus far are a smear of black ink. He flips his page and strings together the following obfuscation. "From infinity born, in infinity versed, to infinity lost. Alas, oh infinity, Natural Man." Just as he writes this, Meitei makes his usual entrance. Meitei, blurring the lines between another's house and his own, comes in unannounced and without asking. Furthermore, he's notorious for floating in through the side door. Concern, discretion, hesitation, and worry are notions he shed on the day of his birth.
"Giant Gravitation again?" he asks, still standing there. "I can't keep pouring time into Giant Gravitation. I'm composing an epitaph for Natural Man," the master answers with a due bravado. "Natural Man? A posthumous title, then? In the same vein as Coincidental Child?" Meitei's nonsense is in fine form. "Someone took the title Coincidental Child?" "Not likely. But it seemed along the same line." "Coincidental Child is no one I'd know, but Natural Man is someone known to you." "Who on earth would bear a name like that?" "It's Sorosaki. After graduation, he went on to graduate school and took up the theory of space and time as his topic. Overwork led to peritonitis and death. We were close friends."